I won't let you go

[spideyguy]

Things are different, After.

There's a Before and an After, now, even though sometimes Peter has difficulty separating them in his head. It feels like just yesterday he was downtown (it was yesterday...), taking pictures of chalk art for a Bugle fluff piece when the alien donut fell from the sky. Sometimes he'll say things, mention this or that, and it takes a beat for people to understand him - a reference, out of place, to something that happened half a decade ago. It takes the wind right out of his sails every time it happens, but he doesn't know what to do about it. If there's anything he can do, really.

The world is...kind of chaos. Peter leaves Tony's side exactly two times - the first, to find his Aunt (she had also been dusted, which was both a blessing and a curse, so Peter elects not to think about it too hard), and the second, to argue vehemently with the bank that took their townhouse.

It's not about the stuff, most of which has been thrown away. Their remaining neighbors saved a few of May's scrapbooks, and some of the more priceless memories - but the rest of it is gone. His camera, all of their clothes, everything. But it's not about the stuff - it's about the house. It's about the memories they pressed into the walls, about the kitchen Ben insisted they paint yellow, when he and May first moved in, because he thought it would suit them. It's about the gash in the hardwood and the scuffs on the walls, about the garden in the back, the tree May planted in Gwen's memory - which is nearly a quarter of the way grown, by now.

Peter breaks in through the window, into his (old) room, and quietly extracts the box he'd hidden under one of the floorboards. It has old webshooter components, but more importantly, it has the last of his photos. Gwen. Harry. Ben. May. Tony. His parents. Everything he ever thought was precious, so he could pull it out and look at it, sometimes. Peter's never had his paranoia be so validated.

Peter sets May up with Dr. Strange, who's opened the Sanctum to heroes and hero-adjacent peoples for the time being, and returns to Tony's side. He doesn't think they're getting the house back, doesn't even know what they'd do if they did - without the squashy couch Ben always fell asleep on, without the ugly dining chairs May had kept just to prove a point. What's the point, if it doesn't feel like home anymore?

"We've been poor before," May says, holding Peter's face in her hands. "You're here, that's all I care about. Parkers are made of strong stuff. We'll be okay."

But Peter's subdued, after that. His box lives in the corner of Tony's hospital room, tucked under a chair, and he doesn't mention it. He doesn't mention any of it, really, because Tony has way more important things to worry about - like his arm, like walking again, like dealing with the pain and any lingering after effects. He thinks Tony would have called him on it, probably, if Peter weren't so skilled at avoidance - and, guiltily, he thinks Tony's probably too tired to press it. Good. He doesn't need any more stress.

May visits, in and out, and when she does she holds Peter's hand in her's, and Tony's in the other. Peter takes the mangled one, ever so gently, and he doesn't know how Tony feels - but it feels like family, to him, and it makes his eyes burn.

"He's made of strong stuff too, you know," May whispers, as she hugs Peter goodbye at the end of one of these visits. It makes the worry Peter didn't even realize he was carrying in his chest ease, at least a little.

The day arrives when Tony is cleared to leave the hospital - earlier than Strange would recommend, but Peter thinks they just caved to the incessant annoyance. Tony could be persistent; but Peter wouldn't have let him leave if he didn't believe he was well enough. He's not sure where, exactly, to bring him, though, until Tony explains about the apartment he had in Manhattan...apparently.

It aches, because that feels like something Peter would have known if he'd been there, but he doesn't say anything about it. May fusses, heads over before them: cleans the apartment, restocks the fridge, changes the sheets. Peter thinks she just wants something to occupy her time; but when they arrive, Peter wheeling Tony in through the front door, she's already made herself scarce.

"Nice digs," Peter says, closing the door with his foot. "Disappointed in the lack of a bearskin rug, but I guess you can't win them all."

Comments

[engineous]

"I'd reassure you that they're over-rated, but I'd be lying. We can test this one out and make sure it's not a fire hazard." He leans his head back, closing his eyes so he can focus on the feeling of Peter's fingers in his hair. He's been more desperate for touch lately, starved of it for so long and feeling like his eyes could lie about Peter's return while his body couldn't. He likes the way that Peter's fingers stick slightly, just enough to pull and make Tony feel like he's as reluctant to let go as Tony is reluctant to let him go.

His heart clenches at the quip because he knows that, really, he doesn't have many other people who would agree to live with him and he would tolerate for more than a couple of days. If Peter said no, the sad fact is that no one would make him eat his greens or kiss him goodnight or force him to sleep when he was fixated on a project or watch movies with him.

Reaching down, he shifts one wheel of the chair to turn around enough that he can reach for one of Peter's hands. Even if Peter jokes about, well, everything, Tony knows that there's a lot of uncertainty in his life. He swallows against a sudden dryness in his throat and then uses his grip on Peter to pull himself up and out of the chair. "That thing hurts my ass, let's go to the couch."

He can't avoid the question of Peter moving in, especially when he'd been the one to broach the topic, but he also hadn't been thinking when he'd blurted out the offer. It was genuine, and he desperately wants Peter to accept, but they both use humor as a defense mechanism to the point that sometimes, it was hard to tell what was a joke or not. So for now, he silently leads the way to the couch and drags Peter along behind him as if he couldn't easily stand his ground and then bench press Tony for good measure. It gives him time to think, to put his thoughts into words when he's often so bad at expressing all of the thoughts swirling through his big brain.

Sitting down on the couch, Tony doesn't let go of Peter's hand even after he's sat down with him. "I'm asking you to move in, Pete," he says, looking at him for a few moments before glancing down at their hands. "If you want to, I mean. I don't want to cramp your style," he adds with sly little smile.

"I know you're the king of responsibilities, but maybe I can help with May. I, uh, bought your house. Her house. The house." It's a lot, and he hadn't been asked to do it, so he's prepared for Peter to reject the favor. He doesn't mention the fact that Strange had agreed to help turn back the time on the house, so to speak, in return for the financial support that Tony had gladly given to the Sanctum and all the efforts Strange had been putting into housing the heroes of New York. "I don't blame you if you want to move back there with her."

[spideyguy]

"Can we make marshmallows with it? Is that a thing? I was never a boy scout." It's been a lot of gentle touches between the two of them lately - not that Peter's complaining. They can't do much else anyway, especially when Tony's A) laid up and B) in a hospital surrounded by staff. Peter is perfectly happy climbing into his hospital bed, though, stroking through Tony's hair, and keeping the kissing PG. Tony touches him like he's precious (he did before, too, but now it's particularly evident), his good hand warm on Peter's cheek, and Peter kisses the pads of his fingers with a smile.

Tony takes his hand, and Peter can't discern, exactly, what the look in his eye really means. He lets Tony use the leverage on his arm to pull himself up out of the chair, other hand hovering in case Tony needs assistance, and follows him, mildly amused, as Tony tugs him along. They leave the chair in the middle of the room behind them, and Tony doesn't seem to have any trouble getting situated on the couch. Peter sits down next to him, letting Tony keep his hand, and pressing their sides together comfortably.

Peter's not sure what he's expecting, but then again, Tony always manages to surprise him. It's a good thing he's looking down at their hands, because Peter feels like he's openly staring. Peter swallows around the lump in his throat that seems to have gotten exponentially bigger and interlocks their fingers, letting them curl together.

"It was you. You're - you bought the house." The bank had told them the house was currently in escrow, that they'd have to wait to talk to the new owner, but Peter hadn't imagined it would be Tony. Maybe if they ever learned to communicate better - nah, that's probably a lost cause. He laughs quietly and ignores the way his eyes water, squeezing Tony's hand. "You're never going to cramp my style, doofus."

Peter takes a deep breath, because this feels Serious with a capital S and as much as they joke, when Tony's being honest and open like that, Peter should return the favor. He lifts their hands to press a kiss to the back of Tony's, finally looking up to meet his eyes. "I think - before, I mean - before all of this, that's uh - that's the way we were headed. And I know it's - I know it's different, now, I guess, but I just mean - yes. Yes, I want to - move in and be with you."

"Aunt May is always telling me she can take care of her - and these are her words - damn self." Peter smiles softly, letting his lips brush Tony's knuckles. "Fair warning, though, Sunday dinners are non-negotiable. Which, like, doesn't even make sense, because technically we're Jewish - I try not to get caught in the semantics."

[engineous]

“Are you sure you were never a boy scout? You’ve got the feel of someone who used to earn badges by helping old ladies cross the street.” Laughing brightly, he winks at Peter and then tosses in a shrug. “I don’t see why we couldn’t roast marshmallows with it. Probably more naturally wholesome than a Bunsen burner.”

Having Peter’s hand in his, Tony wonders how he’s ever going to let go of him again. He knows that it’s inevitable and that Peter is his own man with his own individual world going on without Tony in it—family, school, work, friends, hobbies. There’s so much that he does by himself, and should do by himself, and Tony just hopes that he might be able to keep up with it. It’s unlikely that he’ll be an active Avenger given his injuries, and perhaps moving in together is a selfish bid to stay in Peter’s life when he could easily grow beyond needing or wanting Tony Stark.

“I know it’s big, but it went on the market and I’d been trying to get it for years now. I didn’t— couldn’t give it up. Didn’t want to kick anyone out, so I waited for it to be vacated. Totally legal and neighborly. I’ll even make May pay rent if it makes her feel better.” It’s half pre-planned spiel, half rambling, and all nervousness. If there’s one thing that’s gotten him in trouble with significant others in the past, it’s been expensive gestures like this. He just hopes that Peter will understand he’s not trying to buy his love or flex on the financial power imbalance between them—he’s just doing something for good people who have been good to him.

Then it’s Peter’s turn to ramble, and Tony’s smile gets more affectionate the longer Peter talks. He’s got this way of saying so many words and ultimately, so little content. There may have been times in the past when Tony had found it frustrating, but right now, he can totally relate to it. This is a big step for them, and words created a bit of buffering time while the brain could catch up. “Cool. I want you to move in so I can be with you, too.”

He snorts at the comment about Sunday dinners, and then winces a bit at the way the sharp movement jostles something inside his still-delicate body. “Don’t badmouth the importance of words, we wouldn’t want a Jew to be anti-semantic.” Biting back his smile, he raises an eyebrow while waiting for Peter to react to the terrible pun. “Sunday dinner sounds nice, though. Family time. I wouldn’t dream of messing with Parker traditions like that.”

[spideyguy]

"Hardy har. No way, could you imagine me camping? Total disaster. I'm more of a concrete jungle man myself," Peter can't help but grin when Tony laughs like that, so free and honest, and hell, he doesn't care how much of a fool he has to make out of himself - he wants to hear that again, all the time. "Do you want the nerdy answer, or the honest answer? Ignoring the blatant violation of lab safety, obviously."

Does he? Does he have any of that, now? Not that it really matters, in the grand scheme of things, because Tony has already taken such an important position in his life - he had before all of this, too, it's just that Peter doesn't think either of them were ready to fully admit it. It wouldn't have changed his decision, one way or the other, to hold on for dear life to the flying space donut, but it certainly didn't hurt that there'd been a lump in his throat the whole time, watching Tony board the thing. The point is - and there is a point, bear with him - telling someone you love and care about them is a lot less scary in the wake of everything they've been through. Pretending like Tony meant less to him than he did, like saying it out loud would make it disappear, well; Peter wasn't too keen on that kind of thing now. The world was just going to take whatever it wanted whenever it wanted, why did he bother worrying about jinxing it? And how hasn't he already learned this lesson by now?

He digresses: Tony can be as selfish or unselfish as he wants, and it's not going to change just how damn much Peter loves him.

"Shh, shh." Peter shakes his head, small smile touching the edges of his mouth. "I really - I really appreciate that, Tony. That house is - I mean, it's where I grew up, and it's - it's important, especially to my Aunt. Ben carried her over that doorstep, you know? When she was twenty-six and stupid in love, and - just, thank you. Thank you."

It goes without saying that anything important to his Aunt is important to him, and it's like an invisible weight has lifted from his shoulders. It's not everything, but it's a helluva something, and jeez, would Tony ever stop surprising him? The man was thoughtful to his very core, he really, truly was; even laid up as he was, he was still doing his best to make sure those he cared about were taken care of. Peter's not entirely used to it, but damn if it doesn't only endear him even more.

"You don't even know if I snore." It's a weak tease, because of course Tony knows if he snores; just because they were emotionally challenged didn't mean Peter hadn't spent many a night over in Tony's bed. But Tony's smiling at him with such fondness, and it makes something warm ache in his chest. Tony wants to be with him. With him. Like, actually. "We're definitely going to need that rug then. I'd say we should paint the walls a ridiculous color, but they're practically all windows. Is that feng shui? I feel like that's deliberately not feng shui."

He's rambling again, but if Tony doesn't care then Peter certainly doesn't care, bubbling with something akin to fluttery happiness for the first time in, Jesus, far too long. The wince cuts through it, though, and Peter's expression falls into something more focused and serious as he listens for something wrong - is it weird to listen to Tony's heartbeat that intently? Peter reaches his free hand up to rearrange them a bit, offering Tony space to lean against his chest, if he wanted to.

The pun gets a good-natured groan, and Peter shakes his head in mock-disappointment. "That was horrible. Absolutely horrible I can't - I can't believe I just had to hear that with my own two ears. You're not even ashamed of yourself, my God. You monster."

"You say that now, just wait till your third May Parker meatloaf. The first one, you try to be polite; the second one, you tell yourself it couldn't have been as bad as you remember but the third? Ohhh the third...that's where she really gets you." It's a not-so-subtle way of telling Tony he's invited, of course, and not only invited, but practically required, really. Peter doesn't think May will be that surprised, if he's being honest. "So it's more like Sunday pizza, in the end."

[engineous]

“I know the importance of a home.” Tony doesn’t think about his childhood much and talks about it even less, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t been attached to his family’s house. It was where he felt safe with his mother, where he’d done tough learning because of his father’s tough “love,” where he’d been taken care of by Jarvis and built machines to keep his mind distracted from things a young boy shouldn’t have to worry about. He understands the importance of a home, too, because he never had a good one like Peter. He wants to give Peter what he can to keep ties to his family and his good memories of that family. The Parker house meant something to Peter, and the least Tony could do is to help protect it.

Reaching out for Peter, he grips the front of his shirt and gently pulls him close enough to kiss. He doesn’t mind the rambling, but sometimes he likes to help regain Peter’s focus for him if only to see his dazed little smile after a surprise kiss. “We can redecorate together. The windows are definitely for the views instead of good vibes. I mean, views give vibes. If you’ve got a pent house, that’s kinda the point.” Smiling, he kisses Peter again before taking the silent offer to lean closer. He appreciates the fact that he can be vulnerable without either of them acknowledging that that’s what’s happening.

“Why be ashamed of creative genius?” He grins and shifts his legs onto the couch, lounging sideways against Peter. Listening to Peter talk about May and the warmth in his voice, he smiles at the thought of being a part of a family, even if it’s only once a week by invitation. May is a lovely woman, and it’s no wonder Peter had grown into such a responsible and caring man. “I can stomach some bad meatloafs, don’t you worry. We could invite her here, too. I’ll dictate and you cook.”

[spideyguy]

"Home is where the heart is, isn't it?" Peter's not getting choked up. He's not. He refuses. There are so many more important things to cry about than a stupid house with stupid, yellow walls, no matter how much he loves it and how much his Aunt loves it and how much he loves Tony, right in this moment (in every moment, really, but especially this one). They've talked about the hard stuff on a small handful of occasions, but Peter knows there's more to it than what he's aware of. "You - my heart is with you, Tony."

He probably doesn't need to say it, but sometimes it's nice to hear it out loud.

Peter kisses him back, bumping their noses together lightly and enjoying the drag of Tony's facial hair against his skin. Proof that they were here, together, that they were real. Kissing Tony never got old - and it didn't hurt that the man was a damn fine kisser, damn fine. If he's smile is a tad dopey as Tony pulls away from the kiss (Peter has...always had trouble stopping), well. Let him live, okay? "They're also for sunlight waking me up way too early in the morning."

"I can admit, my sense of interior design leaves something to be desired." But it sounds so...domestic, the two of them figuring out what a place for them looked like. What their home looked like. Peter hums and lets a hand rest on Tony's cheek, thumb swiping a gentle circle against his cheekbone. The kiss is soft, unhurried, and Peter doesn't think he's ever going to stop savoring these moments. Not after everything they've been through. "Is a mezuzah going to throw off your pent house 'vibes'?"

"You say tomato," Peter snorts, turning his head to press his lips to Tony's hair. It will take them time to get there - lord knows it took them forever and a day just to get to where they are now - but the only one who doesn't know Tony is part of the family, really, genuinely, is probably Tony. If Peter thinks about it, May probably knew before either of them. "I think you're not grasping the severity of the situation. 'Bad' is a gross understatement. You should be worried. I'm resigned and defeated."

"Not much of a cook, huh?" He smiles, letting his hand rest on Tony's hip, keeping him close. "I'm sure she'd love that. Between you and I, we might yet manage not to burn the water."

[engineous]

"Good, because you have mine, too." He has to try so hard no to tease in the moment, to not deflect real human emotions with humor. They're both old hats at it, honestly, but it feels good to be open with each other right now. They're in love, and it's as much a beautiful thing as it is a scary one. Tony has been hurt by every single person he's loved, one way or another, even if it wasn't always intentional. His parents, life-long friends, lovers, even quite a few of the other Avengers. At his ripe old age, he's still learning to trust the process of opening himself up to others and maybe, just maybe, believe that the people he cares about won't hurt him too much in the end. Peter's not a safe choice by a mile when Tony considers how much danger he puts himself in daily, how he'd already lost him once; but he does believe that he's such an honestly good person that he wouldn't intentionally hurt Tony like others have in the past.

His laughter is a soft hum against Peter's lips, such an easy sound to make when Peter's feeling sassy. Maybe he's the one that's better about pulling away, but that doesn't mean he won't linger. "That's what electrochromic windows are for, babe." Or curtains, if they want a homier decor statement to help with the sunlight issue. He's never cared much for interior design, going more for minimalism peppered with useful things and bits of art, but that doesn't mean he's against trying it together. The important thing would be to create a comfortable space for them to share, to really make it into a home instead of just a place they both lived. "Nope. And we're definitely celebrating Hanukkah." Sliding a little lower on the couch, reclining against Peter, he closes his eyes while thinking about how all of their interests might come together into a cohesive living space. It'll take some work, but nothing's impossible. "Frame some of your photos and put those up, too. Parker originals."

Grumbling good-naturedly, he cracks an eye open to look up at Peter. He's struck with how handsome he is, even from a somewhat unflattering angle, and really he should be counting his lucky stars that Peter hadn't turned him down from the start. He's heard all about his awkwardness and geekiness, and witnessed plenty of it himself, but in Tony's eyes, that just makes him even more of a catch. And that hair. "I never said I wasn't good. There're a few things I know how to make. I'm a genius, after all, and cooking is just science. But bossing you around in the kitchen sounds like more fun."

[spideyguy]

"Yeah? Yeah that's...that's good." Peter, in return, doesn't cheapen the exchange with a joke. It feels raw, in a way, frightening; like the first time his mask fell off. Dangerous, like his toes are brushing the concrete in a wide pendulum, before the web snaps him up in an arc. But he smiles, the kind of brilliant, wild smile where you just can't help yourself. He's happy. If there were anyone in the world who could share Tony's concerns about being hurt by the people they love - whether it be betrayal, loss, or just plain drifting apart - it would be Peter. What he may lack in years he makes up for in, unfortunately, sheer numbers. They both move at a mile a minute, and they both have duties and responsibilities to uphold that don't always guarantee a safe return (recent events are proof enough of that), but they're here, now. And if they worry too much about the future...they might just be wasting the present.

He wants to say, I'll keep it safe, but he doesn't. It's a promise he's already broken before he even makes it, and Peter is smart enough to know he should probably avoid it if he can.

"I should have expected that, but you're just so distracting." Of course Tony would have the latest and greatest. Windows couldn't just be windows, but Peter won't deny how cool that is. Does make it a bit difficult to slip in and out of in the dead of night, though. He...likes that idea, though. A home together. For them. "And Christmas. Ben was the Jewish one, May was raised Irish Catholic, she converted...my point is, there's no escaping the ugly Christmas sweaters."

"None of my photos are good enough to go up on the wall." Peter snorts, letting his free hand wander to card his fingers soothingly through Tony's hair. He loves to take photos, had adorned his own room with them...but he was allowed to be content in his own mediocrity, right? "Let's frame one singular Mapplethorpe and call it a day. It's a conversation piece. People have those, right?"

Peter's completely oblivious to Tony's gaze; he sandwiches himself deeper into the couch, supporting Tony leaning on him. For anybody else, the position might have been uncomfortable, but frankly, he thrives as a human pretzel. He was shocked, honestly, when their relationship had made the crossover from...colleagues? Whatever it was - into more. To be fair, Peter was always shocked when anyone expressed genuine interest in him, but Tony? Tony Stark, arguably the most eligible bachelor on the planet, still in the running for sexiest man alive for over a decade, and the most genius mind to ever walk the planet (which, really, that's the hook. There's nothing Peter finds sexier than a big-ass brain.) Not to mention, as Peter had gotten to know him: Tony Stark, Iron Man, one of the kindest, most generous heroes he'd ever met. Peter will be totally honest - he lived through the war-profiteering age of Stark Industries, the rise of Iron Man. His opinion hadn't always been the highest, but then, as the years went, it just ended up showing him how big Tony's heart was - especially when Peter was on the other side of it, working with him as Spiderman.

So when that incredible man blinked in his direction, well. Peter never stood a chance (and the stuttering, that first time trying to flirt, by God. It's a wonder they're not still standing there waiting for him to finish his sentence.)

"Uh huh. I know how to make a few things too. Grilled cheese, for starters. You're not special." Peter grins down at him, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Sure, sure. I'm a chemist, we can figure it out. Besides...I literally don't think we could do worse than May. I love her, but it's true."

[engineous]

They have a lot of kinks to work in the realm of living together, like where to put the lab that they inevitably will need to set up and how Peter can come and go without making it look like Spider-Man is shacking up with Iron Man—even if that's exactly the reality of the situation. The important thing is that they'll do it together, no matter how much compromising and bickering they may have to tolerate along the way. Tony isn't so blinded by love to think that they won't have their fair share of problems, but hopefully they can keep them simple and won't end up involving their alter egos. He can live through ugly holiday sweaters and burned meatloaf if it means he can stay at Peter's side.

"Mapplethorpe, huh? Kinky. You'd rather have a black and white cock on your living room wall than a picture of your own boyfriend?" He grins up at Peter before closing his eyes at the steady sweep of fingers through his hair. He doesn't have as much of it as he once did, but he's of the opinion that going golden instead of silver is a pretty lucky break. Hopefully, Peter doesn't mind after the shock of seeing Tony age several years in what he perceived to be a handful of minutes. "I love your photos. How about some small ones sprinkled around? We can frame 'em and put them on desks and credenzas or whatever other kinds of furniture normal people have."

The photos were reminders of good times, even if some of the more candid ones that Peter had snapped of Tony weren't always the most flattering. He's gotten more sentimental about them in recent years, and he thinks that he has a right to be considering what he'd gone through. It hard hurt to look back at some of those photos and see Peter, but they had also pushed him and inspired him to bring him back. Without Peter, it was entirely possible that Tony would have been to broken and jaded to save a universe that seemed to keep getting itself back in peril.

"Grilled cheese? Move over, Gordon Ramsay!" He opens his eyes and grins up at Peter, sliding the rest of the way down to finally lay his head in Peter's lap. All things considered, it shouldn't be too much of a surprise, given he'd made a pretty obvious trajectory of it with his slipping and shifting on the couch. He moves a hand to slide it beneath Peter's thigh, giving a playful squeeze. "Want to impress me with some of those tonight?"

[spideyguy]

It will be a process, no doubt about it. But in the middle of all this change - Tony, recovering, Peter, suddenly five years in the future - maybe some change they have control over isn't so bad. It can be something to hold onto, something to busy themselves with, something to say, hey, I'm here and I love you and I'm still trying. There was no "honeymoon phase" with them; at least, not in the way people normally have such a thing. They were both too used to watching things slip right through their fingers to be anything other than honest, at least, with themselves. Peter knows he definitely didn't think it would last - Tony would get bored of him, eventually, what did Peter have to keep his interest? - but it didn't stop him from holding on with both hands for as long as he would be allowed. And that's...led them here, still weathering the storm, together.

"He's got some other work. Look, I'm just giving you options here." Peter watches as Tony's eyes slip closed, gaze tracing the new lines in his face. He looks tired, physically, emotionally, existentially, whatever. Tony looks tired, even with his eyes closed. Peter doesn't mind the changes, the way Tony's hair is starting to thin a little - but he does mind that the years were stolen from them. Years they could have had, years Tony has lived without him. Longer apart than together, really. It makes him angry, burns hollow in his chest, but there's nothing he can do to fix it. Nothing he can do to fix any of it, and he's never felt so goddamn useless. He died, he crumbled, every piece of him reduced to nothing, and then he woke up and everything was so much worse. There's nothing to be done, just like all the other times Peter has been useless, but unlike them, he's not sure this trauma will fit in the box he keeps cramming the others in.

"...but if you really like them. You seriously want to get a credenza?" Peter acquiesces, fingers running through Tony's hair, down to the nape of his neck and back up again. Peter's photos ranged from pretty good to total finsta garbage, depending on the day. The unflattering photos were always his favorites - be it of Tony, himself, or both of them together. They felt more real than anything else, and if he tried hard enough, sometimes Peter felt like he could hear the laughter of when the photo was taken. "I was thinking we replace all the furniture with beanbags shaped like Tribbles."

"He shaking in his boots, I'm sure." Peter laughs and shakes his head fondly, resting his hand in Tony's hair as he made it to his final destination, taking up residence in Peter's lap. Oh, okay, so he legally wasn't allowed to move now, got it. Peter snorts at the squeeze, but he definitely doesn't mind the warm hand, pressing them closer together while Tony uses him like a body pillow. "Your wish is my command. I'll even show you my secret ingredient, since we're gonna be, you know, roommates and everything."

[engineous]

In all honesty, most things that involve Tony are a process. He's constantly thinking about the next thing, a future for him to create, a world to be improved. Sometimes it means that his life gets left to the side as a perpetually unfinished project, relationships in need of fine-tuning and habits to be replaced with better ones. The important thing is that Peter makes him want to try, to focus on something other than the big picture and think small for once. Tony has always been so preoccupied with saving everyone that sometimes, he forgets about himself. This is a second chance for him to fix that, though, tinker with his own way of living life and try to find a little more balance. Ever since the war against Thanos, he's been thinking that it's time to retire as Iron Man, anyway—maybe he'll be able to work on something else and, in the meantime, become a better man.

"I really like them, Pete," he replies with a smile, eyes still closed as Peter's fingers work magic in his hair and over his neck, lulling the tension from his body and soothing his muscles to relax. "Not sure about credenzas, just trying to think of where the plebian masses display their family photos." Tony had never really had any before, at least since leaving his parents' estate and rejecting pretty much all of the traditional makings of a home that they'd embraced. Now, however, he has something that he wants to keep the memories of and be able to look at them every day as a reminder of what they've worked for and what they'll continue to be protecting in the future.

The reference to Tribbles earns a bark of laughter from him and he cracks an eye open to peer up at Peter. Really, he has no right to be so adorable. "Sorry, captain, but I think my doctor might turn green if I spend my days sitting in beanbags and fucking up my very precious spine."

Humming, he turns his head a bit, facing Peter's stomach so that he can look up at him a bit coyly from the corner of his eye. "Oh, roommate, huh? I'm calling you that forever. We're not boyfriends, we're roommates. No more kisses hello, it's strictly handshakes from now on."

[spideyguy]

Peter gets that - the need to keep moving. If he's being honest, he gets it from his Aunt. You have to keep moving, because the bills don't pay themselves and the groceries don't magically appear, and the leaky faucet you had last week is still there - it doesn't matter that your world shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. You sweep it up and you keep moving, because while you're still kicking you need to keep a roof over your head and clothes on your back, and lucky for the dead, they don't have to worry about that anymore. Peter forgets that, sometimes; and sometimes he hates it, too, because the world takes and it takes and it finds something else to take, even when you don't think you have anything else - but Tony, God. Peter was dead set on never giving his heart to anyone else ever again after the first and last spectacular shitshow of epic proportions, and Tony ruined all those plans without even trying. Tony reminds him that the world's only worth saving if you've got a world of your own, too.

"Then I'll have to steal a bathroom, make it into a makeshift darkroom." He's pretty sure Tony could have a room outfitted for developing photos within twenty-four hours if he wanted to, but it's more fun doing it in a bathtub. "I'll take whichever one is most inconvenient."

"...come to think of it, I think May did have a credenza." Peter snorts, trying to picture the entrance - he's pretty sure his backpack knocked into it more than once, but he never paid much attention. Peter's fingers keep working through Tony's hair, fingertips rubbing gentle circles against his scalp, untangling any knots or twists as he went. Tony laughs and Peter smiles, genuinely pleased by the reaction. For the first time in a while, it almost sounds unburdened. "Damn. And here I thought the green science officer was the worst I had to worry about."

His other hand does run down Tony's spine lightly, just tracing nonsensical patterns against his back. They're definitely cuddling, like some hardcore cuddling is happening right now, but Peter's not going to call it out. He might have, before, but...not right now. "Roommates can kiss each other hello. Pretend we're...I don't know, French or something. Enchanté, Monsieur. I can't pay rent this month but I sure can give you a roll in the hay you won't forget."

"I must admit," Peter snickers to himself, peering down at Tony. "'He's my ex-boyfriend, but current-roommate' does have a nice ring to it. That's like the perfectly-designed phrase for awkward encounters."