[For Tony & Peter] Dated 21 May 2011

[wildlyconflictd]

Perhaps it's naive of her to think as much, but Pepper feels confident that Peter will show. Even with as erratic as his behavior has been since Mary Jane's disappearance, he'd seemed so thoroughly surprised to have her demand nothing more from him than his company over dinner. She thinks that, if nothing else, the novelty of that will bring him

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[daretodo]

The clarity of anger is short-lived. I burned through the worst of yesterday's rage shortly after I left Pepper, and spent the last 24 hours or so revisiting every scrap of food I've shoved down my throat in the past month. It didn't take long for the reality of what I did to sink in, and while I'd argue 'til my last breath that I'm not crazy, that there was a legitimate point underneath all the vitriol, there's no denying I might've gone about it better. But what's done is done. Whatever life I made for myself here disappeared the same moment as Mary Jane, but I'm the one who shoved the final nail into my own coffin... And that's not a metaphor I make lightly.

Maybe it's better this way. My life here never felt quite right, and not just for the obvious reasons: the lack of powers, the being away from New York and my family and friends. All of that still stands, of course, but I never could quite shake the feeling that I was just a kid playing dress up. That the façade I showed people was just as much a mask as Spider-Man ever was. I've always kept others at arm's length; my own aunt thought me mysterious, and there's no one in this world or any other that I love more. I wish I could see her now. Not because I think she'd be proud, but because she always knew just what to say, even if I rarely told her what was wrong. I could use that sort of guidance right now, that sort of comfort, but I know it won't come.

That's the problem, isn't it?

I'm alone. The last Parker standing. At least in name, if not in blood. I bet Jessica's real glad to be a Drew right about now, though. I don't know that I'd blame her if she was.

The trek up to the mansion seems longer than usual, but maybe that's just because I'm dragging my feet all the way. Despite what I said yesterday, I couldn't be less hungry now, my stomach churning at the thought of having to withstand company, but in the end I go because I can't help but wonder if these two, Pepper and Tony, are the only ones who'd take me, not out of some weird form of obligation, but because we've weathered worse storms.

I'm tired by the time I reach the front door, my forehead damp with sweat. I didn't bother dressing up for the occasion, simply pulling on the cleanest pair of jeans out of the pile in my living room and a black sweater; both are hanging off of me. I'm not a big guy to start with, but I'm thinner than I've been in years, my stubble having long since grown into a short, if full beard. I look like a contestant on Survivor, except there's no one around to snuff my torch.

Taking a moment to steel myself, I knock. I've had too many people break into my house over the past few weeks to just let myself in like usual.

[notawastedlife]

"Mr Parker at the door," said Jarvis. Tony initially ignored him, since that generally meant that Mr Parker would be inside the door a moment later, and then probably coming down to the workshop.

Or in this case, the larger living area through which one passed to get there.

This did not, in fact, happen.

"Dope, get the door," Tony said, stepping over the robot to walk over to the door and get it himself, since obviously that wasn't going to work out.

"You're knocking, now?"

[daretodo]

I don't like leaving others to clean up my mess. I've always been pretty good at cleaning up after myself, granted, because there's not a lot of people inclined to stick their neck out for me, but seeing Tony again after yesterday's show -- that's the word I keep going back to, that it was a show, a routine, maybe because I don't want to acknowledge it as a meltdown -- just stirs up every shred of guilt I have over the whole thing, though probably not for the reasons people might suspect (or even want, for that matter, not that I imagine anyone wanting anything from me in the near future). I don't meet his gaze, instead staring just off to the right, looking at a point over his shoulder.

"I've relearned the value of privacy ever since folks started to forget that that large, rectangular thing they keep barging through is actually meant to keep them out," I say, taking that as my cue to step inside, though once there, I'm momentarily distracted by the new robot. A smile -- albeit a small one -- touches the corners of my mouth, and I drop into a crouch to get a better look at it, murmuring under my breath, "Hey, little fella." Interesting design, if still in the earlier stages. I reach out to touch it, then rethink that plan, retracting my hand, and abruptly standing up.

"Hi," I add, somewhat belatedly, to the room at large.

[wildlyconflictd]

Pepper restrains a roll of her eyes at the remark about barging through closed doors-She'll not feel guilty for it, nor change anything could she do it again.

"Hello," she says instead from across the room, one hand settled on a canted hip as she watches the two men at the door with a fond but knowing expression. "I'm glad you could make it." That Peter's looking a bit cagey doesn't escape her notice, but that he showed at all seems more important just now.

"If you want to sit down, I'll get the food," she adds, and hesitates just a moment, looking from one to the other, before stepping through to the kitchen.

[notawastedlife]

"You, workshop," Tony said, nudging Dope with a foot and closing the door behind Peter. "You, table, apparently... she'll get the food."

Well, that worked, but possibly he wasn't meant to assume that was so, with the current new state of affairs. Well, it wasn't as new, but comparatively.

"Don't worry, no one in here made it."

[daretodo]

Trying to imagine either Tony or Pepper in the kitchen almost makes me laugh -- would they wear the whole chef's outfit, designer-made and pristine, only to burn down the entire house? -- but I manage to bite it back. Well, mostly.

"So this isn't a cleverly disguised assassination attempt," I say with a slow nod, heading towards the table after a moment's hesitation, and sliding into a chair. This all feels disconcertingly domestic. "I'd wondered."

[wildlyconflictd]

"I did manage the salad," Pepper says upon return, arms full. "I can be trusted to chop vegetables, but that's about where my culinary expertise stops if you don't count espresso. Tony," she tips him a glance as she arranges the dishes in the middle of the table, "there's juice and water in the kitchen, could you please go get it?"

Surveying the spread, she pulls a slightly bewildered face. "You know, we sit at this table and eat all the time, but it still feels weird. Too many years of take out and room service." Looking to Peter, she smiles. "You're our first official dinner guest, if you don't count parties."

[notawastedlife]

Tony halted in the middle of sitting down, stood up and swung around the chair in an attempt to seem as if he'd just been pulling it out for Pepper. Then he abandoned the effort entirely and headed for the kitchen.

"We have a friend over for dinner, that's not- no, it's weird," Tony said. "For us."

He turned blankly around inside the kitchen, then through the intent application of his vast intelligence was able to work out where the juice and water were and return with them.

[daretodo]

Tony Stark is bringing me juice.

Well, okay, technically speaking, Tony Stark is bringing everyone juice, but if you'd told me a year ago that I'd be sitting at Iron Man's dinner table, with his steady girlfriend and his nonalcoholic beverages, I would've called you crazy with a side of absolutely insane. My eyebrows shoot upwards, making cozy with my hairline, and I stare at the pitcher with a general air of distrust. This is Stepford. This is some bizarre reality where I keep losing the women I've loved to a potentially sentient landmass while Tony and Pepper have been here, together in one way or another, for nearly three.

I'm not an envious person by nature. I have my moments, sure -- I'm not a saint -- but on the whole, it's just not who I am. Even so, I can't help but chance a glance down to my hands to make sure they haven't turned green, and it has nothing to do with any wayward gamma rays.

The smile I conjure up is both bitter and brittle. "To the happy couple."

[wildlyconflictd]

Were the circumstances any different at all, it would seem fairly ludicrous to look at Tony and Pepper's co-dependency and be envious of it. Even now, Pepper has days where she feels unbalanced by the state of their relationship and by the fact that they have a relationship at all. She's Tony Stark's girlfriend; that doesn't seem like it can be reality.

"Peter," she quickly begins, mustering up a restrained smile, "the truth is, this is entirely for you." She hopes that Peter knows them both well enough by this point to recognize the strained facade over the current exercise, but recognizes too that he isn't precisely himself just now. "We have a proposition for you, and I'm not above using pizza as leverage." Her smile briefly quirks and then settles again as she shoots Tony an uncertain glance.

[notawastedlife]

Tony shoot her one as unsettled as hers was uncertain. "That's how you launch into... well, it's not what she just made it sound like," he said, depositing the water and pouring himself a cup of juice before also putting it down, completely failing to pour anyone else a drink of any description.

Maybe the idea was to make it such a relief to hear what the actual idea was that he just jumped on the yes right away.

[daretodo]

"I've never been more relieved someone didn't want to sleep with me," I say mildly, though my expression more or less mirrors Tony's before it dissolves into something darker. I'm married is on the tip of my tongue, my go-to response for stuff like this even in jest, but I don't get the words out. I mean, it's not really true, is it? My ring's still on my left hand, Mary Jane's wedding set hanging on a length of thin, braided rope around my neck, underneath my clothes, but they're just symbols of a life that may as well have never happened for how suddenly it all came crashing down. Shaking off a fresh wave of guilt, I clear my throat, and reach for the juice in a bid to occupy my hands.

"So... We're not expecting a film crew?" I add, looking around the room, the ceiling. "Then again, you probably have surveillance in here-- The answer's a no, by the way."

[wildlyconflictd]

"That isn't what I meant," Pepper says, an unwavering, irritated stare directed at Tony. "You know, I hear that in some households, not everything is construed as innuendo," she chirpily continues, and slides a terse smile to Peter. "But not this one. You're going to have to get used to that if you're going to live here."

Directing her attention to the salad, she begins dishing some out onto her plate.

[notawastedlife]

"In some households they don't... say things that can clearly be construed as innuendo," Tony protested, reaching over and acquiring several slices of pizza for his plate.

"That was the proposition, by the way, she just kind of... slipped it in there."

He mentally reviewed that sentence.

"Okay, that one was my fault."

[daretodo]

The truth is, I don't actually know what I was expecting in coming up here. The pizza, obviously, but there's always a catch; being invited for dinner struck me as too simple, too ordinary. If I had my spider-sense -- and I'd been working on that, even if I abandoned it for other pursuits the past few weeks -- it would've probably tingled.

As it is, I just watch the exchange with a blank expression, completely caught off-guard by the offer. I'm not sure what to make of it, unable to not compare it to the last time a Tony Stark offered me a place to stay.

"I have a house."

[wildlyconflictd]

"I'm aware." Confirming with Tony that Peter staying with them was even an option had been the easy part of this plan. Convincing Peter that it was a good decision is something she's been meditating on since yesterday, and not once has she fooled herself into thinking it will go nearly as well.

The salad bowl is set aside and she turns her full attention onto her friend. "A house which, you yourself just pointed out, people have been barging into all the time. We'd let you have your own room and privacy when you wanted it, it's calm and quiet up here, and you'd be in close proximity to the workshop. There also just happens to be the benefit of me worrying about you less." Her gaze darts over to Tony and then back to Peter. "Just temporarily, of course."