One Shot Collection

Please, stop - Starker

Tony smiles. It's a beautiful morning. A perfect morning to make up some excuse to get out of the castle and sneak down to the little hut down by the lake.

He picks up his bright red tunic, knowing it's Peter's favourite, and gets dressed, hooking his sword in place and taking the stairs two at a time to get out before his father manages to hunt him down and force him to practice archery or meet up with the tailor to get his attire for the ball tried on. 

He nods to Clint and Steve where they're standing in the courtyard, chatting about whatever. They wave and smile knowingly back at him as he sprints over to the stables. 

*
The tiny hut is glowing in the morning sun, bathing in the glittering reflection from the river. 

Peter is standing barefoot on a rock out on the water, eyes closed and face tilted towards the sky. He looks beautiful like this. His light tunic sways in the breeze. He's so peaceful, and Tony silently climbs down from his horse and settles in the grass, content to just watch his lover for a minute.

If Tony didn't know better, he'd think Peter wasn't aware of his presence. But even if Peter is standing completely still, like a statue for all the creatures of the forest to worship, nothing escapes his watchful body. 

Peter knows everything going on around him, both in the past, present and future. He hears every whisper of the wind, every important creak from the crickets hiding in the grass, every hiss of the snakes and all the gossip travelling through the leaves as they rustle around them.

Peter knows all. Like a spider he has created a delicate web around the forest, feeling every little string vibrate underneath his bare toes.

Peter turns his head slightly, opening his big, doe eyes and beaming at Tony where he's sitting. Tony just about melts where he's situated in the dewey grass.

"Good morning, your majesty." He says, his voice so soft and melodic, making Tony's heart skip a beat. 

"Good morning, Culver." Peter steps gracefully down from the rock and walks through the gentle stream without disturbing the steady flow. It never fails to surprise the prince how his young lover can defy every law of nature. 

"Did the night treat you well?" Peter kneels in front of him, smiling softly and cupping his cheeks. Tony doesn’t remember sleeping at all, but he suspects maybe Peter had a hand in it, making sure the nightmares stayed away. 

“Yes,” is all he says, not that he needs to say a lot. Peter has a way of reading him that doesn’t include words. Somehow always knowing what he needs and what he wants. And he’s always there to make it happen and take care of any struggle he might have.

“I’m glad.” His soft hand finds its way to Tony’s raven black hair, combing it gently, and leaning his divine face closer. Tony can feel the warm breath leaving the perfect, pink lips on his own, and it’s so soft, his mouth is like the softest silk, moving in perfect symphony with his own.

It’s nothing wild or desperate like the frantic kisses seen in the tavern in town; it’s magical, safe, home. Tony loves it. He loves Peter. He knows this. Has known for a long time. In a perfect world, Peter would share Tony’s quarters, sit by his throne, rule the kingdom alongside him.

But it’s not a perfect world. And it’s the only dream Tony has, that Peter can’t do anything with. It’s not because he doesn’t want to. Tony doesn’t doubt that the love is returned. But Peter can’t change the minds and ideas of the whole world. Witches and Warlocks have been hunted down and killed for centuries. 

If his father ever suspected anything, Peter would be executed. Murdered for keeping the woods and nature in perfect shape, helping the animals thrive and making sure there’s plenty enough for hunting season. Keeping the berry bushes and fruit trees growing and luring the fish down the river every spring.