when he slightly knocked over his mug of coffee, peter instinctively pulled up the bottom of his sweater to quickly wipe the droplets off of mr. stark’s counters. they were at the avengers compound, the internship, the lab, it was night. it was a meaningless gesture, something as instinctive as breathing. but no, nothing ever really is very simple for peter.
tony’s voice was clipped with shock. “peter.”
now, that caught him off guard. “what?” peter asked, genuine confusion marking his features.
yes, but then, he realized all at once.
“shit.” he dropped the hem.
tony was beside him in an instant, hands on the sweater. peter’s breath hitched at the speed and determination of the elder, frozen in place. tony lifted it up, revealing the very distinct hand-shaped bruises around his waist.
tony’s questions were one-worded. naturally. “who? when?” tony’s face was full of uncertainty and concern and his voice full of anger.
peter’s response was barely above a whisper. “patrol.”
“no,” tony replied, voice still dripping with impatience, “no time for bullshit, peter. karen lets me know any injuries you sustain on patrol. none of them are this. i need a real answer.”
peter only stared back into his mentor’s eyes, as if afraid to break eye contact, as if desperately searching his eyes for emotion, for anger, for a sign he was upset. looking into his eyes for what tony was about to do. tony hated how perceptive the kid was, hated it with every bone in his body.
but peter didn’t find what he was looking for, tony supposed, because his gaze dropped to the floor. tony only stared at him, not conveying any patience in the stance of his body. and so peter gave in, the people-pleaser he was. his voice was so quiet, barely could be heard, but tony picked it up, no problem.
“may’s boyfriend.”
and that was it, for tony. if there was any graciousness, any sense of propriety, of patience, a millimeter of his temper left, it went up in smoke with those two words. because tony quite literally saw red, seething with anger for a faceless figure in his mind, someone he’d never met.
“last night,” peter continued. and tony stared at him, his gaze completely incomprehensible. peter looked up into his eyes, again, and all tony could notice was how small he was. he forgot that, a lot, actually, which was surprising. peter was always an integral part of his team, of his life, and he was so strong and so good that it didn’t often cross his mind how few years the boy had behind him, and how bad those years had hurt. he was a kid, for gods sake. he hadn’t met anyone who’d lost so much this young.
tony didn’t want to hear this, quite frankly. even so, he needed to know more.
“what happened, exactly?”
peter opened his mouth to respond but his breath caught in his throat again, he couldn’t say anything. so instead he reached for the neck of his sweater and pulled the fabric down exposing the collarbone and some of his chest.
lined down peter’s pale skin were marks that tony knew so well. hell, he’d made lots of them in the past, and gotten them too. but the fog of pain behind peter’s eyes told a much different history than tony’s own.
tony stopped breathing, basically. if he was angry before, he couldn’t comprehend how he felt now. it broke the metaphorical scale. he couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t understand. he felt the beginnings of a panic attack but he swallowed it down because hell, not now, not now.
tony’s breath hitched and he ran a hand across his face. “kid, i need you to tell me what happened to you, exactly.”
peter blinked. “oh, well. i don’t know- he, he pinned me down, and he just kept, touching, violently, and i couldn’t stop him. i couldn’t hurt him.”
this snapped some cord inside of tony. he knew the kid to be self-sacrificial, and this was all too much. his voice was loud now, angry. “you can’t worry about may here, kid, if a guy has got you pinned to the ground and is hurting you you can’t be thinking of anyone but yourself, peter! you have to have some kind of self-preservation instinct!”
a frustrated tear fell from peter. he began, desperately trying to make his mentor understand, “no you don’t understand, i couldn’t. if i could have i would have, but i couldn’t move, i couldn’t breathe i couldn’t think. i just froze. i took it. my body remembers, i think, and it freezes, because i’ve been in this situation before, when i was a kid, when-”
“westcott.” tony said, and he was seething, because he knew, and also because peter was still a kid. such a kid.
peter flinched at the name, but continued. “yes and i just, i froze. and i don’t know what to do now, because what if it happens again? will i have to keep taking it? i mean, what if i’m on patrol, if i’m spiderman, and someone decides to- and i can’t do anything. and i’m revealed, and they-”
“no, stop it, kid. i won’t let that happen. none of us will let that happen.”
even though peter and tony were alone in that room, the us still hung heavy with meaning.
peter looked up at him with those exhausted red-rimmed doe eyes, through wet lashes. “mr. stark, i just feel so dirty, all the time, i feel so-”
and tony hugged him then, pressing peter’s face into his chest, feeling his shirt dampen with the tears.
“you’re staying here tonight, okay? and we are telling may.”
peter didn’t respond, only looked at the floor, hair still pressed to tony’s chest. “i’m sorry.” he said softly.
“none of that, underoos.”