drown

Tony was worried. Or maybe concerned was a better word; to be worried, he would have to know why his stomach was currently a pit of anxiety. Worry would mean that he could try to fix whatever was wrong. As it was, it just felt like the rug was about to be pulled out from under him. It was just a dull ache in the back of his mind that seemed to say oh hey, in a minute, everything you thought you understood will disappear.

It was not a fun feeling.

What made everything so much worse, however, was that this feeling – this aching, scraping fear in his bones – all centred on Peter Parker.

To date, Peter was the best thing that had happened to Tony, and he was not about to screw that up. The decision was easy: he needed to find out what was wrong with his kid.

Peter had been acting odd for weeks – just longer than Tony had been concerned. It had started with him zoning out in the lab. That hadn’t been too bad – after all, they were working on some pretty heavy maths. It was only understandable that he needed to concentrate. And besides, Tony had argued at the time, Peter still spoke a mile a minute, jumping from old film references to memes in the same breath. He was still Peter.

Tony doesn’t know when that started to slip; the process was too slow.

But one day, he realised that Peter hadn’t answered any of his questions with more than a one syllable answer all day (an impressive feat given that Happy had dropped him off at the compound at 9 am, and it was now 4:23 pm).

‘Is something bothering you buddy?’ He had asked casually, trying to keep his voice even.

Peter had flinched, tugging the cuffs of his sleeves down over the ends of his fingers. ‘What – no! I’m just – school work is a bitch,’ he had finished lamely.

‘Don’t swear, kid.’

They had come up with a plan: Tony would help Peter with his science homework, ease the pressure, he had suggested.

But it wasn’t enough. Happy had phoned Tony late one night after dropping the boy home from one of their all day lab sessions (now with a built in break to go through Peter’s homework).

I’m worried about Parker, he had said, cutting straight to the chase. Tony’s stomach still did a backflip every time he thought of Happy saying that. It must have been bad for him to mention it. For the past month or so he hasn’t said a word to me – or rather, he says ‘hi, H’ as he gets in the car and ‘thanks’ when he leaves it – because he’s a polite kid and all – but the drive is creepily quiet, Tony. He just curls up with his headphones in and acts like the world outside isn’t there.

Tony was going out of his mind – there was a reason he never had kids. He didn’t do well when confronted with stresses. Especially not after Afghanistan. He didn’t do well with emotions either. Howard was to blame for that.

But this couldn’t be ignored. Tony knew first-hand the damage that could be done when a problem was bottled up for too long.

To give Peter his credit, he tried to act normal. Around Ned and MJ it was somewhat bearable. After all, they already knew the big secret – Ned never could hide anything from MJ, and ultimately, he hadn’t worried when she had asked why Peter hadn’t told her himself that he’d made out with their best friend. Her expression had been soft when she had said it, as if she knew exactly why Peter hadn’t told her (she did). And when Peter had joked that Ned just loves being the one to spill the gossip, she hadn’t pressed him for the truth.

The truth was complicated.

Peter had felt the sickening weight of shame pooling in his gut from an early age.

He remembers the boy from the flat below him. They were both seven. Peter had wanted to be his best friend; wanted to always be near him even though he couldn’t quite tell why. And then one day it had hit him. He wanted to kiss the boy. Immediately, he knew it wasn’t something he could ever say out loud. Peter may have been a naïve and innocent child, but he knew that there were some things that the older boys would beat him up for.

That was the last day he hung out with the boy in his block. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the kid – every time it just brought an overwhelming sense of wrongness to him.

And he didn’t want to let Aunt May and Uncle Ben down.

So Peter got good at hiding. He would pretend to like the girls that everyone crushed on. Ultimately, it was easy (if not a little stomach-turning) to see the traits that society would find conventionally attractive.

Depression had crept in not long after that, leaving a network of rosy pink scars in its wake.

On the year anniversary of Uncle Ben’s death, Ned had kissed Peter – as an experiment, Ned had said – and every ugly lie that he had ever told himself about not being gay crumbled to dust on his (probably straight) best friend’s lips.

He knew that Ned wasn’t doing it to be mean; they had just been having a regular Friday night when Ned had told him he was curious what kissing a guy would be like. Peter had agreed, pretending that he hadn’t had a thousand dreams just like that (kissing strangers, kissing that cute boy in the year above, kissing Ned).

After, Ned had laughed, his hand still resting on the back of Peter’s neck. Nope, he had said. His face was so close to Peter’s that he could feel the breeze of the words ghost over his still slightly parted lips. I’m definitely straight. What about you?

There had been a pause the length of several heartbeats. Long enough for Peter to pull away, climb off the bed, and reach the bedroom door. But Peter could never lie to Ned. I – I’m not – I think I –

Peter had run. He had turned his phone off and not turned it back on until the following Monday, where he was bombarded with apologetic texts from Ned and concerned ones from MJ.

That Saturday had been the first day that Tony had started to get concerned about him.

Three months had passed since then, and Peter was still acting as if there could be a monster around every corner.

On days like today, he was wild and angry. His hands shook and he let his anxiety get the better of him. If the far too meticulous rows of scaring on the soft inside of his arms were anything to go by, things were getting worse day by day.

Peter and Tony had been working in the lab for an hour before anything happened. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that today was one of the days that they worked in silence; Peter was too numb to laugh at Tony’s jokes today. It seemed he always was these days.

The equation Peter was working on for his chemistry homework just didn’t want to balance. He let out a frustrated sigh, shoving at his calculator when it yet again failed to give him the right answer.

‘You okay there squirt?’ Tony asked mildly.

‘Fine.’ Peter snapped. ‘Chemistry just fucking sucks.’

‘Okay,’ Tony responded, drawing out the word and raising his hands in mock surrender. ‘You sure that’s all that’s going on here?’

‘Yes.’ Peter huffed, scribbling something out in his note book. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘You’ve just been a little off recently.’ It was the understatement of the year. Tony had no idea where the chatterbox from a few months ago had gone, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

Oh yeah, sorry Mr Stark, I totally forgot to tell you, I kissed my straight best friend and now I can’t ignore the fact that I’m gay, but too ashamed to tell anyone. Surprise! Peter let out another heavy breath. And while we’re at it, the amount of stress that I’m under means that it’s getting harder to hide my bad days from you. Please don’t decide you want to stop meeting with me.

Tony made his way to the opposite side of the desk, leaning his forearms on the table in the hopes of meeting his kid’s eye. ‘You need some help?’ It was a loaded question and they both knew it.

The anger that had made itself at home in Peter’s belly suddenly coiled, and he couldn’t stand Tony’s gentle coaxing any longer. ‘No.’ He said, batting the textbook he had been working from so hard that it flew off the desk, landing face down and crumpled on the floor.

Tony raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘What’d that book ever do to you?’

‘It has hard questions in it,’ Peter snapped, grinding the lead of his pencil in a dark spot on the margin of his page. Somewhere deep under his skin, he could feel the sluggish call for a razor blade, and the thought suddenly burnt away the rage in Peter’s bones, leaving only listlessness. ‘I’m sorry Mr Stark. I shouldn’t have got mad.’ He murmured, his body curling in on itself.

‘That’s alright,’ Tony said, not really knowing how to treat the situation. ‘If you want to talk about what’s been bothering you, I’m right here.’ He wrapped his knuckles twice on the desk as if to say good talk, before moving back to his own work station.

It was less than five minutes later when Peter piped up again. ‘Mr Stark, I think I do need to talk.’ He ventured carefully.

Tony hummed, his hands stilling from the email he had been writing.

‘I – see, the thing is – I think – or rather – please don’t hate me – I think I might be gay.’ Peter’s voice seemed to get quieter with each word he spoke until the last sentence was barely audible to Tony. He’s hedging his bets. “Think” offers the slim possibility of crawling back into the closet if his mentor reacts badly; he can just say he thought wrong (it would hurt, but Peter would rather continue to keep the spider suit than be hated for something he has no control over).

‘Okay,’ Tony says lightly. ‘What makes you think that?’ He tried to keep his voice in the realm of genuine curiosity and not let it fall over into anything stern – the last thing his kid needed was to feel unsafe and he’s all too aware of the fact that Peter has remained hunched over his chem homework this entire time. Even from a distance it is obvious that Peter’s body is tense; he looked ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

‘I kissed Ned.’ He blurts, and it’s certainly not what Tony was expecting. ‘He’s not – but I – and I know that makes me a shitty friend but – he said it would be fun. An – an experiment. And you know me, I love science and – and experiments ‘n’ stuff.’ Peter stumbled out, before pausing for breath. However, he was speaking again faster than Tony could think of anything to say to make him relax, finally back to his oversharing self (but somehow, this time it just left them both feeling empty, not relieved). ‘I mean, I knew before then – or at least using hindsight, I was very gay before then, but I didn’t –  and I was scared as shit so I – but dating girls never felt right – the – keeping things hidden made my anxiety worse, which made my depression even more of a bitch than usual. After – after Ned kissed me, I couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t happening anymore. I’m sorry Mr Stark, please – please don’t be mad.’

‘Alright,’ Tony says in what he hopes is a soothing yet authoritative voice. ‘First off: I would never, ever be mad at you for something out of your control, okay Parker, so jot that down. And second off, you are so fucking brave Pete, thank you for trusting me with this.’

When Tony finally thinks it is safe to meet Peter’s eye, he could clearly see just how close to tears he was. Hell, Tony’s not that far from tears himself, given the emotion in what spider man just told him. And okay, he wasn’t planning on doing this now, but Peter had started to tear at his throat with nervous fingers and blunt nails as if he had long since run out of air (Tony knows it’s just another Parker Quirk^TM that seems to come about when he’s anxious), but he sure as hell isn’t about to let that continue. Tony had vowed that the boy would always feel safe with him, and by the looks of things, that isn’t the case right now. ‘Peter, I know this is scary. I know that. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I can help you with that. I’m – I’m bi, Pete.’

All movement in the lab stills, and Tony suddenly second guesses his decision – despite how many times he’s done it, coming out still scares him shitless. ‘No fucking way, man!’ Peter shouts, his face cracking into an almost genuine smile for the first time in what has got to be four months at least. ‘Iron Man – the man I have looked up to since I was about 3 – is queer?’ Peter leans back in his chair, his hands threaded through his hair in disbelief. ‘I can’t tell you how much it means to me that someone as cool as you is a little bit like me, Mr Stark.’ Peter gushes, and Tony feels more than a bit bad that he isn’t out to the public, if only to have made Peter feel better about himself sooner.

He knows that’s not how this works, but it doesn’t stop the thought nagging at him. ‘My media team won’t let me come out publicly,’ he says weakly anyway. ‘They say it would be bad publicity or something.’ It’s not the main reason he hasn’t told everyone, (Howard messed him up good and proper as a kid, and Tony is more than happy to lay the blame for his fear of coming out on his father) but accusing his employees sure is easier than facing all the shit he’s been through over the years.

‘That’s bullshit.’ Peter says, the venom back in his voice, and Tony is suddenly very aware that this is probably the first time Peter has been so genuine with him for a very long time.

But before the thought has time to germinate properly, Peter is sobbing. Thick heavy sobs that Tony understands come from years of hiding. Tony stares in shock. Peter has his head buried in his hands and his knees drawn up to his chest; it certainly doesn’t look comfortable. But the main thing that worries Tony is the way that Peter’s breaths sound like they physically hurt.

He’s letting out short gasps that wrack his whole body, leaving him shivering.

It suddenly hits Tony that Peter is just a fifteen year old kid; he can’t even drive yet. He’s never looked younger in Tony’s eyes. ‘Hey,’ he tries, carefully taking hold of one of Peter’s wrists and pulling his hand away from his face. ‘I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath okay? With me: in – and out. Good. Again.’

Tony continues coaching Peter for the next seven and a half minutes (he definitely doesn’t ask Friday to check the exact time as soon as the kid leaves that night). Despite only being able to see half of Peter’s face, he is more than a little shocked at the amount of pain he sees reflected in it. The knowledge that Peter managed to hide this much from him is disturbing, and certainly something he won’t forget in a hurry.

Eventually, however, Peter’s breathing evens out enough for them to talk properly again. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Stark, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.’

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, Pete, I want to help.’ Tony pauses, glancing away to give Peter some breathing space. ‘What you just had was a panic attack,’ he ventures carefully.

‘I know.’

That was what Tony had been afraid of. How long has he been suffering with this on his own? His mind screams. ‘You’ve had one before?’

Peter nods, purposely keeping his eyes away from Tony.

‘Do you – do you want to talk about it?’

No, Peter thinks, despite the fact that he’s already opening his mouth to speak. ‘I’ve been – I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety for like two years before I met you,’ he begins, cursing the fact that Tony makes him feel safe enough to begin his story at all. ‘I took Xanax and stuff for a while – not that it really matters anymore because the spider bite made my metabolism way high. It wipes out any of the drugs I’m prescribed within a couple of minutes. So yeah – I get panic attacks sometimes. It’s not – it could be worse, Mr Stark. Really, I’m fine.’

It seemed that Peter was full of surprises today, and it unsettled Tony to no end. ‘Does May know?’

A bitter smile flashed briefly across Peter’s face. ‘Nah,’ he sighed. ‘She – uh – she actually thinks I’m fully recovered.’

Tony raised an eyebrow. ‘That seems – healthy. Why haven’t you told her?’

‘Well, first off, because my psychiatrist was getting suspicious as to why the drugs weren’t doing their jobs, so I needed to end therapy before they did any tests and found out about this,’ Peter gestured to where the spider suit was draped over the back of a chair. ‘And also because – well – I guess that my issues are sort of tied up with my sexuality – like, not in the sense that I’m depressed because I’m gay. More – more in the sense that growing up having to constantly be aware of what I was saying and what I was thinking really wasn’t a great environment for my mental health I guess.’

Tony nodded, frowning. He really hadn’t expected Peter to be so self-aware or articulate, but he knew from experience that what his kid said made total sense, even if he hadn’t considered it before now. ‘So you’re not out to May?’

‘Nope,’ Peter said, popping the p. ‘And I’d be really grateful if you didn’t tell anyone. Literally Ned and MJ are the only other people who know, and that’s just because of the whole making out with Ned fiasco.’

‘And they’re –?’ Tony asked, not really sure how to finish the sentence without feeling like he was throwing around some heavy accusations.

‘They’re supportive,’ Peter finishes for him, a small smile on his face.

‘Good.’ Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely relieved that Peter had friends to fight his corner with him – he knew first-hand how difficult it could be to feel both afraid and isolated. ‘So,’ he ventured, trying desperately to lighten the mood, ‘do you like anyone?’

Peter snorted, glancing quickly at his mentor. ‘No one you’re gonna know about. This isn’t some 12 year old’s sleep over Mr Stark.’

The response was so familiar, and so very Peter that Tony’s surprised laugh left his lips before he could stop it. ‘Ouch,’ Tony chuckled, ‘that was brutal, Pete.’

Despite the joking tone, Peter shuffled uncomfortably, immediately second guessing his gentle mocking. It made the crawl under his skin ten times worse than it already had been. ‘We both know you would use government files to stalk them if I gave you a name.’ He was aiming for a teasing tone, but it ended up just sounding tired and flat.

Tony’s smile fell a fraction. ‘I mean yeah, but just look what happened with Liz.’ As soon as Tony said it, he wished he should take it back.

Bringing up an ex-girlfriend who’s dad almost killed spider man right after Peter had come out to him? Not a good move, Stark. Tony scalded himself.

‘Yeah, well,’ Peter shrugged, rising from his chair. ‘Anyway, Mr Stark, it’s getting late, and May really will be expecting me home soon –’ Peter cleared his throat; his lungs felt like they were starting to fill with dust and feeling like he was struggling against the all too real weight of concrete and iron pressing down on top of him. Anything that reminded Peter of homecoming should be illegal, he decided. ‘Good talk though! See you tomorrow Tony!’

Peter had left before Tony could even reply, deserting him with the bitter taste of unsaid apologies burning on his tongue. He would have to get his shit together before Peter came to finish working on the suit and pick up his homework the next morning.