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Flying

Peter Parker x Reader x Dad!Tony

A/N: I told y’all I had one coming! Peter is honestly so adorable!! Happy reading! :) I’m thinking another x-men next??? I guess we’ll see! Reminder-Requests are open!! Send me a prompt, or any idea really! I’d love to write something for you guys!!

Word Count: 3,020 (haha oops)

Masterlist

Being the child of both the smartest and richest man in New York had its perks. Right now, you were enjoying one of them, enjoying the view from the top of Stark Tower as you curled up with a book, basking in the summer heat and feeling the light breeze through your hair.

It was the first time you’d had the opportunity to read your book all week, and you were loving the silence this time alone brought you. Your dad had just gotten home from a long mission, and refused to leave you alone for more than two seconds all week. But you had woken this morning to find a note on the counter, explaining how he had to leave on urgent business in the middle of the night.

After years of impromptu Avengers missions, you knew the drill. He’d be back when he’d be back, and for now, the penthouse suite of Stark Tower was yours to do whatever you wanted.

And right now, that meant a quiet morning with your book. The silence was so unbelievable that you almost didn’t bat an eye when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. Almost.

Knowing your father wouldn’t be home anytime soon, your first instinct was to freeze, the book in your hands no longer holding your interest. But the voice that came next belonged to a teenage boy.

“Excuse me, do you know where Tony Stark is?” you heard, and you spun around in your seat to find a boy around your age, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a cheesy pun about periodic tables.

Frowning, you stood up from your seat. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

The boy flushed, shifting his weight as he looked at you apologetically. “Sorry, I know this is Mr. Stark’s private penthouse, but I was supposed to meet him today, and Happy told me he might be up here?”

“He’s out,” you replied, still intrigued by the stranger across from you.

“And you’re his…”

“Kid,” you answered, crossing your arms. “Why are you meeting with my dad?”

The kid shifted again, very obviously uncomfortable. “I-I’m...an intern. I work with your father?”

You didn’t need the boy’s horrible lying abilities to know that your father didn’t have any teenage interns working for his company. Not any that were allowed to come up to his penthouse suite to have a chat with him, anyway. But it took you a few seconds to register what that meant. A teenage boy, in the city, who came to have meetings with your father?

“You’re Spiderman!” You said, finally coming to the realization. The boy went pale, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m not gonna rat you out or anything. It’s not like you’re going to be able to lie your way out of it; you’ve already proven yourself to be pretty horrible at that.”

He smiled sheepishly, but held out his hand. “Peter Parker,” he said, and you shook his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N Stark,” you added, “but it seems like you already knew that.”

“Well, y/n,” Peter said, “I guess I should leave to your book. It was nice meeting you!” He smiled kindly, waving awkwardly as he turned around.

“Wait!” you yelled, and then smiled, composing yourself as he turned back towards you. “You should stay. My dad might be home soon, and if he was asking to meet with you, I’m sure it was important.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Peter said, motioning to your setup on the chair.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not intruding on anything. Sit down,” you said, motioning to the other chairs around you, slumping back into your own seat. Peter took a seat, but he looked hesitant, perched uncomfortably on the edge of his chair.

You ignored this and returned to gazing at the skyline. “It’s a nice view, huh?” you asked.

Peter let out a breath you didn’t know he’d been holding in, settling into his chair. “It’s beautiful.”

“It looks so distant, though. I mean, I know we’re right in the middle of it, but it feels like there’s a glass wall between us and the city.” You looked at him thoughtfully. “What would happen if you jumped off the building right now?”

He laughed. “Well, since I’m not wearing my suit, I would most likely fall to my death.” You snorted.

“But if you were wearing it. You’d just fly.” You sighed. “Sounds freeing.” The next few moments passed in silence, and you glanced at Peter, who looked unsure of what to say. You decided to change the subject. “So, you’re in high school, right? Where do you go to school?”

“Midtown School of Science and Technology,” Peter recited. You nodded, recognizing the name as a well known STEM school in the city. “You?”

You shook your head. “I’m homeschooled. When my dad has time, he teaches me, but I have some tutors both online and that come here sometimes. I don’t leave the tower very much. Does it show?” You teased, laughing.

He laughed too, but he shook his head. “Not really.”

“So why are you meeting my father, Spiderman? I heard you’d given up your Avenger’s position to stay local.”

“Mr. Stark likes me to check in every once in awhile,” Peter answered. “He makes adjustments to my suit too.”

“Why did you do it?” you asked curiously.

“I’m not like your dad, or any of the Avengers. I’m Peter Parker, I’m no one, and my talents are better served as a friendly neighborhood Spiderman than someone who saves the world.” He looked down at his lap. “It was cowardly, I guess.” You frowned.

“It’s noble.” Peter looked up. You were about to go into a speech about how helping the little guy was just as important as saving the world when Peter stood up abruptly.

“I really should go. Mr. Stark’s not going to be here anytime soon, is he?”

You sighed. “Probably not,” you answered honestly.

Peter nodded, heading towards the door. “It was nice talking to you,” he said, smiling kindly. He looked like a puppy dog, and his soft brown eyes made you smile.

“Is it alright if I text you?” you asked, surprising yourself, and Peter it seemed, who flushed red quicker than you imagined possible. “I don’t have a lot of friends my age, you know, with the homeschooling and everything,” you explained. Peter nodded his head, and you swore you saw a smile on his face. You stood up quickly, pulling your phone from your pocket. You already had a new text message opened by the time you made it to Peter. You handed him your phone, and he typed in a number. When you got the phone back, you typed a quick “sup” with the peace sign emoji, and sent it. It took seconds for Peter’s phone to buzz, his screen lighting up as he added you to his contacts as well.

Peter looked up from his phone, looking as if he wanted to say something, but then he bit his lip and said, “See you around, y/n.”

You smiled. “See you around, Spiderman.”

When your father got home later that evening, you told him about Peter’s visit.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony said, scratching his face. “Yeah, he’s this new intern at Stark Industries.”

“I already know he’s Spiderman, dad,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But thanks for your trust in me.”

Tony winked at you. “How’d you find out? Did he tell you?”

“Please. What kind of teenage intern would be allowed to visit you in your penthouse suite?”

“Touché.”

“How was your mission?” you asked curiously.

“You know I’m not allowed to disclose details,” Tony said, waving you off.

“Pretty please?” you asked, batting your eyes. “You know I’ll just hack into your mission files tomorrow.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

“Fine.”

“Yay!”

You decided to send Peter a text for the first time the next morning. Tony was making waffles, and you were tasting the batter as you balanced a calculus textbook on your lap.

Tony was rambling on about the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus, which you had neglected to tell him was the subject of the week before’s lesson with your tutor Mrs. Greene. Your phone was unlocked, sitting on the textbook, and you pulled up Peter’s contact info, biting your lip as you debated tapping the message button. Taking a deep breath, you clicked on it, and your heartbeat sped up as the text message opened.

You settled on a cute Spiderman meme, a little teasing in nature, and hit send before you had the chance to talk yourself out of it.

“I feel like you’re ignoring me,” Tony huffed dramatically. He set a waffle on your plate, pouting like a child.

“You’re right,” you said, grinning as you took a big bite.

Tony sighed. “Just do your homework, kid.”

“Will do.”

The rest of your breakfast was in silence as Tony continued piling waffles on your plate as you worked your way through advanced calculus problems. When you felt a light buzz on your lap, you almost jumped in your seat.

Peter’s response was a quick gif of your dad with the caption “I AM IRON MAN”. You giggled lightly, sending a quick response before you locked your phone again.

“What so funny?” Tony asked, leaning over the counter. “Certainly not the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus?”

You laughed again. “Apparently they’re making memes about you, Dad.”

Tony frowned. “Who’s making memes about me?” You shrugged, laughing harder at his expression. “Alright, that’s it.” He grabbed your plate, despite your protests. “Go to your room. Maybe you can focus better in there.”

But it didn’t really improve your focus as much as your father had hoped. On your way back to your bedroom, you texted Peter again. Great, you got me in trouble with my dad. Way to go. 🙄

Sorry :(

When arrived at your room, you threw the calculus book on the floor, forgotten, as you climbed onto your bed.

I’m not sure if he’s upset or ecstatic that he’s essentially a walking meme.

Ecstatic. For sure.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you and Peter became close friends over text. Despite never seeing each other in person, you held conversations over text message past midnight every night, fell asleep to each other’s voices on the phone, and were the first to say good morning the next day.

You awoke one Saturday morning to a couple of text tones coming from the nightstand beside your bed. You pulled it towards you, unlocking it as you blinked sleepily. Unable to read the messages on the bright screen, you decided to call Peter. He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N?”

“Hey Pete.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you wanna do something today?” You asked in between a yawn. When the other end was silent for a couple of moments, you felt your heartbeat quicken, worried you had crossed a line. You and Peter had not met in person since the day you had met, a little over a month ago. You sat up in your bed, waking up quickly. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry, I totally understand if-”

“No,” Peter interrupted, “no no no no no!” You laughed a little as his insistence. “I’d love to. It’s just,” he sighed, “the Homecoming dance is tonight, and I promised Aunt May I’d let her help me get ready.”

“Ooh, Homecoming. Sounds fun! Got a hot date?”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, no. I wouldn’t go at all if Ned hadn’t insisted I come. But he got a date, asked her just yesterday.”

“Poor Peter,” you teased. “At the dance all by himself.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll just hide in the bathroom the whole time.”

You laughed. “I have a feeling that’s what I’d do during a school dance, too.”

“Wait,” Peter said, coming to a realization. “You’ve never been to a school dance.” He said it rather than asked it, but you felt yourself nod, even though he wouldn’t be able to see. You felt your heart thudding in your chest. “Would you like to go to one?” His voice was small, as if he was nervous.

“That sounds like fun, Pete,” you said, surprised you were able to form complete sentences. Nervous excitement fluttered through your veins, and you felt your cheeks flush as you heard Peter’s “Awesome!”

You thought your dad would’ve been mad hearing that you’d made plans without asking him, but as you soon understood, to Tony Stark, Peter was about the least dangerous person his child could be spending their time with.

It didn’t take long for your father to buy you an outfit to be brought to Stark Tower. What took a long time was the hour after you had finished getting ready, just following dinner that night, when you had to wait for Peter to arrive. Your father had refused to let you wait downstairs, so you had to stand outside the elevator door, waiting for the light to flash and the doors to open.

You were drumming your fingers on your knee when you heard the ping. Standing up and straightening out your clothes, you took a deep breath.

But when the doors opened, it was simply Happy, with a light smile on his face, his eyebrows raised at your not-so-friendly glare.

“I thought you were Peter,” you mumbled, sighing. Happy chuckled.

“Good to see you too, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “How’s it going, Happy?” you asked, your hand returning to your knee, where it continued to tap anxiously.

“I’ve been pretty good actually,” Happy said. “The company’s doing well, your dad’s been off my back-” The elevator pinged again, and you jumped to your feet, ignoring Happy as you met eyes Peter through the slowly opening elevator doors.

He looked gorgeous. You had forgotten just how gorgeous he was. His black suit fit him perfectly, and his puppy dog eyes lit up when they saw you. “Y/N…” Peter said quietly, his voice fading out. You felt a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks heating up from his gaze. And then Tony Stark stepped in front of you, blocking your view.

“Peter.” Tony acknowledged.

“Mr-Mr. Stark,” Peter stuttered. “How...How’s it going?” His voice sounded small as Tony put an arm around his shoulder and ushered him into the apartment.

“Wonderful, Peter. Just wonderful.” You saw Peter flinch at the tight grip your father had on his arm. You rolled your eyes.

“Dad.” you said, your voice firm. Your dad looked at you then, an innocent look on his face.

“What, y/n? I just want to give your friend Pete a little talk.” You gave Peter an apologetic glance, but you figured he’d handle it fine; Tony wasn’t as scary as he liked to think he was.

After Peter’s face went pale from Tony’s threats, the two of you stood by the elevator door, wishing Happy and Tony a good night. When the elevator doors finally closed, you both let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that,” you said, a grin on your face. Peter laughed.

“It’s alright. I think your dad likes me.”

“I think he does too. He’s not good at admitting stuff like that.”

“Are you ready for the dance?” Peter asked, glancing over at you. He still seemed nervous, and you could feel the butterflies still fluttering around your stomach.

“No,” you answered honestly, chuckling softly. “I’m terrified.”

Your heart jumped when you felt Peter’s cool hands over your own. You looked at him, your breathing uneven. And then, before giving yourself the chance to change your mind, you pressed the stop button on the elevator, trapping the car between floors.

“Wha-” Peter started to ask, but you interrupted them.

“Before we get there,” you took a deep breath to steady yourself. “I just wanted to tell you...I really like you Pete, and I know you probably just asked me to this dance as a friend, but I just thought you should know.” Peter’s eyes widened, but he looked at a loss for words. Your heart was pounding, cheeks flushed in nervous embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you said as he stayed silent. You unwound your hand from his, the butterflies quickly turning into nausea. You felt tears well in your eyes as you desperately wished you hadn’t said anything at all.

“No!” Peter said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. Up close, you could see the pink tinting his cheeks, and you were sure he could feel your heartbeat from where his fingers gripped your wrist. “I...I didn’t invite you as more than a friend. I…” But you had gotten all the confirmation you needed.

You raised your free hand to cup his cheek, and leaned in the remaining distance. It was awkward at first, and your noses bumped together uncomfortably, but Peter wound his other arm around your waist, and you felt warm in all the places you were touching: your fingers on his cheek, his hand on your back, and his cool fingers wrapped around your wrist. When you pulled away (too soon in your opinion), you were both out of breath. You smiled up at Peter, your eyes opening slowly to meet his puppy dog ones. The moment would have been perfect, had it not been for the robotic voice that came on through the elevator’s intercom system.

“Y/N Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. You groaned, already knowing what this was about. “Your father would like to ask you to stop making out with your boyfriend long enough to resume the elevator functioning. All deliveries to the upper floors are being blocked.” Your face grew hot, and you buried it in Peter’s chest.

“Cameras,” you mumbled. Peter pressed the button to start the elevator again, but you suspected his cheeks were as red as yours. “My dad’s going to kill you.”