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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"I don't know. What would I tell him?" Tony laughed again, nodding in appreciation for the water. The world seemed to be fading away, and it was as if he was having a conversation with his own conscience. He was in an entirely different state of being--the kind of version of himself that could express himself without the several layers of sarcasm and frigidity that composed his outer shell.

"That--That I wish I'd been a better teammate. A better half. That I could detach myself enough from what's looming up in the sky to remember what I've got here on earth for two goddamn seconds."

Peter's never seen Tony this vulnerable before, and he's disarmed by it. It takes him a moment to find the words, and then another to open his mouth and actually say it. Even as he begins speaking he's not sure if it's the right thing to say to him, or if any of it is going to make sense.

"You're worried, right? I don't know what helps for you because everybody is different, but... when Ned first found out I was Spider-Man, I was freaked out. But later on, I ended up just feeling relieved that I had someone to talk to. I didn't have someone I could talk to about it for a long time." Or what felt like a long time to Peter, who had been Spider-Man for a year before anyone other than Tony Stark found out.

Peter fills his own glass up with ice and water and sets it in front of Tony's, like the start of a line of toy soldiers.

"I don't know," Peter admits. He knows he's young and doesn't have a lot of life experiences compared to nearly everyone else. "I guess I'm just saying that you should try talking about it with someone. It might help."

'You are using a teenager as your goddamn therapist.' The rational part of Tony's brain returned him to reality with a harsh jolt.

No. No. No. Bad Iron Man. No. He failed at his love life--again. Why not try NOT to fail at his parenting while he was at it? Peter didn't need to know this. He didn't need to know a great many things and definitely not THIS. Christ, where did it end with him?

"Pete. Let's back up. I'm rambling. I do that." He gestured back and forth. "Look--I'm sorry. None of that came out right. We're moving on."

Peter's not so willing to let the topic shift away that easily. He leans over the bar a little and looks at Tony intently.

"Dad," Peter says, and he waits for Tony to make eye contact with him before continuing. "If what you're doing now isn't working, you need to stop doing that." A beat. "Okay?"

Peter straightens, takes a long sip of his water, then sets his glass back down.

Tony suddenly pushed back. His body seemed to be punishing him for even thinking of saying something smart in the way his stomach lurched. If it were less urgent, he’d have requested more ginger ale to settle it.

“Pete.” He replied in a very controlled manner. “I have a follow up. But first, I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for much of an answer, he was pushing off through the double doors. Of everything his suit had, space to vomit didn’t factor in.

Peter watches as Tony walks off, not entirely certain if he should let him go off or go period. If he needs to pee, though, following Tony to the bathroom only to idly stand by as his father figure relieves himself would be awkward.

Instead, he lets Tony go without protest and starts washing the cups in the sink.

They'll continue their talk when Tony gets back.

Edited 2018-11-20 21:35 (UTC)

Thor is on the way to the bar when he spots him:

Tony Stark.

Thor hadn't gone out of his way to avoid him the last couple of days, but still, they'd managed to miss one another completely. Most likely because Tony was holed up in his lair. Thor had been everywhere. If Tony had left his room for longer than an hour or two, they certainly would have encountered one another eventually.

And eventually was now, apparently. As he heads towards the double doors of the Silverbar Lounge, he watches as Tony walks (staggers? Thor's not sure) out.

Thor freezes and for the first time since he agreed to give Tony space, he wonders what space really is. Is he allowed to say hello? Have conversation? Or should he avoid him entirely, the same way he dodged Bo?

He's not really sure. Instead, he waits for Tony to make the first move so he can take his cue.

Tony missed the mountain in front of him until he was walking headlong into it. His armor activated out of self defense, and he blinked like a dazed chipmunk as he stumbled back.

"Oh, hi! Wow. Hey. Long time no--no contact. Sorry about that, by the way. How's life? How's Loki?" Tony made a slow arc around Thor, his nausea barely contained. "Tell him I like him as a tiny furry kitten. Good times."

If Thor wasn't sure of it when Tony nearly plowed into him and he got a whiff of the alcohol hanging off him, he was certain of it from the casual tone of Tony's voice:

Tony Stark was drunk.

He doesn't bother asking him if he's been drinking, because he absolutely knew that Tony had been.

"Things are fine, Loki is fine. Not a kitten, though." And sadly, not a snake either.

"How are you?"

Coming to a stop once he'd made a 180, he was suddenly aware of his two options. Run to the bathroom and forget the encounter, or say everything on his heart and on his mind. Peter's advice, broad as it was, hit him in his core.

Running was an effort in futility. It ended up with him metaphorically and near-literally spilling his guts in front of his son. It wasn't working.

And then, Tony Stark was filled with a resolve. It was sudden and overpowering. Maybe he couldn't make things right, but he could set the record straight.

"I--" Another stomach lurch--far stronger than the last. Tony pushed on. "I--" And another. When next he opened his mouth, he doubled over and the muffled sounds of liquid expelling against the interior of his armor became apparent.

Oh.

Oh no.

Thor winces.

"I'm going to pick you up now," Thor says. "We're going back to your room and get you cleaned up."

Thor doesn't bother waiting for Tony's approval. Instead, he picks Tony up into a princess carry and begins the trek back to his room.

"No need, no need." Tony insisted through a strained throat. "F.R.I.D.A.Y."

"Dry Cleaning protocol initiated, Boss."

Iron Man literally began steaming in Thor's arms as the liquids and the semi-solids degraded via nanite TLC and escaped through micropores in his armor. The true miracle was Tony resisting an Ironing Man joke.

"Listen to me." Tony pressed his palm against Thor's cheek, desperate for his honest attention. "I am a hot, piping, smoking mess of a human. Literally. And I go around and around with my evolved monkey brain telling my moron lizard brain how he can screw up intelligently and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Thor marvels at the way easily disposed of the waste inside with a hot cloud of steam. Was there anything that Tony's suit was not capable of?

Thor thinks about that for a moment, then decides it probably isn't capable of sobering Tony up right now.

Thor presses forward as Tony begins to speak, but stops the second his hand touches his face. Thor listens, and he feels something reverberate inside of him, like a finger plucking the string of a guitar.

"You're drunk," Thor tells him and he starts down the hall. "Is your door locked?"

Does Tony even remember if it is?

"Yes." Tony agreed easily, as if that wasn't obvious enough. "And yes. ...Wait. Did you write just me off?"

"I'm taking you back to your room so you can sleep it off," Thor tells him. "If you still want to have this conversation when you're sober, we can have it then."

Tony's foot propulsors activated and he was flipping right out of Thor's grip, managing to stick his landing.

"I am killing myself over here trying to be direct, we're not together, and you don't even believe me when I say I'm sorry!"

"It's not that I don't believe you right now --"

Tony's being extremely earnest and Thor really believes that Tony feels this way right here and right now.

"-- but are you sure you're still going to feel like this tomorrow?"

"You mean after I apologize to Peter for drinking and double down on that promise to seek therapy?" Tony had no intentions of just abandoning the boy--but he was in the moment with somehow else whom he owed a great deal. The vomiting had a halfway sobering effect.

"It's been on my mind non-stop." Enough to distract him from the five reality warping fruity pebbles. Small blessings. "I won't get on my knees and plead you back. Sober enough to spare us that much. I just want you to believe me."

Thor gestures at his own face.

"Take the -- take the mask off. I feel like I'm having a conversation with a robot."

Tony approached, apparently ignoring Thor's request as he grabbed the other man's hand and pushed it against his reactor--triggering the armor to recede into his usual Black Sabbath-jeans combo.

"...Believe me, I've got a case." He murmured, a faint melodic lilt to his voice.

Thor's open palm stays there for a moment longer than it probably should before falling down to his side.

"What are you talking about?"

“On Nancy. With the laughing face.” Tony pushed his glasses up on his nose, smiling. “She takes the winter, and she makes it summer. And summer could take a few lessons from her.”

Pity ‘Thor’ didn’t right amount of syllables.

“...I’m sorry. I’m not good with words. Lyrics are only somewhat better.”

Thor's initial surprise at the sight of Tony bursting into song quickly melts away into affection.

"You are a complete enigma, Tony," Thor says, and he reaches out to tousle Tony's hair playfully.

Tony’s head bobbed with Thor’s rough hand on it, struggling to keep his center of focus on the man’s face.

“I do love you. If I made you doubt that...”

"I know you do." Thor runs his hand along the back of Tony's head and his neck before letting it fall down to his side.