Peter knows that this is the last thing that Tony expects to happen: for him to walk into the lab unannounced in the middle of a regular Thursday morning – a school day, no less – with two black eyes and blood pouring down his front from a (probably) broken nose. The surprise on Tony’s face doesn’t give away whether Friday notified him to Peter’s arrival before his appearance in the lab or not. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t matter, but given Peter’s current state, he hopes his mentor at least had a warning.
Through Peter’s pain dulled mind, he vaguely recognises Tony pulling up the data from the spider suit. God, he wished that this was as simple as a robbery apprehension gone wrong (it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Tony has had to patch him up after a particularly gruelling patrol). It didn’t take long, however, for Tony to come to the conclusion that Peter wasn’t wearing the suit when the attack happened, and he quickly turned his full attention to the kid in front of him. ‘Friday,’ he called, ‘scan Parker for all injuries.’
Peter looked like a deer in headlights; he hadn’t moved (other than a slight precarious swaying from being on his feet too long) since he had arrived in the lab, and now that the initial shock of his appearance had worn off, it was starting to alarm Tony. ‘What happened kiddo?’ he asked, slowly moving towards his kid.
‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mr Stark,’ Peter said. It was the last thing that Tony had expected Peter to say. He imagined that Peter would burst into an elaborate story of attack (or maybe crashing into a building – they both still joke about the last time that happened), punctuated with but really, Tony, I’m fine. Instead, he had been provided with such a desolate reply. Immediately, Tony knew that this was no ordinary calamity that Peter had been involved with.
‘It’s no bother.’ He said, keeping his voice as even as possible. He was starting to realise that he would have to play by Peter’s rules if he wanted answers, and that meant that he might have to ignore every instinct he had and say something placating instead of inflammatory. By now, Tony had edged close enough that he was about a foot away from Peter. He knew not to push his luck and attempt to get closer, but every fibre of his being was screaming to reach out and hug the boy in the hopes of wiping away the sickeningly empty expression on Peter’s face. ‘Let’s clean you up.’
Peter nodded and numbly followed his mentor deeper into the lab, eventually stopping to sit on the sofa at the far end of the room while Tony went to fetch a first aid kit.
As Tony was on his way back to Peter, Friday quietly notified him that the scan was complete, and he made a quick stop at one of the monitors to see what he had to treat:
Health Report: Peter Parker
Injuries sustained:
Mild concussion
Bruising around the face and ribs
Small abrasions around the hands and sides, suggestive of self defence
Broken nose
Suspected self-inflicted injuries on the left thigh
At the sight of the last sentence, Tony’s heart seemed to break twice over. He knew he was out of his depth to deal with this, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to abandon his kid with a long list of injuries that needed to be treated, not to mention whatever was going on in his brain. Taking a steadying breath, he walked back over to where Peter was waiting patiently, his hand pinched around his nose in the hopes of stemming the bleeding.
‘Alright, let’s patch you up,’ Tony sighed, unsure of what to see to first.
In the end, Tony worked his way methodically down the list, saving the potential self harm for last, hoping that Peter would have calmed down enough that he could get some information about what had happened out of him before they had to deal with something so sensitive.
Once Tony had reset Peter’s broken nose, he finally broke the silence that had fallen between them. ‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
‘Not really.’ Peter replied immediately. ‘But,’ he sighed, rubbing the less bruised side of his face with the back of his hand, ‘you deserve to know, seeing as you’ve had to deal with all this.’ He gestured vaguely to his bruising which, despite his healing factor, somehow seemed to be looking worse by the minute, not better.
There was a beat of silence, in which Peter fiddled with the edge of the ice pack he was currently holding to his ribs. ‘Take your time,’ Tony prompted, smiling encouragingly, despite not being entirely sure whether he wanted to hear what had happened to his kid.
‘So apparently, gym class is no longer a safe space for me,’ Peter said eventually, his tone light and easy. It quickly became apparent that he had used the time spent building up to this moment to drag a mask of cheery indifference over himself. ‘Despite the fact that I’ve known these people since like – forever – apparently now that I’ve been outed to the entirety of the school, they’re no longer comfortable changing in front of me – as – as if I’m going to – to fucking creep on them or something.’ Peter forced out a humourless laugh.
‘Did no one try to stop it?’
Peter shrugged, wincing when it pulled at the bruising around his ribs. ‘Ned – he ran to get help, but –’ Peter took a steadying breath, ‘by the time the teachers came, it was already over.’ A shadow seemed to pass over Peter’s face. ‘The gym teacher tried to get a look at my nose but – I couldn’t – he was twice my size – could have easily taken me out’ (Tony seemed to get the impression that Peter had forgotten that his super powers made him stronger than most normal men, even gym teachers) ‘so as soon as he got close, I ran. I – I stopped once on the way here,’ Peter blushed.
‘You ran all the way here?’
Peter nodded, no longer able to meet his mentor’s eye.
‘That’s miles kiddo, I’m impressed,’ Tony said, breathing an internal sigh of relief as the kid softened slightly at his praise. ‘Pete, can I ask – with your super powers, you could have easily stood up to a bunch of bullies, why did you let them do this to you?’
How am I meant to explain to Iron Man that I deserved this? Peter thought helplessly. Inexplicable rage seemed to boil in his chest that his mentor would never understand how hard it was to be told that something he couldn’t control was disgusting and wrong. ‘They called me fag, Mr Stark,’ he spat, ignoring Tony’s flinch at his change in tone. ‘Why would I have stopped them? What they said was true, after all.’
Tony shook his head slightly. ‘It’s not true.’
It was clearly the wrong thing to say. As soon as the words left his mouth, Tony knew the mistake he had made. ‘Oh really?’ Peter asked, getting to his feet painfully fast. ‘Are you telling me I’m not gay? Because I gotta tell you, I’ve tried to stop liking boys, but I just can’t. It won’t happen just because you want it, sir.’
The kid was lashing out to protect himself. Tony knew that, but it didn’t stop the hole that seemed to rip through his chest at the sound of Peter calling him sir. The only other time he had ever heard Peter call him that was when he had first come out, and it had felt just as alien then as well. ‘No.’ Tony said firmly. ‘No, Pete, I meant that you don’t deserve to have this happen to you just because you’re gay. I’m not trying to erase that part of you at all.’ He let out a harsh puff of air. Peter’s expression was unreadable, so he just had to hope that he was getting through to him. ‘You shouldn’t be ashamed or – or made to feel like you deserve this because of something that is completely natural. I hope you know that I would never ask you to hide something like this from me.’
All of the fight seemed to rush out of Peter at once, leaving him feeling like an empty shell that was only kept standing by anxiety alone. ‘I know.’ He breathed, flopping back down onto the sofa next to his mentor. ‘Sorry.’
Tony nodded once, and the room lapsed into silence for a while, neither of them knowing what to say next. It took a few moments more than Tony would have liked to notice that Peter was digging his fingers into the top of his left thigh. The implications of this made his stomach feel the same way it did the first time that the Iron Man suit had frozen and he had plummeted back to earth. ‘Pete,’ he ventured cautiously. ‘According to Friday, there’s still one set of injuries that I still need to treat.’
Peter’s hand stilled in its attack on his leg and he found that he could no longer meet Tony’s eye. ‘Tony, I – they’re not – not from the fight earlier.’
‘I know,’ Tony said evenly, relieved that he was back to being Tony, and not Mr Stark or – god forbid – sir.
‘You do?’ Peter was so shocked that he finally made eye contact with the other man, his face full of unmasked shock. It was more than a little unusual for Tony to see Peter with his guard down, especially when they were having a heart to heart, but it was a welcome surprise.
‘Yeah, Fri said that they were probably self inflicted.’
Peter let out a sharp breath as if he had just been punched in the gut, but he nodded anyway. It surprised them both that he wasn’t crying. Certainly, he was close to tears, but even if he had wanted to let them fall, they stayed stubbornly just out of reach.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
‘I was – when I was running here – it was really scary, Tony. I kept reliving what had happened, and my senses were going haywire and I – I – I just needed it to be quiet.’ Peter paused for breath. For some inexplicable reason, he missed the gentle brush of Tony’s fingers from when he was fixing Peter’s injuries, and without thinking, he reached out to ground himself on the sleeve of Tony’s shirt. They both pretended it wasn’t the triumph it really was. ‘There was a chemist store near the edge of the city,’ Peter continued slowly. ‘They didn’t ID me when I brought the razor. God, I must have looked a mess. I was kind of surprised they let me go – and then – yeah. I guess I relapsed. Fuck, it’s been a month, Tony, a month since I last – and then I had to go and fuck it up again.’ He let out another frustrated sigh, slumping down in the seat.
‘Would you let me make sure they’re okay?’ Tony felt like he was stepping on egg shells; one false move and Peter could take back all the trust that he had placed with him.
‘They’re probably scabbed over by now though,’ Peter said, but he rose none the less, slipping his jeans down just far enough that Tony could see the cuts. It made Peter’s stomach roll to see the expression on his mentor’s face.
Sure, it wasn’t the first time that Tony had seen the three ghost white scars across the top of Peter’s thigh. He knew they were there. With the amount of measurements needed for every suit fitting, it was hardly surprising that he knew about them. But every other time, he had thought of them as something that was in the past; something awful that he would never let happen again. This time, however, as well as the spectre of past pain, Tony was faced with seven new cuts.
Just as Peter had predicted, they were starting to knit themselves back together. It didn’t take a genius to know that they would scar almost as much as the three above them. Dried blood still stuck to the faint lines of other past injuries surrounding Peter’s thigh, and Tony was suddenly very aware of the fact that this was something far worse than he had ever let himself imagine. In his head, this was something that Peter had done as a scared kid, not as some violent need for things to be quiet. Tony knew far too much about wanting things to be less big. After all, he wasn’t exactly known for being a saint; maybe his drinking and Peter’s need for pain were more similar than he had first imagined.
It didn’t take long for Tony to will himself into action, reaching first for an alcohol rub, and then for a thick white bandage.
He worked mostly in silence, only speaking when he wanted Peter to move.
Peter was quick to cover the bandage over as soon as Tony said that he was done. ‘Thanks,’ he said, keeping his eyes locked one of the sofa cushions.
‘Any time.’
‘I’m sorry, Tony. Really – you shouldn’t have had to see that. It was just a slip. I’m – I’m back on track now. It won’t happen again.’
Tony gave a short nod. ‘I’m glad you think that,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘But recovery isn’t always linear. I’m sure you’ve seen in the press all the times that I started drinking again after I gave it up. This is a similar thing. It’s – it’s okay to have slip ups, as long as you’re always trying to make this relapse be your last. Would you do me a favour? Next time you feel like this, call me. I’ll pick you up – any time – and we can get coffee and talk instead, yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ Peter agreed. He couldn’t quite express how much Tony’s offer meant to him. ‘I don’t want to go back to school today.’ He blurted, not entirely sure where the thought had suddenly come from, but knowing it was true all the same.
Tony’s hands stilled in their task of packing up the first aid kit. ‘Alright,’ he said eventually ‘I’ll phone the school and May. You can stay here as long as you like.’
The rest of the morning was spent watching movies and firmly avoiding anything remotely sad. They had to pause half way through Big Eden so that Peter could speak to May on the phone and confirm that he was fine; he also had far too many texts from Ned and MJ making sure that he was safe. Tony had taken this time to have an irate conversation with the school about its anti-bullying policies, much to Peter’s embarrassment and relief. Something about the way that his friends and family gathered round him to offer support eased the weight in Peter’s chest, and he was suddenly unspeakably grateful to them for trying to help him in any way they could.