Chapter Text
Tony didn't know how long he'd been staring blankly at the wall, but it was long enough that the sound of footsteps in the hall startled him into movement, which had the muscles in his back and hips crying out in sudden discomfort.
For a heart-stopping moment, Tony was sure Ty was going to walk through the door, but instead, the face that peeked in was his son's. "Hey, Peter," Tony said with relief. There was no one else he'd want to see right now.
"Hi, Dad." He hovered in the doorway. "So, what happened?"
Tony gestured him in, and Peter sat next to him on the couch, curling into his side, more like he used to when he was ten than he often did now, at twenty. Tony hooked an arm around his shoulders and drew him in. "Your papa and I are getting divorced," he said, as calmly as he could. "I don't know if that's the answer you expected or the one you were dreading, but there really was no other way this was going to go."
"He's been cheating on you for a while, hasn't he?" Peter asked morosely.
"Apparently. A long while." Tony sighed and hugged Peter closer. "Oh, baby boy, I'm so sorry you had to find out like you did. I just keep thinking if I'd noticed, if I'd wondered, you wouldn't have had to see that."
"It's not your fault!" Peter insisted. "That asshole -"
"Language."
Peter snorted. "I'm a fully grown adult, dad, I think I can say asshole."
"Adult you may be, but fully-grown is pushing it. And I suppose, in this moment, that you might be right, but I suspect all the co-parenting divorcee advice books will suggest not slagging off your ex too much in front of your shared kid."
"Not sure it counts if I'm the one doing the slagging. And I don't consider myself a shared kid. Just your kid. You can just listen disapprovingly while I slag him off, if that helps."
"Sure."
"So that asshole," Peter growled, "was cheating on you for ages, in our house, with some dick ten years younger than him, while you worked hard to support all of us. All of this is his fault. I'm just glad I'm old enough that there won't be a question of custody, because I'm seven thousand percent on your side."
Tony kissed the top of Peter's head. "Thanks, kiddo. I never thought my marriage would have sides -" his eyes prickled with heat "- but you have to know that any sides there are, I'm on yours. You are my everything, and I will do anything I can to protect you and make you happy. Even if that means seeing your papa more than I'd like. If you want to maintain a relationship with him, I understand."
Peter started to say something, indignance written all over his face, and Tony held up a hand, stalling him.
"I know you're mad now, I get it. You have every right to be. He betrayed both of us by doing what he did. But if time tempers things a bit and if you want to spend time with him, I'll understand. He's your papa. I get that it's different."
"I mean, maybe. Sure feels like I was cheated on too," Peter mumbled, eyes dropping to his hands. "So maybe not that different."
"Alright." Tony hugged him again. "Okay. This just sucks and it's going to suck for a bit. And that's just how it goes."
"Yup, guess so." Peter dropped his head to Tony's shoulder. "Hey, would it cheer you up if my friends came up next weekend and stayed over?"
Tony laughed. "Sure. Bring your friends up. It'll be nice to not just be rattling around here on my own."
"Alright."
Tony could tell Pete was hovering. "Go make toktiks with your girlfriend or whatever you kids do these days. I'll be fine."
Peter rolled his eyes. "I know you're saying that wrong on purpose to rile me up."
"If it didn't rile you up, I'd stop."
He shook his head. "Goodnight, Dad! Don't stay up all night wallowing."
"Same to you, kiddo."
But when Peter slipped out the door and left Tony alone, it wasn't wallowing that came to his mind - it wasn't Ty at all. It was Pete's promise to bring his friends up to stay that weekend, which would no doubt include one very particular friend: Steve Rogers.
Tony knew it was wrong, lusting after a guy half his age, only a little older than his son, but god, Steve was something else. For the first time since Tony had met Steve almost a year ago - and nearly walked into a door staring - there wasn't that niggling little feeling of guilt that he shouldn't be having those feelings when he was married.
Well, he wasn't going to be married long, and even though nothing was ever going to happen with Steve, at least this time he could enjoy the eye candy without feeling like he was edging up to cheating on his husband.
Ty was the cheater, and Tony was a free man.
**
"He what?!" Pepper screeched, blowing out the phone's speaker.
Tony leaned away, wincing. "He fucking cheated on me, Pep. And Peter was the one who caught him."
"I'm going to kill him! I'm going to rip that little fucker apart starting with his dick. Peter caught him? For fuck's sake."
"I know." Tony groaned and tipped sideways on the couch. "Pete came home unexpectedly on the weekend while I was in Boston and found Ty and his thirty-year-old piece of ass getting busy on my leather couch."
"Oh, god, Tony. I'm so sorry. How's Peter doing?"
"He's angry right now, but I expect once that fades, the sadness will hit."
Pepper sighed softly. "Just Peter?"
Tony sniffed back the emotion that threatened to spill out. His voice cracked. "I gave him ten years of my life, Pep. I let him be a father to my son. I let him paint the fucking guest room purple."
"It's a really ugly purple," Pepper agreed. "I guess thank god for the prenup?"
"That's my silver lining right now. I kicked him out of the house. He's still living on accounts I filled for him, but at least Jennifer says it'll be pretty cut and dry." Tony tried to will a double of scotch to teleport from the wet bar to his hand without luck.
"Do you want me to come up?"
"Maybe later? During the actual divorce bullshit? Nothing's going to happen for the next few weeks no matter what, but I might need the backup later."
"Of course. Anything you need."
"Pete's going to bring the gang around on the weekend, keep me from drowning in Rocky Road."
"He's a good kid," Pepper said softly. "I'm glad you two have each other."
"Me too," Tony breathed. "Couldn't get through this without him, which feels super selfish since it involves him going through it too. I just wish I could protect him from all of it, you know?"
"He's a grown up now, Tony. He wants to look out for you too. You should let him."
"Yeah, yeah." Tony gave up on trying to develop emergency telekinesis. Maybe he'd just sleep right here on the couch. "I've got a lot of good people."
"You should get some sleep, Tony. But call me if you need anything."
"Alright. Thanks, Pep."
"I love you."
"Love you, too."
Tony hung up and let his phone fall to the floor. His house was finally, blissfully empty. Ty had come by earlier and picked up some of his stuff, but Tony had stayed locked in his workshop until he was gone, figuring if he stole the TV or something, it'd just help Tony's case in divorce court. Then Peter had come by and spent the night, but he needed to go back to school first thing in the morning, so for the first time since everything had happened, Tony was alone.
For the first time, he had no need to hold it all together, and everything fucking sucked.
He and Ty had been a whirlwind romance, started when they were both on vacation in Italy and continued back home. They'd done long distance for two months, and then Ty had packed up and moved from New York to LA, moving into Tony's condo at the time. They'd gotten married six months later, and Ty had said a vow to Peter too, at the wedding.
And for ten years, things had been good. At least, Tony had thought things were good. Ty was a good husband, a good father. He'd never been as close with Peter as Tony was, but Tony had just attributed that to Pete being his flesh and blood and not Ty's. But Ty'd driven him to Little League. He'd showed up for the parent-teacher meetings. He'd held fast on the grounding when Peter had stayed out all night for the first time.
And things had been fine between him and Ty too, hadn't they? The last time Ty had said I love you was four nights ago, the day before Peter had caught him balls deep in some jerk he met at a party. Had he been lying, that night? How long had he been saying the words by rote without meaning them?
Tony's heart clenched painfully. It had been so long since he'd been alone, he couldn't remember how to do it. When Peter was born and his mother left him on Tony's doorstep, Tony had given up on his playboy lifestyle, not just because suddenly, at 21, he was facing the consequences, but because he wanted to do better by his kid.
Falling in love with Ty, getting married, buying a house, it had all felt like Tony was finally doing things right, checking off the boxes, making his mother proud. And now those boxes had to be scribbled out again. Ten years of investment gone.
He'd missed so much. He'd missed his chance to just have fun, to fuck around, to indulge himself. He'd focused on being a good boss, being a good husband, being a good father. He couldn't even really say what being Tony was supposed to feel like. His parent friends had told him everything would change when Peter moved out, that it was Tony's chance to start a new phase of life, but he hadn't, really.
Until now.
Tony rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. If he didn't have to worry about taking care of Peter and he didn't have to give a shit about what Ty wanted or needed, what would he he want? What indulgence had he been ignoring as a married man?
The answer was terrifyingly simple: Steve Rogers.
For the second time since Ty's betrayal had been discovered, Tony found himself thinking about Peter's friend. Steve was two years older than Pete, but only one year further on in his degree, since he'd taken a year off to nurse his mother through terminal cancer. The two had met on the rugby team that Peter had surprised everyone by joining, swapping from baseball which had been his obsession through high school.
Tony had been worried about varsity sports being a toxic environment for his sweet, sensitive kid, but the rugby team had turned out to be the best thing to happen to Peter. The team formed a tight, close-knit friend group that had immediately adopted Peter as one of their own, and among them was Steve, a number 10 and team captain, who had his choice of future as an artist, as a historian, or as a professional athlete.
Or as a pole dancer.
Tony'd never had a particular thing for younger guys - that was more Ty than him. He could occasionally acknowledge that the latest poplet was decently attractive, but it wasn't usually someone half his age turning his head.
To be fair to his preferences, though, not many people had turned his head at all since he married Ty. Tony was a pretty tunnel vision kind of guy, and Ty was a deeply jealous kind of guy, so Tony had just trained himself not to look. He still shouldn't look. There were five hundred reasons why it would be a terrible idea to set his sights on Steve Rogers. Or there had been, and now there were only four hundred and ninety-nine, and god… Tony was worried that might not quite be enough.