What is in a Name

  Although he might not necessarily admit or agree to it, Peter has always been an intelligent kid. It was a plain fact. He never had that big of difficulty when it came to learning or understanding something, especially regarding knowledge or ideas. 

  Yet, there was one thing that he had never been able to fully grasp the idea of.

  It was a simple concept of a father.

  Of course, he knows what a father is. As you have already read above, he is smart enough to know what the term refers to. It is just that knowing something intellectually and experiencing it are two different things. And Peter just never had a figure to consider as a father in his life. He never even had a chance to use the word on anyone.

  Well, not until now. Now Peter is living with his biological father ― the "authentic" father ― in the same house, eating the same meal every day.

  But it is just too late. Peter already spent the entirety of nearly fifteen years without having a father. No word was more foreign to him than "Dad." It just isn't in his linguistic system anymore ― or maybe it was never in it in the first place. So, how is he supposed to use a word that he doesn't even know?

  Sometimes, he wonders how one uses the name so naturally. How Harley calls Tony by the word like it was nothing. How anyone can use that particular word. They all make it seem so simple. But, every time he hears it, Peter feels exposed. The word seems to crawl up all over his skin, pricking him.

  Peter breathes the cool air deeply into his throat as he readies himself. Then he moves his lips.

  Dad.

  He tries forming the word in his mouth. The sound is there, but the word is not. The vocabulary may be there, but the meaning is absent. It rings hollow. It is merely generic, for it is a name directed at no one. And just as the empty nothing that it is, the term vanishes completely without any trace, flying into the thin air and blackness of the sky. 

  Why bother, anyway? He never had any problem living his life without saying it. He doesn't have any problem with how he calls his father. Even Tony doesn't seem to mind about it ― and he and Peter should be the only ones that can and should matter in it. 

  But for some reason, it started to bother Peter. It keeps creeping up like a thorn in his side. It trespasses his mind out of nowhere, disturbing him in the middle of the night. It is the reason why Peter is leaning against the railing of the balcony as of this moment, trying to clear his head enough to go to sleep. He rests his chin on his arms on top of the railing. He looks down at the colorful lights of the city beneath him.

  From behind him, the door opens. Peter jerks and turns his head around with wide eyes. At that moment, he is the perfect embodiment of a deer caught in the headlights.

  Tony is standing by the glass door into the penthouse. Peter half expects him to start asking questions or even scold him for being out so late. However, Tony doesn't say anything in particular as he eyes him.

  "I nearly locked you out," he says. His tone is casual and even jokeful.

  Peter scoffs.

  "No, you didn't," he says. "You never lock this door."

  "And how can you be so sure?" Says Tony.

  Peter shrugs his shoulders.

  "Why would you even lock this door?" He asks. "We're like on the hundredth floor. It's not like you can expect a robber to come in through here from outside."

  "First of all, it's eighty-eight," Tony retorts. "Second, you can never be sure about that. And the kind of guys that do break in through here will probably come for more than a simple robbery."

  Peter raises an eyebrow at him.

  "Sounds like that comes from an experience."

  But Tony leaves him hanging as he refuses to clarify. Instead, he walks toward Peter and stands beside him. He stretches out his hand, in which he is holding a can of Sprite. Peter takes it, wondering if Tony knew that he preferred Sprite over Coke in the evening or if it was just a coincidence.

  "We're allowed to drink soda before bed now?" He asks instead.

  "I'm just making an exception for today," Tony answers as he opens his can of the same beverage. He takes a sip before placing his elbow on the railing and looking at Peter. "So, what's got you all depressed?"

  There it was.

  Peter scoffs and gulps down a mouthful of his soda.

  "I'm not depressed," he says. "I just couldn't sleep."

  "Okay then, why couldn't you sleep?"

  "You don't think that I'm just gonna tell you, do you?"

  "As a parent, I have both the obligation and the right to pry," Tony says.

  "And as a teenager, I have the right and the reason to be difficult," remarks Peter.

  Tony pinches the bridge of his nose.

  "I knew this day would come," he says. "I saw this coming since the very day that you two met."

  "Don't you think you're more responsible for how I am than Harley is?" Peter deadpans, drinking Sprite once more. "You're the one that gave us the genes."

  Peter freezes at his own words. He realizes what he is saying only after it leaves his mouth. It brings him back to what he was thinking about only a moment ago. He turns his eyes to the night sky as if avoiding meeting Tony's eyes. He knows that he is far from subtle, so he doesn't even hope that Tony doesn't notice anything.

  Sure enough, Tony glances at him with unasked questions as he takes a sip from his can.

  "Peter," he says. His voice is quiet, which means that he means business. Serious business.

  Peter refuses to look at him. He just drinks the Sprite as he stares at nothing. Although Tony hasn't said it directly, he knows that he is urging him. But what is he supposed to say? Is he supposed to just outright ask him if it bothered him that Peter called Tony by his name?

  No. Peter can't do that. He just can't bring the topic out from within him.

  Thankfully, Tony doesn't ask more questions. Instead, he starts monologuing.

  "Frankly, I never thought I'd be a parent. Or more like, I never really wanted to be a parent. Because I thought I'd never even become one, let alone a good one."

  Peter remains still as he listens.

  "Because when I was growing up, I was in a rough relationship with my dad. He wasn't exactly a man of affection ― the thing he was good at was pretty much just scowling and telling me off for my behaviors. Well, he had valid points, but I was just too young and stubborn to admit that."

  Tony pauses to sip his soda.

  "Even back then, I knew that he wasn't just an asshole. That he truly cared about me. But I was just pissed that he wouldn't try and show it. So I decided to get on his nerves even more. That led us both to just keep going for each other's throats all the time."

  Tony's eyes grow distant as if he is losing himself in his thoughts.

  "But I believe that we did it because we knew just how much we were caring about each other. And we were thinking that we had time to make it right. That one day, one of us will make the first move to fix everything. We were just too proud to be that first person. And because of that, I never got to say what I wanted to say ― what I needed to say ― to him."

  His gaze regains focus as it lands on Peter. This time, even Peter cannot help looking back at him.

  "I learned it the hard way that chances do not last forever. And that's why I want to do better with you and Harley than I did with my father. You two may not have been part of my initial plan, but I never regret finding you, having you. And I'll do anything to provide the best life I can give you. It's part of my responsibility."

  Tony looks directly into Peter's eyes as he finishes his word. Peter feels his heart beat harder in his chest. A lump forms and grows inside his throat. He avoids the strong gaze of Tony's as he gulps down the soda in his attempt to get rid of the lump.

  "If you have any trouble, just know that you are not alone anymore," Tony says. "It doesn't have to be me, but I want you to have someone you can talk to. Someone you can trust."

  Peter feels the strange feeling of his eyes heating up. He doesn't know why, but he just wants to cry all of a sudden. He tries hard to stop himself from tearing up, but emotions are bursting through his crazily beating heart. He needs to change the subject fast. So he clears his throat to open up the tightened throat and spits out the first thing that comes to his mind. 

  "How did you find me?"

  Peter is just so desperate to say anything that he doesn't even fully consider what he is saying. When he does realize just what came out of his mouth, he feels a strong urge to smack himself. He had one purpose, and he managed to mess it up. Then again, it was one question that has always been lingering in the back of his mind. It was probably why it just slipped out. It just needed to come out at some point ― although it could have been at a different time.

  Tony stares at Peter, taken aback at the abrupt turn of the conversation. Peter takes the chance to try and sort the awkward mess out rather panickily.

  "I mean, when did you know― like, you know, that I… existed? How did you find out about me?"

  Well, that does not help in any way. Charming as ever.

  Tony chuckles while Peter blushes, closing his mouth shut. It is such a relief that it is deep in the night ― at least Tony cannot see the tinge of red on Peter's face.

  "A great coincidence, I should say," says Tony. "Which shouldn't have been a coincidence, honestly. But it became one when I failed to read the letter your mother sent me seven years ago."

  Peter whips his head around to look at him in surprise. 

  "Yeah, Mary sent me a letter seven years ago, telling me that you were mine. I later found out that it was probably sent just before the plane crash. So, technically, I was supposed to know about you back then. But somehow the letter got mixed up with my other things. And I just happened to finally open it last year. Then I started searching for you, which wasn't that hard once I knew where to look."

  "Mom… sent you a letter?" Peter repeats stupidly.

  Tony nods.

  "She wanted me to know and take responsibility for you," he says. "She thought you deserved to have a father in your life. And she was right."

  There is no word that Peter can say. How can he say anything? 

  "It is my fault that you had to live in the kind of environment that you did," says Tony. His voice was already calm, but it sounds even deeper with the silent weight. "If I opened that letter when I got it, it wouldn't have been like this."

  "It's not really your fault," Peter says. It comes out without thinking, more automatically and for the sake of manners, but he still, surprisingly, means what he is saying. "Maybe it just turned out this way for the best."

  "Well, I would have been even more clueless back then than I am now," Tony tries to lighten the mood. "Still, could have done without all the shitty foster home things."

  Peter has to agree. "Yeah, I could have done without that."

  They drink the rest of their soda in silence, only listening to the summer breeze and distant ambient noises.

  "Feeling better?" Tony finally asks.

  Peter chuckles rather uncomfortably as he shrugs his shoulders. He has always been such a terrible liar: he can't just pretend that he is fine with all the emotional baggage still clinging to his back.

  Well, he can still dodge it with a bit of sarcasm.

  "Isn't that supposed to be my line? What, am  I  supposed to feel better after you just dumped your sentimental backstory on me?" He says.

  "You think that was easy for me?" Tony counters. "That was totally out of my character and you know that. I'm just setting an example for you."

  Peter shakes his head, rolling his eyes. He sets his arms on top of the guard rail and rests his head on them once again. 

  "Still don't wanna talk about it?" Tony asks.

  Peter huffs. "You said I don't have to talk to you necessarily."

  "Yes, but you won't talk to anyone if I stop bothering you about it."

  Peter doesn't respond to him, for there is no truer word than that. He internally groans. He knows how persistent Tony can be. Who said Tony Stark didn't have any superpower? If nagging and getting on someone's nerves don't count as superpowers, then they were at least one of his biggest talents ― probably even bigger than his intelligence.

  But, Peter can be just as stubborn. It is in his genes.

  "Well, we've got all night," Tony says with a shrug.

  "Aren't you supposed to tell me to go to bed early?" Peter gives him a deadpanning look.

  "I told you that already, but you're the one that chose to sneak out. And just because you're in your room, doesn't mean that you're asleep anyway."

  Peter huffs a laugh. Tony is clearly trying to annoy him until he gives in and just spills everything.

  Yet, for some reason, Peter doesn't hate it. At least, not as much as he thought he would. It all feels more or less natural to have someone other than himself with him. Maybe he has become used to it by now. His defense mechanism still functions without defect, but he has to admit that his guard had loosened up a little since he moved in.

  And now… a part of him even seems to enjoy having someone around him like this. To have someone's attention to him. It is a feeling that he has long forgotten ― or maybe he has never known it in the first place. Did he ever have anyone that had shown enough devotion and care toward him?

  "I never thought you, of all people, would be a helicopter parent." Peter keeps his tone light to try and keep Tony off his back. "You have this― reputation."

  "Well, I am Iron Man. Hovering is kinda my thing," Tony says.

  Peter looks at him with horror.

  "You did not just pull a dad joke," he says.

  "What can I say? I am a dad," Tony remarks. And is that pride in his voice?

  "Seriously?" Peter says as he gives him a disapproving look. 

  "I don't even intend to make puns. I'm just stating the facts," says Tony. 

  "Here's another fact," Peter replies. "It's annoying."

  Tony puts on a disgruntled mask of expression on his face.

  "Alright, you ungrateful scamp," he says.

  Peter knows that he is only kidding, but he still wants to correct him. He is not ungrateful ― if anything, he is grateful that Tony bothered to go through all the trouble to get Peter out of the hellhole of a foster home, out of all the beatings and starvation, to give him a life of wealth. It's not the kind of chance that an orphan would get every day. No, it was one of the rarest cases for a helpless kid living in a foster home to have a long-lost parent who is a billionaire to come and find them.

  "I'm not ungrateful," says Peter, his voice sounding rather whiny. "I'm just not used to it. You know, having to live with…."

  Once again, he can't say the word out loud. Even just making the sound of it without meaning seems impossible.

  Because everything is in a name. To call someone with a certain title or a name means that you are forming a relationship with someone through it. It means that Peter is to acknowledge that specific relationship he is to create and develop with Tony. The name he uses defines the connection ― the… bond.

  Then it flashes through Peter's mind. It is the moment that it finally hits him: that that has been the very reason he couldn't say the word. Something inside him is stopping him from accepting it. 

  Something called fear.

  It is a simple truth. Yet, sometimes, the simplest things can be the most powerful as well. And once Peter realizes it, there is no way he can ignore it now.

  "I'm just… I don't like someone interfering in my life," he says.

  Because I like being alone, is what he does not say.

  Because it has always been the best choice for him. It was better to be by himself than to rely on someone only to lose them. If he didn't know what it is like to have someone, he didn't have to know what he was missing. And if he didn't know what he was missing, he didn't need to feel hurt or regret. Just like how he never really had to feel jealous of other kids having a father ― he didn't know what he was missing out on to even envy them.

  Yes, he knew he was only bullshitting himself. Then, again, he didn't really have any choice, did he? He's always been alone since he lost his mother. Perhaps even when he was living with his mother as well. Although his mom never neglected him or abused him, Peter could feel that her affections were empty ― as if there was no living soul or real emotions in them. His mother was there but never there at the same time. Although, he never really complained about it. It was just how life was for him, and being alone was just his nature.

  Or was it? He is not sure anymore. All of a sudden, everything he has ever believed, every memory he had about his past seems like some kind of a weird dream. What was real? Was even anything real?

  "Like it or not," Tony says, "you're not the only one living in the world. Literally. And as long as other people exist, someone will interfere at some point in some ways."

  Peter keeps looking out at the sky.

  "And there are always more people than you think that care about you. But it's you that decides to either accept them or push them away." Tony pauses as if he hesitates his next word, but eventually adds, "From what I've experienced, it's better to accept it when you can."

  This time, Peter cannot stop himself from turning his head to look at Tony, who turns to meet his eyes. He gives Peter a faint smirk and pats him lightly on the shoulder. His hand lingers for a few seconds, its warmth spreading Peter's cooled body. 

  "You should go back to bed before FRIDAY decides to rat on us," Tony says before taking his hand off. He sounds as nonchalant and lighthearted as if he never said the kind of thing he did only a minute ago. "She's practically Pepper's bug these days."

  Peter slowly nods, but he is reluctant to move right away. So many different thoughts flash through within his head that he's sure that he won't be able to sleep that easily. Thankfully, Tony doesn't force him. He only crushes the empty can in his hand and starts to walk off toward the door. 

  "By the way," he says. Peter turns his head and finds him standing by the open door, looking back at Peter. "Happy birthday."

  Peter stands still in his spot, blinking at him. He tries to look for his cell phone to check the time, but he only remembers that he left it in his room in the first place. As if he knows what Peter is thinking, Tony chimes in.

  "It's almost one."

  Peter blinks at him. It was around eleven o'clock when he decided to get some fresh air for only a few minutes. He didn't realize that he has been there until he turned fifteen.

  Happy birthday. The two simple words sound so weird in his ears. For a long time, he hardly ever received any birthday wishes, let alone gifts. It has been a long time since he had anything even close to a happy birthday. For the first time in years, Peter can hear the genuine care in the mere two short words. It is a bit uncomfortable, but it is not too displeasing. Still, it is, without a doubt, impactful.

  Peter feels vulnerable. Maybe it is time for him to break out of his own fortress ― to start admitting that he does not want to be alone anymore. 

  Thus, he decides to give himself a gift. He takes a quiet, deep breath and fights against his hesitation.

  "Thanks, Dad."

  It is a small word said in a small voice. But it takes up all the energy and will he can muster, and its aftertaste lingers heavily on his tongue. Most importantly, it holds meaning.

  Peter gulps as his heart starts to beat faster. This time, however, he locks his eyes with Tony ― his dad ― who looks at him with an expression he can't seem to read. Peter's body is slightly shaking as his legs barely manage to support him. He can feel anxiety and uncertainty traveling all throughout his body inside his veins. Yet, something tells Peter that it's not a wrong move.

  A long moment of quietness passes before a smirk appears on Tony's face. 

  "You're welcome," he says.

  Peter nearly falls to his knees as the tension inside him pops like a balloon. It is a good thing that he is still leaning on the guard rail. He might have just implied that he is ready to give the family thing a chance, but it doesn't mean that he wants to break down completely. He wants to maintain his pride and dignity enough not to seem like the helpless orphan kid that he once was.

  He clears his throat as he pushes himself off the rail to turn around and make his way into the penthouse in the most casual manner possible. Then he remembers that he is holding his half-finished Sprite can. There is an opportunity to divert from the awkwardness that is pestering him.

  "Thanks for the present," Peter deadpans as he holds the can before him and gives it a light shake.

  "Glad you liked it," Tony plays along, putting on a proud face. Yet, when Peter reaches him and gets through the door he has been holding for him, he drops the act. "That was not your real birthday present, though."

  Peter shrugs.

  "I wouldn't mind it, though," he says. "Really."

  Because although he is not ready to truly see it just yet, he might have already gotten the best thing he could possibly get in his entire life.