Ben was so excited, Papa woke him up early this morning, and explained it was Daddy’s birthday! They were making him breakfast in bed and a card together! Papa also told him that he had to be a good boy for Daddy (which he always tried to be), or else he wouldn’t get cake that night, so they were getting cake!
Ben hummed to himself and kicked his feet as he drew, his crayon flying across the page. This was so exciting! Papa never wanted to spend time with him! He was being so nice, too, letting Ben decorate the birthday card while he made the breakfast! He even promised to take care of the writing part because Ben didn’t know how! Plus, it was Daddy’s birthday! His favorite person!
Finally the card was finished to his standards; it had a Dragon and Dinosaur dancing on the outside, and eating cake and Pizza on the inside, surrounded by balloons and streamers.
“It’s done!” He said, holding his creation up so Papa could see it. Papa wiped his hands and walked over.
“Alright, let’s see!” He said, taking the card. He sounded happy as he ruffled Ben’s hair and said “Pretty good, sport!”
Ben beamed as Papa picked up a pen to write on the card.
“‘Happy Birthday!’” Papa said as he wrote, “‘Love Quentin and Ben’, how’s that?”
Ben nodded, but he didn’t really know what else a birthday card should say.
“Well, I’m done with breakfast, so why don’t we take these in to him together?” Ben grinned as he took his card off the table, jumped down from his seat and ran to his parents door, bouncing as he waited for Papa to catch up with the tray of food.
Finally, Ben was allowed to open the door. He opened it, dashed over, scrambled up the end of bed, and paused. Daddy was already awake, he looked sad, staring off at the wall. Daddy shouldn’t be sad, especially on his birthday, maybe he forgot it was today?
“Happy birthday Daddy!” Ben cheered. Daddy looked startled, before suddenly smiling weirdly.
“Oh, thank you, bud!” Daddy said as he sat up.
“I made you a card!” Ben said proudly as he presented his work.
“Thank you so much!” Daddy said, sounding happier than before as he pulled Ben into a hug.
“I helped with the writing part, and I made breakfast.” Papa said as he set the tray down next to them, “happy birthday.” He said before kissing Daddy.
Kissing must be really gross because Daddy always seems to make a funny face whenever Papa kisses him.
The three ate breakfast in silence, before Papa gave Daddy another kiss, whispered something in his ear, and left for work.
Daddy looked very sad for a long moment, but before Ben could ask what was wrong, he breathed in deeply, straightened up, and smiled weirdly again.
“Let’s- let’s get ready for today, Benny-bug.” Daddy said.
——
Peter wanted to cry, he wanted to scream.
Peter wanted to kill himself.
The only reason he wasn’t doing any of it was Ben; Ben didn’t deserve to watch him break down in tears, wouldn’t understand his despair because he was just a baby, and shouldn’t have to watch his daddy fall apart.
Ben, who under no circumstances, could be left with Quentin Beck.
Peter had thought about it so many times, had even promised himself at one point that he would do it, he would find a way to do it before he turned 18 if he was still here.
But then Quentin came home with Ben.
Quentin gave no explanation for the child he brought home. He showed the child little to no love. He vaguely threatened him a few times to get Peter to comply sexually. He would not care for Ben and never has. Hell, when Ben got sick; Quentin basically forced Peter to give him oral before he went and got the boy medicine he needed, and complained when Peter left him to sleep alone because Ben couldn’t sleep alone.
Quentin Beck became obsessed with a teenager, and Ben looked so much like Peter that the mere idea of what Quentin might think of doing to this little boy made him want to throw up.
So, Peter resolved not to kill himself.
He was 18 now.
He was an adult.
But he was still stuck in this house.
Another birthday, another milestone without Tony, May, MJ, Ned, Happy, anyone.
He couldn’t turn his sad brain off as he went through the day mostly monotonously, keeping a smile on his face as best as he could to keep Ben from questioning him.
He broke from his trance enough to compliment Ben’s birthday card and stick it to the fridge with a magnet, it was pretty good for a toddler, even if Quentin wrote all over it.
He was mostly tired.
They sat and watched movies most of the day, only breaking to make a very simple lunch for Ben.
Peter wasn’t hungry.
He laid on the couch, content to watch as Ben happily scribbled some more drawings while Peter Pan 2 played on the TV. Peter didn’t know how long it had been when Ben looked over at him and his face fell.
“Are you okay, Daddy?”
His smile must’ve slipped. He barely kept himself together.
“I’m fine bug, everything’s fine.” He needed to pull it together for Ben.
Ben wasn’t convinced. How bad of an actor was Peter that he couldn’t fool a literal toddler? Although that wasn’t actually fair, Ben was very smart. The boy carefully put down his crayons and climbed onto the sofa with Peter, hugging him as hard as he could.
Peter squeezed the little boy tightly in his arms and allowed himself to crack, just a bit, letting a few tears fall into they boy’s curly blonde-streaked hair.
“It’s okay, Daddy.”
Peter hugged the boy a little tighter, hoping to make those words true.
—-
Later that afternoon, Quentin was home.
Peter left Ben to nap on the couch and started to help Quentin with Dinner.
“You don’t have to help, it’s your birthday!” Quentin said as Peter started to cut up vegetables.
“It’s fine,” Peter said. Quentin hated when Peter didn’t spend enough time with him, and making dinner was the easiest way to do it.
“You seem upset.” Quentin said, sounding as if he had no idea why Peter would be upset. As if he would make it all better. “What’s wrong?”
All of Peter’s sadness boiled off, leaving only frustration.
“I didn’t expect my fucking 18th birthday to be like this, okay?” Peter snapped, putting down the knife.
“I made you breakfast in bed, you spent time with the kid, I’m trying to make you dinner, and we’re having cake.” Quentin said, clearly pissed. Sarcastically throwing out; “I’m sorry it’s not a five star hotel or something.”
Like Peter was being a brat because he didn’t like that he was turning 18 while literally being held hostage. He wanted to scream, break everything in the kitchen, smash Beck’s head in on the counter, take Ben and run as far away as he could. But he couldn’t do that. He does all of that in his mind a million times in a second, glaring at Beck and turning away from him and closing his eyes, unsure what he wanted to see when he opened them.
“I can’t believe you.” Peter muttered.
“You’re so fucking entitled. I didn’t expect my life to be like this either!” Beck yelled. Peter heard Ben wake up from the commotion and start crying.
“Oh, I’m sorry, how did you expect your life to be when you kidnapped two kids?” Peter threw out sarcastically as he stormed over to Ben.
If looks could kill, Beck would honestly be long dead by this point, but the look Quentin gave at that moment would kill Peter on the spot. Peter simply turned away to cuddle Ben.
“I wish I never brought that damn brat home.” Quentin said. Peter felt Ben gasp against his chest and start to cry, and automatically hugged him tighter. He felt himself move automatically to stand them up so they wouldn’t be trapped against the couch. He pulled Ben off of him, hoping to give the boy a chance to run just in case. It was such a low blow, even for Beck, bringing him into their argument that he had no idea what he would do next.
Then Quentin did something even more horrible. He raised his hand, arm and gaze clearly angled directly at Ben.
Peter pulled the boy behind him, and glared Beck down.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Peter said coldly. He was not allowing this. Beck could do whatever the hell he wanted to him, but he was not letting him hurt his child.
Something in his face or his voice, or maybe even the fact that it was his birthday, triggered something in Beck, who walked over to the closet and took out his coat.
“Where are you going?” Peter asked, gripping Ben tighter behind his leg.
“Out.” Beck said, grabbing his keys.
The door slammed behind him.
Peter collapsed, and looked at Ben, who was still crying.
“Oh, baby.” Peter cooed, pulling the boy into another hug. Quentin may be a bastard, but he was still Ben’s papa.
“Papa doesn’t like me.” Ben sobbed. It wasn’t a question, but Peter still didn’t know how to answer it.
“It’s okay, I love you” Peter didn’t know what to say to him, so he tried the old reliables and hugged the boy as tight as possible, rubbing his back until his sobs finally tapered off. He pulled the boy back so he could see his face, but kept his arms around him. He had an idea to help make them both feel a little better.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty hungry.” Peter said exaggeratedly. “How about we eat that cake for dinner? And then a movie? Hmm? It is my birthday after all, then we can watch Star Wars in our jammies.”
Ben still didn’t look very happy, but Peter didn’t expect him to, but he definitely perked up a little at the idea, and it was something.
Peter stood up, carrying Ben to the fridge under his arm to get a few teary giggles out of the boy. He poured a Sippy cup full of water, handing it off to Ben. While the boy drank, Peter pulled the cake out, a small round cake, with white frosting and colorful flowers around the center, where “Happy Birthday Peter” was written in blue gel icing. He got them plates, forks, spoons, and even ice cream, and was about to cut the cake when Ben spoke up.
“Wait!” Ben squeaked, speaking for the first time since his revelation earlier. “We hafta sing the birthday song! And do candles!”
“Ah, you’re right! I totally forgot!” Peter smiled, exaggeratedly slapping his forehead and leaning back. A moment of searching revealed Beck had left candles and a lighter, so Peter put 18 of them on, under Ben’s watchful eye, lit them, and turned the kitchen lights off, but leaving the hall light on for Ben. They sang together; even if it felt silly for Peter to sing to himself, he felt like Ben would get self conscious if he sung by himself, and Peter blew out the candles.
I wish to take Ben home. Peter thought to himself as he blew out the tiny flames.
Then he gently blew air into Ben’s face.
“Noooo Daddy! The candles!” Ben said through giggles, holding his hands up in front of his face as if to guard his face from the oncoming air.
“I’m sorry, I got confused because you’re both so bright!” Peter said as he got up to turn on the lights, making Ben giggle louder
’You are, you are so bright my little light’ Peter thought, kissing the boy’s head.
Peter would face tomorrow’s consequences head on for Ben, but he was so glad to have tonight with his son.
Tonight they would watch A New Hope in their PJs, passing out cuddling on the couch.
Tomorrow can wait until then.