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Peter looks up as Steve enters Tony’s workshop, surprised to see him entering so casually, without even pausing to knock and without the usual announcement from FRIDAY that a guest has arrived.
With his slightly longer, darker hair and the full beard, Cap still doesn’t look quite like himself, but that deep, reassuring voice of his is the same.
“Tony, have you seen that blue button-down I was wearing last week? Ross wants me to do another talk show circuit, starting tomorrow—”
“Sorry, which shirt?” Tony greets him, coming from around the corner where he’d been reorganizing some of his tools. He probably had heard maybe a third of what Steve just said.
Peter had, of course, noted Tony’s clothes off-handedly when they met up earlier that day, and even remembered thinking that something looked a little off, that his shirt seemed too big, but now his outfit takes on a whole new meaning.
“Uh, that one.” Steve stops in his tracks, pointing two fingers at Tony.
“Oh, this one?” Tony looks down at himself, nonplussed. He has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the shirt fully unbuttoned, the fabric streaked in engine grease. He shrugs it off his shoulders, leaving him in only his black tank and jeans. He hands the shirt to Steve like the problem is solved.
He also looks up at Steve like he wouldn’t be averse to taking off the rest of his clothes, and all of Steve’s too.
All of this is news to Peter.
He coughs, the sound of it echoing across the cavernous space, and Steve turns toward him, startled. Steve colors. Tony smirks.
“Oh. Hey, Pete. I didn’t realize you were here.” He shoots Tony a look and the other man waves him off.
“Pete’s fine. Right, Pete? This—” He gestures between him and Steve. “Stays between us.” He gestures between all three of them.
“What stays between us?” He’s honestly not sure what he just witnessed, his brain still processing the fact that Mr. Stark and Captain America, who until three weeks ago were not even speaking to each other, are apparently having sex.
Having enough sex that Steve is leaving his clothes at Tony’s and Tony has taken to wearing them.
Tony winks at him, mistaking his very real confusion as purposely playing dumb, and lifts up on his toes to peck Steve on the lips. Right in front of him, just like that.
“See, all cool.” Tony announces. Steve turns to go, looking unsure, folding the dirty shirt over his arm. Tony grabs his ass. “Go charm the pants off America.”
Steve leaves, grumbling something to himself and shaking his head but smiling all the same, and Peter doubles down on the math problem in front of him, even though the numbers are no longer making a lick of sense.
He is so turned on right now, it is wildly embarrassing. Just the thought of Tony stripping Steve of his clothes was enough to make his face heat, but then he had to go and think about both men naked and kissing, and writhing, and thrusting, and—
He snaps his pencil in two, the top part of it bouncing to the floor. The noise of the lightweight cedar wood tinkling against cement catches Tony’s attention.
“All right over there, Parker?”
“Fine.” Peter gulps, hoping Tony doesn’t come anywhere near him. He’s hard, and he’s sweating, and even though he’s trying so desperately to think about something, anything else, the only image coming to mind is Tony on his knees, sucking Steve’s perfect cock.
Not that he knows for sure that it’s perfect, but…well, of course it would be.
Tony looks at him, eyes narrowing.
“So, you and Cap, huh?” Peter tries to act normal but his voice cracks tellingly. “When did, uh, when did that start?”
“Before.” Tony replies, waving his hand over his shoulder like that indicates the past, behind them. “Then I got back with Pepper, then I broke up with Pepper, but he ran off with Bucky, y’know. Shit happens.”
“Cap and b-b-Bucky?” He clutches the counter top, nails digging in. His imagination and his libido cannot take much more of this.
“Well, no. Not actually. But you would assume, right? I mean, I assumed.” Tony seems perturbed for a moment, but shakes it off. “He’s back in cryo anyway.”
Peter swerves from the little detour he took to think of Steve and Bucky in bed together and returns to thoughts of Steve and Tony. Steve sweaty and hard, bent over as Tony takes him from behind, to be particular.
“So now that our fugitive friends are back in the fold…Steve and I worked some stuff out.” Tony doesn’t explain further, though there’s clearly more explanation to be had.
Peter turns this all over in his mind, wondering if all the turmoil between the Avengers during the past two years had really been the result of a lovers’ quarrel. He can’t believe that Tony and Steve would risk that, let that all happen, just because they broke up.
“It wasn’t.” Tony replies, and Peter hadn’t realized he’d said that all aloud. “I mean, it was like 20% of it.” Peter stares at him. He winces. “Okay, maybe 25.”
“All right.” Peter nods, not sure he buys it.
“Ugh. Could you just come over here? This is a stupid conversation to be having shouting across the room.”
Peter can most certainly not get up and walk across the room at the moment. Absolutely, positively, not. No way.
He shakes his head adamantly, and Tony huffs, annoyed.
Then he gets up and starts walking over. Peter quickly tries to pull his t-shirt down to cover his groin, leaning forward onto the counter to try and hide the wholly inappropriate tent pitched in his jeans.
Tony pulls up a stool and sits beside him, and Peter shoves his hand in his hair anxiously and forces a tight smile onto his face that he prays comes across as totally innocent.
“Peter, I…” Tony starts soberly, really about to make this some kind of heart-to-heart, but then pauses, registering that something isn’t wrong so much as weird.
“We’re all good, Mr. Stark. I swear. Promise.” Peter assures him, but the pitch of his voice is so high it gives him away entirely.
“Pete.” He raises one eyebrow while his eyes drift pointedly downward. “Huh.”
“Oh god.” Peter shifts, trying again to hide it.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall if you want to…” Tony makes a lewd, jerking motion.
“Oh god, Mr. Stark, please stop talking.” Peter begs him, burying his head in his arms on top of the table, papers rustling as they are shoved aside.
“Cause that right there is gonna make it hard to focus.”
“Please don’t say another word. I totally want to die right now.”
“C’mon, Pete, it’s okay.” Tony puts a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me, it’s fine.” Peter lifts his head a little, unsure. “Come on now, up, face forward, there we go. You're a young guy, y'know, these things happen.”
Tony is smiling at him mischievously when Peter finally meets his eyes.
“Just one question. Blame a curious mind. Was it me, or Steve, that got you all…hot and bothered over here? Or is that about someone else entirely.” He points downward and Peter blushes all over again. It’s not that Tony isn’t attractive, but he is older. Peter’s never had occasion to think of him like this before. Tony is a mentor, has even become a friend. But Steve…
Steve, he barely knew. Steve, with his broad shoulders and tight ass, those blue eyes and that deep voice, and that fucking beard…
Peter tries to keep his gaze locked on Tony but his body betrays him, his eyes darting toward the door through which Steve just left.
Tony nods like his suspicions have only been confirmed.
“Well that makes sense. I mean, you and I have been working together for, what, over two years now? And—as far as I know, correct me if I’m wrong here—there were no erections popping up between us. Steve is the new variable in the equation. Hmmm.” Tony claps his hand to Peter’s thigh, dangerously close to where his cock is still—how, still?—throbbing between his legs. “I can’t blame you, kid. I am fucking him, after all, so clearly I see the appeal.”
“Mr. Stark, I am so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Pete. Nothing to be sorry about at all.” He sounds somewhat amused, but Peter can't believe that's not a front, that he's not offended.
"Please don't tell Cap. Please."
Tony nods, face softening slightly.
"No worries, Pete, I'll keep this just between us." He's serious, not teasing, but only for a moment. He pushes off Peter’s thigh as he stands. “But, uh, you really might want to hit the men’s room, cause that doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Jesus Christ.” Peter thumps his head down on the table as Tony walks away, whistling.