Work Text:
The man couldn’t help but wonder what went on his son’s head. Whatever it was it was far more important to the teen than whatever else was going on around him. Peter had been an avid daydreamer since forever. Since he was little he’d stare off at the clouds or any body water, sometimes freezing as he was playing with his toys as if the story he was acting out simply went off in his head without the boy needing the toy’s to move with it.
He could admire the trait though, how could he not? It displayed a brilliant mind, and he couldn’t help but be a little smug. His genes were...gifted when it came to intelligence and he was sure it carried. But as Peter grew older, the parent didn’t know how to feel. Sure Peter kept his grades up, A’s on every test and project given to him. But for the life of him, the teachers and Tony weren’t sure when Peter was actively listening to them at all.
More often than not he’d be repeatedly calling for the boy only to startle him or end up with a stuttering bashful apology from Peter before he was gently asking what the question was or what had been said.
Several psychologist had suggested a plethora of attention disorders, another few assuming it was the maladaptive daydreaming disorder. But there were too many mixed opinions and Tony nor Peter felt the need to label it because if need be, Peter could focus and not all the symptoms fit.
It’s just...Peter didn’t want to?
The unknown reasons for him wanting to retreat in his head had child protective services breathing down the billionaires neck. As if he’d hurt the boy he’d cared so dearly for, and Tony couldn’t handle those accusations. Not when his son’s Bambi eyes constantly looked up at him with such admiration, Tony almost felt self-conscious in that he didn’t always feel like he deserved it. Peter always assured nothing was wrong, and was always just as upset at the accusations against his father when anyone tried to bring it up.
Those times made the boy want to apologize, his father would only brush it off though. They both understood their mind was a great thing to them, and Tony in the end couldn’t discriminate in how his son used it.
At the moment the teen was on the swing set in the backyard, chasing the feeling of the drop in his stomach which Tony could only assume replicated the feeling of swinging from his webs. Or maybe it just helped carry the story in his head, which also explained the teens choice of music.
The tunes were always solid, normally either intense or dramatic covers. Essentially it was music you’d see playing in the background of a movie. With a little help from FRIDAY she let him know as the boy kicked his legs back and forth, his phone was currently playing the song Tides by Crywolf and Skrux.
Tony didn’t know the song, but was sure he’d probably heard it blasting from Peter’s room before. Stepping outside and out into the compounds lawn, the inventor gingerly approached the swing set. Taking notice that the boy’s eyes were closed, a gentle smile on his lips. Tony couldn’t help but smile too, knocking on the support causing the boy to startle. Jumping off the set in a flip and looking at him as if he were a deer in headlights before he took his ear buds out.
“C’mon I’m making lunch, Friday’s been telling me you’re too in your head to remember to eat,”
The boy nodded, putting his headphones back on and following his father back inside. Mind whirring.
At the moment the teen was pretty committed to a story in his head. A little annoyed about having to resume his place after any interruption or go back and rewrite his scene all over again. Each either sounding amazing and continuing the story, or taking up too much time and frustrating him when the story didn’t come out as he’d wanted.
In his head he was fighting the Vulture, rewriting his lines to either be more intense or cool. Nothing like the scared and sputtering teenager he was that night.
“Earth to Peter,” someone, his dad snapped his fingers in front of him. Peter hadn’t even realized there was a plate in front of him. Begrudgingly turning his music off, Peter began to eat. Trying not to fall back into his head incase he ended up choking on his food. It'd happened before because h e hadn’t realized he’d said whatever he was thinking at the time out loud and dad had to rush into the room to give him the heimlich.
“Thank you dad,” stuffing his mouth with the sandwich Peter felt his stomach flutter with happiness. Having been empty for far too long without him really noticing.
“Mhm, What's going on in that head of yours today?” The billionaire asked conversationally, looking down at his phone to seem disinterested knowing Peter would take it as he wasn’t actually listening and would tell him anyway since he wouldn't have to worry about being self-consious.
“Nothing,” Peter responded easily, munching through the lettuce in his mouth as he took another bite. Enjoying his sandwich, wondering if it was just him but food always tasted better when prepared by his father. Even when it was something as simple as a sandwich.
“Dad?” The teen cut in after a few minutes of absent chewing. Tony had simply thought Peter had reverted back to his mind space but apparently not.
“Yeah Bambi?”
“Do you think something’s wrong with me?”
“No!” Tony answered abruptly, nearly choking on his own meal. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Pete. You hear me? Nothing,”
The boy nodded at the sincerness in his father’s tone, speaking quietly, “It’s just, I don’t feel like anything’s wrong that makes me want to just drift on into my head. It’s just I’m happy thinking about scenarios I’ll never be in. And doing things that seem far fetched and out of reach. Maybe I’m in my head all the time because everything is seemingly too much, and in my head I can be and do anything I want. Whatever I want,”
The inventor stood, walking to his son's side. Peter leaning against his torso easily in a pseudo hug as a kiss was pressed to his hairline.
“Well if there's something you want to do that’s so out of reach that you’re head won’t stop playing on repeat, let me know. Because not everything’s as out of reach as you think Bambi.” Tony really meant it, he’d do practically anything to make sure his son was happy. He had endless resources to give his son experiences he could keep and remember forever. Peter was just never good at asking for them.
The teen turned in his seat, hugging tightly to his father’s torso. Feeling more stable than he has in the real world for a long time with his dads reassuring heartbeat under his ear. Keeping him safe, when his overactive brain and occupancy often threw the idea of safe out the window. Not to mention the spider-sense.
“Did you wanna go on the swings?” The boy asked abruptly, taking the last bite of his sandwich.
“Not with my old bones, but I will push you,”
“You’re not old dad,” the teen laughed, accepting the ruffling of his hair. His headphones starting up again under his fingers.
The song The Wolves and the Ravens playing, making the slowly setting sun so much more appealing. His legs starting to kick to the firm press on his back as the world around him didn’t trail away as he was pushed on the swing. The moment was too good to drift off too.