Dec 24, 2023
Alpha Tony at prom with his fake date and omega Peter whose his chem teacher chaperoning
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Thailand
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
Alpha Tony at prom with his fake date and omega Peter whose his chem teacher chaperoning
For au gust, can you do ballerina tony and billionaire Steve that funds Tony’s dances?
It is no longer August but it’ll get done before next year lol
Hope you like, dear!
anon, ballet au
“Tony,” Steve sighs frustratedly when Tony stops for the third time, the music to the Nutcracker echoing like it's still playing when Steve stops it on Tony’s phone. “It’s just dance. You know it, I know you do, but I can’t approve you for the next renewment of funds if I don’t see it myself.”
Tony wraps his arms around himself and turns to face the wall, away from Steve. He’s only ten feet away, yet Steve can’t go to him and tug him into a hug even as he climbs to his feet.
Or maybe it’s won’t.
“If you know I can do it, why can’t you just pay and move on?”
“Tony,” Steve says.
Tony stops. Sighs. “You’re making me nervous,” he admits quietly, turning gracefully on his heel and tugging at his hair. Of course it’s graceful; Steve doubts Tony’s done anything ungracefully, Tony and Jim’s college stories be damned. Tony steps up close to him, scent of his deodorant and cologne wafting up.
Steve breathes in pointedly through his nose, breathes out. “And why is that?”
“Because,” Tony says slowly. “You look at me. Like you are now.” Tony goes up on his pointe shoes until he’s finally eye to eye with Steve, his whiskey-dark eyes staring into Steve’s soul and pulling it out to dance in the sweaty studio with him.
“Yeah?” The thought that this is moving into an entirely unprofessional relationship is a fleeting one. “And how do I look at you?”
“Kiss me,” Tony says softly, his hands on Steve’s shoulders. His feet must hurt but he stays up. “Please,” he begs softly.
Tony’s mouth is slack and soft against Steve’s, his body warm against Steve’s cold suit. The suit turns warmer when Tony hurriedly rucks up and wrinkles the heavy sleeves, his soft palms running up Steve’s forearms.
“I have never wanted anything like I want you,” Tony breathes, a bubbly smile—strange for the slowness and the warmth of the moment—striking Steve’s heart.
“Oh? Not even ballet school?”
“Well, maybe that,” Tony drops to the flat of his feet, and Steve follows him down, pressing a lingering kiss to Tony’s sweaty brow. “But you got me here, anyway.”
“Your hard work got you here,” Steve points out. The only thing he did was bankroll him. “I just threw money at you and shook old men’s hands for you.”
“The money helped though,” Tony says, laughing for no reason.
Steve snorts.
And then they’re both laughing, clutching their stomachs, clutching each other to try and not laugh, their ribs begging for mercy, but for every moment of eye contact wheezing once more.
Tony’s giggle is the best thing Steve’s ever heard.
Tony would rather dance to Steve’s laughter than any composition he’s ever heard.
Tony takes the two hexahedronal dice dubiously, rolls the slats of dark blue in his fingers, and stares at the board.
His paladin hovers at the edge of square two: the Uncertain Cliff.
He chews on the inside of his mouth for a second, and thinks that maybe, he should’ve stuck to football. “So, I can…” he glances up, to the enthusiastic and eager eyes of Peter, Ned, Flash and MJ. At their expectant (and in MJ’s case: inpatient) faces, he feels his cheeks get a little red. He clears his throat and clenches his sweaty palm around the dice. “I just roll?”
“You just roll,” Peter promises reassuringly, and Tony feels a little burst of relief. He’s fourteen. He shouldn’t need comforting from a thirteen year old, but whatever. He’s hanging out with thirteen year olds. He used to be popular. What happened?
“Anything higher than a seven and you’ll fly straight across the ravine,” Ned pipes up, and Tony nods.
Higher than a seven. Right. He can do that. Except- “What if I roll a six?”
Oh god, he feels so stupid. What is he doing here? What is he actually doing here? In the empty once-storage room in the dark, dusty, forgotten corners of the school when he should be outside in the sunshine playing football with everyone else?
He knows why, of course. It has something to do with the honey eyes and the hopeful smile of a one, thirteen year old: Peter Parker.
“Your character tumbles to the bottom of the ravine,” Flash answers, “but you’ve got enough reviving potion as long as your injuries aren’t five plus.”
“Which they might be,” MJ teases ominously, and Ned elbows her with a look.
“He’s trying!”
“Oh god,” she rolls her eyes, “just roll.”
Great. MJ thinks he’s a loser. Tony swallows his apprehension and tosses the dice across the board. Everyone’s eyes follow raptor-fast until they stop and Tony feels a little thrill of exhilaration at the shiny thirteen dots gazing at the ceiling.
Peter and Flash break out into cheers. “Well done, Tony!” Peter beams, and Tony feels himself puff up a little with pride. Peter meets his eyes and they share a private, almost-moment, before Flash clears his throat.
(Tony knows why he’s here. These guys, even though they’re a grade lower, treat him better than the people in his year. They don’t treat him like he’s the most popular, richest guy in school. They treat him the way he feels: gangly, a little spotty, and too proud. They treat him like a doofus, and he can finally relax)
They turn to the dungeon master obediently, and Flash basks in the attention. His voice is hypnotic when he speaks: “Alright. Tony sails across the ravine and is faced with two paths. One leads to the home of a doctor who’s said to have the potion to save your friend, the other leads to a series of caves that legend says house the crystals of life. What do you choose for your company?”
“The doctor!” MJ cries earnestly, and Tony blinks a little at her passion. He hadn’t thought she was that into it. “We can win him over, we’ve saved enough charm-“
“The crystals are stronger than the potion! If our friend needs more than an eight the potion won’t be any good!” Ned sighs, shaking his head in dismay.
Peter lowers his head a little in respect, and pushes his little mage figure so it rests just under Tony’s shadow as it’s cast across the board. “Whatever you choose, Paladin.” He murmurs demurely, and Tony feels a little flood of arousal. Peter’s cheeky grin says he knows it too.
Ned follows quickly. He upturns his palms and waits.
MJ too, looks to him with her knight ready for his choice.
It’s a little intoxicating, if Tony’s honest. His skin prickles with the choice as he weighs it up in his mind.
Flash cocks an eyebrow expectantly, and Tony nods his head, and takes a breath: “The Doctor. We want to see the Doctor.”
Flash grins, and leads them down the story on the left.
***
Tony’s mom makes him drink a glass of orange juice a few months later, because he looks a little pale.
He doesn’t have the heart to tell her he isn’t sick. That he just hasn’t tanned the way he normally does by playing football out in the sun at lunchtimes. He doesn’t quite know how to tell her that he’s about to write his first quest and take his seat as Dungeon Master. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s a paladin and he’s planning on marrying his mage. He doesn’t know how to tell her that his grades in everything have gone up and that he wants to quit the football team.
“You should have some juice too, Peter, darling,” Maria murmurs, as she pours some for Peter too.
Peter sits at the counter and blushes, ducking his head and accepting it gratefully. “Thanks, Mrs Stark,” he chirps, and Tony feels a rush of affection so strong, he blurts out:
“Mom, I’m dating a mage.”
Peter nearly chokes on his juice, and Maria pauses on her journey to the fridge. She stops, and turns slowly. “You’re dating Paige?” She asks carefully.
He can feel the tips of his ears turning red, and he shakes his head. “No, I- I’m dating a mage. Level 7. He’s- it’s- he’s-“ he points at Peter, who’s staring at him in a mix of amazement and horror. “It’s Peter.”
“Ah,” Maria smiles, waving them off. “I knew that.”
Tony shoves his hands into his pockets, pulls out the two special octedronal dice he had to cycle all the way to Hudson’s to buy, and holds them out for Peter. “Marry me?” He asks quietly, holding them both out for him, and Peter smiles so hard he looks like he might burst and he says:
“Only if you role higher than a one.”
***
i love you guys