Chapter Text
“Alright, Kiddo, Tony said, as he set Peter down on the medical bed. “The suit needs to come off. But don’t worry, Pepper left you some clothes in here.” Smiling just a little, he picked up the stack of soft clothing and moved them within reach. He turned to leave after, but hesitated as he reached the door. “I’ll be right back,” he said, over his shoulder. “Let me know if you need any help with anything.”
He blushed profusely beneath the mask, because he definitely did not need any help getting dressed. A thumbs up was enough to get the message across. Tony walked out of the room and Peter immediately tapped the emblem on his chest triggering the suit to billow out around him. The mask came off next, then he started to work the top portion of the suit off of his body. Thankfully, that part was easy.
Difficulty arose when he had to balance on one leg while painfully peeling the ‘boot’ away from his ankle. He wasn't surprised that it was already discolored and swollen. Tears started to build in his eyes just from looking at it. He discarded the suit onto the floor and pulled the sweatpants on as swiftly and gently as possible. He sat down to deal with the t-shirt and hoodie. He’d just finished up and laid his head onto the pillow when there was a small knock at the door. Without bothering to reopen his eyes, he knocked back on the table beside him. The door creaked open and Tony walked in.
There were a few shuffled footsteps, then he felt a hand in his hair. “Ouch, Buddy. You got clocked in the eye too? Anything else I need to know about?”
Peter, eyes still closed, shook his head and leaned into the comforting touch. He could hear Tony chuckling beside him.
“Well, I brought you an ice pack for the ankle. But how about we plop this one on your face instead. I can go back to the freezer to get another one, hmm?”
Peter nodded. The ice pack was placed on his face. The weight was uncomfortable but the coolness was welcome. He lifted his head, holding the ice in place as Tony moved to the other end of the room and grabbed three pillows from a cabinet. Peter had to grit his teeth as they were tucked beneath his leg.
“Sorry, Kiddo. I know it’s sore,” Tony said softly. “The doctor should be in here soon. You don’t have to worry about your identity or anything. It’s the same one as- before.”
Peter nodded his head. He’d been so focused on the pain, he’d not even considered his identity. He wasn’t surprised that his foster parents had, though. If there was one thing he knew about Tony and Pepper, it was that they would keep him and his secrets safe no matter what. He remembered when the idea of meeting Tony Stark felt surreal. Things had certainly escalated since then. He’d been living in the tower for months and several steps towards the inevitable adoption had already been taken. A tiny twinge of excitement and anxiety shot through him. He was right on the cusp of being Tony and Pepper’s son.
Suddenly, a warm blanket was pulled over his chest, jerking him away from his rampant thoughts. He looked up, Tony was on his way back to the door.
“Relax. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Mere seconds after Tony walked out, Pepper walked in with the doctor behind her. While they both sat down in chairs, he was allowed to remain mostly in his reclined position as the examination began.
A few questions, one embarrassing story, and a couple of x-rays later, Peter was being fitted with a compression bandage and light brace.
“I imagine with your healing factor, you should be doing pretty well by Monday morning. But I want you to keep off of it completely for the next twenty-four hours and leave it wrapped until it’s pain-free.”
More instructions followed for if he wasn’t feeling pain-free by Monday. At that point, Peter wasn’t paying attention. He was tried and he trusted his foster parents to collect all the details. So, he took the opportunity to mentally check out. He stared up at the ceiling, allowing his vision to fuzz in and out, causing the perfect grid of ceiling tiles to blend together. He was right on the verge of falling asleep when his name was said. He blinked slowly toward the voice. The doctor was still talking. Pepper was holding a packet of papers and Tony was looking at him with concern. ‘What?’ he languidly signed.
Tony’s head tilted to the side, as he continued to look him over. A few seconds later, a small smile replaced his apprehension. “The doctor asked you if you wanted some crutches for tonight. I can help you get around if you'd rather but I thought you might like the independence.”
Peter chose the crutches and yawned. He reached up to rub his eyes out of habit, wincing when his finger dragged over the bruised one. For some reason, he was completely exhausted. He didn’t know if the hour, the pain medication or his healing factor was to blame for it. But he was sure he could sleep for two days straight, without waking if his foster parents would allow it.
“You look tired, Sweetheart,” Pepper said, her voice just managing to cut through the sleepy fog. “Let’s get you upstairs and into bed,”
Peter nodded to indicate that she was right and moved to sit up. Tony stepped in to help him. He offered a steady arm as he righted himself and made sure he was stable with the crutches before letting go. Both of his foster parents accompanied him all the way up to his room. Although, he went inside alone. He didn’t need to change his clothes, but he did need to get ready for bed and they were always good about giving him his privacy.
When he finally laid down it was with a deep sigh. He didn’t even bother getting under the covers. He just laid there on his back blinking slowly. Between the ache around his eye and the throbbing of his ankle, he wasn’t prepared to do any more moving around until morning.
A couple of minutes later, an expected knock came at his door. Reluctantly he knocked back to let whoever it was know they could come in. He glanced to the side to see Tony walking in with an armload of pillows. In his tired state, he couldn’t fathom what they were for. He sent his foster father a quizzical look.
“Elevation,” Tony provided and that made sense. Peter nodded his head and shifted slightly to accommodate.
“Tomorrow, when you're in less pain and not so exhausted, we’re going to revisit that whole hand to hand combat and first aid training we discussed way back when,” Tony said while pulling an extra blanket out of the closet. Apparently sleeping without one wasn’t going to be acceptable.
“We probably should have already”
Suddenly, Peter was feeling much more awake and somewhat indignant. He’d not screwed up the fight. Okay, he did take a pretty good hit to the face. But the sprained ankle? That was just crappy dumb luck. He grabbed his phone from where he’d set it on his bedside table. ‘No amount of training is going to fix the New York City sidewalks.’
Tony chuckled. “Maybe not. But this was a good reminder that we need to get it done. If nothing else, it could have potentially saved you that black eye, you’ve got going on there.”
Unwilling to choose that particular battle, Peter curtly nodded his head. It wasn’t worth the fight. ‘Fine. I’ll do it. Whatever,’ he texted.
“Good man,” Tony said, while vigorously ruffling Peter’s hair. “Goodnight, Kiddo. Sleep tight.”
“G’night,” Peter whispered back as Tony flipped the lamp off. The room went dark and Peter fell asleep nearly instantly.
A week later, after being deemed fully healed with no other complications, Peter was walking into the tower’s large open gym. The ceilings were high and the room was long with multiple exits. Along the back wall were three changing rooms; one for men, one for women, and a single set aside for anyone who felt compelled to use it. He wished he was there to take advantage of the rock wall. He liked the rock-wall. But, as it were, that was not the case.
Training had been discussed as promised. He’d not had a lot of say in it. But somehow it had been decided that some fundamental boxing lessons would be a good place to start. He side-eyed the punching bag and roped-off ring at the end of the room and sent Tony yet another pleading look.
Tony sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “Really, kid? How about you cool it with the puppy dog eyes.” A silent beat passed. “I don’t even understand what your hang up is with this.”
Honestly, Peter didn’t either. It wasn’t like he was being asked to perform any sort of difficult task. He just didn’t have any interest in boxing, in general. More so, he wasn’t really sure how learning to box was going to help him when he was out on patrol. He pulled out his phone to argue, but Tony must have read his mind.
“This’ll be good for learning some hand to hand basics, Bud. Balance, stance, blocking, learning to recognize a good offensive opening; that kind of stuff.” He gently squeezed Peter’s shoulder and smirked. “No one’s expecting Spider-Man to swing around wearing boxing gloves. Besides, you like Happy. He’ll go easy on you.”
Peter glared and started typing. ‘I don’t need him to go easy on me. If anything I need to go easy on him,’ he texted. He was enhanced. Holding his own against a singular unarmed, standard-issue person was nothing. ‘Super-strength. Remember?’
Tony hummed. “Sure thing, Kiddo," he said, as he gently ran his thumb over the place where the worst of his facial bruising had already healed. Without hesitation, Peter batted his hand away.
Not long after, Happy walked in, already wearing a conglomeration of foam panning. Peter frowned and offered up one last beseeching look. It didn’t do any good. Tony simply chuckled and sat down in one of the chairs set up in the corner of the room.
With a huff, Peter dropped his phone onto the adjacent table and followed Happy into the ring. At first, all they did was go over a handful of things. Happy talked on and on about the rules, good form, and ‘dirty boxing.’ The use of light contact for practice was discussed next. Peter nodded along, content that they wouldn’t actually be fighting. As well practiced as he was with pulling his punches, he didn’t like the idea of accidentally hurting Happy.
After what felt like hours’ worth of verbal instruction, Happy fitted him with head protection and handed him a simple mouth guard. It felt highly excessive considering they weren’t supposed to be doing anything more than tapping each other. But Happy repeatedly insisted that safety was key and Peter didn’t care to argue.
Soft Fabric was looped around his hands next. That was followed up with a pair of plain red boxing gloves. Peter held his hands out, not thinking anything of it as Happy adjusted them. They weren’t uncomfortable. He could wiggle his fingers ever so slightly and they were just tight enough around his wrists that they didn’t slip when he shook his hands.
Happy nodded in satisfaction. “How’s that? All good?”
Peter nodded his head and lifted his hands with the intention of signing ‘good.’ But the gloves prevented him from doing so. His lip went between his teeth. He didn’t like not being able to sign, but there was always his phone. He looked across the room and considered hopping the ropes to go get it. However, he abruptly realized that even with it in his possession, he wouldn’t be able to actually use it. His hands were literally tied. He couldn’t sign, type, write or even point his finger. For him, the gloves may as well have been a gag and he started to panic.
As he stared down at his useless hands, Peter's breathing sped up. His heart pounded in his chest and all of the blood rushed to his head. Without any further thought or evaluation, he frantically pawed at the Velcro straps. In his harried state, he didn’t have the dexterity to actually free himself. He moved faster, knocking the gloves together and shaking them to no avail. He was trapped. He was completely trapped with no way to comfortably communicate. He spat out the mouth guard. There were words right at the tip of his tongue, a distraught cry for help. But the stress of the situation had his voice locked up tight.
He felt a hand grab his elbow and violently pulled away. He heard his name being called several times. He didn’t respond. The entirety of his focus was on freeing himself from the restrictive bindings. More words followed but it was as though they were coming from under the water. He heard them. He understood them. But he was entirely too panicked to really process them.
“Hey, boss! I need you to get over here!” Happy shouted. There was a distinct edge to his voice that Peter didn’t have time to place.
Footsteps thundered through the room. He could hear his foster father ask what had happened. Happy’s answer drifted in and out of the background noise that was building in his head; something about him freaking out.
Suddenly a pair of hands were gripping both of his biceps, making him feel even more trapped than before. He scrambled away, padded hands swinging. Inadvertently, he backed himself into a corner. He squeezed his eyes closed and kept swinging. He made particle contact with something, he didn’t know what. There was a quiet curse, followed by several much louder words.
“Pete!” he heard Tony shout and opened his eyes. His foster father was standing less than two feet away from him, his hands held up in surrender. “Easy, buddy. It’s me. Same side. Same side!”
The message started to register and in any other situation, they would have been comforting. But his preferred means of language was still being restricted. A high-pitched whine escaped his lips. Beyond that, he didn’t even attempt to respond. Instead, he went right back to his ineffectual attempts to remove the gloves.
“If you want them off, you’ve got to let me get a hold of them, Pete. I can help you get them off.”
He looked up again, allowing the words to slowly seep in. Tony beckoned him forward with promises of freedom. He accepted the offer for assistance and outstretched his shaky arms. Seconds later, he was released from his constraints. The head piece came off too. He looked at his fingers, flexing them several times before choking on an unexpected sob.
“Come here, baby,” Tony offered, and Peter fell into his arms.
With Tony’s warm embrace, Peter was able to pull back the tears. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose. The familiar smell of aftershave filled his nostrils. He relaxed significantly and tried to focus on the sound of Tony’s breathing. He used it as a guide, taking one soft inhale after another until they were nearly synced. Then and only then did he finally let go of his lifeline.
“What happened, Bud?” Tony asked while running his thumb across one of Peter’s tear-damp cheeks. Claustrophobic?”
Peter, grateful for the use of his hands, signed, ‘No signs. No phone,’ and after some thought, ‘afraid. ’ He wasn’t completely certain he’d fully encompassed the complexity of his reaction. He wished he knew more signs. He wished they all knew more signs. Tears started to prick his eyes again. Immediately, he reached up to wipe them away
Tony grabbed both sides of Peter’s face and leaned in until their foreheads touched. “Oh, kid.”
Once they had separated, Happy approached. His brows were furrowed and his face was clenched with obvious remorse. “I’m so sorry, Peter. That didn’t even occur to me.”
Shivering lightly, Peter sighed ‘Okay.’ The aftermath of the panic attack had left him feeling chilled and exposed. He automatically leaned back into Tony.
“You were panicking, buddy,“ Tony said, swiping the fringe of Peter’s bangs off of his forehead. “There’s nothing okay about that,”
‘Sorry,’ Peter sighed, still nestled fairly tightly up against Tony’s chest. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and signed, ‘know.’
“You didn’t know?” Tony asked, perplexed. Once Peter had confirmed, he further questioned, “Didn’t know what?”
Without his phone handy Peter was unsure about how to appropriately answer the question. He toyed with the hem of his t-shirt and shook his head. The lack of an answer was apparently not going to slide. He felt Tony placed a finger under his chin as he gently repeated the question.
Peter took in a deep breath and pointed to the gloves. Tony’s eyes followed his movements as he clamped his hands together so tightly his knuckles turned white. When he released them, he brought one up to his chest and patted rapidly over his heart. After a few seconds, he reluctantly repeated the sign for ‘afraid.’
There was no immediate reply. Peter looked up to see Tony’s face pinched with thought. He couldn’t decide if his foster father was bothered by the a response, or simply hadn’t been able to decipher it. He looked over his shoulder toward his phone, wondering if he should walk away to retrieve it.
At that same moment, Tony’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “You didn’t know the gloves would make you panic.” It was said as a statement, not a question. As though he was certain, without a doubt, that he’d correctly interrupted all the random gestures.
Or course, he had . And Peter was grateful that no other explanation would be required. He swallowed hard and slowly nodded his head.
Tony smiled tightly and placed one of his hands on either one of Peter’s shoulders. “I hear you, bud. But even though you didn’t know, I should have considered it. I know how important it is for you to have use of your hands. It’s my job as your- Parent to think about those kinds of things. We could have made different arrangements or used different equipment. That’s on me.”
Peter pulled his lip between his teeth and thought about the implications of Tony’s words. It was okay that there were things he didn’t yet know about himself. For the first time in years, he had parents who were willing and ready to take his side, look out for him and guide him.
The sound of the gym door swinging open pulled him from his thoughts. He looked to the side, Tony and Happy both following suit. Pepper was standing there, a concerned expression spread across her face. She walked towards them, carefully climbing over the ropes that surrounded the ring.
“Is everything okay?” she asked. “FRIDAY sent me an alert saying Peter was in distress.”
In complete contrast to his most recent thoughts, Peter felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He’d gotten himself so worked up that the ever vigilant AI had decided that Tony and Happy weren’t enough. She’d called Pepper into the room as well. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks, his gaze turned downward as a result. He hadn’t meant to cause such a scene. He clamped his lips together. He wasn’t prepared to explain everything all over again. Tony, as he so often did, understood and addressed Pepper himself.
“We had a bit of an issue with the standard boxing gloves. Triggered a panic attack. But we got it under control, right, buddy?”
Peter nodded sheepishly, and Tony went into more detail. As he spoke, Happy walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Tony moved in naturally to do the same, successfully sandwiching him between their bodies.
Casually, Peter leaned into Tony’s side, listening with limited interest as everything was fully discussed. At some point, Pepper approached him, ran her hand down the side of his face, and smiled.
“He looks exhausted, Tony,” she said just barely above a whisper. “Please tell me you’re going to call it a day. Right?”
“Of course,” Tony replied, sounding as if he was a little miffed that she’d felt the need to ask. Peter laughed quietly, prompting Tony to turn in his direction. He rocked back on his heels and tucked his hands neatly behind his back. “Just so you know, next time we do this, I promise I’ll do a much better job of making sure you’re comfortable and able to communicate.”
“I’ll look into getting you some fingerless sparring gloves,” Happy Swiftly added. “That should help. If it doesn't I’ll keep looking until we find something that does.”
Grateful for the abundance of understanding, Peter nodded. He peeked at Pepper, noting that she didn’t look all that that convinced by the offers. ‘I’m okay,’ he signed. ‘promise.’
Hesitantly, Pepper looked between everyone in the room and sighed. “Just- no rushing back into anything, okay?”
Tony took a half step back and conceded. A look of seriousness took over his features as he shook his head and exposed his palms. “Nope. No rushing. Right, Hap?”
“No rushing,” Happy agreed without missing a beat. Peter held back a smile as he too defensively raised his hands.
“Good,” Pepper firmly yet smilingly replied. He reached out to Peter, taking his hand and giving it a soft squeeze. “What about you? Ready to get out of here?”
Peter squeezed her hand back and nodded his head. He knew the next several weeks would undoubtedly be filled with more bouts of specifically tailored training. He understood why and was prepared to participate without any further protests. But at that moment, all he could think about was going home with his family.