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Tony pulled out his bourbon, the good stuff because Tony didn't drink shitty liquor. Peter bit his lip.
"Since when does Netflix and Chill involve more than sipping wine and binging chocolate?" Peter teased to try and mask the racing of his heart.
Tony smirked, pouring shots into fancy crystal glasses.
"Since you decided to Netflix and Chill with Tony Stark, kid. I don't half-ass anything."
Peter rolled his eyes.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you just want to get me drunk, Mr. Stark."
"Mm, well, if you're gonna drink, I'd rather you drink with me."
"And why's that?" Peter asked, his eyes sparkling.
"Because that way, I know you're safe and not getting roofied at some high school party. Besides, you're an Avenger now, kid. I can't have you going around drinking warm beer from a can and then drunkenly telling everyone your secret identity."
Peter shook his head, giggling and grabbing the glass when Tony offered it to him.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Stark."
They both knew why Tony liked to get Peter drunk, and it wasn't to creepily feel up the boy or take advantage of him in a vulnerable state. Well, that's not entirely true. Tony fully planned to take advantage of just how cuddly Peter got when he was drunk, but he wasn't gonna touch him.
Peter was still only a boy, a sophomore in high school. But they'd done this dance countless times before, carefully walking the line between just appropriate enough to not be entirely inappropriate. And if they pushed the line a little bit, allowing Tony to drink with his mentee and hold him close, then that was their business and no one else's.
Just as he knew would happen, halfway through the movie, Peter ended up curled up into his side, and by the end of the movie, he was passed out, drooling on Tony's shoulder with a leg thrown over his lap. It was perfect, and Tony stayed like that for a long time, just reveling in the privilege of holding the boy near.
Eventually, he had to relent, scooping Peter up and tucking him into the guest room. And if he lingered longer than necessary, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through Peter's curls, that was no one's business but his own.