although obviously I am a supporter. But this IS a Starker blog. You will read no original Spideypool Fic here.
Having said that:
“Hey, Deadpool and I have a lot in common,” Peter found himself needling. He followed his mentor into the massive bathroom, but decided not to join him in the shower. He still felt like he had a point to make.
“...The flirting is just… that’s just one of his superpowers. He flirts with everybody… he flirts with the furniture. Look, I’m not asking you to approve of Wilson… I mean he is an acquired taste.... But you don’t need to be jealous…” he added, knowing damn well he was just saying this to make Tony jealous. At least Jealous!Tony was hot. From You Would Look Good In A Cowboy Hat. Read it on Ao3.
“…and I know that you don’t approve of Wade. Most people don’t approve of Wade. That’s kind of the point. But if you think about it Wade and I have so much more in common than you and me. I mean think about where we grew up. If you think about it, you’ll see. End paragraph.”
This wasn’t right. His lungs should be filling up with air now, certainly there had to be air outside the car, wasn’t there? And yet that didn’t seem to be the case. He would ask FRIDAY why that wasn’t the case. Just as soon as he could make his voice work. Just as soon as his heart stopped pounding so loudly in his ears. From Cracked Up. Read it on Ao3.
An Elder God (really, an opportunistic alien) comes to Earth and creates a cult - they are sacrificing virgins like there was no tomorrow. With alien tech, it looks like they can *magically* kill virgins. The Avengers are scattered to the four winds - there are only 4 Avengers in town, and one of them is Peter Parker.
TONY PANICS
He has been an absolute saint, turning down Peter more than once. But he has to protect Peter at all costs.
//Come straight to the penthouse. Now.//
//But the Flatiron building//
//I’ve got SHIELD on it. Come now//
//They hit a SCHOOL Tony!//
//And we’ll get them kid. We’ll take them all down. Together. Now get your ass back here.//
In the penthouse, Tony takes Peter’s face in his hands and speaks softly, but urgently.
“You have every right to be pissed at me, and you have every right to say “I told you so.” But I need you to give me another chance. I’ll admit I was wrong... well I was right, you do deserve better than me, you deserve a lot better than me, but lets forget about that right now. I need to ask if you still want this. I need to tell you yes.”
In the middle of the kissing, Peter manages to ask the obvious question. “Okay, but why now? The cult and their so-called god are in the streets. Shouldn’t we take care of them first?”
In between kisses and shed clothing Tony explains. And Peter lets him. And then Peter lets him.
Right until they tumble onto the bed, and Peter pushes him away.
“But this can’t be a one-and-done, Tony. I can’t do that. I’d rather take my chances with the elder god.” And Tony agrees.
Afterward, when word comes that the situation has stabilized and there is no immediate danger, the two take their time in Tony’s bed, talking, touching, exploring, confessing. Finally Tony goes to sleep, holding Peter close.
Tony sleeps well. He knows that Peter, his sweet, pure virgin, is now safe from danger.
Peter sleeps well. He knows that Tony, the so-called genius apparently never guessed that Peter, at 22, lost his v-card years ago.
INSPIRED COMPLETELY BY @awesomestarkers post be sure to read it
“There’s no happy ending for people like us, Andrey. Only the misfortune of time and her cruel games of fancy.”
Tony’s mouth on his was warm and gentle and amazing, and was quickly driving all thoughts out of his head.
At least, that’s what Peter thought. Up until Tony’s hands began working his ass again.
They had promised themselves they were going to sleep now. At least,
that’s what they had said in the shower. Peter, certainly, was up for a little shut-eye. Even Tony, the notorious insomniac, had admitted he was ready to try.
“And you can’t blame jetlag anymore,” Peter reminded him, and not for the first time. They had been in Naples for two days now. Peter was actually eager to get out and see Naples, but so far they were still holed up at the top of the hotel. No one knew they were in Italy, not yet. Technically they were waiting for Tony to get the word that things were ready in New York. While Spider-Man was getting photographed webbing up bad guys in NYC, THAT was when Tony and Peter would make their appearance.
Ever since word got out that the face of Stark Industries was dating a hot youthful intern, the press had started to make noise about Ironman and Spider-Man. Tony had taken the opportunity to whisk Peter away into hiding, claiming it was all about protecting “Underoos” secret identity. Peter didn’t argue - he wasn’t in the habit of arguing with his older lover - even though he thought his secret identity’s days were numbered. And that was okay with him. Now that he was an official Avenger, and officially Tony’s boyfriend, the whole ‘secret identity’ thing seemed a little childish.
But he said nothing as Tony made his plans. There was a Spider-Man double who was geering up to take the stage - a friendly Avenger had volunteered for the role - now they were just waiting for the go-ahead. Until then, it was their job to hide in the hotel.
At least, that's what they were telling themselves.
Of course… all this laying around naked in each other’s arms all day and catnapping between sex was turning out to be very pleasant… and neither were very eager to give it up.
And it didn’t help that everything they needed was right there on hand. In breaks between love-making Peter lazed about, googling all the landmarks that he wanted to see, and Tony was having all the information on the most famous tourist attractions sent up to the hotel room. He himself had spent many summers there with his “Nonna” and knew a great deal of the country intimately, and was happy to serve as Peter’s tour guide. When the time came.
Of course, that would require putting their clothes on. Which so far they hadn’t really managed to do.
“But mostly I want to see the clocktower, the real one. And the place where you say they actually filmed the scene,” Peter had explained as they worked out their Itinerary with FRIDAY - all a plan for The Day that they wanted to be seen and serendipitously photographed as a couple. “It HAS to be RIGHT by the wall where they shot that scene - the one that everybody recognizes. We’ll have to get pics of us by the actual clocktower, obviously…”
Tony was more than a little surprised that Peter was familiar with the movie at all… let alone such an expert on its shooting history, or the authenticity of the locale. Let alone the accompanied history of Naples, Italy.
“It was an important movie for me… in my formative years…” Peter had said with a shy shrug and a ducked head. That gesture alone told Tony that this was one secret he was going to learn.
It had been last night (or was it the morning before? Time was losing all meaning for them in the hotel suite, and Tony loved it that way) that Peter had finally made his confession.
They were laying skin-to-skin in a tangle of white sheets on the mammoth bed when he began to whisper the story. “Imagine me, at thirteen, recovering from a tonsillectomy, with nothing to watch on tv… we only had cable then and I was too sick to get up and find a DVD… just flipping through channels. It came on. I had no idea what I was looking at… but the remote’s batteries were wearing out and I was too miserable to get up to do anything about it. That’s why I watched it all the way through. I thought it was really boring at first… but then…”
Sometimes he giggled and blushed, sometimes he hid his face in Tony’s neck and begged for a reprieve. He didn’t want to tell this story, which was all the more reason that Tony needed to hear it.
“I thought it was really hot,” Peter finally whispered. ”These men… they were supposed to hate each other but… but that’s not what it looked like to me…
“And I guess…” He faltered again and covered his face with one hand. Even here, laying lip to lip, toe to toe with his lover, he tried to hide.
“I guess that was the day I first started to imagine…” he said, leaning up another two inches to whisper the secret into Tony’s ear. “What those two, handsome men really wanted to do with each other. I didn’t think they really wanted all that violence. I think they just wanted to do this…” He molded his long, lean body against Tony’s, entwining their legs and tightening his arms, trailing kisses down Tony’s bare shoulder.
Tony wanted to know more, of course. Discovering the movie, the moment that had triggered Peter’s sexual awakening felt like a perfect, surprise clue and all he wanted was more. But Peter was too tight-lipped about those earliest fantasies. No amount of teasing, bribing or begging would get Tony any more information. Finally, he gave up.
“And of course we’re in love… that’s why I tried to shoot you…” Tony finally joked.
“If we were really in love you wouldn’t have missed,” Peter quoted back with a grin.
He was rewarded with a kiss. A warm, gentle, amazing kiss that made Peter wonder if he should remind Tony about his promise to try to get some sleep… hard to do when Tony’s free hand working its way around and back into interesting places…
“Again?” Peter thought about saying (although he was certainly up for one more go. They had never done it three times in one night, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?) But instead, when he opened his mouth, he heard the word “Amazing.”
“Hmmm?” Tony asked, pulling up from the kiss just a little. Peter looked up at him in the morning sunlight, a little embarrassed. HE hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
But now Tony was looking down at him with those incredible dark eyes, and he had to speak. “I said… amazing. You’re amazing,” he whispered.
“You’re amazing….”Tony replied, and Peter found himself look up into Tony’s face and seeing something that hadn’t been there before. Something that almost looked like… fear? Doubt?”
“You’re amazing – everything about you is amazing…” the older man was saying now, his voice falling into a whisper. “... and your mind is incredible and your body is… and the things you let me do to you in bed…”
Peter had to look away, blushing a little and hiding in Tony’s chest. “The things you ‘let’ me do to you in bed” was a strange way to put it – as if Peter hadn’t asked for it, as if he wasn’t constantly begging for more…
“But…”
A silence filled the room. Peter blinked up in alarm.
“...but?”
He looked up into Tony’s face just in time to see him reaching up to adjust glasses that weren’t there.
Peter had seen the gesture a million times - Tony’s glasses were the armor he wore when he wasn’t wearing armor. Peter had seen Tony make that move so many times before… but never around him. This was the first, and his eyes widened when he realized Tony was trying to protect himself.
“...but… sometimes… well sometimes you reach down and find the watch in the same place the gun was hidden. Sometimes… dammit kid.” He shrugged, his eyes fell.
is marked on Ao3 as NOT complete. I have no idea why.
It IS complete. If, you know, you just wanted to read about Princess Peter and how his “Wicked” Stepmother Nat managed to score him the ridiculously wealthy Handsome Prince Tony...
“There isn’t anyone on the planet that can control me. There isn’t anyone, not even an Avenger, that’s strong enough to make me do something I don’t want to do.”
He was proud of himself, proud of his boldness, but of course Tony had to shrug it all off and continue his study of the ceiling.
“Well….” he said finally.
“What?”
“We could continue the experiment – with the right Avenger. Maybe Bruce when he…”
“OH PLEASE. I don’t think so.”
“I don’t know, he can get pretty big. And his hands are like the size of….”
“Whatever, I’d just punch him and then he’d get bigger and then he’d punch me and then I’d punch him and he would get bigger and then we’d wind up taking down an entire building and we’d both forget all about the sex, so what would be the point?”
“Alright. Thor…”
“No. I’d get all tangled up in his draperies. Dude I don’t even know what to say during sex, how am I going to talk all Shakespearean??”
“You’re damn lucky Cap is 90 years old and tragically heterosexual.”
“Still wouldn’t work – he’s not nearly as hung as you.”
Peter looked up slyly.
“Never get naked with Bucky Barnes. He tells tales.”
The voice was calm. Low. Sincere. But it took Prince Peter by surprise. He had finally found a rose-garden where no flowers remained awake. The smell of the newly-painted flowers was not pleasant, but at least it was quiet. So he had returned to reading his failed poem out loud in the silence.
But, it seemed, he had a human audience.
“Of course… a rath could be frumious, I suppose. If they were to be defending their territory… I have read that they are territorial. At home. Presuming they can ever find their home. I’ve only ever seen them lost I’m afraid…”
Peter
looked up at the handsome stranger and gaped. The man had appeared out of nowhere… but he clearly wasn’t a gardener. In fact, he appeared to be…
“Are you… are you the…?” the gaping Peter asked.
It would be frightfully bad manners to say it. But this handsome man was a stranger, and Peter knew everyone in his father’s castle. He made it his business to know it. He was going to be a knight someday, and he was determined to practice his knightley manners on everyone. (He hadn’t started yet. He preferred to remain silent for now. But he was practicing in his head.)
But this striking man was unknown to him. And there was only one new arrival at his father’s castle, and that was…
“The hatter?” the man replied, looking up at the black silk sitting on top of his head. It seemed to amuse him. “Why, yes, I suppose I am…”
The man was stunning. At least, Peter was certainly stunned. He had dark, captivating eyes, and Peter was most certainly captivated. His heart pounded as the handsome man drew nearer.
“...and perchance a bit of a poet myself, and I must say I did enjoy your verses…” The man continued to speak easily as he drew nearer to the prince. As if he could not hear the pounding of Peter’s heart in his ears, as if he could not feel the heat that was now coloring Peter’s face.
“...and I do think it fitting. Uffish, but fitting. For someone should mourn them. The monsters that never grew to be frumious. The terrors that never grew to be terrible at all.”
Stunning, just how handsome the strange man was. Peter’s heart continued to pound. Still, he tried to be polite when he spoke. Proper manners should always come first (he WAS going to be a knight some day!!) He knew whatever came out of his mouth had to be very proper.
“But… if you are a hatter… doesn’t that mean you are mad?”
Wait - that didn’t sound proper at all.
But the handsome man wasn’t offended. In fact, he only seemed amused. He threw back his head and laughed and, in relief, Peter found himself laughing with him. And then they were both laughing - as if it were the most natural thing in the whole world… just as natural as shaking a stranger’s hand and then finding yourself in a frenetic dance. Two men, both currently mourning the death of jabberwocks, suddenly laughing.
A sound from the other side of the gate startled them. Peter gasped as if he had been caught… but caught doing what? He couldn’t say, exactly. He had only been laughing with his father’s hatter in a garden… yet he found himself looking for an escape, as skittish as a wary tove on the edge of a hunter’s net. He looked above him at the rose trees frantically. The paint was still drying, but were they all painted? Was there still work for the gardeners to do?
The hatter reached out with one black-gloved hand and, taking Peter by the elbow, nodded toward an open gate at the bottom of the garden. Silently, Peter followed him. Swiftly, quietly, they fled the garden and slipped into the hedge maze beyond it.
It never occurred to Peter to question why they moved so quickly, or where they were going. He only knew that when that man touched his elbow with that black gloved hand? He would have followed that stranger anywhere...
----------------------------------------------
Amazing art by @mrstarksbaby
Chapter 3 to be posted this week!
Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious series to keep up on ALL our current projects.
Peter knew he was dreaming because they weren’t in the city. They were at some county fair somewhere. Peter was sitting with the rest of them, a little higher on the hill in a dry place, watching the fairgoers run for cover as the misting rain became a steady drizzle. He seemed to be under a tent of some kind… he was cold, but didn’t seem to be getting wet anyway… but enjoyed the peaceful scene of the lovely cool day through the mist of hazy rain. Sometimes he looked up at the fireworks in the sky (an odd choice, given that it was daytime, and raining) and sometimes at the rotating buildings at the base of the hill below him.
There was nothing else to see from this standpoint, but he didn’t want to move, not at all.
Because he was sharing his seat with one Tony Stark, who was sitting quite
close to him. So close that Peter could feel Tony’s beard scraping his cheek.
The longer they sat that way, the harder things became.
The harder it became for Peter to believe it… why was Tony paying so much attention to him? He was just a kid (okay, a young adult) and Tony could have anybody. Peter was barely even an Avenger… and Tony could have any Avenger. There were certainly rumors about him and Captain America (although the rumors were that hate-fucking was involved) but Tony wasn’t sitting next to Steve, thigh to thigh, cheek to cheek.
That’s why it was so hard for Peter to sit still. He kept moving his thigh just a little, pressing it even closer to Tony’s leg. And every time Tony pressed closer - his face was completely pressed against Peter’s face now, so much that Peter could feel his jaw move as he spoke. He was speaking about normal tech-stuff, but his voice was low and conspiratorial, almost secretive. Peter had no idea what the others around him must have thought they were conspiring about… or if they had an opinion about Tony snuggling up next to him at all.
Peter tried to listen to what Tony was saying, to follow enough to keep up his side of the conversation. But all he could think about was Bruce Banner, and how easy and relaxed Tony always was with that man (and why shouldn’t they be? Easy and relaxed? It made sense. Bruce was brilliant.) Rumor had it they were sleeping together, at least in a friends-with-benefits style. Of course rumor also had it they had a bar somewhere on some island that they had built by hand - you couldn’t believe every rumor you heard.
And Steve… there were rumors about Tony and Steve, rumors that Peter tried hard not to listen to (and spent many a night trying not to think about.) Rumors about hatefucking and lover’s quarrels and, worst of all, who would obviously be topping and who would obviously be…
And then there was the wizard… dear god how did Peter manage to forget about the wizard? Those were the strangest rumors of all (no pun intended.) Two devilish, devastatingly handsome men, both bearded, both arrogant as fuck, and both intelligent enough to almost justify their egos. Both brought low by devastating physical injuries that changed the trajectories of their life.
Both tops.
Obviously.
And there would be rumors about this, there had to be. Tony was sitting right next to him right here, right in the middle of this fair, this rainy-fireworks rotating-building fair. Sitting side by side. Knee to knee. Cheek to cheek. Tony was asking him something now, and waiting for an answer, but Peter couldn’t quite remember what the question had been. His brain had been so busy trying to puzzle out the top/bottom puzzle he had almost imagined that this was the question Tony had posed. But Tony couldn’t have asked that question, and Peter couldn’t imagine what the actual question had been. He turned to Tony to ask…
…but that just moved their mouths closer together. Which meant that Tony’s mouth was now so close to his that he could taste Tony’s breath. And Tony wasn’t pulling away. Tony’s mouth, slightly open, so deliciously close, wasn’t moving away at all.
Peter woke up.
* * *
He blinked in some confusion at the ceiling above him that wasn’t his dorm room ceiling… but of course. That was Tony’s ceiling. He had slept over at the penthouse again because… what had been the excuse this time? Oh yeah - the air conditioning in the dorms had gone out. Maybe. He had heard and had believed without really going back to check or texting anyone to confirm. So here he was, sleeping over at Tony’s once again, enjoying his excellent air conditioning and the last time he could use that lame excuse. He would have to start working on another one soon.
Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would stop all this ridiculous pining and tagging along and mooning over a man who would obviously never look at him twice. Would never have a reason to look at him twice. Surrounded by Amazing Incredible Impossible Avengers, by First Tier Avengers, Peter was barely even noticeable. Heroes like Tony and Bruce and Captain America - those were the Title Characters of movies. Movies? More like the Title Characters of trilogies. He barely rated Spunky Sidekick that the hero picked up in the second movie… hell was he even that?? He might just be the comic relief.
He climbed out of the giant bed in the guest bedroom and headed to the bathroom. Then he spent a little time pacing the floor, talking to himself. Spent a bit looking through a curtain down at the magnificent penthouse view. Wondering, as he always did, who else had enjoyed this view on a night just like this. Did Bruce find it peaceful, or stress-inducing? Did Dr. Strange, a lifetime New Yorker, even notice it at all? Did Steve Rogers ever look down on it in the nude, or was he always decently clad in pajamas instead?
Finally, Peter gave up. He was done moping. He was done mooning. Done being pathetic. This was the last night, he promised himself, that he wasted dreaming of Tony Stark.
Like rainy-day fireworks, some things just didn’t make sense.
* * *
Tony, asleep in his lab, awoke when FRIDAY informed him of Peter’s movements. Through a subtly placed security camera Tony watched Peter walk into the bathroom. Pace the floor. Gaze out the window. The boy seemed to be talking to himself, seemed to be worried about something. Maybe wondering why the broken old man had talked him into sleeping over one more night. Peter was probably getting tired of Tony’s constant requests - seeing through the flimsy excuses. Make-believe repairs to the suit over minor issues, possible-maybe hairbrained ideas of improvements to his suits that he just had to have Peter advise on because that made so much sense. Peter usually slept the sleep of the innocent when he stayed at the penthouse. Tony knew. Tony knew everything.
But not tonight. Maybe his hero was finally wising up to Tony’s endless neediness.
And that was probably best.
Finally Peter lay back down in his bed, and Tony lay his head back down on the lab table.
He didn’t sleep in his own bed, not on nights when Peter stayed.
He didn’t dare.
Because when Tony Stark lay down in his own bed? He only dreamt of one thing. And that was one thing he couldn’t have.
