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It was only the start of semester, but Peter already wanted to bang his head into a wall.
Not in a metaphorical sense either, he had been sat on the shower floor, skin borderline burning under the hot water, and felt the all the pressure and anxiety and irrational upsetness crawling into his chest and sinking into his stomach - and the urge struck him to just bash his head and knock all of those unpleasant feelings away.
He wouldn't though. He's smart enough to know with his strength and an emotionally fueled action he might actually brain himself on the tile if he tried.
So he didn't.
It's not even that the work so far was hard (it wasn't), but it still somehow felt like it was suffocating him. Just knowing his to do list was growing and the array of things he has to spend his mental energy on is starting to feel like it can't all fit in the hours of the day.
It wasn't just that either though, he was being an actual drama queen. About everything. Every tiny misstep around him made him feel like his world was crumbling. He'd shut down or cry in a bathroom or turn off his brain and go swinging through the city. He feels like everyone around him is sick of this, of him. He knows he is.
***
Tony's sitting in the lab, his back to the glass doors and wall that divide the everything-proofed room from the rest of the tower. His music is blaring, louder than he'd ever have it with Peter in there, but still quieter than he used to on the off chance Peter was around.
He taps away at a holoscreen, muttering to Friday and getting only snark in response as his simulation failed, again.
He's torn from his grumpy determination however, when he hears the door close behind him.
Before he can even think, he says, "Music, Fri." and the volume turns down to a Peter safe level.
It was wasted though, because he turns around and it's not Peter whose wandered in, but Pepper.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asks, smiling cockily as her and reaching for some spare parts on his work bench to fiddle with, he's gonna need him if she's here to ask him to do his job (bleugh) as head of R&D.
Pepper only offers an amused but strained smile at his antics, and he straightens up when he notices her stiffness. Before he can ask, she tells him.
"I just got off a call with May Parker-" he cuts her off, "May called you? Is everything okay? Why didn't she call m-".
She rolls her eyes, a little more relaxed now but brows still furrowed slightly in concern.
"She tried, Friday says you asked for 'total peace, oasis mode.' Which somehow blocks me, May, and James, care to explain?"
Her eyebrows raises at the end of the question, and Tony just looks up at the ceiling in faux shock.
"Fridayyy, you know Rhodeybear, Pepper, and May are meant to be exempt from DnD, how could you?"
Her voice sounds almost petty as she says, "Quiet easily, based on my 'Oasis Mode' protocol, only Peter Parker is exempt from the Do Not Disturb."
Tony waves a hand, seeing Pepper's face again and remembering the point of the conversation.
"I'll talk to her about those blatant lies later, what was up with May?"
Pepper seems to remember then what the conversation was meant to be about before it was derailed, and Tony see's her hands twitch anxiously. He stands up, and grabs one of her manicured hands in his own callused one.
"Pep?"
She smiles in a twisted and forced way again, "It's nothing world ending, normal teenagerl stuff. But may sounded so worried but she can't get out of work and she couldn't get through to you or-"
She's working herself up, but Tony still doesn't know what's actually wrong. The more Pepper says, the more the pieces add up to 'somethings wrong with Peter.
He grips her hand tighter, "Pep, take a breath, what's wrong?"
She takes a breath, eyes closed, chest rising then falling, before she speaks again.
"Peter got in a fight at school and-"
"Where is he?" Tony's already dodging Pepper to grab his phone and reaching for his watch to call the suit, but Pepper stops him and it's her turn to be the voice of reason.
"At the school office waiting for someone to pick him up, and I don't think Iron Man flying in to do that is going to help. Happy can drive."
He relents, hand moving from his watch, but still shakes his head, "Happy's busy. I'll drive."
She looks at him like she doesn't believe him and he raises his hands placatingly as he heads out the lab door, "Drive a car Pep, no suits, you're right."
She sighs, but let's him leave.
***
Peter's head feels like a cacaphony of noise and buzzing and a cloudy haze all at once. His cheek might sting, but he can barely process it. Any bruising will be gone before it has time to really settle in.
He's sat in a creaky chair of Midtown's main office, the scratchy fabric catching in his hands as they grip and release the armests almost like their pulsing. He's full of unreleased tension and anger and upset and he can barely figure out what he's thinking, let alone feeling.
But he knows he needs to get out.
They've called someone, May, obviously. Because who else. But May's covering a double shift at this hospital and he knows she was the last resort so there's no one to cover her. He feels stuck. His breath is stuck in his throat and he's frustrated to feel tears welling up in his eyes.
He's fucking Spider-Man, he's dealt with Flash and 100 worse people for years. Why can't he handle it now? He should be able to handle it.
He hadn't even fought back, he never does, but this is the first time he really really wishes he could have. He wanted to knock the stupid smug smirk of off Flash's face, and all the other shitty people who find his antics entertaining. He wants to explode and take everyone down with him. He wants to get rid of this sinking, bubbling, burning feeling in his chest and the numbness that clouds his mind. He wants it all to stop.
He's not sure how much time passes. He ignores the room, or the room ignore him, or his brain just can't keep up. He knows there's foot traffic and voices and movement all around, but he doesn't see any of it. Doesn't see Flash's smug smile as he heads out without a phone call home, or the administrators equally disproving and pitying stares, and he doesn't see Mr Stark walk past, shooting a concerned and scrutinising look his way before focusing his attention on the Principal's office, which he enters without invitation.
He's only somewhat brought back to awareness when a familiar scent of oil and detergent and Mr Stark fill his scenes and a warm calloused hand lands in his hair, ruffling it gently.
"Hey buddy, I'm springing you. Got your stuff?"
He doesn't ask what happened or get angry or look disappointed, and something in Peter deflates. He feels his cheeks flush and his eyes gloss over and despite the haze still clouding him he screws his eyes shut and nods, standing.
An arm wraps around him as they walk, and even though his eyes are open now he can't see much. The walk to the car is a blur, and the drive to the tower even more so.
They end up on the couch, Peter's bag on the floor at his feet, and his arms pulled tight to his sides and his fingers ring the cuffs of his hoodie.
He feels Mr Stark look him over, still not judging, more like appraising him. He must see something, because he still doesn't ask, just sits close enough to Peter that if he tilts his head he'd land on the mans shoulder, and asks Friday to queue up some random documentary.
They watch quietly as animals run from predators, camouflage into plants, and care for their children.
Peter puts his head on Mr Starks shoulder, he doesn't say anything, just gently ruffles the boys hair again.
They keep watching, and something in Peter's chest settles, he's still hurting and floating and tired, but there's a warmth there now that he didn't realize was missing.
Eventually, the credits role, but they don't move. The hair ruffle has turned into more of a soft scratch and Tony occasionally stopping to twirl the soft curls in his fingers. Peter feels like he can breath again.
After some time has passed, not that Peter has any grasp on how long, Tony speaks.
"You wanna tell me what happened kiddo?"
Peter feels his chest tighten again and his stomach lurch, but Tony keeps playing with his hair and his soft warmth weighs down his side and Peter brings himself back down to Earth.
"I yelled at Flash and he punched me.. then I yelled some more, and a teacher heard, and Flash tripped trying to hide and landed in the lockers and told the teacher I pushed him. I didn't though, you know, you know I'd never-" before he can work himself up again, Tony shushes and out of the corner of his eye he sees him roll his eyes.
Rude, but also comforting.
"I know Pete, not what I'm talking about, but good info. Remind me to make sure that kid gets expelled."
Peter snorts, "They didn't even call his parents."
Tony looks at the ceiling and takes a measured breath, clearly that's something he'd be looking into later but Peter didn't care right now.
"But if that's not what you meant.."
Tony's face softens as he shifts so they can face each other properly.
"No kiddo, I meant how your doing. What's happening in that head of yours, it looks full up of things you probably shouldn't be bottling up."
Peter shrinks in on himself. Yeah everything sucks right now, but he can handle it. He's fine. Yeah he wishes the world with explode and he'd never have to deal with anyone or anything every again, but he doesn't REALLY want that.
He sniffs, "Nothing."
They sit quietly for a while again, Tony not pushing. He just hums in response and buries his hand back in Peter's hair.
A while later, Peter speaks again, words bursting from his lips as if he needs to say them quickly or he won't be able to say them at all.
"It's just, just everything," words explode out of him and he tells Tony about the aching, burning, sinking feelings and anger and tears and frustration and the fact that the world is smothering him and he can't stand it anymore. He tells him how he feels so alone and yet suffocated and how every normally harmless comment or tone dead blunder from those around him make him feel explosive. How his head is clouded and he loses time but he still knows it hurts.
All the while, Tony keeps a grounding hand on Peter's ankle where it's propped on the couch from when he span to face the man. He Hmms and Aahs and his face reacts with understanding and empathy and a deep kind of caring Peter doesn't think he has the time to unpack.
By the end of his spiel, he's crying and he's breathing hard and fast and the explosive feeling in his chest feels cmas close to the surface as it's ever been but it's different.
And then he just sobs. Absolutely loses it. Mortifying levels of crying. Blubbering and snot and breath catching in his throat but oh my god does it feel good to have Tony holding him together as he falls apart.
It hurts and it aches but Tony shushes and holds him tight in his arms, grounding. Peter can feel the scars on his chest through were his cheek presses in, tucked under Tony's head. Safe. Protected.
Peter cries until the explosion fizzles out, and his ears are ringing and the haze creeps back in, but he feels less like the weight of the world is crushing him.
He feels less alone.
***
Tony's hand scratches gently and Peter's scalp again, and run up and down his back with soothing consistency.
He takes a breath, and looks down at the kid who let himself fall apart, let Tony be there in his darkest hour, trusted Tony to keep him safe when he couldn't stand to guard himself anymore.
A small smile crosses his face, it's soft and crooked and full of unspoken love for the kid. He hopes the kid knows.
"I've got you kid, always."
The kids hand tightens around the fistful of Tony's T-shirt he's been holding like a lifeline, and he mumbles a few words Tony's not sure he even heard, but he felt them.
"'nks dad," and his face nuzzles into Tony's chest, and warmth fills the room even as the weight of everything hasn't fully dissipated.
It's not perfect, but his kids safe and warm in his arms, and he's not hurting alone anymore, and Tony thinks that sounds like a pretty good step forward to him.