Pointe Shoes and Spider Webs

84. Swanilda

Daphne tucks a strand of Peter's hair behind his ear and smiles at him.
"You look really good in a suit." Peter had taken an incredibly quick shower and just as he got dressed, the intermission started. Daphne fixed his tie and let her hand linger on his chest. His hand creeps up to grab hers in his own and he rubs slow circles on it with his thumb.
"I... don't really like wearing suits," he admits. "Reminds me of funerals." Daphne nods, understanding what he means with that.
"Sorry," she mumbles. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it gently.
"No reason for you to be sorry." He closes his eyes and sighs quietly. "Just gotta wear a suit more often, I guess... Maybe that'll change how I feel about them."

Daphne's free hand finds its way up to cup his cheek.
"I'll give you all the positive reasons to wear a suit," she says quietly. Peter stares at her and blinks a few times. Daphne's eyes go wide and she lets go of him, stepping backwards, scrambling to collect herself, as she realizes how her words could be interpreted. "I- I didn't mean it like that, fuck, we only met a few months ago, I'm not thinking about marriage!" She hides her face in her hands and she hears Peter's laugh echoing through the dressing room. She feels him moving closer to her and his hands remove hers from her face. She's red as a tomato and looks at her feet. Peter bends his knees slightly and cocks his head, trying to get her to look at him.

"What other positive reasons are there to wear a suit?" he asks with a mischievous smile. Daphne scoffs and still doesn't look at him.
"My performances," she replies shyly. He chuckles as he pulls her closer to him with a slight tug at her hands. "Can't wear sweats to a theater, Pete" she says with a slight smile.
"When you're with a big ballet company, I'll come watch all of your performances, Dove," he mutters. "In a suit." It's Daphne's turn to laugh.
"You'd get fed up with seeing the same performance every night."
"Not if you're in it." He wiggles his eyebrows, making Daphne snort as she embraces him.
"Kiss ass," she says quickly, grinning. She pushes herself away from him and cheekily steps up on her pointes, bringing her to equal height with Peter. She presses a quick peck on his lips. "Let's get you to your seat."

...

"There he iiiis!" May prances towards Peter with a wide smile on her face. "That's my nephew!" She points at Peter as he approaches her awkwardly in the foyer. He scratches the back of his head, obviously embarrassed at his aunt's remark. May jumps in to hug him and she can't contain her excitement.
"Hi, May," he laughs, glancing at the door that leads backstage. May pushes Peter away from her and squeezes his shoulders.
"You looked absolutely stunning on stage! Daphne looked like she was floating! Gaaah, I'm so proud!" May jogs in place, her fancy gown sparkling with every move she makes.

"Hey, kid." Peter freezes when he hears the voice of his mentor right behind him. He slowly turns around with a sheepish look on his face. Tony looks like one would expect. Expensive; a tailored suit, Italian shoes, Rolex on his wrist. The whole shebang. He even smells expensive. Peter's not really used to seeing him like this anymore, but situations like this remind him of Tony's status.
"Mr. Stark! Hi!" He straightens his back and swallows. All eyes in the foyer are suddenly on them, the rumbling of voices speaking softly dies down. Tony Stark is talking to his protege and everyone wants to hear it. It's common news that Peter interns for Tony's company, but this is the first time they're in the same place in public. Tony smiles with his lips pressed on top of each other, one corner of his mouth curling all the way up. He wiggles his eyebrows once and nods, cocking his head.
"Good job, Peter."
"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter says with a shy nod. Tony notices Peter's discomfort and turns to the other people in the foyer.
"Weren't you having conversations of your own?" he asks sassily, cocking one eyebrow. The well-dressed crowd hastily turns back to their own groups, the white noise of voices continuing again. Tony takes a step forward to stand next to Peter, so May is included again. His hand rests on Peter's shoulder.
"Mrs. Parker, I couldn't find you before the performance," Tony courts. May defensively raises her hands in front of her and laughs.
"I may or may not have run a little late."