Tony’s noticed multiple times that Peter’s parents aren’t exactly model figures when it comes to their son, no matter how much society reveres the scientists.
He just never realized it seemed to be exactly like his parents.
Peter, Tony had come to find out, tended towards being a naturally sunny child, one of those kids that could find the bright side of any situation and run with it to make it wonderful. Peter found a way to make even the worst of situations into something people found themselves envious for missing.
Seeing as he himself tended to be much less optimistic, Tony loved hearing his perspective on the world, the boy making the most boring of situations into something so fun.
He recognized the poorly hidden signs of abuse and neglect better than anyone, they were a mirror to his own childhood, which couldn't be considered too loving.
Years of being yelled at by his father for his stupidity had taken its toll when he moved on to college, Tony constantly convinced everything he did couldn't be good enough, or smart enough, often sacrificing his own wellbeing and mental health to be able to finish an assignment the way he wanted it done. It had taken months of Rhodey’s gentle probing to get to the root of the problem, and many more before he eventually began to heal.
The flinching couldn’t be considered subtle, though Tony knew his unfortunate habit had a similarity in a way that seemed hard to hide when he got overwhelmed or confused, and easily masked on a good day into another gesture or action.
It eventually got to the point with Tony that he couldn’t ever stop, constantly looking over his shoulder and flinching from breezes or slight bursts of sound when he AC would kick up.
Rhodey helped him confront the problem, and when he found himself caught in Rhodey’s orbit, Tony felt safer, like nothing could touch him.
Eventually the flinching got better.
Though Tony struggled with his own mental health, often finding it challenging to balance taking care of himself with the constant stream of science science science that flooded his brain with thoughts and ideas every waking hour, so he often didn’t sleep, or eat, or practice somewhat flexible personal hygiene.
Tried and true habits hadn’t yet failed him, and they probably never would, so what did it matter? Until Rhodey started pulling him away from projects, forcing him to eat and get somewhat regular hours of sleep, and Tony felt truly cared about for the first time in his life.
He could see the early signs in Peter, the timidity towards strangers that in time would grow into fear, the anxiety over getting hurt that in time would turn into bruise hidden paranoia, the blinking eyelids that refused to shut and the appetite that fluctuated with his mood, all to be cultivated in a hateful environment and weed out the sweet, kind parts of what made Peter Peter.
Tony could recognize all of this, because once upon a time, he had been Peter.
Time hardens even the best of men.
So Tony threw himself into loving Peter, giving goodnight kisses and singing lullabies, praising him in every triumph no matter how small, and encouraging him when he got stuck on a problem, constantly supporting his interests and helping cultivate him.
Under Tony’s loving wing, Peter flourished, a bird that had finally learned to fly, the self taught one right there with him, protecting them from stray breezes.
Sure, Peter got quiet sometimes and didn’t always seem to be in the mood for games and laughter, but Peter excelled leaps and bounds better than five year old Tony, which exceeded Tony’s biggest hopes and dreams.
He just wished that Peter would stop hiding the bruises.
It had started on a lazy afternoon, the kind where it’s too cold to go outside without risking Peter’s low-immune system flaring up with some problem or another, so they had stayed in, watching goopy snow flurry in the window before fall had even officially started while watching movies, covered in blankets to stave off the mild chill seeping through Tony’s cheap dorm while Rhodey made batches of hot chocolate in the kitchen, bringing mugs out in hordes before they kicked him out the living room, making a fort and spreading out on the ground.
Peter sat, rolled into a burrito, completely covered head to toe in blankets that heavily restricted his movements while Tony tickled him mercilessly.
Peter squirmed, dislodging the blankets enough to get his arms back into use, pushing against Tony as he giggled, begging for mercy while squirming closer, subconsciously not wanting him to stop.
His shirt began riding up, and Tony stretched out to tug it back down when a flash of purple peaked out from near the hem, Peter wriggling like a worm as his shirt steadily rose up, revealing a sickening hand shape wrapped around his rib, a matching one on the other side, like someone had grabbed him and shook, squeezing far harder than playful jesting.
Tony reached out to touch one of the bruises, but all the joy faded out of Peter’s face as he stopped short, squirming until he had the mobility to pull his shirt down and sit up.
Subconsciously, his hands dropped to the floor, frowning at the usually bubbly five year old that had gone quiet suddenly, his entire demeanor completely shut down, like someone had placed a cup over his flame and immediately deprived the fire of oxygen, extinguishing it in seconds.
Wiggling his fingers, he nudged his hands against Peter’s side, but Peter pulled away and Tony didn’t press, instead refilling their hot chocolates.
When he got back, Rhodey had appeared from wherever he had been hiding, lifting Peter above his head and making airplane noises as he ran around the room. Tony shoved down the image of hand shaped bruises and smiled, ganging up on Rhodey with a jumping Peter to shove Rhodey out the room again.
It, impossibly, hadn’t been obvious no matter if you were or weren’t looking for it, quite the opposite actually, Peter seemed to be happy in spite of the love he lacked at home, not bitter like Tony had become.
Sometimes, in the quietest parts of night, when Tony found himself leaning over rusty parts, repurposing them for experiments and inventions, the rest of the world asleep, he liked to think that Peter’s loving nature somewhat came from his role in the boy’s life, though he knew better than to think he had influenced Peter’s kindness. Peter’s universe-defying, world encompassing love and compassion came completely from within him.
He had never met someone so genuinely loving, like he wore a bulletproof armor against all the cruelty he experienced and then flipped it inside out to shower people in the love he never received.
Some people were just born naturally loving, and Tony found himself almost positive nothing could happen to Peter to squash that love.
The scariest part would always be that Tony had been looking for it, he had begun actively seeking and documenting evidence, and he didn’t often come across any, Peter seemed to be even better at hiding and masking than Tony had ever been.
He knew, he could tell, he had seen it, that Peter had been going through something at home, his parents were more obvious about it than Peter had ever been, which worried Tony. When Peter came over, laughing and giggling and filling Tony’s life with love and happiness, it became impossibly easy to forget that he had been intentionally looking for something amiss.
Peter had often proven he could be better than even Tony had ever been at masking, and it could be exceedingly evident at times like this that the boy Tony constantly put himself in cohorts with is undeniably a genius.
There were moments, just split seconds really, where Tony realized that Peter had been hiding quite an awful lot from him, far more than the average five year old hid from their dubiously-trustworthy adult figure (adult figure had to be said loosely as well, seeing as Tony is just shy of eighteen and still had a restricted license in the state of Maryland [long story]), but Peter could play all of them like a fiddle, and Tony seemed to be reminded constantly that it seemed an active choice from the boy to not.
Like when they had stopped for food and Peter had pulled every card in the book to try to get Tony to stop at Taco Bell, but Tony refused and later bought Peter ice cream in retribution for the pout the boy had sported ever since. It had been only after Peter quieted down for the night and found himself safe and sound in bed did Tony even realize he had been tricked into buying the ice cream.
But on nice fall afternoons like this, with the trees on campus beginning to paint the whole thing into a chick flick with fall colors, Peter’s cheeks flushed with a healthy pink color as he ran through painstakingly raked leaf piles, Tony chasing after him like a maid, smiling sheepishly at lawn workers who scowled as he ran past, it became easy to forget life could ever be painful.
Just before Peter ran into a tree, Tony scooped him up around the waist and yanked him into his arms, spinning as he used the extra momentum to pretend to fling Peter forward in slow motion, making the boy appear to fly downwards in midair before they both landed in a slightly scattered pile of leaves.
Shoving a bit of leaves into Peter’s hair, Tony sat up, looking around with a smile at all the colors flurrying around them, leaves floating downwards as if caught on great wings, the moment perfectly encaptured in his mind, and he knows that no matter how much time passes, he will always remember this.
He turns to a giggling Peter, pulling a few leaves out of his hair that the boy had missed and blowing a raspberry onto his stomach and relishing in the shrieking laughs it earned him.
Peter often seemed subdued these days, weighed down by thoughts too big and heavy for his little head, often caught staring into space or downwards at the floor and each laugh Tony drew out of him had been hard earned, fought for with the bravery of a knight facing a dragon.
Tony would do anything to make his kid laugh.
At the end of the day, Peter had become Tony’s kid, not in blood, and not in age, but in the way an older sibling looks at a baby and just knows, has that instinctive knowledge that they are here to protect this one, this reckless one that comes after it, that the greatest legacy they could ever leave is the child cradled in their arms.
And that child grows, from a little baby to a stubborn toddler into a rebellious teenager that you sit with after fights with parents and drive around without worrying about gas money. The biggest qualms are what fast food place you are going to take them to when they break up with their significant other.
Tony had been the older brother raising Peter for quite a while now, and he wanted to be there for all of it.
Graduation in the spring had become like a far off fear, the terror of falling even when it's been proven you will soar, afraid to leave behind the ground that you so desperately cling to, a second skin that you have grown too grand for.
Shedding the old and allowing yourself to fly.
But Tony had always been terrified of heights.
Peter didn’t truly understand that everything here had an expiration date, but Tony had become perfectly content to keep living in this bubble he had created, nothing had to stop them from behind here, in this moment, together.
The bruises keep appearing, darkening against fair skin as summer tans and sun kissed freckles faded to reveal the pale, aching skin beneath, injuries becoming more severe as time went on, ramping up to something.
Something had been coming for a while now, and yet Tony couldn’t do anything to prevent it, Peter wouldn’t let him in.
It had been odd that such an open, honest, and authentic child could be so secretive, leaving behind only vague whispers of suspicion that Tony worked to piece together.
Though it couldn’t be compared to a puzzle when Tony could only work with half of the pieces.
He couldn’t understand how a boy so happy could make anyone want to hurt him, but as the number of bruises grew, so did Tony’s distaste for Peter’s parents.
As predictably as possible (and quite cliche) it had been a wet day when it all came into the light, melting snow mixing with the fall leaves, Massachusetts on the cusp of winter, right before snow turned beautiful and all the leaves seemed to disappear, what had been left behind from the late autumn snow were soggy leaves and stormy clouds, the chill in the air clinging to those outside and exposed to it.
Tony and Peter huddled up inside his apartment, not unlike the first time this season it had snowed, as they watched sci-fi movies and drank hot chocolate Tony had made, not quite as good as Rhodey’s, but it would make do with his roommate going home for the thanksgiving holidays.
Tony had been invited to Rhodey’s just like every year, but had declined, instead going home as thanksgiving passed in a flurry of lights and colors, Tony shut up in his workshop as he built and built and built, but now the days began fading into night faster and all that had been left were a few days reprieve before school swung back into session with a vengeance to wipe him out with finals before Christmas.
Peter had not yet been broken by the education system, so he had been (of course) ready to go back and keep learning.
Though as the evidence kept piling up, Tony couldn’t help but wonder how much Peter’s thirst for knowledge influenced that when being at Peter’s house could comparably be the worst thing in the world.
Even school could seem like a mercy when put in perspective with the rest of his life.
All in all, Tony had become quite unwilling to put down his proof to coincidence, and he made sure to hide the beers whenever Peter came over.
But on that slightly soggy day, Peter had been doing Tony’s old calculus homework at the kitchen table while Tony made chicken nuggets in the air fryer and tried to review for his winter finals, running through equations and formulas in his head as he moved around the kitchen, the quiet clinking of glass on the counters the only sound in the quiet room.
It took an embarrassingly long time for Tony to realize something in the room seemed different than usual, even longer for him to put together that Peter’s shoulders weren’t shaking from the frigid room, but from stifled sobs.
Tony sped across the room in seconds, knees skidding on the floor as he kneeled down next to Peter, one of his hands coming to cup the back of the boy’s head in his hand as Peter turned to him, burying his head in Tony’s shirt as he spoke, “What’s wrong? You don’t have to do the practice problems if you don’t want to, I thought you liked them.”
Memories of his father calling him stupid for not understanding expert level math as a child started coming back to him as Peter shook harder, “It’s okay if you’re stuck, you’re still brilliant.”
Peter cried harder as Tony scrambled for words, trying to comfort what he couldn’t shield him from, what he didn’t know about.
The crying didn’t abate, Peter sobbing with renewed viscosity every time Tony tried to comfort him, seemingly making it worse.
Tony pulled back, his useless comforting obviously not helping the situation as he got Peter’s water, handing it to the boy and giving him a moment to calm down. He had discovered that young kids could cry and drink water, giving them water to drink made them focus on something else and begin to calm down.
Sure enough, Peter began calming down, his sobs turning into little hiccups in between sips of water as he stared at Tony, eyes wide and still glassy with tears as he clutched his cup with both hands, tilting his head back every time he took a sip.
Tony rubbed the boy's back, trying to soothe as he asked, “What’s wrong Petey-pie?”
Peter shrugged, eyes glancing down at the cup as he swished the water in it around and around.
Grabbing the cup as gently as he could, Tony led the cup still in Peter’s hands back onto the table next to them to hopefully prevent a spill and watched as Peter began playing with his fingers in his lap, folding and twisting and intertwining them as he avoided Tony's gaze.
Sighing, Tony sat down more fully so he could be in Peter’s line of sight more fully, the boy unable to look away unless he looked directly up at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong Pete?”
The boy shrugged, avoiding Tony’s gaze as best as he could as he mumbled, “I don’t want to go home,” wrapping his arms around himself.
Recognising the cry for comfort that the boy seemed to be emitting, he pulled him off of his chair and into a hug that occurred mostly on the floor, Peter completely limp on top of Tony as he burrowed into his stomach, trying to become one with Tony’s abdomen, folding over slightly, he wrapped his arms around Peter in the most comforting position he could think of, a little ache in his back already beginning to protest the position.
Tony couldn’t care less if he stayed exactly in this moment for the rest of his life.
Sniffing, Peter pulled back, already wiping his cheeks to erase the evidence of crying as he tried to recompose himself.
His heart hurt for the boy in front of him, a reflection of the childhood Tony himself had experienced, he wouldn’t ever wish it on anyone.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
Peter wiped his face with his sleeves in a way that couldn’t have been painless, giving the floor a pout as he considered.
Just when Tony opened his mouth to suggest something else Peter nodded, “Okay.”
Thirty minutes later when the action portion of The Last Airbender started, Tony smiled, looking down at the boy sprawled against him in blissful sleep.
He’d do anything to protect him.