Trust Issues

When Peter woke up the next morning, the bruising on his face was significantly healed.  Yellows and purples and greens faded at the corners of the remaining part of his black eye, like flower petals curling across the surface of his paper white skin. It was aesthetically beautiful in a sense, but Peter refused to find beauty in and romanticize the pain. The boy only wanted to see the bruises in a negative light. They were marks no one should ever want on their skin, because they were painful and represented violence towards others.

The lesser bruises from the previous day, the ones that had once creeped down his chin and onto the beginning of his slim neck, were now almost completely healed. If one was not looking closely, the little finger shaped bruises would seem almost invisible to them. They would be forgotten in the past, never to be resurrected in other’s memories again yet still burn bright in his own memory.

In a way, it felt like the bruises had never been there in the first place. His super healing often helped the boy forget his own pain even faster than others could forget. But his bruises faded far faster than his memories and the boy couldn’t shake the memories of Flash looming over him in a menacing manner; fists and insults flying and mixing together in an undeniable sense of homophobic fueled violence and hatred and rage.

On that particular day, the boy had caught Peter wearing a small bisexual pride pin on the corner of his jacket pocket. When he caught sight of the bright colors, Flash had snapped. Ranting on and on and on about how bisexuality was a sin and how Peter was going to hell and how Peter shouldn’t be a slut and just choose a side (the right and only side being female, as Flash had so aggressively put it).

The boy ran his fingers over the brightly colored Avengers themed comforter adorning his bed. He traced the outline of his favorite superheroes faces under his fingertips. One day he would be just like them. He would be away from all the senseless pain and victimization of his own being and simply protect others from the same fate. There would come a point where Peter would no longer need to protect himself. He would be in a better place and could focus all his energy on protecting others.

“Hey kiddo,” Tony’s voice filled the room as the door creaked open and bright light streamed into the space from the large windows in the hallway. The glossy cover of textbooks stacked precariously around the room were illuminated under the light. The turquoise walls becoming warmer, the yellow tones of the paint shining through the cool blues and twinkling at him like a smile.

Tony walked over to the boy’s bed, letting his small, yet muscular, body sink into the soft mattress. Peter was currently sprawled out like a cat over most of the spacious bed, so the man softly pushed the boy’s legs over in order to gain a little more room and sit closer to the kid.

On the crumpled surface of the comforter and sheets, right next to the tired boy who was currently rubbing his eyes blearily, Tony set a few objects down. A little orange plastic bowl stuffed to the brim with honey nut Cheerios and banana slices, an apple juice box and the same half used box of Avengers themed band-aids from the night before.

Mr. Stark rummaged through the box of band-aids, the wrappers crinkling as he clearly looked for an Iron Man themed bandage. When he found one, the man peeled the adhesive backing away and leaned forward to stick it under the Captain America band-aid already stuck on top of the bruise on Peter’s face.

“There!” Mr. Stark exclaimed, running the pad of his thumb across the healing bruises, “Now you can have the bestttttt Avenger too, instead of only having that loser on your face.” Mr. Stark winked at Peter and then reached to grab the food. Shoving the bowl of cheerios and banana slices into Peter’s hands, Mr. Stark continued rapidly talking. “Make sure to eat all the fruit kiddo, I want you to get extra strong and healthy and Pepper once told me fruit is good for you. And even though I don’t really eat fruit that often, you should because I want you to be healthy!”

Peter chuckled at Mr. Stark’s protective rambling, but happily popped a sweet banana slice into his half open mouth. “Thanks for the food dad.” He said the word with an apprehension, testing it  out when he was feeling pretty normal rather than crying and feeling like an overly emotional, miserable mess. Not wanting to dwell on the word too long however, the boy quickly added a question. “What are you thinking of doing today?” He then apprehensively added, “I finished all my homework yesterday during lunch.”, knowing Mr. Stark wouldn’t let them do anything fun if the boy still had homework left to do.

The plastic of the straw wrapper crinkled as the boy pulled at it out, struggling to get the straw out. Tony clicked his tongue at the boy, grabbing the wrapper and easily removing the straw. He then stuck it into the juice box, passing to the boy who took a long noisy slurp as he waited for the man to respond.

Tony tilted his head to the side, a mischievous smirk flashing across his features. “Well I was thinking we could go to a certain little boy’s favorite science museum and then maybe some milkshakes and veggie burgers for dinner?”

Tony rolled his eyes when he reminded himself of Peter’s new ‘life goal’ of being a vegetarian. A few weeks ago Peter had proudly told Tony that ‘all queer people were vegetarians’. Tony had hotly replied by reminding Peter that he was pansexual as all heck and loved meat. He had followed that sentence with a wink and telling Peter that ‘hamburgers weren’t the only type of meat he liked.’ Peter had been mortified at the comment and consequently had wanted to bleach his eyes out. He was a child of the lord, thank you very much and didn’t want to think about his dad having sex.

Peter however ignored the teasing vegetarian remark, too excited to get hung up on his dad’s teasing. “OMG, are you talking about the New York Science Hall. I love that place Mr. Stark. Can we please, please, please go Dad? Pleaseeeeeeeeeee???”

Peter bounced up and down, cheerios and banana slices spilling all over the Avengers  comforter and little drops of apple juice squirting out as he squeezed the juice box a little too hard in excitement. “I love that place dad, they have like 400 hands on activities and cool exhibits and I haven’t been there in so long and I love black bean burgers and milkshakes and today is gonna be really really really awesome!!!” Peter continued to gush about the museum and Tony grinned, he knew the NY Science hall would be a good idea for today.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking kiddo!” Tony was still grinning, “I know it’s your favorite, and we’re gonna have such a fun time playing with all those awesome activities. We can launch the balls and go on the wave simulator or go in that amazing new virtual reality thingy and play with legos and just have a really fun day. It’ll be so much fun sweetheart!”

Peter was still bouncing up and down in a hyperactive manner, thinking about all the cool things they would get to do at the museum. “Can we go right now?” He questioned the man, “I wanna go soon, Dad.” The boy tried to make his best puppy dog eyes while he was begging, still bouncing up and down like a kid on a sugar high.

Tony stood up from the bed, smoothing his hands over his black jeans and then anxiously tugging at the hair sitting at the nape of his neck. He then started walking, letting his bare feet drag against the bright teal carpet of the room. He was careful not to stub his toes on the stacks of science textbooks or step on the half made lego sets as he made his way over to the boy’s wardrobe.

When he reached the dark wooden dresser, the man opened the top drawer and ran his calloused hands over the fabric of the stacks of nerdy t-shirts. After several minutes of closely examining each shirt, the man pulled a neatly folded bright red shirt with an Iron Man mask proudly displayed on the front from inside the drawer. The man then moved onto a lower drawer, choosing a pair of light tan cargo shorts far sooner than he had chosen the shirt. Finally, the man grabbed a pair of bright green hulk boxer briefs, baby blue socks from the top drawer and a worn pair of white converse sneakers (with hand drawn doodles on the side from both Tony and Peter) from their spot propped against the dresser.

Peter wrinkled his nose when Tony set the clothing down on the bed among the pile of spilled Cheerios and fruit. The waistband of the cargo shorts were all bunched up and elastic, somewhat looking like pants meant for toddlers and it was embarrassing to wear an Iron Man shirt when he was around Tony.

“Don’t wrinkle your nose at me, young man.” Mr. Stark sarcastically chided, “I could always help you get dressed into some even younger clothing if you aren’t happy with what I choose for you. I could have you lift your arms up and get you nice and cosy and everything. I’m pretty good at tying shoelaces if I do say so myself and I’m the boss at helping little brats put their socks on.”

Peter rolled his eyes at the mans gentle teasing. He liked to think he hated when Mr. Stark babied him so much, picking out his outfits or planning his meals or simply making sure everything was perfect for his ‘perfect boy’. But the boy knew that deep down in his subconscious, he secretly liked it. He didn’t mind the babying because he just wanted to feel loved.

Tony groaned, sensing the boy’s slight displeasure at being babied. “I just want to help my kid Pete, is that too much to ask for?” Mr. Stark asked him indignantly. “What if you got stuck or accidentally strangled yourself on your shirt or fell over or needed help or something and I wasn’t there for you?” His voice then got even deeper and more serious, “I need to be there for you, Pete.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but quickly stopped and stood up, understanding that Mr. Stark truly did care and wasn’t trying to antagonize him. He grabbed the stack of clothing from the bed and went to push Tony out of his room. It didn’t work practically well, seeing as Peter was far smaller than Tony in both height and weight, as well as sheer muscle mass. The man wasn’t particularly large, but Peter was absolutely tiny.

However, Tony knew Peter needed space and he let the boy push him out of the room while saying, “Let me get dressed by myself, I promise I won’t get stuck or strangle myself or anything Mr. Stark. I’m a big boy.”

Tony looked as if he was going to complain at first, but eventually he quickly gave in and let the boy push him out of the room and into the hallway. “Get dressed quick like a bunny Peter, I want to make it to Queens before rush hour and it’s Saturday morning so traffic is definitely going to be bad.”

“I know Dad!!” Peter called through the door, already pulling the hulk underwear and  offending elastic shorts up his legs, thrusting his middle finger at the door in the direction of Mr Stark when the elastic snapped around his waist in a snug manner, and shrugging the red Iron Man shirt onto his skinny torso.

The New York Science Hall was his favorite childhood museum in the entire world. When he was younger, his Aunt and Uncle took him there whenever they had money for the somewhat high admission fee. They would let him run around to his heart's content and play with  the hundreds of hands on activities for hours, making a muck and being his nerdiest self without fear of judgement from his peers.

Even when he was a child, his peers teased him for being a nerd. May and Ben had countered the negative attention for his intelligence by always letting the boy flaunt it while around them. Peter felt lucky to have had an Aunt and Uncle who valued his curiosity and love for science so much, nurturing it from the time he was a small child. He was always allowed to ask and explore and discover, as long as he was polite and respectful.

When Tony had discovered the museum was Peter’s childhood favorite, the man had started taking him whenever the boy felt down or upset. It was yet another way the man babied Peter, but this time Peter didn’t really mind it. When super duper fun science activities were involved, Peter never minded being treated like he was smaller than he truly was. In fact, Peter liked it in some strange way. He loved feeling small and loved, and Tony did an exceptional job at making him feel that way.    

When Peter finished lacing up his converse, after smoothing over his bright blue socks, he glanced in the mirror briefly. The way the shorts hugged his hips, the shirt flipping up at the end to show off the waistband, and the primary blue socks almost reaching just below his knees made him look like he was six years old. It didn’t help that the boy was exceptionally short, his hair fluffy and messy like a child, his smile lopsided and his heart bigger than his chest.

Finished looking in the mirror, the boy headed out to the living area of Mr. Stark’s personal floor of the tower. Sun streamed into the room from the large, head to ceiling windows.  Tony was currently sitting on the leather couch, his legs crossed and he was frantically typing away at his computer in order to finish up some last minute work before their excursion began.

Not wanting to interrupt the man, Peter awkwardly stood several feet behind the couch. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet like an impatient toddler. He pulled at the hem of his bright red shirt every few seconds, exposing the stupid waistband of his tan cargo shorts. He used his other hand to pull at his curls, flipping them every which way and pulling them til they fell just a little bit straighter.

He didn’t want to interrupt his Dad while he was working. He knew what Mr. Stark did was important, probably more important than spending time a stupid little kid like him. But he was still impatient to get started on their drive to the museum and maybe, just maybe Mr. Stark wouldn’t mind if they spent time together.  

Several minutes later, after wearing a hole into the carpet by bouncing up and down and when the boy could no longer keep his excitement contained, Peter let out a low, disgruntled whine. Tony’s head snapped up when he heard the sound. When he saw the boy Tony scrambled up from the couch, gently placing the laptop to the side and rushing over to stand next to the small boy.

“How long have you been standing there?” The man questioned, catching Peter’s hand in his own and stopping the fingers from impatiently pulling at the hem of his shirt. “You should’ve told me you were there kiddo, I was just killing time and we could have started heading out earlier.”

Peter peered down at the ground in an embarrassed manner, he hadn’t meant to make them late. The boy was simply anxious about interrupting the man who had clearly been working. He hated wanted to be a nuisance or annoying.

Peter toed the corner of his white shoe on the sleek hardwood floor, fidgeting in a way his body was hardwired to move. Peter often joked that he was an ‘ADHD Poster Child’. He was the definition of hyperactivity, only adding to the overgrown toddler look he was currently sporting. He could never stand still, spending large amounts of time running down city blocks, or paying attention to just about anything other than what he needed to.

Mr. Stark seemed to sense the boy’s apprehension and in an attempt to quell the nervous fear, he reached out to ruffle his fluffy hair. “Anyways kiddo, before we head out I have to grab some things from the kitchen.”

Before he had finished talking, the man was already heading to the next room over. Peter tilted his head in confusion, wondering what the man needed, but quickly followed behind not wanting to be left behind in the living room. Tony moved quickly, his gate sophisticated and mature, as the boy clumsily trailed after him like a loyal puppy dog trailing after their owner.  

When they reached the kitchen, Mr. Stark hastily shoved little plastic baggies of blueberries, chunks of cheddar cheese, granola bars and juice boxes into his backpack. When Peter asked what he was doing, Tony chuckled softly and responded “I’m packing snacks for when you get all cranky and hungry before we get to eat lunch”, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Nobody likes a cranky little kiddo, now do they?” He continued, reaching out to boop the boy’s nose in a condescending, yet affectionate way.

When Tony was done packing the snacks, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and then herded the boy into the awaiting elevator car. They made it to the parking garage within seconds, the musty smell hitting him as soon as the doors slid open.

There were rows and rows of many brightly colored and flashy sports cars glinting under the fluorescent lights, but Tony overlooked most of them in favor of choosing a more conservative (yet still clearly extremely expensive) dark blue car at the end of the row.

Tony opened the passenger side door, gently pushing Peter in. He then sat went to sit on his side of the car and leaned over to click the boy’s seatbelt into place before Peter could even attempt to do it himself. “Alright kiddo, you ready to go?”

Peter cheered loudly at the question, giggling and clapping his hands together in joy. “I’m super duper excited, dad!!”

Mr. Stark laughed softly in response. He then lit the ignition of the car, tearing out of the parking garage and onto the busy city  street.

Peter couldn’t help but catch his reflection in the rear-view mirror. The boy grimaced when he first saw it. The mostly faded bruises dusted across his lower eye socket and upper cheek, still looked quite garish and out of place on his white skin. It made him feel like a victim, like a loser and helpless. But the superhero band-aids on his checks made the boy feel powerful and strong. The band-aids made him feel like he truly belonged as a superhero, as Spider-Man. They made him feel like he truly could amount to something great in this world.

Peter’s eyes dropped from his reflection in the mirror and down to his outfit. He worked the pads of his fingers over the soft fabric of his shirt and over the tougher fabric of his cargo shorts. He had complained about the man choosing such a juvenile outfit for him earlier in the day, but right now it only made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. It meant the world to the boy that Mr. Stark had carefully chosen an outfit just for the boy to wear. He was 15, so he didn’t necessarily need the man to do it, but it still made him feel loved. It was all the little things in life that made him feel like Mr. Stark truly did care about him.

“Hey kid,” Mr. Stark started before reaching his hand out to grab his backpack and shove it into Peter’s lap. “I left a surprise for you in there! I wasn’t sure if you would want it, but I popped it in there before we went just in case.” Tony’s voice was sweet and calm like honey dripping into hot tea.  

Peter tentatively tugged on the zipper of Tony’s grey backpack, curious about the surprise the man had left for him. When he finished unzipping the backpack, the boy gasped when he saw the contents inside. There, sitting in the front pouch of the backpack, nestled between snacks, comic books and a package of wet wipes sat a fuzzy stuffed animal.

Bucky Bear stared up to him, his button eyes glinting and his smile seeming to grin up to him like he was alive. His fuzzy fabric, looked so inviting and the boy couldn’t help but snatching him from the backpack like a prized treasure. He ran the fabric over his face over and over again, letting the soft fur pass over the faded bruising on his chin and over his chapped lips and the warm blush on his cheeks .

“Thank you so much Mr. Stark.” The boy whispered, the words being even more muffled by the left arm of the teddy bear being pushed snug against his lips. “It means the absolute world to me, Dad.” He continued, plopping the stuffed bear into his lap (making sure Bucky Bear was upright and flush against his chest.)

It truly did mean the world to the boy that Tony cared so much that he would bring Bucky Bear on their trip. Mr. Stark knew Peter had been having a more few anxiety attacks than normal as of recently. He also knew that the only thing that helped the boy calm down was his stuffed bear. Peter knew it was probably stupid, but holding a stuffed animal close to his chest made him calm down in a way nothing else did. That, and getting a hug from Mr. Stark and smelling the familiar scents of motor oil and cologne.

“No problem kiddo!!” Mr. Stark exclaimed, taking one hand off the wheel in order to run it through Peter’s floppy hair. “Now let’s get going Pete, New York Science Hall here we come!!”

With that the man stepped on the gas, tearing down the manhattan street towards the Queensboro Bridge. Sunshine streamed into the large glass windows of the dark blue car, making Bucky Bear’s fur appear lighter and Peter’s hair glow in the light.

It was a glorious spring day, all sunshine and leaves springing forth on the few trees that lined the sidewalks of the city blocks. Outside the car, the streets were bustling with people. Dogs trotted down the sidewalk and barked happily, a little girl skipped down the sidewalk while holding her father’s hand and a couple shared a sweet kiss on the corner of a block right when the light changed to walk and a crowd rushed past them.

It was quite an easy trip. They listened to Disney tunes the entire way, as the boy ran his fingers over Bucky Bear’s soft fur, bopping his head up and down to the beat and staring out the window at the swarms of passing people.

The two didn’t talk much while they drove, Tony was focused on the road and Peter was too busy people watching and running his fingers over the stuffed animal’s fur. But in a strange sense, the lack of talking didn’t even matter to Peter. It was a comfortable silence between them, the cheery Disney music made the car radiate with happiness and it felt like a timeless moment.

However time quickly seemed to catch up on them and as it passed fast, Peter became more and more excited to head to the museum. The past few days had been hellish for the boy. The bruising on his face and twitchy attitude certainly attested to that fact.

Like many LGBT teenagers, school was quite difficult for the boy. He had experienced intense bullying for years and even when he wasn’t, bigoted teachers and exclusive curriculum often left the boy feeling isolated in school. Adding in Peter’s struggles with anxiety and ADHD, school was a recipe for disaster. Sometimes he could barely step into the building without wanting to cry, other times he couldn’t sit still or pay attention and other times he felt like sleeping the entire day away, keeping his head down. Often he was a target at school and keeping his head down sometimes kept the boy safe from the bullying he relentlessly endured.

After nearly an hour later, when the flashy car pulled into the parking lot of the New York Science Hall, the boy was once again bouncing up and down. The leather of the car seat creaked as he gushed on and on about all the fun things he was going to do. He hugged Bucky Bear close, sipping at a fruit punch juice box and staring up so his curls would flop backwards.

When they had finished scouring the parking lot for a spot, Tony pulled into a parking spot near the end of the furthermost row. Tony tucked a baseball cap over his dark hair, pushing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He was clearly trying to hide his true identity, and Peter giggled at the man because he thought he looked quite silly.

“Oh shut up you!” Tony playfully teased, “I’m trying my best here, Pete.”

The man ran his hand over the brim of the baseball cap and then reached over to unbuckle Peter from the confines of his seatbelt. The boy stuck his tongue out, knowing he could do it himself, but Mr. Stark sushed him. He instead moved to gently guide the boy in returning the teddy bear to the backpack. He softly remind Peter that people might stare at him for holding the bear and even though Tony loved him either way, it might make the boy anxious.

The two made their way across the asphalt of the parking lot and towards the building. Their hands were linked together and Peter swung them back and forth excitedly, humming a little song about how cool the museum was.

When they reached the massive glass building, Tony patiently waited on line to pay for their tickets. However, the man quickly relinquished Peter’s hand and let the boy run around the entrance hall like a kid in a candy shop. He ran his small hands over every single surface of every single sign and small opening activity he could find in the entrance hall. He loved being able to touch things, feel all the different textures under his skin and psych himself up for what was to come.

When Tony had officially paid for their tickets and Peter had a bright purple wristband secretly taped around his wrist, the boy ran off towards the elevator (already knowing exactly where he wanted to go first). He anxiously slammed the button for the fourth floor over and over again until the elevator started to creep it’s way up.  

When the elevator doors slid open, sunshine streamed in from the glass ceilings. The brightly colored exhibits gleamed under the natural light and they called out to the boy to go and play with all of them. But Peter had his sights set on a certain exhibit and he grabbed Tony’s hand, pulling the man towards the giant life sized legos.

Luckily, there was no one else in the already there and the boy plopped his butt onto the ground. He threw his legs out in front of him, the fabric of his cargo pants crinkling and the elastic waistband snuggly hugging the skin of his waist. His small hands reached out to grab the large plastic, brightly colored blocks. He pulled nearly a dozen of them to his body, before turning and yanking the man down to the ground to sit next to him. “Play with me please?” His voice was soft and his head was tilted. He looked like a small child, sitting there amongst the giant legos, with his floppy hair and childish outfit.

Tony landed with a plop next to the boy, laughing as his butt hit the linoleum floor. “Alright kiddo! What are we building?”

“A tower!” Peter responded, sticking out his tongue and starting to busily stack the large blocks on top of each other. The sunlight hit made the plastic sparkle, as the blocks clicked into place and within minutes, the short boy had to stand on his tiptoes in order to reach the very top of the tower.

The two males had added flourishes of finishes to their plastic tower by affixing brightly colored trim, chimneys and a moat around the edge of their plastic creation. They were so carried away that within a little more than an hour, the tower spanned the entire distance of the exhibit floor. The plastic blocks had created a fortress fit for a prince and a dragon and a million adventures for them to go on.

Peter sat cross legged on the floor, his head was leaning on the flat palm of his propped up hand. Their tower was perfect, but the boy was quickly running out of steam. Peter’s stomach rumbled loudly, the cheerios and banana slices not having kept the boy sufficiently fed, and Tony quickly picked up on it.

Mr. Stark bent down, crouching next to the boy and pulled the backpack close to him. “How you feeling Pete?”, the man questioned. His tone was calm and understanding, slow like he was talking to a child who needed a nap or was on the verge of a public meltdown.

In all fairness, the boy was quite tired. His eyelids were drooping and his stomach rumbled. He was hungry and tired and had spent all his energy building his massive, lego fortress.

As if Tony could read his mind, the man unzipped the backpack and pulled the bag of blueberries and the bag of cheddar cheese out of his bag. “Somebody is looking a little tired. How about we do a quick snack break and then head out kiddo. Does that sound alright, sweetheart?”

Peter was feeling a bit too bleary to respond, his head was fuzzy and his words weren’t quite working. So instead, the boy made grabby hands at the plastic bags of food, opening and closing his fingers rapidly and nodding his head. He was desperately trying to nonverbally get his point across as quickly as possible. Peter was starving and he wanted food immediately.

Tony shook his head fondly at the boy, ruffling his hair and than helping him stand. When the boy was upright, the man shoved the baggies into the tired boy’s hands. “You can munch on that while we walk downstairs, kiddo.” He softly told the boy as he placed a hand on Peter’s back and helped guide him towards the elevator.

The boy felt dead tired as they made their way back down the elevator and towards the parking lot. Peter knew time must be passing, but his eyelids kept falling shut and the boy barely felt the seconds pass by as they made their way back to the blue car.

The boy somewhat remembered being helped into the car, his seatbelt being clicked into place by the man and Bucky Bear being tucked into the crook of his arm. He nestled into the soft fabric, pulling the stuffed animal close and snuggling into the soft fur.

The boy’s head lolled to the side, Peter being almost asleep, and a sentence slipped from Peter’s mouth without even meaning it. “Thanks dad… love you”

Tony grinned at the half asleep boy’s words, letting the warmth of the sentence fill him up to the brim with love. He had truly loved this boy like a son for a long time, but it all seemed to be coming together in the past few days and it couldn’t have felt better.

It was hard to think that they would never be pushed to the next level if an asshole at Peter’s school didn't hurt him. But Tony knew that the universe worked in strange ways and this was one of those moments most definitely. The world was rewarding them for going through so much in life and he just knew that this was all going to workout for them. They were going to be ok if it was the last thing they did.

Tony turned to look at the boy. He watched the rise and fall of his chest against the boy’s teddy bear and the curls flopping into his hair and the stretch of the red Iron Man shirt across his chest. Shaking his head fondly at the boy he loved like a son, he turned to and spoke softly in order to not wake up his kid.

“I love you too Peter. I really do love you like you were my own kid, sweetheart.”