Peter’s luck with father figures was like a gambler saying, ‘just let me have one more go’. It never did work out.
The first was his dad. He didn’t remember much of him, though people who knew him always said he had his eyes. Which was weird, because it was like ‘why are you reminding me that I will never know how much I resemble my dead dad?’ That might be a tad dramatic, but it was true!
Peter was only four when his dad died. If his dad was the sun, the day he died caused a total eclipse. Everything went dark, because he didn’t know how to see without the constant support of both his parents. He was lost for a long time, barely holding on. The only reason he made it out was his Uncle and Aunt, Ben and May, guiding him along the path of grief when he could barely even talk.
He came to realise as he grew that his dad wouldn’t be able to show him how to tie a tie or shave his face (although even at fourteen when his classmates grew stubble, he was still struggling to get one hair to pop up. He blamed it on the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing). It was weird to mourn those experiences because it wasn’t even guaranteed they might happen. But watching his classmates tell stories of how their dads took them fishing last weekend, or took them bowling, or to a show, he couldn’t help but excuse himself and cry in the bathroom because he would never get that.
His second father figure was his uncle Ben.
Ben was a good ‘replacement’. Although, it felt cruel and not enough to call him that. He wasn’t just Dad 2.0- he was different. He was more playful than Richard Parker ever was, from the small memories Peter could recall. He’d throw Peter up in the air whilst May watched on and told him to be careful. He’d even let Peter play with his baton that he used in work (he was a police chief). He taught Peter things, like how to use a taser (May had quickly taken that one off him), but also how to be responsible and kind and how you should never take life for granted.
He was great.
And there was a reason why Peter had to talk about him in past tense.
Ben died too. Not long after Peter became Spider-Man, and the guilt he felt from that caused Peter to become a shell of himself.
Ben’s death, to him, was a storm. He saw it coming from a mile away, but he couldn’t stop it. Peter watched the bullet fly towards him, and even if he was the fastest person alive, he couldn’t stop the collision. Ben’s hand covered his wound, and in that one moment, he fell and died in Peter’s arms.
He’s had some ‘one-off’ father figures since then. A few of May’s ‘more than one date’ ‘partners’, but they usually showed their true colours after a while and left soon after she went on a date with them. She didn’t like dating, not wanting to forget Ben, but she put herself out there anyway, but Peter could tell she always chose the bad ones, so she had excuse not to make it last longer. They always tried to bond with him, though. Some took him out for a treat, one to a football game and the other to a… silent disco (that one was a weirdo, and Peter quickly told May she deserved better than that as soon as he got back from what could only be described as the worst night of his life. And, yes, it was worse than finding out both his uncle and parents were dead).
Mr Delmar was a bit like a dad. He took care of Peter, made sure he had food, but he couldn’t exactly be a permanent fixture in his life like most (not all) dads were. Hell, he only saw him twice a week when May managed to pass off some money for him to spend in the shop. But that feeling was nice, nonetheless. But it’s not like he’d rock up to his parent-teacher conference, willing to find out how he has been doing in class and how he needed to improve. He just made his sandwiches.
Now, Peter swore to himself that he wouldn’t get close to anymore wannabe father figures. Even if he was the ‘wannabe’. Even if he looked up to them more than anybody else. He couldn’t do it to himself, or to them. Peter was a curse. If they got near him and said ‘son’, they’d burst into flames before Peter could reply.
Plus, he still had May. And she was more than enough to fill that void in his life.
Then he met Tony Stark.
Seeing THE Tony Stark sat on his sofa, eating dry walnut and date loaf (which, God, poor him), was a shock to the system. Peter left his body for a moment, and he just stared because what else was he supposed to do? Tony Stark was in his apartment, talking to his aunt, and looking for him. Either Peter has accidently become a wanted criminal, or Tony knew about his unique ‘side job’.
Then he fought Captain America, got hurt in the process, and somehow ended up as Tony’s personal intern. It was a crazy month.
Tony’s lab was a piece of heaven for any nerd. It was so large that Peter’s voice would echo and bounce off the walls. The windows were huge and wide, offering a glimpse out into the city where people walked with no clue that Peter was watching from above. A long, steel, staircase poked out from behind the glass doors, a staircase that led to a living room where he and Tony would watch films and have dinner together, laughing about trivial things that only they understood.
The lab did make made him feel small sometimes. A borrower that shouldn’t be in the ‘larger’ world and should just retreat back to wherever they came from. But Tony was always there pulling him back, making him feel welcome and…
Oh no.
Becoming a genuinely nice, supportive, and generous father figure… which nobody saw coming. Not himself, not Tony, or May. Even Pepper, Rhodey and Steve Rogers would raise their eyebrow at what was developing. Tony said it himself in interviews (what? Peter was a hardcore fan), he wasn’t the ‘dad’ type. So, why did it feel so much like it?
That’s when Peter decided he needed to distance himself before he was the reason Tony Stark kicked the bucket.
Peter had so many excuses why he suddenly couldn’t come to the lab anymore. He’s too busy saving the streets, his long lost second cousin was in town, May was ill, or he just hadto do academic decathlon again otherwise he’d get kicked out of school for good.
It had been two weeks, five days, and a few hours since he’s seen Tony. Tony’s been texting him non-stop (which changed their dynamic a bit, since Peter was the one that was triple texting him every hour or so when he first got his number), asking him when he’s available and if he’s doing okay. Peter’s been responding… sort of… but has been saying there’s no way he can come over and he’s so sorry. And he’s fine! He’s just so, so, soooo busy.
He couldn’t just say ‘sorry I don’t want to see you, because if I do, I’m scared you’ll die’. He guesses most people would find that weird.
Right now Peter’s sat in the middle of an academic decathlon meeting, trying his best to pay attention as his phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, answering whatever question he’s asked. Flash glares at him, not liking that he’s suddenly interested in this again and wanting him out so he can get his place back on the team.
Peter’s trying his best to pay attention, but he can’t stop thinking about his… predicament. He loved Mr Stark. He loved going to the lab and using all the amazing equipment. It was a dream come true, to be honest. Whenever Peter dreamed of who he’d be growing up, he’d imagine himself in a lab building things most people would never even imagine. He’d change the world, he said, and Ben would always nod and agree. He would say ‘there’s nothing out there that you couldn’t do, Pete’.
Except save you, Peter would say now.
Peter’s not sure if Tony’s even on the same page, or even the same book. What if Peter explained to him why he’s been away and Tony freaks out? What if he thinks they weren’t that close at all and for Peter to think of him as a dad was terrifying and wrong? He could kick him out, and then those two weeks they’ve been apart would turn into years.
The questions keep coming and Peter would be lying if he said he didn’t want to fall asleep right now. He was bored, imaging the type of stuff he’d be doing in the lab. Then the questions stop. Peter looks up, confused, as his teammates gasp and chatter amongst themselves and his teacher looks so shocked that he doesn’t care to stop them.
Peter looks over to the door to see what has grabbed all their attention. His jaw drops, seeing Tony Stark stood against the door with his car keys hanging from his fingers. He’s wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans, with a big jacket over his shoulders, something he’d wear when they’d work together. He’d normally wear something like a three-piece suit whenever he went outside, never knowing when the paparazzi would show. ‘I have to look my best, kid’, he said when Peter asked why he had so many blazers.
“Peter Parker,” he says, walking up to him. “You’ve been ignoring my text messages.”
Peter glances around as his classmates’ stare at him in shock. He rubs the back of his neck, not knowing what to say as Tony’s eyes bare into the side of his head. “Uh, well, I- no, I haven’t. I haven’t been ignoring you. I’ve replied.”
“No, you haven’t,” Tony says.
“Yes, I have!”
“Not in your usual way,” Tony says. “And you’re missing our lab session. Again. So, I thought I’d come pick you up, so you have no excuses. Is that okay?” he says, turning his attention to Mr Harrington who nods and doesn’t dare to say anything. Tony does that to people. “Cool. Come on, kid. Let’s go.”
Peter has no choice, does he?
He grabs his bag, waving to Ned and MJ as he walks beside Tony and is scared of his own voice. Normally Happy would pick him up from school, so he’s never actually gone in one of the many sport cars that Tony owns. The car is slick, and red, with an open roof that’s currently closed so nobody would jump in and steal it. It’s parked amongst other cars, looking out of place in Midtown’s car park. Peter knows which one is his immediately.
Peter goes to open the door, but Tony stops him.
“Uh-huh- we need to talk first, mister,” Tony says.
“Can’t we do that in the lab, it’s cold out here and people might be snooping,” Peter says. He’s surprised when Tony’s jacket tugs around him. He leans into it, forgetting the cold. Tony’s looking at him like Ben did, and Peter hates that. He doesn’t want Tony to get hurt. “Mr Stark, I’ve just been busy. I’m not ignoring you.”
Tony shakes his head once, “See, I did buy that one at first. I thought ‘yeah, the kid’s got stuff he needs to do, and I can’t keep him cooped up in my lab forever’. But then you said you’re busy saving the streets… but that’s just not true, is it? Because I checked the suit, and you haven’t been out in weeks. So, that must mean you’re lying,” he taps the side of his car, biting his lip. He doesn’t make eye contact with Peter… which is odd, because Tony’s usually the most confident person he knows and for him to be acting like this… Peter doesn’t know what to think. “And if you’re lying about that, then how can I believe all these other lies you’re telling me?”
Peter looks to the floor. He doesn’t say anything at first, because he doesn’t know what to say. Tony’s here now, sure, but if they got closer then he’d lose him and it’s not something he wants to go through again. He can’t. Imagining himself curled up in bed, desperately wishing he could’ve said goodbye or hugged that person one more time. It’s a torment he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
“Peter?” Tony asks, finally looking up at him.
Its then Peter realises he has tears falling down his face, cascading like a slow stream on a summer’s day. He’s not out of control, sobbing until he can’t breathe, he just looks to the floor and the tears simply fall out.
“Hey, kid,” Tony says, walking over and putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder. He squeezes it, tugs his jacket around him tighter and creases his brow. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, touching Peter’s jaw gently with his forefinger so he looks up and meets his eyes.
Peter sees the love in Tony’s eyes, feels it from his touch and his comfort. He doesn’t understand why Tony’s this kind to him, why anyone could love somebody like him who failed to save his own uncle. He drops his head onto Tony’s chest and his crying accelerates. Tony’s wrapping his arms around him, touching his lips to the top of Peter’s hair. “It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing his back. His hug feels like paradise, it makes Peter finally breathe for what feels like the first time in two weeks. Tony squeezes him tight, turning down whatever anxiety he had trapped in his chest. “I’m here, Peter.”
But what if you’re not… Peter thinks. What if you’re not here anymore and it’s all my fault? The world can’t lose someone like you. And being in his life, present like any good dad would be, is putting him at risk.
“I don’t- I don’t want to lose you,” Peter whispers into Tony’s chest, hoping it’s loud enough for him to hear because he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to repeat it again. He’s holding onto to Tony like a lifeline, barely wanting to let go when Tony pulls away. He lets him though, wiping his eyes with Tony’s sleeve as soon as his arms are freed.
“You’re not going to lose me, Pete. I just want to know what’s happening in that head of yours,” he smiles softly, poking the side of Peter’s head with his pinkie. He doesn’t do it hard, just gently. His lips were thin and firm, creased out into a frown. His voice was deep, unsteady, watching Peter like he was about to cry again at any moment.
“That’s the problem,” Peter says. “Mr Stark, every single person who’s been there for me- has been like a…,” he says. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard to just say it. Why is it so hard? Seconds bypass that feels like minutes, and Peter’s stomach churns… he opens his eyes again, “like a… dad to me, they’ve all died. So- so if I let you care for me then what’s to say you’re not next? If I just have bad luck, or if I’m cursed- or even if it’s all coincidental, I don’t care. I really don’t want you to die.”
“Oh, kid,” Tony says. Tony doesn’t know much about his dad and uncle Ben because Peter was closed off about them. He didn’t talk much about how their deaths made him feel because he didn’t want to remember it most of the time. He didn’t like to recall crying for months on end until he had nothing left to cry. It’s just something he did. He kept everything inside until someone mentioned something slightly related to them, which is when the emotions would explode.
“I’m not going anywhere, Peter. I know losing people is scary. It hurts, and it sucks, but what would be worse is looking back and realising you didn’t treasure the time you had with someone because you were too scared of it ending. Things end, Pete. I’m not going to be around forever, but I’m here now. I’m here, wanting to be around for you, and I’m not going anywhere until I have to. It’s not your fault that you lost people. It’s nothing to do with who you are. You’re not cursed, kid,” Tony says. His voice is so soft, so supportive and kind. He takes Peter’s hand and squeezes it gently, using his free hand to ruffle Peter’s hair (which, for once, Peter accepts and doesn’t move out of the way of. He didn’t style it much this morning anyway). “I love you, Pete, and I’ve learnt to love being this weird pseudo mentor/dad figure to you, and it scared me when you took a step back. All I need from you is to be happy. Don’t worry about me, you can’t get rid of Tony Stark easily.”
Peter nods, scared of crying again or rambling for so long that Tony took his speech back and left him in the middle of the parking lot. He tugs Tony’s jacket around himself again, and it felt like Tony’s hug all over again. He wondered if Tony would let him steal it. All he needed was his big-round doe eyes (according to Pepper) and Tony would do anything for him.
“I love you too, Mr Stark,” Peter whispers, like he’s scared of admitting it.
What’s the chances Tony gets struck by lightning right now just from Peter saying, ‘I love you’. It might be low, but there’s always a chance. But for now, he decides to take Tony’s advice. He decides to live in the moment because who knows where the future might lead them?
…
Turns out Peter’s ‘curse’ would strike again, only a few years later (for him). Peter failed to save him, only watched from afar as that same storm returned and Tony snapped his fingers. He saved the world, sure, but Peter lost his.
Over Tony’s grave, only two weeks later, he laid flowers and shut his eyes so tight before he cried over them. He wore that same jacket, which now fit him properly. Here’s to the rest of his life never seeing Tony again, all because he opened his mouth and said he cared.
“I told you, Mr Stark,” he whispered. “I’m just bad luck.”