Chapter Text
Waiting for her to come home is agony. He’s scratching as hard as he can at his palms, watching it heal when he deliberately does it too hard. He gets away with it for a good half hour, drawing lines and lines before Tony takes his wrist, which he surprisingly doesn’t see coming.
They look at each other for no more than a few seconds, and he lets go quickly.
He pulls back instinctively, then looks away. Doesn’t meet Mr Stark’s eyes and moves on to scrunching up his fists instead.
May comes home a little while later. It’s a record. She’s usually not that fast, though he guesses she’s never had to be. Not like this.
He hears the front door open, and they both look up as she walks in, a little too fast.
“Tony—Peter,” she looks to them both, almost out of breath, as she sets down her things haphazardly on the drawer. “I don’t—am I missing something?” She asks, genuinely confused as she looks around, eyes stopping on the glass.
She looks up again. “Did someone break in?” she asks, squinting at the mess. “Peter, what’s wrong?” she’s smiling nervously. “Did you guys have a . . . fight?”
Tony looks around and then shakes his head with a soft sigh. “No, and no one broke in,” he explains, then looks to Peter, clearly confused himself with how to proceed. “You go—go to your room.”
Peter doesn’t object. In fact, he’d like nothing more than to not be here.
He closes the door behind him, and almost curses in rage when it bounces back open. He slowly pushes it again, kicking a sock under it to stop it from doing that.
He doesn’t know what he’s trying to hide. Closing the door doesn’t block out the conversation getting started outside, and it definitely doesn’t stop anyone from coming inside.
He tells himself not to be so mad, because this is, after all, his fault. The anger towards May is irrational because she tried and he didn’t reciprocate.
He tries hard not to listen. Really, really hard. But he can’t do it. He starts scratching at his hands, waiting to hear her reaction that never actually comes. He hears her heartbeat get faster and faster, and a gasp. He can see her face in his mind, upset and riddled and maybe a little angry.
“What do I do?” she finally asks in a whisper, and then he really blocks them out.
Why didn’t he tell her? Why didn’t he tell her when she asked? She’ll probably ask him that, and he should have an answer ready but it still won’t come to him.
The door opens a few minutes after that, and she staggers when the sock scrapes between the door and carpet. She pushes it open with a little more force and walks till she’s standing in front of him. Well, over him.
He moves to stand up, but she puts one hand on his shoulder, the other cupping his cheek. He can’t tell what she’s thinking. Her eyes are wide, filled with tears. Her face is worried as she studies him carefully.
Sighing shakily and unclenching his fists, he breaks the gaze first. “May—”
She wraps her arms around him, just like Mr Stark had done. She holds him tight, and the last time she did that was just after the snap.
He holds onto her real tight, like she’ll disappear if he lets go. Realistically, he knows she won’t. But realistically, it shouldn’t have happened last time either.
She kisses his hair, running her hand through it and then pulling him away to look at him once again. She’s crying, and he feels her hand touch his cheek and realizes what she’s looking at when the sting comes. He instinctively pulls away.
She lifts her hands in the air, clenching them and hitching, like she doesn’t know what to do with them. Doesn’t know what to do that will help them or him and the bruise on his cheek.
“May,” he says, holding her hands, and sees Tony stop at his door. They both look scared. “You should’ve seen him,” he tries, and she only covers her mouth with her hand. She’s not taking any of it well.
Tony looks down and then up at her, “he’s right, if it helps,” he adds. “Something definitely broke on his end.”
He feels an I’m sorry lingering somewhere on the tip of his tongue, though it never makes it out.
The rest of the week, he tries his hardest to avoid everyone, and he does pretty well. Avoiding May is easy, until she starts coming home early for the second half of the week. After Wednesday, he tells her he really needs to study at school, so he’ll be late. He makes sure she’s asleep when he does come home.
Even though he can hear the pain in her voice when she leaves him countless voicemails to please come home by ten, he ignores her. He’s not the best son.
Avoiding Ned and MJ is harder, but he doesn’t fare too bad. They don’t have all their classes together, and he manages to find a few stupid clubs to join during the breaks. It’s always MJ who finds him, and they hash it out one day, but he does the same thing the next day.
Kind of upset that she doesn’t look for him again.
Avoiding Mr Stark is the hardest. He calls a lot, though Peter doesn’t pick up, or sends a stupid excuse in a text message every single time and he can tell it’s starting to piss him off.
It’s Monday soon, and it’s been a whole week since . . . the thing. He dreams about a lot of things that night. It starts with him building something. There’s wood—lots of wood. He’s with someone else, and he can’t tell who it is. And they continue building whatever it is that they’re building. The dream ends with him looking around, realizing he doesn’t know where he is. It ends with Max stealing the unknown person’s face and telling him he can live here all alone in the unfinished wooden house while he takes May away somewhere far.
He wakes up to May’s hands, caressing his face and running through his hair as she holds him. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she keeps whispering into his ears.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he sniffles and breaks down, trying to hold onto her arms but his hands just tremble too much, and he can’t steady himself.
“Peter,” she says, “hey, it’s okay,” she tells him, and he doesn’t believe her.
“What did you see?” May’s voice cuts through the thoughts, and he doesn’t want to answer her.
He can’t bring himself to a say Max’s name. She’ll get upset, just when she thought she could move on, he’d dragged her back with him and made sure they’d both never leave from the bottom of the hole he’d created.
“I can’t remember,” he answers. It’s something, even if it’s not what she wants to hear, or even what he wants to tell her. He misses that. He could tell her it all before, and she’d tell him about her own dreams, and they’d both be comforted by each other’s stories and presence. He ruined that too.
“I know for a fact that you do,” she tells him. She sounds tired.
He shakes his head, “it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”
“You’re shaking,” she says. “Baby, you can tell me.”
But he can’t. “Just stay here.”
He only realizes she’s crying when she draws in a shaky breath. “I’m—oh,” she sniffles, holding him tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I haven’t said that as much as I should’ve. I—I brought someone into this house and—why didn’t you tell me? I just—”
“May—”
“No, let me finish. I did that. It was me. I should’ve pushed when you were hesitant. I mean, you live here, you’re my kid. I let this happen. And it’ll never happen again, I promise you that. You never—never, ever hide these kinds of things from me again, alright? Anything remotely close to this happens, I don’t care if it’s here or when you’re out on the streets—you tell me everything.”
He nods against her hand, “May, this isn’t on you,” he says. “I don’t know why I—I didn’t.”
She stays quiet for a few seconds before she finally speaks up. “I wish your uncle was here,” she says, voice shaky. “I love you so much, more than the world, but—” she inhales.
He freezes. But.
“But he always knew when you were upset.”
He sighs in relief. “So do you.”
“Not like he did. And I tried, I still do. But I missed Spider-Man. I missed this, and I know he wouldn’t have,” she says. “I know he wouldn’t have,” she cries. “And I know you probably don’t think about them too much, but I wonder how pissed Mary and Richard would be at me right now. And all the other times.”
And now he feels guilty again. Mostly because he didn’t realize how badly his own decision to hide things from her would actually impact her. Didn’t realise that actions have consequences?
“It doesn’t matter,” he says without thinking, and feels her shake her head. “Because they’re not here. You are. You were here when they weren’t, and you were here when Ben wasn’t,” he says. And he can’t tell her that he ever doubted how much she does for him, doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to explain that.
He doesn’t have to, he finds, because she starts talking about it.
“I talked with Mr Stark,” she tells him, and he stiffens. “All those things Max said to you. You told him.” And not me?
He doesn’t answer.
“I’m not trying to bring it back up. But you know, right? That we both love each other and it’s not one-sided,” she tells him. He feels terrible that she feels like she has to explain something as basic as this to him.
He feels like he’s back in fifth grade, telling her about what that girl said to him in class, and she’s telling him that the girl knows nothing because May might not be his mom, but she loves him like one. So is there really much of a difference? Ten-year-old him understood that better than he does now.
“I know,” he says. “I do, and I shouldn’t have—“
“It’s alright,” she whispers, pulling him in close, kissing the top of his head. “I know you know,” she says softly.
They both stay quiet, and then she speaks again, “are you sure you don’t want to—“
“Yeah, May.”
She shifts, “it’s just—y’know Tony was saying—“
“You said he’d—I don’t know, get demoted or something.”
“He is. But you didn’t testify. They can only do so much.”
He sighs sadly, “I’m good with that.”
“Honey.”
“I am. I just—May, I don’t wanna say any of this in front of other people. I could hardly say it to you!” he tells her, voice raising at each word defensively, even if he really doesn’t mean for it to.
She nods, “okay, it’s—I get that,” she says, perhaps afraid of upsetting him.
Even after the heart-to-heart, which he thought would be his breakthrough, he finds himself spacing out, and even though he tries to convince himself to stop every single day, he’s getting more distant from everyone.
MJ finds him at lunch one of those days, despite his thinking that he’s found the best hiding spot. The bus. No one touches the bus between school hours.
He’s sitting on the broken seat near the back, head resting back as he stares at the roof. He perks up at the noise, poking his head down the middle to catch her land her eyes on him. Relief. She walks down, then sits down right next to him as he goes back to staring.
She speaks before he can muster the courage too, a good few minutes into the silence. “Are you mad at me?”
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head quickly. “No. No—I’m not. Really—and I’m sorry. Sorry for—”
“I told Mr Stark. To check on you on Friday. Two Friday’s ago. A-k-a the day you stopped talking to us,” she continues. “It’s stupid because I told him not to tell you and here I am, telling you myself.” She sounds more nervous than she usually ever does.
He frowns at her, then looks away, staring at the table and handouts instead. “I didn’t know,” he says. He didn’t. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done differently if he did know. He’s still been acting like a dick.
“Uh huh,” she says understandingly, “then why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m avoiding everyone.”
He can feel her looking at him. “Oh. Good to know,” she says, visibly upset.
He finally turns. “MJ—”
“I tried being there for you. I did everything I should’ve done and you’re—what? You won’t talk to me, and I’m not Ned. I’m your—” she stops and glares at him. “We’re something, right? Or is that in my head too?” she asks fiercely.
He shakes his head, but the words don’t come out quickly enough because she’s moving to leave.
He reaches out for her wrist, softly pulling her back down. “Obviously,” he says, “I don’t sneak ice cream and churros in for Ned at midnight.” He even smiles a little.
She looks at him with a pained expression on her face. “Peter.”
“I just—I don’t know how or why any of that happened, MJ. I can’t make it make sense in my head, because when I look back I don’t see a single reason why I did that. Why I got so scared. I don’t—” he stops, because he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say or justify.
“Then don’t think about it,” she offers, brows raised.
He breaks contact and sighs, leaning back against the seat. “I can’t just do that. It’s always on my mind. I can’t tell May because she’s already so upset. And I don’t—wanna speak to Mr Stark.”
“What about me?” she asks, and he can feel her gaze on him from where she sits, turned towards him. “Do you trust me?”
“I don’t—I don’t know how to start explaining it.”
She nods, then leans back with him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain it. Say whatever’s on your mind. Say the words out loud.”
He takes a deep breath, contemplating whether to take her up on the offer or not. “I hate him,” he says without thinking. “I hate him a lot.”
“Understandable. I hate him too.”
“And I didn’t tell her because—it was just words. I hate myself because I believed some of it, and even more because this guy, who didn’t even know her for more than a few months, was telling me how she felt and I . . . ,” he closes his eyes again. Stupid. Sounds worse when he says it out loud.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“And I missed you.”
“You have a strange way of showing it,” she says, and he snorts. “Are you okay?”
He turns his head towards her, burying it in her hair and the smell of coconut. “Hm hmm,” he shakes his head. But she’s here, and he’s already forgetting whatever stupid thing he was thinking of before she got here. “I will be,” he says.
“Bell’s about to go off,” she says, nudging him.
“I like this better.”
“You would. Now get your face out of my hair,” she says, starting to move.
He pushes back playfully, “you get your hair out of my face,” he says as she gets up, taking his hand and pulling him up too.
“Come on.”
He gets home early, and he expects May to be home, waiting for him like usual.
What he doesn’t expect, is Mr Stark, sitting on the couch right next to her, just like when they first met.
He frowns, pulling his backpack strap tighter as they both look to him.
“I thought you’d be late,” May notes, a little surprised.
“I can—I’ll come back, Ned wanted us to—“
Mr Stark stands up, brows raised. “Ned? You haven’t spoken to Ned in a week.”
“Pfft,” he shakes his head, “yes, I have.”
“No, you haven’t, I called him.”
“What?” he all but exclaims, then clears his throat. “You’re talking to Ned?” he asks, a little calmer.
May grimaces, “they’re worried about you. So are we.”
They? MJ too. Talk about breach of trust. He sighs, disappointed. “Okay?”
“Okay? What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “It means okay. It means—I d’know, everyone’s exaggerating a little, because I’m perfectly fine,” he says, making his way to his room.
He doesn’t have to listen to know they’re following him. He throws his bag by the door and sits down on the edge of his bed, plugging his phone into the charger. “It’s not that deep.”
“Not that—we’re—“
“I—“
They both stop, then Mr Stark continues.
“Because you’re not talking to us? That’s one guess. And it is that deep.”
“That’s not true. I’ve just been busy,” he says, unlocking the screen and swiping around.
Mr Stark reaches down, sniping his phone out of his hand as he whines and looks up at them.
He sighs, looking up at them both hover over him like literal helicopter parents. “May. Mr Stark, it’s all good. I talked to MJ, I was about to text Ned. I’m getting there.”
Mr Stark looks to May, and they exchange a weird signal before she nods and says, “I’ll leave you two.”
His eyes widen, “for what?”
“To catch up,” she says with a small smile.
He opens his mouth to refute, but she’s already making her way out, only stopping to pick up his shirt from the ground and chucking it in the laundry basket.
“That wasn’t— dirty,” he mumbles.
Mr Stark watches him carefully, then sits down next to him. “Lay it on me.”
“Lay what on you?”
“Y’know, my dad wasn’t the best either,” he says, almost out of nowhere, the sentence phrased thoughtfully like it’s a new realisation.
Except it’s not really. And he doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Breaking the cycle of shame and my dad never really gave a lot of support and sometimes they think they’re right just because they gotta few years on you.
He nods, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. “Mr Stark, it’s not the—that was your dad. That’s worse, I don’t think you can compare—“
“You’re right; we can’t. Now stop talking and listen. Okay, my dad. He—uh, he had a temper, for sure. Smashed a few things in his time. Mom hated it, but you know how it goes. They can’t leave.
He pushed me by accident. Just once. He was making this model of a car and I was about ten. Wanted to see what’s happening and I messed around with it--he tried pulling me back but you know—kids are small. I hit my head and mom was, well, pretty mad. Jarvis went with me to get stitches—“ he instinctively reaches for his head, massaging his finger against his scalp.
“He apologised. I still tell myself he was a workaholic so that excused everything he said. The the point is, and there is a point, that this stayed with me. I don’t remember anything else about being ten. But almost all the times he got angry—I remember. They’re engrained in my head. Just like the past few months are in yours.”
He doesn’t say anything. Continues to stare at the carpet.
“And it’s okay for it to be.”
“I don’t like thinking about this,” he says, fists clenched.
“I know. But you do. Every night since then, I bet,” Mr Stark replies, and he’s not wrong. May probably told him about the dreams. Nightmares.
He sighs, “I can’t answer why I didn’t tell her.”
“I’m not asking,” Mr Stark says softly.
“No, but I am. That’s the only thing I think about,” he confesses. “It annoys me. And it’s useless thinking about it, I know that, but—I can’t answer it and it scares me that people can grow up and be like that for no reason.”
“They’ll say they had a bad childhood,” Mr Stark says with a scoff.
Peter almost laughs, looking at Tony, “that’s what he said! Something about his dad or something.”
“What’d I tell you. Don’t realise they’re doing the exact same thing,” he says, flipping Peter’s phone up and down in his hands. “Ruining the next generation.”
“Unless you don’t.”
“Don’t end up like him?”
“Yeah,” he shifts, looking up at the man, “because you broke the cycle.”
“What?” Mr Stark asks.
He clears his throat, “y’know, during the ferry thing and you called and said you were trying to break the cycle of shame? You did.”
Mr Stark smiles, then extends his arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. “Do you just make a mental note of everything I say?” he asks.
“Well, I do have a pretty good memory.” he replies, leaning into the half-hug. “Except during exam season.”
Mr Stark huffs a laugh, “well, you’re not doing bad yourself, kid.”
“Well, I don’t have kids yet.”
“You don’t need kids to prove you’re a good person,” Mr Stark says, nudging him gently.
“Yeah,” Peter says, smiling back. “I guess not.”