I've been thinking a lot about feral Lucy. I've loved that idea since I first discoverer it, but it doesn't really fit with any of my current stories, so I've been trying to come up with a new one centered around this idea.
The idea I came up with actually affects all four siblings.
...
The Pevensie siblings all came into Narnia when they were very young and still growing and changing. The magic of the land seeped into them and changed their bodies so they were no longer fully human.
Lucy spends a great deal of time with the animals. Specifically the wolves and big cats. the predators. they raise her to be one of them. Her eyes turn catlike, her steps become soft and soundless, and her canines sharpen. Her knives become her claws and she uses both them and her teeth in battle. She runs with the wolves and howls at the moon. She latches onto her siblings as pack and makes them have family cuddles. She growls when she's upset, hisses when startled or scared, and develops the ability to purr when happy and content.
Edmund spends a lot of time with the birds and griffins. He becomes as silent as an owl, and develops the ability to see in the dark just as well. In times of light his eyes function similar to a falcon's or an eagle's, able to pick out details at a far distance. He loves high places and when absent could often be found in the rafters, on a high parapet, or out patrolling on griffin-back. His reflexes are sharp and quick, able to strike almost as fast as a snake. He sometimes makes little chirping noises and when he's truly furious and lets himself express it, he can let forth a terrifying screech. It's also his battle cry. He loves shiny things and unless he's in sneaking mode will often have something shiny on him. his siblings will also give him little trinkets and pretty rocks they found as random gifts. thoughts are his favorites.
The other two were a bit older and thus went through less drastic changes.
Susan spends a lot of time with the dryads and naiads and she grew to have an uncanny grace in her movements. It was very unsettling to any humans they met. That, combined with her great beauty tended to leave them speechless in her presence. She was also incredibly flexible and could bend her body in ways that few humans are capable of.
Peter spent the majority of his time with Oreius and the other centaurs. He became both much stronger then most humans and far stronger than he looked; and he didn’t look weak. He also became and incredibly fast runner. He never fully realized his enhancements because he didn’t meet with humans often and when he did, and he engaged in challenges with them, they competed in skill rather than strength or speed.
(um yeah so this includes common mafia behavior: killing people. woop! technically winterironspider)
“I’ll fucking gut each and everyone of you like a fucking fish, got it?”
Bucky shifts on his feet uncomfortably. Tony’s standing in the middle of the foyer, fuming. There’s dried blood on his chin and hands, eyes dark with anger. The woman on the floor lets out a whimper, while her other two partners stay silent. Surprisingly, this isn’t as angry as Bucky knows the mobster can get. The trio on the floor would have been dead hours ago if Tony was furious.
“Now, for the love of god, tell me where Toomes is.” His boss growls, voice echoing off the tall walls of the mansion.
The people on the floor stay silent.
Tony is pissed.
He clenches his jaw and cocks his gun, aiming at and shooting the rightmost man in the foot. He screams in agony, writhing against his restraints. The woman gasps before breaking out into sobs. Tony runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair, exasperated. More blood pools on the usually pristine hardwood floor. It must be a bitch to clean, but Tony has the money.
There’s a faint pitter-pater of footsteps coming from the kitchen. Bucky’s hand drifts to his gun instinctively, but he doesn’t need to worry.
“Daddy! You’re home!”
Peter Parker bounces over to Tony, pastel pink summer dress dancing around him. It’s cut tantalizingly short, reaching the top of his milky white thighs. Bucky can see the glint of the pink knife Peter always has strapped to his thigh.
The tension visibly leaves Tony, his brow unfurling and shoulders dropping.
“Princess,” He mutters before capturing Peter’s lips in a filthy kiss. Bucky should look away, but deep down he doesn’t want to. The difference is erotic, how tan and built Tony is while Peter is a pale, dainty little thing. His boss would kill him in an instant if he found out what Bucky thinks about doing to the boy.
“Help,” The woman whimpers out, attempting to catch Peter’s attention. It works, but for the wrong reason. Slowly, the brunette pulls away from Tony, studying the woman on the floor.
“Is she bothering you, daddy?” Peter lilts, a mischievous glint in his doe eyes. Tony chuckles darkly, squeezing Peter’s plump ass.
“Yeah, baby. Givin’ me a fuckin’ headache.” Tony replies, kissing the top of Peter’s mop of curls. Slowly, Peter stalks towards the woman, slipping his knife out from the holster on his thigh.
“I don’t like when people make my daddy angry, or upset, or stressed.” He purrs, kneeling on the ground so he’s face to face with the woman. “Maybe that’s why he fucks me so hard. He has all this pent-up stress from people like you.”
The woman tried to contain her sobs as Peter traces her tears with the tip of his knife. Tony stares at his boy with a look of pure arousal, and Bucky’s pretty sure he looks the same.
“So tell my daddy what he wants to know and I’ll let you go.” Peter whispers, trailing the blade down to her throat. The woman’s eyes flicker over to Tony nervously. “Don’t worry, I’m good at sweet talking.”
“Toomes is operating in the Harvey Power Plant upstate!” The woman cries, eyes wide and pleading. “He moved the lab up there! Now please, let me go!”
Peter stabs her in the neck.
Tony nods at Bucky and he delivers clean shots to the back of the other men’s heads. Peter pulls his knife out of the woman as she sputters for air. He frowns, like he’s upset that his favorite knife is dirty.
“My best boy,” Tony purrs, pulling Peter off of the floor and into another kiss. Peter squeals happily, kissing the older man back hungrily. Bucky could look at the bodies on the floor or the couple.
He chooses the latter.
Tony mutters something in Peter’s ear, glancing up at Bucky. He flushes, looking away, embarrassed.
“Mister Barnes?”
Bucky looks at Peter.
“Daddy says you can join us upstairs if you ask nicely.”
Sorry but all I can think about is Peter in Spider-Gwen’s costume
- I want Peter in that white and black get up with the hood and the vibrant fuchsia pink inner-lining and bright teal ballet pumps wrapped in bows around his ankles
- I want him to have half his hair cropped short and the other half long and shaggy and wavy and so cool as it falls into his forehead
- And he has a purple flower tattooed on his neck and he’s kick-ass and he swoops in out of nowhere and saves Tony when he’s being held hostage somewhere
- And Ironman is like holy shit who is that gorgeous thing???
- And Peter, as a sassy little shit, just webs up the villains and somersaults away with a flourish of ballet moves and tells Tony to “keep up, old man”
- Oh my god and he definitely wears sparkly eyeshadow and when Tony sees his face for the first time he knows that this kid is going to be the death of him but he can never just find Peter, Peter always finds him. Just webs in at Tony’s most humiliating moments with a quip and sometimes with a burrito offering
- and when Tony tries to corner him, Peter just shoots an electrical web that completely short circuits (albeit, temporarily) the ironman suit and Tony is stunned (in both meanings of the word) and Peter just winks and laughs as he twirls and pirouettes away and says “MIT begged me to be on their course.”
- But of course, that’s Peter’s slip. Because now Tony knows how to find him and he rolls up to campus and eventually tracks him down
- And there’s this beautiful boy in a rainbow pastel crop sweater and pink denim booty shorts and leg warmers and mis-matching converse with light in the dark laces on a unicorn skateboard just sailing gracefully across campus with a lollypop in his mouth and a fucking ironman backpack and Tony...
It IS easy to kidnap Spiderman (If Peter Parker has to go to a board meeting)
This has also been posted at AO3, but I thought it might be good to have a back-up of the story on another website. Just in case.
Summary:
Slightly crack-ish, not to be taken too seriously, mostly just written for fun. Peter has to go to an S.I. board meeting.
Peter doesn’t want to go to an S.I. board meeting.
Peter can’t come up with an excuse to not go to an S.I. board meeting.
Peter needs a miracle.
… Or, alternatively, a van full of kidnappers.
“I’m going to die!”
Peter whined as he, Ned and MJ crossed the street. Ned shot his best friend a somewhat sympathetic look, while the girl in the group rolled her eyes.
“You are not going to die because you have to sit through one measly big wig meeting.”
Peter ignored her.
“Goodbye oh cruel world. How heartlessly you rip me from existence.”
MJ folded her arms as they kept walking.
“You do realize that as the official heir to Stark Industries, you are going to have to deal with this stuff all the time, right?”
Peter dramatically gripped his chest, looking up into the sky.
“The lights… are fading… Limbs… growing cold… I see… a tunnel… Mother, is that… you?… Begging me.. to go… into the light?… Must. Move. Towards. The. Light! I am… going… Home… Goodbye cruel world! … Rose…bud.”
And then he gracelessly slumped against the store front to his left, slowly sliding down. Ned clapped politely, while Michelle kept frowning.
“Really? The possum from ‘Over the hedge’?”
Peter was up in an instant.
“Don’t diss the classics, MJ.”
And there went the eye roll again.
“My point stands. You are one day going to head one of the most, if not the most, successful and important enterprises in the world. You are going to need to learn how to do it. And like it or not, that includes sitting through board meetings.”
They stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green.
“But it’s gonna be so boring! They will be talking about market value and sales figures and the development of our sister companies and the possibilities of future trading partners, and I’m going to fall asleep, okay? I’m going to fall asleep right there, and then I will slide from the chair and crack my head open on the incredibly expensive meeting table, and then I will be bleeding out on the floor, - which is probably carpeted with imported, high quality, unicorn hair. And then everyone is going to look at me all judgmental like, and Pepper and Tony are gonna rethink leaving their billion dollar baby in the hands of a super spaz like me. And if I somehow survive bleeding to death on unicorn hair carpet, I will die of shame.”
The light finally turned and the three friends proceeded.
“Unicorn hair?” Ned questioned.
“It’s so soft!” Peter answered with huge, awe-filled eyes. “And you guys haven’t even heard the worst part! Pepper said I can’t bring Hope!”
Now his best male friend looked appropriately shocked by this absolute travesty, but his best female friend just continued to roll her eyes at him. Peter wondered if she ever got dizzy from it.
“Seriously? You are not allowed to bring your overly affectionate and enthusiastic dog to an important board meeting? What is the world coming to?”
Her sarcasm went right over the brunettes head.
“Right?”
Peter and Hope, his shelter rescue Pit Bull, had been pretty much inseparable ever since the teenager adopted the beautiful ball of barely contained love. The only times you would find one without the other was when Peter went out as Spiderman, or when he needed to go to school. He had actually tried sneaking Hope into school with him on the first day, after summer vacation had ended. Needless to say, that plan had been thwarted by the ever present eyes of Friday.
It was a bit of a miracle that Ned and MJ had been able to talk Peter into trying out that new diner that had opened up a few streets away from their school, without the other teenager running home first to bring his loyal follower with them. Though that had probably to do with Peter’s unwillingness to step foot in the tower until he absolutely had to. After all, there was always the chance that Pepper or Tony would just keep him there to further prep him for the upcoming meeting.
Ned nudged him playfully in the side.
“You know, most people would be fruit loops ecstatic about being gifted the inheritance of a multi-billion dollar company for their 17th birthday, instead of complaining about having to attend a meeting.”
Peter just loved that his best friend had picked up his way of swearing.
“I’m not trying to be ungrateful here, I just don’t see the point! After all, it’s not like I will be running any of those meetings once I take over.”
This statement was met with curious stares from both of his friends.
“And how do you figure that, loser?”
Said teen casually threw up his arms and intertwined his fingers behind his head.
“Well, I thought I would just hire you as the acting CEO, so, you know, you can completely dominate the business world and make everyone your little licorice. And everyone will of course include Ned here, who will be head of S.I. Robotics department by then, and yours truly, as I will be french frying around our biochemistry labs whenever I’m not 'on the web’.”
(Which was their extremely unoriginal code for Peter’s Spiderman activities.)
Peter was only slightly surprised by the twin slaps he received to both of his arms.
“The hell, Parker!”
“Dude, that’s not how you tell someone they have an amazing job waiting for them after university!”
To which he just shrugged his shoulders.
“What? It’s pretty much how Tony told me I was the god donuts heir to his and Peppers company. Well, actually he came into the kitchen on the morning of my birthday, while me and Hope were just enjoying breakfast after our early run, and dropped a stack of papers right before me. Then he waved a pen in front of my face and tapped it onto the bottom line on the paper on top of the stack and said: 'Sign here.’ So, naturally, I did, and as soon as I had finished signing, he snatched everything back and said: 'Congrats, kid. You are now the official heir to Stark Industries. Happy Birthday.’ And that was that.”
He immediately received another slap on his arm from MJ.
“You signed something without reading it first? What kind of a moron are you? That’s not how you run a freaking business!”
Peter pointed at her victoriously.
“See! This is exactly why I need you! You are already better at it than I am.”
He looked incredibly satisfied with his reasoning. Ned, who was still not completely over the shock of the metaphorical bomb their friend had just dropped on them, still couldn’t help but agree.
“He’s got a point, MJ. I mean, can you really imagine Pete here, sitting at the head of a table, filled with twenty suit wearing people, and telling them what to do? Face it, you are just way more intimidating than him.”
Peter was nodding along quite happily, though the girl only snorted.
“Please, a marshmallow stuffed cupcake is more intimidating than Parker.”
“Hey! I mean, that does sound ridiculously delicious so I’m kinda flattered, but still!… Do you think we can get that cupcake somewhere?”
Ned smirked. “Well, seeing as you are about to die a horribly pathetic death, I guess we can at least ask when we get to the diner. They are bound to have something overly sugary to satisfy your sweet tooth.”
And Peter slumped once more.
“Did you have to remind me of my impending doom? Why is there never an uprising of the mole people when you need it? Not that I want anyone to be in danger or anything, but a minor little catastrophe, to keep Spiderman occupied long enough to have a valid reason to miss the meeting, would be really, french fruit loops frying appreciated right now.”
And for once, it seemed like some higher power had heard and took pity on the spider-enhanced teenager. Because at exactly that moment, a black, large van was barreling down the street behind them, coming to a screeching halt right next to the three on the sidewalk. Peter instinctively took hold of both of his friends arms and drew them back behind himself, as the side door of the van slid open, and three masked men with guns in their hands emerged out of it. The other pedestrians on the street fled in a light panic at the sight of the armed men.
One of the men, apparently the leader of the group, pointed his gun right at Peter.
“You! Peter Parker! Get into the van, and no one is gonna get hurt!”
Peter looked at him with wide, stunned eyes.
“Are you… trying to kidnap me?”
The leader waved his gun impatiently.
“Not trying to. In the van! Now!”
And to the three kidnappers absolute astonishment (as well as their driver’s, who was still seated behind the wheel) the kid threw his hands up in the air, joyfully whooped, and then sprinted, actually fucking sprinted, right by them to leap into the vehicle. A timeless second went by, as everyone was trying to process what had just happened. (Well, not everyone. Michelle and Ned were simply sending their friend completely unimpressed glares)
Then the teen leaned slightly out of the car.
“Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job or anything, but maybe we should get going? You know, before someone calls the cops? Just saying.”
That seemed to rouse the masked men from their confusion and spurred them into action. Before the door slid shut behind the last one, Peter pinned his two friends with a very serious look.
“Don’t call him! At least not before six o'clock!”
The meeting was scheduled for 18:30, and he was supposed to be at the tower no later than 18:15. He would never make it! With that gleeful thought, Peter relaxed into the backseat and faced the group leader.
“Do you think we can make a quick stop at a drive-thru or something? I was actually on my way to lunch, you know?”
And then Ned and Michelle were left in the figurative dust, as they watched the van speed away, transporting their friend to who knows where.
The inherently more worried Ned turned to his female companion.
“Should we… like call the police? Or Mr. Stark? Or the other Avengers?”
Michelle scoffed.
“Calm down, Leeds. The loser can handle himself. Besides, our future employer has given us strict instructions to not call anyone and report what happened just yet. We will shoot Stark a text at six. It’s not like he won’t find his idiot son in a heartbeat. Until then, let’s go to that diner, I’m starving. I’m also gonna have to research some meditation exercises or something. My future self is going to need all the patience in the world if I’m expected to deal with this kind of bullshit every time I have to drag Peter to a meeting.”
“Pep, Pepsi to my Coke, Pepperoni on my pizza, love of my life! Why do I have to go to the board meeting?”
Pepper ignored her fiance’s whining, something she had tremendous experience with, and instead held up another tie against the man’s white shirt, comparing it to the maroon one in her other hand.
“Because you thought it would be a good idea to announce the heir of Stark Industries on live television. And now the board wants to meet Peter.”
Deciding on the maroon tie, she laid the other one over the back of a nearby chair. Tony huffed as Pepper expertly bound a Windsor knot.
“Exactly. They want to meet the kid. Not me. They know me! Everyone knows me! My name is on the building.”
Having finished with the tie, Pepper grabbed the dark suit jacket next.
“It’s your own fault. If you had waited to reveal Peter as the heir to the company until he finished college, like you were supposed to, you wouldn’t have to deal with this now.”
Tony shrugged the jacket on and tried to look as innocent as possible when he countered with “I had no choice! Ellen totally tricked me into it.”
The flat stare his fiance shot him spoke volumes. “She asked you what exciting new surprises the next Expo held in store for everyone.”
To which the billionaire waved his hand dismissively. “Semantics.”
Pepper rolled her eyes.
“It will be a good experience for Pete. He pretty much knows all about the inner workings and procedures in the labs, but he needs to get to know the business side of things, too.”
“Which is what he has you for. Why do I have to be there?”
She adjusted the jacket, righted the tie and gave him a quick kiss.
“As moral support. And to set a good example. Which means no playing on your phone, no snorting or groaning noises when you get bored, and no rolling your eyes when Henderson brings up project 99.”
Tony groaned. “Henderson always brings up project 99. The guy is like a broken record. It was a bad idea the first time he proposed it, and it continues to be a bad idea now. Why is he even still on the board?”
“Because he is six months away from retirement and we wouldn’t be so cruel as to demote or fire him before then. And now stop whining and get ready. The meeting starts in twenty five minutes and Peter should be here any moment now.”
With an overly dramatic sigh, the man let himself fall backwards onto their king sized bed. Much to the displeasure of Hope, who had curled up on one of the pillows to mope until his favorite human came back again. “Sorry buddy.” Tony scratched the dog behind his ears in apology. Then he looked forlornly at the ceiling. “Why is there never an alien invasion when you need one?”
Which was, naturally, the perfect moment for Friday to announce “Incoming Video call from 'Boss Junior’.”
Pepper crossed her arms under her chest. “Oh, he better not try to get out of this meeting.”
Tony’s line of thought was similar. “He better have a damn good excuse for getting out of this meeting.”
The vid-link opened via the towers holographic screens, and the couples eyes immediately focused on Peter. Who was sitting in a badly lit room, empty of all furniture save for the chair the teen was tied to (with what looked like completely normal rope, which they knew Peter could snap like silly string), and behind him a tall, well muscled man, dressed completely in black, donning a black ski mask, and a hand gun pointed right at Peter’s head.
Now, a sight like this would usually propel Tony right into heart attack territory, - if it wasn’t for the big ass grin on the kid’s face.
“Hi Tony! Hi Pepper! So, as you can see, I have been kidnapped.” (Under his breath, Tony couldn’t help but concede “Damn, that’s a good excuse.”)
“It was completely unavoidable and absolutely against my own will.” (Pepper groaned. “Are you kidding me?”)
“I mean, of course it was against my will! Because who in their right minds would jump into a van full of armed kidnappers, when they have an important meeting to attend later that same day? Certainly not me!” (“That clever little shit!”)
By that point Hope had recognized his owners voice and was crawling all over Tony to get a better look at the holo screen, barking happily. Peter’s whole face lit up at the sight of his dog.
“Hey Hope. Yes, I miss you too. Are you a good boy for Tony and Pepper?”
And as Peter cooed at his dog, Tony tried to not have his nose constantly slapped by a wildly wagging tail, and Pepper was burying her face into her hands, the looming, dark figure behind Peter apparently decided that he had been patient enough with his 'victim’, and slightly nudgded the teen’s shoulder. Peter looked up at the man with a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, dude. Anyway, I’m supposed to tell you that if you want me to be returned in one piece, you need to transfer one million dollars-” Then Peter turned back to the man behind him. “Are you sure you only want a million? Think about it. You need to split this up between the four of you, which is only 250000$ for everyone. And you will have to withdraw the money pretty much right away, otherwise Mr. Stark will be able to follow the money trail right to you. Also, you will want to leave the country pretty quickly after this, cause, you know, that’s Iron Man you are dealing with here. But with that much cash in your possession, you can’t use a commercial flight, cause they check your bags and stuff and 250 grand would probably raise a few eyebrows. Which leaves you with the only option of paying someone to get you out under the radar, and that probably won’t be cheap… Have you really thought this through?”
The man looked at Peter (his posture had lost it’s threatening stance long ago), then at the person who was obviously holding Peter’s phone to record the video, then at Peter again, and then he made the universal sign to 'end the call’ at the camera and with that, the feed cut off.
Friday’s helpful: “The video call has been cut off, boss.”, was followed by “You have also received a text message from 'The Scary One’, which reads: 'FYI, your idiot son has let himself get kidnapped in order to avoid shameful death on unicorn hair.’ - End message.”
And while Tony had no idea what the part about unicorn hair could possibly be about, he had long since learned not to ask questions.
Pepper did not have to look up to know that her fiance was sporting a downright gleeful look right then.
“So… looks like the Spiderling needs rescuing.” He was edging off his seat on the bed (having deposited Hope from his lap earlier) and had already taken off his tie and suit jacket. “What terrible, terrible timing. And here I was so looking forward to talking about project 99 with good old Henderson. Such a shame.” He was halfway across the room, the Iron Man armor already forming around him. “Oh well, can’t be helped. Gotta go save Pete from his evil kidnappers now. Fri, locate his watch, please. Thanks, girl. Guess we will have to postpone this whole business meeting introduction thingy. Gotta get going before the kid accidentally teaches these guys how to be real criminals. Love you, Pep. Have fun at the meeting! Bye!”
Then the sound of the opening of one of the large windows, followed by the thrusters of the suit, and before Pepper even had time to wave him off, Iron Man was flying through the New York sky.
For reasons Pepper was quite comfortable never to examine, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Like Father, like Son. Both running from meetings whenever they can and leaving me to deal with it.”
A warm, furry body cuddled into her legs and she smiled as she lovingly pet the Pit Bulls head.
“You know what? Screw it. Peter is going to sneak you into one of those meetings sooner or later anyway. (And I will get him to attend one, he can’t get himself kidnapped every time). Better to get the board used to you. And if they can’t meet their future boss, they will at least meet his dog. What do you say, Hope, do you want to go to a boring board meeting with me?”
Her answer was an excited bark and a lot of tail wagging.
“Good boy.”
The End
I wasn’t actually sure how to end this one. There was always the option of following Tony to the hide-out the kidnappers had Peter at, just for him to burst in and see Peter (free of any kind of restraints), sitting in a circle with his kidnappers (all of whom had divested themselves of their ski masks), and explaining to them various ways on how to better plan their next heist. Or how to make money without using illegal means. Or giving them advice on going back to school/getting their GED (-that is what it is called, right?), or how volunteering at an animal shelter might help them with their parole officer later on…
But then I thought, nah, leave that to the imagination of the readers, or refer to it in a later part of the series if you want.
As I said in the beginning, this was basically written just for the fun of it. Never the less, I would be happy to know if you liked/enjoyed it.
Tony can understand- at least on a purely superficial level- why Pepper might have thought they were a good match. But hell, Tony’s counting down the seconds till he can get out of this restaurant and into his limo- very much alone.
He’s wondering why Pepper’s done this to him. Is it a punishment? Did he forget to sign some contracts again?
Because even though Dexter is handsome- and he is handsome, just Tony’s type. Fit, and compact with big eyes and a slender build- fair and beautiful, but he’s…dull. Boring. Painfully average and just this side of rude.
Normally, Tony wouldn’t put up with it. He’d have made a crass comment and walked out, but this is a fancy place, and he’s already had enough public scandals for the past month. So, for this evening- and only this evening- he puts up with Dexter’s admission that not only does he not have a Stark Phone, but he actually owns an Oscorp Laptop.
Tony must have forgotten to sign some papers. This is definitely a punishment. Only Pepper would be this cruel.
Dexter nearly leaps out of his seat in outrage and Tony startles, before quickly hiding his grin behind his hand at the huge wet stain all over the man’s trousers.
“I-I’m so sorry, Sir! Oh god- I’m- I’ll pay to have that dry cleaned!” Comes the stumbling, apologetic plea of the waiter, and Tony tries to hide his laughter in his steak as Dexter angrily stomps to the bathroom.
Ah, bliss. He’s free of the man’s company for a few minutes. He turns to the waiter gratefully, only to see the young man hurriedly packing things back onto the tray.
He watches casually as the waiter picks up the glass and hums consideringly at the pert, round ass clad in tight black pants, and as the waiter gets up- sees his face.
Oh, he’s so pretty. Tony feels his mouth water and he’s just about to try his smoothest pick up line- when something clicks.
Dexter’s order had come wrong, when they first arrived. His steak was well done when he’d asked for rare. His lime-infused source had apparently reeked of lemon, and- Tony looks down at their wine-glasses.
His own has been refilled with deep burgundy, and Dexter’s is empty.
The waiter can obviously tell what Tony’s realised, because he blushes (pretty, pretty, pretty Tony thinks on repeat. Is he broken?) and reaches to mop up the damp around Dexter’s plate. “In no universe does Oscorp broadband run faster than SI’s.” The waiter murmurs matter-of-factly, cheeks still pink but eyes sparkling and honest, and holy shit, Tony is in love.
“What time do you get off?” He asks, intrigued beyond belief, and the waiter shoots him a half scandalised, half delighted look, before Dexter comes back.
He shoots a glare at the waiter, and Tony feels a surge of protectiveness rise up. He stands up, balling his napkin and tossing it onto the table. Dexter frowns up at him, and the waiter is staring warily.
“Dexter,” Tony sighs, raising his wine glass, and the other guests turn to look, and fuck it, it’s just another scandal- “This has been horrible.” And he tips his wine all over the man’s insufferable face.
He feels maybe a little bad about it, but then the waiter is beaming and saying-
“I’m Peter Parker. You can pick me up from here tomorrow at 8.”
“What the fuck?!” Dexter screeches, but Tony hardly hears him, because Peter’s pressed a card into the palm of Tony’s hand and it’s white and pristine and all it says is-
Tony’s the best goddamn salesman in the office. Hell, in Wallstreet. He can move stocks, he can sell stocks, he can throw a life raft to the drowning man or sink the ship himself.
He’s charismatic, handsome, and about as in style as his tailored three piece suits, which is to say- very and always in style. He’d graduated from desk jockey to cubicle drone to glass corner office in three short years and he has a floor full of people desperately in awe of him, vying for scraps of attention or pieces of wisdom.
And Tony loves his job. He loves talking to people, he loves working his charm, he loves winning and he loves money and he loves not having to answer to anyone.
And he doesn’t answer to anyone, except from- aside from that one pesky exception- in Nick Fury.
He owns the whole company, so technically Tony reports to him, but Nick’s practically never here so Tony’s the one in charge.
Apart from this week, apparently, because when he walks in on Monday morning it’s to see Nick in his office, that trademark furious glare that’s really poorly concealed behind what Tony supposes is meant to be a welcoming smile. He doesn’t break stride though, just saunters into his desk and grins. “I see you helped yourself into my office.” He says cheerily.
“It’s not your office, Tony.” Nick growls, closing the door and standing in front of it like he thinks Tony might run out. “They’re all my offices. Every thing in this building is mine, do you understand that? Even those ugly ass lion statues in the lobby, they’re mine.”
Tony sighs and eases into his leather desk chair. “That’s unfortunate. Maybe give ‘em to charity or something.”
“Stark.” Nick’s tone is flat, unamused, and Tony looks up at him with his best ‘I’m listening’ face. “I was able to just waltz into your office because I notice- you don’t have a PA.”
Tony’s eyes flicker to the desk just outside his office. Sure enough, it’s empty. “I wondered why I wasn’t getting any messages.”
Nick is, again, unimpressed.
“Pepper’s off on maternity leave,” Tony shrugs, tossing his stress ball into the air and catching it again. “I can go without a PA for a year, Nicky.”
“Don’t you ever call me that again, and no, you can’t. Do you know why I’m here-”
“-I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me-”
“I’m here because none of your sales have been recorded and stored, none of your hours, none of your billables. I haven’t had a hard copy receipt of any of your transactions and that makes you liable, Tony. And you may be one of my best workers, but I do not give a shit about you. But you being liable, makes me liable, which makes my company liable. And we wanna work as a team, don’t we?”
“That seems like a rhetorical question.”
“You are so backed up and you don’t even have a clue.” Nick growls, massaging his temples like he’d very much like to annihilate Tony right on the spot.
Tony feels a little bit bad. He may have forgotten about those pesky little paper trails. “It’s not like I’m breaking the law, Fury, c’mon-”
“Oh, I’ll just tell the bank that you’re not breaking the law and send them on their merry fucking way, shall i? Or, should you get a secretary?”
“Hire me one, then,” Tony rolls his eyes, bored with the conversation and reaching forward to grab a random sheet of paper off his desk. He peruses it idly. It’s a shopping list, and scanning the items, he’s not entirely sure what for. A baby shower? There’s too much alcohol for that- someone’s birthday? Whose list even is this? Is it in here by mistake?
“Do you know how many secretaries you went through before Pepper, Tony? Over a hundred. You have to hire one yourself. I do not want to be sued for abusive language again-”
Tony looks up sharply. “She was being an imbecile, Fury, and I stand by what I said-”
Nick lifts a hand to cut him off. “Hire a secretary before the week is out, Stark, or it won’t be such a friendly visit next time.”
He leaves in a whirlwind of leather and disapproval and Tony stares bemusedly.
He doesn’t even have to touch his phone before it buzzes and he sees the text from Pepper. Heard someone got a nasty visit. I’ll have someone for you before Friday.
Tony smiles softly. He misses her, he should buy her something-
suddenly, he remembers what the shopping list is for.
When Tony gets into the office on Friday morning, he’s riding on a bit of a high. Everything’s been going so well recently. He’s signed more clients than ever in a three day span, one of his biggest competitors missed a big meeting and Fury hasn’t left any menacing phone calls. Pepper had liked her presents, people still stare after him, and- life all around is good.
He’s in his office, just taking a moment to savour how triumphant and successful he is, when he reaches out for a sip of his coffee.
It’s a fucking delicious blend. Expensive and Italian and the stuff that you can only get from a very pretentious cafe on the other side of New York and-
He pauses in his drinking.
He never got himself coffee.
He looks at the cup in his hand and lowers it marginally. It’s hot and just the way he likes it. He looks around his office then too, and suddenly all the differences appear and slap him in the face. His desk is clear- not just clear, clean, and his laptop keys are shiny and polished like new. His papers are organised and there are highlights and annotations and his certificates are hanging on the wall and not crammed into a box in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet where he left them. In fact, his whole fucking office looks professional and goddamn nice.
His dry cleaning is hanging neatly in the corner too. He gets up, and looks at the desk outside his office.
Sure enough, there’s someone sitting there.
A male from what Tony can see, with short brown hair and a headset on. He's typing into the computer and diligently scribbling onto a notepad. He looks like he knows what he’s doing.
Who the hell is he?
Tony’s laptop pings and he looks down to see a new email from Fury.
Well done, Stark. Everything looks to be in order. I knew you could be reasonable.
He clicks on the attachments, already knowing what he’s going to see. All his backlogs, all his logged hours, all his receipts, ordered and neatly filed and chronologically placed and there are even little notes underneath each one with extra details and- how the fuck does his new secretary know that yes, actually, the Milton case had required an extra emergency meeting when they’d discovered a conflict- Tony hadn’t made a note of it anywhere.
Curiosity truly peaked now, he takes his perfect coffee and saunters out, walking around the front of the desk.
His new secretary looks up and Tony’s penis twitches a little. Okay, yes, Tony Jr approves. He’s young, maybe twenty, with brown hair and big brown eyes, cream skin and a delicate nose. He’s slender, but in shape, in a white shirt with the top few buttons undone, giving a lovely view of those sharp collarbones. He’s wearing black trousers and the the microphone wire against his cheek and in his hair contrasts nicely with his pale skin.
He looks up at Tony and smiles pleasantly. “Mr Stark, is there something I can help you with?”
Tony spots a calendar on the corner of the desk. He picks it up and flips through it. His meetings and deadlines for the next six months are all neatly pencilled in. The most important ones are starred with a red pen. He sets it down carelessly and watches as the young man straightens it without a word. “So, how long have you been here, Mr...”
“Peter Potts, Sir.” Peter says, and ah, this makes sense. The only way Peter could be so clever was if he had the Potts gene. “I started on Tuesday.”
Tuesday, fuck. No wonder things have been going so well. “Pepper’s little brother?”
“Half brother,” Peter corrects, “and soon to be uncle.”
Tony can see the resemblance. The soft skin, the sweet eyes. “Well, Peter and Pepper. That’s cute.”
Peter doesn’t say anything to that, but his pretty pink lips twitch in amusement.
But Tony doesn’t have any qualms. Peter is quite clearly capable, he’s related to Pepper, he’s eye-candy, and he’s gotten Tony his favourite coffee. So, the older man simply tips his head and goes back into his office. But as soon as he’s sitting down, his curiosity flares up again. He presses the button on his intercom and clears his throat. “You go to college, Peter?”
He watches through the glass as Peter’s chair swivels around, and the boy talks into the microphone with an intrigued smile. “Yes, Mr Stark. Top of my class at Harvard.”
“What did you study?”
“I majored in Engineering with a minor in Journalism. Graduated last year.”
An early bird then, Tony can relate. That Potts gene really is something else. “And what have you been doing for the past year?”
“Odd jobs,” Peter says evasively. “But when Pepper said she needed my help, I was all too happy to oblige. I’m a very big fan of yours, Mr Stark. There’s no bigger name in Wallstreet.” The phone rings and Peter shoots Tony an apologetic, but polite smile, as he picks up the phone. “Tony Stark’s office.” He nods, turning to the computer as the person talks. “Yes, I can see that here. No problem. Thank you. Yes, yes, Mr Butler, I will let him know.” Peter chuckles and Tony stares: amazed. “Alright. Thank you, goodbye.”
“Mr Butler?” Tony shakes his head, “That was Jerry on the phone?”
“Yes, Mr Stark. Would you like me to get him back on the line for you?”
Jerry Butler is the coldest man in the world. He doesn’t laugh with secretaries. He’s no reason for any smile ever. But Peter had chuckled like he was talking to an old friend. Not even Pepper had achieved that. “No, no.” Tony frowns, “you carry on.” He clicks off the intercom and strums his fingers against his desk thoughtfully. Something doesn’t feel quite right- if something seems too good to be true...his mind warns.
Maybe the catch is that he can’t sleep with Peter and the more he talks to the boy, the more he wants to.
He does his best to ignore it for now.
Things continue to go brilliantly. Life is even more effortlessly amazing than it was before. Nick even drops the hints of a promotion in the future if things keep going like this. When Tony gets to work, his favourite coffee is waiting, sometimes even a bagel or a croissant like Peter magically knows when Tony hasn’t had breakfast. He eats or drinks in his office as he checks emails, before Peter comes in with a notebook and a rundown of the days events, and then Tony gets to work. Peter comes in throughout the day, silent and unobtrusive and sets down water or coffee or occasionally- an apple- and sets it by Tony’s elbow and leaves again.
When Tony steps out to meet a client for lunch, he sees Peter taking his lunch break at his desk- his headset is still on, and he’s still scribbling away, but it’s into an old worn science textbook. In his other hand is a sandwich he’s nibbling on.
Tony prods at the book as he pulls on his coat. Peter had it dry cleaned specially and waiting in his office before Tony even knew he'd be out for lunch. There’s probably already a cab waiting downstairs. “What’s this?” Tony asks, trying to peek at the cover.
Peter lets him easily. “It’s a bio-chemistry textbook. I’m thinking about taking some night classes. Work towards a masters, or if I don’t qualify- a second degree.”
Tony may not have much pull in the science world, but his father sure did. He knows that name and money can go a long way, and Peter’s been exceptional. “I can get you in for a Masters anywhere you wanna go.” He assures, and Peter looks up at him with wide eyes.
“Mr Stark-”
“It’s not a problem. Now, who am I meeting?”
“Mrs Aberelle. She loves shrimp and it was her granddaughter’s birthday last week.”
Tony’s not sure whether he wants to ruffle Peter’s hair or give him a filthy kiss on the mouth. He settles for neither.
Mrs Aberelle practically gushes and swoons in her seat when Tony orders her the shrimp platter and asks how her granddaughter’s birthday was. She makes a higher bid than Tony even asked for. Peter’s a godsend.
The next day, the CEO of of another major competitor comes down with the flu, and Tony’s pitch goes down brilliantly.
He’s on cloud nine.
Careful, a voice warns, when you’re this high, there’s only one way to go.
It sounds suspiciously like his father, but he listens to it. “Hey, Peter,” he greets one morning as he strolls in. Peter’s in his office, just setting down his coffee and a- fuck, a danish pastry. He might be in love. “I got you a little something.”
Peter blinks in surprise, but smiles sweetly, and crosses his hands in front of him as he waits. Tony sets his briefcase down and clips open the gold clasps and lifts out a brand new, just released bio-chemistry textbook. Peter takes it with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Mr Stark...” he whispers, shaking his head, “this was- I know for a fact that this was over a $100. I can’t accept this-”
“Kid,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s pocket change. Besides, I’m not giving it to you for nothing.”
Peter’s eyes flash to his and Tony’s a little surprised by what he sees. Peter looks almost-fuck, almost dangerous- but it’s gone in a flash, replaced with that sweetness and hardworking, subtle smugness that’s usually there.
“I want you to attend the meeting with Lawson tomorrow. As a sit in, alright?”
Peter nods immediately, but frowns. “Is there any particular reason why, Mr Stark?” He’s clutching the book to his chest almost reverently.
“Not really,” Tony admits, rubbing his chin, “just wary. You up for it?”
“Always.” Peter murmurs, and Tony thinks he must be imagining the demure little almost-wink he gets.
It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it again that night.
He shakes Lawson’s hand in the morning as the man and his associates sit opposite him at the large oakwood table. Tony and Peter on one side, Lawson and his men on the other. Peter has his notebook out and is writing away- he always seems to be writing, Tony has no idea what- and then they start talking.
Tony’s not sure what he was worried about. The contract is brilliant, more lenient than expected and has nothing but benefits for both sides. He’s giving Lawson a hard time, but that’s just part of the game, and he’s about to seal the deal when-
Peter slides a piece of paper over to him without looking up. Tony frowns at him, but Peter doesn’t make eye-contact, continuing to write, and Tony looks down.
He’s lying. Don’t sign.
Well fuck, that’s a fucking thing to write. What is Tony supposed to do with that? He sets it down and tries to look unaffected as they keep talking but when Lawson’s side slide over the contract, Tony pauses with the pen in his hand. Peter isn’t making a sound.
“Let me just talk to my secretary real quick,” Tony grins, wearing his best winning smile, “why don’t you fine gentlemen wait outside, take five, catch a breather, and then we can come back and sort this out.”
They look a little confused, but they leave and then Peter and Tony are alone.
“What the hell is this, Peter?”
Peter looks up bravely, his jaw locked. “I don’t trust him, Mr Stark. There’s something not right-”
“I’m gonna need a little more than your hunch, kid. No offence, but I’ve been in this game a lot longer than you. You don’t know the contract, it’s a good deal-”
“It’s too good a deal,” Peter insists, lifting the thick contract up. “I’ve read through it, Mr Stark. I read through all the contracts you’re about to sign and there’s something about this that doesn’t add up. Why would they offer such a beneficial claim with us? Why not one of your competitors?”
Tony shrugs a little smugly. “My competitors haven’t been stepping up to bat, lately.”
Peter shakes his head. “I’m serious, Mr Stark. When things or people are too good to be true, they usually are.”
There’s something in his tone. Something...something Tony’s unsure of.
“Did you see anything in the small print that can back up- what is at the moment- just a feeling?”
Peter’s shoulders slump in defeat, and he shakes his head. “No, Sir.” He whispers.
The older man sighs, rubbing at his eyes. Only Pepper or Peter could ever make him feel like this- torn between the rational, sensible option, and listening to their fucking hunches-
“He knows!” A voice outside the door hisses, and both Peter and Tony look up sharply.
“He doesn’t know, Lawson-”
“He must know! Why would he tell us to leave like that? He knows about our deal with Oscorp! I knew Norman couldn’t make this go away, the dirty son-of-a-bitch-”
“There’s no way Stark knows, just calm down-”
The voices disappear again, down the hall, and Tony stares in amazement. Peter just looks earnest. “Do you believe me now, Mr Stark?”
“How the hell did you know?” He whispers, collapsing into one of the chairs.
Peter bites his bottom lip. “Sometimes i just get these feelings,” he says, as he scribbles on the paper in front of him.
Unfortunately, knowing that Lawson has a back door deal with Oscorp is not something that can be easily proven, and when Fury finds out that Tony blew would could be one of the biggest contracts of the year, he reacts with, what is understandably, a lot of anger.
Tony does his best to get Peter to screen all his calls as the two of them work all night to try and find a way to prove what they heard. Tony wants to think that maybe his word will be enough, but Nick’s always been a stickler for the rules and Tony...has not.
Even as absorbed in papers and numbers as he is, Tony can still appreciate Peter here beside him. The kid’s saved him a huge one here. And he’s still here, when he should probably be at home sleeping or watching Netflix, helping Tony try to prove the unprovable. He’s smart and quick and for someone who’s never worked with stocks like this before, he sure knows his way around it.
“Hey,” Peter whispers when it hits three am. “I bet they keep a hard copy of all their emails in a data storage room.”
Tony looks up and rubs the bleariness from his eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Peter breaths, getting to his feet, more energetic now, “a lot of stock companies do it. It’s an automatically backlog, it can stop you getting into a lot of trouble. All we have to go is get in.”
Tony shakes his head, but gets to his feet, knees groaning. “How? I’m the most recognisable face in Wallstreet.”
“But I’m not.” Peter insists, already heading for the door. Tony’s hot on his heels. “I can talk my way in.”
“Not that I doubt your ability, because you’re a Potts, but do you really think you can just waltz in and-”
Yes, as it turns out. Tony just stares in awe as Peter plays the apologetic, desperate intern who just has to get this work done for his brutal boss Norman Osborn. Tony’s hiding behind a potted plant as he watches Peter’s performance. “I’m so sorry,” Peter weeps, eyes shining with tears as the large, female security guard clutches at her heart through her shirt. “I’m such an idiot, and it’s only my first week and I forgot my keycard and- I’m gonna get fired and I deserve it and-”
“Oh, no, honey,” the security guard croons, already unlocking the barrier for him. “No, baby, it is not your fault, okay?”
Peter sniffles, eyes red and smile grateful. “Thank you so much, I-you have no idea what this means to me and-”
She blows him a kiss. “Go, honey. Go.” Peter waves at her, and jogs around the corner.
They have to wait about fifteen minutes till she goes to the bathroom, before Tony runs out and Peter lets him through. “How did you- wait- how did you even unlock the door-”
“I pickpocketed her,” Peter whispers, as they get into the elevator. Tony stares at Peter in shock.
“Shit, kid. Where’d you learn to do that?”
Peter gives him a look. “We’re breaking into one of the most famous companies in the world, Mr Stark. I don’t think now’s the time.”
“Sure- I guess-” Peter grabs his hand and tugs him out of the metal doors as soon as they get to the right floor and shit- how did Peter even know what floor- before Tony knows it, Peter is picking the lock of a storage room and- seriously, what the hell-
and then he’s hacking into a computer and downloading a memory stick onto it.
Tony is staring in slack-jawed awe. “Seriously, Peter.” He whispers, as Peter scans through emails. “What the fuck?”
“Tony,” Peter murmurs, a little irritated, as his eyes flicker across the screen as he scrolls rapidly. “Not the time.”
“Not the time? You- you cried on cue. You knew all this stuff about me, you pick-pocketed her- you got into that locked room, you just hacked into a computer and a memory stick, are you- were you a criminal or something? Like a tech-whiz kid? You can tell me, I won’t judge-”
“I know you won’t,” Peter says softly, and suddenly there’s that doe-eyed, cocky secretary who smirks whenever Tony ends up liking whatever weird type of sushi Peter brings him when he’d insisted he wouldn’t. “But not right now. Later, I promise- ah! Look!”
There’s the email. It’s not explicit, but it’s interaction between Norman and Lawson which can’t easily be dismissed. Peter sends it to the printer and the two of them are waiting for the damn thing to connect, when footsteps sound along the carpeted floor around the corner.
Peter shoves Tony into a stationary closet and Tony watches through the crack as a middle-aged man comes around with a stack of papers to photocopy. The man blinks at the sight of Peter, surprised, and Peter half smiles. “Hey,” he greets casually, and Tony is seriously in awe of this kid’s acting. “All nighter for you too, huh? Osborn’s a real dick.”
The man chuckles, nodding, and comes to join Peter by the printer. “Yeah, I know. I’m Barney,”
Peter takes his hand. “Lucas,” he says easily, “It’s nice to meet you. You couldn’t help, could you? The damn thing’s not working.”
Lucas peers at the printer, and smiles good-naturedly. “You have to enter your user access code.”
Tony pales and if Peter panics at all, he doesn’t show it. “Fuck,” he sighs, smacking his forehead, “I forgot mine. I keep it written down on this post it- shit, I’ll have to run downstairs, unless-” he looks up at Barney hopefully, “I could use yours? Save me the run.”
Barney looks torn. “We’re not supposed to...”
For a second, Tony thinks Peter might pull the same crying act he used with the security guard, but he doesn’t.
Instead, Peter steps forward, lifts his chin and catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth.
Shit. Shit. Tony and Barney are both hypnotised. “Maybe we could forget the printer altogether,” Peter murmurs, his hands drifting to Barney’s belt as he fiddles with the loop. “Working for Norman gets me so stressed, you know? Sometimes you just want some-” he sighs a little, and the sound goes straight to Tony’s dick. “-some stress relief. You ever feel like that, Barney?”
Barney looks utterly besotted, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.
Peter pushes impossibly closer, tilting his head up more. “You can touch me, if you want,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I want you to. Right here.” He grabs one of Barney’s hands and places it on his perfect ass.
Tony’s leaking in his pants.
Barney grunts with desire, grabbing at Peter’s ass gracelessly, his other hand coming to do the same as Peter presses their groins together. “What’s your access code?” He whispers into Barney’s ear, palming at his crotch.
Barney looks like he might cum any second. He’s probably a virgin, Tony thinks. Or maybe Peter is just that hot. Either one is plausible. “A-ah, it-it’s 4598-”
Tony lets out a cry of surprise when Barney falls heavily to the floor.
Peter turns and taps in the code to the printer as Tony bursts out of the closet. “Holy shit,” he whispers, staring at the man. There’s no blood which is...a relief? “Is he dead?”
Peter rolls his eyes as the printer starts chugging out paper. He grins victoriously. “No, Tony, he’s not dead. I don’t kill people. He’s just unconscious.” He gives Tony a look like the older man is acting a bit slow.
There’s a wet spot on Barney’s pants, Tony feels for the guy, but there’s more pressing matters. “Peter, what the fuck, seriously-”
“Oh, come on, Tony.” Peter snaps, whirling on him with righteous indignation. His pupils are blown wide and Tony wants him so bad it hurts, but he’s also- he’s also confused out of his mind. “You’ve known this whole time. What- you think it’s coincidence that all your competitors have been missing meetings? Falling sick? You think these new clients are just falling into your lap? I’ve been doing all of this for you. You know that.”
Jesus Christ. Tony stares. “I-I don’t- how-”
“I like seeing you succeed. It gets me even hotter for you than I already am.”
Tony can’t form words.
“I know you like me too. I’d have to be blind not to- aha!” He lifts the papers happily, all printed and sorted. “As much as I’d love to have you fuck me right here on this printer, we need to leave.”
Tony’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to form words, but fucking Peter is something he’d very much like to do.
“We’re gonna go back to your office, and you can do me right up against the glass, okay?”
Tony has to pinch his arm to not cum right then and there. Peter notices, and smirks, tiptoeing to kiss him lightly.
“Come on, Mr Stark,” he grins, his eyes twinkling with a satisfying mixture of innocence and mischief, as he guides them towards the door. “You have work to do.”
Starker - The Home Invasion Movies Should be About
TW: home invading and mild mild mild knife play.
It’s a dark and stormy night.
Isn’t that how the stories go?
The torrent doesn’t let up, and it beats angrily against the windows of Stark Manor. Tony’s nestled deep in the woods on the slope of the mountains,. On clear days you can see the landscape stretch to the edges of the earth. On dark nights like this, the storm feels worse than it would have in the city. On dark, endless nights like these, Tony reads books of the ancient world by the fire, and wonders whether somewhere out there- someone needs shelter from the rain.
The doorbell rings.
A flash of lightning.
Tony glances up from his book and his bourbon; the firelight dances across his face as he glances at the grandfather clock that tick tock tick tocks soothingly. It’s face is not so reassuring. II it reads, in roman numerals.
2 am. Who’s out and about in the middle of the forest on the side of a mountain in this weather?
Someone who needs shelter.
Tony rises slowly, setting down his book- carefully, so as not to crease the spine, as he walks out of his library and down the stairs.
The rest of the house is a warm glow, and it flashes silver and white every few moments as the lightning strikes pine trees deep in the alcoves of the forest.
Tony reaches the door, and pulls it open.
The frost and the wind and the wet strikes him immediately. He has to blink against its onslaught before he sees a- a young man. Maybe a boy, standing there, shivering, looking very small and vulnerable indeed.
“C-c-could I-I-“ he chatters, hugging himself, and Tony is struck by the honey eyes and the cream skin and he’s nodding, beckoning the fragile thing in- when something else jumps out and there’s red hot pain- and then nothing.
*
He’s not knocked out.
But he is disorientated enough that time seems to pass hazily and he sees colours and feels the bindings of rope against his wrists and ankles as the wind and the cold is shut out.
When he finally gets his bearings, he sees double for a few moments, before making out where he is.
He’s in his library.
For a moment, he wonders if it was all a dream. The fire is lit and roaring heartily, he’s warm and upright- but no, those are binds digging into his skin, and noises too.
Suddenly, a warm pair of honey eyes appears in front of him and he only barely manages not to flinch.
It’s the boy who knocked on his door.
He’s dry now. His hair fluffy and curly and he’s dressed in old furs he must have found in one of the guest rooms. “Hi!” He chirps, beaming, and he looks much less sickly than he did at the door. “I’m Peter. Here-“ he reaches out to dab at the side of Tony’s face and before Tony can recoil, he sees scarlet come away on the handkerchief.
He lets out a small moan of pain, and Peter- the boy/man with nice eyes and a gentle look, smiles sympathetically.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
Peter seems reasonable, Tony thinks. His heart starts to pound. Death doesn’t have to be the endgame here. The boy’s not wearing a mask though, which is…problematic.
“Peter,” comes a snarl, and Tony looks up to see another boy/man. A few years older maybe. Broader, more muscular, the little shit who hit him, come striding over with a number of books tucked under one arm. He yanks Peter away by the wrist and Pter goes easily, a little smile on his face.
“Harley, look! He’s awake-“
“I told you not to get too close.” Harley snaps, his eyes hard, but his look protective. Tony tries to get as much out of the interaction as he can. Harley (and they’ve given their names away. Names and faces. Surely they mean to kill him?) towers over Peter, coarser and better equipped for the life they’re evidently living. Peter nods along easily, like he wants to obey, but he’s still holding the bloody handkerchief neatly in his palm.
Peter pouts, before giggling. “Did you find it?”
Harley softens, releasing him, and setting down the books on the bronze table. At least he isn’t tossing them into the fire, Tony thinks. Small mercies. “No. Bastard probably hid it under a false title.”
“What is it,” Tony begins, wetting his lips and trying to keep his voice from sounding so hoarse, “you’re looking for exactly?”
Both eyes flicker to him. Harley’s are light blue, but there’s no sympathy in them. Tony will get no aid from him. “You wouldn’t know, old man.”
Tony tries his bounds as discreetly as he can and tries to sound brave. “Try me. You break into my house, go through my belongings, don’t you think I deserve the courtesy?”
Peter looks between Tony and Harley curiously, before skipping off into the shadows of the library, evidently bored with this conversation. “Your house?” Harley repeats, amusement evident in his voice, and Tony gets the feeling that the boy knows something he doesn’t. “You just inherited this. This manor isn’t yours and these books aren’t yours either. There are secrets that your father hid that you will never even be close to fathoming. Understand?”
Tony nods, because Harley looks a little manic. “So, you’re going to search the manor, take it, and go? That’s it? And I won’t even realise it’s missing, so- no harm no foul, right?” He thinks about the pain blossoming on his head, and winces just a little. If this was all they wanted, why not come when he wasn’t home? Or do they know him so well to know he never leaves? That he’s so scared of the outside that he shelters and stocks up and-
Harley leans back, shrugging. “If you let it be that easy, it’s that easy.”
Tony doesn’t believe him. But he has the sneaking feeling that Peter does. Peter probably thinks Tony’s going to be let out of this alive, but Harley must know better.
The blond shrugs again, before disappearing into the library to keep checking.
As soon as he’s gone, Peter reappears.
He’s just as pretty as he was before, and this time, he’s holding a silver dagger.
Tony stares at him. Peter smiles, impish and adorable, and completely wrong and he trails the fine blade point across his own cheek. “You know what I think?” Peter whispers, and Tony swallows hard. That’s the decorative blade set on the bookcase in the smaller, no less grand, section of the library. It’s just a decoration, probably not even that sharp, probably- Peter leans in, and his sweet breath fans over Tony’s face, “I don’t think Howard hid the book in the library.”
Tony wonders what it is they’re looking for exactly. But he goes with it. “No? The library’s a pretty ingenious hiding place.”
Peter smiles, his nose scrunches just a little and it wouldn’t look out of place in a Hallmark Movie. “It’s too obvious. Anyone with half a brain cell would think the library,” his voice drops a little, derisive in tone, “of course Harley thinks he’s a genius coming up with it. Idiot.” He rolls his eyes.
Tony doesn’t know what’s happening. He wanted to get Peter on side, play them against each other, but the boy is offering himself up in a way that’s too obvious. And there’s the fucking knife-
“Your dad spent a lot of time in this library, I bet,” Peter muses, and idly traces the blade across Tony’s bound forearm. It’s gentle. Feather soft. Just the way he was doing to his own face. Tony tries not to move, but he also tries not to show any fear.
He remembers his father. He remembers the library door always being locked as Howard holed himself up inside. It’s why Tony spends all his time in here now. “Yeah,” he croaks out, “he did.”
Peter beams at him, and reaches over to kiss his cheek like Tony’s just performed a new trick. “Good,” he praises effusively, and Tony tries not to keen (god, what’s wrong with him? Is he this desperate for approval, that-) “Where did Howard spend no time at all? What was a room in the house you never saw him go to? Or a room he seemed to just hate-“
The memory that’s triggered is one Tony hadn’t even known he’d remembered. It’s of Howard, sneering at Tony and his friends as cigar smoke fanned out around them- 16 and pretentious and playing billiards and poker with rules they didn’t fully understand-
“The billiards room,” he whispers, and Peter’s eyes light up. The fire dances in his irises.
“Your house is just like a game of Clue,” Peter giggles, and then he’s using the dagger to slice through the ropes like butter, and tucking it into the pocket of the fur coat.
He takes Tony’s hand and threads their fingers together, pulling Tony up out of the chair. Tony can’t find his voice. He can’t find his words. But suddenly Peter is pressed up against him, warm and tempting when he- when he shouldn’t be, and those lips are whispering into the shell of his ear-
“Show me where the billiards room is,”
Tony nods uselessly.
He doesn’t know if this is part of the game, part of the elaborate plan, or if Peter really is planning a double cross here. He doesn’t know if this is his chance, or the end of the line.
But Peter’s hand is warm and confident, and for the first time, for some unfathomable reason-
The storm doesn’t seem quite so scary. In fact, with Peter and his knife and the fur coat- he thinks maybe he’s found a protector. And there’s a lot Tony needs protecting from.
Lightning strikes as he leads the way, and Tony doesn’t flinch at all.
