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Tony is in a meeting with Pepper and the Board of Directors - the most important board meeting of the quarter - when his phone goes off.
Now. Tony doesn’t completely exude the dumbass energy that Pepper - and everyone else, traitors - often teases him about. So when his phone vibrates loudly against the mahogany surface of the table, drawing everyone’s attention, his eyes cut to Pepper. They both know that FRIDAY is only authorized to override his do not disturb setting if it’s an absolute necessity. Which in this case, can only mean one thing- Peter “Tis But a Flesh Wound, Mr. Stark” Parker.
It takes a level of discipline he rarely exudes to not jump to his feet and head for the door. Instead, Tony casually tucks his phone away as he pulls himself to his feet, fingering the top button of his suit jacket and flashing the board a charming, apologetic smile.
“My apologies. I have a teenage boy who is either in trouble or very much about to be.”
As it would turn out…. Tony has a teenage boy who is very much about to be. He’s caught off guard, however, when he steps out of the glass conference room and presses the phone to his ear only for the crisp voice on the other end be someone other than Peter or May.
According to the flustered, stammering voice of Principal Morita at the other end of the line, Peter never made it to his first period class. Tony glances down at his Rolex and frowns. It’s nearly mid morning. Pepper’s eyeing him curiously, worry in her eyes, and when Tony lifts his gaze to meet hers, he hooks a thumb over his shoulder, waiting for her sharp nod before spinning on his heels and heading for the elevator.
“Does the school usually wait this long to call about a missing student? Don’t answer that- I’ll take care of it.” If his voice is a bit sharper than usual, so be it. When he steps onto the elevator, phone trapped between his shoulder and ear, he lazily circles two fingers in the air, the tactical signal for rally point , knowing FRIDAY will have Happy bring the car around and meet him out front.
Before he’s even secured into the vehicle it is May’s voice on the other end of the line. After the school had finally gotten ahold of her, she’d wasted no time in calling Tony.
“Are you-”
“Yes, I’m tracking his phone.” Tony’s eyes flicker from Happy’s gaze in the rearview mirror back down to the StarkPad in his hand, fingers swiftly swiping between screens.
“What if he left it at home?” May’s voice is strained, an octave higher than usual. And honestly, Tony can’t blame her. Even he’s feeling a little frantic. It’s not like Peter to pull a stunt like this, and... Tony shakes his head, chasing off thoughts he’d ought not entertain.
“Then I’ll track his watch.” Or any one of the other three trackers I’ve got on the kid- four if he’s wearing the vertical titanium bar necklace that’s has “nerd” engraved into the back.
“Okay, but what if-”
“May,” Tony cuts in, trying to sound as reassuring as he can given the circumstances. “Relax. I’m taking care of it, I promise. Can you think of any reason he might have taken off?”
The pregnant pause that hangs between them is just heavy enough that Tony pauses, index finger and thumb hovering over a map that he’s about to pull right off the screen. “May?”
“It’s just- Well, it’s early, but.” Her voice shakes, but not like it had earlier. Tony doesn’t prompt any further, though he desperately wants to, but rather gives her a second to breathe. “We’re about four or five weeks out from Ben’s… From not having Ben around anymore. Even then, that’s over a month away. It’s not like Peter to cut school like this.” Her breath hitches. “Tony, what if he’s not cutting. What if-”
“Don’t, May. Don’t let your mind go there. Peter is very capable-”
“He’s fifteen , Tony!” she hisses. And Spider Man , Tony wants to remind her.
“- and, ” he emphasizes, blazing on. “There are as many panic buttons on him as there are trackers. This is intentional, May.” Very intentional, indeed. . Where Tony had expected the map to hone in on some tall, innocuous building in Queens, he’s confused to see the virtual map spinning and settling on… Rockaway Beach? He’s about to pose the question to May when he catches the tail end of whatever she’d been saying.
“- today’s a Hoodie Day.” Her voice is soft. “I should have asked, but we were both running behind this morning.”
“May.” Tony’s voice is equally soft as he drops the StarkPad onto the seat beside him after shooting the coordinates up to the Happy’s nav system. He brings a hand up to rub tiredly at the crease between his eyebrows. It didn’t quite change anything, but it definitely added texture to the situation. “We’ve got his location, he’s safe. I’ll take care of it.”
After a quiet, resigned ‘ Let me know when you’ve got him’ the call ends and Tony drops his head against the back of his seat, letting the muffled sounds of traffic - and not so muffled sounds of Happy laying on his horn and swearing - wash over him.
Today’s a Hoodie Day.
Between the three of them - he, May, and Happy - it hadn’t taken too long to identify a particular pattern of behavior displayed by their Spiderling when things were, well, rough. Tony’s not entirely sure where the kid snagged the first (of three) hoodie- though he suspects it had been from one of the many nights Peter had spent at the Tower after a particularly bad (read: bloody) patrol that usually ended in Tony shoving Pete towards his master closet and telling him to change into something comfy and clean before meeting him back in the common area for food.
If a couple of his hoodies and shirts hadn’t made their way back to his closet… Well, Tony wasn’t going to say anything.
And when Peter had first bounded into the lab sporting one of Tony’s oldest MIT hoodies, he’d pointedly ignored the warmth and affection that washed through him because I don’t have to explain myself to you, Pep. How about that?
It had been an offhanded conversation at the Tower between May and Tony that lead them to wonder if there was a correlation between the hoodie Peter seemed to tuck himself into, somehow managing to look as though it were swallowing him whole, and the quiet, avoidant attitude that seemed to come with it.
Within a week the two of them had pulled Happy into a group chat that consisted almost entirely of sporadic messages saying: it’s a hoodie day. A simple heads up to the others that Peter was dealing with something he wasn’t sharing.
And while they - primarily May and Tony - oftentimes tried to draw out of Peter what was on his mind, more often than not it was used simply as a means to communicate how their SpiderKid was doing and when, maybe, it was a good idea to enforce the Movie Night Protocol rather than tinkering with volatile chemicals in the lab. This became increasingly handy as Peter spent more and more time with Tony at the tower (read: near daily, especially when May worked night shifts).
The hoodies were, according to May, a coping mechanism and, much like a small child might carry around a blanket, Peter used them as a source of comfort whenever he was feeling particularly low or insecure. More than that, it was likely he himself didn’t even realize there was a correlation.
There was a psychology behind why Peter’s comfort objects happened to be Tony's hoodies, but Tony was pointedly ignoring that line of thought because Emotions.
“Tuesday was also a Hoodie Day.” Happy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts and Tony pulls his eyes from the expanse of shoreline out the window and meets his friends eyes in the rearview mirror.
“He didn’t come down to the lab wearing the hoodie,” Tony frowns.
“He stripped it off before he made it to the car. Shoved it deep into his backpack.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s an edge of irritation in his voice that he tries to reign in. He’s not agitated with Happy. Well, maybe a little. But mainly, the whole situation has him deeply on edge.
“I think the kid is onto us. He’s becoming self aware,” Happy huffs, going for humor but falling short. “He obviously didn’t want us to know, and I was respecting that.”
“Softy,” Tony grumbles to himself, pulling himself up straight as they come to a not so smooth stop, Happy flipping off the driver in front of them. They’re at the beach in Queens. It’s… not grimy, but it is packed with more people than he’s comfortable with. It’s nearing summer, or at least nearing the end of the school year, and it looks like people are already eager to enjoy the atmosphere before it’s overrun with youths .
“You aren’t dressed for the beach.”
“I’m conspicuous, you mean.” Tony’s already stripping out of his suit jacket and pulling off his tie. “Why here?” he adds absently, pulling free one of Pete’s discarded ball caps that had wedged itself under Happy’s seat. “A city of skyscrapers and he chooses the beach.”
“A public one,” Happy says pointedly, turning in his seat just as Tony’s head snaps up to meet his gaze. “You stay, I’ll go.”
“You don’t think he’s-”
“Using that to his advantage? Absolutely.”
Tony scowls. “If that kid really thinks I won’t hunt him down in a public space when he pulls shit like this just because it’s public then he’s got another thing coming.” With that, Tony steps out of the vehicle, closing the door just shy of too hard, and pauses only when Happy barks his name.
“It’s a Hoodie Day, Boss. Not a rebellion.” Tony’s jaw clenches and then relaxes as he digs the heel of his hand into the space between his brows, wishing he could rub away the exhaustion he’s already feeling.
“Right,” he mutters, turning towards the beach. “Let Pepper know today’s the day.”
There, off towards the shoreline, sits Peter Parker. Tony still isn’t sure if he wants to ring the kids neck or pull him into a relieved hug. But, as he approaches, he takes note once again of the hoodie Peter’s sporting. Not the MIT one, but instead his old, customized and well worn, Stark Industries one. Tony isn’t oblivious to the few phones being pulled out and trained on him as he makes his way across the beach. That’s a problem for Future Tony.
“Little warm for a hoodie, don’t you think?”
“I run at a lower body temperature,” he mumbles. And though he doesn’t show much of an outward reaction, Tony notices the way the kid tenses up, caught off guard by his mentor’s presence. Further solidifying that he hadn’t expected Tony would take the plunge into the public eye like this.
“Not low enough to justify the hoodie. Why are you skipping school?” Tony’s slipping out of his shoes and kicking them up ahead towards Peter’s, stepping into his line of vision, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the kids face. Peter squints as he looks up at Tony, and where Tony expects wide eyes and a contrite expression, he is instead met with one that’s almost blank.
“Better question, how do you know I’m skipping school?”
Tony manages to sound nonchalant when he shrugs and says, “You mean other than it’s eleven in the morning on a Thursday? The school called.” He crosses his ankles, tugging up the fabric at his thighs and slowly lowering himself onto the sand beside Peter. Apparently this is what warrants an expression of surprise.
“The school… called you?”
“That’s what I said.” Tony bristles, just a bit, unsure as to why Peter would sound so incredulous given they see each other at least every other day at this point.
“But-”
“What, you don’t think I’m responsible enough to be a contact? Gotta say, kid. Kind of offended here,” he huffs, mocking a tone of self importance as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and begins to meticulously fold them back.
You can almost see the fuck it cross Tony's face right before he switches gears and haphazzardly pushes his sleeves up his forearms. “Listen, Pete. Let’s not make a thing of it. Your aunt listed myself and Happy - in that order, not that it’s a competition or anything - down at the school as secondary contacts. At least one of you thinks I’m worth contacting in an emergency.”
Tony raises a pointed eyebrow and Peter cringes, no doubt recalling last weeks incident in which Karen had woken Tony in the dead of night, despite Peter’s vehement protests, that Peter had been shot and was actively trying to dig the bullet out. At least now Peter has the decency to look guilty.
“Mr. Stark, about that-”
“Uhbup bup,” he puts a finger up between them, cutting Peter off. “I’m not going to let you derail this conversation. Why are you cutting school?”
“I’m not cutting school. ” Peter grumbles under his breath. He’s picked up an awkwardly shaped piece of driftwood and is drawing lazy shapes into the sand in front of them. Tony gives him about ten seconds to decide if that’s the extent of the excuse he’s going to give.
“Are you splitting hairs with me about something right now?” Tony pulls the cap off his head and tosses it out in front of him, playfully bumping Peter’s shoulder - ever the child - when it lands perfectly on his left shoe. He can sense Peter hesitating beside him and when he doesn’t offer anything up, Tony sighs before trying again in a gentler voice. “Pete, what’s going on? This isn’t like you.”
“They went on a field trip.” Peter is not subtle in the way he pointedly refuses to meet Tony’s gaze. For a hyperactive and fidgety kid, it’s concerning.
But, such is life on a Hoodie Day.
"Your aunt wouldn't sign the permission slip?" Absolutely not the case, as evident from the call he’s already had with May.
"She didn't know about the field trip." Peter is quiet as he absently stabs at the sand.
"I'm assuming there's a reason you've decided to cut class - sorry, a field trip - for the beach. You’re a smart kid, Pete. You know better than to think we wouldn’t find out. So c’mon kid, what gives?”
Peter’s sigh is weary, carrying with it a depth of exhaustion that confuses Tony. “The field trip is to Oscorp.”
The information catches Tony so off guard he huffs a laugh. God he loves this kid.
"In that case Kiddo, I can't even blame you. What a waste of school time and resources. I mean, really? I’m talking to Pep. We’re going to make sure your class is set up with a real industry leader.” Tony is all cautious grins and playful shoulder bumps as he roasts the competition.
It’s the very distinct lack of response on Peter’s part that pulls him from his cheer. He figured at the very least he would have goaded out of Peter some whining and complaint at the idea of having his whole class traipsing around the tower, bringing into play the very real possibility of him embarrassing Peter.
But instead, nothing. Tony reaches over and gently grips the wrist holding the stick. “Peter?”
Tony can feel Peter’s hand begin to shake as he pulls it from Tony’s grip and attempts to subtly wipe away a tear with his free hand. “I don’t suppose we could just not talk about this, could we? Can’t you just yell at me or something?”
Tony frowns, unsure of how to process this response. All the time they’ve spent together - all the hoodie day’s they’ve spent together - and Tony can’t recall any time that he’s seen Peter this somber. For a moment Tony considers whether or not he’s in over his head, fully aware that he’s on a runaway horse through uncharted territory at this point. Tony goes with his gut.
“We don’t have to talk about it, Pete. I can manhandle you back to the car and lecture you all the way back to Manhattan, but something tells me that it would somehow hurt you worse to do that. I think, Peter, that whatever it is, you probably want to talk about it.”
Peter dips his head and pinches high on the bridge of his nose, no doubt trying to stem the threat of tears.
“It’s embarrassing,” he finally mutters, softly, as if too loud a voice might break the control he’s fighting for. And though Peter can’t see it, Tony offers a small, sympathetic smile, hoping to offer some semblance of reassurance and encouragement to continue. Somewhere not too far off in the back of his mind Tony thinks about the changes soon to come- Thinks about how fast the media wheels must be spinning after having no doubt read the latest SI media release regarding the new high school internship program. Pepper, always three steps ahead of the game, has had the release tucked away for months, no doubt prepared for the inevitable.
“C’mon, Pete. My whole life is embarrassing. There’s no shame. Talk to me.”
To his credit, Peter sits up straight, inhales deeply and wipes his nose against the sleeve of his hoodie and says, “Today isn’t the first time Midtown has taken a trip to Oscorp.”
Instinctively, Tony almost quips back with, “well that’s a tragedy” but he stops himself. And there, in the back of his mind, something tells him that the phrase may be true in a very literal sense. Tony is, after all, a genius. It takes Peter continuing with a shaky, “the last time” for the gravity of the conversation to sink in. Tonys’ stomach drops and he inhales sharply as all the pieces slam together.
It’s enough to catch Peter’s attention and his sentence trails off unfinished as he turns towards his mentor, meeting his gaze with a sad, knowing look.
“It’s partly my fault,” he admits quietly. “I was distracted and the group moved on, not realizing I wasn’t in line with the others.”
“That’s not- Pete, that’s not your fault.” Tony’s eyes are trained unflinchingly on the waves that crash down not too far from their shoes, and he can’t help but to clench his hand against his thigh before relaxing it a couple of times in order to stem the anger that’s building in his chest. “Oscorp… That guide shouldn’t have moved on to a new area without doing a headcount. That is basic one oh one, kid. Their labs, much like SI, handle a lot of very dangerous materials. When you have kids, or adults for that matter, moving through an all access tour like that, you always ensure that you know where every person is at all times ."
He can’t even- Trust Norman Osborn to screw up something as simple as a field trip so monumentally. Tony’s already running through ways to bring Oscorp down once and for all - especially given the illegal genetic experiments happening within those walls - when Peter’s soft words cut through the cloud of ever increasing anger.
“The thing is, I can’t even complain, right?” Tony’s eyebrows furrow in confusion because yeah, he absolutely can complain. “I mean, look at me. I’m Spider Man . I protect Queens and I’ve saved lives and I’ve met you and you’ve done so much for me and it’s not that I’m ungrateful Mr. Stark, honest. I mean, I’m so glad that I met you and I would never-”
“Peter. Peter, relax. Take a breath. I know you didn’t- Listen, kid.” Finally Peter tapers off, running the back of his hand across his nose as he tries to take a slow, even breath. Tony thinks he’s about to witness a full-blown panic attack. “These things… They’re not always emotionally black and white. After Afghanistan, I pulled my shit together-”
"Did you though?" Peter interrupts quietly, with a weak attempt at a smirk Tony grins fondly and flicks him on the forehead.
“Okay, mostly together. But! It doesn’t mean that I don’t wish it hadn't happened. That I don’t look at myself in the mirror and try to convince myself I would have gotten my shit together some other way.”
He lowers his voice. “A lot of amazing things in my life came out of that cave. It doesn’t mean that I still don't have the occasional panic attack when I’m in the shower.”
It’s not really something he shares. Rhodey is perhaps the only one he’s opened up to in detail.
Surprisingly, no anxiety bites at him as the light in Peter’s eyes flicker when he makes the connection. The kid looks up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes and Tony blazes on.
“Peter, you can hate what happened to you at Oscorp and wish that it had never happened - and rightly so - without it translating that you also wish everything good that came out of it had never happened.”
When Peter looks away, picking at the skin of his left palm, his expression looks pensive but torn. It’s not an easy conversation, Tony knows that. It’s heavy and honestly a sentiment that even Tony still struggles with from time to time.
He hesitates for only a moment before wiggling a little closer to the kid and wrapping a warm arm around his shoulders.
“I care about you, Pete. But I wish you hadn’t taken that field trip to Oscorp. I am,” he pauses, looking for the right word before settling with, “infinitely fortunate to have you in my life, but I hate that it took you suffering the journey you did in order for us to get here. You can love and appreciate the destination and still hate the journey, Kiddo.”
But then, heard just nearly over the sound of waves as they crash against the sand at their feet, “Uncle Ben wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for Oscorp. Or, well. If it weren’t for me .”
Tony’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, head snapping back a bit as if he’d been struck. Of all the turns he thought this conversation might take… Tony is decidedly not prepared for a conversation of this nature, and yet.
As terrifying as it is, Tony doesn’t feel the need for flight . In fact, the surge of affection and fierce protectiveness that washes through him brings with it a feeling of invincibility- A confidence that he can wade into the depth of this burden without drowning. When he doesn’t immediately respond, Peter continues.
“After the change - they insisted I had the flu - things were really hard. My senses were off the charts. I struggled constantly to focus on any one person when I could hear everyone and everything within a two block radius. I spent the first week in near constant tears. I mean, just shifting in the bed was almost unbearable. Every day felt like a losing battle.” He goes quiet, lost in thoughts Tony can’t even begin to imagine. The things Peter must have heard in the heart of Queens…
"I didn't know how to handle it. Shit, I spent the first several days wide awake. How could I sleep with all of the noise around me? And God , I was hungry all the time. I didn’t know how to cope and I was too afraid to talk about it.”
He begins picking at an invisible string on the side of Tony’s pant leg. It’s breaking Tony’s heart. Peter had never offered up any information on the nature and transition period of the bite. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but he’d been rebuffed pretty pointedly each time he’d poke around at the topic. But now… Now it tumbled out of Peter without thought.
“I argued with May and Ben every day. They didn’t know what was going on with me and like I said, I was too afraid to tell them. The night Ben died, we’d all been arguing about some bullshit I honestly can’t even remember. It escalated though, and I remember storming out of the apartment. We were all just- We were all so mad .
I was already several blocks down by the time Ben started after me.” He takes a deep, shaky breath and shifts, burrows just a hair closer to Tony, as if doing so might shield him from whatever memory is being played out in front of him against a backdrop of ocean waves.
“Anyways. Ben wouldn’t have been shot that night if… Well.”
“Peter,” Tony breathes out quietly, for once at a complete loss for words.
“Yeah,” Peter huffs wryly, voice laced heavily with bitterness. “Fuck the journey, am I right?” Tony can’t help but agree, rubbing at Peter’s shoulder. Growing up, the only person who ever knew the right thing to say was Jarvis, and Tony would give anything to have Jarvis here right now. God, he’d even kill to have JARVIS here with him.
“I don’t,” he begins softly before pausing to take another deep breath. “I don’t think Ben blames you.”
“How would you know?” Tony’s heart breaks at the way Peter’s voice cracks; it has him looking up towards the sky, blinking away a wetness he hadn’t expected.
“Because, Peter. Ben loved you fiercely. He stepped out of that apartment to try and keep you safe.” Beside him, he can feel Peter’s body begin to shake once again.
“And he died for it,” Peter chokes out, folding in on himself. He pulls his knees tight against his chest and wraps his arms around them. Tony rubs soothing circles into his back, wishing they weren’t on this dirty, public beach.
He wants to drown the kid in a mountain of blankets and pillows and let him snort chocolate out of a bowl in front of the television until he sugar-crashes and sleeps for a week. He just- He just wants to protect Peter from every blow the world hurls at him. But, unfortunately, he can’t. So instead he settles with-
“And he would have done it a hundred times over if given the chance.”
“There is no way for you to know that, Mr. Stark,” he scoffs, dropping his forehead to his knees. Tony stops himself from brushing a hand through the kids' hair.
“I would do it.” At his words Peter turns his head towards Tony, though still avoiding his gaze. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d think Peter had tilted his head to hear him better. There’s confusion there in the way that his brows crease.
It prompts Tony to continue. “I would put myself in danger every day of the week to make sure that you were safe and uninjured. And I can guarantee you that Ben felt the same way.”
“I don’t want you to do that, Mr. Stark. I don’t want anyone to put themselves at risk for me.” Wet, teary eyes meet Tony’s and the man swallows thickly, realizing full well that he would make the sacrifice play for this kid.
“Well tough shit, kiddo. That’s what you do for people you love. You don’t think about the risk. You only think about the endgame. The destination . Ben didn’t care about what he might be stepping into because it didn’t matter . The only thing that mattered to your uncle that night was your safety.”
"But-"
“But nothing ,” Tony bites out, cutting him off a little harsher than intended. He takes a deep breath, finally giving in and resting a steady hand on the back of the kids head where he still has it rested against his knees. “I want you to think, Peter. Really hard. May might be in danger across town… You don’t know for sure, but there’s a chance she could be in danger. And there’s a chance, if that’s the case, that you could help her. What do you do?” As expected, Peter groans.
“Mr. Stark-”
“Humor me, Peter.” The kid sighs.
“You know what I would do,” he admits quietly, defeated, already knowing where the conversation is headed.
“I know that,” Tony brushes a lazy hand through the mess of curls before settling warm and steady at the base of Peter’s neck. “But I want to hear you say it out loud.”
"I'd put my suit on without a second thought." It's nearly a whisper.
“Of course you would, Underoos. Imagine you’re making your way through the city and, by pure chance , you run out of web fluid mid swing. You plummet towards the ground with no chance of survival. Would-”
“But that’s not realistic, Mr. Stark. Not after the bite.”
“Hey, what did I say about humoring an old man?” Peter sighs, resigned once more. “Would you blame May for your decision to go after her?” Peter abruptly tears away from Tony and pushes himself to his feet.
“This is a bullshit scenario.”
“It’s not about the scenario , Pete. It’s about the sentiment.”
“But it’s different , Mr. Stark! You aren’t getting it, okay?” He’s gesticulating wildly, arms sweeping out as if to encompass something that should be there but isn’t. He runs the back of his sleeve across his nose again and Tony can see tears fall as Peter vehemently tries to argue his direct hand in Ben’s death.
As subtle as he can, Tony glances over his shoulder, sighing in relief to find it empty.
Harold Hogan, Ladies, Gentleman, and Knights.
Peter’s voice pulls his attention. “I ran out because I was angry. Because I couldn’t get my shit together and because I started a fight with them. If I hadn’t of been such a- Such a-” Peter lets out a half sob, this time running the back of his arm across his face before digging the heel of his hand into his eye, as if he might rub away the emotion.
Peter’s shaking as he pulls himself up straight. He’s got one hand on his waist as he looks out over Tony’s head to the broad expanse of now empty beach, other hand covering his mouth, failing to hide the way his chin quivers.
“Are you telling me,” Tony begins slowly, voice carefully measured, “that if you had been angry with May for whatever reason before running after her, your dying thoughts would be that she’s to blame?”
“Of course not!” Peter looks horrified at the thought alone and Tony finally pulls himself to his feet.
“Then why aren’t you affording Ben that same courtesy?” When Peter drops his head into his hands, he has to fight not to step forward and pull the kid into a hug. Right now, the kid needs space.
“I don’t- It’s complicated.” The pain in Peter’s voice is palpable, and Tony can only imagine how tight the kids chest must feel right now.
Tony spent decades hating himself for the last conversation he had with his parents… Had somehow managed to convince himself that his mother’s final thoughts were how she wished he had said a proper goodbye. When the reality of the situation is that some of her final thoughts were more likely in line with hoping he were safe.
“You’re right, Pete. It’s very complicated. But you know what isn’t complicated? That Ben loved you without condition. That he loved you with his whole heart and absolutely would not want to see you blame yourself for his death.
Tony continues. “Could you imagine if, God forbid, something happened to you and rather than thinking of you and remembering the love you had for her, May instead thought he must blame me, because I definitely blame myself ? Ben wouldn’t want a sentiment as poisonous as that floating around in that brilliant head of yours. Don’t do that to yourself, Pete. Don’t blame yourself for a decision he made.”
The silence that hangs between them is heavy, deafening, in a way. Tony begins to wonder if Peter had tuned him out somewhere along the way. That is, until Peter’s expression cracks and a sob rips from him, the sound cutting right through Tony’s heart.
He can sense it before it happens, lurching forward just in time to catch Peter as his legs give out. With a quiet “ fuck ” he manages to ease Peter onto the ground, moving himself to sit beside the kid.
“Pete,” he says softly, brushing the curls at the base of his neck, watching as Pete once again wraps his arms around the knees he’s got pulled tight against his chest. He leans heavily against Tony’s side as sobs wrack through his body. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d say Peter might throw up. But he doesn’t.
A minute passes, and then another, and another, until Tony’s lost track of time. As Peter sinks heavier and heavier against Tony’s side, he can’t help but think about how healthy this is. It’s a cry he is very familiar with- One that you find yourself in need of from time to time. That deep seated cathartic cry that drains everything you have left in your body until you feel hollow of all emotion and yet somehow when you wake the next day, things don’t seem quite as bleak.
It’s healing, in a way.
In fact, this may be the first time Peter has truly let himself mourn his uncle's death- Or at the very least, mourn his death without deep seated guilt wrapped up in it.
While he can feel the exhaustion seeping out of his kid, he doesn’t suspect Peter will be done with the tears anytime soon.
Tony’s got time though. For Peter, he’s got all the time in the world.