So the saying goes: the eyes are the window to the soul. Peter Parker had always thought that phrase made perfect sense, seeing as how he himself had always been really easy to read. Everything you needed to know about how Peter was feeling at any given moment could be gathered from his facial expressions. And what little he did manage conceal always showed up in his eyes.
As with most things, however, this phrase did not apply to Tony Stark.
For all of the bravado, swagger, and rock-star charisma Anthony Edward Stark possessed, the man was horrible at expressing himself and at engaging in genuine interactions with people he was not already familiar with.
He wasn't cold, per say. But there was a constant wall around him. The eyes may be the window to the soul, but Tony had obviously invested in thick curtains. Very stylish, expensive, custom-made curtains. Usually purple, blue or pink. Depending on the day and his mood.
In the two years that he had known Tony, Peter had the opportunity (and sometimes misfortune) of seeing how his mentor interacted with people he was not close with. That list was rather long, and essentially included anyone who was not Pepper, Rhodey, Peter, Happy, or an Avenger (and even that group fluctuated from month to month). He'd seen how his mentor handled meetings with government officials, SHIELD Agents, Stark Industry employees and baristas-with an air of professional disinterest, good-natured joking, and limited eye contact.
Tony hardly ever looked people in the eye when they were talking to him- always choosing instead to fiddle with his SI Watch, his phone, or….well literally anything he could get his hands on because the man could never sit still. He multi-tasked when being briefed by his team, splitting his attention between multiple conversations at once. Peter had even seen how Tony watched TV- which was not at all. He listened to movies and shows rather than watching them all the way through. Which drove Peter crazy the few times he'd tried to have Star Wars movie nights.
"TONY! You're missing everything! You have to see this- look at how they use the light sab-ugh, forget it."
The tinted glasses were always on. If they weren't already on his face when he encountered strangers, he'd shove them on at the first opportunity. Always with a movie star flick of his wrist into his pocket and back to his face.
They were meant to guard him. To cover. Peter could see the intention- Tony could protect his information, his feelings, and his fears (yes, even Iron Man had them) as long as he kept the glasses on.
So Peter always knew Tony really meant business when he whipped off those shades.
Tony would always remove them right before a mission. He'd walk briskly and purposefully down to his lab to hastily scroll through his many megatron- looking computer screens, and with a swipe of his hand the glasses would be tucked away carelessly into his pocket.
Such important matters (like the impending doom of the universe) required Tony's full, unfiltered and uncolored attention.
He'd also noticed that Tony had acquired the habit of taking off his shades immediately whenever he met with Aunt May. Peter wasn't supposed to have overheard, but his super-hearing had made him privy to a conversation the two adults had a few months after Homecoming. May had told Tony, loudly and brashly as was her way, that no matter how many fancy suits and gadgets he fashioned for Peter she still couldn't find it in her to trust him.
"This is what it comes down to- I can't read you, Stark. And until I can, I can't entirely trust you. Not with Peter. Not with my kid."
Since then, Peter had never seen Tony wear his glasses for longer than a few seconds around May. When she spoke, he gave her his full attention. And May had started to relax a bit with him, even if she didn't realize she was doing so.
A few weeks after that, Peter was surprised to notice something else: Mr. Stark never kept the shades on when they were alone together.
Tinkering together in the lab, laughing over another one of DUM-E's failed cooking experiments, riding silently in the backseat of Happy's car, Tony's eyes remained unguarded. No curtains.
After every mission, Tony whipped off his rose colored glasses to peer at Peter and pore over his form in search of injuries he silently prayed he would not find.
Every time Peter tried to lie about his school grades or the details of a solo mission (which eventually he stopped doing because damn he was horrible at it), Tony would narrow his eyes at him. The shrewdness of the look always made Peter feel simultaneously cagey and cared for.
Peter's collection of nerdy science t-shirts had grown, because he liked the amused eye roll Tony would give him each time he showed up with a new one.
Every time Peter challenged Tony on one of his older engineering formulas ("you've got some nerve kid, trying to disprove me in my own home. You might be on to something though…") the man's eyes would light up with disbelief and a little bit of what Peter thought was pride.
And sometimes, when he though Peter wasn't looking, Tony would just look at him. Peter had tried to catch it, tried to identify it. The look was somewhere between fondness, exasperation, curiosity and…
Something else he couldn't quite name. But God did it remind him of Uncle Ben. And that made him a little sad, a little hurt, but it also made him feel warm and…. ok. It make his cheeks twitch into a smile and it made his fingers restless, wanting to grasp at the feeling under Tony's gaze but knowing the man would never say anything about it or want it acknowledged. It made him giddily grateful to have been internet-stalked on Youtube, and proud that Tony had been impressed enough to seek him out. It made him hopeful that he'd get to spend time with his mentor before whatever was about to happen to their universe happened….
Tony always gave Peter sensory overload when he looked at him. Because Tony only really looked at things that were important to him.