Happy Midnight update!! It's 12am my time and just felt like publishing a chapter :) we all need a bit of irondad hurt-comfort right before bed <3 Hope you enjoy, and thank you all so much for the support!
TW // anxiety and mild intrusive thoughts!!
Have fun and stay safe🖤🤎❤️️🧡💛💚💙💜
---
Anxiety is a vicious beast. It takes the smallest things, a misplaced look, a different word, a lack of context, and makes a mountain out of a molehill. Suddenly that tone of voice isn't distraction, it's disinterest. That quick sign-off isn't being busy, it's not caring. That frustration aimed at something else is aimed at you and your mind buzzes with a million different scenarios. Did you say something wrong? Should you have listened better? Should you have been better? And you want to take everything back. But you can't. Neither can Peter. He should have just listened.
"Don't engage, Parker."
He should have heeded the warning.
"Peter, I said do not engage!"
But he didn't.
"I said stop!"
And now he's sat in his room, head in his hands, heart hammering in his chest, wondering if Tony will ever want to talk to him again. He knows it's an irrational thought, but it isn't enough to quell the copious amounts of anxiety sprawling through his stomach. He hates that feeling. The same kind of feeling he'd enjoy while falling a bit longer during a swing, but this one wraps its overwhelming clutches around his lungs and squeezes without remorse. And now the thoughts won't stop.
He's not gonna want me to come to the workshop tomorrow. I screwed up. He didn't just get mad, he got livid. I let him down. He just wanted to do what was best for me, make sure I was okay, and I ignored him. I should've taken his word for it. I'm so stupid. He squeezes his eyes shut, painfully gripping his hair as tears slip out and drip onto his knees, soaking into the fabric. He can't focus on anything. Every time his phone buzzes, he looks up only to be disappointed that it isn't Tony. It's driving him insane, and he's practically letting it. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his chin atop them.
He's not even mad about what happened, bumps and bruises he could take all day long, but the way Tony was short with him is what hurt. Tony only spoke if he had to.
"Get cleaned up."
No elaboration, no emotion, no nothing.
"Happy's taking you home."
Distancing himself as much as possible.
"G'night."
And Peter could tell he was trying not to lose it. He could take the anger, he wanted that anger, but all he got was exasperation. He let Tony down. He expected more. He expected better. Instead, he got Peter. He finds himself zoning out a few times, rerunning the situation through his head and even conjuring up possible what-if scenarios. Of arguments where Tony says things that Peter knows he would never say, but he thinks of them all the same.
"I can't do this anymore."
Disappointment.
"Get out."
Rejection.
"Don't bother coming back."
Isolation.
And all because he didn't listen.
Somewhere amidst the overwhelming thoughts, the sun starts to rise. There are dark rings around his half-lidded eyes, a flushed face, and a pit in his stomach. He looks to his phone against his better judgement...and he wishes he hadn't. No messages from Tony, but could he blame him? God, he just wants to curl up in a ball and cry. May's out doing a recertification for a majority of the day, so technically he could. He wishes he had the energy to move. Fresh tears drop off his nose.
"This sucks," he whispers to himself, curling tightly into the sheets. This is on me. I dug my own grave. Now I have to lie in it. And so he does, crying himself to sleep with thoughts of letting down his mentor again.
The next time he wakes isn't to May's soft voice, but a harsh puzzling from his nightstand. Without bothering to check the screen, he blindly reaches for the phone and holds it to his exposed ear.
"Hello?" he answers groggily, his eyes still closed.
"Why do you sound half asleep?" the voice questions, and it takes him a few seconds to realize who it belongs to.
"Mr. Stark?" Why's he calling? I thought he was mad. Did something happen? His first thoughts land on a possible Avenger's level threat, but Tony's own mind goes in a completely different direction.
"I swear, if you're passed out in an alley again-"
"What? No! I'm in bed," Peter quickly defends, rolling onto his back and rubbing his tired eyes with his free hand.
"...It's 4...pm." Tony feels the need to slowly inform the kid. When silence is all that greets him, he lets out an exasperated sigh. "You were supposed to be here over forty-five minutes ago. What's the holdup and how many stitches does it need?" Peter holds back a groan and drapes an arm over his face.
"Zero, I'm not even in the suit." If he had been more awake, he might've been more aware about how that doesn't exactly sound like a reassuring thing.
"On what earth do you think it's okay to go patrolling without a suit?!" Tony demands, a mix of panic and fear fueling his movements as Peter suddenly hears clanging in the background.
"No- that's not-" This time, Peter does groan. "Mr. Stark, I'm not in the suit and I'm not hurt, okay? I just took a nap. That's it," he explains through sleep-ridden mumbles. The noises halt and for a few moments, there's just silence.
"Promise?" It's an odd request, especially coming from someone who doesn't believe in the art of pinky promises, but Peter isn't one to deny such a thing.
"Promise. Trust me, I learned my lesson the hard way about lying to you." He pulls the covers closer as a wave of involuntary shivers pass over him at the thought of the ferry incident. That's not something he likes to relive. Apparently neither does Tony, because the conversation falls silent again. Peter almost falls back asleep before Tony picks the discussion back up.
"So then," he starts off, "why aren't you here? The pizza's getting cold. I never thought you'd be someone to torture me by making me eat entire pizza by myself." There's a hint of humor and something else that Peter can't quite place.
"Oh, I uh, I thought that...you wouldn't want me there after..." he answers honestly, saying just enough for Tony to get the gist. The man rubs a stressed hand down his face and internally curses.
"I'll pick you up in five," is all he says in response, causing Peter to awkwardly clear his throat.
"Okay." And just like that, the call is ended. For a few seconds, his brain plays catch-up, not quite knowing what to do with the sudden bombardment of information. All he really knows is that he has to get up, get dressed, and face Tony's disappointment. It's not something he planned for, but nothing really phases him anymore.
So he does exactly that: musters the energy to get up, throws on some miscellaneous clothes, and makes his way to the ground floor. By the time he leaves the apartment building, an Audi with tinted windows is parked out front. With a sigh of resignation, he opens the door and slides inside, but doesn't look up. He can feel Tony's eyes on him and the car doesn't move, so he knows Tony has every intention of hashing it out right here.
"How are your..." Tony gestures to his own face and, to be honest, Peter forgot the amount of scrapes he had adorning his face. Peter absentmindedly touches one of the cuts on his cheek, but finds that it doesn't hurt.
"Healing," Peter answers. Silence consumes them once again. His leg bounces, the rhythmic sound of his shoe against the rubber mat being the only sound between them. Tony clears his throat.
"Do you wanna start the impromptu sharing session, or should I? 'Cause I got the pizza as a 'sorry for losing my cool' and I was expecting a, I don't know, a 'sorry for putting myself in mortal peril' cheesecake from you." His tone is upbeat, a contrast to the serious, glossed-over topics from yesterday's events. The mild jokes are met with stale air and uncomfortable stillness. Tony's usual coping mechanism doesn't seem to be working. Instead, they have the opposite effect, and he notices all too late that Peter had tears running down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry..." Peter apologizes for what seems like the millionth time, but it still doesn't feel like enough. He swiftly wipes the tears away with resentment and grips his jeans in an attempt to stay in control.
"Bud," Tony turns in his seat to fully face him, "you've already apologized more times than either of us can count." His tone is soft, but it doesn't alleviate the crushing pressure of guilt in Peter's chest. It's not enough, he thinks, but stays quiet. When the silence stretches, he hears Tony take a slow breath. "We both said our sorries, right?" Without looking up, Peter reluctantly nods with a sniff.
"I, I scared you and I didn't mean to but I couldn't just, just let that school bus have a head-on collision with that thing so..." so I took the hit instead, hangs in the stale, car air. His head is starting to pound from the ungodly concoction of anxiety, crying, and sleep deprivation.
"I understand why you did it. I don't want you to go around getting hit by buses and I expect you to think of other, less contusion-inducing solutions in the future...but I understand," Tony empathizes. It's hard to admit, but it would be a bit hypocritical if he didn't, considering he once flew a nuke through a wormhole. But this is Peter, a sixteen year old kid with his whole life ahead of him, not one he wants to see get pummeled to death. "And it scares me because," he awkwardly sighs and looks anywhere else, "because I care. And that's, that's scary in itself. Now add that to seeing you go skidding into the road? Instant heart attack recipe, just add Peter." The teen subconsciously chews at his cheek as his leg bounces. His mentor usually doesn't do the whole sharing thing, and now that he has, Peter feels obligated to as well.
"I, uh, I thought you wouldn't want me at the workshop," he mutters, his hands fiddling with a loose string. "I didn't wanna make you more upset and I couldn't make myself text you and there were a lot of...not nice thoughts." The admission is difficult to get through, and he doesn't know if it makes any sense, but he got it out. That's the first step. Tony is all too familiar with intrusive, negative thoughts telling you things that aren't true, he's just not used to being on this end.
"Don't...Don't ever let my inability to communicate discourage you," Tony says with as much honestly as he can cram into his voice. Peter still refuses to look up, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking. He doesn't know if it's the anxiety or adrenaline or both, but overall it just feels like weakness. "Hey, eyes up, kiddo." The soft tone only makes him close his eyes as a rogue sob escapes. He brings up one of his shaking hands to his face to wipe away the new tears, but a gentle thumb beats him to it. This time, Peter does look up.
Warm, brown eyes stare back at him, the corners crinkled by a soft yet pained smile. He feels like he doesn't deserve that much love in a single glance.
"I have this bad habit," Tony quietly continues, "where I distance myself from the people I care about. When I get worried, my fight-or-flight kicks in. I think, 'what else could I possibly do besides screw things up?' So I panic. And I run. And I avoid because I don't want to screw you up more than I already have." His eyes glisten with bushes tears, mirroring the ones dripping from Peter's chin. "I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you that space, but turns out I only did that 'cause I was scared. I'm sorry, Peter. I shouldn't've run from it. That's on me." The words echo too close to the night of the ferry, but they have a different meaning now. There's no accusations being thrown from either end, only sincerity and apologies. The back of Peter's throat aches, knowing his voice will crack as soon as he tries to speak, and he hasn't broken eye contact once.
"It's on me too," he shares the weight, voice heavy with emotion. "I didn't think, I just acted and, and I'd rather it be me than those kids." He swallows thickly, staring back into his lap like avoidance will magically solve all his problems. "I forget that people hurt when I get hurt, 'cause I can take it but people like you and May and Ned get worried and it's...I forget." Awaiting the long-winded speech of responsibility and self-preservation, he nervously picks at the seam of his shirt.
Instead of the spiel he's already been exposed to before, Tony reaches over the divider and pulls Peter's head to his shoulder. The inconvenience of the car doesn't keep Tony from wrapping the kid in safe, reassuring arms with a hand pressed to the back of his head as Peter finally lets go of the stress and guilt he's harbored. Peter hugs back with hands gripping Tony's sleeves and face nestled into the jacket soaking up his pain. Gentle fingertips glide up and down Peter's spine as quiet shushes envelope the small space around them. It feels like his entire body trembles accompanying the release of heartbreak and the sense of rejection he felt all night. The warmth serves to soothe his aching head and his eyes burn against closed lids. He could fall asleep right there in Tony's arms.
"It's gonna be okay, kid. We'll work through it like we always do," Tony softly assures with just as much harrowed emotion lining his voice. He wants nothing more than to be able to guide them over to a couch or sit them down on a bed, but the car limits his comforting to what he can only do in the present. And for now, that means holding his kid as securely as he can while Peter allows himself to simply feel.
"Sometimes being a superhero sucks," Peter's honest, muffled voice fills his own ears. These are the moments where he doesn't realize he needs a hug until he's given one, and suddenly the unbridled pressure in his chest begins to lessen.
"Yeah," Tony agrees with a sigh. "Yeah, it does. But you're the best one yet." He says the words without thinking, but he doesn't take them back. They're the truth and he doesn't regret them for a second. Hearing that from his hero means more than Peter could ever put into words. It starts the waterworks all over again and he swears he's never felt so much all at once. He's not even sure if he's processing it all, but it sure as hell feels relieving to have the comfort amongst it all. After a few more minutes, he slowly pulls away with a weak smile.
"Do you still want that cheesecake?" Peter offers with a light chuckle, wiping away the remaining tears. Tony lifts a hand to wipe one of the tears, but rests it on the kid's cheek instead.
"We'll make a stop on the way back to the Tower," he promises, giving one last smile before getting settled into his own seat. Peter's smile broadens, grateful that they could work everything out despite both of their fears. As he buckles himself up, Tony surprises him again. "I'm proud of you, by the way. I'm proud of what you did...and who you are. I'm proud of you, Peter." The teen stares at him in a mixture of shock and admiration and love. Those words, that he can't remember hearing from his dad and wishes he could hear again from Ben, have come from Tony. They mean more to him than Tony realizes...and he means more to Tony than either of them dare to admit.
---
Thank you for reading!🖤🤎❤️️🧡💛💚💙💜
If you'd like to keep up to date on upcoming fics and get sneak peeks, feel free to follow one of my accounts!
Instagram: kevy_fanfics
Tumblr: kevyfanfics
Twitter: Kevy_Fanfics