Trust Issues

“Can we talk about it now?” Tony took a huge bite of his double bacon cheeseburger, ketchup squirting from the side and dripping down the large bun. It had been phrased as a question, but it was clear the man was pleading with Peter. He wanted the boy to talk about his emotions and what had really happened at school yesterday.

Peter used the end his bright pink straw to stir the surface of his chocolate milkshake. He sucked up some of the liquid, letting it catch in the end of the straw, and then watched the ice cream splatter across the top of the cup as he blew through the straw. Using his other hand, the boy rolled the paper of the straw wrapper on the surface of their table and tapped his fingers anxiously against the wood every few seconds.

Peter had known this was coming from the second the two entered his favorite burger joint in all of Queens. He knew Mr. Stark was going to ask what had happened, and push the boy to open up.  

He wanted to pretend to not know what Mr. Stark was talking about. Keep his head down and play dumb with the man. But Peter knew exactly what he was asking and maybe talking about it with the man would be a good thing. Maybe Tony could actually help with the situation or simply provide love and support to the boy.

Peter reached his hand, the one that had previously been playing with the straw wrapper,  down to grab the backpack that leaned against the side of their red, vinyl booth. Quickly unzipping the bag, he reached inside for the stuffed Bear he knew was hidden in its depths.

Plonking the bear into his lap, the teenager ran his fingers over the soft fur in a calming manner. Taking a final bite of his veggie burger, Peter cleared his throat. One hand still nervously played with the straw, stirring his milkshake until it sloshed over the edges, as the boy started talking.

“I guess we can talk about it now, Mr. Stark. But to be honest, I am scared that you’re gonna react badly when you hear what actually happened.” Peter could see Tony’s entire body tense in apprehension at those words, but he tried to ignore it. Watching a long trail of chocolate milkshake drip onto the table, Peter continued talking anyways.

“If it’s ok, I want to be a hundred and ten percent honest with you about what’s going on” Tony shook his head immediately, clearly urging the boy to continue talking. “You obviously know that I’m queer and a science nerd and all that stuff. You know that I sometimes get anxiety attacks or feel overwhelmed and just need a break from things or I need to hug Bucky Bear like a dumb little kid or something  like that.” Tony nodded his head once again, “Well other people, like school people, also know about this stuff. And I’m proud about all of these things and love myself… I guess and I mostly believe all that stuff you’re always lecturing me about, but people at school make it really hard to love myself sometimes.”

Tony’s eyes looked like storm clouds as the teenager shared. He looked apprehensive for the boy to continue, yet it was clear the man knew what was coming and it was also clear that he was not happy about it.

“It’s really hard to love yourself when people make fun of you and well there's this kid named Flash,” Peter took a deep breath in, “and he’s been bullying me really really badly… for well years. And um… lately it’s been getting worse and worse and yesterday, well yesterday was probably the worst it has literally ever been. Yesterday he cornered me in the hallway and he called me all these really horrible homophobic names and slurs and well,” Peter gestured to his face vaguely, “he um… well he did this too.”

Peter said the words like he was ripping off a band-aid, quickly and with no regard for the consequences the words could garner. He needed to be honest with Mr. Stark no matter what. He needed the man’s help and he also needed his love and for him to listen to him and take his story seriously.  So many adults had accused him of lying when it came to the bullying and his entire spirit would break if his dad thought he was lying as well.

Peter however immediately regretted telling the man when he saw Tony’s reaction. The man had squished his bacon cheeseburger in his bare hands, ketchup and pickles and cheese and ground beef all running down his tan skin and clumping at the hem of his dark grey blazer. His mouth hung open in a shocked position, pearly white teeth glistening with moisture, and his skin was tinted bright red with anger.  

Peter let his hand drop from the straw and pulled Bucky Bear close to his chest, burying his face in the soft fabric and trying to hold back the tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Perhaps honesty was not the best policy in some cases. Maybe he should have lied in order to protect himself from being judged from this man he loved so dearly or bent the truth to make the situation sound even a little bit better than it truly was.

He had never told anyone, bar Ned and that was only because his best friend was more often than not there, about the full extent of Flash’s bullying. No one knew about the physical abuse he had suffered for years, or the homophobic slurs that felt ingrained in his mind or the taunts thrown at him every single day. No one knew about any of it, because Peter had worked hard to keep it that way.

It was the combination of Flash’s threats to turn on Ned and his pride that had kept the boy silent for years. And perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut and himself silent for years more. No one needed to know about what Flash did to him. He could handle it himself and he didn't need to go telling someone else like he was some big tattle tale cry baby. It was his own dirty little secret and for the longest time he felt like he would do anything to keep it that way.

At least he used to be willing to do anything. But now that he was sitting in his favorite restaurant, Bucky Bear pulled close to his face, drinking a really yummy chocolate milkshake, eating his favorite black bean burger and spending time with his dad; well now, Peter felt like he might want to tell someone. Because maybe if he told his dad about the bullying, Tony would help him and he wouldn’t have to be so afraid of Flash anymore. He could be free from the taunting and the bullying and the bruises and the slurs. And if he was free, maybe he could finally be happy.

At that exact moment, as if snapping back to attention like a rubber band released after being pulled tight, Tony grabbed a napkin and started wiping his hands and wrists clean of the remnants of his squashed burger. The man’s face was still an angry red color, but it was clear he was trying to calm down for Peter’s sake. He was taking slow, deep breaths at even intervals. Clenching and unclenching his fist methodically, as if wanting to punch someone who was not currently present.

The thought of Tony hurting Flash made Peter even more upset. The boy hated violence and he never wanted anyone to get hurt (even when they totally deserved it). All he wanted was warm hugs from his dad and fuzzy pajamas and hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and the ability to heal with the ones he loved in a place where he felt truly and undeniably safe. He couldn’t heal when he was terrified and his body was screaming at him that he was in danger.  

A wet tear dripped down the arch of his face and onto Bucky Bear’s dark brown fur. Peter hadn’t realized he had been crying, until sobs wracked his body like claps of thunder and his bear was sodden with tears and snot disgustingly dripping down his face and landing on the fur of his treasured stuffed animal. The boy used the arm of the bear to dry the tears falling down his face and tried to choke his words out from between his sobs. “I just don’t want to be hurt anymore dad. I’ve tried so hard to be a good boy and keep quiet and not make a big fuss, but I hate when he hurts me and I can’t do it anymore. I can’t do it, please don’t make me do it.” The boy begged between his sobs, holding onto his bear like the stuffed animal was a life line. “I just want to be happy and not scared at school for once in my entire life.”

Tony reached out his arm, the warmth of his hand encircling Peter’s wrist and pulling the boy’s hand to tightly grasp his own. The warmth of Tony’s palm connected with Peter’s own cold hand and helped him feel grounded, It helped connect him to this moment in time and the safety Mr. Stark’s presence provided.

When the man spoke, it was like a tidal wave of emotions went crashing into the boy’s body.  “No one is ever going to hurt you again Peter, I promise.”

The man’s voice cracked with raw emotion as his fingers ran soothing circles into the cool skin on the back of Peter’s hand. “I hate seeing you like this, Pete. I want to help you and with your permission, I really want to talk to the principal about Flash. What he’s doing to you is seriously not ok Peter and not only do I want to help you feel safe and happy, I also need you to understand why it’s not ok.”

Peter tried to bury his face into Bucky Bear’s fur once again, but Tony used his other hand to catch Peter’s jaw. He forced the teen to look into his dark eyes, trying to convey as much emotion as possible.

Peter squirmed under the man’s intense gaze. He desperately wanted to look away, but he was unable to and was stuck staring at the man’s dark, stormy eyes.

“I need you to listen to me when I say this Peter,” Tony’s voice was deep and rumbling, commanding the attention of the small boy with ease. “I know how you think Peter, heck if you were my biological son I would think it was genetic because we think in the exact same way, me and you. I know you think this is your fault, or that you deserve this or some shit as equally dumb as that. But you and I both know this is not on you and I refuse to let you self destruct to the point where you blame yourself for other people hurting you. You are so much stronger than anyone in this entire world and you are going to be ok Peter. I promise that one day you are going to feel so much better than to you do tonight, but it’s not going to magically happen overnight. Healing takes time and you have to let yourself take that time to heal kid. You need to stop pushing yourself past your breaking point and just take a second to breath. It’s ok to let go and let someone else take charge. It’s ok to just focus on getting better and leave everything else to me or the other adults in your life who care about and love you.”

At this point, Peter had long since stopped moving around in his seat and he was staring contently and with deep focus straight into the man’s dark brown eyes. The overwhelming need to look away had faded and he was focusing on the weight of the man’s words and the tone of his voice. He knew Tony was right, but he hated admitting it. Peter hated feeling weak and dumb or like he was unable to control his life. He hated needing help from someone, especially not someone he looked up to so much; he just wanted everything to stop for a single second and to be able to breathe deeply once again and focus on his happiness rather than worrying about how to make his pain feel better.

As if sensing the boy’s discomfort Tony let go of the boy’s joy, reaching up to swipe a finger across his brightly colored band-aids and then dropping his hand all together.  “Now finish your milkshake kiddo, I don’t want it to melt on you and I paid good money for your sugar high.”

And with that, like a light switch had flicked on, the old Tony was back. He dipped half a dozen fries at once into barbecue sauce, only glancing once at the remnants of his smashed burger. The man went as far as taking a clean napkin and draping it over the smushed up food. He didn’t want any reminder of the conversation they had just had, a reminder of how out of control he had truly felt in that moment. He didn’t want to remember his bright red face or the mourning of his child’s innocence, stolen by a coward who liked to hurt people for fun, or the way the kid looked so dejected and hurt.

Peter tentatively sat the stuffed bear on the surface of the table, careful to avoid the remains of the bacon cheeseburger or little drops of milkshake staining the table. He knew it was childish to keep the bear next to him when his anxiety level had since decreased (if only minimally); but the bear made him feel safe and if he was going to finish this uncomfortable situation, he wanted Bucky Bear’s support.

Dried tears stuck to Peter’s eyelashes, making them clump and stick together. The bruises on his face had faded more with the passing of time during the day and they now were almost completely healed. Right under his eye, slightly above the band-aids, sat the last remains of the bruises. The yellows hues nearly faded into his paper white skin, sitting there like little buttercups or dandelions or daisies.  

By tomorrow, the bruises will have completely faded and the band-aids will have peeled off. On Sunday morning, the boy will wake up looking completely normal, yet still holding internal wounds that refused to heal, regardless of the physical remnants having gone.

“I really want to heal, dad.” Peter said, before taking a long sip of his melting chocolate milkshake. “Today was really nice, and I had so much fun at the science museum, but it was also really emotionally intense. Maybe tomorrow we can just have a chill day, watch some movies or something. It’s Sunday and like I already did my homework and stuff, so we could just take it slow…” Peter was rambling slightly, unsure of what Tony would say to him in response.

But Mr. Stark’s face lit up in the usual lopsided grin he reserved for only his kid to see. “I think that sounds like a great idea.” He then leaned forward on his elbows, avoiding the smushed up food, looking at the boy straight in the eyes.

“Do you trust me, Pete?” His voice was as intense as a blazing fire, “Because if you trust me I have an idea that I think you would like, but I’m not going to push you to do anything if you don’t trust me or don’t want to try. If you do however, we can start my little experiment right now and see how it goes tomorrow. It might help you feel better kiddo, but again I’m not going to push you if you don’t want it.”

Peter was confused by the question, wondering what the man was propositioning. The man made it sound mysterious, yet appealing all at the same time. The boy wasn’t usually one to take risks, but maybe today would be the day he started. Peter explicitly trusted Tony Stark with his life. He was in fact the person Peter trusted more than anyone else in the entire universe and he knew the man always had his best interest and well being in mind. Tony would never do anything to hurt him, he cared too much.

With that in mind, Peter quickly shook his head yes. He definitely wanted to try and of course he trusted his dad, why wouldn’t he?

“Alrighty then, we’re going to have so much fun sweetheart!” Tony exclaimed, leaning back from where he had propped his elbows up on the table. He looked as if he was deep in thought, his mind going a mile a minute and it made Peter wonder if he had made the correct decision. But within a single second, he jumped into action as if he had been shocked by an invisible electric current or been doused in freezing cold water.

The man hastily opened his wallet, rifling through it to find a stack of folded money. He threw a few hundred dollar bills, far more than the price of their cheap diner meal, down on the table within a second of opening the worn leather wallet. They landed in a little puddle of chocolate milkshake and Tony threw down another 50, as if apologizing for getting the bills dirty and wet. Money was easy for Tony and it was clear the man had no problem flaunting that fact  and helping as many people he came in contact with by tipping exuberantly.

He also made sure to scoop up the napkin covering the squashed burger with one hand and dump in on top of his empty plate, so it was easier for the waitress to dispose off. If there was one thing Tony was not, it was inconsiderate. The media was obsessed with saying he was inconsiderate, self centered, snobby and unkind, but that was the most preposterous thing Peter had ever heard.

Mr. Stark tipped generously, thanked waitstaff profusely and never left a mess when he could help it. Waitstaff obviously always deserved respect in his mind, no matter their age, but he always thought even more of the young ones and was even more generous with them. They were more likely than not students trying to pay for their education and a million other expenses and they deserved respect from others for being so strong and resilient in the face of adversity.

When the man was done tidying his spot and paying for their meal, he hastily went to stand over the seated boy on the opposite side of the booth. Peter attempted to stand up to leave when he saw the man. He was tried and ready to head to the car and start their journey back home, Peter smiled slightly when he realized he had thought of the tower as his home. But Tony pushed him back into the red vinyl seat before he could fully stand up.

Picking up a clean napkin, the man went to wet the corner in a half empty glass of water, the paper dragging against mostly melted ice cubes and a half squeezed wedge of lemon floating in the liquid. When it was sufficiently wet he pulled it across Peter’s chin, collecting the drips of milkshake that had spilled past the corner of his lips when he had been slurping it down using  the mangled straw and made the skin on the bottom of his face sticky. Using the opposite end of the damp napkin, the man dried off the pale skin. He then gave Peter’s soft hair a gentle pat, ruffling his curls affectionately.

Tony then reached over Peter’s small body to collect the stuffed bear that had been propped up next to the boy; shoving the stuffed animal into Peter’s unexpected hands and helping the boy stand all in one fluid motion.

Mr. Stark then took off his own blazer, shaking it off in case any burger had stuck to the inside of the sleeve, and gently draped it over the boy’s shoulders. “Just in case you get cold outside.” He muttered as an explanation, while steering the boy to the door at the front of the restaurant and onto the mostly dark city street.

It was late evening, stars and street lamps and windows in skyscrapers that looked like pinpricks in the universe all blended together to form the appearance of a city that never sleeps. Tony reached out to grab Peter’s arm as soon as they entered the parking lot, holding it like a lifeline or like Peter’s life depended on it.

“I don’t want you to get lost” Tony whispered the words into the air and Peter wrinkled his nose. He was confused because why the heck would he get lost in a two minute walk to the car, but went along with it when he realized how comforting his dad's hand felt to hold. The skin was large and warm and it made him feel protected and well loved.   

When they got to the car, Tony once again buckled the boy into his seat. But as opposed to early, this time it felt like he was doing it in a more caring and nurturing way then before. His fingers lingered longer on the strap, adjusting it to sit just right, tugging it several times to make sure it was tight and making sure that the boy was undeniably safe in the car. At the end, the man ruffled Peter’s hair playfully and whispered that he should try to get some sleep because it was late and way past his bedtime.

Peter wrinkled his nose once again because it was barely 10:30, he normally went to bed far later than 10:30 and he was always fine. He was 15 and he didn’t even have a bedtime anyways. He was a teenager, not a little kid and he could stay up however long he wanted thank you very much.

The boy opened his mouth to complain, but before he could say a single word a large yawn ripped through his entire body. Maybe he was tired, he thought to himself as he snuggled into Tony’s blazer, smelling the familiar scents and feeling warm all over. The boy let his eyes drift shut lazily, it wouldn’t hurt to take a break for a moment and it wasn’t like he was giving into his dad’s bedtime if he was actually tired.

In the end, the boy’s logic seemed to fail him, his exhaustion clearly winning out. Peter had told himself that he was only resting his eye’s for a single second. He wasn’t a baby and he was going to stay awake as long as he wanted to.

But the next memory he had was bleary. His eyelids kept dropping shut, every few seconds and the world around him was spinning. He could tell that they clearly weren’t in the same location as they were before from the little parts of the environment he could make out. Smooth concrete, fluorescent lights and the ding of the elevator doors being the most prominent of his surroundings.   

He knew that they were walking, as he felt every step the man took jostling his entire body. The boy was cradled into Tony’s chest. He could feel his head tucked into the space where Tony’s shoulder and neck meet, heavy against the man’s body. One of his arms was loosely wrapped around Tony’s neck, while the other cradled Bucky Bear close to his chest (the soft fur tickling the edge of his Iron Man t-shirt).

The scents of motor oil and cologne were heavy in his nose, and it prompted him to close his eyes once again. Within a second he was lost again, asleep and dead weight in his dad's arms as he softly snored. Tony smirked when he heard the sound, both because he knew Peter needed the sleep desperately and he found the sound absolutely adorable. Peter sounded like a bear cub, softly snoring and snuggled up to his mama bear, in this case the mama bear being Tony himself which made the situation even cuter.

The next time Peter’s eyes flicked open, his head was rested against the softest pillow imaginable. It felt like he was laying on a cloud or cotton candy or anything else unbelievably soft. All around him was a fortress of pillows surrounding the figure of the boy curled into a fetal position on the bed. The pillows created a sort of fence around him, thick and several inches high, as if whoever had created it was scared Peter would roll right off of  the bed and hurt himself.

The sheets on the bed were dark grey and far too silky to be his own cotton, Avengers themed bedding. The pillow case was soft and silky against his face and Peter snuggled his face into it. The bed itself was monstrous, spanning the space of two full sized kind beds pushed together. It felt like he was a tiny island in the middle of a vast ocean, and the pillows served as the boundaries. Without them, Peter would go plummeting into the water and drown in its depths.  

Peter was exhausted and wanted his eyes to droop shut once more. But before they did, he felt the bed shift in the smallest way. The boy’s head blearily turned to the left at the movement, blinking rapidly and trying to let his vision focus on the sight next to him. He was exhausted sure, but sleeping in a bed with an unknown person was pretty high on his list of dumb things.

Eventually he made out the form of a man laying on top of the sheets, outside of the confines of the fortress of pillows surrounding the boy. His dad’s hair stuck out in every direction and his legs were curled up close to his body, his arms holding them close to his chest.

The man looked disheveled, yet perfectly at ease in his state of slumber. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a million years and Peter grinned at him before letting his own eyes flicker shut once more, maybe tonight the man would sleep peacefully for once in his life. And maybe tomorrow he would wake up well rested, ready to start Peter’s surprise day.