Chapter 5
The worst part of Peter’s plan was that he was starting to doubt it. Before, it had seemed so simple. If he wanted to get over the dumb crush that he’d had for almost half his life and was unable to do on his own, maybe a cold hard no from the object of his affection would do the trick. So, make a move on the famous Tony Stark, then get rejected. The embarrassment of that in itself would probably kill any feeling Peter had itself, but he was also a huge ‘no means no’ activist, and as a result would feel too awful to keep letting himself have impure thoughts of Tony.
In theory, it was the perfect plan. But after two failed attempts, Peter was doubting himself. What if it didn’t work? What if Tony kicked him out? What if, what if, what if? A million scenarios rolled through his head. But Peter was out of options and sick and tired of not being able to live his life in a normal way. He couldn’t date because no one was ever as perfect as he thought Tony would be. He was only screwing around with people that reminded of Tony now. And on top of it all, he’d been drinking more than his body could handle.
Then there was the fact that he had been getting drunk for courage to openly flirt with Tony. He’d finally decided that was the reason Tony had been running away from him. He probably thought Peter was a ‘I’ll flirt with anything that has a pulse’ kind of drunk. If Peter approached Tony completely sober, it would leave him no option but to face the situation for what it was. The worst case of a love sick puppy in the world.
But Peter put it off for nearly a week after that. Without being totally hammered first, he lost every ounce of courage he had. Actively going out to get the biggest heartbreak of all time wasn’t as easy as he had made it seem in his own head. Finally, he got tired of worrying about it.
“Whatever happens, happens. Stop being such a baby.” He whispered to himself in the mirror.
A shower first. That would serve two purposes. 1- make him feel as relaxed as possible. 2- make sure he’s as clean as possible now, because he had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to crawl out of bed for something as mundane as showering for the next week or two after Tony completely and utterly destroyed his heart. Then he picked out something nice to wear, looked in the mirror, changed his clothes, and repeated the process. Eventually Peter settled on a t-shirt and sweatpants. Neither were part of his ‘sexy’ collection, which would have been better for trying to seduce Tony. But he thought he should be as comfortable as possible for it because after he was just going to run to bed and cry until he was dehydrated. Maybe the fact that he looked like a scrub would only give Tony an extra reason to tell him off. People who looked like Tony didn’t settle for people that looked like Peter.
Then, because he was trying to grasp whatever courage he had left buried deep inside him, Peter sat on the edge of his bed for almost another hour. It was late enough in the afternoon that Tony would be awake, but probably still early enough that he wouldn’t be elbows deep in some complicated project. Now or never. As he walked down the hall, Peter let his mind go blank. If he thought about anything at all, he would let himself overthink everything. He refused to sabotage himself so soon.
As usual, Tony was in the lab. He was probably in there more that his own bedroom. In fact, there had been plenty of times where Peter had peaked inside and seen Tony face down on a table asleep in an uncomfortable position. The next day he’d always complain about his back, only to have Steve yell at him for not sleeping in a proper bed.
But now Tony was awake, working on what looked like the arm panel of his suit. Peter just stood in the doorway and watched for a while, knowing it would probably be ages before Tony was comfortable enough to be around him again. When the older man finally looked up, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“God dammit, Peter!” Tony shoved the screwdriver down onto the table. “Don’t make me tie a bell to you. I’m too old for you to be scaring me like that.”
It got a deep chuckle out of him. Tony hadn't joked around like that with him in a very long time. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. You looked busy, I didn’t want to bother you.”
Tony just grumbled and went back to work. Peter took that as his opportunity to stroll into the room and take a seat at the table Tony was standing at. Tony said nothing, and Peter was glad. For a while, they just sat there like everything was normal. Tony worked, Peter watched and occasionally handed the older man a tool that he knew he’d be needing next. It was so peaceful that Peter almost forgot why he was there.
“I like watching you work.” Peter told him, genuinely. It was hard to flirt with someone, but what were flirts but compliments? There was plenty about Tony to compliment.
“Huh? Thanks. It’s nice to have someone passing me tools. I’ve tried it with DUM-E before, but that just made a mess.” Tony laughed to himself, not looking over at Peter.
“You furrow your eyebrows when you concentrate. I think it’s nice.” Peter said, letting his face go red. Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t look at Peter, and definitely didn’t stop working. Peter internally sighed at how hard Tony was making this for him. “Some people think that’s what gives everyone wrinkles. But I just think it makes your face look softer the rest of the time.”
That, at least, got Tony’s attention. He stopped fiddling with the panel in front of him, still ignoring Peter. It was so quiet that Peter’s ears throbbed with the sound of his own heart beat. Finally Tony spoke, nearly giving Peter a heart attack at the sudden noise.
“Well you know me, the epitome of beauty. That’s why I’ve never needed Botox. An eternally youthful face.”
“You are.” Peter agreed, watching the way Tony tensed up.
“I am what?”
“The epitome of beauty, Mr. Stark.” Peter knew Tony was saying it to deflect the compliment. He used cockiness as a shield. Now it was blowing up nicely in his face, while also opening the perfect segway for Peter.
“Kid…” Tony let his hands grip the side of the table until Peter saw his knuckles go white. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” Peter steadied himself for the godawful admission he was about to get off his chest, knowing that once he started he was going to ramble. He usually did when he was nervous. “God, I’ve thought that since I was like twelve. And… And I’ve had the cheesiest crush on you since then. I think you’re the most beautiful person in the World, Mr. Stark. Inside and out. And I know this is going to ruin things, and that you won’t want to talk to me for a while after this, but I just had to tell you. It’s been eating me up. That’s… why i’ve been drinking so much. I thought that I could get you out of mind that way. But I can’t, Mr. Stark, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know you won’t ever return those feelings for me, but I can’t lose you as a friend.”
Peter’s eyes prickled hot and wet. A mix of embarrassment and the sudden realization of how much Tony meant to him. Maybe somewhere along the way his crush had evolved into something more, but he couldn’t let himself think that way now. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, partially to try and stop the tears from flowing out, and partially so he wouldn’t have to see the disgust on Tony’s face. Instead, he felt all the air leaving his lungs as lips slam down on his own.