Secretary Peter, Boss Tony. With a twist ;)
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.”
