5
5
It was past curfew. His real curfew. Tony’s 2am cutoff for patrolling. Of course Peter wasn’t really patrolling. He hadn’t for four days. Adding on to his already vanquished desire to swing around, even with the fishbowl guy still reeking occasional havoc, Beck had caught Peter sneaking out at 10 ‘o clock Monday. Luckily Peter had dawned sweats over his suit and Beck was blind to the red and blue peeking from the edges of his sleeves. However, the idea of a runaway teen was enough for Caroline to agree with Beck to bar Peter’s windows. He’s been stuck since. Never able to escape his damned “home”, patrolling had slipped away. He managed to sneak out the front door Tuesday and climb back in through the bathroom window, but the motivation to sling webs was taken over by the relief of just being out of the apartment.
Tonight, Peter had managed to get out, now crouched on top of an old-architecture styled baby sky rise on the outskirts of Queens, deeper into the Big City. He ate up the solitude like it was a good meal and listened to the AM traffic down below. The night was overcast, a frigid wind was playing beneath the light-polluted clouds. He hugged his arms close to his body, not bothering to ask Karen to turn on the suit heater. He didn’t want to talk right now. He just needed a moment - a blip in time to be alone and far away from his foster family. He needed to figure out why in particular tonight he was so overwhelmed. He felt trapped – constantly moving with the heavy feeling in his chest that never left after his birthday dinner. He could only place the feeling as despair.
If he really wanted to, he could run away. But what if he left, and somehow some other kid landed in his spot? Plus, he’s never been someone who turns away from danger. But what do you do when the danger is on such a close level? When it’s the person who is supposed to take care of you?
It made Peter so sick and scared. He knew deep down that his logic was skewed. But a genuine worry in his mind was that if he didn’t keep this train-wreck going, it would be a problem for a kid who couldn’t handle it.
“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen said quietly, as if knowing she might startle him.
“Decline,” Peter said flatly, voice nearly non-existent.
He knew that would mean Tony was now on his way. It was 2:10am. Peter should’ve feel bad about keeping Tony awake, but he was actually happy about it. Maybe it was his subconscious’ plan all along to bring Tony to him. He waited, frozen in one position, blending in perfectly with the gargoyles lining the top ledges of the building.
It wasn’t long before the Iron Man suit touched down, nano tech shrinking up the armor, leaving just Tony with a concerned expression on his tired face. “What’s up, kid?” He cut right to the chase. No one liners this time or half-way funny quips. He wasn’t mad Peter was out late or anything like that. It was clear he knew something was wrong. That something’s been wrong.
Peter shrugged, mouth dry without words. He didn’t realize how close to the edge he was until Tony perched next to him. He didn’t like their risky seats and Tony didn’t like them either.
“Let’s sit back a bit, yeah?” Tony said.
Peter could feel Tony’s hand lightly fall onto his back. Peter sunk into his touch and the two of them inched away from the edge until there was a foot of stone in front of them before the ten-story plunge to the sidewalk. Peter’s mask was off. He had wanted to take in fresh air at a higher than usual altitude. But now that Tony was next to him, he wished it was back on. He knew Tony could read his expressions like a picture book.
“What’s going on, Peter?” Tony asked carefully. “What’s wrong?”
Tony didn’t mention the fact he knew Peter hadn’t gone on a real patrol all week. He didn’t mention the fact that he noticed how close Peter had been to the edge, how Peter didn’t even bother turning on the suit heater. Tony didn’t mention all the worry eating up his thoughts. He didn’t say a word about how his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. He didn’t say a word about how much he cared about Peter and how he had never seen the kid like this before.
Peter still didn’t say anything, head still swimming in the misery of the apartment he lives in. He thought about his birthday wish and tried to wish harder to make it come true.
“Tony,” Peter leaned against him and something wrenched at Tony’s heart hearing his name come out of the kid’ s mouth. Peter took a moment to swallow down a knot tightening in his throat. His eyes were getting misty. He suddenly realized how tired he was as he pressed his head against Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s arm pulled him in close and Peter felt like he could fall apart right there. “Can I stay at the Compound tonight?”
He just needed Tony right now. He needed a place he felt truly safe, truly at home. He knew he’d have hell to pay tomorrow, but he’ll fabricate an extravagant lie to cover for Tony, something about leaving in the night to play a new video game with Ned and then falling asleep there.
“Of course, kid,” Tony said, forced to reconcile with the fact tonight was not the time to try and get questions answered.
Tony found a way to get them both back to Compound without flying. They reached their destination around 3am. Tony lead Peter to a vacant room in the Avengers wing (most were empty, but this one had always been set aside for Peter. Technically it was Peter’s room, he’d already stayed there a couple times). Peter sat himself down on the bed while Tony went rooting around for something comfortable for the kid to change into. He managed to find an old crew neck of Steve’s that must’ve gotten lost in the laundry a while ago and paired it with some anonymous sweatpants.
“You gonna go to sleep?” Tony asked from the doorway.
Peter looked down at the clothes in front of him. His fingers traced along the word Brooklyn stitched across the neatly folded crew neck. Peter wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep. Beck was on his mind, the restraints on his life were on his mind, the fact that he’d been letting Mysterio run around was on his mind.
“Dunno,” He said quietly.
“Well come to the kitchen if you’re feeling restless,” Tony said, patting his hand against the door frame before slipping away.
Peter changed into the lent clothes. They were oversized but cozy. He looked around the room, taking in the soft toned walls, the fluffy white comforter, the Spiderman pillow Tony had jokingly got for the bed placed next to a death star pillow. After settling into the familiarity, Peter walked the corridors to the kitchen. Tony was there, tending to a pot on the stove. Two white mugs were conspicuously placed on the island.
Peter took his usual spot on the barstool and eyed down the mugs, absentmindedly starting to speak.
“You know they have these mugs you can draw on with a magic marker,” He said, grabbing the handle of one of the coffee cups and pulling it to him. He examined it even though it was bare and plain. “You can doodle whatever you want on them and then you bake them, and when you’re done you’ve designed your own mug.” He didn’t notice Tony looking over his shoulder at him. “May and Ben made them with me once. We each decorated a mug for each other. It was kind of ridiculous.” He let out quiet laugh, his mind getting tied up in the strings of memory.
Tony didn’t say anything, he knew he just needed to let Peter process. After a minute, Tony came over to the island. He brought two packets of Swiss Miss with him, tossing one to Peter. A smile ghosted Peter’s face. Tony raised his packet in the air and Peter followed suit, sharing a hot chocolate cheers before tearing open the packets and dumping them into their respective mugs. Tony retrieved the pot on the stove and poured hot milk into the cups. He pulled open a drawer and gave Peter a spoon.
“So this is your trick for a restless night?” Peter asked as he stirred the drink.
“Not mine,” Tony said, “My usual ‘trick’ is pulling an all-nighter in the lab. Pepper hates it.”
Peter watched a look of fondness pass over Tony’s face at the thought of Pepper.
“This,” Tony gestured down to the hot chocolate, “was my mother’s trick for a restless night.”
“Your mom was a genius,” Peter said, setting the spoon down on the granite, a warm cup of hot chocolate now ready.
Tony didn’t confirm or deny. Peter was fine with the silence. If quiet ever found Peter and Tony, it was always comfortable. With out any exchange of words, Tony drifted off to the couch in the common room and Peter followed. They sat down. Tony found a blanket and threw it over Peter’s shoulders. Peter set down his mug and tightened the soft blanket around him. He snuck a glance at Tony and could tell he was thinking. Beyond thinking, he was planning. He was structuring the next pieces of conversation to come. Peter waited, sipping hot chocolate to pass the time.
“Are you still curious about that song?” Tony asked.
It took Peter’s sluggish brain a second to connect the dots to the Musical Memory Machine.
“Of course. I was already sleuthing it out,” He said.
“Sure you were,” Tony said in the tone parents use when their toddler claims they’ve found a mystical beast in their sandbox. He continued on as normal, “My mother used to sing it to me on the nights she was around. I don’t know if it’s a real song or something she made up on the spot. No matter what, it never failed to put me to sleep.”
“You’re not going to sing to me, are you?” Peter joked.
“Definitely not,” Tony said with half a smile.
“Did you see her often?” Peter asked, curiosity percolating in his sleepy mind.
Tony looked at Peter while he decided on what to say next. Quite frankly he wasn’t sure what to say. He’s not one to shy away from speaking on the fly but this moment was different. This moment was important. He took in the sight of Peter tired and teary-eyed and it was one of those things that made Tony really look at his position in Peter’s life. He had a lot of responsibility for the kid and no matter how many years pass him by, responsibility is something he felt like he always screwed up.
“She tried,” He finally answered, his mother’s face slipping into the forefront of his mind, “I think she really tried to be around, but most of the time she wasn’t.”
“That’s sad,” Peter said quietly, as if the two words were just for himself.
“I suppose,” Tony replied. “Her parenting skills fluctuated. One moment she’d be all hot chocolate and lullabies, always saying ‘I love you’. In another moment she’d be vacant, forgetting to take me to appointments, busy traveling and all that jazz.”
Peter clutched his mug sensing that Tony was trying to make a point.
“But I always knew she cared about me.” Peter braved to look Tony in the eyes. “That’s the most important part of a parent, you know? They care about you, they love you.” Peter’s throat felt tight again and his eyes fell back onto his hot chocolate.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed, May and Ben on the brain. Tony on the brain. But not Caroline and not Beck and that was Tony’s point.
He could tell Tony was trying to get some truth out of him, confessions about what’s been going on at home. But Peter was truly too tired to unload all that baggage at 3:35am. He knew Tony wasn’t going to push, at least not right now. So he let his mug rest on the table, leaned into Tony’s side again like he did on the roof, and tried not to cry. He was so exhausted. Tony put an arm around him and he closed his eyes.
Sleep finally swept over him.