Chapter Text
To say Aunt May hadn't been happy about the whole Peter-being-Spider-Man-thing was an understatement. He'd lost track of time the night she found out. She hadn't stopped yelling at him for hours. And even afterwards, there had been the silent treatment for the better part of a month.
Of course, Mr Stark has been called in -- much to Peter's dismay -- and it had been his turn to get yelled at. Peter couldn't even find any smidgen of satisfaction as he watched it happen.
Mr Stark had tried to explain as best he could, but none of it really made a difference. Judging by the expression on his face, Mr Stark hadn't expected it to either.
"My fifteen year old kid!" She had yelled, tears in her eyes.
And that -- that had killed both Peter and Mr Stark in an instant. All he had wanted to do was help people, to be like the superheroes he saw on t.v. The ones who saved New York from aliens!
But he knew Aunt May wouldn't like it -- she would hate it.
And she did.
So when she told-- no, commanded -- Mr Stark to take back the suit, it took all Peter had not to burst into tears right then and completely embarrass himself.
God, why had he messed everything up so badly?
"Say your goodbyes, you won't be seeing each other again," Aunt May had said, glaring at both of them.
They slunk back to Peter's room, resigned expressions on their faces. Peter quickly changed out of the suit and into some sweats and a t-shirt. He painstakingly folded the suit as best he could. Once he had it completely folded, he found himself unable to let it go.
He turned back to Mr Stark, trying to hide the wetness building in his eyes. He tried to subtly sniff, but it was still loud in the silent room.
"Mr Stark, I--" he started, but his voice cracked. He couldn't even look at the man. "I'm so sorry."
"No," Mr Stark said, firm with no room for discussion. "You have nothing to apologize for kid, you hear me? This-- this is all on me. I'm the adult, and you're just a kid, I should've known better than to get you involved. I'm sorry, Peter."
He couldn't stop the tears from falling then, and he had to quickly hand over the suit before he never let go. He scrubbed his face with his hands and turned away.
"I-I just wanted to be like you," Peter said, his words muffled by the hands over this mouth. "I just wanted to be a hero."
"I know, kid. I know," Mr Stark said, and he placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, squeezing gently. "And you are, I promise you are."
They stayed like that for a while, with Peter trying to muffle his sobs and Mr Stark's presence by his side. Too soon, Mr Stark withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. Peter turned to face him, his cheeks still wet and nose running.
"I have to go," Mr Stark said, his voice soft and regretful. More tears gathered in Peter's eyes.
Peter nodded, unable to say anything, and watched as Mr Stark walked to the door. Peter couldn't help the tightening of his chest as he watched the scene unfold. Mr Stark stopped before reaching for the door handle. Peter watched his tense shoulders, saw them slump as he sighed.
He turned back then, looked Peter in the eyes and opened his arms, just slightly enough for Peter to fit between them.
There were no misinterpretations this time, no hesitant or second guessing. Peter sprung forward without thinking, wrapping his arms around Mr Stark's hard chest and burying his face in the soft material of Mr Stark's jacket.
He expected a reprimand for spoiling the jacket with his snot and tears, but none came. Instead, Mr Stark just wrapped his arms around Peter's shoulders and drew him even closer. Peter cried harder.
Please don't go, he thought, clinging as tightly as he could, no doubt hurting the man with his strength. Please don't leave me.
"Pete," Mr Stark said, using the nickname for the first time. "I gotta go."
He didn't sound like he particularly wanted to, but they both knew it was a better if he just left and didn't cause any trouble. They didn't want to make this worse.
"O-okay," Peter said, drawing back and wrapped his arms around himself. He suddenly felt cold, so cold. He tried for a smile, but he knew it came out as more of a watery grimace.
"G-goodbye, Mr Stark," Peter said, almost unable to hold eye contact. "It was an honour to work with you."
He sounded so formal, but he couldn't even form the right words to express the sheer amount of gratitude and adoration he felt for the man in front of him.
They say to never meet your heroes, because they'll always let you down. And Mr Stark had let him down, but he's also picked Peter back up again. Peter didn't even know what he was supposed to be doing now.
"It was an honour to work with you too," Mr Stark said, and his smiled. A real, genuine smile and not the fake one Peter had seen so many times before. "And call me Tony."
"Y-yeah," Peter said, almost startled into a laugh. "Goodbye, Mr-- Tony."
"Goodbye, Peter," Mr S--Tony said. He turned back one last time and said, "I'll miss you, kid."
And then he was gone, disappearing from Peter's life. Just like Uncle Ben. Just like his parents. Just like Liz. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.
"If it wasn't obvious before, you're grounded. You go straight to school, finish your Decathlon meeting-- I'll be checking with Ned and Michelle -- and come back here. There will be no... superhero-ing, are we understood?" Aunt May said, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.
He'd never seen her this angry in his entire life. He just nodded, his throat closed.
She stares at him for a long time, not saying anything, before she stalks away, closing the door. Peter lets out the breath he'd been holding and collapses onto his bed. He curls up into a ball, dragging the comforter over himself. He buries his head beneath the blanket and squeezes his eyes shut.
How had his whole world managed to come crashing down in just one night? He thought he had it all under control, he thought he could have it both ways. But he was wrong. He was so wrong.