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Water wept from the skies, kissing and smacking upon every surface that it possibly could, each drop competing to see who could splash with the biggest impact. It was a steady stream of competition, each drop pelleting with more force than the previous one.
Though, no matter how sad the being who controlled the skies and the seas was, the competition was no much for the tears of Peter Parker. He lay strewn across the bed that he dubbed his room whenever he would stay overnight (or any time really), face buried in the sheets with the warmest blanket his skin has ever known hugging his back.
He sniffled, not caring about the snot that left his nose or the fact that he probably looked and sounded like a baby, too focused on why he had swung across New York from Queens to the Avengers Tower in his regular clothes, combating the thunderstorm both outside of him, within him, and the one that he had left behind.
Everyone had a knack for something. Escaping time and strategizing for justice. Having a wide range of emotions. Infiltrating enemy lines and yet somehow still being the softest Russian on Earth. Shooting all shots without even having to look. Smashing things down on the ground out of joy and exclaiming, “Another!” Being a genius, billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist.
And mine’s making everyone who’s ever loved me hate me.
The memory of what happened was as fresh as the wound it left behind.
Peter had been wanting to tell his aunt, May, that he had been Spiderman for some time. He meant to, but there had never been a perfect opportunity with his life and Parker luck. And when the rarity occurred and he had a window, he found himself backing out because he was too afraid to tell her.
It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. He found it easier to tell strangers aka the Avengers his secret but couldn’t work up how to tell his aunt. He had asked his mentor and best friend, Mister Stark (yep Tony with a Stark) whose advice was (for the first time ever), “Do what I did. Sit down with her, tell her that you love her, and have something on your mind. And then, just say it.”
That was three thousand times easier said than done. This was proof.
Peter didn’t like the rain. It had rained on the day when his parents’ plane had crashed. Rain thundered from the sky, taking Ben’s body with it. And now, the echo of rain pittering and pattering was the only thing combating the roar of Peter’s heartbeat as he asked May if they could talk.
May, carefree as a widow trying her best to move on, eagerly accepted, chipperness decorating her features while Peter was knotted up with worry.
“May, you know I love you, right?” The sixteen-year-old’s words were breathy and measured as if he had just overcome a stutter.
May’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, Peter, you know I do too. Why? What’s up?”
Step one done, the Avenger thought, one more to go. Just do it, that’s what Mister Stark said. The doe-eyed boy blurted, “I’m Spiderman,” as if that explained everything.
His words had a rippling effect, and Peter watched the carefree dissipate from May’s face. “What?” she asked, stiffening.
There’s no going back now, he thought as he repeated gently, “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while,” he looked down, “but I was too scared to. I’m Spiderman.”
“You can’t! How long? Why haven’t you said anything?” May was standing now, worry flushing on her cheeks as she proceeded what felt like an eternity of secrecy, as she shrieked, “All this time, you were lying to me? For how long?”
“Three years,” Peter admitted softly, panic beginning to blossom in his chest from May’s reaction. “I never meant to lie, I wasn’t ready to tell you yet. Mister Stark was helping me-”
“Helping you get killed?”
The inquiry was quiet, and yet spoke volumes.
A sour taste had filled Peter’s mouth. “No, I made this decision myself, he helped me so much, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Funny,” coughed the woman who no longer matched the aunt that Peter knew, “if only you told me sooner so I could’ve put an end to this. You can’t go out there, Peter, you’ll die! First Mary and Richard, my Ben,” she brought a hand to her face, “I can’t do this again!”
“May, let me explain,” her nephew offered gently, slowly rising.
“No.” May shook her head and water of her own dripped down the sides of her face. “Get out.”
The words were like a slap to Peter’s face. “What?” he asked softly, unable to believe how the person in front of him was the same one who preached unconditional love and how they always had each other’s backs.
“Five minutes. Get out!” she pushed Peter away as sobs overtook her.
Peter was left standing in confusion and heartache as his shoulders slumped and his feet took him to his room, the place that had been his for over eleven years. Water welled in his eyes and raced each other down to the floor, staining the carpet.
How could she?
He had trusted her to understand. Maybe not at first, but anything but this would’ve been okay.
And still, he packed the only two suitcases he had with his most favorite things. The briefcases, pieces of his uncle Ben wore down his heart even more. He couldn’t go back there and face May. He’d beg her to let him stay and knew that it was unfair.
Not as unfair as she had been.
“Kid?” An all-too-familiar voice gently called out, “What are you doing here?” Then came the stern voice, “ FRIDAY says that you’ve webbed yourself here, you know how I feel about that.” Tony stopped mid-sentence at the sight of the crying bundle in bed.
A fatherly switch overcame him as he crouched down, head meeting Peter’s closed, crying eyes. “Kid,” he prodded gently, running a hand through wet curls the color of chocolate, “tell me what happened?”
Peter shook his head, afraid that everything, including the pent-up sobs that sagged with him, would spill if he opened his mouth. He was Spiderman for crying out loud, he faced the eyes of death, betrayal, and evil and cried less then. He felt pathetic in front of his idol.
Tony let out a soft sigh as he bent his knees to stand. “Scooch over kiddo,” he nudged Peter.
“Mister Stark,” he warbled, voice betraying him. Not that it needed to, Tony had already seen the glistening shine on his face.
“Peter,” Tony volleyed back, crossing his arms. “You either move or I sit on you. Pepper says that I-”
“Gross,” cringed Peter, lazily flopping over.
Tony chuckled as he slid under the covers and pulled Peter atop of him. “Bud,” Tony prodded softly, using his thumbpads, “I want to help you feel better. I can’t do that without you telling me what’s going on, unfortunately, I haven’t designed a way to read people’s minds yet.”
Peter sniffed, pressing his cheek against the material of Tony’s sweatpants, “I told May.”
Tony immediately softened as he looked down at the sniffling kid on his lap. He began to put the situation together, but kept his ideas in mind, not wanting to jump to any conclusions that weren’t necessary. Despite this, he allowed himself to sympathize with whatever happened from the revelation, “Oh kid.”
The almost pity from the last person he’d ever want to pity him provoked Peter’s sniffles to escalate into sobs and before either Avenger knew it Peter had thrown his arms around the genius billionaire philanthropist’s neck and buried his face into the crook of the Avenger’s neck as muffled cries tore out of his throat for all to hear.
Tony accepted the weight, a hand moving to massage the back of Peter’s head while the other rubbed Peter’s back, “Let it out, bud, I’m here.”
“I thought she would understand,” Peter sniffed, fingers clenching into fists. “I thought I had her on my side.”
He wiped his nose with his sleeve before bawling, “She was so mad.”
“I’m sure she’s still there,” Tony offered helpfully, hugging the sobbing child in his arms. “She loves you, kiddo, I’m sure she’ll come around. Would you like me to talk to her?”
Peter shook his head, sobs increasing as he confided, “She doesn’t. She said that I shouldn’t be Spiderman and that I would get myself killed. I tried to explain that you were protecting me but she didn’t see it that way. She was upset that I had lied to her.” Through hiccups he managed to finish meekly, “She told me to leave.”
“Oh, kid,” Tony held the boy tiger, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head as the latter bawled, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I came here, I’m so sorry.”
“Hey,” started Tony seriously, “don’t apologize. I’m glad that you came here. I’m glad that you had a safe place to go to so you wouldn’t be cold and soaking. Okay?” He looked down at Peter, trying to get the teenager to maintain eye contact, “I would always prefer that you are somewhere safe and warm than alone and possibly in danger, you understand?”
Peter nodded, burying his head further against the man’s chest.
“And,” plaused Tony, sincerity dripping in every syllable, “I’m so sorry that May reacted like that. It must’ve been so hard for you to tell her, and I’m so sorry that she disappointed you.”
Peter wiped his tears before adding, “I was hoping that she would be proud of me. Trying to make things right, especially,” he sniffed, “after Ben. She said that she couldn’t lose anyone again.” His voice was pinched before wavering and giving in to another round of sobs.
Tony carded chocolate-colored curls, pressing his calloused hands against tear-stained cheeks, “Bud, I’m proud of you, okay? We can’t please everyone all the time, and I’m sure that deep down, she is proud of you. And if she’s not, then that’s okay.”
“How?” It was a desperate, child-like question that was rooted so deeply in Peter that he felt like he would suffocate in finding its answer. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“Because you have me,” the Avenger promised, lightly smiling down at the child in his arms. “I’m here for you, Peter Parker, you understand?”
Peter nodded.
Reassurement shone in the elder man’s irises, “I will be there for you every single step of the way. I’ll talk to May, alright?”
Peter would’ve smiled under different, pleasanter circumstances. “Really?”
Tony nodded, “Really. Get some rest, Iron Man’s going to save the day.”