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readysetstarker · 4 years

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so, i’m guessing i’m in for an “ugh, finally” from a follower or two. i’ve been busy, gone through some very personal stuff over the last couple of months that made writing a near-impossible task for me. thankfully, i’ve mostly made it through. so sorry for such a long wait, my dears. i hope y’all enjoy.

also, much love to @quellthefire for, well, pretty much everything over the past few weeks. she knows everything she’s done for me. it’s why i specifically waited for her to return from work to post this, lol.

i’m sure some people have changed usernames or had blogs deactivated, and if you have, please PM instead of replying so i can fix your url on the tag list! i know it’s taken me way too long to get this part out, and a lot has happened since last september. sorry to make y’all wait.

Tag list: @loki-iwanttobeking, @strawberryparkers, @hoe4parker, @deliciousflapbanditfarm, @idontfeelsogoodmrspock, @srrnnrrs, @carttorchdeatth, @starkerhowlter, @starkeristhenameshippingismygame, @awesomeimportantfan, @itsjustmeowrooh, @starkravingspiders, @subverbaldreams, @this-starker-hoe, @moderndayqueenofscots, @prettyboy-parker, @sadbumblingmess, @winter-starker, @afreckledfairy, @lunakir, @parleroumourirr, @mintystarker, @starkerfics, @starkerprince, @mystarker, @aoifelaufeyson, @consciencecoward, @shinycreatoroafbonk, @themanandthespider, @jokesonme9000, @silkystark, @superpaperclip, @betteraskremus, @justallydavis, @marvel-shxt, @loki-helmet, @urfavisastarker, @haysend, @outlawbiscuits, @xmissemilyx-blog-blog, @silverloveless, @hereforagoodtimenotalong, @zoerayne2426, @kkomusume, @ardett, @seriouslystarker, @starkerprince, @shipperofalltheships, @morgoona-stark, @momobaby227, @idfuckanymarvelperson, @lltrashll, @richieleeparker, @haylove5, @katieb968, @xlace-babyx, @multi-fandom-fucker, @narutoyaoifan, @thatmarvelstan, @shinytoy, @allie-lyre, @country-cowgirl-101, @heyimstarker, @kiaorastarker, @nymeriasutcliff, @hoeforthegays, @ironspiidey, @annoyingcatto, @another-starker-hoe, @isomnelyswear, @starker-3000, @donttellanyoneitsmebabe, @peachbabytarte, @paintingbellarke, @pixiedragon99, @starterrrrrrrr, @pankade, @procrastinating-porcupine, @book-reviews-by-titch, @scared2death2live, @leatheronplaid, @untold-royalty, @kittycake574, @rk800puppy, @nerdylocksandthethreebears, @ikneelbeforemygod, @bipolarlatinx, @amazingness666, @fandombitchs-blog, @love-is-not-an-option, @starkerflowers, @theatrekidwithissues, @babygirl-barnes, @rebel13lion39, @cherrygoldlove, @casnovak88, @princess-parker, @blue-birb-blog

Warnings: peter is 19. anxiety attacks, mentions of a student/teacher relationship. nothing nsfw here. saving that for later ;)

—

Peter read the email over and over again, heart pounding like an uncontrollable jackhammer, and willed it to be fake. Some part of him hoped that maybe Flash had gotten ahold of Professor Stark’s email, gone through his computer, and sent it to throw Peter off. The things Flash had done and said to him back in high school, Peter wouldn’t count Flash out of doing something so… cruel.

Regret to inform you that your services as a teacher’s assistant will no longer be needed, the words said, each letter like a knife in Peter’s chest. Thank you for your interest in the position, but a more qualified candidate has been chosen to replace you. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this change causes...

He couldn’t bring himself to read the rest. His blood went cold, even as his heart pounded so hard he briefly thought it would jump out of his ribcage. This couldn’t be happening. He could just close his eyes and count to three, and everything would be fixed, right? Right?

Peter hastily clicked out of the window and began pacing his room. He chewed on a nail until it broke. What was he going to do? What was he going to say? He had already told May he had an announcement to make at dinner; she was expecting something good, if the way she was humming and singing to herself in the kitchen was anything to go by.

The last thing he needed to brag about was losing the position.

His fingers were moving across his keyboard before he could properly think. Pulling up the email again, sending Professor Stark a reply filled with apologies for anything and everything he had done wrong, and refreshing the page four times within the span of two minutes. Hopefully, Professor Stark wasn’t one of those teachers who didn’t respond to their emails.

Peter paced his room and refreshed the page until May’s voice finally floated in through his doorway, “Dinner’s ready, Pete! I don’t think I burned it this time.”

Peter’s heart jumped into his throat. He’d have to tell her.

The smell of definitely-burnt meatloaf clung to Peter’s nostrils when he entered the kitchen, a hazy, smokey fog hanging over the apartment. May stood at one of the windows in the living room and used a copy of The Daily Bugle to waft it out into the night. She brushed her dark hair out of her face with her free hand and offered him a weak, guilty smile.

“Okay, I lied. It’s a little charred. But I won’t be offended if you want to scrape off the black bits.”

Peter offered her a weak chuckle and went to set the table. He nervously ran his thumb over a chip in one of the plates while May abandoned her task of fanning out the smoke, but she left the window open. A gentle breeze and the smell of Queens at night joined them at the dinner table.

The meatloaf was dry and tough, but the vegetables she had cooked to go along with it were nearly perfect. She did tease him about how much salt he put over them before she took a sip of her water and cleared her throat. “So,” she started, and Peter didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “What was your big announcement? I’ve been dying all day, since you texted me at lunch.”

At lunch, I still had a job, he thought bitterly, buying some time for himself by chewing thoughtfully on a stalk of broccoli.

“Oh, yeah.” Peter swallowed and, wow, his tongue was ridiculously dry. Had he put too much salt on his food this time? No, he hadn’t, but he liked to think that it wasn’t his fear and anxiety making his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. “It’s, um, it’s not—”

“Is everything okay?” May asked, and the concern in her voice made his chest ache. “I know finals are coming up. Are you doing okay in your classes? Do you need help? You know, we have that retired chemist upstairs; I’m sure she wouldn’t mind tutoring you if I baked her a pan of my walnut brownies. She was asking for some the other day.”

“No! No, I’m doing fine in my classes. My astrology teacher actually made me exempt from taking the exam because I have the highest grade in the class.” Peter’s teeth dug into his cheek. “May, it’s about the teaching assistant job.”

“The what?” May perked up, eyebrows rising to her hairline. “What job? When did you apply?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” May shook her head, food forgotten, completely entranced by Peter’s next words. “Oh, um, the teacher of one of the dual enrollment classes I took in high school was hiring a couple of assistants for next year. I applied for it.”

Her face lit up; Peter could see the excitement in her eyes. His stomach dropped even further as she leaned in with a grin.

“Did you get it? You got it, didn’t you? Wait, when did you even apply? Why didn't you tell me you were applying?” she asked. Each question came so quickly Peter didn’t have time to answer. She was practically vibrating in her seat.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to say to that?

“I, um, I did my first training for it today,” he offered.

It wasn’t a complete lie, not a lie at all, but it still didn’t feel right watching May cheer and jump from the table so forcefully that she knocked her chair over. She didn’t seem bothered about disturbing the neighbors with the noise. May rushed around the table and threw her arms around his shoulders. Her kiss to his cheek was met with no protest.

“Oh my god, I’m so proud of you! Did you enjoy it? Does it pay?” she asked, and quickly followed it up with: “Oh, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you enjoy it. And that it doesn’t get in the way of your school work.”

Peter just nodded as she kissed his cheek again and ruffled his hair. “We have to celebrate! Oh, I have moose tracks ice cream in the fridge! Bought it on a whim. What excellent timing, though!”

May didn’t seem to notice the strain in his smile as she placed a noisy kiss to his forehead and abandoned her half-eaten loaf for fetching the ice cream from the fridge. Peter let the smile drop from his face the moment she was back in the kitchen, twisting his fork on his plate, a piece of tough and overcooked meat speared on the end of it. His appetite, already struggling, made itself non-existent now.

He had to do something to save himself the embarrassment of owning up to May. He couldn’t disappoint her, not with how excited she was, and how she politely (and, almost embarrassed) asked him to assist with rent.

The cherry on top of his horrendous night was calling Tony, hoping maybe he could distract himself or ask for a fitting punishment, one of the ones Tony dolled out when Peter really wanted him to be mean. His first call was cut short, barely making it to the third ring before an automated voice told him his call couldn’t be completed.

He tried again, hands shaking, heart jumping into his throat, hoping the operator on the other end wouldn’t judge or laugh at his desperation. She was monotonous as ever, but that didn’t stop his mind from supplying every little possible laugh and mocking word she would have said once he was no longer within earshot.

Waiting for Tony to pick up his second call was even more nerve-racking than the first time, and the rejection hurt that much more. He didn’t bother listening to the message again, shutting his phone off and tossing it to the end of the bed.

Peter’s eyes stung and the back of his throat ached.

He pretended to be content when he forced himself under the covers, hiding his face as he went to sleep with damp cheeks.

—

Peter had spent his entire morning building up the courage to confront Professor Stark. He had barely managed to focus enough on his psychology professor’s lecture to take decent notes, couldn’t eat due to the anxious churn in his stomach making him sick, and had to calm himself down from the edge of not one, but two meltdowns in one of the bathrooms in the social sciences building.

He needed to do this. Not just for him, but for May, for both of them to be able to stay afloat.

The landlord just raised their rent. He couldn’t afford to be passed over for the position.

So he struggled with his focus on classes, managed to avoid setting another fire in a chemistry lab for the second time that semester, and somehow didn’t drive himself completely insane. His leg bounced like he had four springs embedded into his heel during the last twenty minutes of his biochem class before they were dismissed, and he was the first student out the door.

He had practiced what he was going to say, his arguments on why Professor Stark needed to keep him, planned to cover any lingering doubts in his abilities. Sure, he only took the 101 lecture, but he was a quick learner. He could still assist with other lectures, if given the chance to study them beforehand.

And catching the older man off guard in his office played well in his favor, until Professor Stark gestured to one of the chairs Peter stood between and told him plainly, “Sit down.”

His argument, his perfect defense of himself, was shattered. Peter blinked, mind still trying to catch up with the sudden halt of his thought process. “What?”

With a nod to a specific chair, Professor Stark continued, “Sit. You want me to tell you why I cut you loose, right?”

Peter practically threw himself into the chair, flubbing over his, Yes, Mr. Stark. This is what he needed, to know where he went wrong, know what he needed to improve on. If it meant going home with six of Stark’s textbooks or a bruised ego because of the man’s infamous harshness, Peter was fine with that. He could take a shot to his ego.

He expected a little criticism.

What he didn’t expect was Professor Stark to clear his throat, lean over his desk, and fix him with a smirk before saying, “Okay, kitten. I can do that.”

Peter’s brain grinded to a violent halt. The words registered. His brain still refused to process them.

His first thought, once he could actually think, was That’s inappropriate.

Peter’s face pinched together with a mix of confusion and distaste. He’d heard horror stories of college professors who wanted sex in exchange for perfect grades, or internships, or anything else a student might need to progress academically. Mainly, he’d heard stories from female students, not male students.

Maybe Professor Stark was one of those teachers, and Peter had given him a bargaining chip by confessing just how serious his situation was. There was no way Peter was going to sleep his way into the position. He valued his pride more than that.

Peter had already thought of running to his advisor and making a report of Stark’s coming onto him, when the voice ran through his head again. The words played on repeat, a familiarity clinging to his tone—

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach.

Tony’s smirk deepened, but there was no pleasure in it. Mirthful, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his trimmed goatee with one of his hands. The other drummed on the arm of his chair as he waited for Peter to say something.

Peter’s tongue stuck to the top of his mouth. Speaking was a struggle, but somehow he managed to work out a few words, “Oh, my god.”

Tony laughed. His Tony. He looked… less than happy to see him. “You gotta understand the kind of predicament I’m in, yeah? This whole thing we started isn’t, well, good for either of us now.”

Peter’s face burned; he was sure that Tony could see him turning red all the way down to his neck.

He wished he could focus. He wished he could nod along and agree with everything Tony was saying, but God, it was so difficult to do any of that when he was staring Tony right in the face. All of the faces, the bodies, everything he had fantasized about when they weren’t talked could never have lived up to the man sitting in front of him. Even the grays in his hair were different; they lined his temples, as expected, but there were strands strewn about in the hair he had so carefully styled up and back.

And his voice was just as distracting as it was through a phone speaker.

Peter needed water. Was the A/C in Tony’s office broken?

“Um. Yeah,” he said, still slowly processing Tony’s words. How had he managed to work for the man earlier without getting distracted? Sure, the man’s voice had sounded familiar when he first heard it, but hearing the confirmation that he was exactly Peter thought of when he was at home—

Home. Shit.

“But!” he started, nearly jumping from his seat. Tony started at his outburst, eyes wide and brows high on his forehead. “But, Dad- Um, Tony. Stark. Sir. Professor Stark, please, I need this position. I’ll do whatever you want me to if it means keeping it.”

“Dangerous words in our current situation, kiddo.”

Peter scoffed. “It’s not like anyone knows.”

Tony clicked his tongue and grimaced.

“Who?” Peter asked, the blush in his cheeks fading to white.

“Dr. Strange.”

“Shit.” Peter put his head in his hands, rubbing patterns into the back of his eyelids. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Not like he had Dr. Strange’s class the next day, or the following week until finals. How was he going to look the man in the eye now?

He shook his head; he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Tomorrow, at 10 AM.

“Is…” Peter paused. How would he word this? Slowly, he figured, as he started speaking again, “Is what we’re doing... Is that the reason you want to fire me?”

“Pretty much,” Tony answered with a nod. “There’s only so much tenure can save my ass from.”

Peter swallowed, pretended that the low dip in his stomach wasn’t there. Firing Peter to save himself. Suave, handsome, but an asshole. He sure knew how to pick them.

“So, let’s stop.” Tony’s brows rose again. “The whole, you know, phone thing. The relationship. Whatever you want to call it. I need the job more than I need, um, that.”

Silence. Tony stared at him, face now a blank slate, eyes boring into Peter. He wished he could tell what the older man was thinking, if for nothing but to ease his anxious, pounding heart. His face felt hotter still. He was pretty sure he was beginning to sweat. Tony should get his A/C checked.

God, Peter wished he would speak already. The silence and scrutiny were killing him.

Tony’s hand came up to his goatee again, rubbing at his stubble and covering his mouth in the meat of his palm.

“Sound logic,” he said. His hand dropped from his face with a shrug. There was another moment of silence as Tony chewed on his lip and seemed to ponder over Peter’s words. “You really want this job?”

Peter had to push his hair out of his eyes from nodding so vigorously. “Yes.”

Tony tapped his finger on his desk a few times. Peter half-considered leaping over it and demanding an answer.

“...Fine. It’s yours. On one condition.” Tony held a finger out to him. “You do not use this situation against me, in any capacity. I mean it, no extortion. I’ll fire you immediately.”

“Got it.” Peter nodded. He certainly wasn’t planning on it; it was the last thing he would ever tell anyone outside of their situation. He was dreading Strange’s next lecture. That was already exceeding the amount of people he wanted to know about them.

“Good. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter failed at hiding his grin, and he wanted nothing more than to reach across Tony’s— Professor Stark’s desk and throw his arms around his neck. The word Daddy almost slipped from his mouth again when saying his thanks. He caught himself, rushing out of the teacher’s office for his next class. He was already late, but he didn’t care.

He still had the job. At this moment, that was all that mattered to him.

—

Back in his office, Tony ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

God, he was so fucked.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #my work #phone sex au #god finally #it feels like it's been ages #the chapter count has gone up now ;)

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