(beyond) Space & Time
Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit Summary:
Peter Parker is a straight laced research assistant making his way through his Master's degree at Stanford in California. MJ insisting he head to a frat party puts him directly in the path of Tony Stark, an Italian Exchange student at Stanford on a basketball scholarship. Many cute things ensue.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24030814
And to think – it all started at a party.
Peter Parker didn’t do a lot of things – he couldn’t walk by storm drains after watching Billy’s brother getting his arm ripped off It, there weren’t tomatoes in his house because he didn’t eat them, and most importantly – he didn’t go to parties. Spending most of his college career under the age of 21 gave him every opportunity to politely pass up people’s invitations out to bars for weekly cohort drinks, or to clubs to dance with MJ when she was feeling the need to get out and just move. The ability to control himself was very important – so important, in fact, he’d never drank a single sip of booze in his life. One story about a drunk driver and how they took his parents and that was it – the stuff didn’t need to be in his life. And yet – he still found himself outside of a frat house, his hands stuffed into his pockets in what he hoped to be an unsightly pout.
Since meeting MJ, Peter started to do a lot of things he didn’t normally do. There was something about the girl that said carefree and for whatever reason, Peter wanted to feel that whenever she was around. So when she plopped down on the edge of his couch earlier that day, Peter knew he was in for some trouble. Especially because he hadn’t let her into his place himself, she’d been trying different ways of breaking in for weeks now and today was the first time he hadn’t caught her in the act. “It’s about time, Peter Parker,” she said to him a little bit later, her arms crossed staring a hole through him. She mentioned the Pi Kappa Alpha party like that was a normally attended shindig for the two of them. Well, it was for MJ – but Peter never tagged along. He always had the excuse of being too young, or too busy, but neither of those held up now. Just last week he turned 21 and for the first time all summer, he did not have any research or teaching duties – so he technically was free for the evening. The idea of spending it around a mass of drunk college kids didn’t seem like the best way let it pass – but once MJ got an idea in her head, she couldn’t be stopped.
Which is why, two hours later, Peter found himself standing outside of Pi Kappa Alpha, dressed in his tightest pair of black jeans, a blue and red flannel, and red canvas vans – the look one a part of his everyday life, the one thing he would not allow MJ to have any control over whatsoever. No matter how many times she tried to pull a shirt from his closet or run her fingers through his hair, Peter did not relent. If he was being forced to attend this stupid thing, he was at least going to feel comfortable in his own skin. Besides, he knew he looked good – at least, he thought he looked good, anyhow. He figured, through all the chaos and drunkenness happening around him, there wouldn’t be too many people noticing the style (or lack thereof) of his outfit – there were bound to be better things to be worried about.
He tried to turn away only once, his heart was hammering too hard against the front of his chest, his blood pressure was surely much higher than normal, or even healthy. A hand on his forearm stopped him just before he convinced himself to start walking in the other direction. “Dude, you’ve got this. Go in, mingle – document the weirdness of the human population if you have to. Just – give it a chance, okay? Something tells me you’re going to have a lot more fun than you think.” MJ pinched his cheek and wrapped her own arm through his, the girl smirking in his direction. “Don’t make me drag you in there. You know I will,” she mumbled just loud enough for Peter to hear, her hand tightening on his arm. Peter shook his head and shrugged – that was his one chance, now he’d have to face the music.
That very music ended up being very loud, very bass heavy pop that Peter couldn’t ever remember hearing – though, his music knowledge was not vast, his preferences leaned much more towards heavy rock and acoustic covers. Walking into to the blast of all that bass made Peter stumble, his poor ears not ready for the overwhelming thump that would overtake them. Of course he’d eat shit two seconds into his first frat party experience – there wasn’t much else that could be more embarrassing. Yet, instead of hitting his face on the dirty floor – he hated to think about what might actually be on that floor – Peter smacked into the solid side of another, admittedly warm, human being. His breath caught in his throat, Peter both shocked and appalled by the sequence of events unfolding in front of him. After a second of getting his bearings, Peter felt a bit more capable of keeping his shit together. He looked up at his savior and his breath caught – what kind of person deserved to be that attractive?
The man standing before him had to be one of the most attractive people he’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been much older than Peter himself – his face still soft with youth, though dignified all the same. His chestnut hair was on the longer side, the strands swept into a messy swoop that should’ve felt disorganized, but didn’t – the style probably meticulously done, instead. His lips were turned up in a smile that brought the most endearing crinkles to the sides of his cheeks. Peter felt himself staring, taking in all the details of the person standing in front of him and couldn’t bring himself to care. If this guy was determined to look that good, he could deal with the consequential stares that were bound to ensue. He took another minute to catalogue all of the finer surface things of this stranger before he let himself make eye contact with his savior. “I um – thanks. For saving me,” Peter lamely supplied, his cheeks warm from the roaring blush that was savagely making his face redder by the second.
The handsome stranger didn’t get a chance to reply – MJ yanked Peter away swiftly, her hand tightening on his arm once she managed to get a handle on him again. “Do you know who that was?” MJ asked, her voice loud to be heard above the music still making his head swim. “No, I don’t think so – I would remember seeing him,” Peter replied stupidly, his head turning over his shoulder every few steps – the stranger still slightly in view, a smirk on his face. “That’s Tony Stark – Italian dude, star point guard, self-proclaimed heartbreaker. That dopey look you were giving him – that’s not good, Peter. He’s no good.” Her words held so much finality – but she couldn’t be talking about the man he’d just seen. There seemed to be so much in those dark eyes, a whole lifetime full of secrets in those depths. Peter instantly felt a connection – MJ couldn’t possibly right. “Are you sure? He looked so – devastating.” Peter mumbled out the word, his fingers moving restlessly through his hair while he did.
MJ didn’t have much to say after that – she snorted and let the topic drop. She’d been around him enough to know he wasn’t easily dissuaded – especially when something caught his interest. He wasn’t at school as a research assistant and aide for nothing – learning and finding out new things were a specialty of his. He looked over his shoulder a couple more times, but the guy had moved on. Peter shook his head and shrugged – maybe it was for the best, anyway. He let MJ drag him into the living room that was doubling as the dance floor and pull him into a cluster of people. Peter didn’t recognize the music, but it had a good beat and the past dancer in him got caught in following it. It’d been a long time since he let himself be this carefree. More than a couple songs past and Peter was finally ready to be doing anything other than sweating. Turning around, he noticed a lack of MJ’s presence and laughed to himself. He remembered a mention of Liz and getting a drink – she left him to his own devices, true Michelle Jones style.
The sweat sticking to his skin had him undoing another one of the buttons on his flannel, the sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the material there drenched. Noticing his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, Peter walked back into what he hoped was the kitchen to find something to quench his thirst. The noise level seemed to have doubled in the short period of time between arriving and dancing – the whole place seemed to be thumping with the music at the front of the house. He thankfully got through the masses unscathed and spotted a punch bowl – his mouth watering just thinking about a soothing liquid. Grabbing the first cup he saw, Peter went to dip it into the punch when a hand stopped him – the grip was firm and sure, the fingers light in the way they dug into the skin of his wrist. “You don’t want to drink that,” the guy, his handsome stranger from before – Tony Stark – said to him.
“And why might that be? The purple of that punch is a real selling point,” Peter quipped back, his hands turning slightly, inadvertently giving Tony’s finger more access to his skin. It burnt – the length of pale skin stretching right under the press of Tony’s fingers. The man’s touch felt like fire – like hot rays of sun radiating on a hot day. “Because – you would be on your ass after a couple of sips. There’s so much alcohol in that – you’ll end up with your pants on your head and the whole night completely down the drain. Your pants look much better right where they are.” The stranger was pulling the cup from his grasp before he knew it, the fingers on his wrist now gone – though the ghost of their touch resided in the warm trails left there, his skin forever changed.
“Oh, well – thanks, then. I mean, again. For saving me. That’s twice now, stranger. What do I call you?” Peter asked, his mind supplying that this was in fact Tony Stark – but he felt compelled to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Many times, MJ imparted wisdom and not all of it was successful. Never before did Peter hope so much that this was the case. The brown eyes staring at him were so deep, filled with so much – there had to be something behind that, something worth finding out about.
He watched Tony look surprised, then recover quickly, his smile never fading. “I’m Tony Stark. Most people just call me Stark,” Tony answered his question, his hand shooting out between them. “And you, how do people refer to you?” His hand was warm and big when Peter met it with his own, his last two fingers were a little crooked and pressed against his own funnily – but they spoke of hard work, each pad Peter could feel covered in a rough callous. “Peter – Peter Parker. My aunt calls me Petey, but that’s because she’s terribly embarrassing,” Peter finally replied, his hand holding onto Tony’s a moment longer – a moment too long, probably – before letting go.
He dragged his tongue out to wet his lips and suddenly remembered the thirst – the dryness of his mouth from the collective excitement of dancing on a sticky floor and meeting one of the handsomest men on the planet was startingly hard to deal with, and a bit distracting. “Since that’s not fit to drink, can you point me to something that is? I just danced my ass off and I’m feeling a little thirsty,” Peter uselessly pointed to his mouth, his throat so dry – and did he mention how thirsty he was? Tony smirked and nodded, thrusting his finger over his shoulder for emphasis. “Yeah, follow me. I know where they keep the good stuff.”
It should’ve made him feel embarrassed, the fact that Tony brought him into the kitchen and poured Sunny D from the big container in the fridge into his red plastic cup – but it didn’t. He felt himself break out into a grin, a laugh bubbling from his chest. When their fingers brushed as Tony handed him the cup back, Peter held on for a second letting the heat intoxicate him once more. “Thanks, this is just what I needed,” Peter muttered, holding the cup up in cheers and downing more than half of it in a gulp. Holy fuck, that shit always tasted good. Peter felt Tony watch him, the man’s eyes climbing all over him – the stare recognizable, Peter himself so guilty of doing that time and time again. The other man was looking at him like something interesting, roving his eyes over all his parts and pieces – trying to make them fit. A sharp red flushed his cheeks at the thought – the silly thought that Tony Stark could find him interesting.
Tony topped him up and led him up the stairs to a second-floor balcony – the space thankfully empty and missing at least half of the pulsing beat of the rest of the house. The fact that they were alone was not lost on Peter. He was thankful for the break in all the craziness and honestly more comfortable than he’d been the whole evening. The summer was slowly coming to an end, but the sticky mugginess of the California night held fast – the heat probably sticking around until mid-November if they were lucky. Tony leaned against the wooden railing overlooking the ground below them, his drink dangling from his fingers. Peter watched him for a second before joining him, the Sunny D in his cup jostling when he rested his arms against the railing.
“Tell me about yourself, Peter Parker. What are you doing here in Stanford, California?” Tony said out of the blue. Now that they weren’t having to shout, he could pick up a tiny hint of an Italian accent, the lilt at the end of his words just barely there. His heart fluttered a bit when he first heard it – could the man get any fucking hotter? Disguising his inner freak-out, Peter took a drink to settle down before answering, the Sunny D truly a perfect beverage for the moment. “I’m here on a full ride scholarship finishing up my M.S in Cell and Molecular Engineering. I’m a research assistant and pick up classes whenever they need me to. I’m here trying to get smarter, Tony Stark. Why are you here? What is it that makes you tick?” Peter asked the question genuinely, his hands fiddling nervously with the cup in his hand, his eyes seeking out the other’s in the dark.
They locked eyes and Tony smirked at him – that particular facial expression an obvious regular for the other man. “I play basketball. I came here from Italy four years ago to start as point guard and learn all there is to know about American culture. I’m surprised we’ve never ran into each other before now. This’ll be my fifth year and I’ll be finishing up my M.S. in Biomechanical Engineering. Do you do research with Hess over in D-Building?” Tony turned his head to look at him fully, his eyes actually interested – those orbs so expressive, so willing to say what the man couldn’t. Peter felt himself getting lost in the stare, lost in the fact that this guy was not only amazingly attractive but smarter than hell – probably smarter than him, even. Biomechanics was no fucking joke. If he wasn’t already falling for the guy, well – he couldn’t deny that he was now.
“I do, yeah – I spent all of last semester over there. It was little crazy for a while, I was the only assistant and we were balls deep in the most labor intensive part of the research,” Peter replied absently, the man forgetting to rein in all the nerd – Tony seemed like the type of person who could keep up, or at least pretend to. He watched the basketball player huff out a laugh, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Yeah – actually, that was my fault. I was supposed to be there, but I ended up having some family stuff happen. I did most of this last semester back home.” Tony slumped his shoulders slightly, then shuffled a bit to press one of them firmly into Peter’s side. “Sorry about that, Petey,” the other man mumbled, his eyes boring into Peter like they wanted to dig down deep within him. The nickname sounded different on Tony’s lips and he wanted more than anything to close the distance between them. He could feel his chest hitch – the ghost of Tony’s breath barely catching the skin of his cheek. “It’s – you’ll just have to make it up to me, huh? You do all the dirty work this semester,” Peter replied, his words chocked off when he felt Tony leaning forward – the impending kiss happening – and then, not.
The balcony floor shook, and the door suddenly hammered open, a handful of people flying out into the space. “Fuck, here you are! There’s a fight. Ken can’t keep his shit together. We need you, Stark,” one of the guys said – his lanky arms gesturing wildly, all of the guys behind him nodding enthusiastically in agreement. Tony let out a huff – his fingers noticeably tightening on the beer bottle in his hand. He looked over at Pete and shot him a sorry look, his thumb already gesturing over his shoulder. “Catch you on the flip side, Parker,” Tony threw over his shoulder while being passed and pushed through the door – six dudes vying for his attention all at once, the echo of voices the loudest sound of the evening. Peter kept himself turned until he couldn’t hear the thundering herd, his head spinning from the multitude of things that just happened all in the span of what felt like two seconds. Dipping his head, Peter let it hang between his shoulders for a second before pulling himself together, downing the rest of the liquid in the cup, and making a hasty exit.
----
The last few days that remained of the summer went pretty quickly after that. Peter got himself caught up with the last few things he needed to turn in for his summer school class and spent the remaining days of complete freedom sitting in his boxer-briefs watching Netflix and eating whatever takeout he could acquire that day. His last year of his master’s program was going to be a rough one, he knew that. His advisor prepped him for all of the duties he’d need to carry out to finish his thesis and research responsibilities. He wanted to get into the doctoral program at NYU so much and needed his last year to go flawlessly. Which meant being lazy wouldn’t be an option – so he wanted to take advantage of getting to sit around in his underwear while he still had the chance. Of course, he didn’t get to dodge MJ for very long after the party – the woman demanded he discuss his conversation with Tony Stark in detail, many, many, many times so they could dissect it. She still seemed a bit weary, his reputation so loud across campus, but he could see her starting to warm up – the warmth in Peter’s voice was a hard thing to ignore, he knew that.
It shouldn’t have surprised him then, when he walked into Hess’s research lab the first day of the semester to find a smiling Tony Stark sitting at the open desk across from him. Peter couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips when those well calloused hands waved at him in greeting, a goofy smile on the other man’s face – the look absolutely contagious and too powerfully cute for its own good. Pete deposited his sling bag on the floor next to his chair and settled into it – his body relaxing in the familiar territory. Funnily, the lab, school even, felt way more like home than the small apartment he had to himself. Lazy days were never not enjoyed – but he missed the lab way more than he cared to admit. “How’d that fight end up turning out?” Peter asked, feeling settled down enough to take on whatever Tony had to throw his way. “Terrible, I’m afraid. We had 6AMs for the rest of the week. You’d think they’d learn – but they never do,” Tony said, gesturing around him, his hands running through his hair more than once. Oh boy, Peter thought to himself – he was in a lot of fucking trouble. His stomach felt fluttery and hot, like butterflies were trying to fly away from the molten lava of his insides. Tony Stark just might be the death of him if a simple exchange like this made his brain turn to mush.
They settled in to work not long after that, Peter pleasantly surprised by how much Tony knew and how proficient he was in just about everything they did around the lab. The lost year didn’t make much of an impact, something Peter begrudgingly had to admit that he was happy about – having to train someone new and keep up with all the work poured on so much anxiety over the summer, but Tony was the perfect lab partner – the fact that he looked absolutely adorable in lab goggles didn’t play into that decision, either. After that first day, Peter hoped more than anything that this would continue, and Tony’s presence would be the key to some ease in the homestretch of all the hard work he hoped to culminate into something worthwhile for him and the rest of the world. It was satisfying to know his instincts were right, that despite what Tony wanted people to see, there were things he couldn’t hide. Things like his huge brain and quick wit, his soft disposition and cute natural habits.
When they finished up for the day, Peter was surprised to feel Tony keep up with him as they walked out of the lab, the man a touch shorter, but obviously used to striding with people much taller than him. “Since we’re going to be at this all year, we should probably exchange numbers – get to know each other a little bit,” Tony said after a minute, his hand reaching out to stop Peter before they got further down into the swell of students. Peter turned to face him, a soft smile on his lips. “You’re absolutely right, do you like coffee or tea? This is critical to the survival of our partnership.” Peter spoke with a laugh in his voice, his hand reaching out to grab Tony’s phone. He luckily had it open, so he put his number into a text and sent it to himself. “I like coffee, as black as you can make it. Does that pass your little test?” Tony got out after a minute, those dark eyes watching him much like the last time together – curiously, trying to absorb as much as they could. “Sure did. Hess is stingy about his coffee supplies. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to kick your ass for all the sugar,” Peter winked before turning away from Tony, his next class starting in less minutes than he now had to get there.
Halfway through his class, his phone buzzed, the same number from before flashing on his screen. He shook his head and tried to ignore it, but the second buzz had him pulling it out of his pocket. Saving the number first, Peter finally let himself glance over the messages.
Tony Stark [1:21PM]: First, why do you think you can kick my ass? Tony Stark [1:22PM]: Second, is it weird that I want to see you try?
Peter stopped himself from laughing with a sharp hand over his mouth. They were in the middle of something he covered in his independent study last semester, so he felt familiar enough with the material to slack off a little. He watched for the professor to turn back towards his materials before looking at the text, his smile bright in the reflection on the screen.
Peter Parker [!:25PM]: I’m good at physics. I’ll just use all your jock force against you. Peter Parker [1:26PM]: Nope. I think you like me. I bet you want to see me try lots of things.
His cheeks colored, the obvious flirtation staring him in the face – those texts probably the boldest he could ever remember himself being. His thumb hovered over the send button, Peter having to force himself to actually press his finger down. He let out a soft breath and let his eyes roam around the classroom. There wouldn’t be any more paying attention to the lecture. Any concentration left was not currently anywhere near his brain. A finger tapped against the top of his screen while he waited impatiently – the little dots popping up the biggest tease, the scariest and most exciting thing he’d experienced in a while. He felt the vibration this time, the movement of the phone kick starting an errant beat of his heart.
Tony Stark [1:31PM]: Hello, fellow smart guy, here. I’ll just use your big head against you! Tony Stark [!:33PM]: I can’t deny either of those statements. The thing I really find myself wanting you to try is going out with me – how do you feel about that?
The surprise of those words had Peter looking around wildly – the man assuming that everyone else felt that shift in the universe, too. They all looked at peace, though, the mass either diligently taking notes or staring out over the vast edge, completely overtaken by that spacey feeling of not paying attention. His mouth felt a little dry, his body’s natural fight or flight reactions becoming increasingly annoying. Luckily, he remembered to put his water bottle in his backpack that morning before taking off, Peter pulling it out with triumph to take a couple long swigs. With his tongue less like sandpaper, he looked back at the screen – his eyes bulging seeing the last text again. Would wonders ever cease?
Peter Parker [1:39PM]: You wish. Either way, the point is moot. You have the least interesting coffee order. Peter Parker [1:40PM]: I feel like that might be something I’d be up for trying. What did you have in mind?
He forced himself to turn the phone over and ignore the three buzzes that shook his table slightly for the rest of class. Which, luckily, turned out to only be another ten minutes. If anything was going to happen, and there was no one there saying (or wishing) that something would happen – but IF something did, Peter already knew he couldn’t let anything get in the way of school. His being able to pay the rest of his schooling and finish relied solely on his performance. That couldn’t flounder, no matter what happened in his personal life. A little serious for the first date, he thought to himself, but necessary – totally necessary.
Impatience had him pulling the phone from his pocket when he got out of the building and into the fresh air, the renewed sense of freedom washing over him in a lot of ways – the wind in his hair feeling good for once.
Tony Stark [1:50PM]: Or the most interesting. When I tell people about it, it’s always a conversation starter. I’m either the most boring person or the smartest. However you want to look at it. Tony Stark [1:51PM]: How do you feel about physical activity? Tony Stark [1:51PM]: Hiking, specifically.
He couldn’t hold in a chuckle, Tony’s scenario obviously one the man encountered, probably more often then he cared to admit. There were so many things to this guy, this guy who was so insanely charming and funny, a guy who was a huge nerd wrapped up in cool guy skin. Peter doubted many people got to see this side of sports star Tony Stark – the public used to something a little more cool and a lot less normal and geeky like the man seemed to actually be. It made sense, though. From what he’d seen, Tony liked to leave an air of mystery around himself, keeping people on their toes half of the fun for him. Not so much with Peter – but he was a lot smarter than most people.
Peter Parker [1:55PM]: Only you would take constant opposition as a conversation starter. You’re something else, Tony Stark. Peter Parker [1:56PM]: I like physical activity. & I’m originally from Queens, hiking is a luxury. I’d be game. I’m sure there are tons of this pretty place we’re living in I haven’t seen yet. Peter Parker [1:57PM]: Will you be feeding me, also? I have a hefty appetite.
Tony Stark [2:01PM]: I am, you’re right. I’m sure I’ll prove that over and over again the more we’re together. Tony Stark [2:02PM]: I’m assuming that’s your wordy way of saying yes. Windy Hill Open Space Preserve is a good hike and a cool view. Do you have class tomorrow morning? We could catch the sunrise. Tony Stark [2:04 PM]: Of course. I know the best breakfast spot.
Peter Parker [2:10PM]: The more we’re together. I like the sound of that. Peter Parker [2:11PM]: I should have known you were a morning person. I do, but not until the evening. I can do a sunrise. We’ll beat the heat, too. Peter Parker [2:13PM]: Breakfast is my favorite. Good call, Mr. Stark.
Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Yeah, me too. A lot, actually. Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It’s the quietest part of the day. Reminds me of home no matter where I am. I’ll pick you up. Tony Stark [2:20PM]: I’m going to remember both things in this text message. Keep that Mr. Stark in your pocket for later.
The text exchange filled the rest of Peter’s walk back to his apartment. His cheeks were burning from the mixture of affection and heat from the stupidly gooey smile he’d been unable to detach from since this whole thing started. He couldn’t remember the last time a text message made him feel the way he did, or when he’d sent more than a handful of text messages to another human. MJ preferred the phone and Aunt May was one of little words. She always kept their check-in conversations brief. Peter figured she would miss him too much if she let herself spend too much time with him – the distance was a lot for them both. He set the phone down after snorting at the last text message – a heat in his belly starting to pool, all of the drips into the core of him branded with Tony Starks name.
----
Making sure they saw the sunset meant waking up around 5AM. Along with going out with another human person, Peter couldn’t place the last time he got up before 8AM. He flourished in the later hours of the day; his brain ripe for the picking right around midnight – the many research papers he’d written in the middle of the night a testament of that. The alarm blaring surprised him and the second time he hit snooze, he hastily remembered he needed coffee if he wished to be a functioning person before Tony got there are 5:30. Peter blinked the sleep from his eyes and threw himself into the shower stall, hoping to whatever was up there that a little hot water on his head would jump start his system. He allowed himself a couple minutes of just standing there, his eyes closed, the warm water hitting his skin making the flesh prickle. He ran a bar of soap hastily over himself and got out – his head a little less fuzzy, though his body didn’t feel any less tired. The beauty of the Nescafe had a steaming hot cup of coffee in his travel mug in no time, his eyes on the iWatch on his wrist – a sense of triumph overcoming him when he saw he had two whole minutes to spare.
Most of his physical activity came in the form of walking to and from campus and the boxing classes he took ever Friday night. Getting lost in the rhythmic thump of his fists on the bag kept him going some weeks and the safety he felt from at least knowing he could smack the fuck out of someone helped him cope with being on his own so far from home. Needless to say, he probably wasn’t nearly as athletic as Tony, but could probably hold his own. Lost in his thoughts, he startled when he heard the knock on his door, Peter seriously surprised he didn’t get the usual ‘I’m here’ text treatment that most people their age were accustomed to. Fiddling with his pockets, Peter check to make sure his epi-pen was there before grabbing his keys and backpack. It was now or never.
Peter wondered if he’d ever stop feeling taken aback by the way Tony looked. The man had a goofy dad hat on his head, the man decked out in all sorts of Stanford issued shit – the stupid tree on his hat making the thing look even more tacky – endearing to the fucking core. “Hey, Pete,” Tony said, his voice rich – the early morning obviously not a problem for the athlete. “Hey yourself. The bright eye, bushy tailed thing should piss me off, but with that goofy ass hat on, I can’t make myself be mad at you. I just want to chuckle and poke your cheek,” Peter supplied, his hand pressing briefly to the apple of Tony’s cheek. “You shouldn’t be allowed to look this good so early.” Peter pulled his hand away with a soft brush of the pads of his fingers over the arch of Tony’s cheekbone. He didn’t get to pull his hand away, though – Tony catching it with his own, a kiss being pressed to the meat of his palm. “I’m just happy to see you.”
He shook his head, the other seriously too damn cute for his own good. They quickly settled into the Jeep Wrangler – the top missing and bracketed with a rack obviously well used if the scuffs on the surface were to be believed. The wind in his face on the highway kept him from drifting back to the edge of sleepy. Tony didn’t talk much, the sounds of his voice carrying when he’d pick up a bit of the song to sing or make a quip about something they drove by. Pete kept himself pressed to the seat and enjoyed – the view of the surroundings passing them much more interesting without so much of the car blocking his view. It was still pretty dark, the dusky glow around them adding to the mystery of all of this – the mystery of Tony and what was in store for the two of them. The preserve came into view right when the sky started to lighten, the pinks mingling in the darkness, a purple overtaking the horizon where the sun would sit in the next little while. Tony hopped out first, the grace of the move keeping Peter’s attention more than he cared to admit. He clumsily got out of the car, the seatbelt holding him captive for a second longer than he would’ve liked.
The trailhead opened up and led to a couple different pathways around the preserve. Tony shouldered him to the right, the path thankfully more paved than not – a fact his ankles were more than a little happy about. They seemed to be two of a handful of people navigating their way around, so they held back a little bit to put some distance between them and the others. “Tell me more about Italy. I did a semester abroad, but we didn’t get to spend much time doing anything other than going to class. I never got to Florence like I wanted to,” They were slowly making their way to a spot they could see the entirety of the sky, their shoulders brushing every couple of steps. “My mother grew up on one of the Phlegraen Islands in Naples. We moved back there to be with my grandparents when it was 4. I spent many summers on the water, helping my Papa fish and run his business. I got into travel basketball to see more of the country and then it led me here. I’m a dual citizen, my father, who I don’t know, lives in New York – so I’ll probably stay here after college, but Italy will always be home.”
Peter let Tony’s words wash over him, the details slotting into place, creating the picture he’d been slowly painting of the other man – each new thing he learned making him like that look more and more. “That sounds like another world. I grew up in Queens with my aunt – I went to a science focused magnet school and competed on the scholastic bowl team. The most exciting thing to happen to me was getting into Stanford – the world is a lot bigger than my little neighborhood. There’s no bodegas around here, though – I hate having to ride into Palo Alto just to get milk.” Peter felt himself rambling and ended with a smile, his cheeks red with a blush not just from the physical exertion. They’d been hiking for a while, though – he could feel the distance in his calves. Like he was reading his mind, Tony lead them to a small little clearing, a collection of rocks the best makeshift seats they could’ve stumbled upon.
Tony handed him a water bottle, their fingers brushing on the exchange. Pete could feel his cheeks heat a little more, his eyes drooping slightly with a rush of lust from the touch. The sneaky caress of a crush he couldn’t help made his heart beat a little faster, too – the thought of more touches from the other something he could totally get behind, even this soon after getting to know each other. He was no blushing virgin – he knew want when he felt it. Taking a big gulp of the water, he stared over Tony’s shoulder at the sky getting lighter by the minute. A part of him wished he had an artistic bone in his body – the vision of Tony’s silhouette being outlined by the rising sun deserved to be documented. Quickly, before he could spook the other man, he pulled out his phone and took a picture – the serene look well worth the middle finger he got when Tony noticed what he was doing. “Sorry, too good a view to miss,” Peter mumbled, his eyes trained on the soft smile in the picture. What a beautiful fucking human.
Those now familiar calloused fingertips against his knee pulled his focus from the picture, eyes instead narrowing in on the breathtaking look on Tony’s face. There wasn’t much time between noticing Tony’s gorgeousness and getting kissed, Peter completely blown away by both things – the kiss more so than anything. “You look really fucking cute when you get lost in your head,” Tony mumbled, a couple of the words formed on his lips. Pete didn’t try to stop his eyes from slipping shut – his entire body felt on fire, he needed a second to get his shit together. The feel of those lips on his again had him blinking – a look of mischief in Tony’s eye when he pulled away. “I like you, Peter Parker.” His calloused fingers wrapped around his own, their hands tangling together seamlessly. That sunrise was one of the best ones he’d ever seen – the thumb rubbing circles on his skin having absolutely nothing to do with it.
Their hike back down was as uneventful as the way up. The only change was the way their hands didn’t break from each other – Tony timing his strides to match perfectly with Peter’s. It didn’t make sense, feeling this carefree with someone he barely knew, yet – it was easy, and who was he to look easy in the mouth? His fingers tightened, squeezing Tony’s with a small look of affection sent his way. “When does basketball get busy for you? I think I’d like to watch you play. I’ve honestly never been to a game,” Peter filled the silence easily. “Games start up in November. The practice season is pretty much here, though. We’ll start our stupid lifting schedule next week, actually.” Tony let his hand go when they got to the car, the other entering into his space to press a kiss to his cheek. “I would like it very much if you came to watch me play, Petey.” The words had their desired effect, his skin broke out in goosebumps – his breath hitching at the feeling of those goosebumps moving down his neck, across his back, and along his arms.
Pete let the ease of the drive calm him down some, his mind hoping from place to place trying to take all of the things from this morning and remember them – to package them up nicely and deposit them into the room he opened with Tony Stark on the door. He let the lull of Taking Back Sunday and Tony butchering the lyrics relax him back into the seat, the edge of sleepy catching up to him now that he’d used all the adrenaline from earlier. The comfort between them was tangible, thriving in the small space of the Wrangler’s cab. A hand on his leg woke him up, Peter unaware of how long they’d been driving. Looking around, he felt a little confused about the suburban nature of their destination. “This is my house. I make the best breakfast. I assumed you knew what I meant when I said that,” Tony added, his eyes soft, the brown orbs roaming over him like he’d gotten used to in the past couple of days – taking him in.
It turned out to be the best breakfast ever, too. He’d been slightly surprised to see Tony’s place to be on the right side of tidy – the most mess coming from the drafting desk that held all of Tony’s school things. Peter couldn’t claim to be quite as clean and felt a bit of pride unfold in his chest. His instincts were proving right. Soon, Peter watched from a bar stool as Tony prepared a frittata and peach-strawberry smoothies, the two of them sucking on the sugary drinks while the egg dish cooked in the oven. “Where’d you learn how to cook?” Peter asked, his lips puckering with an oncoming brain freeze. “My ma – she can make anything taste good. Said you just needed to put yourself in it and it’ll be amazing. The older I got, the more she divulged her recipes, but she always claimed that was the secret,” Tony pulled the food from the over while he talked, the man obviously comfortable in the confines of the elegant marble counters.
They did the dishes side by side, Peter drying the plates Tony handed him assembly line style – the other man didn’t like to use his dishwasher if he didn’t have to. The comfortability between them made the transition from the kitchen into Tony’s bedroom pretty seamless. Peter honestly couldn’t remember how they got from their perch against the sink where Tony first kissed him to the comfort of the huge California king, the mattress way better than the hand-me-down Queen he sequestered from his last move. The how’s and why’s quickly didn’t matter, the press of Tony’s firm chest against his own becoming overwhelming – there wasn’t any more room for another thought in his brain. The nerve endings of his skin felt like they were on fire – Tony’s hands on him moving with an urgency that spoke of exploration and excitement. His stomach tightened when Tony found a ticklish spot and dug into it, the weight of his body pinning Peter to the bed surprisingly attractive. The giggles slipping from his lips were less than stellar, but he figured Tony didn’t mind – the other man’s laughter matched his own, the sound surrounding them in the quiet of the night.
Peter finally understood what it felt like to have those calloused fingers wrapped around him, Tony settling their hips together when the pass of Peter’s precum dripping dick against the length of his thigh was too much. Watching Tony throw his head back distractedly and let out a broken moan just about brought Pete to his knees – the vulnerability in the action mesmerizing, pulling him in as the seconds passed. The grip of Tony’s hand around them both was tight, the slide made easy by the copious amounts of fluid leaking from Pete’s tip. Each time Tony rubbed against the underside of the head of Peter’s cock, a moan left his lips – the pitch of it needy, even in his own ears. It didn’t take much, the whole morning of build up making it hard for either of them to hold on. Pete tumbled over first, his hands gripping tightly to the other man’s slim hips – fingers digging in enough to bruise. Tony followed over and in the rush of it screamed out Pete’s name – the sound of it burned into the long-term storage of his brain.
The kiss pressed on his lips outside his place about an hour later promised more to come – Tony’s hands lingered a little too long to make it feel like their encounter was anything other than the start of something. Peter leaned against the doorframe of his first-floor apartment, eyes watching with amusement and affection as Tony skipped the last few steps back to his car, the smile he threw over his shoulder at Peter speaking volumes.
----
Seven months later found Peter standing between the stands of Tony’s last home basketball game. Maria Stark is clinging to his arm, the woman just starting to recover from the bad fit of health Tony went back to Italy for all that time ago. Her grip on him is tight, but Peter figured that was out of motherly affection just as much as necessity. She wasn’t there for very long – the woman very busy with the small seaside restaurant she managed and unable to be away for an extended period of time. Their time spent together leading up to Senior Night consisted of home cooked meals, lots of wine, and a mixture of an embarrassed Tony and an over the moon Peter. It seemed as if Maria lived to embarrass her son, the magnitude of his smile in her presence only rivaled when he spent time with Peter. They played several hands of Spades to fill the time between dinner and when Maria would check out for the evening. She’d taken to Peter in a way he’d never experienced before – like the mother he never had, maybe. Her fingers squeezing his forearm had him ducking down, looking at her curiously. “My boy – he’s good, isn’t he?” The pride in her eyes was infectious, Peter feeling the secondary effect of it – his chest clenching from the bittersweet nature of this. Not playing last year lessened his chances of getting drafted in the NBA – if they didn’t play well during the tournament, these could be the last few weeks of Tony’s basketball career.
The many talks they had about the future over the last few weeks consisted of plans with and without the league in mind. The most pleasurable piece for Peter was the fact that Tony seemed to have every intention of factoring him into each of his plans – many of them ending in a joint apartment, in a joint life. “He’s great, Ma. I don’t know anything about basketball, but I’m smart enough to know that he scores baskets and looks good doing it. Tony is – he’s amazing,” Peter gushed, his eyes glazing over at the thought. He felt Maria’s fingers squeeze him again, her lips finding his cheek. “I like you, Peter Parker.” The familiarity of the words made him laugh, his arm wrapping around her. “Thanks, Ma.”
The whole Senior Night ceremony wasn’t really a ceremony – things moved quickly and felt a little rushed, but the look on Tony’s face when he and his mom walked him across the court was priceless. There were many things that could be said about Tony Stark. He liked ketchup on hotdogs but not mustard. When he made macaroni, he preferred to use cream cheese instead of milk to cream the noodles. If he drank too much wine, he snored like a pig – and when he woke up from snoring like said pig, he clung to Peter and complained about a headache for hours. Many things people weren’t privy to, those intimate details sole property of Peter Parker. The rest of the world knew him for his basketball prowess and for the first time since meeting him and watching him excel on the court – Peter understood. This was home – just as much as the lab they shared or the booth they sequestered in the back of Moe’s – the court gave Tony something. He felt himself tear up when Tony took his final bow at the end of the game – the echoed “Stark, Stark, Stark” in the gym louder than Peter could remember it being all season. He let his fist pump in the air – the rush of giving Tony this letting him give into the pointless practices of the sports world.
His eyes were a little glassy when he met him outside the locker room a little while later. Peter could tell tonight was an emotional one. They were on a winning streak and it looked like they’d be heading forward in the tournament. No more games would take place in this gym, though – Tony talked about it most of the week, how important the win tonight would be. When arms wrapped around him and Tony’s face tucked into his shoulder, Peter wasn’t surprised – he simply held him tight and pressed a kiss to the sweaty mess of hair on the side of his head. “You did great, baby,” Peter whispered, the arms that wrapped around his waist tightening at the words, his neck a little wet. The moment didn’t last long – his teammates were there, he needed to give a couple of interviews – but the need for comfort won out and Peter was glad to be there for it, glad to be the one who could provide it for him.
Their relationship over the past few months blossomed quickly. They were pretty inseparable after that first morning together – between the lab and all the early morning or late-night dates, they were together constantly. Tony’s schedule as an athlete was pretty grueling and forced him to be gone for long periods of time – but they made it work. Peter grew to love the sleepy look of Tony’s face when they fell asleep together over FaceTime, or the teasing remarks he’d hear from Nick, Tony’s travel roommate, the next morning when Tony woke up with Peter still on the line. MJ gave him mad shit about how cute they were and still didn’t quite trust Tony, but Pete didn’t care – things were moving well between them, they were working things out about the future, and in less than ten seconds – Tony would be a retired college athlete.
His efforts throughout the game were enormous. Peter got to watch all the games throughout the tournament, the complex blessedly an hour’s drive away – one that Peter made effortlessly in Tony’s Wrangler. He watched his boyfriend score in the double digits each of the last three games, and rank amongst the top three in rebounds and assists, too. They were rolling on a streak and winning without much effort. This last game played much the same until the last five minutes. One of Stanford’s key centers fouled out and completely turned the tide of the game – no matter how good Tony’s efforts were. After scoring 32 points, Peter figured Tony wouldn’t mind going out losing on a performance like that. When time ran out, the notorious “Stark, Stark, Stark” sang out around the gym, despite being dominated by fans that were not there to see Stanford play.
Tony snuck Peter into his hotel room later that night, the man excitable the whole time they were out celebrating and now, even more so – his hands insistent, driving Peter crazy. He bribed Nick with the promise of breakfast the next morning so he and Tony could have the room for the night. His boyfriend was on fire and Peter wanted to take advantage of the happiness of the situation. Maybe if they clung to how good it felt, Tony wouldn’t have to let the sinking feeling of what next settle into his stomach. Peter wanted to replace that with heat, the kind that boiled hot and burned like fire – strong enough to consume them both if they were to let it. Tony’s lips were on his neck, Peter fumbling with the card he’d taken from Tony’s hands after the man tried to get the door open and couldn’t more than a few times. He totally understood now, the fine motor skills in his hands falling apart with each touch of Tony’s mouth to his skin. He let out a triumphant huff when the door clicked open and they fell through it – Tony’s arms wrapping around him tight to keep him upright.
He didn’t waste any time kicking out of his shoes and pulling off his socks, his eyes following Tony, Peter watching as Tony did the same to him – after all the time, it still felt a little funny to be studied that way. Like he was a puzzle that kept having pieces added to it – like if Tony didn’t continually do research, collect data and form new hypotheses, Peter might not continue to exist. His hands moved under Peter’s shirt, fingers exploring the planes of his skin before moving up a little, fiddling with both nipples – satisfied that his touch could still drive Peter mad. Tony raised the shirt not long after that, his hands skimming up the long planes of Peter’s sides until it was up and over his head. His boyfriend didn’t let him touch him yet, Tony pulling his own shirt off after that – their chest coming together when he pressed himself back against Peter. His hands were hot on his skin and overwhelming, Peter struggling to keep up – his own hands wrapped uselessly around Tony’s neck to keep him close.
His feet left the ground a few minutes later, Peter too wrapped up in the kiss to recognize the hands on the back of his thighs or the pressure of Tony picking him up. He pulled away from Tony then, chuckling into the skin of his cheek. “I love you like this – strung out, wanting,” Peter mumbled, his words clinging to Tony’s skin with the humidity collecting around them. His boyfriend’s lips pressed more insistently against his neck, tongue peeking out to wet the skin before his teeth dug in – his hips thrusting down against Pete’s to seek some friction. Their pants and briefs joined their shirts on the floor moments ago, his skin still on fire so much, he didn’t even notice the garments were gone. A moan slipped from his lips, though – the feel of Tony’s cock sliding against his own reminding him where he was, what he was doing, who he was wrapped up with.
Peter’s face pressed into the mattress a couple orgasms later, his fingers grasping the sheets below him in a vice like grip. “Fuck, Tony – I need you. I’m ready, I’m ready.” Peter was rambling, his words mumbled into the skin of his arm, the air, the universe around him. “Fuck, please.” Peter’s muscles were pulled tight under his skin – all of his energy being pulled from him lick after lick, with ever thrust of Tony’s finger, with every scrap of the goatee he’d been growing over the season against his sensitive skin. He felt raw and exposed, completely undone beneath the man who already swallowed his cock down once, then thrust against him until they both came apart together. The man who was worshipping his ass with his tongue – making him fall apart little by little. Peter meant to be the one giving Tony this – to distract him from whatever fall out would come from being done doing the thing he loved the most. It became pretty clear early on that Tony needed this control, though. The tight grip and inability to let Peter do any of the work speaking louder than anything else. Tony couldn’t control what was happening next, but he could control Peter – at least in this context.
When he eventually slipped inside, Peter was up on his knees, his hand fisting his cock in time with the thrust that started off slow and steady and quickly got to a point where Peter couldn’t remember his name, or why the fuck he hadn’t cum yet. Tony’s chest was plastered against Peter’s back, his name a never-ending chant falling from his boyfriend’s lips – each thrust pulling them closer and closer to the edge. The squeeze on his hip told him Tony was about to cum, the man’s grip like a vice, the many bruises on his skin over the past few months a result of this very instance. Peter sped up his hand to time his release with Tony’s. The fact that they were in a hotel room not keeping Tony from shouting, or Peter from grabbing the headboard and rocking it back into his grip hard. Tumbling down into the mattress, Peter felt a sticky-sweaty hand wrap around him, and a kiss being pressed into his head before he let a sudden sleepiness drag him under.
Waking up later, Peter groaned from the crustiness and shook Tony awake. They hobbled into the shower together, sleepily cleaning each other off and stumbling back to bed. They didn’t bother getting dressed and slipped under the covers together, Tony pulling him in close. “I love you, Petey. Thanks for being here. Tonight, and all the other nights. You being here makes all this just a little bit easier.” The words were whispered, his lips forming some of the words against the skin of Peter’s neck more often than actually speaking them. “I love you too, Tony. I wouldn’t have been anywhere else. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” He turned his head enough to press a kiss to Tony’s lips then settled back down, his body relaxing into the warmth of Tony wrapped around him.
----
In the end, Tony didn’t need to end up worrying. He put his name into the draft and signed a contract with the Brooklyn Nets in the third round. Peter got to kiss Tony before the other man got up and accepted his hat – the smile on his face one the rest of the world wouldn’t forget any time soon. The last couple of months in the lab were bittersweet, the concept of Tony having his dreams come true amazing – but their partnership ending a thing neither of them were looking forward to.
It didn’t matter, though – Peter’s work on his thesis had several doctoral offers coming his way – NYU’s Physics department winning him over after showing him just how good their resources were. It didn’t hurt a single bit that he’d been right where Tony was – able to be his one-man cheering squad and that shoulder to lean on when things got to be too much. He didn’t think about what the little bit of fame for Tony would be like, or how the cameras would affect him when the world realized who Peter was to Tony. The only thing that mattered was the man himself and if chasing down this dream was what he wanted, Peter would be there for him.
They jointly presented their research at the Physics symposium a couple days before graduation, the pair playing off each other well – both men so insanely brilliant that they had people at the booth the entire day – many asking questions and asking for business cards. The whole thing was a success and the best possible way to close that chapter of their lives together. He didn’t think coming into this year he’d be ending it with a steady boyfriend a surrogate mother, and a one-way ticket to New York – but crazier things happened every single day.
The selfie they took before walking across the stage at graduation lit up his background when they touched down at the airport, the 18-hour flight long and bumpy – but totally worth it. They were spending the next three weeks in Italy and Peter’s tour guide was a native to the land. His list of places to go grew throughout their flight, all of his reference books filled with scribbles and underlines – Peter so read up on all things Italy, he could probably give the factual tour himself. He couldn’t wait to explore the lands like a native, and sail on Tony’s family ships. The promise of fresh from the sea fish made his mouth water already. Tony leaned his head on Peter’s shoulder and watched while Peter scoured the books, the man pointing out things here and there, adding his own little stories when the time called for it. When he’d fallen asleep, Peter leaned his head against him and kept researching. A text from his Aunt May waited for him, but he ignored it – his brain scrambled from all the traveling and excitement coursing through him. They were finally in Italy and Maria was waiting to take them back to the Stark family home.
Their first night was filled with the best wine Peter could remember tasting. He didn’t think it could get any better, but every vineyard they toured and learned about topped the next. Each place was beautiful and gave a different view of the Italian countryside. Tony’s childhood home was right by the coast, so they were awoken by the sounds of birds and the sun in their eyes bright and early. They travelled inward and toured the wineries – trying all the food and pastries they could while they were at it. For the first week, Peter couldn’t remember what day it was – the wine, pasta, and cheese going straight to his head.
Every time Tony looked at him, Peter fell more in love. Watching the man interact with his family and smiling adoringly at his Nona was stupidly heartwarming. Tony would never be able to keep his cool guy reputation if his teammates saw him interact so easily with these people – the people that meant the most to him. They already gave him mad shit about the way Peter could make Tony melt like ice cream on a hot day. If only they could see the blush that overtook the man’s cheek when Nona gave him a kiss on the cheek.
One of their last days on the island found them alone on the deck of his late Papa’s boat – the ship gently rocking back and forth. They were tangled up on a small blanket, sipping on some of the wine Peter deemed the best out of everything they tried, Tony’s hands running idly through the longer curls on the back of his neck. “This has been fun, right? Getting to know where I’m from?” Tony asked, his hand still moving rhythmically, Peter so relaxed it took him a second to answer the question. “Of course. This has been the most fun I’ve ever had. Probably in my whole life. Just Italy is beautiful. Italy with you – it’s better than I ever could have dreamed. Thank you for bringing me here,” Peter replied, his lips pulled into a soft smile. “I love you, Tony. I love getting to know you, too.”
Tony sat up a little, a nervous look on his face. Quirking his eyebrow, Peter sat up, too – most of his body weight still leaning against Tony. The several glasses of Prosecco they’d been nursing throughout the afternoon made him feel lazy and Tony’s warm chest was like a siren’s song. “Good, I wanted to introduce you to my family – introduce you to more of me. You’re so important to me, Peter. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Honestly, I don’t want to start this next chapter in my life without knowing you’re going to be mine forever – you being in those stands, being there for me – that’s all I want.” Peter watched him fumble around behind his back until he sighed softly, a box in his hand a second later. “Marry me, Pete. Please, make me the happiest man on this earth – be my husband.” He popped open the box where a white jade and sterling silver ring was laying. “Will you?”
Peter could feel how wide open his mouth was, jawing hanging from its hinge. He never questioned the certainty of their future – Tony was it for him. He’d known that from the second he realized just how much of a favor Tony did him that first night they met. Tony cared about him in a way that he’d never felt before – like he was a precious cargo, something to both protect and treasure. They fit and that’s all Peter ever wanted. Marriage hadn’t crossed his mind, but the instant he saw the look on Tony’s face, he knew it was the right thing. The thought of having Tony as his husband unimaginable but so decadently enticing he could do nothing else other than blurt out “of fucking course, Tony.” The other man laughed at him – the sound coming from deep within his chest. The ring slid on easily, the fit perfect – as if Tony would allow for anything else. He brought the ring to his lips and pressed a kiss against it, the feeling of it cool against his skin, the weight of it new and exciting.
They came back sunburnt and happy – the two of them slowly going about docking the boat and making their way towards Maria’s place. When they celebrated later on, Maria pressed a kiss to his cheek and welcomed him to the family – her arms wrapping tightly around him. It felt nice, Peter finally feeling good about his place in the world.
And when Tony wrapped his arms around his waist later that evening, Peter leaned back into him and sighed – the shoe fit, the love was real. The start of forever with Tony was well within reach on the horizon. They were happy – and that’s all that mattered.
