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Peter’s staring at him. Has been staring at him for the entire afternoon, off and on, always jerking his eyes away whenever Tony turns to look at him. He probably thinks he’s being subtle about it.
He’s not.
“What?” Tony finally asks, after the fourth or fifth time. “Do I have something on my face?”
Peter jumps, and flushes, and turns to look back down at the disassembled webshooters in front of him.
“Nothing! No! Sorry!” he says.
There’s a pause. Peter fiddles with a mechanism on the webshooter.
“It’s just… Mr. Stark, are you going grey?”
Tony blinks.
“Kid, I’ve been going grey for a decade,” he says. “Why do you think I dye my hair?”
“You dye your hair?”
“…Yes?” Tony says, slightly baffled. “What, you think I’m not vain enough for it, is that it? Because I hate to break it to you, but I absolutely am.”
“No! I mean – yes – I mean, uh, it’s not-” Peter stutters, adorably flustered. He looks vaguely like his entire world has been upended. “Just. The beard, too?”
“Yep, but it’s a pain in the ass. So I figured…” he waves vaguely in the direction of his own head, where he’s finally started letting the graying roots grow in. Not like he's really fooling anyone, anymore. Or at least he thought he wasn't. “But if it’s that much of a horrible shock, I’ll have FRIDAY start booking the stylist again.”
Peter flushes even harder and doesn’t say anything. He starts chewing on the bottom of his pen.
“No,” he says, after a moment. “Uh. It looks… nice.” His eyes flick over towards Tony and then away, guiltily.
Oh. Huh.
Tony feels himself smiling, a little incredulous. So the silver fox look really does it for Peter, does it?
“Well, in that case, I’ll have to keep it,” he muses. And then- he really shouldn’t, but- “Just for you.”
Peter ducks his head, studiously looking at the project in front of him, but Tony can see the embarrassed, pleased smile creep across his face.
Yep. Tony’s definitely keeping the grey.