Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Peter sucks on his straw until he gets air instead of Coke. He's probably had too much caffeine already, but due to his super speedy metabolism, he burns right through it and thinks it'll be okay if he has another glass. Mr Stark is listening to some old guy beside him at their table drone on and on, and he looks really bored, but Peter knows that it's probably important, and Mr Stark should at least pretend to listen, so he pokes him in the shoulder and whispers that he's going to get another Coke from the bar. Mr Stark gives a small wave of dismissal to let him know he heard, so Peter jumps up and makes his way through all the people socializing at the gala.
He's about halfway there when he spots the restrooms and rethinks his plan. He's had three glasses already, and his bladder could use a break, so he decides to make a pit stop.
There are a few old guys in the bathroom and some slightly younger ones, but it doesn't phase him. He's probably one of the youngest, if not the youngest person at the gala, so he barely bats an eye. By the time he's done his business, there is just one older guy left, and Peter barely notices him looking over from the urinals while he's washing his hands. It registers that it's kind of weird to make eye contact while you're pissing in a urinal, but he dismisses it and grabs for a towel. He's tossing it in the trash when he hears a click, and he looks up, a little startled.
The older man is now standing with his back to the door and looking right back at Peter in a way that makes Peter feel very uncomfortable. He's used to bad guys, of course, but that's when he's Spider-Man. Right now he's just Peter Parker. He could easily shove the guy aside and break through the door--he thinks quickly about doing it--but normal people can't bust down doors with a kick, so he risks giving himself away. And according to Mr Stark, it's really important that he doesn't do that.
The man looks about sixty, Peter thinks. He has gray hair and is balding near the top. He's definitely on the rounder side and is probably about twice Peter's weight. Peter thinks that the best course of action is to figure out what he wants, so he decides to hold his ground for the time being.
"Um, can I help you with something, sir?" he asks, even though every nerve in his body is telling him to get the hell out of the bathroom and find Mr Stark.
The man's lips curl into a grotesque smile, his teeth crooked and yellow. He’s still looking at Peter in a weird way--up and down and back again like Peter’s an expensive car that he’d like to drive. "A boy like you must be bored at an event like this," he says, pushing away from the door and taking two steps towards Peter. "Would you like to make the time go by faster?"
Peter is not sure exactly how to reply. He definitely wouldn’t like to spend any amount of time with this creeper. Does he say he has to get back to Mr Stark? Then again, he probably shouldn't even mention Mr Stark's name. The last thing he wants is to be held for ransom. No, it's probably best if he doesn't say that.
"What's your name, boy?" the man asks, taking two more steps until he is now an arm length away.
Peter backs into the wall, swallowing the bile that threatens to come up his throat.
The man steps closer, leaning into Peter's personal space. "I would prefer if you answered me." His breath smells like garlic and broccoli, along with an overpowering scent of booze.
Peter can't help himself when he shoves the man away. It's harder than he means to, and the man stumbles back, barely keeping his footing before he grabs a sink and rights himself. Peter has to dial it down. As grossed out as he is, he can't let this guy know that he's anything other than a fifteen year old kid tagging along to some boring benefit. He’s contemplating hitting the panic button on his phone that’s shoved into his pocket when the guy lunges toward him again and grabs his wrist, spinning him around until he’s pressed up against the wall. His face is smushed against the crisp white tile when the guy leans into him.
“You’re pretty strong, huh,” he says, his breath making Peter want to puke. “Good thing I like that.”
The man’s free hand is then on Peter’s belt, trying to get it loose. He’s panting and rubbing against Peter’s back, and it’s sick and disgusting. Peter wants to be anywhere else but there. He’s thinking about overpowering the guy when a hand moves down his front. Peter feels like he’s going to puke. He’s frozen for a second, not believing what’s actually happening, and then the next thing he knows, he’s gagging. A good amount of soda comes up, splashing on the tile floor, but the man doesn’t back away.
Peter is gasping and panting from vomiting. All he wants is to push him away, but he’s shaking so hard, he can’t get control of his limbs. Tears spring to his eyes just as there’s a knock at the door.
“Hello?” a man’s voice calls, and the handle on the door jiggles. And then softer, “The door is jammed.”
Tears roll down Peter’s face, burning hot tracks on his red cheeks. Someone is going to come in any second, and he’ll be okay without having to use his powers. “Get off of me!” he finally finds the composure to yell, kicking his leg and trying to jostle the creep away. His face hurts from being pressed against the wall, and his wrist is sore from being pulled on and twisted behind his back, but he doesn’t even care about those things when his foot finally makes contact with what he’s guessing is the creep’s shin.
“Ow!” the man cries, releasing Peter and jumping back.
“Pete! Are you in there?” Mr Stark yells from the other side of the door, and Peter feels like collapsing with relief. He tries to reply, and only a sob comes out. He’s shaking so badly with fear and relief that he can’t even get any actual words out.
The man is looking around, trying to find somewhere to escape to, but there is no other exit, not even a window. There’s now pounding on the door, so he takes one angry glance at Peter before dashing into a stall and locking himself inside.
“Stand back!” Mr Stark calls, and before Peter can respond, the door is blasted through. The dust clears, and Peter sees the Iron Man gauntlet through the splintered wood. His legs threaten to give out so he grabs the sink nearest to him, and hangs on while Mr Stark steps through the hole he made in the door.
The gauntlet retracts into Mr Stark’s wristband, and he rushes towards Peter. “Hey, what’s going on in here?” he asks, glancing at the vomit on the floor, and the front of Peter’s suit, which is also wet since he couldn’t turn his head properly. “Are you okay?”
Peter grabs onto him and clutches him tightly, pressing his tear stained face into Mr Stark’s collar. He doesn’t want to say what happened. He only points toward the stall that his attacker had locked himself into and then immediately latches onto the back of Mr Stark’s suit. The next thing he knows, he’s being pulled out of the bathroom, and then forced to let go of his mentor while Happy lowers him to a chair and sits on another in front of him.
“You okay, kid?” Happy says, putting a heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
Peter shakes his head and rubs at his eyes. The answer to both questions is no, he guesses. He’s not physically hurt, but he’s definitely not okay. Nothing like that has ever happened to him before, and he’s having trouble processing it. He wants to put on his Spider-Man suit and wear it forever so that will never happen to him again. If he had been wearing the suit, he could have smashed that guy against the wall in a second, and no one would have known anything about Peter Parker. Being Peter Parker makes him vulnerable because he has to keep his strength a secret.
Happy scoots his chair closer and rubs Peter’s back comfortingly. “Don’t worry. Tony will make sure that guy goes to prison in an ambulance.”
When the police arrive and move in, Mr Stark finally comes out of the restroom. He finds Peter and Happy and sits down on the other side of Peter, leaning in to get a good look at his protégé.
Peter looks away. He has a feeling Mr Stark wants him to talk about it, and he doesn’t want to. At all. He just wants to go home. Or… actually, he doesn’t want to do that either. May will flip out when she finds out, and he doesn’t really want to deal with that either. He just wants to lock himself in his room at the Tower and never think about it again.
Mr Stark motions to Happy that he should scram. “Go get the car ready. Pete and I will meet you downstairs in a few minutes.” When Happy is out of earshot, Mr Stark places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know what happened. Let’s head on down to the car, and maybe you can tell me a little then?”
Peter doesn’t know how to say it so he puts his hands over his face and tries not to cry. This is not how he wants Mr Stark to see him. He wishes he could turn back time and avoid the restroom all together. He wouldn’t have drank so much Coke. He would have stayed with Mr Stark all night. But it’s too late now, and he can’t change the past. He’s going to have to say something to Mr Stark eventually, even though he wants to change the subject and pretend everything’s okay.
“Alright, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Mr Stark says and pulls Peter up by the arm. He puts his arm around Peter’s shoulders and walks him towards the exit while Peter tries to wipe the tears from his face.
When they get the lobby, and walk through the doors, Happy is waiting out front with the car, and Mr Stark ushers Peter into the back seat before climbing in after him. He motions to Happy to roll up the partition. “I get that this is hard,” he says, watching while Peter stares ahead at nothing in particular. “You don’t have to give me all the gritty details. Right now, I just need to know if I need to bring you to the hospital or something. So please, Pete. Give me the cliffnotes.”
Peter takes in a shaky breath. He understands why he should tell Mr Stark. He just doesn’t really want to. “He didn’t actually do anything,” he says at last, trying to be as vague as possible. “He just kinda--held me down. I kicked him, and he let go.”
Mr Stark lets out an audible breath. “Okay. We’ll let Happy drive us back to the Tower then.” He puts his arm around Peter. “You’re gonna be okay, bud. I’m really sorry that happened.”
Peter leans into him and closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault,” he mumbles.
“And don’t you worry about that creep seeing the light of day anytime soon. I have about twenty lawyers making sure he can’t come near you ever again.” Mr Stark squeezes Peter’s shoulder. “Right now he’s suffering from a black eye and possibly a concussion, but if I ever see him again, he’ll probably be wishing he was dead.”
Peter doesn’t want to cry, but he can’t stop the tears, so he grabs onto Mr Stark’s lapel and buries his face into his mentor’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Pete,” Mr Stark says, his voice sounding slightly fractured. “I should have been watching you closer. Then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“It’s not your fault!” Peter says with more force into the collar of Mr Stark’s shirt and then sniffs, feeling bad. “Don’t blame yourself for this. If anything, it’s my fault.”
“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. You are the last person who’s to blame.” Mr Stark has his hands on his shoulders now and is pulling him back to look at him. “You are a child, Pete.”
“But I’m also Spider-Man,” Peter says, and now he’s really crying hard, but he can’t help it. “I c-could have beaten the shit out of him, and I didn’t. I should have just d-done it. I don’t know why I thought I had to hide my identity from him. People probably wouldn’t listen to a w-word he said anyway.”
Mr Stark pulls him back into his arms and rubs his back comfortingly. “I don’t know what would have happened if you did, but I do know that none of that makes any of this your fault. That jerk shouldn’t have locked you in there. He shouldn’t have laid a finger on you. He is the one at fault, Pete. No one else.”
Peter knows that Mr Stark is right. What he said makes a lot of sense, after all. He just feels like maybe he could have done something differently to prevent it. He can think of a million things he could have done differently. But it’s too late now. He’s just glad he got away before anything else happened. And he’s glad he’s in Mr Stark’s car wrapped up in safe, strong arms.
“It is not your fault,” Mr Stark says again, giving him another squeeze. “What do you say to movies and popcorn when we get back? Maybe some ice cream later? I’ll even let you pick the movie this time.”
Peter sniffs and nods. Mr Stark knows everything that would help him feel better, and he appreciates the distraction. He especially appreciates Mr Stark letting him choose the movie, because lately, they’d been watching movies that Peter hadn’t yet seen. And right now he just wants to watch something familiar to take his mind off of everything.
~*~
Tony lets Peter fall asleep on the couch during the second movie, and doesn’t poke him awake like he usually does to make him move to his bed. Instead, he pulls the blankets up to Peter’s neck and can’t help but brush a curl or two away from his forehead while he looks down at him, feeling sad.
It could have been worse. It could have been much, much worse. He keeps telling himself that over and over. Peter’s going to be okay. They haven’t really talked about what happened much, but it doesn’t sound too bad. Peter’s clothes were all in place when Tony busted into the bathroom. That was good. But it doesn’t change how sick Tony feels thinking that something like that had happened at all.
And now that Peter’s asleep, Tony has to start thinking about telling May about it. And that is definitely something he doesn’t want to do. He’s kind of afraid she’s going to blame him and maybe she won’t let Peter hang around him anymore. Hell, Tony blames himself, so it’s not much of a stretch. If he were May, he would definitely put the blame on himself, too. It’s just that now that Peter’s been such a big part of his life, he can’t really imagine it without Peter.
So he decides to wait until morning, and then he could ask Peter before they tell May. If Peter wants to tell her himself, that should be his decision. If he wants Tony to do it, then Tony will definitely do it. What he’s afraid of is that Peter won’t want May to know, and Tony definitely thinks she should know. He can’t have her sending him her happy kid on Friday only to have him send back a damaged kid on Sunday night. Especially without an explanation.
He sighs and runs his hand through his messy hair, causing it to stick up. Then he crawls on the other side of the L-shaped sofa and grabs a pillow, fluffing it up and laying his head down close to Peter’s pillow. It’s going to be a long night, and he’ll be lucky if he gets any sleep at all. But he’ll be damned if he’s leaving the kid alone for a second. He will be there when Peter wakes up, and then they’ll deal with everything else together.