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The afternoon was unbearably hot as Tony strode down the sidewalk, his pinstripe Armani jacket flapping about him in the wind he created. Condensation from his iced coffee trickled off the plastic Starbucks cup and down his sleeve, switching the cup to his other hand so he could flick the water off his fingertips. The layers of smog and humidity of central New York cumulated under the collar of his dress shirt, which he unbuttoned hurriedly before slipping his hand into his pocket to check his phone.
Three missed calls from Peter. The distinct lack of texts sent a jolt of worry through Tony’s chest. There was obviously something wrong. Unlike Stephen, Peter always preferred to text. He was a teenager, for God’s sake. Just as Tony was queuing up to call him, a text rang through from the boy.
when are you gonna be home, it read, followed by a sad frowning emoji.
Tony completed the remaining three blocks to the Sanctum at a light jog, cursing his choice to walk to his nearby meetings that morning. He considered activating his suit for a second, before reasoning that Peter wasn’t in any immediate danger and the suit might be a little overkill. Tie flapping over his shoulder, he came to a stop in from of the Sanctum, taking his sunglasses off as he charged up the stairs into the dimly lit front foyer. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the low light, relishing in the cool of the building, before making out a huddled teenager shape at the bottom of the main staircase.
Peter was leaning forward on his knees, face hidden in his arms, wearing a large hoodie despite the heat outside. His backpack was leaned up against his leg, a crumpled paper sticking out of the top.
“Pete?”
The teen’s head shot up at the sound of his voice, eyes red and cheeks glistening with fallen tears.
“Where were you?” His voice croaked and turned into a squeak as he looked up at his dad pitifully.
“I was in meetings. Sorry I missed your calls.” Tony kneeled in front of him, setting down his drink and sunglasses. “What happened, bud? What’s going on?” He peeled off his jacket as he looked to the boy’s face for any sign of what was wrong. The usual possibilities ran through his mind. Anxiety attack? Sensory overload? Once in a blue moon bad grade? The fluorescent orange card stock sticking out of the top of Peter’s backpack caught his eye.
“What’s this?” He grabbed the paper, but Peter snatched for it desperately and Tony let him retrieve it from his grip.
“Don’t - I…it doesn’t matter. I just - it’s a school thing.”
“Spanish test?”
“No. It’s a trip.” With this, his bottom lip trembled, new tears forming in his eyes. Peter scrunched his face up, red with frustration, burying his head in his arms as a quiet sob left him.
“Oh, Pete.” Tony slid forward, wrapping his arms around the teen’s shoulders. Peter pressed his forehead against his dad’s shoulder, falling into his whimpering tears as Tony rubbed his back soothingly. Peter tried to calm his breathing as he inhaled the familiar scent of coffee and expensive cologne, the soft dress shirt soothing against his hot forehead. He could feel how warm Tony was, sticky from the heat of the day, felt bad for initiating a hug that must have been uncomfortably hot for the man.
Tony pulled back, running a hand through the boy’s mess of curls, dress shoes squeaking quietly on the floor as he readjusted his kneeling position.
“Will you tell me about it, spiderling? What’s the trip? Let Dad fix it, okay?” Peter shook his head, sniffing loudly as he tried to wipe his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“I - I don’t think you can.”
Tony levelled him with a steady gaze, brown eyes deep and kind. “Try me, kid.”
Peter wordlessly proffered the piece of paper clenched in his fist, sheepishly trying to smooth the wrinkles before relinquishing it over to Tony. The billionaire gave the teen a look before focusing on the sheet. He quickly read over the title, eyes skimming the picture on the page; a cartoon drawing of people swimming. The details contained information about the time and location for an end-of-the-year pool party at a nearby university for Peter’s class, a celebration of one last stretch for exams before summer hit. Tony re-read the entire page again, looking for anything obviously upsetting or problematic for the teen. He was racking his brain for any date conflicts when it hit him in a wave of realization.
“Oh”, he breathed gently, eyes flicking to Peter’s face. The teen’s head was turned, eyes fixed on the Cauldron of the Cosmos like it might be able to help his situation. Seeing as he'd been the one to pay for Peter's top surgery, Tony had been very involved in the whole process, especially after the debacle with the Sokovia Accords.
“Pete…”
“It doesn’t matter, I’m not going anyway”, he grumbled into his elbow, refusing to make eye contact with his dad.
“You obviously want to if you’re this upset about it”, Tony reasoned gently.
“Not as much as I want people to still like me! I don’t want people to treat me differently just because…they know.”
“Well, it’s not so bad for people to know. If you’re ready for them to know.”
“Yes, it is! Nobody at my school knows! I have no idea how they’d react! I mean, Ned’s the only one who knows and if MJ found out - she’d…”
“I though MJ was pretty cool, though?”
“She is. And I - I like her, which is why I don’t want her to find out like this. And not yet.” Peter’s face crumpled as he deflated in defeat, shoulders slumping. “But she’s going to be there, everyone is. And there’s no hiding it.”
“You were so proud of those scars after you had your surgery”, Tony said fruitlessly. He knew Peter’s quiet, overwhelming joy was not something shared by all eyes considering transition surgery. Peter diverted the topic slightly, trying not to let guilt wash over him as he was reminded of who paid for his life-changing top surgery.
“I still have another year of school with these people, Dad.”
“I understand. You can also look at it like this: you only have one year left with these people. You don’t need to come out to these kids if you don’t want to. When you get to university you’ll-.”
“I want to.” Brown eyes met Peter’s in quiet surprise. “Come out, I mean. Like you said, I’ve been feeling a lot better about myself since my surgery. I’m just nervous…” Peter hung his head, picking at the scuffed toe of his converse.
“They’re not that noticeable, you know.”
Peter grumbled. “Yes, they are.” Tony’s mouth twisted slightly, hating seeing his kid so distraught about something as small but pivotal as his appearance.
“No. You know what’s really noticeable? This.” He tapped the centre of his chest soundly, right above his heart. He’d had his own life-altering chest surgery several years ago, removing the permanent arc reactor, letting him breath and laugh painlessly like he hadn’t done in years. Left in it’s place was a jagged circle of a scar, silvery and smooth in the dim light as he undid his top three buttons, letting Peter see it.
“You know what that is.” He tapped it again, once. “I could be ashamed of it. But it was a good thing, a really good thing getting that thing out of me. I could have gone on without that surgery, but life wouldn’t have been as good. Same for you, right?” His tone was warm and hushed, and the vulnerability and trust in his eyes, as he kneeled in front of Peter, painful scar exposed, was enough to bring tears back to the boy’s eyes.
“Hey, no. Hush, baby, that wasn’t supposed to make you cry.” Peter felt himself gathered up in strong arms again, clinging to Tony’s shoulder as he sobbed into his dress shirt.
“I-I’m s-sorry. You m-must think I’m so ungrateful and s-selfish.”
“No, no, Pete. I just want you to be happy with yourself.”
“I-I am. Thanks to you”, he sniffed, blearily noticing how wet Tony’s shirt was.
“No. It’s all you. You’re the strong one, buddy. I just made sure you got the help you needed.”
Peter managed a teary half-smile at the praise, eyes flicking up as the front door to the Sanctum swung open. Stephen slumped in the door out of the sweltering heat, uncharacteristic from his usual ramrod posture, catching sight of Peter and Tony as he closed the door behind him. Huffing in the cool of front hall, the sorcerer narrowed his eyes as he took in the scene before him, immediately catching sight of Peter’s tear-reddened eyes.
“What happened here? Are you alright, Peter?”
A year ago, Peter might have hidden his reddened face and running nose, the outburst of emotions as he cried into Tony’s chest, but now he looked up at the sorcerer. The teen waggled his head in a so-so manner in regard to Stephen’s question, hugging his arms around himself. He gave Tony a glance which asked if he would explain things.
“There’s a end-of-year pool party thing for his class, and, uh, Pete’s not sure if he’s gonna go”, Tony replied somewhat lamely, not sure how much information the teen wanted to release. The boy and the sorcerer had grown much closer in the past ten or so months, getting more comfortable having conversations without Tony as a middle man. This meant Tony wasn’t always sure what exactly had been shared between them and to what depth.
Peter saved him from his moment of uncertainty.
“I-I don’t really want people to see my top surgery scars”, he supplied simply, voice quavering in between sobs. “But I really want to go to this party. It-it’s…next year is my last year of high school and I just-.” He cut himself off as tears sprang forth again. Understanding washed over the sorcerer’s face, his expression stilling slightly. Uncomfortable humidity forgotten, Stephen’s usual cat-like movements returned as he came to cautiously sit on the step beside Peter.
“That’s understandable”, he said calmly. Peter seemed noticeably more relaxed under the influence of the sorcerer’s soothing, rumbling baritone, eyes trained on him through his tears. “Ned knows, right?” Peter nodded, still holding Tony’s hand while he watched Stephen like a safety beacon in a storm.
“So”, Stephen continued, shaking hands steepled in front of him as he rested his forearms on his knees. “Just so I understand: are you worried about people’s reactions to the scars themselves, or to what the scars mean?” One brow was raised ever so slightly in a way that said he knew what the answer was, but wanted to be crystal clear before offering any advice.
“What they mean”, Peter confirmed in a wet voice. Tony’s chest clenched at how small he sounded.
“Right.” Stephen smoothed his chin hair once. He stilled for a moment in thought, frozen, before he slid fluidly to his feet, turning to face Peter as he did, dropping to his knees beside Tony in one easy motion.
He held his hands out to Peter, Tony releasing the boy’s left hand as he realized what his husband was doing. Peter hesitated, only because he knew how sensitive the sorcerer was about his hands, but carefully placed his own hands into the large, gently shaking palms. A feather-light touch was passed over the tops of Peter’s hands as Stephen rubbed his thumbs over them, held them in his soft, unsteady grip, keeping eye contact with the boy.
“Anyone”, he started. “Anyone, at all, who judges you on who you are, m- you kind, selfless, genius, beautiful boy, is not worth your time.” Coupled with the therapeutic circles being rubbed onto his hands, Peter let a sob hiccup in his chest at his stepfather’s words.
“You - you are so brave in so many ways, so strong. I know that if you came out, no matter anyone’s reaction, you would get through it.” He paused, head tilting in sympathy as tears ran down Peter’s cheeks. “You have two amazing friends, yes? And you have your dad.” He looked at Tony, kneeled beside them, quiet but intent as he gauged Peter’s reaction. “And you have me”, Stephen rasped, his voice catching as he squeezed the teen’s hands meaningfully. “You always have me.”
He slowly turned his hands over, still holding Peter’s in his grip, so his scars were facing upward, the five jagged lines on each hand running down his fingers, ending just above the nail. Peter watched as the sorcerer looked down at his own hands, regarding them silently.
“I’ve had these for years now, and I’ve yet to be brave enough to stop hiding them. You see me; hiding them behind my back, in my pockets, my gloves. That’s okay, I guess. I’ll get there.” He looked back up at Peter and the teen was surprised to see tears forming in the sorcerer’s green-blue eyes.
“But you? I know that, if this is something that you really want, a step you want to take…then you can do it. Because you are…fourteen million times braver than I am.” Tony lifted his head at the mention of that particular number, smiling quietly to himself.
"And I'm grateful for these scars, too", Stephen continued. "If I hadn't got them, I wouldn't have met either of you, would I?", he muttered, smiling softly.
Peter was shaking with emotion, lips parted slightly in near disbelief with the weight behind the words Stephen had just said so honestly, so openly. He gave a half smile through his tears, huffing slightly in emotional exhaustion as shook his head almost subconsciously. His heart swelled when Stephen lifted a hand, gently trailing it across Peter’s cheek to wipe away his tears. His eyes had never left the sorcerer’s, holding his scarred hand gently.
“C-can I hug you?”, Peter asked through a suppressed sob.
Stephen’s face softened, losing ten years of stress in a matter of seconds. “Of course”, he replied, voice tender as he opened his arms, Peter nearly falling into them, against his stepdad’s chest, his strongly beating heart, the deep vibration of his voice as he told him it was going to be okay.
“Sorry”, Peter said hoarsely as he pulled back, noticing the patch of wet tears on Stephen’s t-shirt.
“Hey, no apologies, mister”, Tony accused gently, Stephen nodding in agreement.
The three stood in silent tandem, the teen keeping a hand in Stephen’s as they climbed the stairs to their living area. Tony was on his other side, keeping a reassuring hand on his back as they filed into the kitchen. Peter climbed onto a stool at the island, finding comfort in watching his dads putter about the kitchen in a rare moment of calm domesticity. Tony was rooting through the cupboards for some form of comfort junk food, growling gently as Stephen nudged him while reaching for glasses in the cupboard well above the shorter man’s head. Usually unperturbed by the heat, today was simply too humid for Stephen to continue his normal habit of hot weather tea drinking, so he settled for grabbing the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge instead.
“Tony”, Stephen said as a quiet cue, indicating the large, heavy pitcher with one trembling finger. Tony nodded in understanding.
Hitting a roadblock in both of their respective tasks, the two men switched gears and places as Tony went to pour three glasses of iced tea, while Stephen grabbed the bag of popcorn Tony had spotted on the top shelf. Sliding onto the stool adjacent to Peter at the end of the island, Tony pulled open the bag of popcorn, grabbing a handful before turning it towards Peter.
“You know”, Tony started, chewing a mouthful of popcorn thoughtfully. “It’s only going to get hotter and I could do with a new swimsuit. And I know you’ve had that same pair for at least five years”, he told Stephen, who responded by plucking a small piece of popcorn off his husband’s facial hair.
“I take it you’re suggesting a family shopping trip?”, Stephen asked in bemusement, trailing a finger around the top of his glass.
“What do you think, Pete? You’ve got, what, a week until the party? We could go…Wednesday night? Might as well knock ‘em dead if you’re going to go.”
Peter regarded his words quietly, staring at the ice cubes floating in his iced tea, and Tony was afraid he’d gone over some sort of line before the teen looked up with a smile.
“Yeah, that’d be really fun. As long as you both come”, he added, looking pointedly at Stephen.
“What?”, Tony asked. “Afraid of what I’ll buy?”
“Yes”, Peter and Stephen responded at the same time, smiling at each other.
“You’ve proven time and time again that it’s a bad idea to leave you unsupervised on shopping trips”, Stephen smirked over the rim of his glass. He then gracefully dodged the piece of popcorn thrown at him, threatening to confiscate the bag if Tony didn't grow up.
“And, yes, I suppose I’ll come if it would help”, Stephen said to Peter. The teen nodded with a small, “Thanks”.
Comfortable silence fell over the three as Peter and Tony sat, the teen reaching over for a handful of popcorn every now and again, Stephen seemingly deep in thought as he stood, sipping his iced tea. Sunlight scattered across the countertop through the fragmented window, setting a golden light to dance over Peter’s curls as Stephen kept his eyes on him, though he was too lost in thought to be focused on anything. Peter flicked through his phone idly, eyes still a little pink from crying, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth occasionally whenever something amusing came across his feed. Tony did the same, though his brow was furrowed, trying to read a text post without the glasses he was beginning to need.
“I could”, Stephen started, making Peter look up. “It’s possible, I mean, for me to use a spell which could cover your scars for a short period of time. If you want”, he added quietly, sea-green eyes trained on Peter with gentle consideration. The teen seemed to mull it over for a second, out of courtesy if nothing else, before shaking his head, brown curls bouncing slightly.
“I think I’m good. I was thinking about it and I think I’m just going to go and if anyone says anything about it, I’ve got Ned with me. Like you said”, he turned to Tony. “They’re really not that noticeable. Thanks, though.” He gave the sorcerer a small, grateful smile and Stephen’s chest swelled with pride and affection for the boy.
“No problem. I’m glad you came to that decision.” His eyes and smile were warm in return, turning when Tony poked at his arm.
“Lookit this, babe. These would look good on you.” He held up his phone to reveal the online swimwear catalogue he’d been looking through, displaying a pair of swim shorts with three bands of pink, yellow, and blue, horizontal so they resembled the pansexual pride flag.
“Maybe. I’m usually more of a traditional Hawaiian print kind of guy.”
Tony snorted. “Since when?”, he said, turning his phone so Peter could see.
“Oh, my God. Do they have the trans flag?”, Peter asked, voice rising an octave in excitement.
“They should”, Tony said, squinting as he scrolled further down the page, wishing he had grabbed his glasses. “There we go. Bi flag too.”
“Cool! We should all get a pair with our flag on it”, Peter said, eyes bright with excitement. Stephen usually would have balked at the idea, wary of his family walking about like a year-round pride parade if only for their safety, but his heart clenched at the boy’s excitement,
“Sure, it sounds like a good idea, Peter.”
Stephen watched Peter’s smile grow as he and Tony continued to look through the website, making plans to go to the mall that Wednesday; luckily the company had one of its stores in New York. So different from the sobbing mess he was half an hour ago, Stephen smiled as the familiar sunshine-like glow from the boy made his chest warm.
He supposed giving up Hawaiian print was a small price to pay to make his boy happy.