trying - to be more active on tumblr by posting a fic i speed-wrote in discord & then cleaned up later. full credit to @starkerhowlter for the amazing prompt 💜
summary- tony and peter are in a relationship, but the others don’t know. one day, peter slaps tony’s ass playfully with a hand covered in paint and the bright pink handprint on his chinos is what forces their reveal.
You can also read this on AO3!
Tony walks into the kitchen, humming a slightly off tone version of ‘Toxic’ under his breath. He hadn't initially wanted to listen to Britney Spears in his lab--it threw the whole vibe off--but Peter wouldn’t listen, even going so far as to rope FRIDAY, the traitor, into playing his playlist. The end result being Tony having songs stuck in his mind against his will. The other day, to his eternal horror, he was mumbling One Direction’s ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ and it was only his good fortune that prevented anyone, especially Peter, from being around him. He would’ve never heard the end of it otherwise. All alleged footage was immediately wiped, of course.
He nods in greeting to the various occupants of the Tower who were gathered around. Natasha was sitting on the counter with her legs pulled up to her chest while Barnes was rummaging through the fridge. The others--Steve, Rhodey, Sam--were sitting around the island, talking about something related to the military. He had no interest taking part in that conversation. He’s still a bit, maybe 35%, persona non grata with those people.
Instead, Tony makes a beeline straight for the coffee machine, needing a cup in his hands like, yesterday. It’s as he’s got his hand outstretched to grab his favorite mug--red and blue like another favorite something--that he hears a voice from behind him.
“Tony….”
”Yes, Freezer Burn?” He grabs the mug, pours himself some fresh brew, and turns around to face the island.
Steve ignores the name. “What’s that on your, uh, your-” He points a finger in the general direction of Tony’s chinos.
“It’s the 21st century, you can say ass, Steve,” Sam snarks.
Tony’s brows raise in surprise that he hides behind a large gulp. “What’s that on my what?”
“There’s, um, a handprint? Like, a bright pink one.” Steve’s cheeks are slightly flushed, and his eyes are darting everywhere except Tony. Who apparently has something on his derriere.
H can feel his brows raise higher and was that-
Yep. There was a slight flush rising Tony’s neck. Damn. He curses his body while someone--Natasha?--mutters “Must’ve been some hand to make the great Tony Stark blush.”
“It’s not like that! That’s- that was Dum-E. He recently discovered finger painting, Terrible Twos and all, you understand,” he tries to wave the topic away with a wave of his hand, but of course, the hounds had scented blood. They weren’t letting it go now.
“Terrible Twos,” Rhodey scoffs. “Two decades maybe. I was there when you built that thing, Tones, and besides, it’s a handprint, not a claw mark. So ‘fess up.”
Tony’s eyes darted between the assembled Avengers and the exit but just as he was contemplating the best form of distraction so he could dart away, the worst thing that could’ve happened happens.
Peter walks in.
Well, Tony amends mentally, Peter walking in isn’t the worst thing to happen. Tony's happy to see him at any given point of time, the sight of Peter’s bright smile, fluffy curls and that ridiculous bounce in his step was enough to shave a decade off his age with how light it made him feel. Even now, knowing what lay in wait for them, he could feel the way his face had softened into one of those helplessly fond smiles Peter liked to make fun of.
No, what was bad was the incriminating hot pink palms he was scrubbing at, head down and oblivious to the reactions his entrance had triggered. Sam’s brows had shot up into his hair, Rhodey had his patented ‘Tony No’ look (the one that consistently made Tony do the exact opposite, it was important to note), Steve, who hadn’t made the connection yet, was oblivious as ever - Did spankings even exist in his time? - and Natasha was silently sliding over a twenty to a triumphant Bucky. Tony's mouth falls open a little at that. Damn spies.
“God, I forgot how tedious working with acrylics was,” Peter comments while still not looking up. Tony has half a mind to take his arm and march him right back out of the room. He would’ve too, if he wasn’t living in the same building as this sorry lot that double up as spies and/or exceptionally nosy. He quickly runs the numbers in his head and the result - expected but still unwelcome - makes him sigh. There was no running away from this.
So he leans back against the kitchen counter, crosses his arms across his chest and sorely wishes he had his sunglasses on, waiting for the first person to break.
To his endless amusement, it’s Steve.
“Peter?”
“Hm?”
“Funny thing, did you know the paint on your hands is the same…color…as…” And there it was. The slow descent of realisation as Steve trails off, head bouncing rapidly between Peter's hands and Tony's backside. He was a little impressed, to be honest. He didn’t realise Cap had it in him to stare so intensely at another man’s…assets.
“Same color as?” That’s when Peter looks up, finally, and sees the myriad of expressions lining everyone’s faces. Brows furrowed in confusion, he follows Steve's gaze right to the back of Tony's light brown chinos. (God, he knew those was a bad idea. There was a reason he hadn’t worn these godforsaken things in over a decade and it was because the last time he did, the events of the evening were so thoroughly documented they still followed him around like an annoying ghost. Talk shows hosts loved bringing up 2004 for a reason.)
Peter’s eyes widen, stuck on Tony’s lower half. In any other scenario, he would’ve been very happy at this turn of events but well, he might not have seen exactly what the others had but he knew very well what it would look like. After all, Tony vividly remembered the events that led to this moment.
x
Peter was working on his painting in the sun room, some combination of acrylics and flowers and glitter that he wasn’t allowed to see until it was fully complete. Tony had thus been banished to the lab until that happened. An hour in, however, he had grown antsy- he didn’t do too well with instructions, after all - and had wandered down to see Peter, maybe sneak in a little something. As he’d entered the room, though, something on the low shelf to his left caught his eye and he turned around to see what it was, forgetting to call out for Peter in his haste.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a mini Iron Man model, freshly sculpted, left to dry and he was too busy imagining Peter's lean fingers, deftly manipulating clay to form this little guy to notice the man himself sneaking up on him until it was too late.
It was the loud smack - and feel - of a palm against his accidentally-pushed-out ass (he was leaning forward, okay? It was inevitable) that brought him out of his daydream with a start. He whirled around, ready to summon his gauntlet on whoever had the audacity until he saw the mischievous smile on Peter's face.
“You-” he spluttered.
“Me,” Peter agreed happily before stepping forward to close the gap between them with a sweet kiss that Tony melted into. ‘You looked so- so cute, I couldn’t resist.”
“Cute?” Tony’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t cute. He was Iron Man--destroyer of supervillains and terrifying all around.
“Yep,” Peter smirked and kissed his protests away. It was only FRIDAY’s announcement that dinner was ready that broke them apart.
“I've got to get this cleaned up first,” Peter said, pointing to his workspace with a hooked thumb. Tony looked over his shoulder to see open boxes spread out on the table, and a paint board with drying colors on it. “Save me a plate?”
“Of course, I will. Can’t have our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man starving,” he said with a wink and with one final kiss, Tony slipped out of the room.
Neither of them noticed the wet paint on Peter’s hands.
x
Which brings them to now.
Tony, affecting nonchalance and Peter, steadily turning red. Although, if Tony knew him - and he did, there was no doubt about that - then it was less to do with their unexpected reveal and more to do with, quite literally, being caught red (pink?) handed. Funny, he still had some shame that Tony hadn’t gotten rid of yet.
“You- he- when- wha-” Steve stutters, eyes wide as saucers and that, more than anything, soothes Tony's frayed nerves. Because Cap's conservative sensibilities were familiar ground.
“We use complete sentences in this household, Steve-o,” Tony smirks. Steve straightens up, back straight and voice stern. Ah. Steve Rogers is out and Captain America is in.
“Tony. What is the meaning of this?”
The rest of their teammates perk up, wisely staying away but not far enough to miss the drama. Bunch of vultures, the lot of them, Tony thinks fondly.
“The meaning of what, Steve?” he asks, blinking innocently.
“You know what I mean,”
“I’m sure I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Tony challenges with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Why was Peter's hand on your- on your body?”
”Oh my god,’ Peter mutters from the side. “I never thought this would be how we get caught.”
“And to think it was you!’ Tony crows triumphantly, pointing a finger towards him. “Take that, FRIDAY!’ He points a finger at her nearest camera. If she thinks he’d forgotten how easily she took Peter's side the one time they’d discussed going public, she had another thing coming. Both of them were convinced it would be Tony doing something that would give them away but this was a twist neither had seen coming and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
“I- no one could have seen this coming, Tony!’ Peter argues. “It’s so stupid.”
“Which is what makes it so much better.”
“Okay, no, wait a second,” Steve cuts in again. Truly, patience personified, that man. “What is going on here?”
Peter sighs, half rolling his eyes in frustration. “I’d have thought it was obvious, Cap. Tony and I are dating. Hence, the-” He waves his hand in the general direction of Tony's lower half.
The confirmation, to no one’s surprise, doesn’t actually take the wind out of Steve's sails. If anything, it only fires him up some more.
“But you’re- you’re so young, practically a child! Tony’s…he’s—”
“Capsicle, please tell me that you, of all people, are not about to call me old right now,’ Tony warns. This entire debacle was amusing, much more than if they’d come out the normal way, but he was not willing to put up with any slights, and definitely not from the frozen relic of all people.
“That's not the same thing!” Steve slams his hand down on the counter, and Tony's flinch is what spurs Peter into protective action. He steps in front of the man, arms crossed.
“I'm not in the mood for moral judgement from a man that had to trick his way into the army,’ he says, coldly. “I’m sure you understand.” The others, who were used to the happy-go-lucky Peter and never so much as seen him annoyed, were startled by the sudden change. But Tony wasn't. He'd seen, firsthand, how protective Peter was when it came to his loved ones. It was beyond his unending privilege that he was now part of that list.
“Besides,” Rhodey steps in when the silence stretches a little too long, clearly trying to diffuse the tension, “Peter can throw a bus with his bare hands, Steve. You really think he can be forced into anything?”
Steve clearly disagreed because Tony could see his mouth opening, no doubt another rebuttal, something something age and power and reputation. Before he could, though, Peter - who was clearly done with the conversation - clapped a hand on his shoulder. Tony winced slightly at the loud sound, wondering how much that must’ve hurt.
“Besides, Steve,” Peter says slyly, “Look at that ass and tell me you wouldn’t if you had half the chance.”
The blush on Tony's neck deepened and Sam bursts out in laughter, effectively cutting through the tense moment. Steve looks at Peter, the ‘You really wanna try me?’ look on his face, then over at Tony who was standing loose limbed and extremely unconcerned before sighing in defeat. This was not a fight he’d win.
Peter pats Steve's shoulder with a triumphant smile before walking over to Tony, and immediately aiming a light smack on the exact same place as before.
“At least we don’t have to hide it now,” he winks.
“No, please do,” Rhodey leans forward- tony no- a note of desperation in his voice. “None of us want to see this.”
Tony’s answering laughter is swallowed by Peter's lips descending on him. Distantly, he thinks--someone else doing what Rhodey expressly said not to—he didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky.
