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Maybe it wasn’t so bad.
Yeah, Skip had been really bad, but maybe it was just because he hadn’t seen it coming. He’d been too young and naive and just hadn’t understood what was going on. At all. He’d thought they were friends but clearly, it had been something else for Skip entirely.
He’d thought that he and Mr. Stark were friends as well, but the way that he was looking at Peter right now clearly indicated otherwise. None of his friends had ever looked at him like that.
Peter flushed.
“I’m- I’m okay, Mr. Stark, honest. It’s- it’s fine.”
“Kid, you’re- you’re literally gushing blood right now. You’re not fine.”
“I think that gushing is a bit of an over-exaggeration,” Peter murmured, pressing his fingers against the wound before bringing his hand back down to see the blood coating it. “It’s just bleeding a little.”
Mr. Stark made a noise of both frustration and disbelief. “You need stitches.”
“No thanks,” Peter said, not liking the idea of having a needle sewing his forehead together one bit.
“It’s not an offer, kiddo, it’s a fact. Come on, we’re going to the Medbay.”
“Mr. Stark! I- I don’t- want-”
And then he was looking at him like that again. And Peter never did seem to have a choice.
***
Where was he again? Oh, yeah, Skip… Skip used to take him out for ice cream with his allowance money, and Skip had been bad. He already said that, didn’t he? Well, driving the point home, Skip was bad. Definitely didn’t act like a foster brother should, but then, Peter only knew that now. At the time all that he knew was that he’d been homesick and lonely, and Skip wanted to be friends. They were brothers, by technicality of the state, so it was all fine. He wasn’t stranger danger, he wasn’t a grown-up, he was older but he was still just a kid like Peter.
They had been friends.
***
“Peter, this is Dr. Cho. Dr. Cho, Peter.”
Peter offered up the hand that wasn’t blood-stained for a shake. “H-hi, Dr. Cho. It’s really nice to meet you.”
Dr. Cho shook his hand and smiled. “That’s a rare sentiment for me to receive, especially when the patient is oozing blood like you seem to be.”
“Uh, yeah, I- I had a little accident, is all.”
“A little accident?” Mr. Stark scoffed. “Only you could run headfirst into a wall and bust your forehead open.”
“I highly doubt that I am the only person in the world who has done such a thing,” Peter scowled.
“Yeah, sure. Anyway, Helen, I believe the kid could use some stitches if you have the time to spare.”
“Of course,” Dr. Cho said, smiling at their banter. “Just take a seat in the first room over there and I’ll go get the supplies.”
She walked off, leaving Peter to follow after Tony in the direction she had pointed. It was a fairly standard examination room as far as Peter could tell, white everything everywhere, of course, and one of those tall tabletops to sit on. It felt a bit reminiscent of going to the pediatrics as a young child, though then it had been May or Ben who’d sat in the chair beside the table rather than Mr. Stark.
Peter tilted his head back to keep the blood from dripping off of his forehead as he fiddled with the edges of the paper covering the table and swung his legs awkwardly as they waited for Dr. Cho to return.
“So, you ever had stitches done before?”
“Nope,” Peter replied shortly, not wanting to think about that process at all.
“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Mr. Stark said, clearly attempting to comfort him and achieving the exact opposite. “The needle is sterile and they’re usually quite quick about it-“
“Mr. Stark, please. Stop talking.”
“Oh-kay.”
Peter sighed. “Sorry. I’d just… really rather not think about this right now.”
Mr. Stark stood up then, coming to stand beside him and resting a hand atop his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Pete. I’ll be here the whole time and you can squeeze my hand as hard as you like, no problem.”
Yeah, that’s one of the things I’m worried about.
Thankfully Dr. Cho entered the room before Peter could do something stupid like say those words out loud.
“So I’m just going to clean and numb the wound real quick and then we’ll do the stitches, okay?”
Peter nodded silently, closing his eyes tightly as he prepared himself to be sewn back together.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Mr. Stark soothed, taking his hand. Peter didn’t want the contact, didn’t want this, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from squeezing the hand in his own when Dr. Cho gave him a numbing injection before starting to dab at his forehead. It didn’t hurt, not really, but God, Peter was full with a terrible amount of dread and anticipation of what was to come.
The next thing he knew, Mr. Stark was sitting right next to him on the table top with an arm slung around his shoulders.
“She’s going to do the stitches now, kid, so do you want like a countdown or-“
“Just do it,” Peter choked out, part of him wishing desperately that he was able to bury his head into Mr. Stark during the process but knowing that his forehead needed to be on display. And also knowing that he didn’t want to give in to whatever this was leading up to. He’d done it before and he swore that he would never do it again, but here he was sitting so close to Mr. Stark and letting him touch him and-
“Ow!” Peter gasped in a short breath as the needle pierced his skin. It still didn’t really hurt, as the area was numb, but gosh it felt so weird. It was not nearly as bad as he expected, but still far from a pleasant experience and he felt his eyes start to burn as the needle was inserted once more.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay, Pete, don’t cry. It’ll be over real soon, I promise,” Mr. Stark said, reaching a hand out to brush the tears out from under Peter’s eyes. The action served to both warm him and fill him with dread.
Mr. Stark clearly wanted something from him, something Peter just wasn’t sure if he would be able to give this time.
***
Peter Parker had been a foster kid his entire life.
Well, not really, but it sure felt like it. He only had faint memories of his aunt and uncle, and his parents were nonexistent. All of them had passed away before Peter had reached the age of seven.
Not every home was bad, but Peter bounced around a lot nonetheless. The worst ones seemed to be the longest stays, and the best ones seemed like only a couple of nights.
His current place of residence wasn’t so bad, but a foster home just wasn’t home. Though Peter wasn’t sure if he even fully understood the concept of having a home at this point.
It could be worse. It could always be worse, in fact, it had been worse. But it was fine now, and at least Peter got to go to Midtown, and he had an internship with Tony Stark.
It had been a shock to receive the internship to start with, and even more to learn that Mr. Stark was so personally involved in it all. Peter had applied in hopes that he’d get to learn something from him, of course, but he hadn’t ever expected to actually get it nor for Mr. Stark to be so hands-on.
Mr. Stark was a lot different than he’d expected. Peter had known that the man had come a long way since the 90s, but reading magazines about his marriage to Pepper Potts and actually meeting his wife and child in the flesh were two entirely different things. And Mr. Stark was so nice, as were Miss Potts and Morgan. Maybe that was why it was so hard to understand. Mr. Stark clearly loved his wife and daughter, so Peter didn’t understand why he was coming onto him all the time.
It hadn’t always been like that, at the start of the internship they’d kept their distance from one another. But one small conversation led to another, and the next thing Peter knew he was having family dinners and lab nights. He was washing dishes with Miss Potts and coloring with Morgan and going out for ice cream with Mr. Stark.
In short, he was totally and utterly in over his head.
***
Peter lay slumped over the passenger seat of a luxury vehicle, heavy head resting against the window. Here he was being driven home from his internship with Tony Stark in Tony Stark’s expensive car by Tony Stark himself, and not even appreciating it. He really was such a brat…
“Tired, kid?” Mr. Stark asked, reaching out a hand to pat Peter on the shoulder and reminding him why all of this was so hard.
Peter hummed.
“Mm, lidocaine will do that to you… Almost home, though, and then you can sleep it off.”
“Not home,” Peter mumbled, mouth lacking self-restraint. “Foster home.”
“Yeah, that’s…” Mr. Stark’s sentence trailed off, and he didn’t pick it back up.
They were there before Peter knew it, as always, and he sat up slowly before grabbing his backpack and opening the car door.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Stark,” Peter murmured, mind still tired and foggy from his semi-sleep.
“No problem, kid. And it’s Tony, alright?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, alright, Mr. Stark,” he said, smirking slightly before slamming the door shut and turning to make his way up towards the house.
***
It’s not as though Peter immediately assumed that Mr. Stark wanted to sleep with him. It was more like Flash and his goons kept insinuating that Peter had an internship because he was sleeping with him, which of course wasn’t true but that led to the thought of, well, what if that’s where this is going?
“You know, I never really believed that people actually slept their way to the top, but I suppose it does happen from time to time as I’m looking at the living proof,” Flash taunted as he passed by Peter’s locker, laughter echoing in the hallways as he walked away.
Peter’s cheeks burned in shame and he had to wonder how much of himself he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of an internship.
***
“Peter!” Mr. Stark greeted him as he entered the lab. “How are you feeling? Stitches holding up?”
Peter nodded, going over to his work table and setting his backpack down. “I would hope so, seeing how many were made.”
Mr. Stark grimaced in sympathy. “I know, kid. At least it’s over now, huh? I’m surprised your foster parents even let you come back seeing as there is clear evidence that I attempted to maim you.”
Peter shrugged. Most people would probably notice if their foster kid came back with his forehead covered in stitches, but he was lucky when they were sober enough to sign his permission slips. The arrangement was fine with him, though, they stayed out of his way and he stayed out of theirs.
“Not even so much as a call to complain to me…” Mr. Stark hummed and Peter raised his eyebrows at his obvious attempt at digging.
“They are rather busy people, Mr. Stark, and they do have five other foster kids, all younger than me. I’m not exactly the top priority, and besides, you’d already taken care of the bleeding. And you didn’t try to maim me. I literally walked into a wall. Kind of my own fault there.”
Mr. Stark frowned but left it at that. “Alright, so, today we’re working on these schematics again, if you’re game… Hey, you wanna stay for dinner tonight, kid? Pepper’s making pepper steak, and no I am not kidding simply for the sake of irony. Though just irony is irony, in my case.”
Peter laughed despite himself and nodded. Maybe it was weird and messed up, but it was better than going back to the loud yet lonely foster home.
***
Skip clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Come now, Peter, you wouldn’t want everyone to know that you’re a bad boy, would you?”
Peter shrank back, squeezing his eyes shut as he mentally admitted defeat. His threats were meaningless, for Skip was right, he’d never tell on him. He wouldn’t even know how to say it, or who to say it to.
Peter had always been a good boy. He got really good grades, was well-behaved and respectful, and he always tried his best to do the right thing.
It was all so much harder now. He felt as though his body was a carton of milk that had been left out of the fridge for far too long, once creamy and delicious but now rotten and spoiled, and bad, bad, bad.
Peter just wanted to be good.
***
Dinner was nice, as always, even if the anxiety that constantly curled around Peter’s stomach made it a bit difficult for him to actually eat anything. Mrs. Stark was as kind to him as ever, and Morgan had already planned out all the games they would play together that evening.
“You don’t actually have to play with her if you don’t want to, Peter,” Mrs. Stark murmured to him as he used a towel to dry the dishes she washed after dinner.
“N-no, it’s fine, Mrs. Stark. I don’t mind at all.”
Mrs. Stark smiled. “You can just call me Pepper, honey.”
Peter internally cringed at the prospect but nodded nonetheless.
“Petey!” Morgan’s shrill voice came from the living room, demanding.
“I think someone’s looking for you,” Mrs. Stark chuckled, taking the plate and drying rag from Peter’s hands.
“I-“
“Go on, Peter. I keep telling you that you don’t have to help me with the dishes every time.”
Peter flushed. “I- I know, it’s just-“
“You’re a good kid,” Mrs. Stark finished, though that certainly wasn’t where he was going with it. “Which is great, but it’s okay to let go sometimes, you know.”
“Y-yeah, okay…”
Mrs. Stark playfully pushed him away with a sud-covered hand. “The princess awaits.”
Awaiting, she was. Seeing her sitting on the living room rug surrounded by boxes of puzzles and board games, Peter wondered if she had any concept of her bedtime being in just a little over an hour. Still, he sat down beside her and pretended to have a hard time picking between a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle and Monopoly Junior.
In the end they decided to do both, as one could work on the puzzle while the other made their move in the game. Good plan, maybe, if one of them weren’t five years old with no real attention span to be found.
Mr. Stark came in from wherever he had gone after a while and sat on the floor with them to watch their games. Peter was totally winning Monopoly, but he could already see the frustration building in Morgan and so was strategizing how best to lose without making it obvious that he let her win.
Mr. Stark clearly could see what he was doing and seemed to decide to stop him in his tracks. “I’m afraid it’s time for bed, little miss.”
“But Daddy, we’re not done with the game yet!”
Mr. Stark gave an exaggerated look at the game board. “It’s already ten past, and do you really think that you’ll be able to finish this game anytime soon?”
Morgan pouted but eventually relented, holding out her arms to be picked up by her father.
Peter stood and shuffled on his feet awkwardly. “I guess I should be heading out, then…”
“Actually, Pete, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about if you could stay a few more minutes? Just let me put her to bed real quick.”
“Y-yeah, okay,” Peter agreed hesitantly, and then proceeded to stress the whole time that Mr. Stark was absent. Had he said or done something wrong? He made an attempt to clean up the Monopoly game but left the puzzle out on the coffee table just in case Morgan would want to continue it later.
Mr. Stark returned precisely four and a half minutes later, taking a seat on the couch and patting the cushion next to him for Peter to do the same.
“You don’t have to let yourself lose to her, you know,” Mr. Stark started, causing Peter to furrow his eyebrows.
“O-oh, I know, it’s just, um…”
Mr. Stark shrugged. “She might would throw a tantrum, yeah, but she does need to learn that she can’t always get her way.”
Peter bit his lip. “She’s an only child of billionaires, she’s probably going to feel that way regardless of whether or not she wins a board game against me, Mr. Stark.”
Mr. Stark snorted. “I suppose you’re right… Still, don’t worry about it. And about that only child thing, I, uh, was actually wondering about something…”
“…Yeah?”
“Mhm. See, um, it’s like this…” Mr. Stark seemed flustered, and Peter had never even imagined seeing Tony Stark flustered.
“You know, kid, this internship… I don’t know about you, but it’s not just an internship to me. It hasn’t been that way for a while, has it?”
Peter sucked in a heavy breath.
***
“Mrs. Westcott?” Peter started hesitantly, hands clasped together and fingernails digging into his palms.
“Yes, dear?” Mrs. Westcott hummed absentmindedly, fingers flipping through her copy of Better Homes and Gardens magazine.
“C-can I t-talk to y-you about s-something?”
Mrs. Westcott pushed the magazine aside, finally looking at him with something akin to concern. “Yes, of course. What is it, Peter?”
Peter crawled up onto the dining room chair next to her. “It’s um, it’s about S-skip. He- he um…”
“Is he hogging the game system again, hon? Don’t you worry about it, I’ll go up there and-“
“He keeps touching me. Like- like- and I don’t want him to.”
There was silence for a long moment. “Well, tell him not to.”
Peter gasped. “I- I have! I k-keep trying but he won’t listen-“
“I can’t control a young boy’s curiosity, Peter. I’m sure it’s nothing serious, it’s just a phase he’ll get over.”
“Mrs. Westcott! I can’t- I can’t do it anymore! It’s too hard, I can’t, I can’t-“
“Alright,” Mrs. Westcott said stiffly. “We’ll just have to find you a new placement, then.”
Peter gaped. “You’re sending me away?”
“Well I’m certainly not going to make you stay here if you can’t handle it.”
“But I didn’t- I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Mrs. Westcott stood from her chair, picking up her magazine as she made to exit the room. “If you can’t learn how to forgive and forget, Peter… I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do for you.”
Peter didn't cry, but silent screams were the loudest of all.
***
“So you, I mean if you want to, you could move in here, and-“
“Mr. Stark,” Peter choked out. “Is- is Mrs. Stark okay with this?”
“What? Yeah, of course, she’s totally cool with it!” Mr. Stark said, patting Peter’s knee and making him want to puke.
“I don’t- I-“
“Pete, I promise, she and Morgan both adore you. We all do. You’re just- you’re a really great kid and-“
“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, suddenly feeling very, very sick.
“Mhm?” Mr. Stark hummed, patting his knee.
“I- I don’t think I can do this. I’ve tried really hard to m-make myself want it, b-but I just don’t. I know you- but I can’t. I just can’t.”
Mr. Stark removed his hand and looked at Peter questioningly. “What are you talking about?”
Peter drew in a shaky breath, feeling the burn as tears fell down his cheeks. “I know you want me to be your- your- I don’t know, but I just can’t be that for someone again, it’s so- so much, and you’re married, you have a daughter, and it’s- I’m sorry. It’s just, it’s too- and I don’t even like you like that, I- I’m sorry.”
Now he’d done it, now Mr. Stark would be looking at him with a heartbroken expression, hurt and betrayed and…
Peter looked up at the man only to see nothing but shock and confusion on his features.
“Peter… Do you think that I have… romantic feelings for you?”
Peter bit his lip, nodding.
Mr. Stark shook his head, disbelieving. “That’s… God, Peter, you’re a child, like a literal child! I do have feelings for you, but not like- not like that! Jesus Christ, you’re like my- my son.”
Peter gaped.
His son? Why would he even want that?
“Your son?” Peter squeaked, backing up into the cushions slightly as he was somehow more intimidated by the idea of parental love than an illicit affair.
“I was going to ask if you would be okay with Pepper and I adopting you, what did you think…”
Peter’s breath caught in his throat. “You want to… to adopt me?”
Mr. Stark looked up at him, tense features softening. “Well, yeah. If you were cool with it, anyways. I… I thought that we had a good thing going here. Pepper loves you too, and Morgan already sees you as her big brother. I didn’t realize you thought…” he trailed off, sniffing. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you or anything like that, Peter.”
Peter thought back to all the times Mr. Stark had made moves on him and wondered if he had just completely and utterly read the situation wrong. He thought about his gentle hands and warm embraces and the fact that Peter almost would have liked it all if he hadn’t been so sick with dread.
Had… had he been wrong all along? Had Peter Parker been too stupid to read a room? Was his one great weakness the inability to understand human beings and their intentions?
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered. “I, I- no one’s ever really looked at me the way you do before. I thought- I thought you must have wanted something from me because that’s all people ever want. I didn’t… I never considered that you…” Peter sniffled, trailing off.
“I do,” Mr. Stark confirmed. “I’ve- I’ve thought of you as my kid for a while now, honestly. But if the idea of being around me makes you uncomfortable, I understand. I- I shouldn’t have just expected you to feel the same way. Maybe I should have explained it to you, I don’t know. I understand if you want to transfer your internship to the R&D labs or something, it’s- you don’t have to be somewhere that makes you so uncomfortable-“
“No!” Peter said quickly. “I- I just read this situation so wrong, I’m so sorry. I didn’t really think that you would, like, you know, it’s just, I didn’t know what else to think…”
Peter stood. “I’m sorry, this is, this is so embarrassing, I’m such an idiot and-“
“You’re definitely not an idiot, Pete. I- I can see where you’re coming from. I just assumed…”
“So did I,” Peter said, chuckling wetly as he shook his head. “Jesus Christ, I’m… Adoption… Why- why would you even want that, anyway?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Peter crossed his arms over his chest, feeling insecure. “I mean, I’m nothing special… I’m not sure why you’d even want me around, all I ever really do is whine and cry, and-“
“Hey, hold up,” Mr. Stark said, cutting Peter off, “for one thing, that isn’t true, and even if it was, so what? Morgan cries all the time, and I cry along with her. It doesn’t bother me.”
Peter made a face. “Morgan is a baby. And she’s your baby. I’m just…”
“My kid,” Mr. Stark offered. “Yeah, no, I haven’t known you since you were a baby or even all that long in general, but something about you just… You’re my kid, kid. Pepper feels the same way and we both want you around because of that.”
Peter let out a huff of air, blowing up his bangs and he allowed himself to fall gracelessly back onto the couch next to Mr. Stark. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Mr. Stark frowned. “Peter… the only thing I want from you is for you to be a kid. There’s no strings, no obligations, nothing else that I want from you. Other than to hopefully be happy, that is. But even that's not a requirement, you can be a sulky teenager for all I care, we just want you to be comfortable.”
Peter nodded, biting his lip. It sounded perfectly normal and reasonable, but he wasn’t exactly used to things like that. He’d spent the past several months fretting over the idea that Mr. Stark wanted him in that way, and never even considered that he and Mrs. Stark both could want him as a family member. It was overwhelming.
“Can I just, um… I think I need to be alone for a while to think, so I should go…”
Mr. Stark nodded, understanding. “I’ll have Happy take you home.”
“Oh, he doesn’t have to do that, Mr. Stark. I can just take the subway…”
“It’s no trouble, Peter. And it’s Tony.”
Peter hesitated before relenting. “Alright… If you’re sure, Mr. Stark.”
Mr. Stark rolled his eyes.
***
Peter had always been a people pleaser, and that was probably why he got burnt so often. People were cruel, and that was a lesson that had been dealt to him time after time.
So when someone was kind to him, it didn’t always feel like kindness. It often felt like a debt that would soon have to be paid, and he didn’t know if he’d have the money to cover it.
How could someone be so kind yet so cruel? How could someone be expected to understand anything after misunderstanding everything?
People were so hard to read.
***
“They really do care about you, you know.”
Peter’s head snapped up to look at Happy through the rear view mirror. “Huh?”
Happy sniffed, eyes on the road. “Tony and Pepper. They care about you.”
Well, yeah, Peter hadn’t ever really doubted that. It was just… this was so weird. To go from one head space to another. Whatever Peter had thought Mr. Stark had wanted vs. what he actually did want were two very different things. It felt a bit like having whiplash.
“Probably a better situation than you got going on here at least, eh?”
Peter hadn’t realized the car had stopped nor that they’d arrived at the foster home. Peter frowned but nodded as he gathered his things and exited the vehicle.
“Thanks for the ride, Happy.”
Happy hmpfed.
***
Peter did take a while to think, and he thought and he thought and he thought. He thought about how nice the Starks were to him, and he thought about how absolutely maddening it was that they might actually want him to be a part of their family. He was just Peter Parker, after all, nerdy orphaned teenager who was apparently incapable of reading signals. The fact that Mr. Stark had taken him on as an intern was crazy enough, the idea of him wanting more than that, and not even in a bad way, was mind blowing.
He thought about it in his room in the foster home, he thought about it on his walk to school. He thought about it on the subway ride to the tower and thought about it when working with Mr. Stark in the lab. This pattern continued for several days before Peter finally asked;
“Mr. Stark?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Do you still wanna adopt me?”
***
It was no surprise when the Starks went overboard with furnishing his room, but it didn’t make it feel any less strange. The space seemed far too nice to house someone like him and he felt awkward as he tried to adjust to the whole living with billionaires thing.
He was grateful that they’d decided to leave most of the decorating to him, as he wasn’t sure what he would do should he break a million dollar flowerpot or something. He opted not to think about it and rather just unpack his bags.
It was in the midst of doing this that Mr. Stark came into the room, carrying a box of posters and while the science posters were a given, some of them caused Peter to wonder how Mr. Stark had even known what his favorite movies and bands were. Well, he’d probably mentioned the Star Wars thing at least once. In length.
“You didn’t have to get me all this,” Peter said, flushing as he unrolled the posters to gaze at the colorful printing.
Mr. Stark shrugged. “It was no trouble. Especially considering Pepper was the one to do it.”
Peter chuckled. If he hadn’t known before, it had become apparent since living with the Starks who was in charge of the household.
“So, I was wondering about something,” Mr. Stark said after a few moments of silence.
“Yeah?”
“A few weeks ago when we were talking, clearing up all the confusion and such… You said that you couldn’t be that for someone again. May I ask what you were talking about?”
Peter settled his palms on the edge of the box, frowning as he wondered how much he should share. “It’s not… like a big deal or anything…”
He picked up a world map poster, deciding to hang it by the desk. “When I was a kid…”
“You are a kid,” Mr. Stark cut in, causing Peter to roll his eyes.
Peter turned away, hanging posters on the wall facing away from Mr. Stark. “When I was a little kid, like eight or nine… I had this foster brother, Skip. We were friends. I thought he was my friend, anyway.”
Peter fumbled on his desk for push pins, still facing away from Mr. Stark. “He was a bit older than me, like sixteen or so. He uh, he had this game. There were these pictures in magazines, I was little and didn’t understand at the time, but they were… well they were like, porn, I guess.”
Peter steadied his poster on the wall, trying to make it perfectly centered. “He wanted us to act out the pictures as a game and I’ve always had a hard time saying no to people.”
Peter pressed a push pin into the top right corner to help hold the poster in place, using more force than necessary as the familiar anger surged inside of him and he bit the inside of his cheek, hard.
A pair of large hands settled on the poster, holding it in place and allowing Peter to push pins into the remaining corners.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Pete,” Mr. Stark said softly.
Peter shrugged. “It’s in the past.” Was it really, though? Clearly, it guided many of Peter’s actions and thought processes even years after the fact. Skip had managed to screw up not only Peter’s childhood but how he approached life as a young adult.
“Are you okay?”
Peter thought about it. Was he okay? Not really. He wasn’t over it by any stretch of the imagination. But did he have to be over it to be okay? Did he ever have to get over it at all in order to just simply breathe? Maybe Peter wanted to hold on to his righteous anger and sadness over the situation until he couldn’t anymore. Maybe that was okay.
Peter nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Even if you weren’t okay… that would be okay.”
Peter smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Stark…”
Mr. Stark huffed, turning his head to examine the poster. “Please, kid… It’s Tony.”
“Okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter said cheekily.
***
Peter held the ice pack up against his bloody nose, breathing through his mouth while Flash ranted on and on about God only knows what.
“I swear, Penis, if I get into trouble with my father just because you don’t have one-”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Peter finally snapped. “You’re the one who punched me because you think you’re so much better than me, like we’re in a crappy Disney Channel original movie or something! At least my daddy didn’t have to pay my way into this school!”
“At least I have a father, unlike you! Though I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if “Daddy” is what you call Mr. Stark when you two are tossing around in the sheets,” Flash sneered.
Peter’s eyes flashed. “You son of a-”
“You’re the only bitch I see here, Parker.”
“I’d have to disagree with that,” came another voice, and Peter could have died right then and there.
Tony Stark entered the room, sporting a tailored suit and displaying all the glitz and glamour that Peter could never hope to attain, and a fiery rage he hoped to avoid.
His anger didn’t seem to be directed at Peter, though, as he focused his glare on Flash. “I’m not sure what your problem is, kid, but if I were you I would tread very carefully.”
Flash paled dramatically at the sight of him, like he hadn’t actually believed that Peter knew the Tony Stark. “Mr. Stark, I, I-”
“This is where you zip it, the adult is talking,” Mr. Stark cut him off. “You seem to have a little problem with running your mouth, and in doing that you not only insult Peter’s integrity but mine as well, and I do not take kindly to that.”
“Sir-”
“Shut. Up. I know this BS has been going on for a long time and I’m sick and tired of it. It’s over. I better not ever hear you or hear of you talking to my son like that ever again.”
Peter jolted then, the ice pack slipping from his grasp as his mouth dropped open. Surely he didn’t actually…
“If you cannot manage to behave civilly around him then you do not touch him, you do not speak to him, you do not acknowledge his existence. Leave him alone and maybe I’ll leave you alone as well. Come on, Peter, we’re leaving.”
Peter snapped his mouth closed and repositioned the ice pack before jumping up and hurrying to follow Mr. Stark out to the car.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter started hesitantly once they were outside the school. “You’re, we, I mean- my principal-”
“He’ll live,” Mr. Stark snapped with irritation in his voice, causing Peter to shrink back in surprise. Mr. Stark continued to stride to the car in silence with Peter trailing miserably behind.
Once buckled in their seats, Mr. Stark sighed deeply before turning to Peter. “I’m sorry for snapping. I just- Jesus, Peter, he broke your fucking nose.”
Peter shrugged, lowering the ice pack and examining his bruised and bloodied nose in the sun visor mirror. “I don’t think it’s broken…”
“It doesn’t matter- I mean of course it matters, but it’s-” Mr. Stark sighed again, bringing a gentle hand up to Peter’s chin and tilting it to look closer at the wound.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked after a moment, voice all weird and nasally.
“Uh huh?”
“Did um… Were you… When you called me your son, uh…”
Mr. Stark looked him in the eyes then, smiling slightly. “Yeah?”
Peter flushed.
It would probably be a long time before Peter really ever got comfortable with all of this, if he ever did. He doubted that he would ever call Mr. Stark “Dad,” he might not ever even get around to “Tony.” But he had to admit that it felt really nice to hear Mr. Stark call Peter his son, even if he hadn’t been prepared for it. Maybe the best things in life were just that, unexpected, and Peter could try to plan ahead all he wanted to but it wouldn’t change the fact that people’s intentions weren’t always clear. But that didn’t always have to mean that they were bad.
Peter pulled away, bringing the ice back up to his nose. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Let’s just go home.”
“Kid, you’re literally gushing blood right now-”
Peter laughed.