Work Text:
Peter had been sitting at his desk for nearly three hours, working on some Algebra work since he had finals next week. Every time he felt overworked and frustrated, he'd remind himself to breathe and take a walk to calm himself down. And then sometimes he would let his frustration take over and would oftentimes punch a wall and let himself cry, which felt good at the time, but then he'd feel ashamed, because God, that's embarrassing!
He had been attempting to do a word problem for the past five minutes, spinning around his rolly chair in the process. He looked at his notes, yet he still didn't know how to do it. It felt like a different language! He groaned, throwing his notebooks off the desk, covering his face.
Keep it together, Peter. It's just stupid math, don't cry.
But of course, that just made his tears flow quicker. He needed to get out. He wanted to scream, punch something, anything! And most certainly, he didn't want Tony Stark to see him like this.
He could ask him for help. Tony specifically said that if he needed help, he was just a call away. But he didn't like asking for help. He'd just wallow in the confusion and the frustration that came with schoolwork.
The most he would do was ask Mr. Stark for help, but he didn't want to bother him more than he already did. And asking anybody else, a teacher, a classmate, anybody else was off the list. Sometimes he would just be even more confused since his brain wasn't paying enough attention, and he would forget what was taught to him almost instantly, so to not risk looking stupid, he just never asked for help.
He quickly went to his bed where he had set down his suit and put it on, and in a minute, he was out the window, shooting webs like his life depended on it.
There was a railroad track up ahead and a train passing by full speed. Perfect. He settled near it and let out a scream. He closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears to protect them from the noise. He kept screaming, letting it all out. Everything that Algebra had made him feel. That life made him feel.
He fell to his knees, and he felt oddly better. He sat there for a bit, relishing in the breeze, and suddenly he heard FRIDAY say, "Mr. Stark wants to speak with you."
Peter sighed, knowing what was coming.
"Let him on." He responded.
"Kid, you've got me worried. FRIDAY just told me you were stressing out, and you weren't in your room."
"I'm fine, Mr. Stark. I just needed some air." His voice croaked.
"Kid, are you ok? You sound like hell."
"I'm fine." He repeated. "I'll get there as soon as I can."
"As soon as you- Where the hell are you?" He yelled.
"Uh, I'll tell you as soon as I get there. FRIDAY end call."
He was only five minutes away from Stark Tower, but right now, he was exhausted, so it'd probably take him more time to get there.
As expected, it took him ten minutes to get there with a minor drawback of not remembering where the tower was.
When he webbed into his bedroom from the window, he stumbled back as he saw Tony already in his room.
"Kid, where were you? You had me worried. I-" He stopped as he saw Peter's eyes, red and swollen. "Have you been crying?"
He automatically raised his hand to his eyes as if that would help ease how swollen they were. "No, I-"
"Did someone make you cry?"
Peter scoffed. "If you could Algebra as a person, then yeah."
His face softened. "Oh, kid, you know I'll help you with your homework if you ask. I know you don't like asking for help, but I'm here. I'm Tony stark. You pal. "
"I know, but-"
"No buts. I don't care if I have work to do, I will drop anything to help you." He said. "Especially if what I'm working on is boring."
Peter looked at his feet, muttering, "Algebra is boring."
"Can't be more boring than my thing."
"What's your thing?" He immediately perked up.
"Come on, kid. I know this is an attempt to distract me." He went over to his desk and gestured to the papers scattered around. "Let's see it."
Peter sighed, grabbing his notebook.
"Would it be ok if I went up to the ceiling?" He sheepishly asked. "It helps me concentrate a bit more."
"Yeah, whatever helps, kid."
Even if it was a little bit weird.
He crawled onto the ceiling, and Tony took Peter's sheet from his desk. He helped him with the problem he'd been stuck on, little by little helping him out.
Soon Mr. Stark had helped him through all the questions in his study guide with encouraging words and the patience he only happened to maintain at times like these.
It was late now, 11 PM, and Tony had helped him through half of another unit. They ended up on the couch after eating a late-night snack, and Peter couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. His head toppled over to his mentor's shoulder, which made Tony smile.
He loved every bit of bonding time he had with Peter, even if it was helping him with boring old Algebra. He cherished these moments in his heart and would always help his kid with anything.
Tony's eyes bobbled closed and before he had the chance to stop it, he was fast asleep, Peter by his side.