Work Text:
"Hi! Welcome!"
The wall bell chimed sweetly as the wooden door pushed open. Peter shifted his gaze from the dripping wet plate in his hands, to the new comer in the donut shop. A professional smile bloomed across his face as he greeted.
The floor-to-ceiling window reflected the warm sunlight, orange glow casting around the new guest like a divine halo. For a moment, they looked like a holy angel, radiant and ethereal, secretly talking Peter's breath away.
Even if Peter didn’t pay much attention to current events or celebrity news, how could he possibly not recognize the man standing before him as the Tony Stark—owner of Stark Industries?
Or perhaps, he was a fallen angel, like Lucifer, returning with reclaimed glory, standing once again in his Father’s beloved human world. With that tender yet intimating radiance, making everyone on Earth submit to his beauty and charm—earning their devotion, and perhaps, a chance to return to heaven.
Either way, he was someone whose brilliance and brightness made it impossible to look away. And Peter—who is he to try?
He gently set the plate down on the counter and quickly walked to stand behind the register. The guest was already walking toward the display case, removing his sunglasses and casually hooking them to the edge of his coat pocket. In that instant, his eyes were filled only with the beautiful donuts—each one as exquisite and tempting as a blown-up diamond ring, calling out to his hunger.
“Hiya! How can I help you today?”
Peter watched the sparkle in the man’s eyes as he admired Peter’s creations, and a surge of pride filled his chest. Soon, that gleam shifted as the man turned to look at Peter, drawn by the sound of his voice.
The sparkle in his eyes remained.
What Tony saw was a young man, probably no older than 22. The long sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to the elbows for convenience, revealing strong forearms. After a quick scan, Tony’s lips curled into a smile.
“Hey! Let me guess—you’re the manager?” Tony chuckled, pointing at the name tag pinned to Peter’s apron.
Peter flushed. “Uh… yeah, technically. But the name tag’s just a prank from a friend.” Tony seemed to understand, nodding knowingly.
“Everyone’s got friends who like to mess with them. No harm done. Actually, I think it’s nice—subtly showing off to everyone without saying a word. Cute. Very you,” Tony said, winking playfully.
In that moment, it felt like Cupid had finally found Peter—and didn’t hesitate to shoot him right in the heart.
---
From then on, every Sunday fcomes like clockwork, Tony would appear at the entrance of Parker’s bakery. Whether it was intentional or just coincidence, it always happened during a time when the shop wasn’t too busy—offering them more uninterrupted moments together. On a Sunday, of all days. Miracle and destined.
Since Tony’s first visit, which was like two months, just like that. With each visit, Tony would try a new flavor, always paired with a drink Peter personally recommended—somehow never failed to excite him. And Peter, in turn, would work hard to make sure Tony never left disappointed, often crafting a brand-new flavor each week just for him.
What Tony didn’t know was: those special flavors were only ever made and sold on the days he came by.
In those short encounters, the two of them had shared a surprising amount of personal insight—life lessons they’d picked up along the way. In return, Peter would share amusing teas from work or school. Whenever the shop was quiet, Tony would perch on the high stool that had magically appeared in front of the counter just for him, while Peter remained behind the counter—enjoying the day’s new creation while swimming in the ocean of words.
Within the broadest bounds of friendship, they flirted and teased each other shamelessly.
Peter never told Tony that every day without him felt a little less bright—that he found himself constantly wishing the next Sunday would arrive sooner. And Tony never told Peter that the real reason he kept coming back was never the donuts.