st_arkintern | (no subject)

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Today, Peter Parker's the one behind the bar. Tony sits on the barstool opposite from him. Typically, they stand at about the same height, but when he's seated, Tony's just the tiniest bit shorter.

Peter looks down at the glass, and then down at him. "You think this is enough alcohol?" he asks, gesturing at the glass, filled with amber-colored rum. He'd asked Tony if he'd help him learn how to make drinks, but Peter was self-conscious about the entire affair, checking in for the Tony Stark seal of approval almost every step of the way.

He really wanted to make a good drink for Tony.

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“Like he needs it.” Tony made no comment on Peter’s presentation, downing the glass in one go. The burning that slid from his mouth to his chest was cleansing.

Peter doesn't pour another shot. Not quite yet.

"Yeah, I guess he has armor already," Peter says to that. He doesn't really wear it around the inn, but he has seen it before, set out on top of Thor's dresser.

Still, Tony's explanation -- they were working on something together -- made all the other pieces click together. Why they spent so much time together, even though Tony didn't spend nearly as much time with Steve.

"What are you two working on then?"

“It’s a solo operation as of present.” Tony simply pushed his glass back for another round. “He did his part.”

This time, Peter pours another shot for him. It kinda seems like Tony's trying to dodge the question.

Peter decides to press.

"What are you work on, then?"

“Classified.” The shot was down his throat no sooner than it’s been poured. He made a silly little chuckle. “Sorry.”

"Okaaay." Tony's clearly just treating him like a kid again.

Peter takes a sip of his Roy Rogers and sets it down on the bar. Only after he's taken that sip does it occurs to him that soda and maraschino might be part of why he was treating him like a kid.

Peter turns around and dumps the rest of the drink in the sink.

"So is there anything you can tell me?"

"Avengers business. Not bar talk." Tony met Peter's stare head on, clearly willing to make that point abundantly clear.

Peter grabs a shot glass from the shelf he found Tony's and then sets it down on the bar across from his with a clink. He pours a shot for himself first, then another one for Tony.

"Are you in a bad mood or something?"

"Only slightly more than usual." Tony tapped his glass against Peter's and lifted it, waiting them to take one in unison. "Nothing to do with you, Pete. Tequila's lightening me up."

Peter taps his glass back and then downs it, the liquor burning all the way down his throat. He can't imagine someone enjoying a lot of these straight like this. It wasn't pleasant.

"What does it have to deal with, then?" Peter mentally deliberates whether or not he should pour Tony another and decides against it.

Tony didn't answer. The impulses to answer with something evasive or something even acknowledging that the first thing out of his mouth would be evasive didn't fire off completely. Words made it as far as an unpleasant constriction of his diaphragm. Not eating breakfast, lunch, or even a brunch was gonna be the death of him. His head was already swimming.

"I would..." He pushed the shot glass aside and exchanged it for his glass of water. "...Really like to count my blessings."

Peter finds Tony's answer surprising. Peter presses his forearms against the table and leans forward a little.

"What's stopping you?"

"Out loud." Tony pounded the water back, sliding it aside when he's cleared the last drop. "Starting with...Cap. Yeah." He took a deep breath and slicked his dark hair back, as if that would sober him any. His guard was lowered enough from the drink and Peter's company enough to say it, but not enough for the struggle to dissipate entirely.

"I'm glad you're getting to know him from before--...you know." A vague gesture. "You're getting to know him how I knew him."

Before Berlin. Peter knows exactly what Tony wants to say but can't.

"I don't know. I don't know him that well, but he doesn't seem like a bad person," Peter says. "He really does seem like the Captain America from the PSAs sometimes. I'm just glad I don't have to have him give speeches about detention or safe sex or stuff."

Captain America had done a lot of PSAs.

"There's a lot you can learn about not being a bad person from him, Pete." Tony leaned his cheek into his palm, eyes distant with the memories. Even though he was always roundabout admitting it, Captain America was the true leader of The Avengers. And while Tony wouldn't admit it in words, he never wanted to accept that burden. Steve Rogers took it on his shoulders willingly.

That was before. The reality of their fallout was already set in stone for Tony Stark. Maybe it wouldn't have to be for the Steve Rogers of the inn.

'And you're just hooooooolding back.' Tony was quick to remind himself. His jaw clenched, and he dragged a lonely bottle of Grey Goose over. "Hit me with that ginger ale."

Peter isn't quite sure what to make of Tony, so instead of asking if something happened, he scoops some ice into a glass and fills the glass with ginger ale halfway.

"You shouldn't mix alcohol," Peter points out, though Tony had already consumed a large variety of spirits since they came down here.

"Well that's what the ginger ale's for." Tony promptly added a single shot and stirred it in with one of the stirrers placed up in a tin. "Don't try and take it from me, either. I've got a history with that."

That requires some clarification.

"What, with people taking your drinks away?"

"Yes, with--ginger ale." There was an ancient memory dredged up. It didn't feel so fond to recall now, but it wasn't unwelcome. "Ginger ale. Just...something dumb."

Peter gets the feeling he should change the subject, but he's not sure how to do it without it seeming obvious.

For a few long moments, he doesn't say anything, trying to mentally scramble for that perfect segue. Then suddenly, he blurts out:

"Ned's really nervous about meeting you."

Okay, so maybe it wasn't his best attempt. He tried, though.

"Mm." Tony stared at the warped reflection in the poppling liquid. In those moments of silence he'd fully immersed himself in the memory and all the twists and turns that came after, leading up until now.

"Something dumb." Tony murmured, rubbing his eyes under the glasses. "Jesus."

Okay. Tony definitely has something on his mind. Really on his mind.

And Peter's getting the feeling that maybe Tony needs to talk about it.

"What's going on?"

Not "is there something going on", but what.

"Counting those blessings." Tony shot Peter a smile as he gathered his hands together. He let the ginger ale be for now--it was oddly bittersweet. "Point Break. I was hoping he'd be here. Maybe give you a few pointers on shotgunning."

"I'm sixteen," Peter points out in a moment of self-awareness. "I probably shouldn't be shotgunning anything."

He probably shouldn't be drinking, but this place wasn't exactly America and the only person he really drank with was Tony.

"Not with that attitude." Tony chuckled. "Maybe he can teach you how to bench press. He did that with me, once."