Trust Issues

Peter blinked his eyes blearily, his eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings or rose petals falling from flowers in a warm spring breeze. His mind felt fuzzy and he felt like he was stuck half way between being awake and asleep. He wasn’t sure if he had ever been truly asleep, but Winnie The Pooh had been turned to mute in the background and there was a half warm puddle of drool soaking into the soft pillow his head was leaning on; and the fuzzy blanket was wrapped around his body in a way that could only have happened from a restless body moving in sleep. 

The boy felt his face tint bright red when he realized that the drool had been a result of spit leaking from the space between where his fingers were in his mouth and the corner of his lips. He wasn’t sure why he was sucking his fingers, it felt quite infantile…not that anything today hadn’t felt infantile, but it also made him feel warm and fuzzy and safe. 

He gave the fingers an experimental suck, rolling his tongue over his skin. Surprisingly, it felt soothing and Peter found himself smiling softly and then sucking harder. It turned into a rhythm, Peter sucking on the fingers of one hand while using the other hand to  run over the fuzzy surface of the blanket. 

It embarrassed the boy slightly, but his entire life he had been obsessed with textures- especially soft ones. He could spend hours enthralled by the way warm blankets or stuffed animals felt on his skin, or the way soft skin felt under the pads of his fingers. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you awake for good this time?” Mr. Stark asked in a tone so sweet it sounded like he was talking to a toddler. 

It was the first time the boy noticed that the man was sitting next to him on the couch and Peter went to pull the fingers out of his mouth, embarrassed. It was one thing to enjoy the infantile finger-sucking when he thought he was alone, but it was an entirely different thing to let somebody else in on the actions that made him feel safe, yet like a child. 

But Tony was having none of that. He started at Peter with such determination and love that the boy wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around the man’s body and never let go. He wanted to be loved and hugged and kissed on the forehead and more than anything else in the world, he wanted the man to take care of him. 

Tony wrapped his larger, calloused hand around Peter’s own small hand in his mouth. He held it firm, not letting Peter move. The boy knew he would be able to break away if he really wanted to, but he liked feeling small and almost helpless in Tony’s hands so let it happen, while letting his super strength fade to the back of mind. He was with Mr. Stark and he was being protected and the man wanted him to be happy and that was all that mattered to him anyways. 

“It’s ok if you want to suck on them,” Tony said, using the overly sweet tone once again. “I want you to be happy and I promise I’m not judging you. If it makes you happy, it makes you happy cutie. I’m just here to help you do the things you know make you happy already and discover what you don’t know that will make you happy as well.” 

Peter face was bright red at Tony’s encouraging words and he tilted his head down, staring at his lap as the man continued speaking. “I bet you’re pretty sleepy, kid. You were in and out of it for a while, but I’m hoping that final quick nap helped.”

Peter felt like his entire face was on fire. He had never blushed this much in his entire life and part of him wanted to melt into the floor. But the larger part of him wanted to let Mr. Stark treat him as young as he currently was. He wanted to let Mr. Stark wrap him up in a protective hug and play with his hair and help him with everything and he wanted to be loved- he needed to feel loved. 

“I’m thinking I can set you up coloring.” Tony started, rubbing the pads of his fingers over Peter’s hand, still not letting go. “I printed a Cinderella coloring sheet just for you while you were napping and I got it all ready for you.” 

True to Tony’s words, there was a Cinderella themed coloring sheet sitting on the coffee table, next to what Peter swears is nearly fifty crayola crayons. There are crayons in every hue and shade of every color of the rainbow, as well as four different blacks and two whites. It looks extravagant and Peter feels a mixture of guilt and confusion. 

He hated when Mr. Stark spent so much money on him. He had grown up with close to nothing in so many situations. He was the kid on reduced lunch at school and on scholarship and it made him the target of horrible, classist bullies. He never had enough money for food or clothing or backpacks growing up and he was used to going without. 

But then there was Tony. Tony who would special order crayons for him and take him to his favorite museum and buy him whatever his heart ever desired. Sometimes Peter worried that Mr. Stark may confuse his money for showing affection, but he never did. Mr. Stark would show him love even if he was homeless and living on the streets. His money was merely a tool to show Peter that love and the boy deeply understood that. 

Peter nodded his head, still keeping his fingers in his mouth, because he truly did want to color and use all the cool crayons that Mr. Stark had gotten him. He wanted to play and color and let everything else fade into the background. 

Tony smiled in response, finally releasing the boy’s hand, and then helping Peter maneuver onto the floor. The man had set up a pile of pillows on the floor and Peter’s small frame sunk into the little nest of cushions. Bucky Bear was placed on his lap, the bear’s floppy limbs spread over his small legs.

Using the hand not in his mouth, Peter grabbed a handful of blue and silver crayons. Tony settled into the couch with a Starkpad to do some work, as the boy scribbled away at the coloring sheet. His tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration as he draw and within twenty minutes, Cinderella and her two mice friends were completely filled in. 

He glanced up at Mr. Stark. The man looked completely concentrated, one hand flying across the Starkpad and the other tapping the surface of the couch, and Peter wanted nothing more than to go sit in his lap and let the man play with his hair. But he didn’t want to be a burden and  Peter didn’t want to interrupt the man while he was working. 

So instead he grabbed red, gold and blue crayons and started free hand scribbling. He drew Spider-Man swinging from the top of the page, Iron Man quickly following behind with his gauntlet out. He then drew a large, bright yellow sun with sunglasses and a smile and a blue sky with fuzzy, pink clouds and butterflies. 

When his coloring page was completely full of sketches and ideas, nearly an hour and a half later, Peter started thinking of ideas for why Iron Man and Spidey had to protect Cinderella. Maybe Cinderella was being bullied just like Peter was and Mr. Stark had to save her as well. Peter started babbling to himself quietly about how Mr. Stark was going to save her because he saved Peter and he was the best, best, best. 

A plastic bowl of macaroni and cheese, a small plate of cut up fruit and a plastic cup of water clattered against the coffee table, startling Peter from his babbling, and Tony plopped next to him on the ground. “It’s lunch time, kiddo!” Tony shoved a plastic fork into Peter’s hands, the boy wasn’t sure when the man acquired so much plastic cutlery and dishes, before digging into his own bowl of mac and cheese. 

The mac and cheese was delicious, smooth and creamy and cheesy, and Peter smiled. “Thanks for the mac and cheese.”

Tony ruffled his hair, “Don’t speak with your mouth full, cutie. But you’re welcome.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair one more time. “Don’t forget to eat your fruit as well.”

Peter popped a large chunk of pineapple into his mouth, juice dripping down his bare hands. The man chuckled at him, while scooping some of his own mac and cheese into Peter’s bowl. Peter was unsure if it was due to Tony wanting Peter to eat more or for Tony to eat less. 

He hated thinking that Tony would be fueled by his own reckless abandon about his health. But he knew Mr. Stark quite well and it wouldn’t surprise him. Tony was terrible at taking care of himself. He had a hard time eating at the right times or even at all sometimes and Peter used to blame it on the man simply forgetting that food existed. 

But Tony always remembered to feed Peter without fail and that made the boy blame Mr. Stark’s poor eating habits on self hate. It made Peter want to cry out and scream because Tony was perfect and amazing and everything the boy loved in this world. He didn’t want to have to think about the man hating himself so much that he would go above forgetting to eat and deny himself the nutrients he needed to survive. 

“You’re such a messy, kiddo.” Tony’s eyes were bright and shining and Peter found the concern slip away from him like snow melting in the spring.“You’re my messy kiddo, though.” He added softly and in such a way Peter felt like he was going to melt into a pool of happiness and love and undying affection from the man. 

He loved being referred to as Tony’s kid, even when Tony was gently teasing him. It made him feel loved and like he had a place. He was Tony’s kid and that meant that he was one of the most important people in Tony’s life. It filled him with awe to think that he actually meant that much to the man, Peter’s own self hate creeping into his mind, but he kept on reminding himself that he deserved to think about himself as somebody important. He was important to Tony and that meant that he had value. 

Peter popped another tart piece of pineapple into his mouth, ignoring the ay it mixed with the taste of mac and cheese. He chewed slowly and focused on living in the moment and cherishing the feeling of every little moment between him and Tony. 

The rest of lunch went quickly and in almost complete silence. Both Tony and Peter were quite hungry and they scarfed down their mac and cheese, and fruit for Peter, in haste. Often silence was uncomfortable, but their silence was warm and welcoming. 

When they finished, Tony dipped the corner of his napkin in Peter’s plastic cup of water and wiped the boy’s face off. Peter scrunched his nose up, but he was compliant and he let Tony clean him up. 

“That’s a good boy.” Tony soothed and Peter felt his face tint red. He hadn’t known that being called a good boy would make him feel so complete, but something about the way Tony said it made his entire body feels like it was glowing.

“Am I really a good boy?” Peter tilted his head to his side, his fingers had made its way back into his mouth and he nipped at the fruity residue. 

Tony smiled at him, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “You’re the best boy in the entire world, Petey!” 

Peter’s smile was large and lopsided and he bounced up and down on his butt, quickly scrambling up and then bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “I’m the best boy, the best, best boy!”

“It’s true,” Mr. Stark laughed, smiling fondly at the boy and getting up as well. But then his warm smile turned to a smirk, “Even good boy’s can’t escape from the tickle monster, though. You and Bucky Bear better hide little boy!”

Peter scooped up the bear, laughing so hard his sides hurt. He then went barreling through the room at top speed, his bare feet slapping against the ground as he ran away from Tony. 

One arm was out to the side, flapping his arm like a bird and the other arm held Bucky Bear above his head. “He’s flying! Bucky Bear’s flying and flying bears always can escape the tickle monster!” He exclaimed, his giggling sounding like the personification of warm rain and windchimes on beachside shacks and little yellow and white flowers growing underneath park benches and rusted swing sets.

Tony’s own feet pounded against the ground behind him as he chased the boy. “The tickle monster is going to get you and Bucky Bear!” He screamed in a silly, overly deep tone. “You can’t escape me no matter how cute you are.”

Peter giggled once again, before pushing his lip out in a pout. “Nuh uh, the tickle monster will never get me.”

“Whatever you say, kid.”  Tony’s deeper laughs mixed with Peter's giggles and it was the most domestic, wholesome sound Peter had ever heard in his life. “The tickle monster never loses.” 

It turned out that Tony was right, the tickle monster never loses, and within a second his fingers were digging into Peter’s sides. The boy squirmed and flailed, crying out and laughing so hard he feared that he might wet himself. 

“The tickle monster in victorious!” Tony exclaimed, digging his fingers further in until Peter’s body was entirely off balance. He was squirming and giggling and flailing until whap. 

Pain exploded in Peter’s skull as he toppled forward and his head hit the corner of the coffee table. He felt like he was in shock as big, fat, hot tears sprung to his eyes and then like fingers snapping his body was jostled back into the present and he started sobbing at the intense pain.

His head hurt so much and he was confused and disoriented and the pain felt like it was under a microscope. He felt like a live end of wire and he thrashed and contorted as Tony’s hands reached forward and lodged themselves under his armpits, trying to pull him away from the offending table. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Tony’s voice was wet, as if he was crying himself, as he spoke soothing words. “You’re going to be ok, cutie. I promise. You’re going to be fine, it’s just a little boo-boo, you’re ok. Cutie, you’re going to be ok. You’re fine, Petey. ” 

Tony’s muscles strained as he struggled to pick Peter up. It was hard because Tony wasn’t particularly huge and it didn’t help that the boy was struggling against him. Peter didn’t want to act like a baby who needed to be comforted after he was hurt. He didn’t want to burden Tony and he felt embarrassed and he was in so much pain. It hurt so much. It hurt. It hurt. 

He felt like the entire day of fun and playing and good times he had with Tony was fading away. He just felt like a dumb teenager playing at something he wasn’t. He felt like he was tricking everyone, tricking Tony into thinking that he needed love and protection and good things and he wanted out. He didn’t want to make Tony deal with him. He didn't want to ruin the positivity and love with tears and whining and pain.

But then Tony was pulling the smaller boy onto his lap and his apprehension disappeared within a second. Peter melted into his skin, all his fears and insecurity leaving like it was being washed down the drain. The boy swore Tony had some sort of magic, because his touch alone was enough to not only soothe the boy, but also make him feel like everything in this entire world was going to be ok again. 

He pressed his ear against Tony’s heart, listening to it beat and trying to even his breath out to match the man’s own breathing. Tears still ran down his face, but at this rate they matched the dull throb of his head that was already slowing down, instead of the erratic pace it had previously been. 

“Hey now,” Tony ran his hand from the base of Peter’s back all the way up his neck several times, before finishing by ruffling the boy’s hair softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t being more careful.” He whispered, while continuing to play with the boy’s hair. “It was my job to be careful and your job to let go. I was supposed to take care of you and let you feel little and young and carefree. I failed you. I failed you so bad, Peter and I’m so sorry. I’m a horrible person and you probably never want to talk to me again.”

Peter took a shaky breath in, trying to stop himself from completely freaking out. He hated hearing Mr. Stark speak in such a self deprecating manner. He loved Tony more than just about anyone, god he really loved Tony, and he didn’t want him to beat himself up over this. In fact he wanted Mr. Stark to truly understand that despite him getting hurt, Tony was still giving him more love and affection and peace of mind and body than anyone had ever had in his life. Tony wasn’t  failing him because he was only human and humans make mistakes. 

But the words felt stuck in his throat and he wasn’t sure how to express that all to Tony like the young adult Peter knew he wasn’t acting like. The boy wasn’t stupid, he knew that teenagers didn’t act the way he did. He knew that other teenagers didn’t love being  cuddled and coddled and helped with everything. They didn’t like having help getting dressed and eating and they didn’t like being treated like they were a decade younger than they were. 

That knowledge caused insecurity to creep through his veins like weeds. His fears and doubts taunted him, screaming at him that he was bad and stupid and young and that he didn’t desrve Tony’s love.  

But at the same time, how Tony treated him made him feel safer than he had ever felt in his entire life. His actions made him feel small and young and protected and he cherished those  feelings more than he cherished anything else in this world. He had spent far too long being beaten down, bullied and hurt and all he needed was a little but of love and kindness and support. 

Peter wiped his face against Tony’s shirt like a cat, simultaneously ridding his face of trails of dried tears and the last of the wet ones as well. He also found comfort in the feeling of the soft fabric of the shirt. 

Tony tightened his grip on the boy, pulling him impossibly closer and in the process Peter felt his butt fall even further into Tony’s lap. His face was red like an overripe strawberry or rose petals.  But he wasn’t exactly embarrassed- only feeling small and confused and happy and a little but fuzzy. 

“I love you, Peter.” Tony whispered into his hair before pressing his lips to the pulsating spot where his head had connected with the table. It was now throbbing dully and Peter swore the kiss made it feel strangely better. Mr. Stark must have some sort of magical healing kisses power. 

“You don’t deserve boo-boos just because I messed up.” Tony kissed the spot again, transferring every bit of emotion from the contact into the kiss. 

Peter squirmed in the older man’s lap, finally forcing his words to work. “You didn’t mess up” The boy insisted quickly. He moved his head to be off of Tony’s chest and instead he was staring up at the man- trying to convey every ounce of love and adoration he had for the man in his glance. “I promise you didn’t mess up” He insisted again, because he truly didn’t want the perfect man he was sitting on to feel bad or like he ruined something special between them. 

“We were just playing, Mr. Stark. And sometimes people get hurt when they play, but that’s alright. I promise it’s alright.”

Tony was looking at him with more love and devotion and warmth than Peter had ever seen in his entire life. He looked like Peter was his favorite person and the man held onto the boy tightly, as if wanted nothing more than to never let the boy go again. 

“When I saw the bruise on your face a few days ago, I felt like I was seeing red. It made me so scared to think that somebody had hurt you and that I wasn’t able to do anything to stop it.” He ran his hand over Peter’s tear stained face, tracing the area in which the bruise had been before it had faded. “I’m Iron Man and I know I could kick their butts if I wanted to, which makes me feel even sadder. I’m Iron Man and I couldn't even protect my own kid from a bully.”

Peter felt tears run down his face once more, like raindrops rolling down a car window. He hated that Mr. Stark felt this way and he wanted nothing more than to make it all better and promise the man that it was all going to be alright. But he also wanted to be selfish for once in his life and focus on letting go and being distinctly not in charge of his happiness or anyone else's happiness for that matter. 

Peter stuffed his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them like his life depended on it. He didn’t want to be in charge right now and he wanted to let go. He needed to let go. 

As if reading Peter’s mind, Tony softly added to his last words. “ I’m sorry for trying to put it on you, Petey. You should just relax.”

Tony held Peter tightly, squeezing him and planting another kiss on his head. “You’re my baby Peter and I don’t know what I would do without you… I would do anything to keep you safe and happy” 

Peter felt a soft tear fall down his face and Tony caught it with the pad of his thumb. He’s not sure if he’s crying because he’s happy or because he’s not sure what he would do without Tony either. He wants to think he would be ok, but he’s almost sure that he wouldn’t be ok. Part of him thinks that he would simply fall apart without Tony and that part of him scares him far more than the part that likes when Tony treats him like a child. 

Peter leaned his head against Tony’s shoulder. He sucked methodically on his fingers and focused on the weight in his mouth and the feeling of his body in Tony’s lap. Every contact between them felt like he was touching liquid sunshine. He felt like he was high on his own happiness and the feeling of being loved by the man. 

“I love you too, Mr. Stark.” Peter mumbled around the fingers in his mouth. His head still hurt, but by this point it was a dull throb at the very back of his mind thanks to his super healing; and the only thing that mattered was reminding Mr. Stark how much he loved him.