While Peter sobs and Tony tries to comfort him with a look that is close to confusion, Stephen moves closer, lowering his voice to speak directly to Tony. "Perhaps Peter would be more comfortable back at Stark Tower," he prompts the other man, because he knows how much Peter hates it when he shows heavy emotion in front of other people.
That has Tony nodding, strong arms carrying Peter as his husband sobs. Soon enough they're all back at the Tower, with everyone going to their respective areas, except Stephen doesn't have one. And he finds himself at his most protective, now that he really should be leaving Peter alone with Tony. Instead of doing that, he follows after them into the penthouse, and Tony doesn't seem to mind, because the man probably has questions to ask.
"How long?" Tony does in fact ask, smoothing Peter's hair as he sits down in a chair and settles Peter into his lap, watching Strange. "How long was this for you two? It was only a minute or so for me."
"Two years," Stephen tells Tony, settling on the couch across from the chair, folding his hands over his flat stomach.
"It was a long time, Mr. Stark," Peter sniffles mournfully as he watches Stephen, like the man is his lifeline. "We lived in Mexico."
It's not just the information Tony takes in, but the way Peter looks at Strange, and the way Strange watches over Peter like he's… Protecting him. It's all of that, that has Tony asking quietly next, "So, you two lived together for two years, right?" He doesn't wait for the answer. "Were you lovers?"
Peter goes ashen faced at the question and stares down at his hands. "No," he says hoarsely, his throat tight, like maybe he's going to be sick. "No, we never were."
"Then why is Strange looking at you like… whatever the hell I could even call that look?" Tony says as if he's asking Peter, but he's looking at Strange as he says it, waiting for the man to answer him instead.
"I love him," Stephen says simply. "I love him, and if you punish him for that, I'll-"
The threat is cut off by Peter climbing quickly out of Tony's lap and rushing for the closest bathroom. The door slams shut and there's the sound of retching for long minutes while Peter heaves. When he's finished, he sits with his back to the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest.
He's a grown man for chrissakes. Why's he in the bathroom puking his guts out over stress when there's more important shit to talk about? The mental chastising does nothing to stop the roiling of his stomach or make him ready to go out and face the other two men.
"Knock, or I'm knocking," Stephen tells Tony. They've been standing outside the bathroom door the entire time.
"I was about to fucking knock, you prick," Tony snarls, before clearing his throat, and knocking politely on the bathroom door. "Are you okay in there, kid? Didn't fall in the toilet, right? Because, you know, we don't hear anything anymore, and we're starting to worry."
"Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'm okay," Peter replies with a rising note of hysteria in his voice. Tony hates him. He thinks he slept with Doc.
Stephen opens the door, and Tony ducks under the taller man's arm, darting ahead of him and into the bathroom. He drops down in front of Peter, and leans in, peering at his face. "Hey. It's okay. Everything is okay now. You're home."
"That's not his concern," Stephen tells Tony, struggling for patience. "He thinks you hate him, now. That was his biggest fear, that you wouldn't want him when he returned to you."
"What? No, I don't hate Peter!" Tony rushes to say, looking from Strange and back to his husband. "I could never hate you, Peter. I mean, seriously. You could do anything and I wouldn't hate you. I just asked really stupid questions a few minutes ago so I can get a complete picture of what's going on here."
Peter nods, and drags himself to his feet. "I need to brush my teeth. Give me a second. I have my toothbrush in my bag."
"Okay," Tony says, straightening back to his feet after that. He watches Peter trudge off, and then levels Strange with a stare.
"Smooth," Stephen comments with a faint smirk.
"Fuck you. If you were so slick, he wouldn't be in love with me anymore," Tony fires back, stalking out of the bathroom and into the living room to sit down.
Stephen considers, then follows after Peter instead.
Tony's eyes widen like saucers as he watches the tall man disappear into the bedroom, presumably to the bathroom where Peter is brushing his teeth. He decides against stalking after the man to see what's going on, but he is definitely sitting quietly, so he can try to hear things. He's probably not close enough, though. It's a big penthouse. Damn, being rich!
Stephen knocks on the bathroom door, and Peter calls him in. The man enters, then shuts the door behind him. He doesn't lock it, though, because locking Iron Man out of any room is a great way to get a door blown to bits. "How are you holding up, Peter?" Stephen asks quietly.
"Look, water from the faucet you can actually brush your teeth with," Peter says, motioning to the sink. "Been a while since I've seen that." He sighs and looks down at his toothbrush. "It's all different, now. I don't know how to start."
Stephen smiles slightly as Peter points out the drinkable water, then he speaks quietly again. "It'll all sort itself out, after I've left you two alone. I just… Needed to make sure you'd be okay. He clearly loves you. All your fears were for nothing."
"I don't want you to go," Peter says quietly. "I'm scared, without you. But, I guess I have to let you live your life, too, huh? You can't be at my beck and call forever," he looks up to the taller man with a sad smile. "I ask too much of you, as it is. I'm a selfish little spider."
Careful fingers lift, and sift through shaggy hair. He's always wondered what it might be like to caress the strands. He's not sure why this moment felt like the right moment to allow himself the agony. "You are my life, Peter. I don't imagine there will be a moment that will come to pass where I won't be at your beck and call, should you will it," Stephen says hoarsely, fingers falling away from his hair, only to trace down a tear stained cheek.
Peter throws himself into Stephen's arms, hugging his friend fiercely. "I love you, Stephen," he says hoarsely, because it feels like this might actually be his last chance to say it. To say the actual words, instead of telling him he doesn't hate him. How strange that it should be now, when Tony's out front waiting for him, rather than during the two years they were each other's best friends and confidants.
Strong arms wrap around Peter, and the older man takes in a sharp breath when those words are said to him. A hand comes up to cup the back of Peter's head, stroking his hair with exceedingly careful motions, while his other hand rubs up and down his back. "I love you, too, Peter," Stephen says thickly. He swallows hard, then turns his head, and presses a soft kiss to the younger man's temple.
Peter soaks in that kiss, then leans back. "We should get back out front, before Tony decides we're up to no good and blows the door off the hinges," he says quietly.
Stephen nods, and slowly slides his hands off of Peter. Then he opens the door for the younger man, and waits for him to step through it. It feels good, giving himself the freedom to get the door for Peter. He follows along at a short distance from the younger man, watching as Peter walks back to where Tony sits.
Tony looks apprehensive as he watches the two men come back, swallowing hard as he looks from Peter to Strange, then back to Peter. He stands, dark eyes staring into Peter's. "I'm just glad I didn't lose you forever, Peter Stark. I'm so sorry you lost me, for awhile there."
"I had to live through a year of you and Pepper," Peter says woodenly, staring at the ground by his feet. "It was kind of hard to avoid, even in Mexico. You were all over the tv. Last year was easier. The past few months, knowing you knew us but not being able to come to you. That was tough."
"I love you so much," Tony tells Peter hoarsely. He takes in a couple of deep breaths. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that. I'm just so grateful you're alive." He tears his gaze off of Peter, and glances at Strange. "Hell, I'm even grateful you didn't have to live alone. Didn't have to go through all that alone."
"Yeah, me, too. That would have sucked." Peter backtracks a couple of steps to the couch and sinks down on it, feeling like he's in shock right now. "Ask me questions, Tony. Whatever you want to know. I think I can answer questions, but I don't think I can just tell it straight."
Stephen does Tony a favor, and steals his chair, leaving Tony to naturally move to sitting on the couch near his husband.
Tony doesn't quite understand why there's this chasm between him and Peter. Sure, Strange said he loves Peter, but so what? What's not to love about Peter? Any hot blooded person would love Peter, especially after spending so much time with him. Peter's amazing.
"What am I doing wrong?" Tony asks, even though he knows that's not what Peter meant by questions. "Because I want to do whatever I can right, so I don't feel like you're sand slipping through my fingers."
Tony may be onto something with that analogy, because Peter feels it too, even though he didn't know it until he said as much. "I don't know," he whispers softly. "Maybe you could kiss me. You haven't done that yet. And I haven't kissed you in so long." There's more than a little fear with the words, because what if that doesn't work? This moment has been the focal point of Peter's being for so long, and it's not going the way he'd hoped, at all.
No pressure, right? Tony nods, and cups Peter's face with a lightly calloused hand, thumb going to his chin to tip it just right to set soft lips up for a kiss. Then he leans in, closing his eyes as their lips touch, a mental, oh God, please, forming in his head as he begins to kiss Peter. Fingers push into shaggy hair, and tighten at the back of his head, Tony's body knowing what to do, even when he feels lost, and scared. It shows in the way he growls as the taste of Peter's mouth hits his system, tongue taking what's his in long, slow, thorough thrusts.
Perhaps if Stephen were a man less into his own suffering, he would have politely looked away from that kiss. Instead, he watches for a long moment, and lets it sink in. This is happening. This is the present. This will be their future. And, just as he said, everything is starting to fall into place. With that thought in mind, he rises from the chair, and heads for the elevator, hoping to give Peter and Tony alone time.
The kiss is different from what he remembers, but it's good. Heat rises in Peter's cheeks as Tony claims his mouth with those long strokes of his tongue, but he breaks the kiss when Stephen rises to leave. He wants to beg him to stay, but doing so would only hurt both men, so he watches him leave with sad eyes, then rests his head on Tony's shoulder to catch his breath when it feels like he can't draw one in.
Stephen can feel those sad eyes on him, but he doesn't look back. He tells himself it's so he doesn't punch Tony into a time vortex, but, really, maybe Stephen's just a coward. The same coward he's been for the past two years. He steps into the elevator, presses the button, and lets the doors shut him out of the situation.
Tony watches with a sinking sort of feeling in his stomach as Peter gives Strange that look. Like Peter's a puppy, and his person is leaving. That person used to be Tony. Sure, maybe it still is him, in a way, judging by the way Peter had raced down the street to leap on him when he got back, but that's what a puppy does, when they see former friends as much as they do their owners. His hand gentles in Peter's hair as the man rests his head on his shoulder and catches his breath, petting the shaggy strands.
"So, should I let him leave the building before I go running after him for you, or do you think it's a dumb idea, because he's probably done his sparkly portal thing by now anyway?" Tony asks, being braver than he really feels at this moment.
"He won't use a portal out of here," Peter says certainly. "He'll want the time to think before he gets home." He slides a little closer, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist to hold him close. He's really fucking this up, if Tony's ready to leave and dump him on Stephen.
"So… should I?" Tony repeats, just doing the short version of the question, even as strong arms pull Peter that much closer. "Because if you want a pet sorcerer, I could get used to it. You'll have to clean up after him and feed him yourself, though," Tony tells him in a voice that he's proud of for being so steady. It's just that… Tony's a genius. He sees where this is going, if he doesn't think to make some compromises.
"No. Doc's not a pet," Peter says softly. "I don't think it would be very fair of me to make him watch us together. And that's still what I want, Tony. Us. Like we used to be, if I can remember what I was like for you." It's all so far away, and all he feels right now are the ways he's different.
Well, there goes that tidy little solution. Guess they'll be doing this the slow, painful death of their relationship way, then. Tony puts on a smile that doesn't touch his eyes, but Peter can't see it anyway, not with his head on his shoulder. "You're doing great so far, Peter Stark. I'm just glad you're back."
"Say my name again," Peter begs, as the sound of it makes his heart stutter again. "I haven't heard it in so long," his voice breaks. "And it sounds so perfect when you say it."
"Peter Stark, my husband," Tony says softly, a hand petting Peter's hair ever so gently and carefully. Granted, he didn't have to wait two years for Peter to return to him, but that couple of minutes he was gone? And he didn't know if he was dead, or alive and lost, or anything? That had felt like forever.
Peter throws himself into kissing Tony, his hands cupping his jaw, then sliding down his neck to rest over his heart. The arc reactor warms his palm and Peter opens his mouth to Tony with a suck to his tongue that feels good. "I love you, Tony. I love you, and I never want to be apart from you again," he says desperately, when their lips part.
The reminder that this has been a long time for Peter, and he'd naturally want to stay close to Tony now, has Tony thinking. "I love you, too, Peter Stark," he tells Peter quietly. He slouches back on the couch, then lifts Peter up by the hips settling him into his lap in a straddle. Hands smooth over his hips slowly, and then he asks, "Where in Mexico did you live? I mean, what was the place like?"
"It was a little tourist town on the Sea of Cortez," Peter says, smiling fondly, when he thinks about all the time he spent on the beach. "Doc got it fixed up, so he could practice medicine down there and I tended bar at a beach club. I'm pretty good at mixing drinks now, if you're thirsty, Mr. Stark." He thinks for a few seconds. "Right after we got there, the owner, Rico, was kind of handsy and I was too dead inside to stand up for myself. Doc broke his nose, but he didn't tell me about it. Not for a year. I mean, I knew what he did, but he didn't say a word about it. Rico left me alone, after that. And I just... coasted through two years. No challenges, no Spider Man. Just me and that bar."
That's a lot of information to take in, but Tony relishes in it, letting the words paint a picture for him. The thing that sticks out the most, he comments on first, his voice quiet, fingers carding through Peter's hair. "Now, when you say he broke Rico's nose, did Strange, like, punch him in the face all cowboy, or did he make the guy trip while he pretended to read a newspaper?"
Peter chuckles at that, "It sounded like he pounded his face against the bar, but I had my back turned."
"You know what? Pounding the guy's face into the bar sounds even cooler than the cowboy option. Actually, I'm pretty sure cowboys in westerns did that, too," Tony says with a pleased grin for the chuckle he inspires. "I like that he kept that guy from hurting you. He wins at least a million internets for that."
"I was pretty good at deflecting him, but things were starting to escalate. I probably would have lost the job, if it hadn't been for Doc taking up for me like that. And that would have sucked, because the money was pretty good there. I got really good tips. You wouldn't believe how many phone numbers I threw away, Mr. Stark."
"I believe it. You're a little hottie Mc Hot-Hot," Tony pipes up, watching Peter with a proud expression on his face. "What's the biggest tip you ever got?" he's asking next, liking how these questions and this conversation seems to be relaxing Peter.
"$500 for pouring a shot of tequila, but I was flirting like crazy for it," Peter recalls with a grin. "It was this older lady, who was dropping hundreds all over the place, and one of the guys bet me I couldn't get a $300 tip out of her. I lost that phone number hard, but she came back a few nights in a row. Doc finally showed up to hang out at the end of the bar and give her the evil eye."
"Sounds like she got off easy, if he didn't break her nose," Tony drawls, stealing a quick kiss. He just keeps petting Peter's hair, and thinking on what else he might ask. "What did you do to stay in such great shape?"
"Nothing," he replies sheepishly, looking down at his body. "I drank a lot of beer on a lot of beaches. There wasn't much I could do, outside of a regular gym. No Spider Man, no flips, no flying through the air on a web. Just a little cardio and a lot of beer. It's going to take me forever to get back into fighting shape," his goes red in the face, all the way to the ears with the admission. "I rode the mechanical bull a lot, though. That was pretty decent exercise, I guess, when it was on high."
"A mechanical bull?" Tony asks, sounding impressed. He traces a red ear gently with his fingertips. "Did you win any prizes? And did Strange ride the bull, too, or was he more a guy that watched you ride the bull, while giving everyone that threw money at you dirty looks?"
Peter laughs again. "Yeah, a few, then they stopped me from entering the tournaments, because it wasn't fair to the tourists. I would ride in exhibition though, and Doc won a few, too. He's hard to throw, once he gets a good grip."
Tony smiles, pleased with himself for making Peter laugh. "Did you learn how to cook Mexican food while you were there?" A hand reaches for one of Peter's, lacing their fingers.
"Yeah. I guess that was my biggest hobby, while I was gone. I just cooked all the Mexican dishes I could find. I'm not too bad at it. And I make the best guacamole ever." Peter dips his head, kissing their joined fingers. He's feeling better, the more he talks, but the day is also starting to catch up to him. "Hey, Mr. Stark? Do you think we could continue this conversation in bed? I-" his voice thickens to the point he has to stop to clear his throat. "I want to be home. With you."
Tony nods, and gently lifts Peter out of his lap and onto his feet, moving to his own feet as well against the other man. He smooths his hair a moment, staring into his eyes, and then kisses him deeply, though he does so slowly once more. Once Peter's left panting against him, he takes the other man's hand and laces their fingers again, and murmurs, "Welcome home, Peter Stark." He tugs him toward the bedroom, and they tumble into bed together, talking until they fall asleep, Peter wrapped up tightly in Tony's arms.
#
The house on Bleecker Street, otherwise known as Sanctum Sanctorum. Doctor Strange makes his way inside from Tony's Tower, feeling numb. This is the culmination of all his hard work to do right by Peter. Now Peter is happy, and with Tony again. So why does Strange feel like he's had his heart pulled out of his chest?
The tall man makes his way up to the second floor, where his bedroom waits for him. It's exactly the way he left it, when the past him got up this morning. The bed is neatly made. Nothing is amiss. Stephen moves to sit on the edge of the bed, and remove his shoes. It's only the afternoon, but Stephen feels exhausted. He lies back on the bed, not bothering with the covers, and closes his eyes, hands folded over his chest.
Some time later, the sound of things being moved in the kitchen alerts Stephen to another person's presence in the house. He goes down the stairs, only to find the Ancient One, calmly preparing tea.
"Did you rest well?" she asks him, without looking away from the tray with the tea kettle and other accoutrements on it.
Pain is plain on Stephen's face, his voice tight as he speaks. "Yes, Ancient One." Not for the first time in his life, he feels fear at the sight of her. Granted, he hasn't been afraid since that first time they met and she threw him through all of time and several multiverses. Compared to what he's just endured with Peter, he'd take another one of those trips, instead.
"Good," she says simply, pouring his tea and handing him the cup. "I was pleasantly surprised to find you didn't reorganize the kitchen when you moved in," she says conversationally. "Making the tea is far easier, when you know where the ingredients are located."
"I didn't imagine I could improve upon anything," Stephen tells her, taking the cup with a quiet, "Thank you." He blows on the contents, then takes a slow drink. A part of him wants to barrage her with questions, but most of him is simply… Resigned. His lesson was clearly loving Peter, and all the pain that came along with not allowing himself to have him, because it wasn't the right thing to do.
"You aren't as resigned as you imagine," the Ancient One says, wrapping long-fingered hands around the cup. "You are angry and confused. You have questions." It's as much of a prompt as she's ever likely to give him.
Stephen sinks into a chair at the kitchen table, and tries to work past the numb to feel the anger underneath. The confusion is easier to access, but the pain is there, as fresh as it ever was, when he stops lying to himself long enough about being numb at all. Maybe he's just… He doesn't know.
"Why?" Stephen asks the Ancient One, the question as broad as the situation. There's so much to ask. And he can't imagine anything she says will make him feel an understanding that gives him peace.
"You were becoming inhuman," she tells him, as if that explains everything. "And that is very bad for this reality."
Oh, there's the anger. It narrows Stephen's eyes, and has him very slowly putting his cup of tea down on the table. "You, of course, realize what this has done to Peter. He will never be the young man he was two years ago."
The Ancient One's serene expression falters for just a moment, before she speaks. "The lesson was necessary, Dr. Strange. Things would have gone worse for him, if the course of reality had not been corrected."
Stephen wants to hold onto that anger, but it fades with the Ancient One's words. He resumes drinking his tea, brooding over this information. "I would not want things to be worse for Peter. He has gone through enough." The pain may not be over for Stephen, but he's certain Peter has everything he wants, now.
"Yes. Young Peter is at the center of so many threads. He hasn't had an easy life, nor will he," she says, and her face is troubled as she speaks. For all that she may seem cold, she is sensitive to the pain and suffering of others, mitigating it when she can, and only augmenting it when necessary.
"What can I do to make his life easier?" Stephen asks suddenly. Fate knows he's tried to do exactly that, for the past two years. Perhaps he's asking something he shouldn't. Perhaps he can't know about this future. But she prompted him his questions, and he's giving them to her.
"You already know the answer to that, Doctor," she says with sympathy in her voice. "He needs you. He will for a long time. You've chosen to bind your life to his and that brings both benefits and consequences for you both."
"Why him?" Stephen asks her, pain plain in his voice again. "Why not someone that I could have allowed myself to have? Would the lesson not have been learned just as easily?"
"There are a thousand people I would have chosen for you, over young Peter." The Ancient One locks her eyes with him over the rim of her cup. "I didn't choose him."
"Me?" Stephen asks softly, stunned. And then he remembers his words to Peter. How he knew he loved him the moment the Ancient One had made him disappear. Which means he must have chosen him to love before that moment, he just hadn't realized it yet. Shame sinks deep inside him, and he lowers his eyes. "I see."
"You do not. Your love is not something to be ashamed of, however it came to be or whoever you choose to gift it to," the Ancient One explains to him. "Young Peter will need you, before this is all over. He'll be better off for your love. So will anybody else you choose to give it to."
"I would give anything to him," Stephen swears it softly. "What will he need of me, before this is all over?"
"Would you like some more tea, Doctor?" she asks him softly, a serene smile telling him that she's unable to give him that answer.
"No, thank you. I still have plenty," Stephen replies.
"Yes. You do," she says, meaningfully.
And so they sit quietly, Stephen enjoying her company, as he always has. This is a rare gift, spending time with her. She died years back, after all.
#
Peter wakes slowly, confusion adling his still-sleepy brain. As his eyes slit open, he looks around the room, recognizing it immediately, even if this is the first time he's woken up in it in two years. There's a familiar warmth in the bed next to him and he closes his eyes before he speaks in a sleep-rough voice.
"How long have I been asleep?" It's been a few days since he was able to sleep, with the nervousness of his return eating away at both his conscious and his subconscious. Now he has no idea what time it may be or even what day.
"Six hours," Tony murmurs, fingers moving through Peter's shaggy hair slowly. He's been at that for the past thirty minutes, having liked the little noises his husband makes in his sleep from the attention.
"I really made it home," Peter says, wonder tinting his voice. He rolls onto his side, so he can stare at his husband, eyes going to the ring on his hand with a relieved smile. "I didn't break time, by accident."
"I guess I wouldn't know, if you had," Tony whispers, the gravity of that reality really hitting him hard. He looks to the ring on his hand as well, and thumbs it a little. His ring is so shiny and new, while Peter's has a worn gloss to it. He collects his hand, and kisses that ring, dark eyes staring at his husband's. "We have a wedding to get ready for."
"Yeah. The rehearsal dinner is tonight and the bachelor's parties," he realizes with a start. "Oh. I asked Doc to be a co-best man. Think we can work that in?" Peter sits up on one hand, using the other to wipe the sleep from his eyes. "Also, I'm a little intimidated by your bachelor party. I think Ned is planning Dungeons and Dragons."
"Rhodey has lost his mind with my party, yeah, pretty much," Tony agrees, thinking of all the strippers and other awesomeness that the man has alluded to. "And we need to get Strange fitted for a tux. Then I need to throw a LOT of money at a tailor to get it done in time. But I'm Tony Stark, so that's not a problem."
"Sorry 'bout the short notice," Peter says, feeling a little bit guilty for being jealous at how cool Tony's party sounds. "I'd have given you more, except, well, you know."
"You gonna kick his ass into gear for getting fitted and going to the rehearsal dinner, or should I? Because he's really more your friend," Tony points out, before shrugging a shoulder. "And. Yeah. I know," he says quietly.
"Okay. Cell phone." Peter says, looking around for his bag. "I guess I have two of those now. But, the only people who have the number for the Mexican one are Doc and Rico. I've got one of those switchy color block games on there that I've been playing for a couple years now. Maybe I can transfer the data to my other phone."
"Google Skynet should have your back on that one. Just sign into your Google account with it, now that you won't alert yourself or whatever precautions you must have taken." Tony Stark, awesome-o tech support. He stretches, and watches as Peter looks around for his bag, before he sees it first and grabs it, setting it on the bed beside his husband. "Here," he murmurs.
"I wasn't always careful," he says, a little shamefaced. "I couldn't stand it, that first Christmas. I missed you so bad, and I knew I didn't call to check in with you that day. So I called and pretended to be the younger me." Peter stares down at his hands remembering that conversation. It had been a mixed blessing, with hearing his husband's voice, but being rushed off the phone, because he was just some annoying kid.
Stunned eyes stare at Peter's. Christmas two years ago? He was with Pepper. He strains his brain to remember the conversation, because, now, he knows it was so very important. After a moment, it filters in. He'd been busy decorating some last minute stuff, trying to impress Pepper. He'd barely listened to anything Peter had said, lots of, 'Uh-huhs,' and, 'That's great, kid,' just to get rid of him while he directed some guys to bring in a giant stuffed animal. Because apparently he thought Pepper loved those. Tony swallows hard, and whispers, "I'm so sorry, Peter."
"It's fine. I was just some babbling kid. You had a life. I didn't expect more," Peter shrugs, and clears his throat with a long sniff. "You think we can get a haircut for me? I know they say no haircuts within a week of the big event, but people might wonder what's up, if I'm suddenly shaggy. And I want to look good for you."
It helps Tony recover from the shock of what he did without knowing it, when Peter babbles a little. He clears his throat, then speaks. "I didn't know about that rule. I totally got a haircut yesterday," Tony points out. "So if anyone's to blame for bad wedding juju, it'll be me."
"No bad wedding juju. We already had that," Peter says softly, climbing out of the bed and stretching. Apparently, push ups are no long a part of his morning routine, but he rummages through his bag, looking for the phone he should be using and finding it dead. Of course. It's been two years. "It's dead," he explains to Tony, tossing it to the foot of the bed and grabbing the Mexican phone to dial Doc.
At this point, Stephen has slept, had tea with the Ancient One, and gone grocery shopping, where he bought Dos Equis to put in his fridge. Over time, it just became the beer he drank, when he drank beer at all. Maybe he's sentimental, since it was the beer Peter handed to him on that first trip to the club Peter worked at in Mexico.
Still having his Mexican phone in his pocket, Stephen grabs it, and answers the call, "Yes, Peter?" Because of course it's Peter. It wouldn't be anyone else. Stephen didn't exactly make any friends, either, in Mexico.
"So, I asked a really big favor earlier, and if you changed you mind, it's totally cool. But, if you're still willing to be a best man, I need to get you fitted for a tux today," Peter babbles out, half sure Doc's just going to hang up on him and turn his phone off.
"Where do you need me? I'll be there," Stephen tells Peter solemnly. It's only been six hours or so, but he's missed Peter. It hurts, knowing Peter won't be coming home. At least not to the home they shared. Guess he won't be, either.
"Crap. I don't know. Hold on a second," he takes the phone away from his ear to confer with Tony on where to send him. When he has an address, he puts the phone back to his ear and repeats it, then says he'll text it, too, just in case. "Oh. And there's a bachelor party tonight. Ned's throwing it, so it'll probably be kind of lame, but I'd like it if you were there."
"Absolutely," Stephen tells him, his heart jumping almost painfully in his chest, it feels so good to get to see Peter at this likely boring party. His voice is level, however. "Text me the address to that, too, please."
"Will do, Doc." Peter tries to think up something to keep the man on the phone a little longer, but comes up short. Oh. Wait. "And there's a rehearsal dinner, before the bachelor parties. You can fight Ned over who doesn't have to make a speech. I'll text that address, too."
"It sounds like we're going to be very busy," Stephen murmurs, a smile in his voice. "Are you excited?"
"Kind of. I mean, yeah. It just doesn't feel real. I'll be excited later," Peter babbles a little, moving around the room to pick out clothes to change into, after he's had a shower.
"You will be," Stephen confirms, his voice quiet, gentle. "Anything else I should know before I go get my fitting done?"
"No. I have to get a haircut, or I'd go with you to the fitting. See you tonight, at the rehearsal dinner?" Peter asks hopefully.
"Yes. See you tonight, at the rehearsal dinner," Stephen confirms, before ending the call.
Tony is sitting on the bed with his eyes closed, back to the headboard, trying not to listen in on his husband's conversation with this man that's madly in love with him. He peeks an eye open when the call ends, figuring out that Peter's about to have a shower. "Dibs on the shower. You'll have to share, if you want to go, too," Tony tells him with a sudden grin, jumping out of bed and wrapping his arms around Peter. He helps himself to a kiss, and just looks generally pleased with himself.
There's a shocked expression on Peter's face, at first, but it turns pleased, at the mention of sharing. "You mean that, Mr. Stark?" he asks, almost not daring to hope. How many times has he dreamed of taking a shower with his husband in the past two years? More times than he can count.
"I mean it," Tony says firmly, letting his fingers slip through Peter's to hold one of his hands. "You might have gotten used to not having me love you for the past two years, but you'll also get used to being loved like this again." He brushes another kiss to Peter's lips, then leads him toward the bathroom, so they can have that shower.
Peter follows along, feeling better for the words, the hand not held in Tony's gripping his arm, above the wrist, so that he clings to his husband as they walk into the master bath. He lets go, so that Tony can adjust the water for them, then he starts to take his clothes off, feeling shy about it.
"Are you my shy spider?" Tony asks, his voice suddenly thick with arousal as he watches Peter. He goes about taking his own clothing off, stripping with quick, decisive motions, so he can get his hands on Peter that much sooner.
"Yeah, Mr. Stark. I feel like some fumbling virgin again," he says hoarsely, watching as Tony sheds his clothes in that masterful way. A tremble starts in his hands and spreads to his entire body when boxers land on the floor, and he gets a good look at what he's been missing.
"Come here, shy little spider," Tony rumbles, pulling Peter close by the hips, his erection pressing to the other man's stomach through his shirt. "You're perfect. Everything's okay," he says next, a hand coming up to smooth across Peter's cheek, while a strong arm wraps around him, making sure potential weak knees don't make him fall.
Oh, it's exactly what he'd wished for, the way Tony wraps his arms around him, holding him in place when his knees tremble with the rest of him. "I want you so much," he rasps out, a shy hand closing around Tony's cock, stroking softly, gently. "I want you to have me. I want to know how you'll do it so I can savor the image before it even happens."
"I'm going to get in the shower with you, and then I'm going to guide you under the water, just watching you get slick, first," Tony murmurs into his ear, his cock twitching in Peter's gentle hand. Fingers push into shaggy hair, smoothing it slowly. "Then, I'm going to make you face the wall, and use the lube in there on my fingers, pushing them inside you to get you ready as I touch you all over with my other hand. Once you're ready, I'm going to lube up my cock, turn you to face me, and back you into the wall. I'm going to guide your legs around my hips, and push inside you, making love to you until I get to feel you come." He presses a soft kiss to Peter's lips, then passes a lightly calloused thumb over the man's lips. "How does that sound, shy little spider?"
"Like a dream come true," Peter rasps out, dark eyes heavy and hopeful on Tony's. He leans in to kiss his husband hard, and for the first time since he's been back, this doesn't feel like a fantasy that's about to be snatched away by cold reality. The hand he uses to stroke Tony tightens, moving faster, because he needs to have more contact with this man. He just needs more.
After their kiss, Tony makes good on that fantasy, guiding Peter into the shower and under the water. He smooths back that shaggy hair, slicking it, combing it with his fingers. "I'm going to miss this longer hair a little, but I like it short, too," he murmurs, grinning at him and kissing him again as he tugs him from beneath the water. Then he's guiding him to the wall, facing it, and pressing one of Peter's forearms to it. The other hand is led down to Peter's cock, making his fingers wrap around it and giving it a few pumps with his hand around Peter's to start him off. "Thought I'd add a surprise detail," he whispers to the back of Peter's ear, before he gets started with the lube, pushing a long middle finger into his husband's ass.
By the time Tony's pushing that long digit into him, Peter's breathing is ragged and he's leaning heavily against the tile of the shower stall. "Fuck, Tony," he rasps out, his hips arching back, pushing more deeply onto that finger. "It's been so long," he says, his voice sounding almost broken. "Even your finger feels fucking huge," he pants and he begins to work his hips back and forth, each motion earning him more friction for his cock as well as his bottom.
It's something to wrap Tony's head around, because they'd just had sex last night, and early this morning. But that reality isn't the same for his husband, who's waited two years for this moment. "I'll be careful with you," Tony whispers, his voice thick with emotion as he takes in the almost broken quality of his husband's voice, kissing his shoulder. He takes his time with that middle finger, waiting until it slides easily, before he adds his index finger, a hand fisting in Peter's hair.
Peter hisses out from the pleasure/pain of having that second finger added to the mix, and strokes his cock that much harder while he slows the motion of his hips to let Tony control the pace he thrusts his fingers at. He takes it slow for the first few minutes, then becomes greedy again, his hips pushing for more until he's rasping out, "I need you, Tony. Please."
"I need you, too," Tony whispers, carefully tugging his fingers free and turning Peter to face him. He lifts him with his hands, and guides his legs to wrap around his hips, before guiding his cock to push the head inside Peter's ass. He lets out a groan, and kisses Peter hard, all while very gradually pushing himself in deeper, and deeper. "Fuck, you're tight," he says with a ragged breath. "So fucking tight."
"I'm all yours, Tony. Just yours. I'll never belong to anybody else," Peter babbles as Tony pushes inside him. It feels like home, being joined with his husband after all this time, and he drops his head to Tony's shoulder, to cover the tears that stand in his eyes.
"You did so good, Peter," Tony praises him, because Peter waited all this time. He could have moved on. Could have easily moved on. And it would have hurt so fucking bad, to lose his husband for three minutes, only to find out he's moved on to a whole other life, with a whole other person. Three minutes in which he couldn't defend what's his, do anything to change his mind, try to win him back. Peter would have been just… Gone.
All that hits Tony like a wall, and has his body tensing, but he keeps thrusting ever so carefully. He'd been so quick to try to make Strange into some pet for Peter, because he'd thought that's what his husband wanted, and he hadn't seen a real threat to their relationship. But, God, Strange could have been. Strange could have taken his entire world away. They might not have even come back to New York after those two years. They could have made Tony hunt them down, and maybe Tony would have never found them at all.
By the time these thoughts have made a few circuits in Tony's head, his breathing is ragged, and tears are in his eyes as well. "I love you so much. Thank you for not leaving me, Peter," he croaks out.
"Never," Peter promises, and he can feel the change in Tony. Feel that Tony gets some of what he's felt for so long. It makes him less alone. It makes the burden easier to bear, because it's not all his now. "I love you too much, Tony." His legs tighten around Tony's waist, and with every thrust, he's working closer to that switch, where everything just feels good. And then, he's past it, his body loosening enough to make thrusting easier and his breath coming in long moans.
Fervent kisses are plied to Peter's skin, up and down his neck, his shoulder, then latching onto his mouth for a deep, hungry kiss. A hand cups Peter's ass, and his other comes around to start stroking Peter's cock with rapid motions. Tony's getting close, and trying to push his husband past the point of pleasure and into orgasm. "You feel so good," he bites out, even as a tear falls, lost in the moisture of the shower.
"So do you," Peter tells him, groaning against Tony's skin, where he returns those kisses in kind. Then, all at once, it's too much to take and he comes with Tony's name on his lips. His pupils dilate and he comes all over Tony's hand, the pulsing of his cock carrying back to the tight muscles of his ass to squeeze at his husband's cock in waves.
Tony's hips gently buck into his husband the moment Peter comes, unable to hold himself back any longer. He fills Peter with his seed, letting out a low groan, and willing himself to calm down the emotional turmoil inside him. But it has him clinging to his husband, and pressing near-frantic kisses to his face, a tremble moving through his body.
Peter catches that emotional turmoil and clings tightly to Tony, murmuring that he's here. He's always going to be his, no matter how long he has to wait for him. He presses kisses all over his husband's skin, while they're still joined, but eventually Tony has to pull out, has to uncouple them so that they can wash and get ready for the day.
#
The rehearsal goes quickly, with the members of the wedding party doing a walk through, so everybody knows where they're supposed to be and when. Ned isn't thrilled to be sharing best man duties with one of Peter's super hero buddies, but Peter promises that he'll explain everything tonight, at the bachelor party.
Then, they're all taking private cars to the rehearsal dinner, which is a modest affair, by Tony Stark standards. Only a few dozen people file into the restaurant, which has been rented out for the night, including the wedding party, Team Stark, and Peter's Aunt May. Peter's been dreading seeing his Aunt, worried that she'll see through him and wonder what's happened to him. It's just so much to try and explain, and he doesn't want to worry her.
Still, the party is festive, with everybody going around the table to make a toast to the happy couple. They range from silly to touching, and Peter's feeling pretty good by the time Ned gives a bumbling speech about how cool it is being Spider Man's best friend.
Giving Doc a pointed look to save his friend from what seems to be a long and rambling monologue, Peter squeezes Tony's hand under the table. He's sure Rhodey will bring things back around here in a minute, if Stephen doesn't.
Stephen clears his throat, and stands with his drink after the look Peter gives him, patting Ned on the shoulder. Ned stops mid-sentence, then gives Stephen a hell of a look before sitting. Oh well. Stephen doesn't give a fuck about making friends.
"What can I say about Peter and Tony?" Stephen muses, the only one in the group to say Peter's name first, besides Aunt May. "Sometimes two people meet, and everything simply falls into place. Congratulations, Peter and Tony," he says, and the small gathering toasts to the simplistic speech.
"That wasn't even a speech," Ned points out to Strange, grumbling a little still, the words pretty much ignored by the older man.
Rhodey's speech isn't much longer, since he's saving the big stuff for the reception. It's just a toast to his best friend and the man he loves, to which everybody enthusiastically raises a glass.
A few cases of wine later, and the grooms kiss each other goodbye for the night, headed out to their separate bachelor parties. When the two seem to cling to each other, like they might not separate, Rhodey practically grabs Tony by the collar, dragging him away to whatever awesomeness he has planned.
Once they're gone, Peter, Ned, Doc, and some of Peter's friends from work and school all head back to the Stark Tower penthouse, having decided to have their party there. Peter stations himself behind the bar when they arrive and begins mixing drinks for the group, talking quietly to Doc and Ned about what happened in Mexico, while the rest of his friends gawk around the penthouse, amazed by the luxury they find.
"Hey, FRIDAY?" Peter asks, the AI who's always present. "Can we get some music? Not too loud in my corner. We're having a conversation over here."
"Absolutely, Peter," FRIDAY chirps, and starts playing one of the recent pop hits for the group, since they far outnumber Strange, and what the older man might like to hear.
Stephen doesn't care about the music, though. He's just nursing his Dos Equis, listening to Peter talk and answering any questions Ned might have for either of them. It feels familiar, sitting at a bar with Peter behind it, taking care of everyone. Feels like the way things should be. Which is funny, because before Mexico, Stephen rarely drank any alcohol, and only had the occasional beer. Now having a beer is a regular comfort.
"So, did you guys do it?" Ned blurts out, because that seems to be something that could happen with Peter, now that Peter likes dudes. "I mean, I'm not trying to be-"
"No," Stephen cuts him off, frowning. He takes another swig of his beer to finish it off. "Excuse me," he says, and slides off the bar stool, moving away from the younger men to walk across the penthouse and stare out one of the large windows.
"Okay," Ned says, staring after the man and working on his own beer. "Was it something I said?"
"Ned, you can't ask if I did it with every dude I know," Peter says patiently. "The only person - dude or lady - I do it with is Tony. He's my husband. You know that." Tony and Peter have kept the fact that they're already married quiet, but there are still people who know and Ned's one of them.
"Sorry. Just. Two years is a really long time, you know?" Ned tries to explain himself, mumbling around the rim of his beer bottle. "But I get it. You're married. You're a good guy, Peter."
"Yeah. Two years was a long time," Peter says, casting worried eyes at Doc as he stands, outside of the party, staring out the window. "Hey, why don't you go talk to the guys. I need to check on Doc."
"Sure," Ned says, raising his beer to Peter, then heading off into the crowd to chat up the guys. He needs to get the D&D game started up, anyway. "Okay, did anyone bring their manuals?"
Making his way slowly to Doc, with a fresh beer in his hand, he steps next to the other man, holding the beer out silently. They stare out the window for a few minutes, each in their own thoughts.
"Sorry about Ned. He means well," Peter says quietly after a little time has passed, and he feels like he can talk.
"Sorry I'm in a mood," Stephen replies, taking a swig of his beer, before putting on a smile. "I'll have my head on straight by the wedding." No, he won't. But he'll fake it.
"Look, if you need to..." Peter gestures with his hands, like he's making a fake portal, "You know, jet. I get it. I'm touched you're here at all."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Stephen says honestly, rightly put in his place for being in the bad mood he's in. He really better get that sorted, or else Peter won't want him around.
"That sounds miserable, because I can think of a dozen places I'd rather be right now," Peter says with a laugh, taking a drink of his beer, and chancing a look at Doc to see how his joke went over.
Instead of chuckling, or smiling, Stephen stares out the window for a long moment, before explaining, "You're here. So I want to be here. I'm the one that actually enjoyed Mexico, remember? I have a strange sense of vacation and parties." Strange, in that he likes them, if Peter's there.
Peter bows his head and takes a drink of his beer. "Yeah I remember," he says quietly. He wants to protest a little bit, but it's the truth. Mexico hadn't been all bad but Peter hadn't enjoyed being there, not for a minute. In their happiest moments, he'd still felt like he was missing out on his life.
Stephen rests the hand not holding his beer in his pocket, and takes another swig from the bottle. "Life is getting better now," he says quietly. "Things are falling back into place, where they should."
"You talking about me or you?" Peter asks, because things are starting to fall into place, at least a little, but he hopes his friend is talking about himself, too.
"Both of us. I'm learning where things go," Stephen says. "Figuring out how best to proceed." He looks over at Peter, and gives him a smile.
Peter nods to that and returns the smile, but before he can think of something else to say, the elevator dings open and he turns in that direction, frowning and tense, because everybody who's supposed to be here already is. "Are we expecting company?"
Stephen's beer is set aside, and he steps forward and slightly in front of Peter, taking on a defensive stance. He's just about to make the motions to create a barrier or weapon, need depending, because, you know what? Even if it's the Ancient One, Stephen's in the mood to fight this time.
He's not letting Peter be put through more hell.
But instead of any enemy, strippers come piling out of the elevator, giggling and cheering. Stephen can tell they're strippers, because they have cute little outfits on, and none of the guys here could ever date any of them.
"Ned," Peter groans, somewhat touched by the surprise. He looks over to Doc before he speaks, "So. You want to entertain them, or should I?"
Stephen reaches for his beer again. "As the eldest here, I feel it's my responsibility to take care of this," he mutters with a smirk, actually welcoming the distraction.
"That's gonna be great for their Daddy issues," Peter says with a chuckle, watching as Doc heads over to the group of girls and begins to speak in the moment before all the other men notice girls in their midst and rush over.
The girls aren't so much handled as they take over the party, dispersing to pick out a guy to play with each, a pretty, tiny blonde making her way over to Peter. "I think you're the groom, right?" she asks, giving him a sweet smile. "I hear you're a professional bartender, too." She plays with her own hands a little, before asking, "Do you do tricks? Like that really old movie with Tom Cruise?"
"That's what I keep telling people, but they're never as impressed as I think they should be," Peter says to her, relieved she didn't start grinding on him instantly. "You want a drink?"
"Yes, please," the girl tells him, following after him as he makes his way to the bar. "I'm Angel."
Meanwhile, the brunette who's picked out Stephen has all but pushed the older man into a chair, and is giving him a lap dance, but the doctor is being a good sport about it. He might even enjoy himself for real, by accident, if he keeps pretending to have a good time.
"So, you heard I'm a pro bartender. That means Tony Stark sent you, right?" Peter asks, reaching for a shaker and spinning it in his hand. He's making her a pomtini. He's touched. And even Doc looks like he's having fun. Maybe it's just fun for a night, but Peter wants it for him.
"That's right. You're Peter, and you're going to marry Tony Stark tomorrow," Angel says, blue eyes widening as Peter spins the shaker in his hand. She gives a little clap, and hops up onto the bar stool, which just shows how short she is, even in those heels.
"I am," Peter confirms, taking up a bottle of vodka and flipping it around a few times before he pours a few shots into the cup of the shaker, along with the other ingredients and begins to shake. After it's mixed and cold, he pours it into a martini glass and nudges it toward Angel. "Here you go," he tells her, wondering if he can just get away with playing bartender all night.
"Thank you, Peter," Angel says softly, smiling at him as she gives her hair a little toss. The long, platinum blonde tresses hang down just past the bottom of the chair. She takes up her glass, and surveys the gathering with the gaze of someone that's in charge, making sure everyone's having fun and is safe. Satisfied everything is under control, she looks back to Peter. "Did I see Dungeons and Dragons books?"
"Yeah. That's where this party was headed before you saved us," Peter laughs and goes about mixing up a pitcher of margaritas, now that this is looking more like a party. He takes down a half dozen margarita glasses and pours them full for the girls, and puts them on a tray for whoever comes over looking for booze first.
"My Dad used to play D&D with me and my brothers and sister. He still does, on holidays," Angel says fondly, sipping her drink. "If you really want to, I could rally the girls into playing a game. Or cheering you boys on while you play." How accommodating.
Peter takes a look at the guys, all of whom look like they're in heaven. "Nah. I think the boys are pretty happy for now. Besides, Tony'll never let me live it down, if he sent girls over and I talked them into playing Dungeons and Dragons, instead of partying."
"Well, we can't have that," Angel says, and contents herself to watching her designed client work behind the bar. She makes conversation, but doesn't push Peter to do anything, sensing that's what he needs.
"Peter! I'll be ready and there tomorrow, on time!" Stephen calls from near the chair he's been pinned down onto by the pretty brunette. She's bouncing up and down excitedly, clapping her hands, all her goodies bouncing along with her. Then Stephen says to her, "Ready to see that magic trick?" and she squeals, before he's throwing up a portal into the air, and stepping through it with her.
"Should I worry about what just happened there?" Angel asks, frowning.
Peter frowns after them, before he turns back to Angel with a smile. "Nah. You were hired by Mr. Stark, so there were bound to be some oddities, right? Besides. She's with the best man I know. Well, the second best," Peter backtracks, scratching at the back of his head. "Because it's a given I'm marrying the best one, right?"
"Right," Angel says, before turning back in her seat to face the bartending client.
#
Tony Stark's bachelor party has an entire strip club rented out, with music blasting, an open bar, all that good shit. Except Tony's in a back room, watching a girl dance on a pole, with Rhodey sitting in the chair near his. "You know, I think I should put this girl through college. She's really good at that thing where she flips and spins."
"Maybe do it without telling her? Because you don't want her- And that's another hundred dollar bill you're putting on the floor by her. Okay then." Rhodey grunts, having more beer.
"How much do you think college is these days?" Tony asks next.
"Why don't you ask your barely legal husband?" Rhodey grumbles into his drink.
"He wouldn't know. He got a full scholarship from Stark Industries," Tony says cheerfully. Then he pauses, and adds, "You know, barely legal is still legal. And he's 22, 24 if you count the time thing. His body is technically older than my body, and you can also get in line to kiss my ass."
Rhodey chuckles a little bit. "I'm not Cap, Tony. No judgement here. I just want you happy, and you're at least happy enough to do something I thought was impossible for you."
"What, get married?" Tony asks, his head tilting as he tries to figure out what exactly the stripper is up to now. Something that requires running toward the pole, and then- "Whoa. Would you look at that?"
"I mean, yeah. After you and Pepper didn't pan out, I figured there was no hope in ever being your best man, Tony," Rhodey says quietly. "Never been gladder to be wrong."
"Thanks, I appreciate that," Tony says sincerely, even if his sincere voice sounds a lot like his sarcastic voice. He gets up, and starts emptying more money from his pockets onto the little floor for the stripper, who lets it stack in a neat little pile as she keeps dancing. "Take it. Take all my money," Tony declares.
"What's bothering you, Tony?" Rhodey asks, when Tony sits back down. "I haven't seen you throw money at a girl like this since before you became Iron Man."
Tony sits back down, and the song ends, the stripper picking up her tips and sauntering out, replaced by the next girl. "Well, now that you mentioned it. Doctor Strange is madly in love with my husband," Tony says flatly.
Rhodey's eyes bulge and his jaw hits the table, looking at Tony with that incredulous face for a few seconds before he remembers that the other man can't hear his internal dialogue. "What?!" he asks, completely shocked. "They were gone for, like, three minutes."
"Two years, for them. That's why I said my husband was 22 but he was also 24. Try to keep up, Rhodey," Tony is patting around for more money, but he's all tapped out after that last girl. So he gets up, and goes to the little ATM, humming a tune as he takes out more money.
"But, Peter's still marrying you," Rhodey says logically, following Tony to the ATM. "So, what's there to be upset about?"
"I'm bothered, but I'm not quite upset," Tony amends, stuffing his money in his pockets and heading back to his chair with Rhodey. "I'm not bothered by Peter. I'm bothered by the stupid look on Strange's face whenever he looks at my husband. I told myself I liked it, at first. Even offered for Peter to keep the man as a pet. But now? Now I'm annoyed."
"You gonna say something to him about it?" Rhodey asks, wondering if he's gonna need to suit up to help Tony not get his ass kicked by the overpowered sorcerer any time soon.
"No, I'm gonna talk shit about him behind his back like a backstabbing cunt, Rhodey," Tony deadpans, frowning down at his empty beer.
"See, when you say things like that, I can't tell if you're serious or not," Rhodey complains, getting up to get the man another drink and coming back with a Scotch. "Here. I thought this conversation required something stronger than lager."
"I wanna say something to him," Tony says, taking the drink. "Thanks - It's just that if I say something, what's that gonna do exactly? Cure him? Make him go fall in love with a nice girl, or anyone else? Nope. At best, he'll just stare at me. At extra best, he'll want a fight."
"Well, if he wants a fight, we'll give him one," Rhodey assures Tony. "But, I think if he wanted a fight, he wouldn't be standing up for your wedding tomorrow. He'd probably be making a portal and marching himself in here before things get to the 'I dos.'"
"Naw. Already married Peter. Ages ago, for Peter. So…" Tony shrugs. "But you already know that. And you still have a point. If he wanted to fuck my shit up, he wouldn't be one of Peter's best men. Which is so cute, by the way. Two best men. Fucking hell." Tony grins, and has some Scotch.
"Well, they did spend two years together," Rhodey defends Peter a little bit. "It makes sense they'd be, uh, close. But he's known that other kid his whole life, so he can't exactly demote him, even if he feels closer to Strange these days."
"I said it was cute, Rhodey. Do you really think I only speak in sarcasm? ...Don't answer that," Tony says, slapping a hundred down on the stripper dance floor. Almost forgot he's supposed to be blowing money, here. "Do you think I'm lame for hanging out with you, instead of, you know, seeing how many strippers I can bang tonight?"
"Do you want to bang strippers, Tony?" Rhodey asks him seriously. "Because if you do, I'll close the door and send every girl in this place in here for you. And we'll never speak of it again."
Tony stares at Rhodey for a long moment, then says quietly, "You're my best friend, man. Seriously." Then he polishes off his drink. "But, no, I don't want to bang any strippers. As big of a whore as I've been in my time, I've turned into a Peter-sexual being."
Sighing in relief, Rhodey studies his friend for a minute before he says. "That's what you need right now. Peter. I'm gonna get him for you." A not entirely sure footed Rhodey stands up and turns toward the door.
"Nope, against the rules," Tony says, getting up unsteadily himself and getting between Rhodey and the door. "We're gonna sit here, stare at girls, spend all my money, and let the kid have a nice time without me bothering him. He's probably a level five, maybe even six paladin by now."
"Whatever you want, man. Whatever you want. I'm just saying, you want to be with him, and I'll bet whatever's in your pocket that he wants to be with you right now, too. Screw the rules, man. You're already married."
#
It's 2 am, and a portal opens up in the living room. Out hops that stripper from earlier, covered in balloon animals and a little confused. She shrugs, and makes her way over to Angel, giving her a unicorn hat. "That guy was so fucking weird," she says cheerfully. "But really fun. In a magic shows and tea drinking kind of way."
"What?" Angel laughs, adjusting her new hat. "Well, I'm glad you're safe, and back before dawn. Peter here's uh…" She looks over to their bartender, who's seated on the stool near hers, with his head on the counter, sleeping with a hand around a shot of tequila. "Out of commision. He drank absolutely heroic amounts of tequila. So that was fun to watch."
"Probably more fun than tea. Shame though. That guy had a really big dick. I could feel it when I was dancing in his lap," the stripper sighs, and then bounds off to dispense more balloon animal hats.
The elevator dings, and in staggers Tony, with Rhodey helping him stay upright. "I'm fine. We made it. Ooh, strippers," Tony slurs, before straightening as he walks into the penthouse, and throwing his arms out wide. "Come to Daddy, strippers."
"That only works when you don't look like a damn kid, Tony," Rhodey hisses at him, swaying softly where he stands. "Maybe 'come to Trust Fund Baby' would get them over here."
Tony starts laughing so hard he falls over, and keeps laughing after that. A stripper with a lion balloon animal hat comes over, and crouches down. "Are you okay, Mr. Stark?" She gives him a sweet smile. "Your man is at the bar, sleeping."
"My man!" Tony slurs, popping up to go see Peter. He staggers over to the bar, and flops half his body on the counter. He plucks the tequila shot from Peter's hand, and drinks it himself. "Hey. Beautiful. Daddy's home." That'll at least still work on Peter. Probably.
"Daddy?" Peter rouses slightly, puzzled by the name and the fact that his emotional support tequila is gone from his hand. "Tony?" Dark eyes blink open and a slow smile spreads across his face. "You're here. I missed you."
"I missed you too, kid. Let's go pass out in bed. Maybe have sex when we wake up slightly sober enough to pull it off," Tony murmurs, swaying. "Because right now, my dick doesn't work, or I'd do you. I'd do you so hard."
"You would?" Peter brightens up a little, before he really concentrates. "Mine might. Maybe. I don't know."
"You have, literally, no idea how cute you are," Tony slurs, giving him a tug by his shirt to head toward the bedroom. "Rhodey! I love you man! Let the people know they can go home whenever!" he calls to his friend, and the pair disappears into their bedroom, falling onto the mattress, instantly asleep in each other's arms.