Chapter 1
Peter hated asking for help. Call him crazy, but when you’re unceremoniously dumped into the care of two people who probably never wanted kids in the first place, you start to feel like you’ve already used up a life time supply of other people’s comfort. And sure, Aunt May and Uncle Ben were always there for him, telling him they loved him, hugging him when they could tell he was having a particularly bad day, and making sure he was always fed and well cared for, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear the late night whispers about finances, the bags under their eyes from working late, or the voicemails left by the landlord yelling about rent. So Peter figured he didn’t need to bother anyone when Flash pushed him in the hallway, or his shoes were a little too tight, or he had a nightmare about his parents. Those were small things, things Peter could handle on his own.
Logically, he knew this whole philosophy was ridiculous. He knew that there were people in his life that would want to know about his problems, who would happily give him guidance. He himself loved helping others, after all. For goodness sake he was Spiderman, saving people was his job!
Some habits don’t die easy though, so when he got a call from the hospital telling him that May was in a car accident and that they were so sorry but they couldn’t save her, he didn’t ask for help. Instead, he told the hospital he had a relative to stay with and went home, accepting his fate. In some ways he always knew his life was heading here: laying in his bed in an empty apartment, utterly and completely alone.
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Tony was worried.
After the Vulture fiasco, Tony took it upon himself to, as he put it to Peter, “make sure you don’t die in a ditch somewhere and make me face the wrath of Aunt Hottie.” Sure, he was proud of the kid too, but he didn’t need Spiderboy to know he had gone all soft. Regardless of the cause, however, he started inviting Peter to stay at the compound certain weekends, and with this newfound mentoring gig came texts. A lot of them. All the time. Gone were the days of Happy forwarding voicemails and here to stay was an endless barrage of messages detailing everything he did on patrol, whether it be stopping armored robbers or helping an old lady cross the street.
So to say that Tony was concerned when he hadn’t heard from the boy in two days was an understatement. He was full on terrified. He proactively sent a text to him that morning, but hearing no response he made a decision. Reacting purely on gut-instinct he got up and, ignoring the angry protests, left his meeting. Sure he would face the consequences tomorrow, but right now they didn’t matter.
His kid needed him.
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The first time Peter woke up it was because of the ringing. The sound was earsplitting, cutting through the silence like a knife, jolting him out of his restless sleep. Disoriented, he sat up and looked around the room, desperately trying to find the source of his pain. Discovering it was only the phone he laid back down, figuring the noise would stop soon. Sure enough, the sound was soon replaced with a voicemail that started playing automatically.
“Listen this is getting ridiculous, rent was due at 9am this can’t keep happening!” It was the landlord, Peter had heard this message a thousand times before. “I was serious the last time when I said that was it. Either you give me the check by 6pm tomorrow night or I’m evicting you.”
Evicted. He had never heard that. It would be alright though, May—
And that was when he remembered. Pain suddenly and violently rolled over him in waves, the weight threatening to drown him. Unlike the phone he knew this agony was here to stay. This cutting wasn’t breaking the silence, it was breaking him.
Uncertain about what he should do and lacking the energy to do anything anyway he stayed in his bed. He did get up a couple of times to use the bathroom and he considered getting something to eat from the kitchen but decided against it. Food didn’t really interest him anymore, nothing did. Instead, he stumbled back to his bed and tried his best to remain asleep, seeing as it was the only place where he could forget.
He was once again awoken, this time by a loud banging on his apartment door. Figuring it was his landlord following through on the promise of eviction, he trudged to the door and opened it a crack, only to find himself in the presence of a very frazzled and very disheveled looking Tony Stark.
“Where the hell have you been, kid?” He asked, frustrated, but with an air of concern to his voice.
“I … um … I had to take a few days off … to study.” Peter tried to answer. He didn’t want Mr. Stark to worry, but the mere act of talking caused tears to well up in his eyes.
“Can I come in?”
Peter hesitated but opened the door wide enough to let the other man in and went to go sit on the couch. Tony shuffled in behind him, closing the door softly and joining the boy on the sofa. There were a couple moments of awkward silence before he spoke again.
“Pete, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen, what happened? Where’s May?”
Peter knew Mr. Stark was a busy man. He knew he certainly had better things to do than driving all the way to Queens just to check up on a teenager that wasn’t even related to him. But Peter was also struggling to stay afloat, desperate for someone to throw him a life line. So when Tony did, the dam broke.
Immediately Peter could feel himself being wrapped in Tony’s arms, the other man desperate to keep the teen’s tears at bay. Only then, when he could feel the safety of Mr. Stark’s embrace, when he knew there was someone there trying to get him fresh air, did he finally confess.
“S-She’s d-dead.”
Tony didn’t ask any questions. Later, when Peter was safely asleep at the compound he would call the hospital for details and his lawyers for guardianship, but right now all he did was hold Peter a little tighter, trying his best to keep the rough tides away.
Peter didn’t like asking for help, but it felt damn good when he got it.