āTony,ā Happy sighs through the phone and Tony grins around his cheeseburger as he walks down the street. Itās a hot, sunny day and the city is bustling with morning life.
āHowās he doing?ā Tony asks gleefully, taking another bite, āis he sweatinā yet?ā
āNo, he is not āsweating yetā.ā Happy sighs again, he sure does sigh a lot, Tony thinks. āBecause he isnāt here yet.ā
āHe isnāt- what?ā He stops short, shaking his head. āWhat do you mean he isnāt there?ā
āI mean he hasnāt showed up for the interview.ā
āReally? Really? Youāre not here yet.ā
āYeah, because I wanted him to squirm and- itās my company! I can be late if I want to be late!ā He canāt believe the audacity of some people. To be privileged enough to be offered a position as Tony Starkās personal assistant and then not to bother showing up? Oh what sure- has he found some better offer? He scoffs. As if.
He hangs up on Happy, grumbling to himself and finishing his burger angrily when he gets to his street. The Stark Building is a gleaming beacon of glass in the middle of the high risers, and he tosses his wrapper into a trash can as he heads towards the doors.
āHey, hey there, cāmon, itās okayā¦ā a voice croons lovingly, out of place for the bustling New York working day. Tony frowns, turning around to see a very lovely ass hugged by flattering, if cheap, pants. God, itās a good ass. Two nice handfuls. They must do cycling or something. On closer inspection, itās a young man, bent over and peering under a car parked on the street, his hand reaching as if heās trying to get something out.
Tonyās bemused, but itās a very, very nice ass and the dipshit that was supposed to come for an interview isnāt here so, why not? He saunters over, clearing his throat, just as the young man sits up- with a white, furry bundle in his arms. But thatās not what has Tonyās attention- itās the face. He knows that face.
Itās the face from the picture attached to the application. Itās the guy whoās supposed to be here for an interview and-
āOh my god,ā Tony groans, as the boy (because really, how does anyone look that young? The kitten probably isnāt helping) āhow long have you been here?ā
The boy looks star-struck by the sight of him (which yes, good, thatās the reaction Tony typically expects and wants, especially from pretty boys with cream skin and nice asses) and still a little pleased by having freed the kitten, but he obediently glances at his wrist before his jaw drops and panic wells up in his eyes. āOh my god- oh my god- Iām late! Iām late for-ā he cuts himself off, and dread and dismay take over and jesus this kid has a seriously expressive face. Tony kinda likes it. āIām late for an interview with you.ā He chokes out. āMr Stark, Iām so- Iām so sorry, I- oh my god- I-ā his face goes a deep pink and he looks like he wants the ground to bury him whole.
Yeah. Tony likes him. āI just got here.ā He says, lifting his eyebrows in offering and the boy stares up at him in awe.
Before he pauses. āBut what about Trotsky?ā He asks wonderingly.Ā
āWhat about- have you already named that goddamn cat?ā
āMr Stark, look at him,ā he pouts, lifting the kitten and really, the kitten has nothing on how adorable the boy holding him is. He has the biggest, brownest eyes.
Nice eyes, nice ass. Check. Check.Ā
Tonyās impressed. āYouāve got the job.ā
He gasps, jumping into the air with glee. Itās like he radiates sunshine. āMr Stark, thank you, thank you so much, I promise I will not let you down! Iām gonna be the best PA ever, and- itās such an honour working for you, Sir, really-ā
āYeah, save the flattery for Monday.ā Tony teases. āWhatās your name, kid?ā
āPeter!ā He chirps eagerly, stumbling his haste, āPeter Stark- I mean- shit not that- no I-ā he flushes again, and Tony really wants to see how far down that blush goes, and he grins watching the boy stutter. āI just- Parker. My name isā¦itās Parker.ā He swallows thickly and looks up through this long, girly lashes.
Tony drapes an arm over him, and likes the way he feels tucked into his side. He walks them into the building and another check, Peter just follows him all docile, like a little lamb. āEasy mistake to make.ā He consoles, and Peter nods: humiliation and excitement obviously at war with each other. āCāmon, Iāll show you around.ā
Mmm, wouldnāt he look nice bent over your desk? A part of Tony chimes, and he hums thoughtfully. Yeah, yeah he would.
āI have this huge Iron Man poster above my bed,ā Peter is gushing, and Tony growls approvingly at that. āAnd Iāve seen- Iāve seen all your interviews ever, Mr Starkā¦ā
Hero worship. Itās good. Itās great. Tony can work with that. āYou attached, kid?ā He asks, pushing the button for the elevator and catching Peter by the scruff of the neck so he doesnāt keep walking.
The boy falls into line naturally (not questioning the firm hand at his nape at all, another check) and looks surprised. āA-attached?ā
āBoyfriend? Girlfriend?ā Tony glances downwards, ācat?ā
āOh! Oh, no- no, Iām not-ā
āGood,ā Tony growls, pushing him into the elevator.
The blush goes all the way down, and to add to the checklist- he makes the prettiest, prettiest noises.
Except that now, Tony has to buy a fucking litterbox.
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