Thanks Dad
“To know that,” he closed his eyes and took a breath, “that…” he let it out slowly and opened his eyes. “That I was your real Dad.”
Tony could feel his heart in his throat, it was pounding away as he stared down at his son. With eyebrows peaked up at the front, and parted lips, he waited with bated breath, hoping with everything he had that dragging himself out of his kid’s life wasn’t going to be the end result. God, it hurt, the silence that seemed to stretch on further and further as he sat, analysing every little thing the boy did, praying and pleading to who or whatever was out there, that he could stay with him forever.
“Y – y – you… you’re – you’re my – my Dad?” Peter’s eyes were glistening again, and Tony had absolutely no indication of whether that was a good sign or not, so he kept the sincere and worried expression on his face as he swallowed thickly and nodded his head.
Good, he thought, Peter had established and processed the words and hadn’t yet burst into tears or screamed at him for keeping the truth hidden away for so long. “M – me? I – I’m your son and you’re – we’re biologically related? B – by blood?” Okay, he was still in the process of registering what the words had meant, but that didn’t stop Tony from tensing up even more as he stayed suspended between the reality of my kid loves me and he hates me for never telling him.
“Yeah,” he answered softly, holding his voice together with emotionless duct tape as he willed it not to crack. “Yeah Pete, I uh… I – I’m your Dad and you’re…” he lifted a shaky hand and brushed his thumb lightly over Peter’s temple, where a stray lock of his hair had curled up into a ringlet, “and god… you – you’re my son.”
Peter was silent, his lips had peeled apart, and his eyebrows were furrowed as he thought. The honey-brown eyes Tony recognised in himself were staring off at a random spot on the wall just behind him. If he listened hard enough, he would probably be able to hear the whirring of Peter’s thoughts as they whizzed around inside his head and connected to form an understanding of what had just been unveiled.
Just like slipping the last puzzle piece into place.
Tony wondered if he could count the fact that Peter’s fist was still clutching the fabric of his shirt as a positive, but the lingering quiet that hung from the boy and surrounded them was beginning to grow worrying, much like the cloud of doubt which accumulated deep within him.
“Peter, sweetie,” the teen blinked multiple times, he was close enough to Tony that the man could see his dark eyelashes fluttering together like butterfly wings. Peter turned his head slightly to look at May and she smiled softly at him, nodding her head towards Tony.
The flush was immediate, it flooded from the tips of his ears, across his cheeks, over his nose and even began to spread down his neck before he could bury it in Tony’s neck.
His Dad’s neck…
Peter lifted his arms suddenly and they moved to wrap around the back of the mechanic’s neck, his nose pressed against the pulse point which thrummed steadily underneath soft skin. His eyes squeezed shut on their own accord, and despite the stiff numbness that still radiated from his ribs and wrist, Peter squeezed as tightly as he could.
“Thank you,” he whispered, pouring every drop of appreciation, sentiment and warmth that he could possibly force from his lips into those two words that he needed Tony to understand more than anything else. “I – I don’t know what to – what to say… I just…” Peter sucked in a massive gulp of air before it whooshed out of his lungs along with a string of words that Tony had to pick apart in order to understand. “Thankyousomuch,” he could feel the teen pulling himself even further into his chest, the smaller head was nestled on his shoulder and curls were ticking his jawline as he reciprocated the embrace. “You have no I – idea how much this means, thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
“Are you seriously saying thank you to me because I knocked someone up fourteen odd years ago?” He smiled as he dropped his face down to rest on Peter’s head as he gently settled his arms around his sides, relishing in the knowledge that he hadn’t hit the eject button on his relationship with the kid.
“No… well y – yeah I guess, I – I mean… thank you for staying.” Peter was clinging closer than Tony had ever seen, there was a wrist brace resting on the nape of his neck, an angular chin leant on his shoulder and an underfed teenager with sharp limbs practically draped over his lap, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Tony could stay protectively curled around the boy for days, and the jutting bones wouldn’t have had any impact on how much relief was filling his chest as Peter willingly nuzzled his face closer.
He had never felt more content in his life, and the more he focused on the intensity of his love for the boy before him, the more it felt like a beam of sunlight splitting through storm clouds and forming a column that he could pull Peter into. Tony would use the light of his growing affection to shelter Peter from that storm, the one that had been brewing and coiling until it rained down and left the teen unconscious, teary-eyed and bloodied, alone in his room after the hurricane had made its best effort to snuff out his light. The brightness that hung inside Peter and his everlasting strive to be enough.
“For staying?” Tony parroted confusedly, meeting May’s eyes from across the bed as Peter mumbled something into his neck quietly. He could feel the warm puffs of air blowing across his collarbone and could see as his own exhales ruffled through Peter’s soft, chocolate waves where his chin rested.
“For staying with me,” Peter murmured lightly, wishing he could make Tony fully understand what he was trying to say.
Thank you, for wanting to meet me, for building that puzzle, holding my hand and promising you’d keep visiting me. Thank you, for everything you’ve ever given me, topped with a red and gold bow, for every lonely night I could look up at my ceiling and see the stars you had hung just for me. Thank you, for fighting your way back home after Afghanistan, for filling the gaps left behind when Ben died, letting me learn with you in the workshop and knowing when I was having a bad day.
Thank you, for worrying about me when I started to slip away, for taking me out of the apartment and making sure I was fed, letting me latch onto you in the car like a shadow. Thank you, for the affectionate words and touches that wiped away a month’s worth of pain and cruel insults, for the days you would simply let me pretend things could be okay while you sat close and tinkered mindlessly by my side, or your gentle hands that shook with worry when you saw the bruises I couldn’t hide.
Thank you, for catching me when I stumbled, for holding me while I broke down and collapsed on your workshop floor into broken fragments of who I used to be, heating up soup and playing with my hair while I slept soundly for the first time in months. Thank you, for letting me sob in your arms as the echoes of those drunk men in the alley filled my mind, for holding an icepack against my head and washing away the dirty gravel that stuck to my wounds, snarling at the man who made me bleed and slamming the door in his face as you noticed me cowering away.
Tony… Dad… Thank you for saving me, for staying with me, for being there.
“Yeah, for staying with me… f – for loving me,” Peter’s voice crackled emotionally, his hand clenched tighter and Tony trusted himself enough to tilt his head and press a feather-light kiss to the crown of his head, minding the bandages that still covered parts of his skull. He smiled into the fluffy hair as Peter squeezed even tighter and nudged himself impossibly closer when he felt the delicate kiss. “Thank you,” he whispered almost silently, Tony’s lips curled even further upward, and he shut his eyes contently, shifting more of his weight back so he wasn’t holding Peter at an awkward angle.
“Kay kiddo, think it’s safe to say this is a good talk, huh?” He felt the amused huff against his neck in response and buried his quickly broadening smile in the curls he had adored for so long.
“I – I’d say so,” Peter sniffled and broke a small smile of his own as he felt Tony’s buried in his hair. “A thousand times better th – than a ‘good talk,’ I – I – I feel s – safer,” and he honestly did, enclosed in his biological father’s arms with a smile tucked away into his hair, nothing could touch him, not even the lingering tingle covering his back as the drugs wore off, or the memories of belt buckles dragging across wood floors.
Because, somehow, he knew his Dad would never let anyone like that near him again.
----
May watched Tony’s hand moving slowly, up and down the back of Peter’s neck, never disrupting the bandaging in his hair or lowering too close to his back. It had been almost an entire hour since Doctor Marshall had stepped out to give them privacy, and the freshly realised son was still latched onto his father, his blush had crept away, and his watery eyes had dried, leaving him emotionally exhausted but coherent enough to keep up with the soft conversation Tony was leading.
“– nd that’s why I waited to tell you, I was… worried you’d react badly, and I’d lose you before we ever really – well, before I ever got the chance to show you how much you mean.” The hug wasn’t as desperate now, at least, not as desperate as it had been in the beginning. Now it was looser, more relaxed and domestic, almost as if Peter had merely slumped against Tony after a long day in the lab, or he was nodding off during a movie and the mechanic had let himself be used as a makeshift pillow for the teen.
“You have though,” Peter mumbled, tilting one side of his face up to watch as Tony flicked him a confused expression. “You showed me how much I meant almost every day, I – I don’t think you understand Ton… D – Da… uhm, T – Tony, you saved me…” Peter’s face turned back into Tony’s neck and he sighed before speaking. “Y – you put the mic there… I – I don’t think you really get it, th – that saved my life. You saved my life.”
The boy’s fingers tightened minutely, and Tony knew he was about to say something that he found difficult to talk about, because he was searching for extra comfort. “I d – don’t think I would’ve… h – he said, wh – when you were getting something from your car, h – he said s – some stuff and I – I um, I – I don’t think I would have ever s – seen you again if you hadn’t come b – back for me.” Tony lifted his head and stilled the hand that had been rubbing at Peter’s neck.
“What? What do you mean – what did he say to you?” Peter twisted and squirmed in the bed until he was face to face with Tony, looking him in the eyes warily, trying as hard as he could to not listen to Carter’s voice in his head.
----
The noise of keys jingling in the front door made Peter’s head snap up. From the sound of the single set of footsteps, Carter must have convinced Tony to just go straight home after lunch. He heard the click as the knob twisted and his door was pushed open, the hallway lights silhouetting the looming figure which walked towards him angrily.
“Stark shit, thinks he can control me, thinks he can tell me what to do when I’m the one in charge.” Carter whirled his chair around, ignoring his jolt of fright at the forceful movement. “He thinks you’re just the perfect little genius, nerd, doesn’t he? Huh?” Both of the man’s hands clapped down on the arms of his desk chair, caging him in like a cornered animal as he absolutely dripped seething hate from his entire being. “So, he thinks I should treat you better?” Carter scoffed bitterly, and Peter looked away, his head drooping down to face the floor in shameful humiliation. “Stark thinks you deserve anything better that what you’re getting now, it’s pathetic.”
Cold fingers gripped his jaw forcefully, tugging his chin up to face him dead-on, squeezing his cheeks until Peter felt hot tears gathering in his eyes at the pain. The touch stung, it wasn’t the roughest the man had ever gotten, but the harshness of it all still piled atop the weight that seemed to be doing nothing but crushing him. “You know what I think? You wanna know what I feel like doing right now?” His lip trembled, and his head pounded worse than ever before, he missed Tony, he wanted Tony to be there with him, he needed to be held. “I feel like getting a beer, watching some T.V, waiting till Stark’s driven far enough away, then getting the belt back out and making sure he regret’s ever crossing me.”
Carter leaned in until Peter had fully pressed himself into the back of the chair, away from the man whose voice had dipped horribly low as his lips peeled into a slithering grin. His voice oozed acidic depravity, and the sickly, self-satisfied smirk hanging inches away from Peter made him believe that he was truly helpless. Carters mouth opened, and he purred contemptuously, “you think he’d regret it if the next time he visits, all he can find is your body?”
----
“Peter? What did he say to you before I got there? Kiddo I need you to talk to me,” Tony almost wanted to pull the boy back into his arms because the glassy look over his eyes was beginning to freak him out a bit. “Come on buddy, why wouldn’t you ever see me again? What did he say?” He reached out and gingerly rested a hand on the junction where Peter’s neck met his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
“S – sorry,” the teen seemed to shake it off, but his hand still unconsciously drifted up to hold onto Tony’s, which was still laying on his shoulder. “He just… yeah uh, j – just threatened me a – a little, h – he said something about… a – about you… f – finding my body.” Tony’s mouth closed, his teeth gritting together for what must have been the hundredth time.
“He threatened to kill you?” Peter’s head nodded from where it was still nestled over his Dad’s shoulder. May ran a hand over her face and sighed wearily, Tony only wallowed in the silence for a short time before he broke it with a whisper. His face was steely, and Peter wholeheartedly believed what he said was the truth. “I would never have let him.”
---- Two Days Later ----
“I’m sorry Sir, but we need a parent or guardian to sign the release forms, especially if you’re planning on transferring the patient to a separate facili –”
“Well it’s your lucky day then because I’ve got his legal guardian right here and I happen to be his biological father, so you can either send those papers over to my legal team or you can slide them to me and I’ll just sign them right now and we’ll be out of your hair.” The woman squinted, looked at him from over her glasses, then swivelled to look over the counter at Peter, as if she were noting the similarities between the two.
The teen wasn’t paying attention to the receptionist that dealt with discharge, even as she slowly pushed the papers over for Tony to sign, he was currently focused on his own hand, which was enveloped by his Dad’s. Their fingers were intertwined, and it reminded him of the first time they had met, the night that he had willfully reached out and clutched the mechanic’s hand, tugging him down the hall to his bedroom. He didn’t know how his younger self had more confidence than his present self, he could never just reach out and hold Tony’s hand like he had as a kid. Peter didn’t know if it was more awareness of social normalities that came with age, or more understanding of the man’s slight aversion and hesitation towards physical contact ever since Afghanistan.
Regardless, he had been silent the entire walk from his room to the front desk of the hospital as he focused on the steadying hand that Tony kept wound around his.
It hadn’t been for no reason, of course, Peter only found the work calloused hand holding his own as he attempted to walk from his bed to the door and his legs wobbled dangerously. Tony had darted forward and gripped his good hand and upper arm, Peter looked up, eyes shining, and squeezed his fingers as if letting him know he appreciated the affection. Neither of them had let go yet, and the boy was smiling as he shuffled closer into his Dad’s side, his other hand lifted to lightly hold Tony’s elbow as he signed the papers quickly, slipping them to May so she could do the same. When they finished, and Tony had tucked the pen away into his pocket, he turned to look down at Peter.
His heart swelled when he saw the smile on his kid’s face, complimenting the pinkish tint that clouded his cheeks and nose too. The teen’s black eye had faded significantly over the past two days, the swelling was entirely gone, only green and purple smears still lingered. His shin was worse off, the shading was much darker and although the doctor had confirmed x-rays showed the bone wasn’t broken or damaged in any way, it had been bruised badly. Peter had reduced the total of six butterfly bandages to just two, which still held the deepest cuts together where his skin had split above his eyebrow and cheekbone. He had been weaned off the pain medication and although he winced more often and hissed in pain occasionally, he had admitted that leaving the confines of the hospital and being transferred to somewhere familiar would have made recovery easier. He had opted not to say that anytime a figure walked past the frosted glass door to his room, he flinched on instinct and it pulled at the stitches.
Doctor Marshall had decidedly waited to discuss Peter’s back until Tony and May stepped out of the room.
Where Carter had used the buckle, the wounds needed stitching up, but there wasn’t much that could be done to fix the harsh lines of welts and lashes that the man had left across the surface of Peter’s back. The times he was helped out of bed, so he could limp to the small bathroom attached to his room, he would gingerly move fabric out of the way to inspect the parts of his back which weren’t bandaged or stitched up. He never looked for much time, staring only made him more afraid that the marks would never go away. The flesh he could see was obviously the least severe, although he could still remember what everything had looked like when he had crawled to the bathroom that night.
I don’t want to think about it.
It was hard not to think, that incident, although isolated, had terrified him to no end, burnt into his memory. The way he had barely fought back, how he had collapsed into a sobbing mess after the first lash, it made him feel weak, as if his mental courage was equivalent to his physical. His outward expression was at an all time low, Carter had pointed out countless times how scrawny he was, how skinny and how little muscle he had, but now he was right. Now, Peter’s bones jutted out and protruded, his hands would shake if he exerted almost any physical activity. The few times he had managed to clutch Tony’s arm and wander through the halls of the hospital when he grew too stir-crazy, doctors, nurses, visitors, cleaners and even other patients regarded him with pitying looks, as if he were admitted to the hospital because he had made the decision to starve himself. They were only there for a night and two days, but every time someone looked at him like that he wanted to scream.
He wanted to tear away all the gauze and bandaging from his body and yell at anyone who stared at his too-defined jawline and cheekbones, his hands that trembled even as he wrapped them around Tony’s arm and leaned on him for support as they walked. I didn’t do this to myself, Carter did. He was the one that hurt me, he was the one who starved me because I didn’t deserve food for being a brat. I never wanted this, I never asked for this, I’m not here because of choices I made, I’m here because he tried to kill me.
Tony knew that Peter wanted out, it had barely been seventy-two hours and he had grown restless, he was continuously twisting his hands together and gnawing at the inside of his cheek. He watched the boy’s eyes, they tracked everyone and everything that made movement, he stiffened and flinched at almost everything that moved without warning, loud noises made him inhale sharply and brace himself as if he were waiting for a blow that never came.
Sure, the doctor hadn’t seemed overly worried about the boy’s weight, even though he had lost almost all the muscle his body had ever possessed, and looked halfway to skeletal, but he had made sure the teen was aware he needed to put all the weight back on. Tony would be making sure of that, he promised himself to ensure that Peter knew he could have food any time he wanted, and there would be absolutely no punishments for eating.
“Hey kiddo?” Tony winced when he saw Peter jolt from the corner of his eye. “Sorry,” he said sincerely, dropping his voice and turning so he was actually facing the teen, “you about ready to blow this joint?” The boy took a moment, then he smiled and nodded wordlessly, his fingers tightening as he leaned further into Tony’s side.
“Y – yeah, I’d like that,” he confirmed while his smile broadened as the hand he held squeezed back reassuringly.
“We’ll stop for food, I could go for some burgers right about now, you up for that?” The doors slid open for them and he felt Peter’s small form shudder as the wind hit them, he was beyond grateful May had thought to pick up some clothes from home, because he was able to slow and flip the hood on the kid’s sweatshirt up.
“This is me,” the two turned to see May gesturing to her car, keys in hand.
“You’re heading back to the apartment?” Tony asked, still aware of the hand tucked away in his own.
“Yeah, work called, and I really think it would be a good idea for you two to spend some time together, maybe a few days at the tower.” She smiled warmly at Peter, “I can stop by anytime you guys want, the tower isn’t out of the way, I drive past it on my way home each night.” She kissed the top of Peter’s head and waved as she turned and walked for her car, Tony rubbed the boy’s shoulder with his free hand.
“You okay with staying at the tower for a bit?” Peter turned to look up at him as they started walking again, he smiled as warmly as May had.
“Yeah – yeah, I’d really like that.”
----
Tony threw his balled-up burger wrapper, it hit the lip of the bin and bounced back off, rolling along the floor until it stopped about a foot away from the original target. Peter laughed from beside him, he’s overexaggerating the humour of the situation but Tony overlooks it when the boy’s forehead bumped against his shoulder as he hunched over and giggled amusedly.
“I – I – Iron Man sucks at basketball,” he managed to get out through the laughter. There was a flush across his face, but unlike many other occasions it’s not because he was shy, but because he was doubled over and laughing heavily.
“Oh yeah ha ha, so hilarious Peter. Let’s see what you got, huh?” There was no bite in his response, he was grinning now too, especially when Peter leaned into his chest completely as he slumped from the exertion of giggling. “Big words for someone with appalling depth perception,” he draped an arm over the teen’s shoulders and bent his face down so his nose touched the nape of Peter’s neck.
Tony felt as the boy melted under the affectionate gesture before his arms reached up to curl around his neck softly. “That was at least half a point for effort, right?” He murmured into Peter’s curls, his chin slipped down to allow his forehead to rest where his nose had just been.
“I don’t think that’s how basketball works,” the teen whispered back. They were both quiet for a short moment before Peter broke it, the humour had drained from his voice slightly and although he was seemingly trying to pass it off as a joke, his tone was bordering on dismal when he quietly continues, “but then again, what do I know about sports?”
‘He’s pretty scrawny, unathletic, doesn’t play any sport, it was really only a matter of time till he would start to get picked on, especially as a kid like him.’
Tony exhaled out his nose at the memory of Carter’s derogatory words, he let himself wind a free arm around Peter’s middle and pulled him closer. “You don’t need to know anything about something you don’t find interesting, you know more than enough about science. In fact, you probably know more than everyone else at your school put together, when it comes to academics.” He tilted his head up and Peter tucked his chin over his shoulder almost immediately.
Peter was the one who broke the silence again.
“Tony?” He hummed in response, casually carding his fingers though Peter’s hair. “C – can I… um, I mean, d – do I call you… y’know, do I call you Dad now?” His voice wavered, and it was clear how hesitant he was to ask, but Tony didn’t mind in the slightest, he merely hid his smile and answered warmly.
“You can do whatever you want to, your choice.” He felt the teen pressing closer and the small hands that had been wrapped around his neck squeezed tighter as Peter spoke softly.
“Okay Dad,” he felt the little smile that was being hidden away in his neck, but it didn’t stop the surge of fluttery stutters that his heart made when he heard the word. His stomach coiled, but not the same way it did when he saw Peter passed out and bloody at his desk, instead, it coiled and burst all at once into something he couldn’t even begin to describe.
He felt like from the first moment he had stepped into the kitchen all those years ago, the tiny child whose feet didn’t touch the ground from where he sat on a chair and from the moment that little kid’s head turned and flashed those massive hazel irises, to now, all his relationship with Peter had been building up to had been this. This moment, right here, right now, as the cold little nose burrowed deeper into his neck and the soft lips brushed his collarbone as they uttered that word.
Dad.
“No problem kiddo.” His voice sounded slightly more strained then he intended it to be, but he had just been called Dad for the first time in his life, so he gave himself a free pass. “You’ll tell me if you’re still hungry, right?” The miniature nod he felt was answer enough, and he couldn’t be bothered moving to force the kid, his kid, into bed. “Welcome to the world of having a poorly functioning adult as your role model,” he joked as he reached out to pluck a throw from the other side of the couch.
The blanket was thick but incredibly soft and he unfolded it with one arm, so he could keep his other draped over Peter. The teen made a pleased noise in his throat as Tony tucked the edge of the blanket over them both and wedged it under the boy’s chin. “Night kiddie,” Peter mumbled a sleepy reply and Tony stayed silent for at least another ten minutes before he decided to tack onto his goodnight.
“I’m proud of you and I’m glad I make shitty decisions at press events,” he sighed and ran a gentle hand through Peter’s curls. “I’m happy you’re my kid,” he whispered softly after he was certain the boy’s breaths were evened out in sleep.
----
Peter’s recovery had been better than Tony expected. The boy clung more, sought out physical affection on the regular, especially after long days or bad ones. He still hadn’t gotten used to being called Dad, although he wasn’t complaining about the utopian butterflies that flipped his stomach each time he heard it.
He had good days and bad days, Tony had also noticed an increase in how hard the boy was on himself. He found it difficult to directly ask for something, he needed permission before doing anything, including using the bathroom, getting a glass of water, turning on the T.V. It hurt to know that somehow Carter had gotten the habit, of asking permission before almost everything, so drilled into Peter.
He didn’t ask about any of what happened often, but there were a few incidences that made him. Peter was terrified when they walked past alleyways, he always reached out and gripped Tony’s arm until it almost hurt.
“Why do you have to hold me when we walk past alleyways kid?” He always held back and made a conscious effort to steer clear of them when he could.
“M’ just scared of you leaving me in one, sorry.” Tony had assured him it was fine, he would never leave Peter alone in a random alley, but he did softly ask why he was so afraid. “I just… h – he left me in one when he got the food. When he came back, um, all – all those guys were yelling things at me and… h – he just watched and waited till they left on their own.”
Needless to say, Tony began to hold Peter even tighter when they happened to walk past alleyways from then on.
Peter only had one major incident, and Tony had handled it before the boy dissolved into a panic attack.
He was required to make an appearance at a press event, him and Peter had been in the lab all day and the teen gladly trailed along beside him, their sleeves brushing every few steps, up to his room with all his suits.
“Okay, I’m changing in here,” he knocked the doorframe of his walk-in closet, “you sit on the bed and help me decide what tie I’m wearing.” Peter nodded and flopped onto the mattress, twirling a strand of fluff from a pillow around his finger. “I’ll drop you back at the apartment before I leave, and we’ll stop for take-out on the way too.”
“You don’t have to, I have a subway card and –”
“You’re not walking on the streets in the dark when I’m perfectly willing, and actually want to, drop you off myself, with Thai.” Tony opened the closet door and threw a pile of clothes on the floor by the bed, his lab outfit, stained with grease and holes from welding, while he wore a dress shirt and pants, one cufflink in his mouth as he did up the other. “You mind chucking those into the laundry basket by the door kiddo?”
“Yeah, sure,” Peter picked up the pile and stepped towards the bathroom door, but as he walked past Tony halted him with his hand.
“Hold up, nearly forgot…” he dug through the pile in Peter’s arms, “yeah, this guy doesn’t wash.”
The belt snaked out of Peter’s arms as Tony draped it over his own as he did up the final cufflink. “Sweet, thanks squirt.”
Peter didn’t move for the bathroom, and the mechanic looked up curiously. “You good buddy?” The boy blinked twice and took half a step back, his eyes wide and expressive as they stared straight ahead at Tony’s arms. “Seriously, you okay?”
“Sorry,” Peter said almost silently, taking another step back. Tony wrinkled his nose in confusion, “sorry, I’m sorry,” the teen repeated quietly. “I can w – walk… don’t buy me food o – or waste gas,” his eyes were still firmly locked on Tony’s arms, and he looked down to follow the gaze.
“Shit,” he cursed, dropping the belt and toeing it under the bed. “No, nope, it’s all good Pete,” the boy flinched when the buckle hit the floor, and Tony felt mildly sick. “C’mere, c’mon,” Tony opened his arms in invitation but didn’t force the contact, leaving Peter to decide whether he wanted to close the gap for the hug or keep away.
He was almost bowled over by the force at which Peter threw himself into his arms, but the bed hit the back of his knees as he stumbled, and he managed to sit them both down on the edge of the mattress. “Hey bud, I’m sorry about that, my fault,” he shifted Peter’s arms, so they were secured around the base of his neck before tugging him further onto the bed and letting all of his weight relax against his side.
“No, it – that was me, I knew you wouldn’t… I know you’d never do that, ‘cus I trust you, but it’s still… still fresh, y’know?” Peter was only beginning to get over the belt, although the anxiety over the scarring had disappeared along with the last of the faint, pinkish lines over his back.
“Yeah, I know, I’m proud of you. You’re a brave kid,” Peter smiled and rested his head on Tony’s shoulder. “Now, blue or green,” he held up two ties and the teen didn’t hesitate to reach up and tug at the blue one.
“I like blue, it’s nice, or red like the Iron Man suit.”
I don’t like green, not after knowing first-hand how much evil sage green eyes can hide.
“Blue and red, seriously kid who are you, Captain America?” Peter laughed, and Tony smiled as he felt the gleeful vibrations of his chest moving against his own shoulder.
“Come on, I’d make such a better superhero than Cap.”
“You’d probably be a gimmicky hero, you’d have your own catchphrase and everything.” He rubbed Peter’s head and used one hand to drape the blue tie around the collar of his dress shirt, letting the green one fall under the bed beside the belt.
He would have laughed at the symbolism of it, but he had a teen to feed.
---- Four Months Later ----
“Hey Dad, y’know how you got me those adoption papers for my birthday?” He could hear the whirring of DUM-E in the background of the phone call and smiled when he pictured his Dad rummaging around the workshop, waiting for him to finish school.
“Well fifteen’s a big year, ‘course I remember, why?” Peter chewed the end of his pen and unfolded the letter.
“May was working late last night and I forgot to get her to sign this permission slip for that field trip I was telling you about –” Tony groaned loudly overtop of him and he laughed before shushing him. “And I figured now that you’re legally my Dad and everything… maybe you could drop by and sign it for me?”
“Oh, you little shit, wipe that smile off your face,” Tony said, a grin plastered across his face as he began to shove aside the things he was working on and walk to the car. “You’re just trying to get me to sign that permission slip to taunt me, and here I was thinking we agreed not to use our brains for evil.” His smile didn’t fade as he got into the car and started the engine.
“Hey, I never promised that, you did, and come on, just because I’m touring Oscorp doesn’t mean I’m gonna hold it over you.” Peter smiled too, listening to Tony’s hands drumming on the car wheel as he drove. “You want me to meet you in the parking lot or –”
“Nope, you remember what I said that one time, when we went out to lunch?” Peter groaned, mimicking Tony’s, “yeah, get ready for this kiddo, I’d say it’s a fair trade – the devious betrayal of my only son touring Oscorp Industries in exchange for some parental embarrassment. Meet you at front reception, see ya soon!” The line clicked off and Peter shook his head with a smile as he packed up his books and walked out of the library with a skip in his step as he made his way over to reception with the permission slip.
Sure, Oscorp was cool, they were working on some interesting stuff over there, but his Dad was literally Tony Stark, so Peter wasn’t overly-fussed about the whole thing, he was just exited to have a reason to get a parent’s signature instead of a guardian’s for the first time in a long time.
----
“Oh, for fu –”
“Language kiddie,” Tony said from within the suit as he walked into the front office, smirking as the receptionist dropped a paper cup of water on the floor in shock. The suit receded as he walked over to where Peter was leant against a wall, rolling his eyes at the flashy entrance. “How’s life Pete?”
“Been better, but you’re here now,” Tony smiled fondly and ruffled his hair as he continued, “so now it’s definitely worse.”
“You got my sarcasm and I love it,” he said as Peter slid the permission slip onto the desk and the receptionist handed Tony a pen with a slightly confused but mostly awe-struck expression on her face. “This makes me feel like I’m renting you out to some shitty science knock-off,” he complained as he jotted a signature at the bottom of the page and scrawled the date, letting the receptionist file it away as he also signed Peter out.
“Why, because Oscorp is a knockoff Stark Industries?” Tony smiled and nudged Peter’s arm before draping his own arm over the boy’s shoulder, guiding him to the car. “You drove all the way here and then put the suit on just to look cool when you walked in?”
“Of course I did, I’m Tony Stark.” Peter laughed and clambered into the front seat before proceeding to chatter excitedly about what they would be doing in the lab when they got home.
---- One Month Later ----
Peter smiled sheepishly.
Tony was sat on his bed, a red and blue suit sitting beside him as he looked to Peter for answers.
“So, uh… I guess you were right when you said I’d be a gimmicky superhero?” Tony raised an eyebrow at him and folded his arms.
“Gimmicky is one thing, Spider-Man and spandex is another. I’d love an explanation from the beginning, now.” Peter’s sheepish grin fell into a more serious one, but he could tell despite the firm protectiveness being expressed as discipline, his Dad was proud of what Spider-Man stood for.
“Yep, the beginning, I can do that… you know that Oscorp field trip I went on a month ago?” Tony grunted an affirmative unhappily, “yeah so… turns out you were right about that one too…”