Tony waits inside the tinted sports car outside of Midtown High, scrolling through his phone to pass the time.
“Come on kid, what’s taking so long?” He drops the phone into his lap, having grown bored, and drums his fingers on the steering wheel.
He checks his watch, noting that school had ended nearly 20 minutes ago, as the last of the kids flooded out of the doors. Still no sign of Peter, until a flash of blue catches his eye. He sees, what he's pretty confident is Peter, in his blue Midtown sweater with his back turned to Tony. It looks like he’s talking to someone but he can’t quite tell who, or even what they look like.
He picks his phone back up to send Peter a quick text.
Hurry up kid, I ain’t getting any younger out here.
Tony watches Peter fish the cell out of his back pocket moments after the text goes through. He checks his phone and immediately turns around, eyes frantic, before his gaze lands on Tonys’ car, face pale. His hands shoot out in front of him, pushing whoever was standing there further behind the building to take them, and himself, out of Tonys’ view. A few moments pass before Peter comes back out, face pale and moving hastily. As he scurries across the driveway and into the parking lot, Tony notices his knuckles are white from gripping his bookbag straps. The door opens and Peter throws his bag inside, quickly shutting the door and reaching for the seatbelt.
“Mr. Stark it’s a Wednesday, I thought I was walking home today. I didn’t forget about a lab day did I? And doesn’t Happy usually pick me up on our days?” Peter started questioning immediately and Tony didn’t miss the way his hands shook as he buckled himself in.
“I just thought it would be a nice surprise, It didn’t occur to me that maybe you wouldn’t like that,” Tony says simply, sounding slightly discouraged.
Peter feels guilty, thinking maybe he could’ve worded it better. “Well, no, I-I didn’t mean it like that Mr. Stark, I just didn’t expect it is all.”
Tony glances in the rearview to look at the kid, seeing that his fingers still tremble slightly, his face is sickly pale, and his breathes are purposely even as if he’s counting them.
“What’s wrong with you kid? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Me? Oh no, I-I’m fine Mr. Stark! Really! Right as rain! So, um, what are we working on today?” Peter is quick to protest and changes the subject not-so-subtly.
Tony decides to brush it off and lets the conversation shift, watching Peters’ color return only after they’ve comfortably dived into another subject. They discuss their usual nerdy topics the whole way back to the tower and by the time they arrive Peter is back to his usual happy self, jumping out of the car to race Tony to the front door. He plays along, just happy to see the kid back to normal and hoping that he’ll tell Tony what’s bothering him when he’s ready.
The pattern continues for a few weeks, Tony randomly showing up unannounced and Peter hurrying into the car flustered and jittery until eventually, he starts to expect it. Now, he checked for Tony all the time, smiling before trotting over to the car. Although this time he notices that Peter is quiet and calm as he stares out the window, deep in thought as he chews his lower lip.
“Something on your mind, kid?” Tony breaks the silence.
“Something like that.” Peter gives a soft smile, hiding something Tony can’t quite place.
Sadness?
“What are we working on today, Mr. Stark?” Peter is quick to change the subject yet again.
“I was thinking we would take the night off, just us, pizza, junk food, all that jazz. Whaddya think, Underoos?” Tony glances in the rearview to see a grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Can we watch Star Wars?”
“Duh.”
~~~~~~
They’re an hour and two pizzas into their movie night when Tony notices Peter starting to zone out again, his lower lip pulled in between his teeth. When he doesn’t snap out of it after a while he decides to pause the movie and call his name, which he doesn’t respond to until the second time.
“Huh? Oh, sorry,” Peter smiles sheepishly and turns to the tv, waiting expectantly.
“What’s going on up there Pete?” Tony presses softly.
“Oh, I’m fine Mr. Stark, really, just a little distracted. You can unpause the movie now.”
He doesn’t unpause it, instead, he searches Peters’ face for clues like it might give away what he’s hiding.
“Have I not done enough to make you feel like you can trust me with anything?” The question is genuine and for a moment Tony sees guilt cross Peters’ face.
“What? No, it’s nothing like that Mr. Stark I just-” He pauses when his throat starts to tighten up.
“You just what?”
Peter opens his mouth to speak again but quickly snaps it shut again and looks away when his eyes begin to well up. His hands fly up to his face just as his eyes screwed shut and a tear falls onto his shirt, a small hiccup escaping from beneath his fingers. Tony leans forward to grab at his wrists and gently pull them away from his face, revealing the saddest brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life.
“Sweetheart,” Tony has an unusual softness to his voice that Peter swore only he had ever heard, “What's got you so upset?”
“I-I’m just afraid-” Peter is sobbing openly now, hiccups choking up his sentences.
“Hey, hey, it’s me, alright? You don’t need to be afraid, you’re safe with me, Underoos, I promise.” He can practically feel his heart shatter in his chest at Peters’ broken words and the way his hands trembled in his.
“I don’t w-want you to see me a-any differently.” His gaze has dropped to the floor, face burning with shame as his body shakes with each sob, dangerously close to a full-blown anxiety attack.
“Peter, I swear on my mother's grave that you don’t have to worry about me feeling any differently than I do about you right now. Whatever it is, you can tell me, kid.” The words tumble out faster than Tony had meant for them to, and maybe they are a bit extreme, but he finds that it doesn’t make them any less true.
Peters’ eyes widen at the statement, knowing Tony never talks about his mom. His sobs seem to subside slightly, taking deep breaths as he takes in the words.
“Take your time, buddy. Deep breaths, okay? You don’t have to tell me right this second.” He coaxes the kid into his chest in a gentleness that can only be described as parental.
Tony rubs a hand up and down his spine, doing the best he knows how to calm Peter who has nestled his head into the crook of his neck, inhaling in gasps.
“Breathe in with me, kid. Can you do that for me? Let's try it together.” Peter only nods in response as one of his hands is pulled from his grip around Tonys’ neck and pressed flat to his chest.
Peter feels Tonys’ chest rise dramatically beneath his palm and he does his best to copy him, exhaling shakily with his firm rhythm. There’s room in between breaths for Peter to get a few quick pants in before he breathes in deep again, whether or not it’s intentional he can’t tell but he’s grateful regardless. They do this a few more times, Peter using less and less effort to follow Tonys’ lead until eventually, he’s simply sniffling into his shirt. When he no longer feels the exaggerated swell of his breath beneath his palm, Peter pulls himself from the comfort of his mentor's neck, gaze meeting worried eyes.
“Talk to me, Peter.” Tony was now genuinely worried that maybe Peter had done something he was too afraid to admit to, or maybe something happened on patrol.
“Um,” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and sighed before he tried to form a sentence, “Well there’s this guy who’s been really nice to me lately, like sticking up for me and everything.”
Tony waits patiently, eyes never leaving Peters’ as fresh tears spill silently down his face.
“We’ve been hanging out after school and stuff so I guess we got kinda close?” He pauses, anxiously twisting his fingers and deep in thought as he struggles for words. “He asked- W-we started- I mean, he’s my-” Peter sighs in frustration and throws his hands down.
And then it clicks. So suddenly it’s as if the kid himself had reached out and smacked him.
“Peter. Are you trying to tell me that you’re gay?” Tony stares at him blankly, shock mixed with confusion as to why he could have possibly been so scared of such a statement.
He slowly nods his head, gaze locked on the floor once again. Tony lets out a breath of relief, all his worries of Peter possibly hurting someone or himself now melting away.
“Kid,” He reaches out to tilt his chin upward, looking into his bloodshot eyes with all the love he could possibly muster, “I’m Bisexual.”
For a moment, all Peter does is stare, blinking owlishly.
“You’re- What?”
“I’m into guys too, kiddo.” Tony repeats himself matter-of-factly and full of that confidence that Peter looked up to so much.
“You are? You never told me that.” Peter visibly relaxes, almost sinking into the couch in his relief.
“I’m in love with Pepper, I didn’t think it would make much of a difference.” He shrugs. “ Besides, even if I wasn’t Bisexual, the way love would never bother me. Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”
“I dunno, I just thought- I didn’t want it to change anything.”
“Well it definitely doesn’t, you can always come to me about these things, okay?” Peter nods, finally smiling to Tonys’ relief, “Who made you think you had to hide that?”
“Um, everyone I guess? There are only a few openly queer people at my school and they aren’t always treated kindly. Even Mrs. Green sometimes makes comments” Peter wipes his bloodshot eyes.
“Love is one of the most amazing things we experience as people, don’t let anyone tell you how to do it. If we can’t love who we love then what’s the point?” He says.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right.”
“Mm, how could I forget?” Peter chuckles. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, for- Um, you know-” He makes a gesture toward Tonys’ chest.
“Anytime, Underoos. Come on, let's finish our movie night.”
He pulls Peter closer, wrapping one of the many blankets around the kid’s shoulders, and rests his head on the older man's shoulder. They unpause the movie and continue watching, only for the both of them to fall asleep together on the couch.
And if Midtown High received a tempered suggestion that may or may not have convinced them to let Mrs. Green go, well, then that was nobody’s business but a certain Iron-dad’s.