Spooktober 09: Plant

a/n: [me uploading oneshot insanely late and behind] well well well... look what the cat dragged in

It was two weeks ago when he asked.

"Whether you go or not," Tony reassured him slowly, his eyes somber, "you're still going to be counted as an intern. I'm just saying, if you're worried about going just because you want it to show on your resumes, or applications, or— or anything like that, don't be. Don't be worried."

Peter blinked several times, taking it all in, struggling to click the words Tony's saying into place. With the way he was acting, you'd think Tony was asking him offering a train for him to jump in front of.

"I'm not worried," Peter laughed breathlessly, his eyebrows furrowed. His laugh falters off. "I mean, are— are you worried? I don't need to go if you don't want me to."

"No! No— I mean," Tony exhaled stiffly, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose. "I have a complicated history with these sort of parties. That's all, kid. I just know you've been wanting some internship stuff to show on your record, so Pepper told me to offer this."

"So, it's like a business party?" Peter clarified. "I've been to those before. May's brought me to some for F.E.A.S.T., they aren't too bad."

"Lets just the people working at your aunt's charitable nonprofit is a little different than the crowd around S.I.," Tony said dryly. "Like I said, you're more than welcome to go. Or not go."

Funnily enough, this wasn't the first time Tony tried to bring his name's company in conversation. Key word to explain, tried. To be clear, Peter has never had any difficulties with the subject; but at some point he realized it was a sensitive subject for Tony, so it never comes up unless it's on his own terms.

This is as rare an occurrence as expected, but every time it has happened, Tony acts so entirely nervous that it can be confusing as to how Peter's supposed to respond. Every sentence always ends with a BUT, always making sure to add an easy escape plan for Peter to deny.

He isn't sure what to make of it. He's still learning.

Peter shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean... it's just one party. It sounds exciting."

"Alright then. It's on the ninth. I'll pick you up."

"Okay," Tony set his jaw. He nodded once. "Sounds good."

So.

Two weeks later, and Peter is asking the entire drive there if there's anything specific he should know, anything he should be saying, anything he should not be saying, and Tony answers every one with an extraordinary amount of patience.

"Does my suit look okay?" Peter asks, and the elevator is going up, up, up, all the way to the rooftop. They're at some fancy building that Tony said he only uses for business events, or something. "I'm not underdressed, right? Or— is my tie straight? I feel like it's crooked, is it crooked?"

Through the tangible waves of his anxiety, Tony spares enough time to give him this fond, half-tilted look and shakes his head.

"It is now," he says, moving forward to brush Peter's fidgeting hands away from the tie. He straightens it properly, and pats it down. "You look fine, very professional. Good job, kid. They'll think you're the son of a very wealthy business major or something."

"Electrical engineering major?" Peter jokes. He immediately shuts his mouth, his ears going red.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at him. After a moment, he adds: "I also majored in physics."

They step through the doors, walking out onto a very busy balcony. The party seems to swell as people recognize who's just arrived, and people begin to make their way around just to catch a glimpse of the illustrious Stark.

The thing is, as it was explained to Peter earlier, the only reason Tony is even at the party is for appearances.

("Everyone knows Pepper is the one in charge," Tony rolls his eyes. "But nevertheless, they put my name on the invitation, and if I don't show up to at least one a month the stocks start tanking. This is basically just my homework.")

Even so, Tony blends in with the crowd of the party in a way Peter's never seen before. He's like an entirely different person, which is strange because— he's familiar, isn't he? This is the Tony Stark he grew up seeing in the news, isn't it? It's the one he's had talking in his ear everytime he did his homework until he was like, twelve.

Tony smiles at those around him, and it may pull at the lines of eyes but there's a distinct lack of light in them. He waves casually to everyone who nods a greeting at him, but his arm is tense, and his spine is rigid.

Peter trails along behind him, going wholly unnoticed. It sort of feels like walking through the hallways at school, only if he was friends with the most popular kid for once, and everyone who he was brushing into him wore stuffy business suits instead of backpacks.

It's would be funny watching the switch of personality Tony undergoes between stranger and known person, if it weren't so fascinating first and foremost. He's laughing at someone's bad joke, the kind that's hollow in his chest and forces a cheek-burning smile—and then Peter taps him on the shoulder to murmur how someone's purse looks more expensive than his Very Good Condition Han Solo-on-a-Tauntaun collectible figurine— and suddenly his eyes light up and his laugh sounds so much brighter, and Peter can't understand why nobody else can tell.

"The food here is so good," Peter says to him quietly, immensely pleased with his tenth hors d'oeuvre. He very politely tries to wipe his hands on a paper napkin. "Is all rich people food like this?"

Tony guffaws, but he looks so amused that Peter knows he's not offended. "Definitely not. One day I'll take you to try this one LA restaurant's escargot— cost an arm and a leg, gave me food poisoning for four days."

Peter grimaces, sticking a laugh.

Tony chuckles, pats him on the shoulder, gently tugs him around in that gruff, paternal way that Peter is still getting used to again. Then he's pulled into yet another conversation that Peter's never seen.

Nobody has really looked at Peter the entire party. Nobody has engaged him in any conversation, they don't really pay him any mind when he leans in to say something to Tony once in a while.

To reiterate, Peter's seamlessly blended into the background for generally the entire party.

This is why it is so obvious when he feels someone's eyes at the back of his neck.

Peter shifts, and his gaze falls over the man in question. He's on the far side of the roof, lingering close to the glass, and looking insanely shady. Cartoonishly so.

There's nothing specific sticking out that tells him something is wrong about the guy, other that the fact he keeps staring at Tony from across the party. Still, every time Peter tries to look away from the guy, even if for a moment, the familiar sense of dread and anxiety starts prickling again at the back of his skull, twitching in his hands.

He makes the call. He pulls at Tony's sleeve.

This is something they talked about, before. Peter's out. His 'get out of jail free' card.

Tony is in the middle of a sentence when Peter does it, and immediately he cuts it off. He doesn't even say an excuse to whoever he was speaking to. He turns around, his vigilant eyes make quick work of scanning Peter for any immediate distress.

("Okay, I'm going to say some important shit here," Tony said, spinning around in his chair. "Listen up."

"Listening," Peter said, quickly finishing the numbers on his page. He dropped the pencil and looked up, and immediately froze at the intensity of Tony's gaze. "Uh..."

"There's going to be a lot of people," tony explained seriously. "They might act polite, but they won't give two fucks about pushing you around or getting too close."

Right. So he was back on the event again. Peter frowned, and nodded at the warning, thinking that was it. It was not.

"In the event something happens, and your senses get out of wack, or you get uncomfortable, or you just want to leave, for any reason, you let me know," Tony continued, each word pointed and sharp in the way that a seatbelt would dig into your neck.

Peter opened his mouth. He closed it again.

"Don't hesitate to bug me, I'm serious. I don't like talking to these people anyways, you'll only be doing me a favor if you drag me from some conversation about investing in some shitty influencer pyramid scheme. We'll call it a 'get out of jail free' card, alright?"

"You..." Peter struggled for words. "You really are planning a lot for this."

He couldn't tell whether to be confused, impressed, or concerned.

Tony's eyes went grave. "I wish I had one of these plans when I was your age and going to these things against my will. Even if you want to go, I'm not personally putting any kid through this without one."

Peter decided then that the proper response was to be reasonably upset.)

"Are you okay?" Tony asks firmly, his voice low. He puts his trust in Peter's ability to hear him, which thankfully, he does.

Peter nods, then subtly tries to gesture to the guy at the other end of the balcony. "Do you see that guy over there?"

Tony nods casually, taking a glass from the serving plate of a passing waiter. "Yeah, started setting off red flags when he walked in." He smiles, fake, waving at another stranger. "He setting you off?"

Peter, for the sake of urgency, sidesteps Tony's ability to apparently know danger without a sixth sense, and instead nods. He's frowning. He can feel it on his face.

"Don't look worried," Tony sips at his drink. "Act normal, kid. You act like something's off, he's gonna know that you see him. Smile."

Peter smiles.

"That's a terrible smile, you look like you have a gun to your head."

Peter stops smiling.

Tony finishes his drink. "Here's the plan. I'll go talk to him, I'll try to lure him away from all these people, you're gonna keep a loose follow behind. When the time is right, we'll see what happens and either send him home or knock him out."

"You're gonna talk to him?" Peter whispers frantically.

"Yep." With that, Tony sets the empty glass on another tray and begins making his way through the crowd, leaving Peter no more time to argue.

So, what else is he to do except follow (loosely) behind Tony while he makes his way through the crowd.  The suspicious guy in question starts to widen his eyes as they corner him, and he makes their job far easier by booking it towards the exit.

Tony sighs. "Kid—"

"On it," Peter says, dodging and weaving through people to stay hot on the trail. Once he gets past the crowds, he's fast, and makes it to the door at the same time.

He feels suddenly very vulnerable without his mask, and realizes belatedly why Tony's previous plan worked the way it did. Either way, it wasn't going to work anymore, so instead Peter gets them both inside and holds onto his wrist.

The man struggles like a rat caught by the tail. "Let go! Let go of me!"

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Peter asks politely. "You're gonna wanna tell me before Mr. Stark finds them, I'll be nicer about it. Better be quick, I can hear him walking. One, two..."

"Knife!" The man splutters quickly. "There's a knife! On my waist, it's on my waist!"

Peter quickly finds it, pulls it off, chucks it to the floor. Tony slips through the door now, wearing his glasses— he starts looking the guy up and down.

"Alright, what is it?" Tony demands. He juts his chin sharply to the side. "You want something? Money? Endorsement?"

"No," the man says. Now that the initial shock has worn off, anger begins to bubble in his eyes. "None of that. You fired me. I want my damn job back."

Tony makes an uninterested noise. "I don't know why I fired you, but considering you've stalked me and my intern to a private event to do god-knows-what for your position back, I'm going to say it was the correct call."

"No," the man seethes. "No! It was my idea! You— you thief— I'll kill you! I'll kill you and the goddamn kid—"

The facade on Tony's face shudders into something dark. He folds his glasses and sticks them in his pocket, and steps close to the man's face. He looks at him with scrutiny, his lips curled in finely controlled ferocity. 

"Say it again."

The man pants, fighting against Peter's grip again. He snarls, keeping Tony's eyes. "I said I'll—"

Without so much of a twitch, Tony wrenches his fist back and drives it into the man's nose.

The man goes limp instantly, his eyes rolling back in his lolling head.

"Holy shit," Peter breathes, and after a moment of shock, drops the unconscious man to the ground. "That was insane. Are you okay?"

Tony grumbles, shaking his knuckles out. "Peachy. Hey, kid, how about we ditch this party? There's a Van Leeuwen ice-cream cone with your name on it."

"I—" Peter stares back down at the guy incredulously. He gives Tony a pointed, confused look. "—are we not gonna—?"

Tony taps the side of his glasses twice. Starts making his way toward the elevator. "Happens more than you think."

Peter scrambles to catch up with him, casting repeated looks back at the unconscious dude. Security have begun to come in from the balcony. "Why do you sound so annoyed? How often does this happen?"

"Jesus, doesn't it?" Tony scoffs. "Attempts on the life get annoying when you've been dealing with it your literal whole life."

"...Wow."

"Anyways, I've officially decided," Tony says. He enters the elevator, his face stern. "Next time, you're staying home."