Peter was unpleasantly tipsy, having drunk several margaritas made with cheap tequila before MJ tricked him into going out. Thinking they were spending the night drinking at home, and more than a little eager to pity drink, he hadn't been paying attention to how many he imbibed, which caused him to be easily coaxed into the back of an Uber without much question. They were parked in front of Bottom Feeders before Peter realized what MJ was up to.

"No, no, no," Peter protested. "I am not in the mood for clubbing!"

The Uber had already pulled away, and MJ shrugged. "You have been moping in our apartment for over a month. I don't care if you meet someone to hook up with tonight or just sulk in the corner, but you being cooped up inside for weeks on end is not healthy."

"I wasn't moping," Peter grumbled. Louder he added, "I'm not even dressed for clubbing."

MJ wore a pained grimace before she quickly wiped it away. Peter had been wearing Tony's Metallica shirt nearly every day—the first shirt, the one Tony had given him at Bottom Feeders. Not the…stained one. After three solid weeks of wearing it around the apartment, MJ had finally coerced him into washing it.

"But it will lose its smell," Peter had griped.

MJ wrinkled her nose. "You're an idiot if you think his cologne hasn't already been covered by your stench. Fucking wash the shirt, Peter."

"It's fine, Peter," MJ said, gesturing at his outfit. "Besides, if you're that bothered by it, just take your clothes off. You won't be the only half naked twink in there."

Grumbling some more, Peter reluctantly followed MJ into the club and was immediately blasted by the music. Already feeling queasy from the cheap booze, he held his head in his hands. "I need to get some water," he shouted to MJ over the music and left her to go to the bar.

"You look like shit," said the bartender.

Peter scowled. He and the bartender, Flash Thompson, had gone to high school together, and apparently he was still just as big of an asshole.

"Just get me a water," Peter scowled.

A figure appeared beside Peter, and he groaned, not wanting to deal with getting hit on at the moment. He turned his back to the guy and fumed when he had the nerve to tap him on the shoulder. He whirled, ready to bite the guy's head off, when he realized he recognized him.

"Happy?" Peter gasped. "Does that mean…?" He looked around but didn't see him. "Is…Tony here?"

Happy shifted anxiously. "He's here, but we have a booth near the back. I just happened to be coming to the bar when I saw you come in with your friend. I… Look, Tony is absolutely miserable, but I know he won't admit it's because he's pining for you. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but if you're mad at him—"

"I'm not mad at him," Peter cut in. "I just…didn't know how to initiate a conversation. And when he didn't call me, either, we just kind of…drifted apart."

"I'll be honest, Tony's an idiot. I love him, but he's an idiot. He's absolutely stuck on you, so if you still have any kind of feelings for him, I beg you. Go make up with him. This is the first time I've been able to drag him out of the house since Batavia. He's been locked up in his workshop for a month."

Peter glanced toward the back of the club, but with the lights as low as they were, he couldn't see Tony. "I wouldn't know what to say."

Happy snorted, then smiled abashedly to cover it up. "Sorry. It's just that Pepper said you were just as clueless as he is, and—nevermind. Just go over there. Knowing Tony, he'll be fine with doing all the talking."

Biting his lower lip nervously, Peter teetered on the balls of his feet, debating what he should do. From the corner of his eye, he saw MJ smiling brilliantly at him, giving him two thumbs up. His feet had already brought him halfway to the back of the club before he realized MJ had no clue what Happy looked like, and for the life of him, he had no idea why she signaled him like that.

His breath caught in his throat when he recognized Tony. He was sitting dejectedly in the booth, slouched over and swirling a glass of amber liquid. He didn't even look up when Peter approached the table, sighing forlornly and burying his head in his arms.

"Happy, this was a terrible idea. Just take me home. It reminds me too much of the first night we met."

Peter slid into the booth beside Tony. He still didn't know what to say, so he went with, "Hello."

Tony slowly picked up his head. His eyes were droopy and unfocussed. "Great. Now I'm hallucinating." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Happy, I hope you brought some water."

"I'm not Happy."

"I'm not happy, either." He lowered his hands and blinked slowly. His eyes drank in the sight of Peter before him. As the silence stretched, Peter's stomach turned sour.

"I never should have come back here," he chided himself, "and I really shouldn't have drunk that fourth margarita."

"You're wearing my shirt."

Peter fiddled with the hem and dropped his gaze. "It…reminds me of you."

When he looked back up, Tony was leaning closer, a salacious grin spreading across his lips. His voice was a purr when he repeated, "You're wearing my shirt."

Peter leaned into Tony's space and inhaled, breathing in sage and sandalwood. His cock thrummed happily in remembrance of their first night on the dance floor. Peter looked up at Tony through long eyelashes, lips aching to mark up Tony's skin, and demanded, "Dance with me."

Tony surged forward, fervently kissing Peter. His tongue laved against Peter's as his hands dug into his upper arms. Peter melted against Tony, eager to throw himself into the burning depths. A high pitched keen worked its way out of his throat as he ached to press even closer to Tony.

Tony pulled back just far enough to rumble, "I missed you," before tilting into Peter's mouth once more.

Peter's lips were flushed red by the time they finally parted, and he donned a sloppy grin. "Come on. Dance with me. I want to feel your hands on me."

"Then you'd better take my shirt off because I'm going to mess you up, baby boy."

Teasing at the hem, Peter said, "Maybe I want you to mess the shirt up. Then I'd have two…"

The noise that drew from Tony made Peter's head swim. Without even realizing he had done it, he had climbed into Tony's lap, arms slung around his neck and hips pushing insatiably forward. His lips zeroed in on Tony's neck and he sucked—hard. Tony made that noise again and rocked up to meet Peter's erratic thrusts.

Tony's thumbs hooked into the belt loops of Peter's jeans, and he tilted his head to the side to allow Peter better access to his neck. "I'm so fucking stupid. I should have just called you. But I thought…"

Peter let his teeth graze against Tony's neck, nipping right behind the ear, and he lost his train of thought.

"Wanna put my mouth all over you," Peter murmured.

Peter's jeans were tight, but Tony managed to fit his hand down the back, groping as much of Peter's ass as would fit in his hand. The girth of his arm stopped him from reaching too far, but he was able to just barely brush Peter's hole with the tip of his finger. "I want to be inside you so bad, baby boy."

Peter shivered and ground back against Tony, aching to feel that finger deeper inside instead of barely teasing the rim. His eyes flickered to the bathroom, and Tony followed his gaze.

"Well, it's definitely not the most romantic spot in town…but from our track record, I'd say it's par for the course."

Sliding off Tony's lap, erection pressing painfully against denim, Peter held his hand out for Tony before leading him to the bathrooms. The club itself rarely had a clean vibe to it (and the bathrooms were no better) but they were far past caring. There was another couple making out in the bathroom, but Tony and Peter ignored them as they headed for a back stall.

Closing and locking the stall door, Peter unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to mid thigh before throwing himself back onto Tony's lips. He ground against Tony's leg as his hands roughly tugged at Tony's shirt.

"So eager for me," Tony encouraged. "How do you want me?"

"Inside me."

Tony chuckled. "I've been dreaming about that for so long, baby boy."

Impatient for more contact, Peter sank to his knees and mouthed at Tony's cock trapped in its denim prison. Tony fumbled at his zipper, eager to have Peter on him. As Tony pushed his jeans down, Peter took the elastic band of Tony's briefs between his teeth and pulled the underwear down, purposely letting Tony's cock drag against the side of his face. He nosed at Tony's balls, licking and sucking, reveling in the idea of finally being this close to Tony after so many weeks.

"Not that I'm complaining, but I thought you wanted me to fuck you. It's going to be difficult for me to do that with you all the way down there."

Peter slid Tony's cock in his mouth before letting his eyes travel up and up and connecting with Tony's. He sucked deep and hard, Tony's cockhead pressing into the back of his throat and his nose touching his pelvis. Tony's knees buckled at the sight, and he scrabbled at the wall behind him to hold himself up.

"Holy shit, beautiful. Ah… I can't believe you can take all of me like that."

Peter continued to try and pull as much of Tony's cock down his throat as he could. His muscles ached in anticipation of feeling Tony inside him, and his cock throbbed in need. His underwear felt soaked from the precum flowing from his tip, and he gave in to the urge to give himself a few rough strokes to take off the edge.

After several minutes, Tony pulled back, breathing heavily. "If you still want me to fuck you, you'll need to stop before our time together is cut quite short."

Peter smirked before leaning forward and kissing Tony's hip bone. Looking up between his lashes, he asked, "Did I do good, daddy?"

"Fuckin' A, what did I do to deserve you? Yes, beautiful, you did the best job. Now, come here." He pulled Peter to his feet and into a kiss, tasting his own salty precum on Peter's lips. Glancing around the stall, he seemed to come in to himself. "Peter, wow, we really got out of control. I really wanted our first time together to be in a bed, or at least somewhere private, but we keep, uh…"

Peter was placing slow kisses down his neck, taking his time on each one. "You've thought about us together?"

Tony shivered under the kisses, his brain struggling to remember what he was talking about. "Yeah, of course I did. You're…oh, fuck… You're really intoxicating. I can't seem to keep my thoughts away from you."

A tender kiss to the lips before Peter pulled back, smiling. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. After Batavia, when you didn't call, I… I thought you… Well, we never really said what we were to each other, and I guess I stupidly thought—"

Tony cupped the back of Peter's head and pulled him to his chest. "I really fucked up, didn't I? I never meant to make you feel like you weren't wanted. I also thought that you—"

The door to the bathroom opened, briefly filling the space with ostentatiously loud music. They froze, once more aware that they were making out in the club bathroom. Tony made to reach for the lock on the stall door when Peter caught his wrist.

"I believe you were going to fuck me."

Tony met his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, but—"

Peter slotted his body against Tony's, his clothed erection dragging against Tony's hip. "I can't let you walk out of here and risk not talking to you again for another month—"

"—I wouldn't—"

"—so I'm going to fuck you so good you can't help but catch feelings for me."

"Who says I haven't already?"

Peter turned and ground his ass needily into Tony. "You keep saying things like that and I'm going to believe you."

The door opened again and stayed open, filling their stall with pounding bass. Tony wrapped his arms around Peter from behind and moved with the music. "You said you wanted to dance."

Tony's chest seemed to vibrate with the music, and Peter pressed even further into him, rocking his hips and swaying to the beat. "I think I'll be happier with a different kind of dance."

Chuckling, Tony reached down to his pants that were pooled around his ankles. From his wallet he pulled a pack of lube and a condom. Peter eyed it and teased, "Do you always have lube and condoms on hand?"

Abashedly, Tony confessed, "Well, yes and no. Batavia was supposed to go a lot differently, but Pepper caught on to my plans. She even went so far as to create the room assignments. The idea was that the particle reactor was a front for us to go on a nice vacation together and share a room, hence the condom."

"That's…" Peter snatched the lube packet from Tony and tore it open. "I don't want to say that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me, but it's close. Now, are you going to prep me, or do you want me to do it?"

Tony took the lube back from Peter and went down to his knees so he could kiss the back of Peter's thigh. "I love how eager you are." He squeezed lube onto his hand and pushed his first finger in, mesmerized by how it was sucked inside.

Peter braced himself against the wall and pushed his hips backwards. "It's just with you. Something about you makes me completely lose myself and behave in ways I never do."

Another kiss on the back of his thigh, but higher this time. "Well, keep it up, beautiful. But don't be afraid to speak up if I push you past your limits." Peter pulsed around his finger, and he pressed another one in. "You're being so good for daddy. Look at how you just gobble me up." A kiss to where his ass met his thigh. A crook of his fingers had Peter scrabbling for balance and pressing back farther, mewling in ecstasy. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby boy."

Peter thrust backward, the fingers sliding easily within him. His cock bounced between his legs, a drop of precum flying from the tip to hit the floor. Tony continued to angle his fingers, teasing him, making his head spin. He had never before felt so full, so complete, and suddenly it was all too much. His hand barely touched his cock before he was cumming, groaning Tony's name as he did so, tensing up before relaxing bonelessly. Tony waited for Peter through his orgasm, smiling dopily as he listened to Peter pant his name again, his fingers still stuffed inside.

Peter turned over his shoulder and gave his hips a wiggle. "It's a little sensitive, but if you want to, you can still fuck me."

Tony withdrew his fingers and stood so he could kiss Peter between the shoulderblades. "I'm not going to take advantage of you like that, Peter. We'll get cleaned up and—"

Frowning, Peter stated, "But you didn't cum."

"That's alright, gorgeous. There's always—"

Peter slotted himself against Tony's body and took him in hand, rubbing the tip of his cock against his shirt. "I thought you said you were going to mess me up."

Tony took him in his arms and kissed him deeply. "I did say that, didn't I? There were a lot of other things I promised, too, but…this one I think I can still manage. Now get back on your knees and take me down your throat."

Hesitating, Peter asked, "You're sure you won't fuck me?"

"I'm going to fuck that pretty little throat, doll."

Peter fell to his knees and immediately drew Tony into his mouth, laving that velvety skin. Eyes closed, he hummed contentedly as he sucked down Tony's cock. His throat was a little tender from earlier, so he couldn't bring himself to swallow him all the way down and used his hand instead to fist what wasn't in his mouth.

Tony ran his fingers through Peter's hair as he ran a stream of endless praises. "So good, baby boy. So good for daddy. You work my cock just like that. God, you're so pretty when you look up at me. And I look so good in your mouth. Hey, would you stick a finger in my ass?"

"Is there any lube left?"

"Fuck, I don't know. Just—oh, shit, Peter… Yes… That's—!"

At the first taste, Peter pulled Tony from his mouth and let him splatter his shirt, the white spunk following the line of the "A" in the Metallica logo. When Tony caught his breath, he glanced down at Peter still on his knees. "Damn, you look good wearing my colors."