inactive @prettyboy-parker - Tumblr Blog

Jun 29, 2021

starkentrprises-deactivated2026

🦋 black butterflies and déjà vu.

a lovely collab between @starkentrprises & @snowstark. huge thank you to @vaguekiwi & @prettyboy-parker for beta-ing this fic. <3

29k | starker | enemies to lovers - omegaverse - domestic fluff - eventual smut.

FIND IT ON AO3.

When Peter opened the door, the last thing he was expecting was to see Tony Stark standing there.

Tony Stark—as in, probably the richest alpha on the planet—was standing in Peter’s classroom doorway. And then Peter noticed the stress painting his features, the way his eyes darted towards Morgan’s sleeping figure in his arms, and the last piece of the puzzle fit into place.

Tony Stark was the shitstain of a parent Morgan had unfortunately been sacked with. Dear God.

AKA a teacher, a DILF, and twenty two screaming children.

Peter loved his job— he really did.

It wasn’t common for an omega like him, young and unmated and childless, to find a job. With the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission being established a decade or so ago, things were definitely looking up, but it didn’t mean people didn’t cling to archaic mindsets.

At least teaching had always been considered a job omegas were just made for, because it was all Peter wanted to do. He had seen too many other omegas drop out of college, even high school, because finding a half-decent alpha was easier than the harassment they’d face for wanting to be more than a receptionist to some big shot alpha whose ego was bigger than anything they had below the belt.

But Peter got lucky. He loved teaching, loved seeing the way his pups’ eyes lit up when he explained how the Earth made it rain, or why the sky was blue, or how two-sixths was also one-third.

It didn’t mean being a teacher, especially in the heart of New York, was any easier. People in the upper echelons of society, regardless of designation, had always felt a certain way about omegas like Peter—none of those feelings being particularly good.

There were rumors about unmated omegas who became teachers and would run off with others’ pups, or tried to steal alphas from their mates; although Peter would rather keel over and die than mate with some of the trash his pups called parents.

So while it hadn’t been easy, Peter got a job fresh out of college at Trinity School in the Upper West Side. It was the top private school in the entire state, although the hefty $50k tuition explained that. Despite Trinity being a private school, Peter was allowed to adopt whatever educational model he wanted; he could admit his teaching methods were very different from what his colleagues had going on.

Peter’s first graders were out of the classroom at least once a week, and unlike other teachers (like Mister Beck down in 105B), he refused to separate his educational model depending on his pups’ designation.

Children, especially the betas and omegas, didn’t need a reminder of how different society would treat them when they were all grown up. And the baby alphas would have their egos inflated enough one day, so Peter had no intention of pushing any child into archaic secondary gender roles so soon.

He loved all his students, but sometimes he couldn’t help but pick favorites.

It was only his second year teaching, but little Morgan Stark had wormed her way into Peter’s heart early on. For an alpha child, she started off the year incredibly withdrawn and shy compared to her classmates.

She took to Peter like a duck to water, though, and he to her. Peter would never force any of his students to do anything they didn’t want. Mainly because if a kid didn’t want to do something, it was usually for a reason. Morgan didn’t like to go outside for lunch and recess during the warmer months, so Peter got her her own special little chair, and she sat next to him every lunch so they could eat together.

Morgan’s favorite activity was their Friday library trips. Peter would get all his students to buddy up, hold onto the hold-a-ring walking rope, and they’d make their way to The New York Public Library. Morgan seemed a bit ahead of the other kids, so Peter had started bringing in some chapter books from home to read with her during lunchtime.

She was a sweet girl and an even better student, but Peter couldn’t help but worry about what was going on at home. Trinity focused a lot on parent involvement with their children’s education, but Peter had never seen anyone come in for Morgan, for anything.

A nondescript black car showed up every day to drop her off on time, and pick her up after school— always around 10 minutes after the usual pick-up time.

No one came in for parent-teacher conferences, to see a play or mini-science fair, or attend a PTA meeting— radio silence. Peter had sent a few notes home to no avail, and Steve Rogers, the art teacher upstairs, eventually convinced him to knock it off. Morgan had been at Trinity since pre-k and it had apparently always been that way, and nobody said a word.

Peter was getting fed up, but he knew making a scene would make it look weird. Morgan wasn’t his pup, he wasn’t her Oma, he truly had no claim over her that would warrant such a reaction.

Still, his frustrations spilled over one Friday afternoon. Every single student had been picked up by 3:05, but the usual black car that came for Morgan was nowhere to be seen. Peter was hoping to leave by 4 in order to miss the 5 o’clock rush on the B train, but he couldn’t just leave Morgan at the main office.

“C’mon, honey, you can wait with me, alright?” Peter said, smiling softly as Morgan cheered.

“Can we finish Tales of De– Des–” Morgan huffed, clearly unable to pronounce Despereaux. It was a cute attempt though, especially for a first grader.

Peter chuckled, taking a seat behind his desk, waving the book at her. It had been marked right where they left it during their lunchtime. “Yes, we can keep reading. Do you have any snacks left from lunch, Miss Morgan?”

The little girl shook her head, before gasping softly. “Can I pick from the closet? Please?”

Peter laughed at her excitement as he nodded. “It’s not locked, go ahead.” Morgan rushed over to the storage closet Peter referred to as the class fridge— it was full of anything his students would need, from snacks to extra craft supplies to extra sets of clothes, because first graders were messy and a few still had accidents.

Morgan came back over with a pack of blueberry mini-muffins. Instead of sitting in her little chair, she hopped up into Peter’s lap. Peter wrapped his arms around her as she settled against his chest.

“M’ready!” Morgan announced.

Peter smiled, opening up to where he’d stuck the bookmark earlier, picking up where they had left off, “Reader, do you think it is a terrible thing to hope when there is really no reason to hope at all?”

They got through a few chapters in an hour, Morgan squirming and switching positions in his lap every now and then. Around 4:15, Steve knocked on his door.

Poking his head in, he asked, “Peter? I saw your light on; why are you still—”

“Mister Rogers! Hiii!” Morgan waved a sticky hand, sitting up straight in Peter’s lap.

“Hi Miss Morgan,” Steve said with a kind smile. He looked past her, right at Peter, who grinned sheepishly. Steve gave him a pointed look, one that clearly said you’re getting too involved.

“I’ll see you Monday, then. Have a good weekend, Peter.” Steve curtly waved, before giving a more hearty goodbye to Morgan.

Peter turned his attention back to their book. They stayed like that for another hour, until Morgan fell asleep against his shoulder while playing with his giant pom-pom earrings. His legs started to ache from sitting and bearing so much weight, so he picked her up, fully intending to set her down in the nap-time cots in the attached room.

But the way Morgan was gripping onto Peter’s sweater, sticky little fists hooked into the thick knitting, he just couldn’t let her go. Okay, Parker, calm down. This is not your pup, he reminded himself, although it wasn’t helping.

He tried calling the two numbers Trinity had on file under Morgan’s emergency contacts, but even that proved useless. The call to the primary number didn’t go through, and the secondary went straight to voicemail. Peter’s only option, aside from dumping Morgan in the main office with security, was to wait it out. He was well within his right to make a call to DCFS but that was risky territory— a non-familial omega getting involved in business that wasn’t theirs, especially considering Peter’s bond with Morgan, wouldn’t look right.

With a soft huff, glancing back down at the little alpha in his arms, Peter settled on waiting it out. Someone had to show up eventually.

Peter took a few laps around the classroom with Morgan in his arms, bouncing her gently as he tried to tidy up as best he could with one available arm. But after a few minutes, he gave up, settling for pushing in any chairs with his feet and promising himself he’d show up early on Monday to clean up.

It was nearing 7pm, and now the entire situation was getting ridiculous. Who was this bad of a parent? Who just— just forgot about such a wonderful little girl?

Peter was halfway through dozing off at his desk, arms still wrapped around a snoring Morgan, when someone urgently banged on his door.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, shoved out of what had been looking like a blissful nap. “Hold on!” Peter called, trying not to genuinely shout and wake Morgan up. He prayed it wasn’t the janitors again, because then this would turn into a real problem.

But when Peter opened the door, the last thing he was expecting was to see Tony Stark standing there.

Tony Stark was the shitstain of a parent Morgan had unfortunately been sacked with. Dear God.

Peter’s surprise morphed into anger as he turned his body to shield Morgan. Already, he was internally scolding himself; What the fuck are you doing you absolute idiot? That is Tony Stark, an alpha who could probably own you or have you arrested for this— what are you doing?.

Call it omega instinct, but the last thing Peter wanted to do was hand Morgan over. Familial alpha or not, it didn’t explain any of Tony’s behavior the entire school year.

“Can I help you?” Peter asked rather coldly. He stroked Morgan’s back, gently rocking the little girl in his arms.

Morgan shifted, beginning to drool on his shoulder.

Tony's eyes flicked to her again, tracking every little movement, protectively, even though there was nothing protective about the fact that he was late; it was too late in the evening to even be dealing with such a mess of a situation.

And being the richest alpha in the entire world clearly didn't mean that he was the smartest; Tony blinked at the child in Peter's arms, taking in the way he was patting her back fondly and warmly.

Tony's mouth opened like he wanted to say something about it, only to close again. The man adjusted his tinted sunglasses and shoved his hands into his pockets, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet in the frigid silence.

When Peter twitched like he was less than a second away from slamming the door in his face, Tony finally said, dumbly, "That's my daughter. I'm here to pick her up."

And, without being invited, he stepped into the classroom. Like he was about to make himself at home, like Peter hadn't stayed hours—literal hours—after the usual pick-up time to babysit his daughter.

"She fell asleep, huh?" His eyes softened the slightest bit. "Poor thing's been tired lately. My driver got into a car accident; he couldn't come, and I only just got out of work. Business, it's, well, you know. I'll take her off your hands now, though."

Not even a fucking 'sorry, thank you.'

Peter stared blankly as the alpha just— pushed past him, and stepped into his classroom like he owned the place. Peter couldn’t help the itch under his skin, and he knew— he knew this wouldn’t end well, but he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth.

“Take her off my hands? You do understand it is—” Peter glanced at his clock, shaped like a giant strawberry over the doorway “—7:24pm, Mister Stark?”

“Your pup has been in my care since 8 AM, with a sorry excuse for a lunch and some Little Bites, and that is all you have to say for yourself?” He tried so hard not to yell; the last thing he wanted to do was wake up and upset Morgan. Peter huffed, glaring at Tony as he continued to rock the little girl in his arms, stepping closer to the alpha.

“Just because I’m an omega does not make me your pup’s glorified babysitter! You don’t just get to check out of being a parent because you’re an alpha with a job!” he spat. Peter knew alphas could be dense, and many still believed the role of raising children was intended for omegas only, but that mentality did not fly in Peter’s classroom.

“I’m a teacher, so no, I don’t know how business is. And honestly, I don’t care! It’s almost April, and you haven’t signed on to chaperone a single trip, you don’t come to parent-teacher conferences, you haven’t seen a single class play!” Peter huffed, tightening his grip on Morgan ever so gently. “So forgive me for not caring about your business, when you can’t even pick up your own daughter on time!”

Peter realized he really had shouted, huffing softly from his outburst, when Morgan stirred in his arms, yawning softly. She blinked her eyes open, letting go of Peter’s knit sweater vest to rub her eyes as she smacked her lips.

Tony looked stunned, taken aback by the words, like he genuinely hadn't even considered what Peter had just shouted at him. Both of their eyes flew to Morgan when she yawned, blinking drowsily at first, and then sleepily.

Then, she twisted and exclaimed, sounding surprised, "Daddy!" She squirmed, and Tony immediately reached out to take her from Peter, who finally let her go.

He held her warmly, a hand on her back, because at least he could do that, if not pick her up on time, and he kissed her cheek. "Did you have a good day with—" He broke off, blinking.

Yeah, he didn't even know Peter's name.

"Mister Parker!" Morgan chirped helpfully, making Tony kiss her cheek again while Peter scowled. "Mister Parker 'n I ate snacks and read a book 'n then I was waitin' for you 'till I fell asleep!"

"Oh, yes, you did fall asleep," Tony agreed. "I'm glad you had a good day, honey." He shifted, reaching to grab for the doorknob, and then paused. "You brought a backpack to school, didn't you? That's what you do, right?" He set her down, steadying her. "You go get it, honey. I'll wait here."

She obediently ran off, leaving Tony and Peter alone.

Tony exhaled a big huff of air, then met Peter's gaze. "Thank you," he said. "And I'll—I'll figure out when, uh, the conference is, and join. And if there's anything you need, for your classroom, or just, the whole school, you can tell me, and I'll get it for you—" He broke off, hesitating. "Whatever you want," he finished lamely.

Peter stayed silent, regarding Tony rather coldly as Tony met his gaze.

Don’t say that, don’t say things you clearly don’t mean and stop setting your kid up for disappointment, he wanted to say— but Peter had already run his mouth enough.

Honestly, Tony’s response was surprising. He was sure an alpha like this would’ve tried to have him fired for the way Peter had spoken to him, not that it wasn’t completely undeserved.

But Peter didn’t want anything from Tony, or any alpha for that matter. He just wanted him to show up for Morgan, to stop leaving her to be the only kid in the class whose parents weren’t present and openly supportive of her education.

Morgan skipped back before Peter could retort, and she complained, loudly, "'m hungry!"

"Yes, yes, we'll go eat dinner," Tony soothed, pointedly not looking Peter in the face. "C'mon, let's go, sweetie. Wave goodbye."

She did as she was told, and then Tony awkwardly waved at Peter too before getting the fuck out of there.

Peter waved to Morgan with a soft smile, completely disregarding Tony. And now after that run-in, he hoped to god he never ran into Tony Stark again.

______

Unfortunately, luck had decided it was not on Peter’s side.

The next Tuesday, the little microwave he had in the corner of his room finally gave out. A few of his students came with hot lunch, and sometimes Peter liked to heat his up too, so he’d gotten it from a neighbor who was about to toss it out.

Peter fixed it up as best he could, but some things just couldn’t keep up with use and age. And god knew Trinity didn’t pay him enough for him to drop 200 bucks on a brand new microwave.

“I’m sorry, everyone!” He said, sighing as a few kids bemoaned having to eat cold mac and cheese. The only other teacher who had a microwave on the lower level of the school was Mister Beck, and Peter would rather gag than ever admit to that man that he needed help with anything.

On their way out of school and into the yard for pick up, Peter made sure to shout, “Cold lunches, only, please!” to the kids as they ran to their parents.

Morgan stayed behind late, as always, but this time, she didn’t stay until 7. She was picked up only five minutes late, and by none other than Tony Stark, again.

Tony tried to make small talk with Peter, but he stiffly shut down all efforts, and eventually, when Morgan came skipping out with her bag, all Tony said was, “Thank you,” before leaving.

As they left the classroom, Morgan chirped to Tony excitedly, “Jeremy couldn’t eat his lunch like usual ‘cause Mister Parker’s mic’owave broke! But I had a sandwich so it was good, and...” She trailed off to wave goodbye to Peter one more time, then skipped after Tony.

On the way home, Tony listened to Morgan continue to chatter, indulging her with little hums and “Oh, really?”s as he drove.

“Do you think Mister Parker will get a new micro’ave, Daddy?”

Tony hummed. “Well, I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe.” He took a turn, and continued driving. “You think he needs it really badly, honey?”

She nodded seriously. “Mister Parker puts his food in it too,” she told him. “He needs it, Daddy. But he told me it’s gonna be hard to get one.”

“Right, right.”

They finally pulled up at home, and Tony let her run inside before pulling out his phone. He had an online purchase to make.

______

Peter was helping Steve rearrange his seating chart so two 8th grade betas (who very clearly liked one another) could sit together. So what? Sue them for trying to spark a little middle school romance. He was mulling over the options and sipping watery coffee when Bucky from front desk security came into the teacher’s lounge.

He was cradling a package in his arms, and set it down at their table. “Amazon guy dropped it off, said it was for you,” Bucky said stiffly.

“I— are you sure? I didn’t order anything, I can’t even afford Prime,” Peter laughed lightly. Bucky’s expression was unmoved, as usual; he was all beta, but if Peter was any less perceptive he would’ve constantly mistaken him for an alpha based on how stoic he was.

Bucky regarded Steve with a bit more mirth, nodding at the two omegas before he left the room.

Peter nudged Steve with a small smirk. “I can see you drooling from here, wipe your mouth before the kids see you.”

Steve gasped, “I was not drooling. I was just... admiring the view. Plus, I have an alpha and you know it!”

“Yeah, and I still have no clue how you managed to snag Sam, of all alphas,” Peter teased.

For all his distaste towards alphas, Sam Wilson almost broke that streak during October of last year—he was a volunteer firefighter who got called to Trinity after a science project gone wrong.

Steve and Peter spent the fire drill less concerned about their kids, and more concerned with drooling over the literal hunk of meat lugging 50 pounds of gear like it was nothing. But it was Steve who caught Sam’s eye, and they hit it off so well that they bonded only 6 months later.

“I can’t just— ask my alpha for a third, Peter.”

There were no laws blocking alpha and omega pairs from taking on a third; it was just highly uncommon

Peter shrugged. “It’s stupid. If you want a third, just ask him. Sam’s sweet, I wouldn’t have let you mate with him if he wasn’t good to you. Just ask,” he said. It made Steve flush pink and roll his eyes.

“Open your damn package,” he said, fetching Peter some scissors from the kitchenette.

Peter dropped the topic, and sliced at the packing tape. He pulled away the flaps and some layers of bubble wrap to expose—

“A microwave?” Steve was just as confused as Peter was. He helped Peter get it out of the box, revealing the state of the art KitchenAid appliance.

Peter dug through the protective packaging in the box, searching for a receipt. He had seen KitchenAid stuff in Target before, there was no way in hell he could afford it. At the bottom of the box was a gift tag from the store, revealing a grand total of $1,200, disregarding tax.

Peter’s heart nearly dropped to his ass, until he kept reading, and—

I hope you and Jeremy can enjoy your lunch now. — T.S.

“That motherfucker,” he hissed, crumpling up the gift tag. “He bought me a microwave! Can you believe the nerve of that—”

He was interrupted by Steve laughing his ass off. “This is not funny!” Peter hissed.

“Steve, you have an alpha! Tell me— is this some stupid pride thing? ‘cause Tony Stark can take his stupid, ugly microwave and shove it up—“

Peter’s rant and Steve’s subsequent laughter were rudely interrupted by the first bell. He groaned, quickly packing the microwave back into its box.

“Have fun at lunchtime, Peter!” Steve said, grinning almost sadistically. Peter gave him a pointed look, gathering the stupid, heavy box in his arms and lugging it back to his classroom.

He hid it in his supply closet so the kids wouldn’t see it, and he wouldn’t have to remember it existed until the end of the day.

Peter got through the day without another hiccup, although he felt slightly guilty when a few of his students still showed up with what was meant to be hot lunch.

So against his better judgement, only a few minutes into lunchtime, Peter lugged the stupid microwave out of his supply closet.

“Everyone! C’mon now,” Peter announced over the hoard of babbling children. “1-2-3, eyes on me!”

“4-5-6, everyone shush!” His students called back, although not uniformly.

Peter grinned, “Thank you! Now, we all know our microwave broke yesterday, and we were very sad to see it go.” A few kids cupped their hands around their mouths and yelled, “BOOOO!”

He chuckled and nodded along. “Well, Miss Morgan was very nice, and she told her daddy about what happened to our microwave— so they bought us a brand new one!

“Morgan, come up here, honey.” He said, holding his hands out to her. Morgan sat up straight in her seat, as 21 other little pairs of eyes looked at her. She very slowly got up and walked to the front, taking Peter’s hand and tucking part of her body behind him.

“Everyone, what do we say when someone does something nice for us, even if they didn’t have to?”

“Thank you, Morgan!” the class called out, and before it got quiet, someone in the back called out, “Mister Parker, can we have popcorn?!”

Ever since the first time Peter showed his kids how popcorn works in the microwave, they had been obsessed with it. He had to reduce the popcorn-eating to once every two weeks, because the wattage on their old microwave wasn’t strong enough to handle the usage.

“Yes, Abbie, we can make popcorn,” Peter said with a little sigh, smiling nonetheless. The class erupted into noise once again, and he let Morgan help him push the box to the back of the room.

Later that afternoon, while the kids were all taking their naps, Peter paid Steve a visit upstairs— as in, he chucked a bag of microwavable popcorn at his head from the doorway of his classroom.

“Enjoying your microwave, Mister Parker?” Steve said, ripping the bag open with a smirk.

Peter gave him a deadpan stare. “Bite me, Steve.”

“No thanks, I’m saving myself for Bucky.”

Peter gasped scandalously, nabbing a roll of tape from one of Steve’s drawers. “So you admit you have the hots for him?”

Steve threw a handful of popcorn at him. “Get out, Peter,” he said in jest, to which Peter blew him a kiss before making his leave.

The microwave became an afterthought until it was time for everyone to go home. Magically, Tony Stark was the first person standing outside.

“Bye, everyone! Please remember to sign those permission slips for next week!” Peter called out, before making his way over to Tony.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his teal pinafore dress, which was covered in a pink, orange and blue squiggle print. It always paired well over his orange short-sleeved button up, black Mary Janes, and his dehydrated orange slice earrings (which Morgan was obsessed with).

“If I didn’t need the microwave, I would’ve forced you to take it back, y’know,” Peter huffed. “Just— don’t do that again.”

At Peter’s words, Tony blinked. “That’s the only thank you I get?” he asked, though his tone made it clear that he wasn’t serious, just teasing, like Peter hadn’t yelled at him just a few days ago for being a terrible parent.

He tucked his hands into his pockets, looking just as awkward now as he had the first day he’d come to pick Morgan up, and said slowly, “I can do it again, though. If you need anything, I can. It’s—It’s Morgan’s school, I want the best for her; it’s her education and she should have the best resources. And so should the other students. So, really, it’s just me being a good parent, not—not for you, specifically.” He blinked. “Although, I guess you deserve it, Mister Parker. You work hard.”

Peter wondered if cheap flattery was how alphas like Tony Stark got through everything in life. He didn’t know what he hated more: when he was barely around for his kid, or the ‘I’ll do anything to support my local teacher’ routine he was pulling just to make up for the former.

“Daddy!” Morgan huffed and tugged his pant leg, making him look down at her fondly. “Em said she’s makin’ cookies today, and I told her I would too so that we could trade some tomorrow. Can we? Please? Please?”

“Mhm,” Tony agreed distractedly, placing a hand on her head as he looked back at Peter. “So, I noticed on the school calendar that you have a field trip scheduled to the science museum. What if I did you one better and let you bring the class to SI labs?” He hesitated. “Well, maybe the kids will find it boring. But it’s—you know, it’s an option.”

“It’s really cool there,” Morgan informed Peter seriously, apparently having listened in to their conversation, because of course she had. “Daddy has lots of cool machines ‘n stuff. You told me you like science, Mister Parker.”

Tony smiled. “See?” He clapped his hands. “It’s meant to be.”

Peter loved parents who tried hard to be part of their children’s education, but it was just so obvious Tony was doing it to get in the good graces of the poor omega who had chewed him out.

“I do like science, honey. But we are actually going to the Museum of Natural History,” Peter corrected. He tried to hide his smirk as he squatted down and tapped her under the chin. “Actually, Miss Morgan, why don’t you ask your dad to join us? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Morgan gasped, her eyes lighting up as she tugged on Tony’s pant leg again. “Daddy! You gotta come, pleaseeee! Mister Parker said we’re gonna see the real dinosaurs!”

Peter loved his students, he did. But because he was far more lax with his classroom rules than other teachers, watching twenty two first graders in the busiest city in the world had proved to be a challenge that few parent chaperones enjoyed. He had no intention of making the entire day hell on earth for Tony, but he would definitely get a kick out of it.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Peter’s words, but he raised his hands in a mockingly surrendering gesture. “Why not? Morgan’ll have fun.”

“‘s been forever since Daddy could come on a trip!” Morgan informed Peter happily.

Tony winced.

In an effort to compose himself, he pointed a finger at Peter and asked, “Is there anything you need me to bring? Actually, no, don’t answer that. Here, let’s start with this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and a checkbook.

He clicked the pen, and as he wrote on it, said, “I’ll be more than happy to fund the trip for you. And you know what? Morgan was telling me about a school play in two months; I’ll include that in this too.” He ripped off the page and pressed it into Peter’s hand, lingering hesitantly like he wasn’t sure if Peter was going to take it and just slap it back into his face.

Then Tony turned to Morgan and said, “C’mon, honey, it’s time to go home.” He led her to the car before Peter could say anything else, leaving him standing there gaping.

Peter stared down at the check for— fuck, how out of touch was this man? It was made out to Peter for five grand. Somehow the carelessness with which Tony just chucked money at his problems pissed Peter off more than the actual check itself.

Tony was gone before Peter could pull himself together and give it back. He tucked it away in one of his binders; he couldn’t give it to the school to cash as a charitable donation because it was made out to him, but it was honestly more money than he knew what to do with.

Admission to the Museum of Natural History was literally free, which proved to Peter just how little Tony was genuinely trying.

Peter tried to forget about it. The check was the last thing on his mind when he came into work the next morning— that was, until a catering service showed up to prepare breakfast for the entire staff.

He wanted to resist, but fuck, there was something about New York bagels and coffee from an actual french press instead of the watery Keurig that Peter couldn’t ignore.

Peter finally found Steve, who was inhaling a mug of Earl Grey without a care in the world— like Peter’s world wasn’t literally imploding.

“Good morning, Mister Parker. Enjoying your breakfast?” Steve snorted as Peter huffed and angrily went to town on his everything bagel.

“I’m going to kill you. Or maybe I’ll get my hands on Tony Stark first.”

Steve rolled his eyes, reaching for the yogurt parfait he’d snagged. “I mean... at least he’s trying?”

“You don’t get it— I told him to come on a trip with his own kid, and after saying yes, he just wrote me a check for, like, five grand.” Peter whispered the number, glancing around to make sure nobody was paying attention to them.

Steve grimaced. “So he’s one of those parents... at least he agreed to the trip? It’s better than nothing.”

Peter stole one of Steve’s strawberries out of his parfait, pouting lightly. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. He loved Morgan, but she wasn’t his pup, and Tony Stark definitely wasn’t his alpha.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “Let’s hope he actually shows next Wednesday.”

______

The day before their trip, Peter sent Morgan home with a small list of rules for Tony to go over and, unfortunately, Peter’s phone number. The rules were the usual for parent chaperones: dress casually and comfortably, keep your phone on you at all times, don’t get distracted by your own kid.

Peter was half expecting him not to show, but when he stepped into his classroom early Wednesday morning, he was pleasantly surprised. Tony was already there with Morgan, clearly very enthralled in a game of house over by the play area, and for once he looked kind of... normal.The usual suit and tie he wore to pick up Morgan were swapped out for some roughed up Levi’s and a Black Sabbath tee.

And, for once in his year and a half of teaching, Peter felt like he looked a little ridiculous. He was wearing a red short sleeve jumpsuit with giant white strawberries plastered all over it and forest green long sleeves underneath. He was wearing triceratops earrings Steve had made him for Christmas, and slouchy green socks with a pair of white strappy shoes.

He cleared his throat, interrupting whatever vivid story Morgan was telling as she pretended to cook breakfast in the play kitchenette.

“Good morning,” Peter said, finding himself unable to smile at the pair. Morgan gasped, dropping her toy pan and spatula and running over to him. “Mister Parker! G’morning!”

Peter quickly dropped his bags as Morgan launched herself at him. “Woah, Miss Morgan! Careful,” he chided with a light laugh. The little girl in his arms flushed sheepishly, as she reached up to play with his earrings.

“M’sorry!” Morgan exclaimed, although from the way she was tugging at Peter’s earlobes, it really didn’t seem like it.

Tony snorted. "Morgan, honey, stop that. It's rude to tug on his ears like that, even though, well, I guess it's a bit irresistible." He grinned at Peter, like he'd just said the funniest thing ever, and came over to hoist Morgan onto his hip. "Well? Is this to your liking?" He gestured to his outfit. "Casual and comfortable, just for you, Mister Parker. Miss Morgan picked it out just for me."

"Wanted him to look han'some for you, Mister Parker, 'cause you always look pretty and he likes that," Morgan told Peter with a very serious look on her face, making Tony choke on his next breath.

"Morgan, sweetie, why don't you tell Mister Parker about the brownies you helped me make yesterday, hm?" Tony hastily suggested, pointedly not meeting Peter's eyes, which had flicked over to his face incredulously. "You do that, okay? I need to make a quick phone call before we leave." He set her down on the floor, letting her begin chittering excitedly to Peter, and slipped out of the door.

Peter had no clue, literally not even a hint of an idea, how a little girl as sweet and considerate as Morgan came from that.

Morgan was more than happy to tell Peter about the brownies they had made yesterday for her uncle, and Peter had let his super secret surprise for the class slip— he had baked cookies, considering half his kids rarely had anything that wasn’t keto, gluten-free, or full of whatever the hell Stevia was.

“Promise me you won’t tell and I’ll let you sneak an extra snack from the closet when we come back, m’kay?” Peter bargained, having squatted down to be at Morgan’s level. He held out his pinky to her, “We got a dill, pickle?”

“It’s a dill, pickle!” Morgan beamed, looping her little pinky around his and squeezing.

Tony was still on the phone, much to Peter’s dismay, so he used the extra time to do a quick headcount. Once all twenty two of his students were accounted for, he checked to make sure everyone who was meant to bring a lunch from home had brought one. While Trinity was a private school, and most kids came from incredibly wealthy families, there were a few in his class who couldn’t afford to bring lunch when they went on trips.

Peter called the three of them up privately, pulling their lunch bags out of one of the bigger bags he had brought that morning. Then, as per protocol, Peter made them all get in a line and he stuck a ‘Hello, my name is ___!’ sticker to their chests, before scrawling their names onto it. Once everyone had a sticker, Peter fetched his walking rope out of the top drawer of his desk.

They was ready to leave just as Tony strolled back into the classroom. He gave Peter a smile before coming over and raising an eyebrow at the rope.

"Cute," he commented. "Do they actually manage to hold onto it the entire time? I mean, I'm sure some of them don't have issues listening, but, you know." He cut himself off lamely, then shrugged. "Just tell me what you need help with, Mister Parker."

Peter scowled at Tony. He lowered his voice, although he doubted the kids were paying that much attention with the way they were screeching their excitement in the background.

“I know my students, Mister Stark, and while that may not make me a billionaire, I know how to do my job.” Peter said, slapping a sticker onto Tony’s chest. “You’re not here to tell me how to teach, and you’re definitely not here to talk about my omega students.”

God, Peter had never met someone so insufferable in his life, and Quentin Beck was literally three doors down! “If you have something you want to say to me, go right ahead, but I won’t let anybody tell my pups that they’re less than for something out of their control,” he spat, glaring up at Tony.

Tony’s lips parted, looking taken aback, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Peter stepped back and took a breath. Once he had composed himself, he picked up his giant canvas bag and slung it over his shoulder. He turned back around to face his chattering students with a soft smile, raising a hand as he spoke, “1-2-3, eyes on me!”

Immediately the room quieted down as twenty two little bodies ran back to their tables. Peter grinned, clasping his hands in front of his chest.

“Thank you for paying attention, everyone. I know we’re all super excited to go to the museum today, but first, we have to welcome a guest and go over some rules!” Peter stepped back, trying to hide his amusement as he shoved Tony forward.

“Please say good morning to Morgan’s dad, Mister Stark, who will be joining us today.” twenty two pairs of eyes shifted and, at once, they all yelled, “Good morning!!”

“Mister Stark has never been on a trip with us before, so would everyone like to remind him of our rules?” Peter asked.

One after another, little voices chimed in with the rules in place for their outdoor trips. There was a few seconds of silence between each kid, as they waited expectantly for one another to finish before speaking up.

“Look both ways when you cross the street!”

“You always gotta hold onto the walking rope!”

“If you gotta go, tell Mister Parker!”

The list went on, until just about every kid had named some grand or minor rule Peter had set. He beamed at them once it quieted down again.

“Thank you everyone for speaking so nicely and getting all of our rules! You were all very respectful to one another and our guest.” Peter paced a little in front of his students, pretending to seem a bit confused. “But now I’m forgetting what respect means... Can anyone remind me?”

Abbie Keener, just a little beta at the table in the third row, called out, “R-ES-PE-C-Tee! It means when you treat somebody nicely.”

Peter nodded, but he didn’t stop his pacing, urging his students to continue answering.

“It’s how you show you care!” Another voice piped up.

And then another, “And you always respect everyone, no matter what!”

“Nooo, Mister Parker said that if somebody doesn’t respect you, you don’t gotta respect them back!”

Peter let out a dramatic gasp, having had his back turned to his class with all his pacing. He turned around and stared them all down, “Who said that?”

Twenty one little fingers shot out to point at Billy. Abbie, ever the loudmouth, yelled his name.

“Ding-ding-ding!! And for that, you get to be my very special line leader today, Billy. Come up here, honey,” Peter beamed at the baby omega, who snatched up his lunch bag and walked up to the front of the room.

Tony had wisely kept his mouth shut for the entire duration of Peter’s speech with his students, simply tucking his hands behind his back and smiling at them with pursed lips.

“Now everyone, when we get to the museum, remember to respect everything you see! Signs, rules, ropes— the museum isn’t ours, so we have to keep it nice and neat so that other people can enjoy it too,” Peter said, letting Billy grab onto the front loop of the walking rope.

He walked over to Tony, rather forcefully shoving the ending loop of the walking rope in his hands. Tony made a face at him, and Peter scowled back.

“Now everyone, get in line and hold onto the rope, please!” Peter directed, tapping little heads as they ran past him to make sure he had them all. Once everyone was holding onto a colorful foam loop on the rope, Peter took the front loop from Billy and held his hand instead.

He all but ignored Tony the entire walk out of the building, even taking his time to stop to have all the children say bye to Bucky at the front desk.

The American Museum of Natural History was only a fifteen minute walk from Trinity. Peter always stopped before a crosswalk, counting heads as his eyes raced over all the little chattering children, and then walking across the street backwards to keep his eyes on them at all times.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tony at the back of the line but— it was exactly that Peter didn’t trust him at the back of the line.

He raised an eyebrow every time Peter walked backwards, eyeing him inconspicuously, and met Peter’s eyes challengingly every time, like he was silently hinting that he wasn’t going to back down from a fight.

Eventually, when they finally reached the museum, Tony stepped up next to Peter and said quietly, “Can I have a quick talk with you before we let ‘em run havoc?”

Peter nodded tensely. The museum had a separate entrance for school groups, with a little cubby area for the kids to hang their lunch boxes and jackets. Peter helped them all get situated, grabbing a few maps from a stack at the sign-in table.

“Start looking for where you would like to go, alright? I have to talk to Mister Stark for a second, so please behave,” Peter said, having knelt down to be at eye level with all twenty two of his students.

They nodded, opening up the foldable maps with reckless abandon and sitting in little circles to look through them.

Peter walked over to Tony, casting a few concerned glances at his unsupervised students. He huffed, literally waiting for any sort of apology to come, and then—

Tony flicked his wrist to check for the time, revealing a high-quality, expensive-looking SI watch, then said, “Mister Parker, I’m going to be blunt with you: clearly, we’ve gotten off to the wrong start.”

He made a small noise in his throat when Peter huffed. “No, really. I understand that my presence has been—unpleasant, but this—look, this experience is something new for me. Now, Morgan—Morgan’s a good girl, she’s sweet, kind, and smart—clearly she inherited all those traits from yours truly.” He smirked, but when he got nothing in return, he dropped the cockiness.

“All I ask is that I’ll do my best here, and maybe it’ll let us figure out whatever this is between us. Unless you think there’s nothing between us at all, but then that would just be a lie, so.” He cleared his throat.

“Deal?” Tony stuck his hand out, clearly expecting Peter to shake it, like they were two little kids making a truce in the playground.

“Excuse me?” Peter hissed, casting a quick glance at the kids, before refocusing on the idiot in front of him. “You are here to make up for being a shi— a bad parent, and a bad alpha, to Morgan. There is absolutely nothing to figure out here.”

Especially between us, Peter left out, glaring up at Tony.

He swatted the man’s hand away. “If you’re going to act like a child, I will gladly treat you like one,” Peter spat. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, because he really did not get paid enough for this.

Peter composed himself, because he was not here to babysit a grown man, he was here to teach. Completely ignoring Tony, he turned back to his students.

“Okay, okay, where does everyone want to go?” Peter asked, kneeling down. He dropped his bag, sifting through it for a pen— he circled every spot the kids pointed to, and thankfully they didn’t end up choosing every single exhibit.

The Hayden Planetarium was right by their check-in spot, so Peter led everyone there first for the Worlds Beyond Earth show. The round theater had the kids twisting in their seats the entire time, craning their necks to follow the projections of the planets and stars as images flew over their heads.

The show lasted all of twenty five minutes before they moved on to the next exhibit— the Hall of North American Animals.

Peter was a bit more lax inside, letting the kids run around in pairs to look at all the animals. Eventually he called them all back to keep moving through the museum, stopping again in the Hall of Ocean Life. They skipped the second floor completely, as no one had wanted to see anything on it, and Peter led everyone upstairs to the dinosaur gallery.

He kept a closer eye on all of the kids here, as the gallery was more crowded, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to get lost or knock over some decades old bones. Peter chose an empty area right by the giant T. Rex skeleton, sitting down right on the floor.

“1-2-3, eyes on me! Everyone sits criss-cross...?”

Twenty two little voices chimed back, “Applesauce!”

They all sat in a semi-circle around Peter, who pulled tubs of Play-Doh out of his bag. “I want you to pick one of the animals we saw, whether it was a bear or a dinosaur, and make it with some clay. You can work together or by yourself if you want!” Peter explained, sliding the different colored tubs around.

“But when you’re done, I want you to show me, or the whole class if you want, and share something cool you remember about your animal.” He grinned, watching them all dig into the fresh Play-Doh tubs and pull out the clay. He always tried to give them as much choice as possible— no one ever had to do anything they didn’t want to.

The last thing Peter ever wanted was to make learning not fun for his kids, but from their reactions, he knew he was doing just fine so far. Passerby stared at the little group, although Peter paid them no mind. He glanced up at Tony, who was still standing and clearly itching to whip out his phone. Peter scoffed, pulling out a tub of pink Play-Doh from his bag.

“Hey! Come join us,” Peter called out. He held the tub out to Tony with a bit of a smirk, watching Morgan out of the corner of his eye. The little girl took a few seconds to stand up, running over to her dad.

“Daddy! Can you help Abbie and me with our triceratops?” She asked, although it sounded more like try-say-ah-tops. Peter stifled a laugh, pretending to focus on his stegosaurus.

"Yeah, honey, of course," Tony agreed easily, shooting one last look at Peter before letting Morgan drag him over to her pitiful effort for a dinosaur.

He hummed, listening as she and Abbie eagerly explained the details to him— "It has blue eyes" and "A long long tail 'cause that's what Mister Parker told us" and "big horns because it's cute!"

Tony chimed in every now and then, offering a new piece of Play-doh when it seemed necessary, helping Morgan mould the dinosaur by placing his hands on top of her smaller ones, making her giggle. He smiled and kissed the top of her head, then raised his head to look at Peter, like he was saying look, I'm being a good parent.

Everything was going smoothly. Then, someone chirped, "Mister Stark, have you ever seen a dinosaur before?"

Tony smiled at the question and shook his head. "No, no," he chuckled. "Do I look that old? Remember what Mister Parker said about them?"

"They stopped bein' alive a long, long time ago!" Morgan announced.

Tony gave her a quick kiss on the head. "That's right, smart girl."

“Do you wanna see one?”

Tony smiled blandly. “No.”

The students blinked. “Then how come you're here? Did you wanna see Mister Parker?"

Tony stilled at the question, pointedly not looking at Peter's face. "Did I come to see Mister Parker," he echoed. Then, he looked down at Morgan, who offered him a piece of green Play-Doh, and took it into his hands to begin to mold something.

"No, I didn't. Mister Parker did ask me to come with all of you lovely students, but no. I'm a very busy person so it's hard for me to come for fun, never mind to see certain people."

"But we still make cookies, Daddy," Morgan added.

Tony smiled. "We still make cookies," he agreed.

Morgan leaned back against him. "'cause you love me 3000."

"Because I love you 3000." Tony hummed. "And even though I'm busy, Mister Parker asked me to join him, and who would I be to deny him?" He turned and lifted an eyebrow, meeting Peter's eyes. "I'm a very generous person. I'd never deny someone like him."

By the time Peter called for them to stop and begin their little show-and-tell moment, Morgan had triumphantly taken a seat in Tony's lap. He let her play with her finished dinosaur while he quickly checked his phone. When she squirmed, he pocketed it, and then looked back up at Peter, who had just sent Angela to sit back down.

Show-and-tell went as well as expected, with each of the kids or groups getting to show off their clay animals. Peter was pretty sure they had more fun smushing them up at the end than anything else, but they were good with clean-up, and he was more than proud.

Once all the Play-Doh was packed away in their containers and in his bag, Peter passed around a little packet of wet wipes for them to clean off their hands. He did a quick head count as they cleaned up, and thankfully all twenty two kids were still with him.

“Does anyone need to use the bathroom before we move on?” Peter asked, watching a few little hands shoot straight up.

He glanced over at Tony, grimacing a bit. While Tony had been— kind of nice, aside from whenever he opened his mouth, Peter was still hesitant to leave him alone with so many kids. Still, Tony seemed eager to prove he cared, so Peter gave in against his better judgement. “You can watch them, right?” He asked.

Peter smiled tensely as Tony nodded. He tried to make it quick, especially because only six kids needed to use the bathroom. Once everyone was all situated, they rejoined Tony and the rest of the kids, who seemed perfectly fine.

Part of Peter really wanted to believe Tony was a good parent. He was clearly trying, in a really weird way, so it was definitely better than before. Morgan seemed a lot happier, and while it was clear her father was an asshole and a workaholic, maybe Tony really was a half-decent parent.

Peter decided not to dwell on it, walking around and tapping all his kids on the head as he did another quick count.

“Alright, we have one more exhibit to see!” Peter announced, clasping his hands together. “The butterfly conservatory is upstairs— please don’t run, stay with either me or Tony, alright?”

Little voices chimed back in agreement, and Peter led everyone upstairs. The butterfly conservatory was rather small compared to the other exhibits, so only a few groups were allowed in at a time. Peter opened the door, holding it open so the kids could file in along with Tony in the back.

The conservatory was beautiful, with walls made of glass panels. Plants from all over the world grew up the panels, carving out a concrete walkway for guests. Hundreds of butterflies were perched on leaves, flowers, or light fixtures.

“Remember to keep your voices down!” Peter reminded— it really didn’t matter how many times he had seen the same exhibit since he was a kid, the butterfly conservatory was never anything short of beautiful.

The kids sifted through buckets of tiny magnifying glasses around the conservatory, picking one out and running around to look at whatever caught their eye. Peter walked around the whole time, trying his best to check up on everyone and listen to each kid who pulled him over to look at something.

“Mister Parker!” a little voice gasped and Abbie tugged on his wrist. She pointed, and Peter slowly turned his head to see a large monarch butterfly perched on his shoulder.

He stood completely still, and maybe it was the green of his undershirt or how bright the berries of his jumpsuit looked, but several more butterflies decided to join their friend.

“There’s so many!” Morgan exclaimed, as a swallowtail landed in Peter’s hair. There was another sticking to his forearm, and several more butterflies flying in his general proximity. The few kids around him ran off to get their classmates, and eventually all of them were crowding around a few feet away from Peter.

“Daddy, come see!” Morgan said, tugging Tony over.

A blue and purple butterfly— gossamer-winged, Peter noted— landed on the tip of his nose. He grinned wide, trying hard not to move so he wouldn’t startle any of them.

But then Peter had to sneeze.

The kids all giggled when his sneeze sent a storm of butterflies fluttering up and away, and even Tony smirked as Morgan laughed, loud and bubbly and delighted.

“Mister Parker, do you have allergies?” Tony drawled with a smirk when Peter sneezed again.

Before either one of them could say anything, another butterfly landed in Peter’s hair, and another, and another.

Morgan squealed at the sight. “Look, Daddy! Mister Parker’s like a Disney princess!”

Tony laughed as Peter blushed and smiled at the words, and he nodded, still grinning. “You’re right, honey. He’s just as pretty as one too. Beats the butterflies, I’d say.”

He reached out and gently caught one of the butterflies in Peter’s hair, lifting it out, and placed it onto Morgan’s hair. “And now you can be just as pretty as Mister Parker.”

Morgan’s eyes widened in delight and she gasped, “Gonna go show Abbie!” before rushing off to do exactly that, ignoring both Peter and Tony’s wince and Tony’s, “Walk, honey!”

They watched Morgan chatter excitedly to her friends. Everything seemed to be motionless and sweet and picturesque, until Tony broke the illusion by turning to face Peter.

He lifted an eyebrow and reached out to catch another butterfly that had been headed for his shoulder, and a finger brushed against his neck. Awkwardly, Tony yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. “The kids love it here,” he said lamely.

He turned to check on Morgan again, and then said, “You’re her favorite, you know. Never stops talking about you.” He huffed a small laugh.

“Couldn’t understand why at first, but you know what? I think I get it now.” A small shrug. “Pretty, sweet, and smart—of course she likes you. Everyone likes you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, although he found himself less mad than he should’ve been at how thick Tony was laying it on.

“Are you included in everyone, then?” Peter raised an eyebrow. He glanced over at the kids running around, before spotting Morgan showing off a butterfly perched on her index finger to some of her friends.

"Oh, certainly," Tony agreed with a grin. He nudged Peter playfully, moving to bump his hip against his before stilling. "Everyone means everyone, honeypot."

He couldn’t help but smile, turning to Tony, “Don’t tell her, because I’m not really allowed to have favorites— but she’s mine, too.”

He quirked his lips and added, "You're lucky I don't have a big mouth. Your secret's safe with me, Mister Parker."

Their time at the museum eventually ran out, as Peter checked the time on his phone and realized they had to get going. He called out to his students, grinning as little voices chimed back from all over the room.

He raised his hand so they could easily spot him, and twenty two kids came running towards him.

“Woah, okay, calm down!” Peter laughed, helping them line up. He tapped them on the head as he passed by, counting under his breath. Once he had everyone, they headed back downstairs.

The kids got their jackets and lunchboxes from the cubbies they’d left them in, and Peter pulled out the walking rope again.

They all lined up with practiced ease, and as Peter led them out of the building, he announced, “We’re actually going to have our lunch in the park today, instead of going back to schoo—“

He was cut off by a bunch of little gasps and exclamations, laughing lightly. “But shhh, no one can know, okay? This is our little secret for today.” Peter winked, holding a finger up to his lips.

The kids didn’t stop talking the entire walk, which was relatively short, as Central Park was right behind the museum. He picked a grassier area and pulled out some of the blankets he had very carefully folded and stacked inside his bag.

“You can go play after you have your lunch!” Peter said, hands cupped around his mouth.

After a few minutes, Morgan waddled over to Peter and plopped herself down on his blanket. She glanced around to make sure no one was looking, before leaning in to whisper, “Can we have the cookies now?”

Peter stifled a laugh as he nodded. “You can hand them out, okay? There’s enough for everyone to have one.” He slid the Tupperware container out of his bag and popped off the lid. Morgan happily took it, and this time she didn’t run, walking around to all the little groups of kids to make sure everyone got one.

While Morgan shared the treats, Tony sat down next to Peter, ignoring his slightly surprised look. He shrugged. "Chaperones sit together, don't they?" Tony shifted, trying to get comfortable on the ground. He was clearly too used to his comfy leather office chairs.

He grinned when Morgan came running back with the Tupperware. "Two left for you!" she announced through a mouthful.

Tony reached out to take one, popping Morgan on the mouth lightly and teasingly saying, "Chew, honey," before handing the cookie over to Peter with a raised eyebrow.

"My treat." He snorted. Then he pressed it into Peter's hands and took the last one from the container. Morgan dropped the empty container into his hands, but Tony turned and placed it onto Peter's lap. "Also my treat."

He took a bite from the cookie, chewing, then asked, "How's the microwave? I just bought the one with the most reviews; if you need another, or more, you can let me know. Do you need help to prepare for parent-teacher conferences? I'm free."

Peter rolled his eyes, although it lacked any heat. Holding the cookie between his teeth, he popped the lid back onto the tupperware container, hiding it away in his bag.

“The microwave is fine, I told you, you didn’t have to—”

"Well, I'm making more time. Not—not for you. For Morgan," Tony said, sniffing lightly as he dusted cookie crumbs off his hands.

He pointed at Morgan with his half-eaten cookie. "Because I'm not a—" he had the sense to lower his voice "—shitty parent, despite your beliefs, Mister Parker. I'm a busy parent, but I'm making time for my daughter. So stop stroking your ego by trying to act like you do more for my pup than I do for her."

Peter’s face fell. Maybe— maybe he'd been a bit too harsh.

With that, Tony stood up and made his way over to Morgan, who happily greeted him with a hug. Tony hoisted her up into his arms, then raised an eyebrow at Peter, like he was saying, see?

What Tony had done was shitty, he wasn’t going to deny it. No kid deserved to just be forgotten about for that long, and Peter, as much as he loved Morgan, was not a babysitter. But since the incident, Tony had clearly been trying. His attempts to make it up to Morgan were clearly more heartfelt and successful than his attempts with Peter, but it was still something.

Considering how some of the parents of his other students acted, despite their consistent presence, Tony was definitely shaping up to be one of the better parents— at least, concerning his bond with Morgan.

Peter was quickly distracted by a few kids running up to him and trying to tug him over to play. He kicked off his shoes, letting himself be pulled into whatever game they were playing.

It turned out to be a giant game of freeze tag, and Peter quickly realized he was their consistent target, considering how much bigger he was than them.

“Unfreeze Mister Parker!” One of the kids yelled to Billy. The little omega came running into Peter, who unfroze immediately to catch him.

Peter laughed, hoisting Billy up in his arms as one of the kids who was “it” tried to run after them. “Hey! The next person who freezes me is getting lunchtime detention!”

“LIAR!” Abbie shouted, because everyone knew Peter never gave detention, for anything. Peter was breathless, running around with a kid in his arms, as all the taggers surrounded him.

He panicked, and glanced over at Tony, who was sitting on his phone, with Morgan tucked in his lap. “Whoever tags Mister Stark first gets one of the strawberry candies from my desk!” He yelled with a grin, loud enough to get Tony’s attention.

Tony’s eyes widened when he heard the words and he shoved his phone in his pocket, trying to scramble to his feet, but it was too late. He went down as the students tackled Tony eagerly, shouting about who’d won the candies.

Tony groaned under the weight of the kids and shifted Morgan off of him to crane his neck up and look at Peter. “I think I deserve the strawberry candies,” he complained with a huff, but he was grinning, which showed that he wasn’t really upset over being squashed.

One by one, he carefully shifted the giggling students off and sat up, dusting himself off before scrambling to his feet. “And now, whoever tackles Mister Parker to the ground gets a fat stack of cash from me! Yes, this is me bribing all of you.”

The kids shouted and squealed as they charged at Peter after he finished speaking, even though they probably didn’t understand what the reward really was. Tony stood back, grinning, and watched in satisfaction as Peter struggled to fend off the students.

After getting tackled, Peter decided he’d had his fill of freeze tag, and took a break on his blanket while the kids kept chasing each other around.

Eventually, they began to tire out.Their shouting and giggling died down to the occasional grin and joke, and they ran slow and clumsily enough that Billy tripped over Abbie’s shoe, resulting in them both tumbling down to the ground.

And then: tears.

Every omegan instinct Peter had was on red alert as he looked up, but— Tony was handling it.

Tony was closest to them, and instinctively he helped them both stand up, dusting off their pants. “You’re okay,” he said briskly. “It was a tumble, but you’re both brave and strong, you’re okay.”

“‘m bleeding!” Billy whined tearfully.

Tony blinked. “Okay, shi—okay, I’m sure Mister Parker has a band-aid for you, c’mon.” He scooped Billy up into his arms and walked over to Peter, navigating around the group of kids who’d decided to sit down and play hand games rather than run.

“We have a fallen soldier,” he announced, plopping Billy into Peter’s arms.

“It’s alright, honey, I got you,” Peter mumbled, reaching into his bag for the mini first-aid kit he always carried. As well behaved as his students were, they were still six and seven, and accidents were inevitable.

“It’s going to sting a little, okay? I need you to be my brave little pup right now, Billy,” Peter said softly. He pulled out an antiseptic wipe as Billy hiccuped, rubbing at teary eyes with tiny fists.

Peter tried to wipe his knees and elbows as quickly as he could, wincing softly as Billy whined harder. “Ow, ow— it hurts,” he sniffled. Peter cooed, making sure any blood or dirt from the grass was gone.

“I know, honey, it’s okay,” he mumbled. Peter applied bandaids over Billy’s scrapes, and when he was all done, he pressed little kisses over the bandaids. "There we go! All better, right?"

“Uh-huh,” Billy mumbled. He squirmed in Peter’s lap, wrapping his arms around him. Peter exhaled softly, cradling the little boy in his arms and rubbing his back. Billy didn’t seem intent on moving just yet.

“Think it’s about time to go home, don’t you think?” Tony asked. Watching Billy in Peter’s arms, he hastily added, “If—if you agree. You’re in charge here, Mister Parker, aren’t you?”

Peter looked up at Tony and nodded. “Can you, uh— can you round them up for me? Get them to put their shoes on and stuff?” He asked.

Tony blinked. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed easily. “‘course. Um, what do you—“ He broke off when Peter gave him a look, and said awkwardly, far too quietly, “1-2-3, um—“

Morgan giggled. “You gotta do it louder, Daddy!”

And now nearly every kid was staring at Tony expectantly. Tony twitched. “1-2-3,” he said loudly. “Eyes on me?”

It ended up sounding more like a question, but it worked, because all the students called out delightedly, “4-5-6, everyone shush!”

“Okay, c’mon, shoes on,” Tony directed. “You— why are you taking your socks off? Christ, no, come here.”

He made his way around and began to help them jam shoes (and socks) on, then herded them together, desperately trying to do a head count while the kids chattered and laughed, moving around to poke at each other.

“Stop smirking,” Tony hissed at Peter as he counted. Peter, still cradling Billy in his lap, held a hand up in mock surrender.

“This is harder than I expected, god.” And he sent Peter a look that was just a bit impressed, because, well, Peter did this much better than he did.

Billy finally pulled away, wiping at his eyes as he sniffled lightly. “Thank you, Mister Parker,” he said, getting up off Peter’s lap.

“Of course, honey. Do you want to help me clean up?” Peter asked. Billy agreed, and helped him pick up all the blankets as Tony got the kids together. Peter folded them up into little squares, tucking them away in his bag.

Tony still got the job done, and even managed to fish out the walking rope to make the kids stand in a line.

“I wanna stand in the front!” Morgan whined.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, honey, c’mon—“

“But I was here first!” Jeremy wailed, pouting. “Just ‘cause he’s your dad doesn’t mean you get what you want! ‘s not fair!”

Tony gave Peter a helpless look that clearly said, help.

He glanced over at Tony and couldn’t help but smirk. Peter took pity on him as the little argument broke out— playfully rolling his eyes, Peter took the walking rope from Tony.

“Cute,” he said, mocking Tony’s earlier comment.

Peter stepped in front of him, kneeling down in front of the kids. “Hey, hey! We do not say that, Jeremy. Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can be disrespectful to Morgan— remember what we learned about respect?”

“But— s’not fair!” Jeremy huffed.

“Jeremy. Look at me, honey,” Peter said, pulling the little boy towards him. “I know you’re a sweet boy, you didn’t mean that. What if you hurt Morgan’s feelings by saying that? Being mean is not going to get you what you want.”

Jeremy sniffled a bit, his face softening as he nodded along. He padded over to Morgan, glancing back at Peter, before saying, “M’sorry Morgan.”

“It’s okay, Jeremy,” she replied, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Hug?” She asked, waiting for him to nod before standing up on her tip-toes to give him a hug.

Peter couldn’t help but be a bit proud of his students; then again, he always was. He really tried to avoid teaching them too much about the differences between designations. They were still little, and encouraging them to think of one another as different did nothing but hold his omega and beta pups back.

One of the first things he did teach them was that, regardless of being an alpha or beta or omega, they were never supposed to touch anyone without their permission.

“Thank you for making up so nicely,” Peter said. “Now you can both be my line leaders, okay?”

The two beamed up at him, scrambling to get to the front of the line and hold onto the two foam loops. It was fairly easy for Peter to get the rest of the kids situated in the line, counting as he went.

The walk back to the school was easy and uneventful, except for the kids screaming and pointing every time they passed a hoard of pigeons. Security buzzed Peter back in, and he held the door open as the kids dropped the rope and ran back to their classroom.

He rolled it up as the last kid let go and it fell lax, strolling behind alongside Tony.

“If you ever get tired of being a billionaire, I could always use a teacher’s aide,” he teased.

“Oh, yeah, I was clearly born for this job,” Tony agreed with a chuckle, then stopped. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean it in that way; I’m sorry. I meant—you’re just—you’re good with them. I can barely handle Morgan on my own.” He gave a sheepish laugh.

Peter blinked in surprise, but smiled awkwardly and told him not to worry about it as they headed back to the classroom.

They had only gotten back to school a few minutes before actual dismissal, so Peter made sure all the kids got their backpacks on before letting them out. He made sure to hand out the strawberry candies he’d promised them in the park, to their happy surprise.

His classroom was on the ground floor, so he had a door that led straight into the school yard. He made sure to explain to Billy’s parents what had happened, and they were understanding enough.

Peter waved goodbye to each of his students, and when he returned to his classroom, he was surprised to see Tony and Morgan still there.

Tony glanced down at Morgan. “Daddy’s here on time too,” he told her, like it wasn’t obvious already.

She beamed. “I know.” She waited until Peter returned after everyone had left to announce, “Now the three of us gotta sit ‘n read ‘n share snacks!”

Tony blinked. Peter blinked. Morgan smiled.

Then, Tony said, “Honey, don’t you want to go home?”

Morgan shook her head and reached out to take Peter’s hand. “Gotta follow routine,” she told him earnestly. “Please?”

“It’s what we do— used to do, when we had to wait after school.” Peter commented, wincing lightly. Tony had been picking up Morgan so frequently, and on time, lately, that there had been no need for it.

Tony hesitated. “We don’t want to bother Mister Parker, Morgan, he might want to go home.” He shot a glance at Peter. “C’mon, now, it’s not nice to demand things like that from someone nice like him.” He outstretched a hand, indicating that she should take his.

“I mean— if you don’t have somewhere to be?” Peter glanced up at Tony, as he took Morgan’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

“Do you want to pick a snack from the closet, honey?” Peter asked her. She replied with an enthusiastic, “Yeah!” before letting go of his hand and running off.

Peter laughed lightly, stepping behind his desk to go through his books. They had finished the Tale of Despereaux, and Peter usually let Morgan have her pick of what to read next. He knelt down, pulling out a few chapter books, a lot heftier than what was in his small class library.

“Morgan really likes Kate DiCamillo, y’know. I think it’s all the animals— I keep trying to introduce The Bookwanderers by Anna James, but she doesn’t seem too interested,” Peter rambled absentmindedly, as he scanned over the backs of his books for the synopses. He held up any he thought Morgan would be interested in for Tony to hold.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, though he accepted the books that Peter handed over to him. Scanning the summary of one book, he commented absentmindedly, “I didn’t know you’d been reading so much with her.”

He scanned another book after tucking that onto the pile, humming and craning his neck to see whether Morgan had returned yet, but nope, it was just them.

Tony cleared his throat, awkwardly checking his watch and then his phone for absolutely no reason, then watched as Peter picked out one last book.

Taking it, he raised an eyebrow and lifted it up for Peter to see, like he was making sure he hadn’t pulled out the wrong one. “Are you sure it’s not too difficult for her? She is smart, and I know teaching is in your nature, but—I mean, maybe you don’t get what she can get at this age, you know?”

He flipped through it, checking it out, and completely missed the way Peter was practically fuming. It wasn’t that Peter was bad at taking criticism (that’s how you learn, of course), it was the way Tony said it.

The same way he had all but laughed at Peter’s teaching methods that morning. The underlying condescending tone was what pissed him off more than anything, the way Tony thought he was being so kind to say teaching was in Peter’s nature, but then questioned how he did it.

It was how people mocked children, and Peter— he never mocked his students, no matter how much older, more mature, or smarter he perceived himself to be.

Peter stood up, dusting himself off. “Mister Stark, your daughter has been reading at a fourth grade level since October,” he said rather flatly. “Maybe if you actually spent time with her, you’d know that.” He snatched the small stack of books from Tony, cradling them against his chest.

“What I do may not be rocket science, or whatever the hell it is you do, but I know how to do my job, Mister Stark. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me.” Peter huffed.

All of those compliments Tony had paid him at the museum and at the park— they had just been cheap, pale attempts at flattery.

He was just trying to make himself look like a better parent, not actually be one. Of course he thought Peter was made for his job, everyone thought that about omegas in any kind of nurturing position. It made Peter want to gag.

He spun on his heel, turning his back to Tony. Morgan was already in the reading corner, having piled up some of the pillows and bean bag chairs Peter kept there.

“Alright, Miss Morgan, I really tried to pick you some good ones this time!” Peter grinned, sitting down in one of the chairs.

“Lemme see!” She said, abandoning her pack of mini muffins to reach for the small stack of books. Morgan gasped softly as she peeked at all of them.

“You found The Mira-clus Journey of Edward Tulane! You said there was no more in all of New York!” She exclaimed, gripping the book between her little hands.

Peter grinned, shrugging a bit like it was no big deal. “Well, I had to find a copy just for you.”

Tony was very, very still for the next few seconds. He watched silently as Peter opened the book, then came over and asked, "You mind if I join, Morgan?"

Morgan beamed. "'Course!" she said happily. She made grabby hands for Tony. "I said all three of us, daddy!" And then she offered him a mini muffin.

"Thank you, honey," Tony chuckled. He came over and sat down next to Morgan, then let her climb onto his lap and sit down. He wrapped his arms around her, then accepted the muffin with his mouth, chewing and humming.

"Delicious," he teased, tapping her on the nose. "Now, Mister Parker is going to read to us—to you—and you be good and listen to him, okay?"

Morgan nodded, then turned hopeful eyes to Peter, completely and entirely unaware of the tension in Peter's shoulders and the way Tony didn't meet Peter's eyes, the way they both hurriedly looked away when they locked gazes accidentally.

Tony listened as Peter began to read. He looked subtly impressed by how intently Morgan listened, and how she interrupted Peter every now and then to quip little comments about the story. Every time, Tony's eyes flicked to Peter, but Peter never said or did anything that screamed, I told you so.

For once, Tony didn't take his phone out while sitting there. Instead, he let Peter and Morgan do their thing with an unreadable expression on his face, and when the clock hit 3:45, he finally jostled Morgan lightly and murmured, "Time to go home, don't you think?"

Morgan pouted. "But 's the good part now!"

"I know, I know, but Mister Parker's voice has to be tired by now," Tony coaxed. "You want him strong and healthy, don't you? Like you, my big, grown-up alpha pup?"

He laughed when Morgan bared her teeth at him teasingly, and gave her a kiss on the top of her head before directing, "Go get your bag, honey. Time to go home."

Peter placed a bookmark where they left off, watching Morgan skip off to get her things. He huffed softly as Tony pulled out his phone yet again, as if he couldn’t live without it.

Peter stood up, clutching the book close to his chest. He swallowed thickly, rocking back and forth on his heels before saying, “For the record, I— you’re not a bad parent. At least, I don’t think so.”

He leaned down, placing The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane on top of the other books he’d brought over before picking up the entire stack. Standing back up, he walked over and held them out to Tony.

“You can’t keep them. But, just— when you have the time. Read with her.” Peter said. He glanced over at Morgan by her cubby. She fiddled with the tortoise shell buttons on her jacket. “She loves it, more than anything. And there is so much going on in her head sometimes even I can’t keep up but—“

Peter could hear Steve yelling at him: Too involved, take a step back. Or five.

He cut himself off, staring down at his shoes, before looking back up at Tony with a small smile. “We live in New York for god’s sake, get a library card or something. I think she’d like that.”

“All ready!” Morgan called, holding up a thumbs up. She rushed over to grab Tony’s hand, noticing all the books he had. She beamed at Peter, mouth open in a small O. “Are those for me?”

Peter nodded, kneeling down to be at eye level with her. “Yeah, honey. You can bring them back and forth, so you get to read with your alpha and with me. Isn’t that great?”

Morgan gave another little gasp, looking at Tony. “Really?”

“Mhm. Now, you get to be my little bookkeeper okay? Same rules apply.” Peter reminded, as Morgan nodded.

“Bookmarks only! No corner creasing!” She recited, looking rather proud of herself. Peter laughed lightly, “That’s right. Now, we both have to get going, hmm?”

Morgan let go of Tony’s hand, stepping towards Peter. “Hug?” She asked, although with Peter, she rarely did anymore. He always welcomed a hug from his favorite student.

Peter opened up his arms, and Morgan darted between them, wrapping her own around Peter’s neck. “Bye, Miss Morgan.” He mumbled, as she said it back.

They let go, and Morgan pressed herself into Tony’s side again, reaching for his hand. Peter did his very best to ignore the part of him that didn’t want them to go.

______

As expected, Steve gave him an earful in the teacher’s lounge for the next two weeks. Peter was barely paying attention, sipping morosely at his watery Keurig coffee, longing for Tuesday’s when the catering company came.

“You understand how that looks Peter—” He cut Steve off with a pointed look.

“You think I don’t know that, Steve? It’s not my fault the man is clueless about raising his own pup,” Peter retorted.

“I just don’t think it’s appropri—”

“You literally drool over our head of security, if anyone here is being inappropriate it’s—”

“That’s beside the point!” Steve flushed, from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks. Peter stifled a laugh as the bell rang, snatching up his giant canvas bag and mug of watery coffee.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of your own denial!” he called over his shoulder as he stepped out of the room. Steve’s reply was drowned out by the hoards of children entering the building and running amok.

The morning went rather normally, with Peter’s students greeting him as soon as he walked through the door. A few came up to his desk to compliment his outfit— although anything as colorful as Peter’s pink pants, green and yellow knit sweater vest, and yellow floral shirt with pink plastic worm earrings was enough to grab the attention of six year olds.

Everything was fine, until Morgan shyly padded up to his desk right before lunchtime.

“What’s wrong, Morgan?” he asked.

She stood up on her tip-toes and leaned over his desk to whisper in his ear, “I forgot my lunch at home.”

Peter cooed softly. “It’s okay, honey, everyone forgets things. I’ll call your dad— maybe he can bring something down, and if he can’t, I promise I’ll let you have all the snacks you want out of the closet.”

Morgan nodded, holding up her pinky finger. “Dill, pickle?”

“We have a dill, pickle.” Peter said, lacing their pinkies together and squeezing gently. The bell rang for lunchtime, and Peter urged all his kids outside. Thankfully, he never had lunch duty, because monitoring a ton of screaming kids would probably kill him.

Peter still had Tony’s phone number from when he’d chaperoned their trip two weeks ago, so he called. Fully expecting to hear some receptionist on the other line, he was surprised when Tony answered.

“Hello?”

Peter cleared his throat. “Hi, I know you’re at work, and— well, you’re busy, but Morgan told me she forgot her lunch at home. Do you think you could swing something by for her?” he asked, tapping lightly on his desk.

“Oh, did she?” Tony sounded concerned. “Yes, alright. Just— just gimme a few.”

Peter grinned when Tony easily agreed, and responded, “Yeah, yeah, no worries— just bring it straight to my classroom.” And then, more sincerely, “Thank you, Tony.”

The call dropped, and Peter got some work done for the next twenty or so minutes. But then he was interrupted by the sound of shouting outside, followed by complete silence. He panicked, snatching up his lanyard and rushing outside.

Quentin Beck, the teacher from 105B down the hall, was holding back one of his eight year olds. Cindy Moon, one of Peter’s omega students, was nestled behind Abbie, Jeremy, and a few of his other kids. Abbie was missing a shoe, and Cindy looked absolutely terrified.

“What is going on out here?” Peter asked, immediately rushing over to his kids.

He regretted asking, the scene erupting into literal chaos as everyone began to talk at once. “Stop it! You all know better than this! Now, one person, at a time, tell me what happened.”

“Eugene—” There was a heavy pat on the eight year old’s back “—was just messing around. You know how alphas are. I stepped in, just to make sure everyone was alright, and one of your kids threw her shoe at my head,” Beck said, as Peter looked behind him and— sure enough, there was Abbie’s shoe.

He leaned down to meet her eyes. “Abbie, why did you do that? You have never hit anyone, ever!” Peter asked, and the little girl’s face twisted into one of anger.

“‘Cause he tried to do— to use the, the voice! On Cindy!” She exclaimed, and the other kids crowded around Peter’s legs, mumbling varied yeah!’s. Peter froze, glancing up at Beck.

That was— no, poor little Abbie Keener had to have been mistaken. The use of an alpha voice wasn’t illegal, nor was it looked down upon when used on omegas. But things were getting better for omegas, definitely, so it was a lot less commonplace than it used to be.

Alphas trying to posture or mated alphas would often use it if their omega or beta was ever in distress. But there was a generally agreed upon idea that it was never to be used on pups, regardless of designation. So there was no way Beck, a teacher, would ever—

“Did you try to force my pup to submit to you?”

Beck didn't even look fazed.

“You do not get to yell at my children. You do not get to discipline them. And you most definitely,” Peter stepped towards Beck, every protective instinct in his body on red alert, “do not get to use archaic and outdated forms of submission to get my pups to do what you want!”

Beck just crossed his arms, nodded at Abbie's shoe, and said nasally, "I think we're missing the point here, Peter." He walked over, picked up the shoe, and held it out to Abbie, who shied away immediately behind Peter.

Peter snatched the shoe out of Beck’s hand. He couldn’t believe that Beck, with such ease, was really about to use his alpha voice on a group of children— practically babies. God, some of Peter’s kids still wore pull-ups during nap time. He handed Abbie back her shoe before nudging her behind his legs.

"You need to discipline your students and teach them how to behave. I mean, really, a shoe?” Beck scoffed. "They were just having an argument and I was going to handle it in the best way I could before it got blown out of proportion."

"That's not fair!" Abbie stomped her foot. "Mister Parker said no touchin' other people unless they say so! And Cindy said no!"

Beck scowled back at her and wagged a finger, making her flinch away again. "That does not mean you resort to throwing shoes and shouting, young lady!" he scolded. "Completely unacceptable. God, Peter, I swear, you fix this or I'll start thinking that you don't know how to behave either."

And that was just—a complete slap in the face.

The students seemed to realize the tension between Beck and Peter, because they all fell silent, waiting for Peter's response.

Beck, though, was considerably less smart than literal six-year-old students, because he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, "If she was my student..."

“You are a grown alpha! What example are you setting for your students, over a kid being a kid?” Peter huffed, turning away to focus his attention on making sure his students were alright.

He and Steve had never liked Beck, and for good reason. There were plenty of good alpha teachers, but there was a reason the job tended to be one of the few society believed was made for omegas— the natural desire to protect and nurture, as opposed to harsh discipline and forcing others into submission.

“Are you all okay?” He asked softly. Abbie needed help tying her shoe, so Peter helped her get the knot going, and she finished the double lace herself. Cindy still looked terrified out of her mind, so Peter reached for the baby omega, and she quickly rushed into his arms. He scooped her up, gently cradling her head with one hand.

Peter turned back to Beck, defiance in his eyes, clearly refusing to stand down. “I think you owe my pups an apology, Mister Beck,” Peter said tersely.

Beck's jaw flexed at the words and he met Peter's eyes, chin jutted out arrogantly.

But as stupid as he was, he wasn't quite idiotic enough to do anything that would get him fired, and he simply said, "I apologize for interfering, Mister Parker. I understand how... different our methods of discipline are, and I'm glad we could acknowledge those differences. Now, if you don't mind—"

He nudged his students along, beginning to usher them away. "—I'll be making sure that no one else gets hit by a tantruming pup's shoe."

He walked off, leaving Peter alone with his kids.

Peter was immediately bombarded by his kids, and honestly focusing on their comfort was easier— and better for his peace of mind— than chasing after Beck to give him a piece of his mind.

Abbie burst into tears and she wailed, "I wasn't tantruming!" She clung to Peter desperately, her little fists clenched around his shirt, and she pleaded, "Don't wanna be in trouble! Please! I didn't mean to!"

Peter shifted Cindy, so she was pressed into his left side, pulling Abbie into his right. “Shhh, I know, honey, you are not in trouble, okay?” he soothed, rubbing her back as she wailed.

"He was mean, Mister Parker!" Cindy whispered. "Is he gonna be our teacher when we're bigger 'n older?"

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Peter mumbled to Cindy.

Abbie wailed even harder at that. "I don't want him! I don't want a dumb, stinky, mean alpha to be my teacher!"

Oliver, a little beta who had been hiding behind Jeremy, was trying to join in the group hug, but Peter only had so much arm.

Peter pulled back, focusing on Abbie for a moment. He wiped away a few stray tears and booped her nose. “Just because one alpha was mean doesn’t mean all of them are. Morgan’s daddy is an alpha, and you all liked him, didn’t you?”

“Well.. yeah,” Abbie replied, sucking in a deep breath. Peter glanced at the other kids in their little circle, who all mumbled similar sentiments.

Peter was not equipped well enough for this conversation, but he had to try his best. “Being an alpha is not about being meaner or louder than anyone else. Being an alpha—” Peter chucked Abbie lightly under the chin, so she’d look up at him.

“Being an alpha, a real alpha, is about protecting and listening and taking care of people. And I think you did a really good job protecting Cindy today, don’t you think so?” Peter waited, as Abbie sniffled and nodded. “Then you have nothing to be sorry for, honey.”

They each lined up to get another hug from Peter, eventually all perking up a bit. “You can go back and keep eating and playing now, okay? Just— avoid Mister Beck, and no more shoe throwing!”

They all giggled at that, and instantly the mood was brightened again as they started chasing each other around. Peter exhaled sharply, because god, he really didn’t get paid enough for this.

Peter headed back into his classroom, albeit reluctantly. He kept the door into the yard propped open just in case anything else happened, but returned to his desk hoping to pick up where he left off.

He was granted a few minutes of peace and quiet, but of course, that was the best he got. There was a knock at his door that made Peter twist in his seat to see who it was.

Beck.

“Peter,” the man greeted, slipping in without even being invited, because of course he did. “I thought we’d gotten off to a bit of a rough start to the day, so I wanted to come here and see how you’re doing now.”

There was so much that was off about Beck. He had always rubbed Peter the wrong way, due to his insistence on lacking any kind of respect and always referring to Peter and Steve by their first names.

He smiled at Peter politely, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and they’d known each other long enough that Peter knew it was all an act.

Still, Beck kept the act up, impressively enough. “Your students are always so well-behaved, it surprised me when that happened,” he continued. Coming closer to Peter, he added, “But, well, kids will be kids. Omegas are omegas, alphas are alphas, and betas are betas. It’s just biology to react the way we do, isn’t it?”

He smiled again. “You know, and this comes from a place of pure concern, please don’t misunderstand—I almost wonder if they need a better role model.”

He stayed quiet as Beck spoke, trying to focus on his work. The end of the year was creeping up on them, and unlike other teachers, Peter didn’t provide report cards or letter grades. Each and every one of his students received a personalized letter regarding their performance and growth in his class.

But Beck was now at the edge of Peter’s desk, looking down at him in a way that he couldn’t just ignore. “Almost makes me wonder if you need a better role model. And Peter—I say this because we’re friendly co-workers—if you ever need a hand, all you need to do is call me.” His jaw was clenched now. “Repeat it.”

When Peter remained eerily silent, his hand twitched like he wanted to reach out and grab Peter, but he refrained. Instead, he opened his mouth, and—

“Repeat it.”

It was the voice that Peter couldn’t ignore.

Peter twitched, trying so hard to tell his body to just resist. Ignore it, it was just words, they didn’t mean he had to do anything. But it was useless— Peter’s head lolled back, exposing his neck as his pupils blew wide.

He couldn’t help but submit, giving into his stupid fucking biology that proved time and time again he would always be lesser.

“I-If.. If I ever need a hand, all I need to do is call you,” he repeated, breath hitching lightly.

"Good," Beck murmured, his hand reaching out like he was going to stroke his hand through Peter's hair, but he didn't. Maybe it was because he knew Peter would castrate him afterwards, or he wasn't dumb enough to even try.

Peter’s cell phone started to buzz, perched at the edge of his desk. Beck paused before saying, “Might want to pick that up, Peter."

Peter refused to move— refused to give Beck what he wanted, that constant, visible submission. He knew it was probably Tony calling, to let him know he was on his way, or maybe he couldn’t make it at all.

Beck waited, his eyes resting on Peter. When Peter didn't move, still from both shock and anger, he made his way around so that he was standing behind him. Resting a hand on his shoulder, he squeezed lightly, sending a shudder through Peter's body.

"Pick it up," he directed, letting his voice slip into that silky, irresistible voice. "Now, Peter. It's rude to keep people waiting, isn't it?"

Beck’s tone was condescending, knowing how much Peter hated it, knowing how it grated on his nerves.

Peter’s breath hitched, keeping his mouth shut as a large hand gripped his shoulder, unable to help the way his body shuddered.

It didn’t matter how hard he tried to fight it, or how the rational part of his brain knew Beck wasn’t anything to him, so he would never willfully submit. Peter’s body recognized Beck as an alpha, his alpha in that moment, and he just had to do as he was told.

He reached for his phone, snatching it up the moment it stopped buzzing. And, fuck, now he was stuck with this knothead until the bell rang. Peter felt lightheaded, praying that maybe he’d just fucking faint and save himself the further trouble and embarrassment of having to do whatever Beck told him.

Beck sighed. "And now you missed your call," he tutted. "What should we do about that, hm? What're you gonna do now that you're left alone with the big, bad wolf?"

There was a knock at the door, insistent, and then—

“Mister Parker?”

And then the door opened to reveal Tony, standing there with a tupperware container in his hand. He blinked, looking surprised, and he said, apologetically, "I didn't know you had a visitor; I tried calling—"

Peter could’ve sobbed from relief. It was Tony, an alpha he knew. He frantically shook his head, still unable to pry himself from Beck’s grip.

Tony’s eyes flitted to Beck, taking in the sight of the alpha teacher, and then the hand on his shoulder, still squeezing and unmoving despite their visitor, and Peter, who looked pale and stiff.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, coming closer. "Get off of him, Christ!"

"I'm not—"

"I said off!" Tony repeated. "He doesn't want you to touch him; can't you see the look on his face?"

"He doesn't know what he wants," Beck snapped back. "He's just—"

"Don't finish that sentence or I'll throw this sandwich at your face," Tony interrupted. "Mister Parker—Peter—tell me: you don't want him touching you, do you?"

“No, no,” Peter insisted, too anxious and scenting like feardistressanger, to care or be embarrassed about Tony seeing him like that.

"See? You heard him," Tony snapped. "Get off." He moved towards Beck threateningly, and he finally released his grip on Peter.

"Clearly there's just been a misunderstanding here," was all Beck said. His eyes flitted over Peter's face briefly. "Mister Stark, you should know that I would never—"

"Get out." Tony pointed, scowling. "God, you're pathetic, doing this to—just, get out."

Beck left swiftly, face dark and stormy.

Tony waited until he let the door fall shut behind him to immediately turn to Peter. There was a pause between them, and Tony made to grab Peter into a hug, then stopped. His eyes flicked from Peter’s eyes to his cheeks, hair, then back down to his eyes.

"I'm sorry that happened," he finally said. "He shouldn't have done that. You want some water?"

He reached around to grab Peter's water bottle off of his desk and gently placed it in front of him. "Do you need—" He broke off, hesitating.

"I don't want to do anything that you'll feel is me taking advantage of you in this state." He gazed at Peter. "But if you need a hug, Mister Parker—Peter?—I'm here." He set down the Tupperware on the desk gently, still aware of how out of it Peter was.

It wasn’t the first time someone had used their alpha voice on Peter, but— that had been understandable, that had been about discipline, like a professor when he was in college trying to get the room to quiet down. That hadn’t been about taking advantage of him, of forcing him into a certain type of submission.

It was a difficult headspace to pull himself out of, and Tony’s protective display, while out of concern for Peter’s safety more than anything, wasn’t helping. All Peter’s brain was registering was an alpha, his alpha, trying to take care of him.

The omega whined, low in the back of his throat. He got out of his chair, still slightly trembling, as he reached for Tony.

“Alpha,” he hiccuped, pulling at his suit jacket.

Tony froze for the first five seconds that Peter clung to him. He didn’t move, like he was waiting for Peter to realize what he was doing and snap out of it and stumble back.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Peter wrapped himself around Tony, tucking his face in the crook of his neck, nosing at his scent gland. If Peter was in any better of a headspace, this definitely wouldn’t have been happening.

But Tony was right there, had protected him, had made Beck go away. He would happily beat himself up for this and then die of sheer mortification once he came to.

When Peter just kept clinging on to him, Tony slowly, slowly, wrapped his arms around Peter, engulfing him in warmth and protection and—

He craned his neck the slightest bit, letting Peter have better access to his scent gland, then, instinctively, bent his head to nuzzle Peter back. Rumbling deep in his chest, he murmured, “You’re okay. You’re okay. He’s gone and—and I’m here and it’s okay.”

When Peter mewled the slightest bit at his words, his arms tightened, and fingers traced down his spine to rest at the small of his back before moving back up. He rubbed Peter’s back comfortingly, like he’d soothe Morgan after a nightmare, helping Peter forget about the nightmare that Beck was.

Peter nuzzled into Tony’s neck, clinging onto him as tight as possible. Tony just scented so good, like fresh coffee and Old Spice and the aftertaste of gasoline; he scented like alpha, and Peter couldn’t let go.

“You wanna go home, honey?” Tony asked quietly. The pet name— it was so good, coming out of Tony’s mouth.

Peter nodded softly. Home. Home sounded so nice and safe. Home with his alpha. He nudged his nose against Tony’s neck again, melting against him as a hand ran up and down his back.

“I’m sure everyone will understand if you need to take the rest of the day off. Hell, I’ll teach your kids if you need rest.” Tony nudged Peter. “C’mon, talk to me. Jesus, you really are out of it.”

Peter gasped softly at the mention of his students, still a little lucid enough to recognize what Tony was referring to. “Alpha,” he whined, tugging at Tony’s suit jacket. “My pups!”

He was shushed, as Tony kept comforting him, promising his students would be just fine. Peter settled again, clearly trusting whatever came out of Tony’s mouth in his current state.

It was just so, so warm, and safe and protected. Peter tugged at Tony again, nuzzling against his scent gland until— until he purred, soft and sweet, against Tony’s neck.

Tony froze at the noise that Peter let out.

A purring omega meant a safe, happy omega. Omega who wanted to please. Omega who wanted to stay as close as possible to their alpha.

And Peter. Was. Purring.

Next to Tony.

Tony was very, very still for a few moments, before he cupped the back of his head tenderly, cradling him, and he couldn't help but breathe, "You have no idea how badly I want you."

At those words, Peter purred again, making Tony let out yet another shocked noise. Then, tugging gently, he murmured, "C'mon, I'll take you home."

Peter leaned into his touch, purring as he followed him out of the classroom. He tried to cling onto Tony as much as he could, latching himself around Tony’s arm as they headed towards the parking lot.

And then Peter spotted Steve returning from his lunch, coming back into the school through the lot. He lifted a hand to wave at Peter, then raised his eyebrows when he saw Peter walking— no, leaning against Tony.

Peter gasped softly, tugging Tony to a stop. “Stevie can watch my pups!” he exclaimed, padding over to the other teacher.

Steve clearly took note of his current state, the sated and dopey look on his face with his doe eyes blown wide, and Tony at his side, and oh— oh.

“Hi, Peter,” he said with a little nod, still clearly trying to process what was happening.

“Steve!” Peter beamed. “‘M’going home, you have to watch my pups... please?”

“Yeah? Your alpha’s taking you home?” Steve teased, a gleeful, knowing glint in his eyes. Peter, true to his delirious state, happily nodded, with a soft “Mhm!”

“I’ll watch your students and tell the front office, don’t worry. Go home and get some rest, okay?” Steve said, urging Peter back over towards Tony with a gleeful look in his eyes.

Peter turned back as Tony led him to the car to yell, “Bye bye!”

Tony managed to coax Peter to tell him his address, and he punched it into Google Maps before pulling out of the parking lot. Soft, classical music floated through the space between them and Tony raised the volume the slightest bit when he saw Peter preening.

"You should file a report," he said absentmindedly as he drove, despite how unresponsive Peter was, minus the purring—which still hadn't stopped.

Peter just mumbled something incoherently.

"Yeah, okay." Tony snorted, and a smile tugged at his lips as he followed the directions on his phone. "I go to drop off a lunch and in return I get a sweet omega? Yeah, I guess I'm alright with that."

He glanced at Peter playfully at the red light. "You need anything else besides going home, sweet thing?"

He shook his head and tried to reach for Tony again. Peter didn’t need anything, just his alpha and his pups. His purring didn’t slow until he almost dozed off in his seat, the car reeking of honeysuckle and oranges, as Peter scented warmsafehappy.

By the time Tony pulled up in front of Peter’s building, Peter looked like he was relaxed enough to fall asleep there and then. He blinked up briefly at Tony, catching him staring. The alpha blinked before shaking his head sharply.

“I’m here to drop you off,” Tony told Peter, but it sounded like he was telling himself that more than he was telling Peter. “C’mon, out.”

He slipped out of the driver’s seat and made his way around to Peter’s side to open the car door and unbuckle his seatbelt for him. When he leaned over, he felt Peter’s warm breath on his neck and he stilled for a few moments before he repeated, “We’re home, c’mon, I drove you over here to drop you off, remember?” He let his arm wrap around Peter’s shoulders, guiding him towards the door.

Peter was so close to nodding off he barely registered what Tony was saying until he was out of the car. Tony had taken his lanyard from him to get his keys.

He didn’t live that high up in his building, thankfully, because with the state he was in, too many stairs definitely weren’t happening. His apartment number was scrawled in Sharpie onto the head of his key, and getting up to the third floor wasn’t too much of a hassle.

“Let me open the door for you,” Tony murmured, taking the keys from Peter’s hand. “You just stay there, just like that.” He let a hand press against the small of his back comfortingly as he twisted the key, the jingling noise ringing out.

Tony opened the door, then smiled at Peter, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There you go. Inside, okay?” Then, he stilled, clearly unsure about what to do next, whether he should just drive off or come in with Peter.

After a moment of hesitation, he added, “I’m gonna take care of that guy. Don’t waste time worrying about him; I’m gonna take care of it. Okay?”

In any other instance, Peter would’ve told him to eat shit for speaking so condescendingly to him, like he was a child who couldn’t handle what was thrown at him. But right now? All Peter did was nod.

“Bye,” Tony said, but he didn’t move from where he was standing, just gazing at Peter.

Peter shook his head, reaching for him again. “Inside, alpha,” he mumbled, trying to tug Tony inside his apartment. “We’re home,” he insisted, not understanding what Tony meant by ‘bye’— they were home now.

Peter tugged on Tony’s shirt, but he wasn't strong enough to actually drag him in; it was more like Tony was indulging him.

"You're home," Tony tried, but it didn't work. Nothing worked.

Eventually, Tony gave in and just stepped inside, though the tense expression on his face showed that it felt wrong. But Peter preened, pleased.

"Nothing sketchy," Tony warned him, closing the door and locking it. "I'll—I'll hug you if you want, but that's it, okay?"

Peter pulled insistently, and Tony chuckled, "Alright, alright, where do you want me? You want—uh, okay, how does some water and fruit sound, pipsqueak?"

Peter led him over to his couch, gently pushing him so he’d sit. He immediately sank to his knees, mumbling, “No shoes,” under his breath, as he pulled Tony’s off.

His instincts were telling him to serve, to take care of his alpha, be so good to him the way Tony had protected him— he yearned to be a good omega, all for his alpha.

Peter kicked off his own green flats. He peered up at Tony through his lashes, tugging gently on his pant leg. “Alpha,” he whined, “sit with you?”

Tony nodded.

Once he got permission, Peter hopped up on the couch, laying across Tony’s lap. Peter tucked his head in the crook of his neck, once again nosing at his scent gland, taking comfort in just laying there.

And then— Peter couldn’t help himself, leaning up to rub against Tony’s neck, scenting him. The smells of citrus and coffee started to blend with time, filling Peter’s apartment in a thick, almost suffocating haze. Peter stayed just like that, occasionally mumbling something incoherent to Tony, until he fully dozed off in his lap.

______

Tony was very, very still for the next few seconds after Peter fell asleep. And then that turned into minutes. And then hours.

And Peter didn't move an inch.

Eventually, when the sun began to set, Tony gently, carefully, picked Peter up and set him down on the couch alone. He would rather carry him up to his room, but he wasn't sure if—if that was crossing a line. Well, another line.

He tip-toed to the kitchen, poured a glass of cold water for Peter, and then plated some fruit that he found in the fridge, and set it down on the table next to the couch. Then, against his better judgement, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over Peter so that he could keep it, could use it if he needed to, could do whatever he wanted to.

Looking down at Peter, Tony realized that he didn't want to leave.

He wanted to—to stay with Peter here, just like this, enjoying the picture-perfect omega, taking in every inch of him, breathing in his sweet, sweet scent, scenting him, claiming him. But that wasn't his right.

And he wasn't going to do that when Peter couldn't think straight.

He lingered hesitantly for a few minutes, and then finally, regretfully, left the apartment.

It wasn't like Peter would've welcomed his presence when he woke up from his daze anyway.

As he slipped into his car, Tony realized that Morgan would still be waiting at school. Goddammit. He cursed under his breath as he pulled out and headed back onto the road. Traffic was terrible as always, but Tony still made it there, and was relieved to find that the lights in the classroom were still on.

Locking the car, he hastily headed for the door and opened it right away unthinkingly. Morgan was probably alone, or maybe waiting in the office, supervised, or—

Or maybe she was sitting with the same blond teacher that Peter had mumbled to before letting Tony drag him away, reading a book.

Tony froze in his tracks.

Peter’s friend looked up and blinked.

Morgan looked up and shouted, "Daddy!" before dropping the book and running over to him.

Tony let her jump into his arms and he murmured, "Hi, honey. I'm sorry I was so late; Daddy got a bit busy."

"Daddy's always busy," Morgan said flippantly, and Tony winced. Morgan didn't seem to notice, though, because she kept rambling. "Mister Rogers and I were readin'! He's a good reader, but not as good as Mister Parker, 'cause Mister Parker's the bestest, sorry, Mister Rogers."

"It’s okay Morgan. I’m Steve,” he said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for Tony to shake.

Tony shifted Morgan's weight onto one arm and he shook it. "Tony Stark," he said politely. "I'm sorry about making you wait, Mister Rogers, I got caught up with some personal matters." Then he realized how weird that sounded, and the kind of image that it produced without context, and he hastily amended, "Nothing— nothing bad, just— necessary."

Morgan's arms tightened around his neck, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Before Steve could say anything, though, she mumbled, "You smell like Mister Parker, Daddy."

Tony and Steve both froze. Tony went red in the face and he patted Morgan's back firmly, maybe a bit more than he needed to.

"Morgan, honey," he said, sounding strained. "Why don't you go get your bag so we can leave and let Mister Rogers go home, okay?"

"'kay," she agreed easily, scampering off when Tony set her down.

"I didn't do anything weird," Tony said immediately the moment she was out of earshot.

"I know."

"I didn't force him to do anything either."

"I know."

"I was going to drop him off and come straight back, but he begged me to come in and I couldn't leave him when he was—"

"Mister Stark! I know!" Steve laughed.

"Tony," Tony corrected.

"Steve," Steve countered.

"Alright, Steve." Tony ran a hand down across his face. "Well, is there anything I can do to make it up to you for the wait? I really do apologize, I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, no, it's nothing." Steve waved a hand dismissively. "Miss Morgan is a delight, as always. An absolute treasure, Tony. You should be delighted to have a pup like her."

Tony watched her trying to shove her Tupperware into her bag and failing miserably. "I am," he said fondly. "Still—"

"As long as Peter is taken care of and he's safe, there's nothing more I need," Steve assured before Tony could continue. "Really."

Tony hesitated, and then reluctantly said, "Okay, alright. Well, I'm not sure how he'll react when he wakes up, but— help him, will you?" He flushed again and uncomfortably tucked his hands into his pockets. "Not that it's my job to take care of him, it's just—"

"Tony, I got it," Steve assured, laughing. "It's normal to feel protective."

Is it? Tony huffed a small laugh.

"Daddy, can we get McDonald's?" Morgan blinked up at him hopefully.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, Daddy owes you like, ten Happy Meals."

"Ten Happy Meals!" Morgan cheered.

"Just one tonight, though!" Tony amended hastily. Shaking his head, he made his goodbyes with Steve, who smiled and waved him off, and Tony took Morgan to the car.

The car ride to McDonald's was silent, until Morgan broke it by asking, "Daddy? Why do you smell like Mister Parker?"

Tony's hands tightened on the wheel. He hesitated, wondering what to say, wondering what was the right thing to say. Eventually, he settled for, "Mister Parker needed some help with something, and Daddy helped him out. You know why that's good, honey?"

"'cause helpin' people who need help is good," Morgan mumbled. "But we gotta be careful and make sure 's them really wanting help, not just us thinkin' they need help."

Tony glanced at her through the rearview mirror. That was definitely something Peter had taught her. Forcing a smile onto his face, he said, "Yeah, honey. You're a smartie, learning from the smartest out there."

Morgan grinned back, kicking her feet happily.

______

Peter’s alarm woke him up the next morning, and he nearly rolled off his couch from utter shock. He scrambled for his phone on the coffee table, shutting off the alarm, before unlocking his phone to go through his emails.

That was so weird, maybe he had fallen asleep after working on his student reflections, or had he— no. Oh, fuck.

Peter groaned, flooded with recollections of what had happened. He smashed his face into the cushion of his couch a few times, hoping maybe he’d hit himself hard enough to forget again. His apartment smelled strongly of citrus and coffee, hints of motor oil and spice still clinging to his couch and— and the jacket, laying over him.

That was it. Peter wanted to die.

He tossed the jacket to the side as if it had burned him, refusing to even look at it. He couldn’t believe— Tony had seen him like that, had let him—

Peter was sure he was just going to die of mortification. It would kill him. He’d scented a random alpha, the parent of one of his students.

The situation ate at him the whole morning as he got ready, slipping on a yellow dress covered in flowers, with a ruffled collar, and a pink and green knit sweater vest.

He left the jacket at home, deciding avoiding Tony altogether was truly his only way out of this. That could work; Peter only had a few weeks left of school, he could totally just avoid his favorite student’s alpha until then.

When he stepped into the teacher’s lounge, ready to mull over his lifelong embarrassment over a mug of watery coffee, the first thing Steve said to him was: “You absolutely reek.”

“Gee, thanks,” Peter deadpanned, dumping an absurd amount of sugar into his coffee. “I promise I showered, oma.”

“So— your alpha, huh?” Steve teased, as Peter sat down next to him and let out a loud groan.

“I think I’m going to change my name and move to Canada. It was nice knowing you,” Peter mumbled.

__________

Steve didn’t let him live it down for the rest of the week. Meanwhile, Peter did everything in his power to absolutely avoid Tony. The jacket was still draped over the arm of his couch, and Peter always ignored the stupid part of him that wanted to wear it and curl up in it when he was home.

His saving grace the next week was a Parent Teacher Association meeting. He knew that Tony, while having changed a lot of his behavior to be around more for Morgan, still wouldn’t be caught dead at a PTA meeting. Peter had taken a seat up front, right next to Steve, although he was more preoccupied trying to finish his student reflections than with the actual meeting.

“And before we continue, I wanted to address some of the private complaints that were received over the last two weeks— by letting you all know that Mister Quentin Beck is currently on unpaid administrative leave,” one of the administrators said, rather tersely.

Now that— that caught Peter’s attention, as he looked over at Steve, who seemed equally confused, but sort of pleased. “What the hell happened?” Peter mouthed.

Steve just shrugged.

Peter definitely hadn’t placed a complaint, because, well— what Beck did wasn’t technically illegal. It had made Peter uncomfortable, but people constantly pinned that on omegas being “overly emotional creatures.” Anything he could’ve said about Beck would’ve either been written off or not taken seriously.

The whispers about that particular statement eventually dissipated, as the parents moved on to discussing end-of-year plans for the kids. A beta woman was in the middle of speaking, something about the eighth grade graduation, when she was interrupted by the metal doors of the auditorium opening and slamming shut.

Peter turned, out of sheer curiosity, before he whipped right back around. “Oh my god,” he mumbled, trying to sink low in his seat. Steve turned around too, the big idiot he was, and when he realized what was up, he tried his hardest to stifle a laugh.

Tony strode in confidently, like he wasn't late and interrupting the PTA, and he just plopped down to sit and listen like nothing was wrong.

There was a small pause in conversation, but Tony either didn't notice or didn't care—probably both—before the talking picked back up.

Despite Peter's efforts to avoid all eye contact, Tony still managed to catch his eye a few times, and each time, Peter grew stiffer and stiffer. Again, Tony either didn't notice or care. Or both. Most likely both.

Tony didn't say a single word during the meeting, just let his eyes flit over the people and the refreshments table in the back of the room before focusing on the speaker, looking satisfied.

Eventually, when the meeting ended and people began to file out or help themselves to food and drinks, Peter watched as Tony stood up and made his way over to him. Peter very hastily gathered his things. He tried to make a break for it, maybe even snag a cookie on his way out, but Tony was too fast.

His lips quirked into an amused, cocky smirk when Peter mumbled, "Hide me, Steve," and Steve did the exact opposite by choosing to ogle Bucky by the door instead.

Steve was the worst friend in all of history, Peter was absolutely sure of it. He was just going to throw him to the wolves like that and let him publicly die of mortification, and Peter swore to himself to never ever forgive him.

"Mister Parker," Tony greeted unashamedly, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Your outfit of the day is stunning. Gimme a twirl." He laughed when Peter flushed, not just because he was embarrassed but— Tony was just teasing him.

Of course that was what it had been, just one big joke at Peter’s expense because he had been too out of it to be more careful with his behavior. No matter how nice they tried to seem, all alphas really were the same.

Tony carried on like he didn’t even notice the pained expression on Peter’s face. "How are the refreshments? I got them from a place I thought you'd like, but..." He shrugged.

Then, he nodded at Steve. "Steve."

"Tony." Steve's lips twitched.

Tony turned back to Peter. "So, how're you feeling?"

Peter huffed, readjusting the straps of his bag and clutching his binder against his chest. He had more important things to do than let Tony publicly tease him for something that had been completely out of his control.

“M’fine. Excuse me,” he said, more to Steve than anyone else. Peter pushed past Tony, casting a forlorn look at the refreshments table. He just wanted a cookie, goddamnit.

“Peter,” Tony called hastily, making everyone stare. “I mean— Mister Parker!”

He followed Peter out of the room and grabbed his shoulder to catch a hold of him. When Peter whirled around, face tight, Tony yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. “I’m sorry.” He stared open-mouthed. “That was—that wasn’t appropriate, I just—“

Peter watched as he ran a hand down his face. “Just—stay and enjoy the refreshments or something. Morgan told me all of your favorites and I made sure to get them and I can’t stand the idea of someone else eating everything that was for you and—“

He broke off. Then, taking in Peter’s expression, he said slowly, “I said something wrong, didn’t I? I upset you? Can you at least tell me what it is so that I can—” He gestured helplessly at the space between them “—fix it? Make it better?”

What, just like that night? Peter scoffed lightly— had Tony done anything wrong? As if everything that happened last week hadn’t been wrong.

Peter should’ve listened to Steve from the start; he had no business getting involved in how an alpha chose to bring up his pup. It wasn’t Peter’s business, it wasn’t his family. He had no claim over Tony or Morgan and the whole situation was just so stupid he couldn’t help being upset.

“What, so you can buy me something else and make the problem go away?” Peter spat. Regret immediately ran through him as he saw how Tony recoiled at his words.

He thought about that stupid check from a few months ago, that he’d folded up and shoved in— in his binder.

“I’ll be more than happy to fund the trip for you.”

“And if there's anything you need, for your classroom, or just, the whole school, you can tell me, and I'll get it for you—”

And Peter realized—

“I can’t stand the idea of someone else eating everything that was for you and—”

You, you, you. It had never been about Tony being a better parent, or making it up to Morgan, or realizing just how badly he had fucked up as a parent. It was about Peter.

It was about Tony’s stupid ego, showing off his money and his quick fixes and his power to get back at Peter for embarrassing him that night when he’d yelled at him.

And Peter— Peter was an idiot. He had let Tony into his life and his apartment and onto his couch and had scented him, acting like the alpha really wanted him.

Peter blanched, blinking back a few tears. He did what he should’ve done months ago, ripping open his binder and pulling out the folded up check. “I don’t— I don’t want your pity,” he said, shoving the check at Tony’s chest.

Tony gaped when Peter shoved the check at his chest, and he didn't react fast enough to catch it. It fluttered to the floor, a fuckton of money just lying there, but Peter couldn't care less.

"Peter!" Tony grabbed Peter's arm before he could rush away, and this time, he didn't let go. "You're not—that's not my pity!" He gave an exasperated huff. "Please, will you just listen to me? For once?"

He held Peter's gaze, unwilling to back down, and Peter tugged his arm out of his grip. They both paused, tense, and Tony's gaze flickered over Peter's face, then his chest, then his chin, and back to his eyes, then lips, and then back up. For a split second, he swayed forwards, like— like he was—

But he didn't.

Instead, Tony said softly, "I don't want to hurt you. So will you just—" He stopped again, massaging his forehead fiercely, and he took a quick glance around the dark school, void of students, like it was just them. "If you don't want me to—buy you anything," he started again slowly, painfully, "that's okay. But stop acting like— this isn't about me, it's about you!" He gazed at Peter pleadingly, like he was begging him to understand.

Something dawned on Peter, eyes going a bit wide as he stared Tony down.

“Beck— Beck getting put on leave. Tell me right now that it wasn't because of you. Tell me you didn’t go to my boss and tell him what happened.”

Tony’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I told you I’d handle him.”

“Tony— what the fuck, why—” Peter swallowed through impending tears, glancing around at the dimly light hallway helplessly. He begged something to crawl out of linoleum darkness and save him. “I never asked you to do that. I never asked you to get involved.”

“You seemed pretty willing to let me help when you all but threw yourself at me in your classroom,” Tony snapped, frustration slipping from his features when he noticed Peter take a step back. He looked at Peter incredulously, “What, were you just gonna let him get away with doing that to you?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Report him, file a complaint, say anything! I wasn’t just— just going to let him stick around after doing that!”

I. That was all that seemed to come out of Tony’s mouth.

“It’s not about you! You shouldn’t have— You aren’t my alpha, Tony!”

Tony scoffed, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Oh, believe me, I’m well aware, because if I was, you definitely wouldn’t be acting like—” He cut himself off, realizing what he’d said, and how quickly anger bloomed on Peter’s face.

Peter jerked back like he’d just been slapped, and he hissed incredulously, “Excuse me?”

He stilted when Tony reached out and grabbed his upper arm. “Wait, Peter, shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Yeah, Tony definitely hadn’t meant to make it sound like Peter was just some— some emotional, out of control omega. An omega desperate and in need of an alpha’s steady hand, too wild to be worth more than the limits of his designation.

And Peter— Peter had gotten too attached, too involved, wrapped up in a family that wasn’t his. And it was so, so easy, to fall for some fake reality where it could’ve been, easy for Peter to forget who he was dealing with.

Tony Stark—alpha, genius, playboy, billionaire.

It was easy when he knew Tony in his worn-in Levi’s and old rock tees. When he found out that Tony scented just like that coffee the stupid catering company brought every Tuesday, and gasoline, and warm old spice, just like Morgan. And he looked at Morgan like she was his entire world, because this had always been about proving Peter wrong.

And Tony— Tony had confirmed it. This was about proving to Peter he was a good parent without actually doing any of the heavy lifting. This was about control. This was an ego boost, and every alarm was blaring in Peter’s head to remind him that he did not fit.

“Acting like what, huh?” He hissed. “This— this is the whole problem! This wasn’t— it isn’t supposed to be about you or me! This,” Peter said, motioning between the two of them, “was about Morgan.”

He exhaled sharply, yanking his arm fully out of Tony’s grip, attempting to resettle his things in his arms. “And maybe— it should stay that way. You can barely make time for her, you—”

Peter remembered Tony’s condescending remarks, his shock at how smart his wonderful little girl is. “You barely even know her, so you have better things to do than—”

Peter cut himself off, gnawing at his bottom lip, thinking about how Tony had— had held him, kept him down so far in his head that he felt comfortable enough to scent him, had wrapped him in his jacket, in that familiar thick haze of warmth and coffee and gasoline, had taken care of him and protected him and provided for him.

Tony wasn’t a perfect parent, he was so far from it that it wasn’t even funny. But Tony was the closest thing to the perfect alpha Peter had ever met, and now he understood why Morgan seemed to have such an easy time forgiving him for just about everything.

So Peter had to end— whatever this was.

He swallowed thickly, glancing up at Tony.

“Chasing after me isn’t going to make you any less of a shitty father.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock, looking like he’d just been slapped across the face. He stared like he couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Peter's mouth, like he was angry, like he was hurt. When he closed his mouth, jaw tensing, there was a small pause between them.

Then, Tony pointed at Peter, finger jabbing at his chest, and he said lowly, voice grating from emotions, "I bet that makes you feel real good about yourself, huh?" He stared at Peter, jaw muscles still working, and Peter didn't say anything.

He let his hand drop. "Does it make you happy to tell me all of the bad things I am? Does it make you happy to make me the one who always fucks up? To make me a bad father? A bad alpha? Don't go acting like you're—like you're better, Mister Parker, because you're not." For the first time, his voice was cold, face stony.

Even when he'd been throwing jabs and teasing remarks at Peter, trying to get a rise out of him, it had never been like... this. Peter just stared as he continued.

"Well, maybe you should take a good look at yourself." Tony shoved his hands into his pockets. "Maybe you should get your thick head out of your ass and think for once, instead of throwing accusations at everyone. Stop pretending like all of the problems you have are caused by other people when it's you. It's your problem, so you can deal with it."

Tony bent down, swiped the check into his hands, and slapped it into Peter's hand. "Keep it. A parting gift, Mister Parker. Clearly it's me pitying you, but don't worry, I'll stop that too. Maybe I'll work on being a better father instead of chasing after you." He sneered, and then left, leaving Peter standing there alone with a slip of paper in his hands.

______

Peter didn’t see Tony after that— not really, not like before their argument.

He saw him in passing, when Tony picked up Morgan, but it lacked the casual, comfortable camaraderie that used to be there.

The school year was coming to an end, and Peter tried to focus on finishing his student reflections rather than on what had happened. Writing twenty two reflections on each one of his students had been less of a hardship, but he found it difficult to get down on paper how he’d come to feel about his pups.

There was about a week of school left when final parent-teacher conferences came around. Peter had lined up chairs on the wall outside his classroom, dressed up in his best—a white button up with see-through, polka dot puff sleeves, under an orange floral dress, with his dinosaur earrings.

Parents all arrived at different times, some with their pups and some without, and part of Peter was convinced Tony wouldn’t show up at all.

“Mrs. Keener?” he called out, peeking into the hallway. The beta shot up from her seat, urging along Abbie and her other pup, Harley. Peter let them into his classroom, before shutting the door behind them.

He handed Mrs. Keener his reflection on Abbie, folded up and sealed in an envelope, before rattling off a more general version of what he had written. Abbie was a wonderful little girl—perceptive and charismatic and with the proper environment, she would continue to grow up to be a wonderful alpha.

Mrs. Keener looked pleasantly surprised, and they chatted for another 5 minutes or so, before Peter had to move on. He waved the three goodbye, leaning down to give Abbie a hug upon her request. “Have a nice day,” he called out.

Peter peeked into the hallway again, only to find it empty. It was a bit late. Mrs. Keener was usually one of his later parents as she had to work during the day. He turned to go back and wait in his room, when he heard someone coming down the hall.

Tony.

Tony was dressed as formally and neatly as always, in a crisp suit with a tie, his jacket unbuttoned. He stopped a few feet away, appraising Peter, and took off the sunglasses that he was wearing for absolutely no reason considering it was late and indoors.

He lifted an arm to check his watch, then mused, "Right on time, aren't I?" Letting his arm drop back down, he strode forwards and closed the distance between them, walking right into the classroom without even being invited, making Peter exhale sharply.

Tony was actually incredibly late, but Peter didn’t comment on it.

Tony paused, taking in the sight of the classroom now, like he hadn't been here before. It was as neatly organized as always and full of colors. Tony pointed at the seat.

"This is where I sit, isn't it?" He sat with a flourish. "I mean, not that someone like me would know, obviously. It's my first time at a parent-teacher conference; I'm just a shitty parent of an amazing daughter who's going to grow into an amazing alpha. So, let's hear it. What do you have for me?"

He looked at Peter, who still hadn't moved, and raised an eyebrow. "Nothing to say about your favorite student? That's unprofessional."

Of course Tony had come to rub the sting of their argument in Peter’s face.

He tried to stay professional, because this entire issue was a product of him doing the absolute opposite of that. Peter took his seat behind his desk, opening up the top drawer to pull out an envelope with Morgan’s name scrawled on it.

“Since this is your first time here, and if you’re done being an asshole, you should know that I don’t give graded assignments in my class. So there is no real ‘report card’ to give back. I write reflections on my time with each of my students, and this is Morgan’s,” he said calmly, handing the envelope to Tony.

Peter bit back any more insults he could spit, taking a deep breath before saying, “Morgan is— when I first met her... she was shy, she didn’t make friends easily.” She was lonely, but Peter left that part out.

“But over the last few months—” ever since the first time I yelled at you “—she has grown into such a bright, talkative, smart pup. She’s probably the most special, brilliant little girl I could’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching.” Peter clasped his hands together, with a light shrug. “And yes, you have an amazing daughter, who’s going to grow into an amazing alpha.” And I see where she gets it from, he left out, because that would be getting too involved, it would be unprofessional.

“I see." Tony smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, Mister Parker, thank you for the stellar review and for telling me things that I already knew. This was very helpful to my future as a parent and I look forward to continuing to sit here and listen to you tell me things that I already know and am aware of."

He placed the envelope on the table carelessly and folded his hands over his lap.

"You know, I think it's kind of funny that you ask me whether I'm done being an asshole, because I'm never done, am I?" And now his fingers were drumming over his knee, a steady rhythm that was building up in the space between them.

"I mean, I'm the bad guy here. I'm the one who made you cry. I'm the one who saved you from that dickhead who used his voice on you, and I clearly forced you to let me take you home so that you could sleep on my lap like a good omega. That's all on me, I know it is. So you don't have to ask me whether I'm done being an asshole, because I'm never done, Mister Parker."

He stood up abruptly, making the chair screech in the icy silence. Wandering over to the wall where there were clumsy, colorful drawings stuck on the wall, he found Morgan's—a drawing of her and Peter, standing side by side with a flower as big as their bodies in their hands. "She's gonna be an artist when she grows up," he remarked dryly.

Turning back around, Tony let his weight lean back against the shelf. "I think this is really our last chance to just, oh, you know. Work things out." He waved a hand dismissively in the air.

"So, lemme hear it, Mister Parker. What do you really think of me—I mean, Morgan?" His jaw tensed as he strode closer. Peter didn’t flinch or shy away as Tony stepped towards him, closer and closer until they were face to face, the tension weighing heavy in the air between them.

Tony appraised him, then said, "Or do you miss me as much as you miss her when she runs out of your arms to come into mine?"

Peter hadn’t realized, not until now, how utterly exhausting it was to keep pretending and searching for reasons to be mad at Tony for doing nothing other than being good to him. The criticisms of his parenting, at first, they had been warranted, but— but now Peter knew him, well enough to know there was little Tony cared about outside of his pup.

He was just— he was just bad at showing it, bad at communicating it effectively. He wasn’t a shitty parent—god, Peter couldn’t believe he’d said that—he was just a busy parent.

Tony was so close Peter could scent him, watching the anger seep out of his expression, scenting of impatience and desperation and annoyance and hope. And Tony— Tony had been chasing him the entire time. Peter had just been too stupid to take him seriously, see that he wasn’t like all the other alphas Peter had built up in his head.

“I—” he stammered, racking his brain for words, for everything he should’ve said instead of being a defensive idiot, because the last person who would ever tease him or look down on him for his designation was Tony.

“You what?” Tony’s eyes bore into him, like they could see everything, know everything, and it was just— he didn’t know how to— “You what?” Tony pressed again. “C’mon, Peter, out with it, you what?”

“I— I don’t hate your guts!” Peter burst out. “I don’t hate you! Is that enough for you? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Tony stared, mouth hanging open, and then before Peter could say anything else, he surged forward and kissed Peter, kissed him unlike the first time he'd hesitated, and let Peter's entire world narrow down to Tony. He kissed him, wet and possessive, heat furling in his gut, swallowing Peter’s gasps and noises of surprise and desperation and need. His tongue slipped into Peter's mouth, exploring every inch of him, tasting, and his hands gripped tight around Peter’s waist, fisting at his dress.

Peter’s hands shot up to grip onto the lapels of Tony’s suit jacket, mewling softly as Tony’s tongue slipped into his mouth and tugged at his lower lip. Peter gasped softly as Tony kissed him again, then coaxed Peter's head to tilt back to dust small kisses on his jawline, following it to his earlobe, which he bit before shoving his face in the crook of Peter's neck. It was a closeness and an intimacy Peter had missed so badly since that night.

"You don't hate me," Tony breathed.

“Nonono,” Peter insisted, breath hitching as Tony scraped his teeth over his scent gland, and he was tempted, so tempted to let Tony— “I don’t, I can’t, even when you are an asshole,” he exhaled, laughing breathlessly.

Tony’s breath hitched in his chest and he dragged his tongue against Peter’s neck, letting him feel, then nipped teasingly at his jaw. “I am an asshole,” he agreed. “But you like that, don’t you? Can’t get enough of me, Mister Parker?”

Tony’s hands wandered desperately over Peter, dropping down to his waist a bit tentatively, and his eyes flicked up to Peter’s. They both stuttered, still awkward, unsure, because for all his talk, their touches were still brief, uncertain, trying to navigate the sudden shift of their dynamic. And then Tony pulled him into a kiss again.

He let out a growl from the back of his throat and his hand snaked up to tangle and twist in Peter’s hair. He pulled his head back, and Peter let him, both of them dizzy with want, and Tony breathed, “You have no idea how much I want you.”

Tony had said that before— when Peter had been so under he could barely think straight. He hiccuped softly, realizing Tony had really been chasing him, wanting him, the entire time.

Tony let his other hand slip up to his chin, gripping, and he shook Peter’s head the slightest bit to grab his attention. “I can show you, if you let me.”

Peter’s eyelashes fluttered at the words, and Tony waited, but when no response came, he smirked. “C’mon, baby,” he crooned in a low sing-song voice. “Don’t go stupid on me already.”

Peter whined at the word stupid, because he wasn’t, he couldn’t help it. Peter’s dinosaur earrings didn’t exactly scream sex appeal, and he’d never—with an alpha— especially not one he liked as much as Tony.

“The— the door, I didn’t lock it,” he stammered when Tony raised his eyebrows, waiting. Regardless of whatever Tony was insinuating they should do, Peter was still at school, at his job.

“Then fucking lock it,” Tony bit back, nipping at his jaw again before his hands flew down to Peter’s hips, gripping hard and spinning him around to push him towards the door.

Peter stumbled towards the door, locking it and, just for good measure, shifting the little blinds in the door window, so no one could see what they were doing, what they would be doing.

He could not believe this was happening while he was technically at work. He turned back around to see Tony palming his obvious erection through his slacks, and he didn’t lift away even when Peter returned. He made his way back over, letting Tony reach for him, gasping softly as he was pulled into another kiss.

“Locked?” Tony murmured, pulling Peter in close and making him nod dazedly. “Good.”

He grinned at the gasp that escaped Peter's mouth, absolutely delighted, and pulled him in for another kiss, a growl rumbling in his throat possessively. He manhandled Peter over to his desk quickly, roughly, eager to make things feel good, eager to make it just— happen.

"You have," he panted, "no fucking idea how much I want you, Mister Parker."

He pressed flush against Peter purposely, letting him feel, placing his arms down on the desk on both sides of him so he could crowd him, surround his entire world with him and only him. "Tell me what you want," Tony demanded breathlessly, "so I can give you everything you ask me for and more."

His hips hitched forward, unable to help himself, the heavy scent of arousal and possessiveness wafting through the air until it practically made Peter feel lightheaded.

"Let me hear it, c'mon."

Fuck, if that wasn’t enough to get Peter slick between the legs. He hopped up on his desk, pushing several things out of the way before letting his thighs fall open. He grabbed Tony by the tie, tugging him forward between his thighs.

He whined softly as Tony’s hips hitched forward, lolling his head back to bare his neck a little.

“Knot me, Tony, please fuck me,” he begged, overwhelmed with the scent of wantneedmore clouding the rational part of his brain telling him not to have sex on his desk at work.

“Already?” Tony made a mockingly surprised noise in the back of his throat, like he hadn’t been wanting to hear those exact words, laughing when Peter whined. He rumbled deep in his chest—probably going right to his ego, to have Peter beg like that—and nipped at Peter’s jaw.

A hand hovering over the side of his neck, thumb brushing over a vein, Tony purred, “I’ll give you that, baby. Gonna give you what you need.”

He swiveled Peter around so that he was facing away from him, then pressed flush against his ass, grinding roughly, letting him feel it. “Fuck,” Tony breathed. “I can smell it, you know—you really do want this. Filthy fuckin’ thing.” He slid a hand up Peter’s side, teasing, then suddenly pulled back, leaving Peter gasping in surprise and need.

“Get yourself out of those clothes,” Tony snapped breathlessly, his own hands flying up to his zipper, “before I rip them off of you and ruin them.”

But— But Peter was already having sex in the room that he taught children in; he couldn’t live with himself if he fully undressed in his own classroom. Plus, they most likely didn’t have time for that.

So he rucked up the hem of his dress, holding up the material around his waist. He was already slick between the legs, cock straining against the front of his tight briefs.

“Shut up and get inside me already, you asshole,” he whined. Part of him was absolutely terrified at the prospect of literally anybody he worked with finding out he had sex at work, but the other, stupid, part of him was horrifically turned on by the same exact scenario.

"Yeah, okay," Tony growled, roughly manhandling him back into position again, bending him over the desk until his chest pressed flush against the surface, and Peter followed easily. "Fuckin' asking for it, baby, been asking for it since the beginning, I know— no, no, don't shake your head at me, 's true."

His fingers flew down to the zip of his pants. "Ask for whatever you want, and you'll get it. Starting now." And he spread Peter's cheeks wide apart with his thumbs, then groaned.

"Fuck, baby, look at'chu—you're practically dripping for me, aren't you? You need alpha's knot in you? Hm?" he crooned.

“Yesyes,” Peter gasped, pushing back into his touch. A high-pitched whine escaped his throat when he felt two of Tony’s fingers run over his hole, dragging them through the shiny slick and wetting the cleft of his ass. “Please,” he begged. “God, just— please, please.”

He let out a cry when he felt Tony’s finger easily slip in, followed by another, brusquely scissoring him open until wet squelching noises filled up the room. “Alpha,” Peter practically sobbed. Everything hurt, he needed it so badly.

“You sound so fucking needy,” Tony growled. Letting the head of his cock nudge at Peter's hole, he swallowed wetly, the sound seemingly echoing in the otherwise empty classroom, and he pushed in the slightest bit. Peter mewled and scrabbled at the desk. He groaned at the stretch, the way the drag of Tony’s cock burned as he pushed inside. It was the best type of pain, aching deep in Peter’s gut as he shakily inhaled, trying to relax and adjust to the intrusion.

Tony laughed, a breathless, rough laugh, and he leaned closer to press a kiss to Peter's shoulder. He sank in the slightest bit more, breaths coming in ragged huffs, and he muttered again, "So fuckin' needy. Bet I could just bend you over anytime and you'd flip your dress up again, wouldn't you? You'd do that for alpha's knot, wouldn't you? You need it that badly, huh? Say yes, alpha."

“Yes, alpha!” he hiccuped as Tony sank in deeper, until his pelvis met the meat of Peter’s ass. Tony’s hips hitched forward and he let himself sink in fully, groaning. "You're so—fuck, baby, fuck."

“I don’t— fuck, please—” It knocked Peter’s breath out of his lungs at once as he struggled to adjust, feeling more stretched out than he’d ever been, and the alpha just kept going.

“Fuck, wait, wait, please,” he panted, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Please, you’re— too big, too much—“

"What's wrong, omega-mine?" Tony crooned, and Peter preened at the nickname, at the— the sheer intimacy of such a thing, the way it clawed at his inner omega and made his head spin, slick squirting around Tony’s cock.

Tony pressed flush against Peter, mouthing at the side of his neck. "You said you wanted this, didn't you?"

Peter whined and Tony chuckled against his skin. "Said you wanted this," he purred again. "Said you needed it. Nothing's ever too much for a needy thing like you." His hands flew down to grip Peter's hips, squeezing and gripping as his head fell back, inhaling sharply at the feeling of Peter's hole clenching around him, tight and warm and wet.

For a few minutes, the only sound that filled up the entire room—the classroom— was the wet noise of Tony's hips moving to meet Peter's ass, heavy and rough and good.

He heaved a dry sob as Tony just took and used him, gripping the edge of his desk. Every time he felt close to fully relaxing, welcoming the intrusion, Tony would pull out and slam right back home, leaving Peter breathless.

His own cock was hard and leaking, pre-come sticky against his desk and pelvis. He was tempted to— to move, to rock his hips in time with Tony’s thrusts, deep and languid, but it felt nice to lay there— to be used.

"Feels just right, doesn't it?" Tony growled, snapping his hips up and making Peter squeal. "Feels good?"

“Yeah,” he croaked out, voice cut off in a squeal as Tony slammed against his prostate, the slick sounds of his hips against his ass filling up the room. “Yeah, yeah, alpha— s’good, good, please—“

“I bet it is,” Tony growled back, hips working even faster, enjoying every little squeal he drew out of Peter, relishing in them, basking in the warmth and wetness and intimacy of it all.

And Peter just lay there, letting him use and take and claim him.

“Oh god,” Tony groaned. “Fuck, baby, you— alpha’s gonna— ‘m gonna—” He choked on his next word as his hips stuttered up, nailing Peter’s prostate, and he gasped, “‘m gonna come soon, omega, gonna make you mine, gonna make sure every—fuck— everyone knows you’re mine—“

Peter whined at the prospect— the reality of being Tony’s. There was a familiar burn in his gut, hot and heavy, feeling all the more ready to burst every time his cock dragged slightly against the wood top of his desk.

He wanted to come, he wanted Tony to knot him, he— he wanted Tony to bite him, to dig his canines into his jugular right over where their scents merged into one and take.

But that was— that was even more intimate than the way Tony had cooed so many nicknames, had called Peter his.

So Peter settled for less, but still just enough, as he choked out a moan and reached a hand back to wrap around Tony’s wrists. “Alpha, alpha,” he whined, craning his head to look back at him. “Wanna flip over, wanna see you.”

He ached with the need to feel a hand wrapped around his cock, getting him off, wanting to let Tony hear all of the pretty noises he had to give, see every little change in expression, taking him and claiming him.

“Ohhh, you wanna see me, omega-mine?” Tony crooned, laughing at the words. He snaked a hand up to Peter’s neck, gripping and squeezing, pressing him back down against the desk, holding him there for a few minutes.

And then, finally, he slowed, pulling out and making Peter whine, and he snapped his fingers impatiently. “Flip over then, let’s have it.”

Tony watched with a heavy gaze as Peter scrambled, and once he was in position, he gripped his legs, pulling them over his shoulders, and he growled at the sight before him, the pretty thing lying in front of him, all his.

"Yeah, there you go," Tony hissed between his teeth as he sank in again until he was pressed flush against Peter again, bringing them closer. He ground his hips right up against that sweet spot, making Peter keen.

"Eyes open," he growled when Peter moaned, eyes squeezing shut. He reached out and slapped him lightly on the cheek, effectively getting his attention.

Peter hiccuped, unable to help clenching around Tony’s cock in response. He tried not to squeeze his eyes shut again, flushing red with humiliation as Tony’s eyes scanned over his body with every snap of his hips.

“You’re not going into that nice, fuzzy warm space, not yet,” Tony growled. “I want you here, with me, right now, feeling everything. Keep your eyes on me, sweet omega."

Peter’s eyes fluttered, struggling open, feeling that warm ball of heat burning in his gut. The wet sound of Tony’s cock thrusting into Peter's hole grew louder as he doubled his pace, and finally, he reached out to grip Peter's cock, wrapping a hand around it and squeezing, but not stroking, just— just letting him feel.

"Bet you wanna come," he taunted lowly, not missing a beat as he pounded into Peter's ass. "Bet you need it. Bet you wanna beg me for it, omega."

The heat twisted deep in his gut, clenching tight and slick around Tony. Peter nodded feverishly, breathy little moans falling from his lips. “Knot, alpha— alpha, please,” he hiccuped, squirming and tilting his hips up to get any type of friction from Tony’s hand wrapped around him. “Wan’it— wanna come, please!”

"You want alpha's knot?" Tony crooned again, lips twitching into a mean smile. He let his hand stroke up in one smooth motion, covering the entire head of Peter's cock with his fist, smirking when Peter's hips hitched up in response.

"You need it so badly it makes you dumb, poor thing."

Tony’s hand moved in large, lazy strokes, matching the rhythm of his hips, drawing gasps and whines from Peter's throat. "You don't get to come," Tony breathed, voice raspy, "until I do. Don't want you going even more stupid, omega-mine, alpha's already got so much to deal with."

If Peter was in his right mind he would call Tony an asshole again.

It was mean, practically cruel, but every time Tony called him dumb or stupid or his, Peter couldn’t help but squirm and twitch in his grip.

Everything hurt— Peter’s body and his hole and his cheek still stinging from the slap. But he loved it, feeling so used and owned.

It hurt in an entirely different way, in the best way. The way that flirted with pleasure, shifting and twisting to take up all the space in his head, allowing no thoughts beyond Tony and alpha and pleasure-pain and the beautiful surrender of submission.

Nailing Peter's prostate with each thrust, Tony drew out mewls and whines from Peter’s throat until they filled the air like music, and then Peter was so close, and Tony’s hands were gripping and squeezing, so good and everywhere, and—

The only warning that Peter got was, "Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, fuck—" before Tony slammed home, jostling Peter's entire body on the desk and making his belongings rattle.

Knot swelling up, Tony’s fist languidly pumped his cock, and Peter couldn’t help but choke out a gasp when the knot swelled, locking them together. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, to ask his alpha for permission, so he gave into the heat pooled deep in his gut, searing right through him.

Stars sparked across his vision, and his eyes squeezed tight at the white hot sensation striking like lightning against his skin. He whined, low and sweet in the back of his throat, and— and Peter came, squirming so much under Tony’s hand that he arched up off the desk, shooting white across his stomach and the rumpled fabric of his dress.

He hiccuped softly when he settled back against the wood top of his desk, panting quickly for big gulps of air. He was completely knocked down, swimming in Tony’s scent and his own natural submission and the innate desire to be good.

He was a good omega, he was Tony’s omega.

Peter whined, softer then, reaching out for his alpha.

“There you go,” Tony breathed, gaze heavy as he let Peter take him, grip at him desperately. He caught Peter’s hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it, tenderly, almost formally, which was hilarious considering their current— predicament.

Tony lifted a hand and let his fingers drag through the mess on Peter’s stomach before raising them up to Peter’s lips. His eyes never left Peter’s face, not once. “Go on, sweet thing,” he crooned. “Made a mess, didn’t you? Now you gotta clean it up, gotta be good, gotta hide your sins.” He grinned as Peter flushed at the words.

He dipped his fingers into Peter’s mouth, watching him suckle, lapping at his own come, dipping his tongue between each digit, continuing to do as he was told before Tony pulled his fingers back out. He grazed Peter’s skin, perfectly-manicured nails ghosting over it, almost tickling him.

“You did very well, omega-mine,” Tony breathed, and the pet name felt right. “You were perfect, beautiful, really.”

There it was again— omega-mine. It sounded so right coming from Tony’s lips, and Peter couldn’t shake the warm feeling that pooled in his chest every time he heard it. He preened at the praise, mumbling back, “Alpha— s’mine.”

"Yeah, yeah, it is," Tony agreed, still in that soothing, low sing-song voice of his. "You got me, omega. 'm all yours."

Peter made a little punched out noise in his throat.

"You did so well," he repeated, like he wanted Peter to really get it, really understand that he was his. A warm swell of emotions grew in Peter’s chest every time he repeated the words. "You did very, very well. Alpha's proud."

Peter preened, pressing into his touch, and he closed his eyes, letting himself sink deep into the feeling of warmsofthappymyalpha, wishing this moment could last forever.

______

Having sex in his classroom, where he taught children, was really not how Peter planned to end his second year teaching.

Tony had taken him home, but in the state Peter had been in, he wouldn’t have trusted himself to get home alone either. He made it a point to ignore the odd feeling in his gut. The one that made him wonder what it would be like to have an alpha to go home to, a pup to raise— a family that was his.

Tony didn’t have an omega, but something about it definitely felt like homewrecking.

And maybe it was an asshole move on Peter’s part, but he also made it a point to avoid Tony at all costs. He had other things to worry about, like security conveniently never checking the tapes of that afternoon, or disinfecting every possible surface of his classroom.

He didn’t dare tell Steve; Peter was planning to take this one to the grave, honestly. On the list of teacher cardinal sins, on which sleeping with a student was probably #1, Peter had no clue where “banging your favorite student’s dad” put him.

Maybe hell. Definitely hell.

He channeled his stress and the way he missed Tony’s scent for no reason at all into finishing goodie bags for his students. The last day of school was so close, maybe Peter would get lucky and avoid any further incidents.

Except, every single day after what happened, Tony made a point to make some snarky, stupid comment about it.

Peter, using what little sense he had left as a single and unmated omega, always ignored the flush in his cheeks and turned away with a huff.

And thankfully the last day of school came sooner rather than later, although by the tears his pups were shedding, Peter wasn’t sure how thankful he really was.

Two kids came in that morning already snotty and teary, and half-way through the day, Peter had already been tugged into three group hugs. It always hurt to watch them grow up and enter a new grade, maybe because Peter was just starting out. Maybe it got easier with time.

But having pup after pup shyly pad up to his desk, eyes watery with unshed tears, as they forked over a handmade card and whatever gift card their parents had thrown in—god, it really wore away at him.

Before the last bell of the day rang, and he dismissed them for the last time, Peter got up from his desk. He came around it, standing in front of twenty-two little pups, and called out, “1-2-3, eyes on me!”

They immediately began to shush each other, rushing back to their seats. Twenty-two pairs of eyes stared up at Peter, some impatient, others clearly on the verge of tears.

“I just wanted to tell you all that it was my honor to be your teacher this year. All of you are so very special, and nothing made me happier than to watch you all grow up in my class.” Peter said, sniffling softly, realizing even he wanted to cry a bit. “My door is always open, no matter how big you get or who your next teacher is, and I— I am very lucky to have had so many wonderful pups to teach.”

Maybe it was a byproduct of being a new teacher, but Peter had decided this was his favorite class. (He had decided the same thing last year, but—byproduct).

Peter may have let a few tears fall when the bell rang.

Everyone was dismissed on time, running across the yard to their parents, goodie bags and little gifts from classmates in their hands or sticking out of their backpacks.

Well—everyone except for Morgan.

“Looks like it’s you and me for a little longer, hmm?” Peter said, kneeling down a bit. Then he exclaimed, “Oh!” as Morgan said nothing and crashed her little body right into his chest, wrapping both arms around him.

She let out a heartbreaking wail, and Peter shoved his surprise down in order to hug her back.

“Honey, please don’t cry,” he mumbled. If Morgan kept crying, then he would definitely cry again, and Peter refused to do that.

“I— I–I don’t wanna go!” She sobbed, sputtering through her tears.

Peter sniffled softly, scooping her up in his arms as he stood up straight. He rubbed her back, bouncing her lightly in his arms in an effort to calm her down.

“Shh, it’s okay, Morgan, it’s alright honey…”

“NO! Y-You’re my favorite teacher, ever, in the whole widest world! Don’t wanna go!”

Peter found himself wishing Tony was there— then it would be easier, to hand Morgan off, and look them both in the eye, and finally come to terms with the fact that he would probably never see either of them again.

They were not his family, Tony wasn’t his alpha and Morgan certainly wasn’t his pup. No matter how much Peter yearned for it.

“Let’s go inside and wait, okay? We can go wait for your daddy together.” Peter suggested, as Morgan’s wails subsided into soft sniffles against his shoulder.

“M’kay,” she mumbled, clutching onto him like life depended on it. Peter took another look out at the school yard, sighing softly as Tony was nowhere to be seen, before carrying Morgan back inside the classroom.

Peter sat down behind his desk, cradling Morgan in his lap, “You know, I have something special for you, I just didn’t know when it was the right time to give it to you.”

He knew he’d peaked her interest when her little head of curls shot up from his shoulder, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes. Peter couldn’t help but reach out and gently thumb a few stray tears away.

“W-What is it?” Morgan asked.

Peter adjusted them so she was sitting in his chair, and he was kneeling down on the floor. He reached for his bag, pulling out another small gift bag like the ones he’d packed the class’s goodies in.

Morgan gasped softly when he held it out to her. Peter bit his lip, suppressing a wet laugh as she dug past the tissue paper.

She pulled out a stuffed rabbit, dressed in his own wool suit and leather shoes, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Edward!”

“He isn’t exactly porcelain, but I— oof!” Peter was cut off by Morgan launching herself at him again, hugging him tightly.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She exclaimed, pulling away to clutch the rabbit close to her chest. She stared at Peter with big glassy eyes, the same whiskey color as Tony’s, the same interested, expectant look.

“Promise you’ll take him on plenty of adventures, m’kay? We got a dill, pickle?” Peter asked, holding out his pinky to her.

Morgan looped their pinkies together, squeezing tight as she nodded. “It’s a dill, pickle!”

By the time Tony arrived at the classroom—late as always—two hours had passed.

He knocked on the door, rapping his knuckles sharply three times before drawling, "Having fun?"

"Daddy!" Morgan squealed, getting up from where she was sitting and rushing over to hug him. Tony let her jump into his arms, grinning. "Mister Parker gave me Edward and then we read our favorite books together and ate snacks and why can't he be my teacher for forever?"

"Breathe, tiger," Tony snorted. He turned to face Peter, raising an eyebrow at him almost contemplatively, then said, "I thought I'd give you enough time to spend time with your favorite student."

He saw the incredulous look on Peter's face, which clearly only served to encourage him as he added, grinning, "But now your favorite student's parent is here, so go ahead, you can shed those tears now."

And then he peered closer at Peter, narrowing his eyes, and made a little noise at the back of his throat, setting Morgan down on the floor.

"Mister Parker," he said slowly. "It looks like your eyes are a little red. Allergies? No, hilarious, we know it's not hay fever season.”

Peter glared.

Tony grinned. “Admit it, you're gonna miss me—you can say it, I won't laugh."

He closed the distance between them by stepping closer to Peter, looking down at him with a look in his eyes like he didn't give a single fuck that Morgan was watching them.

“Tears? No,” Peter said with a light sniff. “Just celebrating that I won’t have to deal with rush hour traffic every day to get home. Hopefully none of my new pups have parents as timely as you, Mister Stark.”

Peter ignored the stinging in the corners of his eyes. He was not going to cry in front of Tony; he refused to add to the, somehow, very long list of compromising and vulnerable positions the alpha had caught him in.

At this point all Peter had left was to go into heat, right in front of him, and really seal the final nail in his coffin.

Peter stared up at him defiantly, before switching his gaze down to Morgan. “And I— I let Morgan know my door is always open, alright honey? You can come visit anytime you like.”

Peter noticed the smirk on Tony’s face, flushing slightly as he stood up straight. “I meant her, not you,” he said, clearing his throat a bit.

“Oh,” Tony said, eyebrows lifting, “but we’re a package deal. Aren’t we, honey?” He looked at Morgan.

She blinked up at him before saying, “Daddy, you miss Mister Parker.”

“What?” Tony scoffed, and one glance up told him that both his and Peter’s cheeks were reddening at the pup’s words. “Morgan, honey, of course not, he’s right here—”

“I want you and Mister Parker to keep meetin’ up!” she insisted.

Tony’s jaw dropped. “I’m busy, sweetheart—“

“But—” Morgan pouted. Then, she crossed her arms and plopped down on the ground, right at Peter’s feet. “‘m not goin’ home till you say yes.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I could pick you up and take your scrawny self home in less than ten minutes.”

Morgan scowled.

Tony rolled his eyes, and his lips were twitching as he looked up at Peter like he was saying, do you see this?

“Ridiculous, Morgan,” he said dismissively. “It’s not like I would ever take Mister Parker out to dinner.” Peter twitched, and Tony eyed Peter appraisingly, before saying bluntly, “Do you like Italian?”

Peter stared at Tony, blinking incredulously.

Maybe it was tonal whiplash, or just whiplash whiplash, but Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He glanced down at Morgan, who was beaming up at him from the floor and mouthing, “Yes!”

Peter stared at Tony again, swallowing lightly. “I— what? Yes?” he stammered. “Like— like Olive Garden?”

“Oh, exactly like that,” Tony agreed flippantly. He tucked his hands into his pockets, bouncing up a bit on his heels, then added, “We should go. For dinner. For Morgan.” He raised an eyebrow.

“For Morgan,” Peter repeated, rather slowly. Tony nodded.

Uh-huh. Sure. For Morgan.

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, unable to say anything as he just— just peered down at Morgan.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt if Peter said yes. As of two hours ago, he wasn’t technically Morgan’s teacher anymore. She wasn’t his student anymore, meaning Peter had no legal obligation to keep his relationship with Tony professional.

Morgan jumped up, clapping her hands and squealing, and she hugged Peter like he’d already said yes when he hadn’t spoken a single word. “Let’sgolet’sgolet’sgo!”

“See? Look at her, so excited, adorable.” Tony snorted. “Alright, Mister Parker, are you free tonight? Like, right now? Lovely, let’s go.” He continued without even waiting for an answer.

He held his hand out for Morgan, then ushered her onwards to add in a low tone, only loud enough for Peter to hear him, “But if you really want, maybe we can get together again, have some fun, dirty up your classroom—again.” He smirked. “Just don’t expect too much from me, baby. I don’t put out on the first date.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Peter hissed, although it lacked any heat as he flushed at Tony’s words, trying to hide his grin.

He grabbed his usual bag, and another full of all the last-day presents from his students. Morgan was already by the door, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet, clutching onto her rabbit. “And if you’re so worried about that, I think we did things a little backwards, anyway.”

He pushed past Tony, no longer hiding his smile. With a bag over each shoulder, he reached out a hand to Morgan, who easily took it. “C’mon honey, let’s beat this old man outside!”

Morgan squealed as she and Peter ran down the hallway, his heels clacking softly against the tiles. It was nice and easy, how they all just— fit together, and part of Peter hoped he got to have them all the time.

They made their way to Tony’s car, sleek and shiny as always, Tony trailing behind Morgan and Peter. Morgan grabbed Peter’s hand and shouted, “Last one into the car is stinky!” She and Peter ran, reached the car, and then stopped.

Tony strode behind them, smirking. “See,” he drawled, “I would’ve lost, except I’m the only one who has the keys.” He dangled them tauntingly from the fingers that were pinching them, jangling it.

He stopped right in front of Peter, eyes never leaving his face as he stepped close. “Last one to give me a kiss is stinky. Morgan, get in the car; you’re stinky.” He reached around and opened the door.

Morgan giggled and hopped in, peering up at them.

Peter and Tony stared at each other for a few long moments, and then—

“That look on your face,” Tony said consideringly, eyes flicking down to Peter’s lips, then eyes, then ears, nose, lips, eyes, lips, lips, lips— “It’s one that says ‘you’re not really about to kiss me here, are you?’ Well, Mister Parker, I’m a man who defies expectations, so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

And he leaned in, letting his lips crash against Peter’s, and Peter let him.

#read it’s amazing

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

inactive