Work Text:
“So, you’re proposing,” Tony said flatly.
“I–I, um…” Peter faltered. It hadn’t been a question, and Tony sure as hell didn't sound happy about it.
Peter searched his expression. Tony’s gaze was fixed on the hot-air balloon anchored ahead of them, silhouetted against the twilight. His face was blank, hands unnaturally still as he rocked on his heels.
Rocked in that subtle, telling way Peter knew well.
Abort. Abort.
“Psh. No way. W–What gave you that idea?”
Tony’s eyes drifted to the candlelit table set for two. One brow rose.
“Okay,” Peter scrambled, “so I went all out for our anniversary. A standalone event. Why can’t people just let that be its own thing? People should celebrate what they have, not escalate. Besides, anniversary proposals are way over done.”
Peter cut himself off. At least the staff had made themselves scarce, limiting the number of witnesses to his latest crash-out.
Well, to the verbal part. The crowd along the edge of Tuileries Garden had a ringside view to everything else. A dozen phones stretched above the barriers, zooming in on a moment Peter already wanted to forget.
Because, yeah. Not only had he decided to pull this stunt in public, he’d picked Paris.
Paris — the city of lovers and, apparently, colossal idiots.
“This would be a pretty public space to risk it all,” Tony said, echoing his thoughts.
Peter’s heart crawled into his throat. He swallowed it down. “Totally. Way too much pressure.”
Tony gave a slight nod. He still wasn’t looking at Peter, but the rocking stopped. Maybe this could be salvaged.
“Five years is a significant milestone. Given our line of work, it’s an outlier we're alive to see it.”
“Almost impossible, statistically.”
“You must’ve been thrilled when the board picked Paris for StarkExpo. Perfect excuse.”
Perfect waste of favors. “Sure was.”
“How far in advance did you have to book this place? Four months?”
“Ten.”
“Even using my name?”
“… Yeah?”
Tony tsked. “I’ll have to speak with the mayor.”
He fell silent as the burner roared, a fresh burst of flames filling the envelope. Red-and-gold panels glowed bright against the last streaks of sunset; Peter had it custom-made.
“The balloon’s a nice idea. Clever parallels. First human flight. Lines keeping it grounded but free.”
Peter couldn’t help himself. “Not to mention its role in the discovery of—”
“Cosmic rays. Obviously.” Tony peered up. “What’s the air clearance?”
“One-twenty?”
“Respectable. Should be a good view.” Tony’s attention shifted outward, cataloguing the rest of the tableau — the candlelit paths, ornate floral arrangements and discrete staff. Peter could hear the gears clicking. “Still — I’m surprised, given how camera-shy you are. Most people only go this hard for a big reveal.” He frowned, then gave Peter a quick once-over. “We’re not pregnant, are we?”
“What— no. How would that even—”
“Just covering my bases,” Tony said, already moving on. “The anniversary would make a good cover story. Start with a flight over the city — a bit extra, but low stakes — then ramp up the romance. We brought a full squadron of ARGO show-drones for the expo. Useless for surveillance, but they put on a hell of an air show.”
“Huh.”
“It could start casual. Avengers-themed. Thor’s hammer cracking thunder, Fury’s head coming out of a flerken. Crazy shit to keep it light, keep us laughing, as the drones start to form— what are the kids calling us?”
Peter stared at his shoes. “… Ironspider.”
“Form Ironspider patterns. Webs weaving an arc reactor. Proof of who remade Tony Stark’s heart.”
“Too obvious?”
“Right on the nose.” Tony studied the sky, as if picturing it. “Once the drones align with the Eiffel Tower, the music fades and the lights dim. All pretense falling away, leaving us alone. In the silence. In the middle of the sky.”
A beat. Neither of them breathed.
“... That’s when someone might get down on one knee.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Tony shook his head, breaking the moment. Peter exhaled.
“Assuming a yes, fireworks would start at the Louvre.” He pointed. “Then Invalides," continuing the blocking, “ending at the Eiffel Tower. It’s a cliché for a reason. Drone cameras could cut it together for the wedding announcement.”
Peter hadn't thought about footage.
“Then back down for champagne while the crowd snaps pics of the ring. There would be a ring, right?”
“I–In this totally hypothetical proposal that’s not happening?” Peter’s voice came out thin. “I guess. Two.”
“It’d be trending before we could tell anyone.”
“Probably.”
“The internet would have opinions. A few might call us romantic, but most would brand us attention-seeking assholes. Hijacking the city for a PDA in front of the Eiffel Tower? That’s weaponized cringe.”
Peter sighed. He’d think of something else.
“Yeah. Definitely not my style.”
“No, it’s not.” Tony finally turned, meeting Peter’s gaze. Eyes alight. Cheeks flushed. “It’s exactly mine.”
Oh.
As relief surged, Peter’s nerves twisted into a new shape.
This is it, Parker.
“Okay, cool. Cause—” Peter swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “—that was kinda what I was going for.”
Then Peter was off his feet, spinning in Tony’s arms, and he didn't care about cliché. When he landed, Tony pulled him into a kiss that felt like a promise. Like they were on exactly the same page.
Tony eased back, pressing kisses across Peter’s face, murmuring, “you’re incredible,” “you’re crazy,” “you're never getting rid of me.” His lips drifted lower and Peter nearly forgot about their audience, but not—
“Hold up. Was that a yes?”
“Didn’t I say that?”
“Um, no?” Peter paused, then gestured broadly. “Should we still do the whole…?”
Tony wet his lips, hands tensing at Peter’s waist. Something raw flickered across his face. Something Peter wanted to protect.
“I...” Tony cleared his throat. “I’d be alright with that.”
“Awesome.” Peter took his hand, tugging him gently toward the balloon. “Cause I’ve got a sick ring reveal planned. Can’t believe you skipped that.”
Tony grinned, letting himself be led.
“You always keep me on my toes.”