Thank you for the prompt! I didn’t proof-read this, though, I got impatient. There also isn’t anything nff in this - sorry if that’s what you wanted.
Having married Peter three years ago - after five years of dating, in which they’d gone through many ups and downs - Tony had effectively turned himself into a house husband. After retiring from SI and Iron Man (only partially, though, because the world always seemed to need Tony Stark, whether it hated him or loved him), he focused on himself and Peter. With nothing to do other than work in the lab whenever Peter was out, he refined his skills in the kitchen, figuring that he couldn’t keep living off of takeout forever. He and Peter were equally terrible when it came to cooking, so he figured, why not? That way, maybe he could even surprise Peter with breakfast in bed.
Peter was always going in and out of their apartment. He had taken over as Head of R&D at SI, which kept him busier than either of them liked. Adding on daily patrols as Spider-Man to his hectic schedule at SI, Tony only got to see his husband in the afternoons or evenings, depending on when Peter chose to start his patrol of the day.
He didn’t hesitate to put his foot down occasionally. He argued that, as Peter’s husband, he deserved more time with him than he got. Peter never disagreed or complained, just silently cleared his schedule and went along with whatever Tony wanted to do.
This was one such occasion. Peter had been away for a science convention, one that Tony would have loved to attend alongside him, but he hadn’t been allowed to bring a plus one. He’d told Tony that he couldn’t use his fame to weasel his way into the convention, placating him with promises of several days spent together with no interruptions.
“But you’re Tony Stark,” Sam said doubtfully, “Why wouldn’t they invite you to the convention, anyway?”
Bucky rolled his eyes, “Because he isn’t the one in charge anymore. Obviously, they’d invite Peter and not him.”
“You watch your tone, Barnes,” Sam narrowed his eyes, “Don’t speak to me like I’m stupid.”
“It was a stupid question,” Bucky shrugged.
Sam flipped him off, before turning back to Tony, “So, they want to impress Peter. Get contracts with SI, negotiate with him?”
“They better not impress him,” Tony grumbled, half-joking and half-serious, “I should be the only one doing that. But yes, Wilson.”
“When will he be back?” Bucky wondered, “He owes me another arm wrestle.”
Tony sighed, leaning back on the couch dramatically, “He’ll be back in five days. Can you believe that? Five goddamn days, how am I supposed to deal with that?”
Sam hid his smirk. “If that’s your reaction to a few days, I can’t wait to see what you’re like when he goes to Australia for two months.”
“When he what?” Tony’s eyes widened, “He didn’t tell me about that. When is it? I’m coming with him. If he thinks for even a second that he’s leaving me behind on this one-”
“I was just joking,” Sam snickered, “He’s not going anywhere.”
Tony’s shoulders slumped in relief, but he still managed to muster up enough energy to glare at him. “You try barely seeing your husband and see how you feel about it.”
“Do us all a favor and go on a vacation with him,” Bucky drawled, looking bored, “It’s annoying having to listen to you whine.”
Tony sighed heavily, “Is it so bad that I miss my baby?”
“Yes,” Sam and Bucky said in unison.
“But speaking of babies…” Sam leaned forward from the armchair he was sitting in, “Are you guys going to have any?”
Tony shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?” Bucky asked, finally seeming interested in their conversation.
“Maybe,” Tony said slowly, “I don’t want to be a shit father, so who knows? I don’t even know if Peter wants kids.”
“Then talk to him when he comes home,” Sam urged, “Usually, I’d say I don’t want another Stark running around the Compound, but babies are cute. Just don’t expect me to change any diapers and we’re all good.”
“As if I’d trust you with my kid,” Tony snorted, shaking his head, “You don’t have to worry about any diapers, especially because I haven’t even talked to Peter yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
The conversation moved on. Tony spent the next five days eyeing every clock he saw, impatiently wishing that time would go by faster. He was looking forward to seeing Peter again and getting in a few days’ worth of quality time. Peter came home early in the morning, and Tony was the first to greet him, kissing him soundly before he could take more than two steps inside.
“I missed you,” Peter murmured against his lips, dropping his luggage and twining his arms around Tony’s waist.
“I missed you too,” Tony reluctantly pulled away, “You hungry? I made you some pancakes.”
Like he said: total househusband now. He found that he liked it, though. It allowed him to take care of Peter in a way that he would love and appreciate; Tony had learned his lesson about expensive gifts years ago.
Peter lit up, “Pancakes sound so good right now.”
They sat down at a table in the common kitchen - that was their first mistake - and dug into the pancakes. Peter told him all about the convention, putting in enough details that Tony could visualize everything in his head.
“I had FRIDAY record everything through the glasses you made me,” Peter told him, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “You can watch everything later.”
Tony didn’t want to anymore. He had different wants in mind, and they led him to sitting on Peter’s lap and bringing him into a heated makeout. That was what they were doing when a throat cleared behind them, causing them to jump apart.
“Maybe don’t have sex on the table we all eat on,” Natasha pursed her lips, amused.
“We weren’t going to-” Peter started, his pale cheeks warming with a blush.
“Yeah, we were,” Tony cut him off, lips twitching at the way Peter glared up at him.
When the rest of the team started filing into the dining room, Tony sighed and moved to face the table rather than his husband, though he refused to get off of his lap. Peter didn’t mind, setting his chin on his shoulder wordlessly and holding him tightly enough that he wouldn’t fall off.
Since it was the weekend, and no one had any plans, they all shuffled into the theater room for a movie marathon. Tony had been looking forward to having some alone time with Peter, but they got roped into joining the rest of the Avengers, who claimed that Tony couldn’t hog his husband, as they had missed him too.
Tony thought he had every right to hog him, but he kept his complaints to a minimum and agreed, seething internally.
By the time they finished with their movie marathon, the sun had set and their stomachs were rumbling. Tony tried to leave with Peter so that they could have dinner in their private quarters, but Steve stopped him before he could, citing that they might as well spend the rest of the evening with the team. He suggested going to a restaurant, and the rest of the team agreed, so Peter and Tony were dragged along.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Tony snagged two seats for himself and Peter. Halfway through the dinner, Tony leaned over to whisper into Peter’s ear.
“How about we make a quick little rendezvous in the bathroom?” he suggested slyly.
Peter stared at him consideringly for a few seconds before nodding in agreement. He got up first, and was followed a couple of minutes later by Tony.
Tony locked the door to the bathroom and pushed Peter against the wall, attacking his neck with biting kisses. Within minutes, he had reduced Peter to a panting, flustered mess, but right as Tony’s hand brushed against his crotch, a sharp knock came from the other side of the door.
Tony groaned in frustration, dropping his head onto Peter’s shoulder, “Yes?”
“How much longer will you take?” Bucky complained, “This is the only bathroom in the restaurant.”
The men fixed their clothes and hair with practiced hands, cooling their faces with water from the sink before Tony unlocked the door. He stepped out of the bathroom shamelessly - in cool contrast to Peter, who was hiding behind him - and went back to the table.
The team didn’t seem to want to leave any time soon. They stayed at the restaurant for hours, which was enough to set Tony off again. He grabbed Peter and stood up, scowling at everyone who watched him do so.
“We’re leaving,” Tony said firmly, already pulling Peter out of the establishment, “It’s time for sexy times.”
“Please don’t call it ‘sexy times’,” Peter begged.
“Fine, fine,” Tony paused, “It’s time for our evening delight.”
“God, Tony, that’s even worse.”
“You know you love it, baby.”
“I really don’t.”