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"Good morning, Peter. It is currently 9:24 in the morning. Today's forecast has a low of 80 degrees and a high of 102."
Peter turns over in his bed, drool adhering his lip to the fabric of his pillow. He wrinkles his nose and starts rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Sounds gross."
"I would agree with you. I do also have to tell you that Boss is planning to have a family day outdoors. In this weather."
Eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of his room, Peter sits up and blinks a couple times to clear the lightheadedness. His father's been obsessed with quality family time ever since the Snap has been reversed. Or maybe since before then. Peter can't know. He had been dead.
"Of course, if you strongly objected, I'm sure that Boss wouldn't mind relocating indoors..." FRIDAY trails off.
But Peter can't object, can he? It's not his place. Morgan, Tony, and Pepper have spent five years cultivating this perfect little family in this perfect little lake house, and who is Peter to storm in and break up all of their traditions? Besides, Morgan loves the outdoors, and Peter loves seeing his sister so happy. He's always wanted a little sibling, though he wishes he could have been around to have seen her from ages one through four.
Peter sniffs harshly, a habit he's picked up from his father. "No. That's fine. I can get through a little heat. Er, is everyone else up already, FRIDAY?"
"Pepper and Morgan are watching Morgan's favorite television program and Boss has yet to arise."
At least Tony's sleeping habits haven't changed. Smiling a little to himself, Peter hops out of bed and wiggles his toes into his soft rug. That's one thing that Tony had brought over from the Tower - Peter's favorite rug. It's a little thing that makes the unfamiliar cabin feel almost like home, and he's glad that Tony thought of it. Then his mood abruptly darkens, homesickness for the Tower dawning on him.
"Peter?" FRIDAY says softly. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine."
"Perhaps we should relocate -"
"No, FRI, I already told you that I can deal with it. So, er, Pepper and Morgan already ate breakfast?"
"They are the early risers of the family, but I am sure that Pepper would not mind preparing another batch of pancakes for you. Chocolate chip, of course."
Peter smiles.
He's still not entirely sure of his place in this new family. If there's even any room for him at all, for that matter. But one constant will always be FRIDAY. The way he prefers his pancakes is permanently embedded between lines of eternal code. Nothing can bury that.
It's not that he's jealous of Morgan, though - far from it. He loves her to death, and is happier beyond belief of her existence. This also isn't about the wedding he missed, or even the new Alpaca that's joined the Stark family.
It's just Peter's head. It's all just stuck in his head. But if that's true, then it's stuck with a big ol' bucket of Super Glue.
--
"Who's that?" Pepper calls from her position on the sofa. With his enhanced hearing, Peter hears the low noise of her thumb pushing a button on the remote.
"It's, uh, Peter," he responds, and he can't help but feel like it's a disappointment.
Pepper's reaction certainly contradicts this fact, though.
"Oh, Peter!" She stands up and brushes off her jeans, heading to the stairs to wrap her son-in-law in a warm hug. Pepper gives magnificent hugs, Peter's learned, and they fill a hole he's never realized existed.
"Petey!" Morgan echoes, right on her mother's tail. She fruitlessly tugs on the woman's pant leg for a little while, before giving up and launching herself into Peter's arms. He catches her easily, just a little startled. "Mommy, can you make Petey a batch of waffles?"
Pepper laughs. "Do you want waffles, Little Miss?"
When Morgan nods shyly, Pepper just shakes her head, amused, and carries the girl over to the kitchen. Peter means to ask for some pancakes - he really does. The words just die on his tongue.
Instead, he grabs a box of cheerios from the pantry and swallows down the bland cereal without complaint. Morgan deserves her waffles; she's only five. Peter's a teenager. He can manage his own meal.
Besides, he's not even all that hungry after a couple handfuls, so he refastens the box and puts it back in its place.
"Peter? Do you need anything?" Pepper asks.
He does. He does need a couple things.
"I..." There's a lot that he can say, and it would feel like he was lifting Mount Everest off of his shoulders.
But before he can, he catches sight of a framed picture on the wall. It's of Pepper and Tony looking into a newborn Morgan's eyes for the first time. It's an almost majestic photo.
When Peter was born, Tony was half-drunk and came bumbling through the hospital with a bundle of garish, semi-deflated balloons. Sure, their relationship has grown from there, and sure, maybe he's being unfair, but...
The differences are astounding, and Peter feels the cheerio in his stomach toss and turn angrily.
It's still not jealousy. It's just sadness.
He's a burden, and he's been one since birth, and the least he can do is not disrupt the great thing they have going without him.
So he says, after a pause: "No thank you, Pepper."
The lie is bitter and it almost sends the Cheerios up for good.
--
It's past noon when Tony wakes up, but no one complains. It's part of his charm.
"Where is my favorite young adult?" Is the first thing he says upon descending the stairs, and Peter feels something inside of him light up.
"Hi, Dad."
"Good morning, buddy." Tony walks through the kitchen and pulls Peter into his arms, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of his head.
The hug is warm, comforting, and it's everything Peter needs right now. It's everything Tony needs right now, too, so they stay glued together for a little while. The love in Peter's chest is overflowing, palpable.
"Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty," Pepper says with a smile.
Tony sheepishly pulls away from the embrace and gives his girlfriend his wife a sheepish grin, plus a kiss on the lips.
"And where is my Maguna?"
"Here, Daddy!" Morgan chirps, slamming into the backs of his legs with the force of a five-year-old.
"I don't see her! Where is she?"
"I'm right here!" Morgan screams again.
"Hmmm... could she be under the table?" Tony pulls up the tablecloth and exaggeratedly searches underneath it. He sets it back down with a shake of his head. "What about... through the window?"
"No, that's Gerald!" Morgan's doubled over with laughter and Peter can't help but join in. Her laughter really is contagious. Soon, the whole family's in stitches, gasping for oxygen in the best way possible. The joke is dumb and overused, but the moment is one of joy. Laughter builds on laughter until all that's being laughed at is the laughter itself.
And in those moments, everything feels somewhat normal. Good, even. But then the laughter dies down, and Peter's still sitting in a different kitchen, wearing a different pair of socks, and looking at different, five-years-older faces.
"Daddy, do you see me now?" Morgan asks, tapping him on the wrist.
"Ohhhhh, there you are, Magoodles." Tony sweeps Morgan up and kisses her cheek over and over again, sending the girl into another fit of giggles.
"Boss, there is a heat advisory for today," FRIDAY interrupts. "I would suggest -"
"Nah, we'll be fine. Right, everyone? Have a nice fun day outdoors?"
Pepper just shakes her head fondly and Morgan cheers as loud as she can, so who is Peter to decline? Tony glances anxiously at him, though, like he can feel Peter's apprehension.
"Pete? We can stay inside if you want to. Play some board games. Morgan could draw the next Picasso with her new crayons."
"No! I - I mean, if everyone else wants to go out, I don't - I don't really, like, I dunno. Whatever."
Tony furrows his brow and sets Morgan down on the floor. "Everything okay, Roo?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Okay, bud. You know that if that ever changes, you can come talk to me, right? I'm here for you. Always."
Peter does know this. It's just sometimes a little hard to remember it when he needs to.
"Yeah. Thanks, Dad."
Smiling, Tony rustles Peter's neatly gelled down hair, evoking a loud, teenager-y groan.
"Can we go out and play already?" Morgan whines.
Peter wishes he could be angry at her for interrupting the moment, but she's five. Five year olds aren't known for their incredible attention spans.
"Once you put on your sunblock," says Pepper.
A bottle of the stuff lies on the floor by Peter's feet, and he kicks it gently. Morgan rolls her eyes as it falls down with a clatter.
"Daddy -"
"Oh no, don't think Daddy's getting you out of this one." Pepper bends down to pick up the suntan lotion and taps her manicured fingers against the plastic exterior.
From the way Tony cringes, Peter figures that Tony has, in fact, gotten his daughter out of a similar situation, with a not-so-great outcome. It probably did happen. There were five years for it to happen.
"Pete, sunblock for you too. You can use the spray stuff if you'd rather."
"What - Dad -!"
"Bup, bup, bup, Pete, I just lost you for half a decade, I'm not going to lose you again to skin cancer. Sunblock. Now."
It's a bit dramatic, but definitely consistent. Tony's been even more overprotective than usual lately. So, even though his enhanced healing has always taken care of sunburns in the past, Peter heads out to the porch without any more protest.
While taking this unnecessary precaution, the harsh fumes cause Peter's enhanced senses to go haywire, stuffing up his lungs and stinging his eyes. The stickiness doesn't do too well over his sensitive skin, either, and all he can do is hope it doesn't give him a rash. Tony creaks open the front door just a few seconds after Peter's finished, taking a deep breath of the fresh air and sighing contentedly.
"Hey, kid. Are you hungry? Pep said you just had some cereal for breakfast."
Peter rubs at his eyes and blearily blinks them open. It hurts. He keeps them open anyway.
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine."
"Okay, so you're not fine," Tony retorts, and Peter doesn't know how he knows that. "Is something wrong, buddy?"
"Just, er, the sunscreen. It got in my eyes a bit."
"Aw, kid." Tony hurries over to Peter and takes his face in his hands, calloused thumbs gingerly brushing the lids of Peter's eyes. "I remember that one time I got sunscreen in your eye at the amusement park. We missed out on all of the rides because we were stuck in the medical office." Tony laughs humorlessly. "I wasn't such a good dad back then, was I?"
Peter doesn't remember this incident, so he just shrugs. It's no secret that Tony didn't get his Dad act together until Afghanistan, but Peter can't remember that far back. It's better that way.
"You're a really good dad," he adds, for good measure.
"Well, I have been decorated with many medals in the category." Tony takes a bottle and starts pouring a slight stream of water into each of Peter's eyes, shushing him before he can cry out. "Including such accolades as: 'Worlds Best Tickle Monster,' and 'Greatest At Feeding Gerald.' Pretty important, I would say."
Morgan must have made Tony a whole trophy case of awards by now. Peter's never done that. Should he have?
Tony finishes up his cleansing process and taps Peter on the bicep.
"Feel better, kiddo?"
It does feel better, only Peter chooses not to mention the stuffy sensation in his chest, or the tingling feeling all over his skin. Those are hardly reasons to hold up the day's activities.
"Y-Yeah. Thank you. And, um, you're definitely the best Dad, by the way. Like, I - I could make you a medal if -"
Tony chuckles. "Pete, relax. When you were Morgan's age, you would bring me home a shiny rock you found in the playground every single day. Do you remember what you would say to me?" Peter shakes his head. "You would say that you wanted to show me that you thought of me every day. It was really fucking cute, kid. I definitely didn't deserve it."
Blushing, Peter starts to stammer out a response, but is stopped by Tony's finger pressing down over his lips.
"I'm just trying to say - please don't compare yourself to Morgan, Roo. It's a parent's job to give to their children, not the other way around, and you've still given me plenty. You've given me the world, kiddo. You're just as important to me as she is, and I love you two equally. So whatever is going around in that big brain of yours, it's not true. Yeah?"
Peter isn't fully sure what Tony's getting at, but he smiles anyway and nods at the ground. He knows that his father loves him as much as Morgan - he's never doubted that for a second. But Pepper, Tony, and Morgan have been a family for five years, and Peter can't just magically insert himself back in there. It's not that easy.
Tony doesn't notice Peter's internal turmoil, though, and claps a strong hand on his shoulder. "I know you don't love the water ever since..." Tony swallows hard. Peter knows that his father still blames himself for everything that happened with the Vulture. "We've got one of those inflatable kiddie pools that Morgan just loves. Do you think that would be okay, just to cool off a bit? We can throw around a frisbee or something instead -"
"No," Peter interrupts. "No, I'm cool with whatever."
Tony doesn't seem convinced, but he doesn't protest. "Okay. How about you grab your swim trunks and meet us in the backyard, hm?"
"Yeah, sure."
--
Once Peter's finished changing, he hurries down the stairs and throws open the back door. Tony, Pepper, and Morgan are already in the pool, laughing and splashing one another. Even Gerald's there, hmmming along. Peter scrubs a self-conscious hand down his elbow and stares at his toes, already burning red under the hot sun.
"Pete!" Tony exclaims. Peter glances over and finds Tony grinning and waving over an invitational hand.
"Uh, I'm not too hot. I think I'll stay in the sun for a little while."
He feels a deep shame at it, but even the shallow water of the kiddie pool is giving him anxiety. It is, no doubt, the most extravagant model on the shelves - decked out with multiple slides as well as some spray feature that they haven't yet turned on. Really, the water wouldn't come up past his thighs, but Peter knows how excited Morgan can get and he wouldn't be able to say no if she asked him to dunk his head underwater for whatever reason.
That would end horribly.
"Okay, bud." Tony scoops up some of the bright blue water and splashes it over his legs. "If you change your mind, there's plenty of room in here."
"Daddy, watch, I'm going to go down the slide!"
Tony casts one last reassuring look at Peter before redirecting his attention to Morgan.
There's no telling how long Peter sits there, in the Adirondack chair, watching the rest of his family enjoy themselves. He doesn't blame them - not at all. They've extended multiple invitations. There have even been a few times when Peter strongly considers accepting, but then his anxiety rears its ugly head and he finds himself firmly adhered to the seat. Though that could just be the sweat.
The day grows hotter and hotter and Peter grows lonelier and lonelier. There are points where his vision blurs away and then evens out a few moments later. Not by any means ideal, but it fades, so Peter doesn't really pay it any attention.
A blazing, unforgiving sun continues to beat down on the lake house until Peter's swim trunks stick to the backs of his legs and sweat mixes with the pomade in his hair. It's disgusting. Peter has never been one for the heat.
He's debating giving up and just heading back inside to the AC when Tony abruptly stands up and climbs over the edge of the inflatable pool, dripping all over the soil and the grass as he walks over to Peter.
"Is everything alright?" he asks, sitting down by Peter's feet with a quiet groan. "You've been pretty quiet all day. It's unlike you, Underoos."
The world spins beneath Peter's eyelids, his stomach swirling and his head pounding. Heat dashes at his skin, and he can taste the individual taste buds on his tongue. Everything and yet nothing rushes through his mind. And then he's staring back down at his reddened feet, the same blades of grass clenched between the same toes. He still feels a little off, a little shaken, but the worst of it has passed.
Licking his lips, Peter responds: "Yeah. Just hot."
"Come take a dip in the pool, then. It won't even reach your hips."
Peter shakes his head sadly at his feet. "I don't really want to."
"Okay, well, remember when I told you that I wanted to have a family day today, buddy? A family day. You know that includes you, right?"
In theory? Yes. In practice -
"Sure, sure, yeah, sure. I - I know that, obviously."
"Petey. I lost you for five years. It feels like I'm losing you again. Talk to me, buddy. What's going on?" Tony reaches up and takes Peter's hand in his, rubbing a finger over Peter's knuckles.
There's nothing going on, though - that's the worst part. Peter feels so off but he doesn't know why.
"Just a lot of stuff happening," he ends up muttering.
"Well, if you don't want to go in the pool, how about we switch gears and throw a ball around, hm? Sound fun?"
It does sound fun, but Peter doesn't want to intrude -
"Kid. Just to be clear - I'm not asking about what you think they think sounds fun. I'm asking you if you think that sounds fun."
Swallowing the knot in his throat, Peter nods shyly. "Uh, yeah. It does."
Tony's grin is so large that it's got to hurt his jaw.
--
Morgan's hand-eye coordination could use some work, so Pepper and Morgan end up staying in the pool while Tony and Peter toss around a football a few feet away. While he'd enjoy it either way, Peter is sort of happy that he gets to have a little one-on-one time with his father. Before the Snap, it was really just them - and Pepper and Rhodey occasionally. Having a younger sibling, no matter how excited he is about it, is an adjustment, and he hasn't had much time to adjust.
The football spirals through the air and Peter's spidey-senses allow him to catch it easily. Tony laughs.
"Lordy, remember when we tried doing this before the bite?"
Yes, yes he does. It usually ended with a visit to the Med-Bay. Various examples include a broken nose, a broken thumb, and a twisted ankle. Peter didn't have the greatest reflexes.
"Yeah, yeah, old man. You have a weak throw." Peter shoots the ball back through the air, and Tony grabs it against his chest with a low oof.
"You're a little shit."
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
Peter inhales, tasting the salt of his sweat. His consciousness is draped over the rhythmic thumping of the ball, and all else is blurred out. He feels the leather of the ball on his fingers, smells the chlorine of the pool, breathes in the sweet and fresh air. But it's all feeling vague. Dulled. It's fine, though. He's fine.
"I hope Morgan inherits our sense of humor."
"I hope she doesn't!" Pepper calls out.
That's fair. Their sense of humor is a bit dark.
"Mommy, I want to play with Daddy and Petey!" Morgan yells.
"I thought we decided that we wanted to stay in the pool, honey?"
"No! I want to play catch!"
While Pepper starts a round of mental gymnastics that is arguing with Morgan, Tony just chuckles to himself and spirals the football through the air.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
The world darkens and makes Peter stumble a bit, but he catches himself on his heel just in time. The ball whizzes toward him and his arm instinctively shoots out to grab it, using its stickiness to catch it.
"Kiddo? Everything okay?"
Tony starts walking over, so Peter hurries to dismiss the man's worries. "No, no - I - don't even worry about it, Dad, I'm fine. And, er, are you sure you don't want to play in the pool with Morgan? I feel like -"
"Yeah, kiddo," Tony sighs, an air of despair about him. "I want to do this with you."
"O-Okay, then."
Peter picks the ball back up and throws it weakly, letting his super strength take over and propel it with a massive curve through the air.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
Catch. Throw. Thump.
Catch. Throw. Th -
This time, it's a heavier darkness. One that presses down on him and completely blacks out his vision. He can be floating in any time, any space, any reality, and it would all be the same. Then there's a faraway pain in his elbow, covered by the rich void that engulfs his mind.
In no time at all, or perhaps quite a bit of time, Peter opens his eyes and notes three distinct things.
There's the bright blue sky, nary a cloud to be seen. The sun is shining stronger than ever, beating down without an ounce of mercy. He starts to regain control of his faculties, and feels the heat on his skin.
Then there's the blood on his elbow, and the red-tinged grass around it. Glancing around, Peter finds the source of the injury - a sturdy boulder just a few paces away. The injury throbs with an agonizing pain, but it's no agonizing pain that Peter hasn't felt before.
And then, of course, are the three pairs of eyes glancing worriedly down at him - one startlingly blue and the others a rich, dark brown. They're all huddled around him - Tony right by his side, hand brushing gently against Peter's cheek; Pepper not far behind, rubbing Morgan's back with one hand and Peter's knee with the other; and then Morgan, a trembling, sniffling mess, half of her face pressed against Pepper's shoulder, her shoulders bobbing up and down, and the other half glancing curiously at him.
"Peter? Are you back with us? Pete?"
Peter wants to say a few things.
He wants to tell everyone that he is fine. That they should go back to whatever they'd been doing.
He wants to tell Morgan that his elbow barely even hurts.
He wants to tell Tony that it's really just a scratch, and that he's ready to go back to throwing around the football.
But Peter doesn't end up lying, and instead promptly keels over and expels every last thing inside his stomach. The acid burns his throat as it comes up, tastes nasty on his tongue, but Peter is just feeling the dizzying nausea - the threat of another episode looming over him. There's a hand on his back and he latches onto it, letting the tactile feeling ground him.
There isn't too much inside of Peter's stomach, but he's gagging up air for several minutes before the pain finally ceases. It's such a relief when it does that Peter immediately collapses (onto the grass this time, thankfully) and shuts his eyes, simply breathing and exhaling for a little while.
This time, when he opens his eyes, there's just one pair of eyes, but it's looking a lot more worried than it did before.
"Buddy?" Tony asks gently, wiping some of the bile away from Peter's lips. "How about a mint, hm?"
--
They go inside and Peter accepts one of the cinnamon candies that Tony offers. It's chalky and leaves a few streaks of white on his fingers even after he pops the tiny thing into his mouth. While it is small, it's powerful, and the sweetness and spiciness quickly spreads over the acidity and bitterness. Peter hums happily, averting his eyes from his father's. Tony notices this.
"Jesus, Pete. You've been baking out there in 100 degree weather and you didn't think to have a drop of water?" Peter feels his face burn, despite the sunblock. "It's - God. It's alright, bambino. Let's just get some liquid in you, okay?"
There's no use in protesting, even though Peter's stomach is ready to rebel at the thought of putting something in there, so he starts drinking the cool water slowly, letting it trickle down his throat. And, yeah. Yeah. It feels good.
Maybe he should have drank. Oh well.
"You could have told me if you were thirsty, kid. Have I... Have I done something to make you think -"
"No!" Peter immediately says, because Tony has done nothing but make him feel welcome in this new family. That's the problem, though. It is a new family. "No, Dad, I just - I didn't realize I was thirsty."
This, for once, is the truth. Peter's never been good about that kind of thing. 'That kind of thing' being self-preservation. Whoops.
"Jesus. Okay. Fine. Let me see your elbow, kiddo."
Once again, no use in protesting. Peter slides his arm over the table, cringing at the reminder of the pain there. It's mind-numbingly bad, sending white spots through his vision every now and again, but beside that, Peter can ignore it. He's really good at ignoring pain.
Then there's a flash of something that makes Peter gasp for breath. He feels every nerve in his body rage. His head spins, because it can't do anything else.
But it passes and Peter, yet again, opens his eyes to find his father. Yeah. Tony is always there. Always.
"All fixed, bud," Tony says, a steadying hand remaining on Peter's newly set arm. "God, I'm so sorry for that -"
"No, no, you had to. It feels a lot better now. Especially when I'm not expecting it to happen, it's good, you know?"
He takes another sip of water and sighs, sinking deep into his chair.
"Peter..." Tony begins, and Peter sits up ramrod straight. Tony never uses Peter's full name, and he's also speaking in that mournful tone Peter hates to the moon and back. It's awful and he's heard it far too many times. "I know there's so, so much wrong right now," Tony continues. "And I know we're both trying our hardest to get back to normal. But, buddy. You need to get out of your head. You are not a bother. You should not put your happiness on hold for Morgan's. This family is not complete without you. No matter how hard we tried, kid? It just wasn't right at all. And you're back now, and there is absolutely nothing else I need. Okay? Nothing. But here's the tricky part. You're not back. Not really. I know you too well, Roo. You're stuck in your head. We all want you back, Peter. It's not so easy, I know, but can I try? Can I try to help you out of there?"
Peter curls his fingers around one another. "Um. I guess we can, er, try?"
Tony physically relaxes at this, and he rubs Peter's wrist softly. "Thank you, Pete. Thank you. How about we start with - just tell me one thing that's been bothering you lately, yeah? That's been making you feel like you don't belong here."
There's a lot to choose from, so Peter decides to simply let his mouth run.
"It's - It's here, Dad. It's not home. Home is the city and the Tower and Midtown and my friends. I don't want to go on long hikes or try to catch a fish in the pond. I hate all of the bugs and it smells like oranges in the bathroom. And I just - I just..." Peter sighs and looks down at his swim trunks, spotted with grass stains. He takes another cautious sip of water before continuing, refusing to meet his father's gaze. "I know that you thought I was dead. And I don't blame you for moving on. I - I'm really glad you did, Dad, I just want you to be happy. But, I... I dunno. It kind of feels like I'm a guest here. Yeah... Yeah, that's it. A guest. Everyone's nice to me and all, but I still feel like... like I don't really belong."
That's the perfect metaphor, Peter decides, for what he's feeling. Finding it is freeing in a way, but it's also painful. Because he does feel like a guest. And he has no reason to.
"Kid..." Tony's voice is so heartbroken that it makes Peter's heart pang. This is exactly what he has been trying not to do - mess everything up. Stupid, stupid, stupid - "First of all, this is just temporary, kiddo. We moved out here because I couldn't stand being in the city without you. This was a nice breath of fresh air, and Morgan just loves it. But the Tower is our home. We thought that staying up here could be a nice break from all the stress you must be feeling, but we didn't even think... Pete, we're going back to the Tower in a month. Got a buyer lined up for Gerald and everything. That's where our lives are. But - and this bit is really important, Pete - my life was on pause until I got you back. I had Morgan and Pepper and I love them so much, but I never stopped grieving you. Never. I'm only back on track now that you're here again, bambino, only now."
Peter sniffles. It's a horrible thing to know that someone you care about was in pain because of you, but the news of the move has considerably calmed Peter's various anxieties.
"So, uh... we can really move back?"
"Yes! God, yes, Petey - we can move tonight if you'd rather. I'm such an idiot. I'm a fucking - Sorry. Sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry, buddy."
"Don't apologize, Dad... And, er, we don't have to move any earlier. I like it up here, it's just - weird. Really weird."
Tony huffs out a laugh. "It is certainly weird."
A silence descends upon the room, Peter's second confession hanging awkwardly between the two.
Tony finally breaks it.
"We don't need to figure this all out at once, Pete, but I need you to know - even if you don't internalize it - that you belong here. That you are wanted. That you are every bit a member of this family as any of us are. Maybe moving back to the Tower will help, maybe the cabin was an absolute shit idea on my part, but all that I really care about, kiddo, is that you know how much we all care about you."
"I know that, it's just -"
"If you ever need anything, I will be so happy to help you out. You can ask me to hide a body and I will, no question."
"So you'd be happy if I asked you to hide a body?"
"Delighted."
Peter snorts and fidgets with the drawstring on his trunks. "I guess I know all of that, it's just - just hard to remember lately."
Tony sighs and wraps his arms around Peter's midsection, his scratchy goatee tickling Peter's cheek as he rests his head on Peter's shoulder.
"I know, buddy. But we'll keep at it until it's not."
--
It's a promise, Peter learns, and he knows by now that Tony Stark has never broken a promise.
That doesn't change with this one, either.