The Peter Whump Dump Series

A Major Party Foul

A/N: Here's the irondad fic I was talking about a few days ago! I had actually written this story in early 2018, but I'm just getting around to posting it here 😅 I hope y'all enjoy and please don't hesitate to tell me what you think! 🥰

**MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF ATTEMPTED RAPE AND NON-CON**

Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

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It's the loud music that's really starting to give Peter a headache.

The swell of the bass dips down for a second, rattling the half full glasses of champagne and shaking the polished floor of the hotel's ballroom. From his view outside, the teenager watches as people dance, their expensive jewelry and tailored clothes glowing in the pockets of light. 

Looking quickly behind him, Peter lets out a small sigh of relief as he catches sight of his dad making his way over, the man's suit coat ruffling up in the slight breeze.

Shuffling from foot-to-foot, Peter tries to resist the urge to run a nervous hand through his hair, knowing that Tony would have a fit if the gell got on his clothes.

"Alright Pete, I'm just gonna talk for a little while, mingle with the crowd and what not." Tony begins once he climbs the carpeted steps, looking at the reflective screen of his wristwatch. "Maybe answer a few questions and—"

Suddenly he stops talking, looking Peter over in a way that makes the teen feel slightly overwhelmed. Glancing down at the swirls of color decorating the floor, he nearly flinches in alarm when Tony's warm hand settles on his shoulder. The genius's other hand comes up to cup the boy's chin, tilting his head up and forcing their eyes to meet.

"I know that doing stuff like this makes you nervous, kiddo," his father says softly, dark eyes shining, "but I'm going to be keeping an eye on you the whole time."

Peter forces himself to nod, shoving away the right coil of anxiety he can feel rolling his gut. He leans into his father's touch for just a second, taking strength from the man's comforting presence. Tony just watches him with soft eyes, pressing a kiss against the top of his head.

"I'm okay." Peter says, pulling away and grabbing the door handle, the metal cool against his sweaty palm. "We can go in now, I promise."

Tony studies him for a minute, and Peter smiles, trying in vain to make it not look as forced as it feels. Finally, the billionaire sighs, laying an arm across his son's shoulders and pushes the door open with his other.

The sound of the music becomes suddenly louder, swelling above the chatter of people and the clanking of glasses. Tony, after flashing Peter one last small, genuine smile, immediately raises a hand in greeting as a handful of information hungry journalists and power crazy politicians rampage over. 

They all begin to talk at once, shaking Tony's hand and thankfully completely ignoring Peter as he silently scoots around them.

So much for being with me.

Wrapping his arms around his middle, the teen flinches slightly as the noise becomes increasingly louder, his dad's fake laugh and toothy grin rising above the rest as he glances back. He seems to be ready to come over there, to check on his son, but Peter shoots him a small smile once more.

Then the crowd of people close around him and he is lost to Peter.

Shaking his head, Peter looks around, zeroing in on a darker corner couch, the only other occupant being a young man a little older than the teenager. Twisting his fingers together, the young Stark walks warily over, the hum of his anxiety constant. Huffing out a small breath, Peter sits on the edge of the couch, the cold leather making him shiver. He casts a quick glance at the other boy, looking away when their eyes almost meet.