Dexter is horrible.
Tony can understand- at least on a purely superficial level- why Pepper might have thought they were a good match. But hell, Tony’s counting down the seconds till he can get out of this restaurant and into his limo- very much alone.
He’s wondering why Pepper’s done this to him. Is it a punishment? Did he forget to sign some contracts again?
Because even though Dexter is handsome- and he is handsome, just Tony’s type. Fit, and compact with big eyes and a slender build- fair and beautiful, but he’s…dull. Boring. Painfully average and just this side of rude.
Normally, Tony wouldn’t put up with it. He’d have made a crass comment and walked out, but this is a fancy place, and he’s already had enough public scandals for the past month. So, for this evening- and only this evening- he puts up with Dexter’s admission that not only does he not have a Stark Phone, but he actually owns an Oscorp Laptop.
Tony must have forgotten to sign some papers. This is definitely a punishment. Only Pepper would be this cruel.
Dexter nearly leaps out of his seat in outrage and Tony startles, before quickly hiding his grin behind his hand at the huge wet stain all over the man’s trousers.
“I-I’m so sorry, Sir! Oh god- I’m- I’ll pay to have that dry cleaned!” Comes the stumbling, apologetic plea of the waiter, and Tony tries to hide his laughter in his steak as Dexter angrily stomps to the bathroom.
Ah, bliss. He’s free of the man’s company for a few minutes. He turns to the waiter gratefully, only to see the young man hurriedly packing things back onto the tray.
He watches casually as the waiter picks up the glass and hums consideringly at the pert, round ass clad in tight black pants, and as the waiter gets up- sees his face.
Oh, he’s so pretty. Tony feels his mouth water and he’s just about to try his smoothest pick up line- when something clicks.
Dexter’s order had come wrong, when they first arrived. His steak was well done when he’d asked for rare. His lime-infused source had apparently reeked of lemon, and- Tony looks down at their wine-glasses.
His own has been refilled with deep burgundy, and Dexter’s is empty.
The waiter can obviously tell what Tony’s realised, because he blushes (pretty, pretty, pretty Tony thinks on repeat. Is he broken?) and reaches to mop up the damp around Dexter’s plate. “In no universe does Oscorp broadband run faster than SI’s.” The waiter murmurs matter-of-factly, cheeks still pink but eyes sparkling and honest, and holy shit, Tony is in love.
“What time do you get off?” He asks, intrigued beyond belief, and the waiter shoots him a half scandalised, half delighted look, before Dexter comes back.
He shoots a glare at the waiter, and Tony feels a surge of protectiveness rise up. He stands up, balling his napkin and tossing it onto the table. Dexter frowns up at him, and the waiter is staring warily.
“Dexter,” Tony sighs, raising his wine glass, and the other guests turn to look, and fuck it, it’s just another scandal- “This has been horrible.” And he tips his wine all over the man’s insufferable face.
He feels maybe a little bad about it, but then the waiter is beaming and saying-
“I’m Peter Parker. You can pick me up from here tomorrow at 8.”
“What the fuck?!” Dexter screeches, but Tony hardly hears him, because Peter’s pressed a card into the palm of Tony’s hand and it’s white and pristine and all it says is-
You’re welcome- Pepper x
