Trust Issues

“Hey bud,” A warm hand shook Peter’s shoulder gently, pulling him from the fuzzy warmth of the best sleep the teen had had in months. 

“It’s time to wake up kiddo.” Tony’s voice was soft, warm, high pitched and overly sweet like a melted candy bar dripping with sugar. The man sounded like he was talking to a small child who couldn’t quite understand the normal tone of a full grown man, or perhaps a puppy who couldn’t truly understand english at all. He seemed to be communicated more in terms of tone and pitch and the words wrapped around Peter’s entire being like a warm hug; only serving to make the boy feel even sleepier and making him want to roll over and fall back asleep.  

Tony continued to shake Peter’s shoulder, getting slightly rougher as the seconds ticked by without a response (though never rough enough to actually hurt the sleeping child, only more thoroughly rouse him). But the boy was determined to ignore the sensation, rather keeping his eyes clamped shut and refusing to open them.

Peter rolled onto his side expecting to stretch out and let his muscles breath. But instead, his small body collided with a large stack of pillows laid out next to him on the bed with a soft ‘thump’. Frowning slightly in confusion, the boy blearily cracked open one eye  in an attempt to see what had stopped his rolling. Now that he wasn’t shrouded in sleep, he couldn’t quite figure out where he was or why there was a massive stack of pillows next to him on the bed- containing him and keeping him from moving. 

Sun streamed into the room from the sleek floor to ceiling windows on the other side of the bedroom. Peter’s vision danced with sunspots as he took in the sight of the numerous pillows, stacked in a sort of wall surrounding the boy, only inches away from his face. He was still confused, but for the most part it seemed like the soft wall was meant to keep the boy in place or keep him from completely rolling off the side of the bed  and crashing onto the ground.

The bed itself was made of expensive looking sleek, dark wood. It was adorned in hues of grey and black on the many sheets, blankets and pillows. The fabric felt smooth and silky, yet undeniably warm and cozy, no doubt having soaked in the warmth of the sun streaming in from the large windows on the wall for several hours of the morning already. 

Peter stretched his legs out vertically like a cat bathing in the sun. He blinked a few more times, letting his eyes focus and his irises dilute to adjust to the sunny room. He didn’t quite want to wake up, but it still felt refreshing to bathe in the warmth of the sunlight. For the first time in forever, it truly felt like he had received a full night of sleep and he was feeling refreshed, yet still lethargic and a little sleepy.

“Looks like someone finally decided to let me see his beautiful, big brown eyes!” Tony teased him slightly, his own warm brown eyes meeting Peter’s. The boy knew he was joking around, but he still blushed and squirmed slightly under the man’s gaze. He hated feeling embarrassed, but Tony’s teasing never felt anything but paternal and he always knew it was well intentioned and heartfelt. 

The man was sitting on the large bed next to him, having broken the large stack of pillows in order to sit even closer to the sleepy boy. He was wearing lounge clothing, which were most likely his pajamas from the previous night because it felt like a lazy, not changing kind of a morning already. 

A faded t-shirt with some sort of hard rock band logo hugged his toned torso and his bottom half sported bright green sweatpants. On the fuzzy green fabric, the word ‘smash’ was spelled out in large, blocky, purple text across the side and little hulk fists danced across the entire surface of the fabric. He looked comfortable and Peter felt a strong urge to wrap his arms around the man in a tight hug and never let go. 

 Tony was sitting cross legged on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees and looking quite earnest. His dark brown hair stuck up in every direction, giving him the appearance of a mad scientist, and he bit at his chapped lips every few seconds with nerves. One of his hands was still resting gently on Peter’s shoulder and the other was running across the soft grey sheets- clenching the fabric every few seconds with nerves. 

“I’ve been waiting to see those big brown eyes of yours all morning sweetheart.”  His voice was still soft, but this time like sunshine creeping over the skyline on the first warm morning during the beginning of spring. “I wanted to let you sleep in, cutie, because you had such a rough few days, but I was getting a little impatient waiting for you to wake up and join me, Petey.”

Peter smiled a large, lopsided grin at the nickname. The name sounded new and a little younger than normal, but regardless it made him happy to hear and he felt like he was glowing. 

 Tony’s hand caressed Peter’s shoulder as he was talking, the pads of his fingers tracing shapes into the skin and mischievously tickling every few seconds. “But now that you’re up we can get started with our patent pending super duper chill, awesometacular, lazy day.” Tony shifted, the sheets crinkling under his weight, and he used the hand on Peter’s shoulder to help the boy sit up straight. 

Peter was still wearing the same bright red Iron Man t-shirt and stupid elastic cargo shorts from the day before, Tony not having had patience to change the sleepy boy the night before. The shirt was now distinctly rumpled from the boy having slept in it and the once snug waistband of the cargo shorts dug into his slim waist, creating little intents in his soft skin. The boy wiggled his toes, noting that his socks and shoes had been discarded before the boy had been placed into the large bed. 

“Sorry about that.” Peter looked at the man with a confused expression, unsure of what the man meant by the comment. But Tony quickly clarified, “I was scared of getting you dressed into pjs or some comfier clothing  because I thought it might wake you up. So instead, I left you in your outfit from yesterday. But, it probably wasn’t super comfy to sleep in, so I’m sorry I didn’t think to change you into something else, cutie.”

Peter’s face turned bright red, both at the nickname and the apology (as well as the still overly sweet tone the man had). He liked to think that he didn’t need to be changed into his pajamas like some toddler who had fallen asleep in the car and been placed into their parents' bed for the night; but deep inside, he knew that he secretly didn’t mind the thought very much. 

“I can help you now though, kiddo” Tony added hastily, leaving no room for Peter to claim he didn’t need help as he helped guide the groggy teen to stand up. He wobbled for the first second and Tony’s hands reached out to help him stay firmly upright.  

Tony’s large hands quickly stripped him down to his underwear, causing Peter to blush slightly. The discarded clothing lay in a rumpled pile of fabric on the bed, the bright red of the shirt in deep contrast with the dark sheets and comforter. In a strange sense it symbolically represented the difference between Peter and Tony, and the boy laughed at that thought. 

Tony then slotted his hand into Peter’s, leading the sleepy boy towards his own closet. “We could head to your room kiddo, but I think you want to get out of your undies as soon as possible because it’s a little chilly and don’t think I didn’t notice your blush. It’s not a big deal though, Petey, nothing a little boy like you should worry about anyways. You’re small, but you can wear my clothing- it’ll just be a little big.”

Peter felt like his face had never been hotter in his entire life. His blush spread from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. The way Tony was treating him made him feel loved, yet mortified all at the same time. It felt like a huge ball of emotions was sitting like a pit in his stomach and he hated himself for being so confused. 

He hated himself even more for loving the way it felt. No normal teenage boy should love being treated like a toddler. They shouldn't love being treated like they were helpless, fragile and emotionally unstable. But Peter sure loved it. It made him feel better than he had ever felt before. 

A large shirt dropped onto Peter’s shoulders, engulfing his tiny body in it’s warmth. The shirt was so long it covered his underwear and settled at his lower thigh near his knee caps. The fabric smelled like coconut laundry detergent, Mr. Stark’s expensive cologne and motor oil. It was an intoxicating scent of safety and Peter found himself lifting the sleeve to his nose to take a large sniff- humming in approval at the scent.   

“You need to help me out by lifting one leg at a time, kid” 

Peter wasn’t quite sure how he missed Tony crouching down in front of him with a pair of Star War sweatpants in his hands. But he quickly complied, lifting his legs one at a time for Tony to pull the bunched up pants over his legs. The man than pulled the pants up and over his underwear. Pulling the drawstring snug against his waist, after rolling the waistband twice, the man then bent down once again to also roll up the too long fabric bunching at the boy’s ankles. 

When Tony stood again, he stared straight into Peter’s eye’s. Sensing the boy’s appreshion, he reached out a hand to run through his loose curls as he started speaking. “Hey kiddo, I know you’re probably a little spooked right now, but I need you to trust me.” Peter’s eyes flitted down, but Tony used the hand in his curls to guide his eye back to his own. “I know this is not what you want to hear, but you’re spiraling out of control kid and I can’t just sit here and watch it happen, I love you too much to not do anything about it”

The hand not in his hair ghosted over the mostly healed black eye on Peter’s face. “If you’re not going to take care of yourself, I’m going to take care of you. That’s my job Peter and I can’t let you destroy yourself well I sit by complacently. It’s not happening kid. And I know you are scared, but I promise it is going to be ok. All you have to do is trust me for today. I want you to just let go and let me be in charge. You are going to forget everything that’s stressing you and just focus on what I say we should do. If I say we’re going to color, we’re going to color. If I say we’re going to eat mac and cheese for lunch, we’re going to eat mac and cheese for lunch. I want you to just listen to me and focus on acting like a happy kid. Tomorrow we’re going to figure out the whole Flash situation, but today you’re just going to relax and you’re going to let me be in charge. You don’t have to worry about anything but having fun. If you have an actual problem or concern please tell me and I will stop everything and we can figure this out another way. But if you don’t, we’re going to try it my way today. Does that sound good, kiddo?” 

Peter nodded his head quickly, because that sounded better than good. It sounded fantastic and he truly wanted nothing more than to forget all about the hurt in his life and just let go and let Tony be in charge of the situation. 

Tony’s hand gave Peter’s curls one more quick ruffle before he turned on his heels, grabbing Peter’s arms and particularly skipping through the hallway and towards the kitchen on the other side of the floor. 

“I’m thinking of doing blueberry AND chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. You’ve had a rough few days and we can definitely benefit from living on the wild side and doing something crazy, kiddo.”

Tony wiggled his eyebrows at the boy as if the thought of blueberries and chocolate chips mixed together was the craziest thing imaginable. And to be fair, Peter kind of did think it was crazy to be eating such a rad breakfast. He was a disaster high school student and rarely ate breakfast on normal days, rather either ditching the first several periods to avoid Flash’s taunts and fists or running into class later after missing his train and being a completely panicked mess. Eating breakfast, especially something as yummy as chocolate chip blueberry pancakes, meant that for once in his life Peter was taking care of his body in a healthy and productive way and giving himself the proper fuel for his body to function that morning. 

Peter stuck his tongue out at Tony as the man pulled out a stool at the island and helped the boy get situated on the seat. The boy knew he could sit down all by himself, but he let himself be helped when he remembered the man’s earlier request to relax and let him be completely and a hundred percent in charge. He would let Mr. Stark take care of himself even if it meant doing embarrassing stuff like helping him sit at a bar stool or get dressed in new clothing.  

It was one of those high stools and Peter’s legs dangled about half a foot above the tile flooring of the kitchen. The boy tentatively swung his legs out, remembering what he would have done when he was a true child. He hadn’t had a stellar life when he was a little kid, never truly experiencing being small and loved and protected, so it was hard to remember what it felt like to let go and let Mr. Stark be in charge of everything. But eventually he was so hyper yet simultaneously relaxed that the boy let out a silly, high pitched giggle every time he swung his legs back and forth. He admired the nerdy Star Wars print on his sweatpants swishing back and forth and the way he felt like he was flying through the air every swing. 

He propped his head on the flat side of his hand, his elbow resting on the countertop, and he let his hair flop down into his face and into his eyes. His legs were still pumping back and forth enthusiastically and his mind wandered so much that he let himself believe he was actually on his swing in the park he used to go to with his parents when he was really little and before they passed away. 

 Through the sheen of his hair he could see Tony bustling around the kitchen, collecting ingredients and tying a frilly pink and green apron around his waist. He was humming a soft, upbeat tune and moving his hips back and forth on the beat- dancing like no one was watching. When he saw that the boy was staring at him he started to sing even louder, reaching his hand towards Peter as if he was serenading the boy and dancing even more enthusiastically. 

After a few minutes of Tony continuing to dance and bop around the kitchen, a small glass bowl was pushed across the counter towards him. It was filled to the brim with huge bright blueberries and mini chocolate chips. Peter worked his lips at the man in confusion. “In case you want to munch on anything well I work on breakfast.” Tony provided as an explanation, before bopping back over to the other side of the counter.

Several minutes later, when the boy was thoroughly covered in smudges of chocolate  on his cheekbones and forehead and blueberry juice all around his mouth and on his shirt, the griddle sizzled as pancake batter was poured onto the buttery hot surface. Peter’s mouth watered as he watched the batter bubble around the edges and then get flipped and finally land in a neat stack on a plate that had been placed in front of him. 

Tony quickly finished making three more batches of pancakes, placing the larger portion on Peter’s plate and a far smaller portion on his own plate. The boy needed extra food to support his superhuman metabolism, however he rarely asked for the amount of food he truly needed. He was afraid of being a burden on Mr. Stark or his Aunt. Food was expensive and he didn’t want to spend Aunt May’s little amount of extra money on something so stupid; in the case of Mr. Stark, he truly did not want to be seen as selfish or greedy with the billionaire's seemingly endless supply of cash. 

 Tony grabbed both their plates, as well as a partially used stick of butter and a sticky container of maple syrup, depositing them on the coffee table in the living room before he helped the boy walk in the same direction by guiding him by the hand. 

Peter fleetingly wondered if Mr. Stark would be carrying him around, nestled on his hip like a toddler, if he was a small child rather than merely a small teenager. He would cuddle him up against his chest, cradling the back of his head and supporting him with his large, warm arms. Peter doesn’t think he would mind being carried by Tony. In a strange sense he desired it deeper than any other thing in the entire world. He hadn’t had a father in so long, all he wanted was to feel loved again. 

His early childhood had been rocky to say the least. He had spent far too much time with tear filled eyes as he was bullied relentlessly and moved from foster home to foster home in the half a year before he was placed with his aunt and uncle. He never spent more than a few weeks at a time in a home because they never wanted a cry baby like him, a little kid who couldn’t get over his parents death or ‘move on’- regardless of the fact that it was so fresh in his young mind. 

Looking back on it, Peter doesn’t understand why they were obsessed with him moving on. When a young child's parents both die at once, you would think the child would be supported in their grief. The child should be loved and cherished and supported and have a constant reminder that everything was going to turn out alright.

 But that wasn’t how the system worked. No the system meant that Peter would be treated like a piece of garbage to be shoved between houses with far too many kids and far too little money. The system meant that he would be forced to grow up far sooner than he should’ve. It made him be an adult trapped in a small child's body.

Adding to that years upon years of intense bullying, resulted in Peter feeling broken for the longest time. He was terrified of his peers and normal social interactions and before Ned, he hadn’t had any friends at all. Everyone around him hurt him and it caused him to be terrified of others and mistrusting in most situations. 

He had struggled with his mental health and in particular self hate for years before he had become Spider-Man and the whole Homecoming fiasco had only made his post traumatic stress worse. He had a whole new set of triggers and worries and it was hard for him to deal with them on top of his previous anxieties. 

It also, in a sense, made the bullying worse. Knowing that you had the ability to protect yourself and actually protecting yourself were two entirely different things. It made him feel weak and pathetic and questions his bodies every preprogrammed response to stressful or scary situations (like Flash calling him homophobic slurs or hitting him).

Tony pushed Peter down onto the couch, draping a fuzzy blanket over his small form before turning to mess with the large TV and grabbing a few more things from other rooms. 

However, before he left Winnie the Pooh started playing on the screen and Peter was so enthralled with the show that he didn’t process Tony leaving the room or returning. If he had noticed, he was scared that he would freak out at the man trying to leave. He hated to admit it, but he definitely had abandonment issues and Tony leaving, even in a seemingly meaningless way, would most likely trigger a poor reaction in the boy. 

Tony  sat down next  to the boy, curling one arm around Peter and using the other one to lean forward and cut the large portion pancakes into chewable bites. The boy was clearly out of it by that point, because he barely noticed as Tony brought the fork up to his mouth every few seconds. Alternating between feeding himself and Peter, Tony smiled softly at the fact that Peter did not complain at all as he let himself be fed like a toddler.  

Peter was completely leaning against Tony by the time the man finished feeding him the last bite from large plate of pancakes. The man was now running his hands through Peter’s hair and holding him close to his body. Bucky Bear, who Tony had retrieved when he left the room earlier, had wound up squished between their two bodies as they cuddled close. 

“I love you, Petey.” Tony whispered and Peter smiled. He folded his body into Tony’s side- letting himself feel small and loved protected as they continued to watch Winnie the Pooh. 

His mind felt a little fuzzy as Tony held him close, but he wasn’t concerned because he didn’t feel bad. In fact it felt good and Peter found himself focusing only on relaxing and not getting worked up over anything. 

The past few days had been stressful, but right now was not the time to unpack that because in that moment he knew that he was beyond safe. The bruises had faded and his stomach was full of yummy pancakes and he was watching Winnie the Pooh and he had Tony and he was  loved. He was so unbelievably loved.