I hope you guys enjoy this one-shot and thank you for being patient with the sporadic update schedule! College is a crazy time, let me tell you! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.
**TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE/NEGLECT.**
NEW 2020 EDIT: THIS IS NOT STARKER.
__________
The thing is, David hadn't meant to hit Peter that hard.
At least, that's what the boy tells himself as he presses an ice patch to his eye, the ring of black and blue bruises standing out against his abnormally pale skin.
Normally, the man hits him in places that aren't easily noticeable. Peter's side, his upper arms, his back.
This time, however, the hit came too fast, too hard and not aimed correctly, David struck blind by his misplaced rage. His fist had smacked against Peter's face and the boy had cried out, shoving the man too hard and sending him stumbling into the cabinets.
That's when Peter had run to the bathroom. He stands there now, staring at his face with a mix of dread and self-loathing.
His eyes are sad when he looks in the mirror.
He tries not to look for too long anymore.
Peter had just been in his way, that's all. He had been standing too close to the Doctor, or what ever the fuck his Aunt's boyfriend did for a job and had gotten in the way and the man had gotten mad and had swung at him and–
Nope. Not going down that road again.
Walking back into his room, the teenager slips on his jacket, trying not to wince as his sore body protests.
David hadn't been in Peter's life for that long. A few weeks at most.
3 weeks. 3 weeks and 2 days and 6 hours.
But it's not like Peter's counting or anything.
It was– not nice per say, but bearable– at first. May has been so happy, so carefree and it made the spiderling try to push aside all the mean looks and too condescending questions David would shoot him over dinner or in the hallway.
"Join any sport teams yet, Petey?"
"Got any hot girls in your classes?"
"Do you really stutter this much or is it just a tick?"
All the times the man would accidentally push him into the wall hard enough to bruise or ram his arm into Peter's when walking past.
And he drank. A lot.
Mostly when May was at work or running errands. David would grab as many beers as possible and just chug and chug, leaving his trash all over the house for Peter to pick up.
And the boy did. If anything, to keep May from getting even more stressed.
But Peter isn't worried that much. He's Spider-Man. He can survive some small rough-housing and chores.
Because that's all it is. Just "man stuff" and all that. Becoming strong and reliable. So it's good, it's fine.
Nothing to worry about.
At least May is happy. The most happy she has been in a while, actually.
Peter tries not to think too hard about that.
After Ben, it's less than she deserves. More than Peter can give her, it seems.
Shaking his head, Peter sets the now melted ice bag on his desk, grabbing his phone from his pocket as it buzzes. Clicking it on, a text message illuminates his face in a hue of artificial white light.
Dad: Hey kiddo, you still coming over tonight?
Barely holding back a shit-eating grin, Peter types back a quick "definitely, be there in a few!" before grabbing his shoes and slipping them on, hissing in pain as he leans down to tie the laces.
Walking out into the hallway, the boy had just made it past the bathroom door when a hand grabs his arm.
The grip is tight, dull nails digging into his skin and the spiderling freezes, blood going cold.
"Where you heading off to, boy?" David's voice is slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol and Peter has to resist the urge to flinch away from the smell. "Not gonna go see that Tony Stark again, are you?"
Peter feels his heart speed up at the mention of the billionaire. David didn't keep his hatred for Tony a secret, far from it. Any chance he gets, the Doctor trash talks the man Peter had just began to call "Dad" and anything related to the man.
The one time Peter had spoken up, the one time he had questioned David's half-drunk ramblings during a night rant when May was working late, the man had hit him with a belt.
It was only once though. Peter could tell that David was extra stressed– most likely something from work– and had gone too far. The man himself, after that, had been more distant.
Peter suspects that the reason is guilt, but he can't know for sure with David.
The hitting stopped for a while after that, especially when May was home.
David was a perfect picture of "fatherly interest" then. Ruffled Peter's hair and everything.
The spiderling had to use every ounce of self-control to not flinch away.
Do it for, May. He makes her happy. Do it for her.
The hardest part, however, wasn't taking the pain and the nasty words spit in his face.
No, the hardest part was having to face Tony afterwards.
Suddenly, David shakes his arm and Peter gets thrown back to the present, his eyes watering as the man's grip tightens even more, alighting a pained hiss from the boy.
"Not gonna answer me, then?" The Doctor sneers. "Go then. See your little superhero and do whatever sciencey shit you two do. I'm surprised he actually wants you there, to be honest. At least Stark has something to offer, but you– you don't have anything to give him."
Peter tries not to believe it, but some small part of him does. Some tiny portion of his brain commits these foul words to memory and plays it over and over like a broken record.
Pathetic.
Shoving Peter away with a small scoff, David staggers backwards. His dark eyes study the young boy with barely held back disgust.
Then the door to the apartment swings open and the man straightens up, an overly cheerful grin lighting up his once twisted features.
"Boys? You guys hom–" May's voice flows into the room, cutting off abruptly as she rounds the corner, catching sight of both Peter and David. "Oh good! I was hoping you two were still here."
"May," David's voice is like velvet, no slurring to be found. Peter has to hold back a shudder. "You look lovely today, babe. Did you do something new to your hair?"
May, on her part, blinks in confusion as she pulls her hair out of a messy ponytail, her Nurse scrubs rising up her side as she laughs a little. "You're too good to me, Dave. Have you guys had a good day? Peter, how was school?"
"Fine." Peter says, turning his face away so his still sore eye is in shadow, feeling the piercing eyes of David shoot across his face. "It was fine."
May smiles and Peter's guilt increases tenfold. "Did you and Dave hang out? Anything fun happen?"
"Not really—"
Suddenly, the Doctor cuts him off, slinging an arm across May's waist and leading her into the living room. "Why don't you sit down, May? Take a load off, and all that. Peter was just leaving, right boy?"
Leave before she sees.
The order isn't said, but it's there and Peter knows better than to disobey.
"Y-Yeah, I'm just heading out. Gotta meet up with Dad." He swallows, backing away slowly. David gives him a small nod, face pinched. "I'll see-see you guys later."
Out of the corner of his eye, the teenager can see May smile. "Oh, yes! I forgot today was a 'father-son day'."
David's eyes narrow slightly at that and Peter has to resist the urge to shrink back under his scrutinizing stare.
"I'll have to text him about dinner tomorrow then, see if maybe he wants to stop by." May continues, painfully oblivious to the way her boyfriend clenches his fists next to her. "Just remember to shoot me a message if you want to stay the night there, Peter."
The spidering just nods quickly, swallowing. "Sure thing, Aunt May." He takes another step away, pulling up his hood with a barely there wince. "I've better get going before he gets worried–"
"Yes, yes, go have fun, baby. And stay safe!"
Giving a tiny wave over his shoulder, Peter makes it to the front door, his hand on the cool knob, just as David's too friendly voice floats over to him.
"Just remember what we talked about earlier, Petey. Don't let it get lost in that sciencey brain of yours."
Shuddering, the teenager rips the door open and steps out, closing it behind him just as his Aunt's answering laugh fills the room.
Warm breeze before a storm.
__________
"What the fuck happened to your face?"
Tony's voice startles Peter as he walks into the Lab, his hands clenching around his headphones as he pulls them from his ears. Looking up, the teen nearly flinches back when the billionaire appears beside him, his warm hands cupping Peter's jaw and tilting his face up.
Shit. Peter had forgotten about his black eye. Need an excuse, need an excuse.
"It's nothing," The boy answers, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Got hit on patrol, that's all."
Tony's eyes narrow, studying Peter's face with a soft sort of intensity that makes the spiderling squirm.
"That's funny, kiddo, cause Karen hasn't reported any activity for the past week." Tony speaks casually but his grip tightens slightly. Peter feels his face go pale. "Anything you need to tell me?"
The teen just shrugs, gaze going to the floor, where he studies his own beat up sneakers. He both feels and sees his Dad sigh, the genius releasing his face and taking a step back.
"Is it those little assholes at school again, bud? Do I need to have a chat with them again?"
Peter's head snaps up, his eyes widening as a small laugh spills out, unbidden. "No! No, Dad, it's not Flash, I swear!"
And that, at least, is not a lie.
"Then what is it, Peter?" Tony's voice is serious and he crosses his arms as he leans against the table. "You've never skipped patrol for this long, not even when you're grounded. What's going on, kiddie?"
Peter's insides go cold with guilt and he can't meet the man's eyes, shuffling over to the other side of the table and grabbing a screw driver.
"It's nothing." He says when the silence continues to stretch. He forces himself to laugh, twirling the tool in his hand. "I thought you wanted me to focus on school and not Spider-Man, and now that I am, you get all worried."
Tony's voices rises a bit and the teen can't hold back his flinch this time.
"But you haven't been focusing on school, Peter! Don't forget the fact that both me and May can see your grades. Just Monday, you failed a Chemistry quiz and didn't dress out for Gym."
Too tired to study, too much yelling. Didn't want people to see the bruises. To see the weakness.
Peter's face heats and he lets out a breathe, refusing to look up even when his Dad walks next to him, the man's voice softening the closer he gets.
"I want to help you, buddy. But you gotta let me in. Please."
And for a second, Peter relents. His body goes slack against the man and he can't keep his eyes dry. He wants to tell Tony. Wants to tell him everything and let the man save him, let Iron Man save him like he has wanted since he was a young kid.
"I-I--" He starts and then he remember's David's voice, cruel and devilishly deep, the way his fingers would dig into Peter's arm and the smell of the alcohol on his breath.
You don't have anything to give him.
Nothing. Nothing but a burden and more stress than Peter is worth.
Forcing himself to back out of Tony's arms, the boy spits out a rushed "I'm fine, Dad." before going to the other side of the work bench. He sees, out of the corner of his eye, Tony deflate sightly, the man running one hand down his face before turning to his own projects.
They don't talk for a while after that.
Peter just builds, pushing pieces together and molding them into a mass of wires and gears.
A part and a whole. Cause and effect.
All things Peter doesn't really need to think about. He can just do.
It isn't until Tony clears his throat that the teenager looks up again, squinting as his black eye throbs.
"Been a while since you ate, buddy. Wanna go get some pizza or something?"
As the billionaire speaks does Peter realize how hungry he actually is. His stomach growls, and he can't keep himself from laughing a little, slipping from the stool to stand.
"Yeah, that sounds good. Hawaiian right?"
Peter stifles a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and shivering a little as his back gives a satisfying pop. Turning his head, the boy watches as Tony starts to pack his work up, putting a gutted Gauntlet back on the shelf and walking over.
"You can eat that monstrosity, kiddo, I think I'll just stick with pepperoni-- What the fuck is that?!"
Flinching away when Tony suddenly leans closer, Peter pales as he realizes exactly what the genius was freaking out over.
The bruise from yesterday, when David had shoved him against the door for being late with dinner, stood out against his pale skin, stretching down his side. It was barely visible from where Peter's shirt had rose up, but it was enough to be noticeable.
Quickly pulling down the fabric, the spiderling steps back, his hip hitting the metal table and causing him to wince.
"N-Nothing--"
"Don't you dare lie to me. I know you, Peter. If I hear you say 'it's fine' one more goddamn time, I'm going to go down to your apartment and find out for myself." Tony's voice is wrecked, vulnerable in a way the boy has never heard. "Please, buddy, please don't keep things from me if you're hurting."
Shivering, Peter crosses his arms, ducking down and sniffs, cursing everything overhead when tears spring to his eyes. A warm hand, rough with calluses and as familiar as his own, settles on his shoulder and this time, Peter can't keep his mouth closed.
"David, he-he has been staying at our house and he--"
Tony holds up a hand. "Wait, who?"
Peter swallows. "May's new boyfriend. He doesn't like —uh me very much and he g-gets a little rough sometimes-- "
Tony's face is suddenly twisted in rage, his fists clenched and his body shaking. When he speaks, his words are spit out, simmering in the air around them. "He fucking hits you?"
Peter flinches back from the pure fury he can hear in the billionaire's voice and ducks his head, staring at the floor as his eyes blur with more tears.
"N-No-- "
"Peter."
"I mean, yes!" Head snapping up, Peter stares up at his Dad with eyes shrouded in pain, taking a staggering step toward him. "Yes, he hits me and-and calls me names and I hate him!"
Breathing heavily, the teen leans into Tony when his arms wrap around him, sobbing into his chest, crying fully for the first time in weeks. His shaking hands come up, wrapping around the billionaire's shirt and squeezing.
Tony just grips his tighter, rocking them both back and forth, running one hand through Peter's curls and his other squishing the teenager against his chest.
"So, your face, that was--"
"Yes."
"Oh, Peter. . ." Tony's voice is weighted in agony and anger.
The boy just cries harder, body shaking with the force.
"Hey hey, baby, it's okay now. Shh, shh. Calm down, Pete." The genius repeats over and over. "I've got you, buddy, I've got you."
Over the course of a few brutal minuets does Peter finally calm down enough to pull back, sniffling. Eyes soft, Tony gently cups his face once more, wiping away his left over tears, gazing at him with an expression the spiderling can't place right away.
Finally, Peter breaks the silence, throat dry and eyes aching. "I'm sorry."
Confusion clouds Tony's eyes, his grip tightening for a split second before he lets go, keeping Peter close to his side as he leads them over to the small couch in the corner.
"Why are you sorry, kiddo?" He asks gently.
The teenager looks away, keeping his gaze on his lap, his face going hot. He shrugs.
He hears Tony sigh, feeling the cushion sink as the man leans closer, his arm coming to rest on Peter's shoulders, pulling the boy against his side.
"I wasn't strong enough." It's said in a whisper, barely audible over the beating of both their hearts. "I-I couldn't stop him from hurting me and-and for being too weak! You probably regret having me as-as a son. I'm so sorry, Dad."
Tony shifts him impossibly closer, speaking into his hair. "No, no, bud, it's not your fault, okay? And, for the record, nothing in this entire Universe could make me regret you."
And Peter agrees, if only because he is too drained to argue. Resting his head on his Dad's shoulder, the boy lets his throbbing eyes slip shut, content in the fact that he is safe and loved.
He almost doesn't hear what Tony says next, too caught up in steady rise of exhaustion that makes his limbs heavy and his brain muffled.
"Don't you worry, kiddie, Dad's gonna take care of it. Don't you worry."
__________
Tony, of course, let Peter stay the night.
They boy wakes up the next morning to sunlight streaming into the window, illuminating the far wall in a burst of golden light. Sitting up, his blankets pooling around his waist, Peter yawns, blinking.
He had slept well that night. Better than he has in a long time.
Shaking his head, Peter carefully stands up, walking over to his dresser and opening his drawer. His room at the Tower is as familiar as his room at the apartment and the boy has no trouble pulling out a pair of faded jeans and t-shirt.
Getting dressed quickly, he manages to make it down to the kitchen before getting too hungry Looking around at the comfortably silent room, the spiderling lets out a sigh, enjoying the peace and quite, at least for a few seconds, before Tony gets up.
The genius himself makes an appearance a few minuets later, coming through the doorway just as Peter is pouring himself his second bowl of cereal.
"Morning, buddy." The man says, stopping on his way to the coffee machine to gently kiss the top of Peter's head. "Sleep good?"
Quickly swallowing his mouthful, the boy answers in positive, keeping his eyes on his soggy cereal.
"What, uh, what are we gonna tell Aunt May?" He asks quietly, hunching his shoulders when he hears Tony turn toward him.
The man answers simply, voice not up for argument. "Everything."
Peter's head snaps up, his eyes wide. "W-What? But-but–-"
Only now, looking at the genius straight on, does the spiderling realize that his Dad is in a dark, three piece suit, the black clothe making his eyes even darker.
"Just trust me, kiddo." Is all he says, turning back to his steaming up with a wave of his hand. "Alight?"
Peter swallows, trying to ignore the way his stomach clenches with anxiety and his hands shake.
"O-Okay."
__________
"Oh, Tony!" May's voice is surprised as she opens the door, eyes wide. "I wasn't expecting you for dinner until a couple of hours."
The billionaire holds up his hand, effectively stopping the elder Parker as she continues to ramble apologies for the apparent state of the apartment.
"It's fine, May." His smile is wicked, sharp and almost evil. "This shouldn't take very long anyway."
Ignoring the confused stare his Aunt shoots him, Peter shuffles into his other home behind his Dad, flinching a bit when David's voice echoes from the living room.
"Babe, who's at the door?"
Placing a hand on Peter's shoulder, Tony gives it a gentle squeeze before confidently striding into the other room, the two Parkers following behind in various states of bewilderment.
David had stood up by the time Peter rounds the corner, his blue eyes wide with shock as he takes it the sight of Tony Stark walking into the room. Peter would have laughed if he didn't feel so sick.
"Stark," The Doctor's voice is higher than normal, his face pale. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Tony rolls his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pocket, his voice nonchalant. "What, a man can't come visit his son and friend once and a while?"
Feeling a hand grab his arm, the teenager looks over to see May watching the two men, her brows furrowed.
David scoffs, running an agitated hand through his hair. "You can't just come into my home whenever you want, bastard."
"Well, asshole," Tony answers, copying David's annoyed tone. "In case you didn't realize, this isn't your anything, so I would kindly back the fuck up before--"
That's when May steps in, moving in-between them and crossing her arms. She turns toward Tony first, her eyes narrowed.
"Would anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on here?" She says.
David opens his mouth to speak, taking a step toward her, but Tony cuts him off, his voice angry for the first time that conversation.
"I'll tell you what's going on, May." Looking over at where Peter stands in the corner of the room, Tony holds his hand out, face softening a little. "Come here, bud, it's okay."
Peter, after stumbling around the couch, makes it over to Tony, who immediately pulls his against his side.
Pausing only for a second to place a quick kiss against Peter's forehead, the billionaire turns back toward May, his expression hardening once more.
"That-that sick prick," He snarls, jabbing a finger in the direction of the glaring David, "Has been fucking using our kid as a punching bag for the last month."
May snaps her head toward the Doctor, eyes wide and shocked. "What? D-David, is this true?"
"No, no of course not, babe." The man says, tone soft and soothing, turning his eyes to glare at Tony. "Stark has probably just had too much to drink, that's all."
"Bullshit!" Tony says, tightening his hold on Peter as the boy flinches. "That's complete bullshit and you know it! Why try and hide it, David?" The Doctor's name is spat out, "No sense in lying, the proof is all over my son's body."
This time, David turns his furious glare on Peter.
"The little shit has just been sprouting lies, and if there are bruises on him, it's probably just from his own carelessness."
Peter shrinks under the man's stare and Tony is quick to step in front of the boy, effectively blocking his kid's trembling frame from the Doctor.
The other man just shrugs, face weary even as he lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. "He's not your son, Stark. Little Petey isn't good enough for real pa--"
David's head snaps back, the pure force of Tony's punches sending him reeling agains the wall. Shaking his hand out, the billionaire growls, standing tall above the groaning Doctor, pulling Peter more against his side.
"If you ever talk to or about my child again, you're gonna have much more than just my bare fist to deal with, fucker."
Staggering up, holding one hand against his bleeding nose and stabilizing himself with his other, David turns toward May. His expression changes to false innocence, blue eyes wide.
"May, you don't believe these-these lies, right?" He asks, voice soft. "Babe?"
Coming around Tony, May only pauses once to gently pat the hand the genius lays on her shoulder before approaching the man she once called her boyfriend.
"Oh, David." She sighs and the Doctor is quick to turn his smug face toward Tony and Peter. "Don't be silly. . ."
It is gone, however, replaced by pain and disbelief, as soon as May slams her foot down on his crotch, his eyes bugging.
"I'll believe my family over you, any day." The elder Parker hisses, her brown eyes narrowed into slits as she glares down at the man. "Now get the fuck out of my house!"
David just moans in pain, curling in on himself. His face is pinched in discomfort and rage and Peter never thought an expression could bring such a relief.
Serves you right, asshole.
Releasing Peter with a small squeeze, Tony walks out of the room and over to the front door, opening it and ushering a group of police officers into the apartment with a wave of a hand.
"Right on time. The bastard is over there, Officers, make sure you cuff him up extra tight for me." Tony says, voice surprisingly cheerful.
"Sure thing, Mr. Stark." One responds. Her face is twisted in a grin.
May doesn't speak, just takes a few steps backwards as the cops file into the room and drag David to his feet. The Doctor, for his part, doesn't resist the handcuffs snapped to his wrists, only glares at the floor. His face is smeared with blood and Peter resists the urge to shiver.
Finally, they drag David out, Tony promising that his lawyers would be in contact as soon as possible. Then it's just the three of them.
The apartment is almost eerie in the silence.
Carefully leading Peter from where he was standing in the middle of the room, Tony gently sets him down on the couch. The spiderling feels the cushions sink as both the genius and May join him and he can't stop his heart from sinking too.
When May's hand settles on his, Peter can't keep himself from jumping a little, his eyes glancing up onto her face before he looks back down.
"Peter, sweetheart, please look at me." His Aunt's voice is ragged and the teen winces a little, keeping his gaze stubbornly on his lap.
Tony's hand settles on his shoulder next, squeezing gently. "Whatever you're thinking, buddy, it's not true, okay? We love you, Pete, and none of this was your fault."
May clears her throat, her grip tightening. "Tony's right, baby. It's not your fault. It's mine."
Peter's eyes snap up, a protest forming on his lips before the elder Parker holds up her hand, face serious and drawn.
"Just--" She sniffs. "Why didn't I see? Why didn't you tell me, Peter? Did I do something to-to make you not trust me? For you to keep that from me--"
Peter cuts her off, his stomach churning and Tony reaches over to gently brush his hair behind his ear, his fingers lingering against the boy's cheek. The touch both comforts and gives the spiderling strength.
"No! No, May, of course I trust you!" He looks between both of the adults, "I trust both of you with my life."
Tony speaks this time, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "Why didn't you tell us, kiddie? You were hurting, baby, and we could have helped you sooner, so why?"
Peter shrugs, looking toward May, his doe eyes filled with pain.
"You were happy." The teenager says quietly, nearly whispering. "With-With him and you deserve to be happy, Aunt May. You deserve so much more than I can give you."
"Peter, Peter, Peter." May says, sounding fondly exasperated, "That's the thing, honey. I don't want anyone other than you."
His Aunt's arms around him are sudden and Peter can't keep his sobs quiet anymore. They spill out of him and both his parents react instantly, surrounding him as he falls apart, curling their bodies around his trembling frame.
Somehow, they all find themselves in their normal position, with Peter's head against Tony's chest and his feet in May's lap, the billionaire gently running his fingers through his curls and his Aunt rubbing soothing circles down his back.
By this time, Peter's cries had settled down to an occasional sniffle and he yawns, sagging further against both adults.
"Go to sleep, buddy." Tony's voice is soft, soothing, his nails gently scratching at the boy's scalp, untangling knots as he goes. Peter nearly purrs at the feeling.
"S'ay?" Peter ask, voice slurred, exhaustion pulling at his eyes. "Please?"
May answers, shifting her Nephew's legs so that he is laying sideways, his knees hitting her stomach. "We aren't leaving, sweetie. We promise."
The young Parker hears his Dad echo the sediment, the scratch of his goatee against Peter's forehead the last sensation the boy feels before he surcomes to the lull of dream land.
Completely, one hundred percent safe and loved