“I’m so sorry I can’t watch the fireworks with you this year, honey.” May sighs regretfully, chopping carrots at the counter. “Brenda called out with a family emergency, and they had no one else to cover.”
“It’s okay, May, don’t worry about it. I can watch them from the roof with Karen. I’ll be fine.”
The woman pauses her work and goes over to her nephew, running a hand through his curls. Peter leans into the touch contentedly. “I know you’ll be fine, but I don’t want you to have to spend the Fourth of July alone.”
Pulling back to look his aunt in the eye, Peter replies, “I won’t be alone; Karen is very personable. Tony makes all his A.I.s creepily human-like.” The teenager grins, flashing his dimples. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”
After a moment of speculation, May surrenders. “Okay, okay. If you say so. Why don’t you want to go over to Tony’s again?”
“He’s throwing this giant red, white, and blue bash, and I figured it would, ya know, be too much for me. He invited me, though. Multiple times. Never say he wasn’t persistent.”
It’s May’s turn to grin. “He’s Tony Stark; he’s used to getting exactly what he wants. Well, if you need anything tonight, let me know. I might not be able to call, so text me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Peter pulls out a mock salute, then chuckles. “I larb you.”
May places a kiss against his temple. “Larb you too, sweetie. Now, help me with the rest of these carrots, would you?”
Just as promised, Peter is fine. Perfectly fine the whole evening.
Until he isn’t.
He swears it’s only because the first boom catches him off guard while building Lego. That’s all it was. Except his body refuses to come down from fight-or-flight mode, and he doesn’t know what to do.
The fireworks keep coming, and his panic rises with each flash of color against the night sky. You’re okay. They aren’t bombs or guns, only fireworks. It’s okay. You’re okay.
Peter’s breathing comes in too fast, too sharp, and he doesn’t need to check his watch to know his heart rate is too high for comfort. I need to calm down. But each crack is like a knife to his eardrums, and he can’t press his hands hard enough against his head to lessen the pain.
Against the boy’s will, tears sneak past his lashes and roll down his cheeks onto the mattress below. He gives up on the makeshift headphones and reaches for his stuffed bear instead, clutching it close to his chest. I can’t ask May to come home, not after I insisted I would be okay. And it’s not like she can just leave anyway. Tony. I need Tony.
“But he’s hosting the biggest Fourth of July celebration in all of New York,” Peter whispers to himself, “He can’t leave either.” More tears trickle down as Peter fights for a solution. A text couldn’t hurt. Just text him.
Still trying to escape the explosions that seem to come at him from all angles, the kid makes his way to his closet and closes the door, only slightly muffling the booms from outside. Clutching his phone in a shaky, white-knuckle grip, Peter manages to type: need u. too loud. too much like weapons. no may. sorry
He presses send with a quivery exhale and curls into himself, waiting in agony for a response. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait very long. His phone pings only a minute later: On my way
Then, a second after: And don’t apologize. I’d pick you over a party any day
Too exhausted to form a response, Peter puts his head on his knees and closes his eyes, not opening them back up until a sliver of light hits his face.
--------------------
“Hey, buddy.” A quiet, soothing voice calls to him. “You want help up?” Almost drunkenly, Peter rises to his feet, his body pulling to Tony’s like a magnet. The man’s arms form a shield around the kid, holding him close.
“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” The billionaire murmurs into Peter’s hair. “Getting away was a nightmare. You doing okay?” Peter starts to nod but decides against it, letting a weary sigh escape him instead. Tony rubs the kid’s back in understanding. “Yeah, fireworks were hard for me for a while, too. Can’t imagine having enhanced senses thrown in there, though.”
“Bed, please.” Peter mumbles, right as his knees buckle and start to give way. Tony catches him with the grace of someone who’s done it a thousand times before.
“Easy there, kiddo. Let’s lay you down.” He lowers them both onto the bed, Peter curling into the man immediately.
Slightly calmer now, Peter rasps, “I know they’re just fireworks. I know that. So why is my body panicking?”
With an exhale large enough to suggest his years of trauma, Tony responds, “Your body is trained to react a certain way when it hears explosions like that. You know there’s no danger, but as far as your body’s concerned, you need to either get somewhere safe or fight back.”
“Sorry I called you away from your party. I just… I needed you.”
“Kid, how many times do I have to tell you? I will gladly pick you over most anything else. Don’t apologize, please.”
Just then, a large firework goes off, causing Peter to yelp and flinch hard against Tony’s side. “S-sorry. I mean, um, I’m… not sorry?”
The superhero chuckles faintly and presses a soft kiss against Peter’s temple. “It’s alright, Pete, you’re alright.” He notices the kid trembling softly, like the final leaf about to fall as autumn gives way to winter. “Hey, hey, everything’s okay, yeah? You’re safe. Can I hear you say it?”
“I-I’m safe. I’m safe. You’re here, and nothing bad is gonna happen.”
“That’s right, good.” He runs his fingers through Peter’s mop of curls and smiles when he feels the boy lean into his touch. Another explosion goes off, and he notices Peter squeeze his eyes shut.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” His hand moves to the kid’s back, rubbing slow circles. “I know it’s loud, I know your body’s working against you, but Pete, you are in control. Breathe with me, can you do that? Can you match me?”
Tony’s chest moves exaggeratingly up and down, and Peter does his best to copy him. “My- my heart’s beating too fast. I can’t… I can’t- Tony- I can’t slow it down. Tony-”
The man’s own heart constricting with sympathy, he places a hand on Peter’s cheek, his thumb swiping away tears. “Yes, you can. Hey, look at me. Yes, you can. You’re the one in control. I want you to inhale through the nose, hold it for a few seconds, then exhale through the mouth. Can you try that for me?”
Peter struggles with the first few breaths, but eventually, his heart slows, and his breathing is no longer erratic. Now able to speak, he asks, “You know what the worst part of this is? It’s that every time a firework goes off, all I can picture is that building falling on me, over and over again. Being trapped. Not getting enough air. Thinking I was about to die. Maybe my body’s not overreacting after all.”
“I… I’m sorry you had to go through that, Underoos. More sorry than you’ll ever know.”
“I had to go through it, though. Spiderman had to go through it. Even if it sucked.”
Tony lets that sentence hang, permeating the air around them like the smoke from the explosives outside. Finally, he whispers, “You’re so strong, kid. Never forget that.”
“You helped make me strong, though. Never forget that.”
The man chuckles again, pulling the kid closer. “Fair enough, Petey. Fair enough.”