watchesthewatchers | coming in from the cold

He's gone for a month, and then he's back again, sitting on Tony's balcony, lighting one cigarette off the next, eyes closed.

"Spilling spy secrets to a pretty face. Or pair of shoulders, in your case."

Smiling.

"Don't be shy, you can say it. My face is pretty, too."

He grins.

"And you could've picked a worse person to spill your guts to."

"There are a lot of ways in which you could be a great deal worse."

Smiling, quietly.

Tony returns the smile and kisses his forehead.

"That's my boy."

"Could you leave me out here for a bit?"

He asks, quietly.

"Yeah. I'll be in the lab."

He doesn't want to leave him, but you would never be able to tell from how easily he moves.

"When I come find you, I'd like it if you could take control."

He admits, softly.

He looks at him, and nods.

"I will. Don't take too long. I'm kidding, take all the time you need."

He smiles at him, affectionate and warm and relieved.

He smiles back, and then ducks away, off to work and explain the bare minimum to Bruce.

Peter stretches out, smiling.