Of Demons and Gold
Tony Stark had never been so uncertainly certain in his life.
He wanted to go, to let go.
Yet something was holding him back.
It loomed like a dark cloud over his conscience, meddling with his every thought and making them indistinguishable from one another.
And if I were to say yes? The man thought, pacing across the manor’s parlor, his breathing gruff. The trip to his home had been strangely silent and yet his mind seemed to be screaming the entire duration, and continued past his doorstep.
I barely know the boy. I barely know him, Tony chided himself and pinched the bridge of his nose, before tentatively running a hand through his hair. His brow had been furrowed for what felt like ages, and the darkened sky outside was of no assistance to his mood.
If he had spoken to me for just a few short minutes more, Peter would hate me. He would also understand why I hate myself.
But how could he rebuff such an innocent spirit? Surely, Peter was well-intentioned. The boy was blatant and spritely, someone who took delight in the littlest of things life had to offer. Tony could tell; the trials of his own adolescence had shaped him into quite an astute judge of character.
But was he being serious? If I go… Tony thought back to Peter’s hands running over that globe, one the elder man himself had never given much of a second thought to. How Peter’s eyes had illuminated at the faintest of a description from lands afar. How Peter’s smile never seemed to wither, and only grow wider when given the slightest opportunity.
Perhaps he desires company, Mr. Stark reasoned, and the only sliver he has currently is mine.
No, that couldn’t be right. The boy had friends, how could someone who exuded inner warmth to such an extent be that alone? Peter had to have sought the older of the two out, to pursue a friendship, to desire to be in the man’s company.
Maybe I’m a means of funding to him. The thought was ridiculous and it was soon flung somewhere out an invisible door. There was no way that boy would use someone of Mr. Stark’s stature for money and not for wisdom and camaraderie, as well.
Mr. Stark had experience, an inheritance, and was cunning but devilish and bold. He could outwit the boy easily, and was sure that the both of them knew. Peter couldn’t pull any hat tricks. He wouldn’t, it went against a moral compass made of gold and kept intact beside his very soul.
There was only one reason that Tony had been asked to go with Peter.
Peter, somehow, sincerely wished to go with Mr. Stark.
Still taken aback by the aberrant decision made by the younger man, Tony stood still, and let out a drained sigh.
Where could he go to escape?
He had been to many far-off places before.
While they were beautiful, he had still felt alone amidst the foreign vegetation and the fresh, endemic cultures.
Tradition, uniqueness, discovery, adventure.
Four words he hadn’t thought of in a while.
Tony was a rich man in a poor state of mind. Surrounded by underserved wealth, he had hit rock bottom and let gold slip through his fingers.
The kind of gold can never be reformed.
Remade.
Did the infamous Tony Stark need to be remade?
He had gained the world and lost his soul.
He had traded purpose for scrupulosity and materialism, and let the things that genuinely mattered go.
Tony Stark was not himself, rather a shell filled with the demons birthed by his regret.
He had hit rock bottom, surrounded by the most precious gems of all time and yet they had meant nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing mattered.
Picking up his coat, the man walked briskly out the door.
It was time to be built, to invent.
To feel.
To go, and to let go.
It was time for Tony Stark to be remade.
-
Rain pattered softly against the foliage and soil as Peter watched it all unfold behind a window, his dainty finger poking at the glass. It drew shapes in a cloudy forming fog, painting a hill, a mountain, a great gully that led to a cerulean sea. Peter could picture it vividly.
If only, he mused, he could feel it and smell it and hear it and taste it all, too.
A smile twitched at his lips when a knock sounded from behind the door- the new door, built to bring shelter from merciless winter rain. Ned had recently constructed a makeshift entrance to the worn-down structure that he, MJ, and Peter lived in, though it was barely even deserving to house a single person.
Add two others and it was nearly impossible to maintain.
Even so, in their poverty, there was prosperity, and Peter had bounded over to the wooden hatch in an instant, hoping to greet his friends as they returned from work.
“Hello-o,” he swung the rickety thing open and was immediately blasted by the rain. Peter’s voice fell just short of passing his lips, for his friends were not the ones standing outside that moment.
They must still be at work.
“Oh, sir,” Peter looked up with wide eyes, as none other than Mister Stark sputtered in the bitter storm. The poor man looked soaked, shivering beneath heavy lavish layers that had been soiled by the harsh outdoors.
“Hey, kid.”
-
Tony was astounded at the teen’s living conditions. Peter resided… here? Tony’s breath hitched in disbelief. Peter simply stepped aside and let his guest in, too, before closing the door at a crooked angle. Tony was still in a state of shock, partially due to the weather, and took a seat on some old stone steps with a hazy look.
“Are you alright sir?” The younger boy asked timidly. Tony shook his head, a hand on his knee, tapping hastily at the fabric of his pants.
“N-no. I mean, yeah, I am, I just..” Tony sighed, and Peter shook his head with a playful laugh.
“Want some tea? It’s not very flavorful, but it’ll warm ya up real nice,” the boy offered, as Tony took off his coat and laid it beside him. His hat came next and he nodded, smoothing down a few stray hairs.
“Sure, kid, and thank you.”
Peter nodded cheerily and was off, leaving the older man in silence.
Was he really about to do this?
Rely on a kid to give him a second chance at life?
It was then that a few raindrops hit his forehead, and Mr. Stark glanced up at the ceiling. It was covered in poorly patched-up leaks, and pails dotted the floor left and right.
Hah. Maybe I’m giving him his.
A bitter chuckle escaped Tony’s throat. No child should ever have to live like this. Where are his parents? The man wondered and glanced around a tad. A few dresses lay half-mended on a chair, beside some open, tattered journals and a couple feathered quills. It appeared as if someone else lived here. A woman, possibly an aspiring novelist, and a man about their age.
“Here you are!”
Tony was snapped out of his assessment as Peter handed him a warm cup brimming with hot liquid, hands a might shakier than usual. Mr. Stark gratefully accepted the drink, and Peter sat down next to him with that smile.
“So, ah,” he stammered awkwardly. “How’d you find out where I’m living?”
Tony huffed. “Kid, this isn’t living, you shoulda told me. And I asked Jarvis, he had seen you round these parts while running errands once.”
“Oh, okay,” Peter nodded, laughing with relief and not suspicion. Tony turned and sipped his drink. Bland, and watery, but just what he had needed.
“Thanks for the tea,” the two chuckled.
“I don’t know if we can even call it that,” Peter grinned, tapping his own cup with his thumb, “but we say it anyways.”
“You gotta make do,” Tony shrugged as Peter nodded while taking an eager sip and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. The boy had gulped down more than he had expected, and was now coughing up a storm of his own as Tony bit back a laugh.
“Slow down there, kid, I get it, you’re thirsty,” the two gave in to their amusement and chuckled heartily at that, before Peter lightly flicked some tea at Tony.
“And you are too,” the brunette urged, pointing out how Tony was still shivering slightly. “So drink!”
Tony rolled his eyes teasingly. “Alright, alright, your wish is my command,” he said with an accent and Peter choked on his beverage again.
The two continued with poorly-done impressions of each other and exchanged light banter for a while, until the indigo sky had faded to black and the rain had ceased. It was then that Tony cleared his throat, lighthearted tone disappearing.
“I came here to thank you,” he started. “Real quick, can I put a hand on your shoulder?”
Peter grinned. “Sure thing, Mister Stark! Thank you for asking me.”
Tony nodded. He greatly valued consent despite the minor gesture. Reaching out, he lightly patted Pete’s arm.
“You were a real comfort to me that other day,” he half-muttered, words failing. “And- and seeing you live like this-” he turned and gestured towards their surroundings, Peter listening, “-it really tears me up inside, kid- you don’t deserve it.”
Taking a few deep breaths, Tony put his fingers to his temples.
“I’ve lost a lot. And I’ve made some bad choices. But I came here to ask you, ask you if you…” his breath became shaky and his hands trembled.
The voices in his head were back again.
Don’t trust him.
He’s using you.
Everyone you see as family leaves you.
Die, die, go throw yourself in front of a damn carriage.
Everyone wants you gone, everyone’s lives are better here without you.
“If you…” Tony continued despite feeling a headache coming on. Peter was silent, his gaze intent as the two met each other’s eyes.
“If you could give me a shot,” Tony concluded, before waving his hands in the air hastily. “Not like, ah, the alcohol kind, the kind you give to someone bleeding and broken inside and-”
“I know what you mean, Mister Stark,” Peter reassured him.
With relief, Tony exhaled and toyed with the fringe on his rain jacket, before dropping it again and letting his gaze meet the floor.
“...great.”
The two fell into silence.
“So…” Peter piped up after some time was taken to think, having finished up his tea.
Tony took a sip of his own again, but it was cold. He set it down with a soft clink as the storm outside finally subsided.
“I want to go with you.”
-
Peter’s jaw dropped to the floor.
Was he hearing things?
“You mean…” his mind had not caught up to his mouth quite yet- thankfully, as if the older man knew this was the case, Tony continued.
“I mean, I’ll fund our travels, pack my bags, leave everything at Stark Stead behind. I’m tired of living here, always doing the same stuff inside the same house with the same… demons constantly screaming and trying to haunt me,” the older man wiped his chin.
“I need this, and I need to help you-”
Peter was overjoyed. He simply couldn’t believe it, so instead he asked again.
“You’ll really do it?” Peter was practically squealing. “You’ll really make my dreams come true- leave all that you have behind?”
Tony just inhaled, apprehensive.
The air tastes less bitter than before.
“Sure, kid, anything.”
What had been in that tea? Peter could barely believe what Tony was saying. The wealthiest man in town had agreed to leave reputation behind and pursue adventure? The man he so admired was choosing spontaneous, wild travels over a home so safe and comfortable?
Peter could not believe his ears, but he was at no loss for words.
“I would love it, I would love it!” He shouted delightedly, not noticing the other man’s soft smile at his glee. “We can bring your globe along, make bonfires beneath constellations, change ourselves for the better-”
“Just what is going on here, Peter Parker?”
That voice, sharper than a double-edged sword, turned Peter and Tony’s heads forward as if they had been on puppet strings. The door in front of them had been opened and inside stepped a woman and man that only Peter recognized.
“Peter,” the woman repeated, seething with rage. Her gaze was directed at Tony Stark, a protective hand in front of the sweating man behind her. He looked like he would retch at any moment, Tony thought, and the woman glared down at him, with brown irises as menacing as freshly-sharpened daggers.
“Peter. Benjamin. Parker,” the woman’s voice was quiet now, and low. She pointed one slim finger at the older man next to her friend and narrowed her eyes furiously as ice escaped her lips.“ What,” she hissed, "the fuck is he doing here?”