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“Peter?”
The kid looked tiny buried beneath a warm wave of blankets, feet curled beneath him on the couch and eyes heavy-lidded. A half-finished mug of hot chocolate sat in his sweater-paws, froths of cream still curling along the sides.
“Helloooo? Earth to Peter!” Tony waved a hand over his eyes, and Peter startled so abruptly the billionaire felt a flash of guilt for scaring him. “You okay?”
“Oh. Mr. Stark.” Peter instantly relaxed again, seemingly melting back into his cocoon of blankets. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Tony settled down beside him, not daring to pull his own blanket away from Peter. “Everything good?”
“Yeah.” Peter glanced down at his mug. “Everything’s fine.”
There was a thick silence. Tony cleared his throat and tried again, shuffling a little closer to the kid. He pretended not to notice the way Peter instantly crumbled against him, the warmth of his body seeping straight through Tony as the kid wrapped himself around his mentor. Somehow the blankets had come to envelope both of them at once.
But despite the content sigh that escaped the kid as his head buried against Tony’s chest, there was something in him that he couldn’t quite place his finger on.
Tense shoulders. Grit teeth. A haziness in his eyes, as if he hadn’t been ok for a long, long time.
“Pete.” Tony slid an arm around his kid, feeling the smaller body wriggle and move further against him. “Spit it out. Something’s up.”
“Nothing.” Peter yawned, and Tony suddenly noticed the thickness coating his words. Exhaustion. “I just…..can we just stay here like this? Just for now.”
Peter's voice was strained. Tony heard the plea behind his soft request.
Just for forever.
“Sure, Pete.” Tony pulled him closer. “It’s okay.”
The kid slipped from his grasp then, nuzzling closer into his side and wrapping his arms around Tony’s stomach. Something in the billionaire tightened - but he didn’t deny the contact, instead shifting a hand up to comb through Peter’s curls.
The two stayed like that for an immeasurable amount of time, lost together in a world only they could construct - one shifting, the other adapting to the movement - a mess of tight curls and warmth and a forgotten mug on the coffee table, the dark chocolate inside simmering down to a lukewarm brew.
Tony finished the mug for Peter before it cooled.
The kid was a comforting weight against Tony’s side - soft, the folds of his sweatshirt melting right into the sea of blankets the two were buried beneath. Buried, but not suffocating. Somehow, everything seemed just right - warm, but not hot. Cool, but not cold.
Hell, he could do this forever - just him and Peter and a nice, warm drink sliding into the burrows of his stomach.
A slow silence filled the room, like a pleasant wave washing over Tony’s face. He leaned back, two fingers quickly finding the gentle pulse at the kid’s throat. Peter’s slow, rhythmic breathing - Tony was sure he was asleep by then - eased tension from his shoulders that he didn’t even know was there before.
Alive. Safe. Breathing.
PeterPeterPeterPeter.
Suddenly the kid was brushing against his shoulder, shifting comfortably back to a sitting position. Tony begrudgingly released his grip on Peter as he sat up and frowned, eyes locked on the now-empty mug.
Trust the kid to have his priorities in order.
“My hot chocolate….” The kid mumbled grumpily, a small pout forming on his face. The look was so childlike - so Peter - that Tony almost laughed and cried at the same time. What else was new?
"Kid, I’m a billionaire,” Tony reassured him with a knowing smirk. “I’ve got the money for a thousand Swiss Misses. Honestly, Pete, we could just head to Switzerland if you want.”
“Mm.” The kid didn’t even crack a smile, his eyes still locked on the mug. Something told Tony he wasn’t just thinking about hot chocolate.
“You can talk to me, Pete,” Tony said as gently as he could. He wasn’t like Howard. He’d be there for his kid. And something told him Peter definitely needed it today. “I promise, I’m here for you. Just the two of us.”
“Mr. Stark - " Peter gulped. “I - “
Tony waited patiently as the kid stuttered, his hands trembling slightly beneath the folds of his sweatshirt. Tony took Peter’s fingers in his hands and steadied them as the kid talked, one by one.
“Today - school….I, um….well, Flash was being really awful about my parents - “ Tony flinched. He’d heard all too much about the kid who’d been bullying Peter. The billionaire made a mental note to call the rest of the Avengers in one day, just to teach Flash a lesson. “A-and he said that I was making up the internship cause I h-have no friends, and he said that you’re the worst Avenger anyway and that only a loser like me would like you.” Peter stopped to wipe his nose with a sleeve.
“I kinda just snapped, and I punched him, and things got really bad and people - his other friends, I guess - were punching me back, and I w-wanted to fight back but I didn’t wanna hurt them so I just….I just let them….” Peter clenched his fists. “I shouldn’t have punched him.”
“It’s okay, Pete.” Tony soothed him with a small murmur. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I-I tried telling the teachers, but my advanced healing….the bruises were gone, and they didn’t believe me….” Peter was sobbing now. “It’s been happening for so long now, and I’m so tired and….and I know everyone at school’s been talking about me. They all think I’m a loser lying about my internship. And maybe I am, Mr. Stark. Maybe I’m just a….loser who happened to get bit by a spider one day.
I miss my parents. And...and I miss my uncle. And I'm so sick of everyone treating me like I'm nothing, even if it's the truth. I tried calling Happy and he drove me up here to see you but you were in a meeting and I just felt so stupid and useless, and I’m just a burden to you anyway - you’re so busy and you don’t need me distracting you all the time and always messing everything up and -”
Tony was wrapping his arms around the kid now, cutting off Peter’s choked sob with a soft murmur of his own.
It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay.
Peter was mumbling unintelligibly now, the sound muffled against Tony’s shirt sleeve.
“What was that, Pete?”
“You’re gonna hate me.” Peter’s eyes were red. “I did something awful.”
“Kid….” Tony was being stabbed. He was being ripped apart. “Nothing could ever make me hate you, you hear me? Nothing in this world is strong enough and shitty enough to do that.”
“I….” Peter’s voice broke. “I saw t-the sleeping pills you always take on the counter. And I took some. I took….a lot. But my metabolism - it burned right through the pills."
“You….”
You what?
"My enhanced metabolism....it kicked in and the pills didn't affect me as much and....a-and I d-didn't....it saved me."
He tried to hurt himself, you moron. He tried to go to sleep, and never wake up.
You really fucked up this time, Tony.
No sentence was powerful enough to fight whatever Peter was going through.
Tony tried anyway.
“I love you, Pete. You hear that? I really do.”
Peter didn’t meet his eyes. “Why?”
“Jesus, kid….” Tony ran a hand through the kid’s hair, fingers brushing against that one strand that was always in his face. It seemed like such a little thing now, but Tony had loved it so much. “If I had to list all the reasons, it’d take me until you’re gray and old.”
“So until I look like you?”
“Watch it.” Tony at least earned a weak smile.
“You know what? I’ll do you a solid and list just a few of the reasons. Like, 1 percent. Sound good?”
Peter mumbled something under his breath, nestling right back into Tony’s shoulder. The billionaire began.
“Well, the first reason I love you - you have those seriously cute puppy dog eyes. I mean, I thought I was a sucker for money , but jesus, kid - bribe me with those eyes, and I’ll give you the clothes off my back.”
Peter sniffled. Tony kept going. “I love your smile and your laugh and your stupid science puns. I love how you scream every time Luke finds out Darth Vader is his father, even when you know what’s going to happen every time.”
“I love the way you focus when you’re in the lab, like it’s just you and me and the machines, all together in one.” Tony paused and adjusted a loose curl, keeping his fingers gentle as they graced Peter's forehead. “I love the little notes you leave me on the kitchen table when you’re heading out. I love that you’ve never drank, never smoked, only been to one party in your life. I love that you don’t turn to that even when you feel this way, how you don’t give in like - “ Tony swallowed. “Like I did.”
"I love that one strand of hair that's always hanging in your face. I love the way you think, kid, and how smart and brilliant you are. I love you every time you help someone, without caring about fame or glory or yourself. I love you for all those times you've stood right there beside me when I'm feeling low."
Peter’s breathing had slowed, his face still pressed deep against Tony’s chest. The older man wrapped an arm around the kid, pulling his small, curled-up frame closer.
Tony had always thought he and the kid were polar opposites - one pure and good and sweet, the other hardened by years of alcohol and killing and giving up.
But now, seeing the pill bottle still resting on the table, the stress relaxing from Peter’s face as he faded into sleep - Tony realized the lines between the two had blurred more than he’d realized.
“I love every breath you take. I love every word you say. I love you more than I think is possible.” Tony shook his head slightly, nestling the now-asleep child against his chest. “And we’re gonna get through this together, you hear me? I’m not leaving you alone - ever.”
He smiled. “I love you, Pete. Don’t you forget that.”