(Hey sorry about the delay. I've been sick and had homework to catch up on but winter break just started for me so hopefully I'll be able to catch up soon!!)
Peter was so excited to be going on a trip with Mister Stark. May was visiting relatives in Italy, but didn't have the money to take Peter. So the kid decided to bug Tony who was being forced to fly, on a public plane, to southern Florida for meetings.
Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as it sounds to take the kid anywhere. Stupid Parker luck.
*
Peter is bouncing in his seat, eyes wide with excitement, looking around the first class section with awe. There's not many others there, just a few business men and woman working on laptops or sleeping.
"Chill, kid. This your first time on a plane?" Tony asks, rolling his eyes and buckling his seatbelt.
"Yes! I was supposed to go a couple years ago but then the Oscorp thing happened and I had to skip the field trip thing. So yeah. First time," Peter explains, blushing softly at the intense stare from his mentor.
"Alright, kiddo. Well it's going to get pretty loud and freaky when we take off so I've got your sensory overload kit in my carry on for when we start moving plus I've got some snacks and some other foods in my backpack for the long trip. You can order whatever you want to my tab. You've got a full collection of movies on your tablet and you've got all your homework in your backpack if you're up for it," Tony explains, shuffling through his carry on at his feet and pulling out the sensory overload kit for specialized headphones and sunglasses to stop the sensory overload before it happens.
"Thanks, Mister Stark!" Peter grins in response, excited to e spending the weekends with his mentor.
*
The first half of the plane ride goes perfectly fine. Peter and Tony had watched a movie, and now the kid has fallen asleep, finally falling from his excitement high.
The beginning of the second half is where problems arise.
"Attention passengers! Attention! This is your captain speaking. There has been some unexpected bad weather on Route and I don't believe it is safe to continue flying. We will be making an emergency stop at the next airport until the weather tides over. All tickets will be refunded or exchangeable if you wish to not wait. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but your safety is our number one priority. Thank you for understanding," a man says over the intercoms.
Peter's eyes widen and he sits up, fingers curling into small fists.
Tony immediately puts a hand over Peter's, unclencing his hands so he doesn't hurt himself.
"It's fine, Petey. This sort of thing happens all the time. Probably a blizzard or something. I'm sure the planes will be up and running in the morning," Tony reassures, letting the kid curl his fingers around Tony's.
"I just... My parents-" the words are too soft, too heavy coming out of the teenager.
"Hey, we're going to be fine. I swear. I wouldn't have taken you if I didn't think it was safe. We'll get a hotel room and eat some takeout and sleep and in the morning we'll hop on a plane either going back home or continuing to Florida. It's going to fine," Tony reassures again, squeezing his kid's hand.
Peter nods, offering a small, tight smile in return.
Turns out, it wasn't quite so simple.
The airport they were stopping at was a small airport in Virginia. The Newport News-Williamsburg International Airport. No hotel in the building and very few places for food and drinks. Small. Dense. Freaky in a way an airport is.
Airports are places that feel timeless with people bustling around, checking watches, charging devices for long flights, sleeping in uncomfortable chairs, no clocks on the walls other than the big boards with the flights.
All of which say postponed or cancelled, but the airport isn't busy. It's not jam packed with people. Most are driving out to the city, but Tony knows he can't do that. There's too big of a chance of him being recognized and paparazzi and photographers, and with how anxious Peter seems, Tony doesn't want to risk it.
So they find a relatively nice spot where they can sit where they can hear announcements for any plane's departure if need be, but where there's not many people in sight. No other loud noises to make Peter too anxious or worse, send him into a sensory overload.
The bench isn't comfortable. Wooden, cold, no back support. The airport seems to have their air conditioning up too high so Peter's got goosebumps within minutes. With the spider bite came the inability to thermoregulate as well as regular people, so despite the sweater and the thick sweatpants, he's trembling by the time the first hour passes.
"Hey, kiddo? You want me to go buy you a blanket? You're shaking," Tony finally asks, looking up from his Starkphone where he had been talking to his friends about what was happening and trying to see if his meetings could get postponed.
Peter flushes at the words, wrapping his arms tighter around his stomach to try to conceal his obvious shivers. "I'm okay."
"No, you're not. Come here," Tony sighs, opening his arms for the teenager.
Peter doesn't need to be told twice, diving into the hero's arms and burrowing his head into Tony's chest. Tony's arms wrap tightly around his kid's shoulders and back, trying to somehow push his warmth into the kid's body.
They sit like that for a while, only shifting when Tony's back starts to ache in the awkward position of the bench.
"You hungry?" Tony asks, ruffling the kid's hair.
He pulls away and looks up with his big, bambi eyes. "Are you?"
Tony rolls his eyes. "I asked you first."
"Fine, yeah. A little bit. Fries?" Peter questions, body more relaxed than before from the much needed hug from his mentor.
Tony nods and pulls himself to his feet, back cracking with his movements. Tony groans as he stretches, glaring at the kid as though daring him to say something.
Peter lifts his hands in surrender, a teasing smile on his lips. "I was definitely not going to say anything about how you're getting old."
Tony rolls his eyes again, he seems to do that a lot around Peter. "I swear to god, kid."
"That's not very nice, Mister Stark," Peter says, smiling innocently.
"Where'd you get this sarcasm from?" Tony asks, shaking his head.
"I have absolutely no idea, Mister Stark. It definitely was not from you," Peter says, sticking out his tongue and giggling.
"C'mere, kid. We've got a mission. Finding a place to buy fries."
*
An hour and a half later, the storm is hitting and Peter is not happy about that.
Peter would never admit it to Tony Stark. Would never admit it to Iron Man. That he had fears. That he was terrified of storms. After his parents died, he got freaked out every time a storm would hit. Thunder making him flinch and lightning making him squeeze his eyes shut for fear of seeing his parents in the light the electricity casts across the dark corners of the room.
He was over the nightmares he used to get after his parents died. He stopped having nightmares after his uncle died, it was storming that night too. He's even stopped having nightmares from the Vulture. But when storms hit, it all comes back to him. He's forced to remember everything.
He wasn't there when his parents died. He wasn't there when the plane crashed. But he saw it on the news. And he would get these weirdly realistic dreams from when it happened as though he knew the details about what had happened on the inside of the plane, seeing his parents screaming and crying as the plane took a nosedive.
He was there when his uncle died. Watched the rain wash away the blood from the bullet wound on his uncle's chest. Watched the lightning illuminate Ben's pale, gaunt face, blood dripping from the corners of his lips. Watched as the flickering streetlight above showed the light leaving his family member's eyes. Remembered walking home in the rain. Every boom of thunder making him flinch, the noise sounding like the gun firing. Remembered walking into the house, not sure if he was crying or if it was just the rain cascading down his cheeks. Remembered the blood under his nails as the lightning flashed outside and illuminated his aunt standing out on the front porch, already having guessed what was happening somehow.
Everything came back to him whenever it stormed.
If he were home, May would've taken him to the living room, wrapping him in a blanket and sitting him on the couch. She would've cuddled with him, made him hot chocolate and watched sappy movies to help him forget the storm brewing outside the house.
The tower was nice because Peter was able to brush it off as a sensory overload and could go hide off in a sound proof room until the storm blew over.
But here, in the middle of nowhere, where the thunder rumbled the entire structure of the building. Here, where he didn't have May or a sound proof room or somewhere to hide off while he cried, he had to just hold on to his sanity and hope he could last out the storm.
It was progressively getting colder because of the storm, and he used that as a reason to curl up against Tony, trying not to flinch too noticeably every time thunder shook the foundation.
But soon, it was getting too much for him to handle and his body was beginning to tremble in fear and he knew he was on the brink of an anxiety attack.
So he stood, pulling himself away from Tony's arms and trying to pull off a nonchalant expression.
"Bathroom," he chokes out, wishing he sounded stronger and more put together. "Going to the... Going to the bathroom."
"Are you okay, kid? You look shaken," Tony says, standing again. His back cracks again with the movement and he can't stop the yawn that takes over him for a moment.
"Yeah!" Peter exclaims too quickly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just going to go to the bathroom."
Before Tony has a chance to respond, Peter's already scurrying off.
Peter's so grateful the bathroom is empty as he falls to the floor in one of the stalls, not even bothering to lock the door, not having the strength to reach up.
The tears start falling and his breaths are few and far between, gasping for air. As the thunder rumbles through the floor again, vibrating through his body.
A quiet sob escapes his parched lips and he quickly clamps a shaking hand over his mouth to silence his cries as he heaves to get a breath into his lungs.
A flash of lightning throws light through the dingy airport bathroom and in Peter's haze of crying delusion, he sees his uncle. Sprawled out across the floor in a pool of his own blood, the thunder another gunshot echoing through the room.
Peter barely turns in time, throwing up the fries and snacks from earlier. His back spasms with his heaves, coughing up the rest of the stomach acid that burns at the insides of his throat. His tears splash across the surface of the water and he struggles to pull in another breath.
He's almost managed to get control over his breathing when the lights in the bathroom flicker. Peter's eyes dart up to the ceiling, pleading with any higher power listening to not let the airport lose power.
His Parker luck strikes again when the lights flicker again and don't come back on again.
The room is thrown into darkness, clouds rolling across the sky outside the high windows.
Peter sobs again, clamping a hand back over his mouth to try to hold himself together.
His body trembles and his throat burns and he's not sure if his eyes are open or closed anymore and the smell from his vomit and the strong cleaning supplies assault his senses and he curses whatever higher power he had been praying to before. Not only an anxiety attack and hallucinations of his dead relative, he's gotta deal with a sensory overload as well?
Everything's too much.
Too much for the small teenager curled up by himself in an airport bathroom.
He pulls his hand away from his mouth to squeeze his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes as he gasps for air through his mouth, trying not to breathe through his nose but trying to breath around sobs as well.
And the bathroom door opens.
Thunder rumbles through the room again and Peter whimpers in fear, tucking his knees closer against his chest.
"Peter?" the voice is quiet, not far from him either.
Lightning flashes through the room but this time, instead of seeing his uncle, he sees his father figure's worried brown eyes watching carefully, hands hovering by his shoulders as though too scared of touching him.
Peter dives for Tony, clenching his fists in Tony's shirt as he sobs into the crook of his mentor's neck, desperate for comfort.
"Why didn't you tell me, Petey? You know I wouldn't have judged you for being scared of storms. It's okay. I could've helped you," Tony rambles, clutching his kid close to his chest. With a free hand, he reaches out and flushes the toilet beside them, and then starts running his fingers through Peter's sweaty curls. "I've got you, kid. I've got you. I'm right here. I've got you."
Peter whimpers in response, tugging himself closer against the man's chest, desperate for comfort against his own mind as the thunder rumbles through the room.
"The storm's almost over, underoos. It's okay. I've got you. It's all going to be okay," Tony murmurs, cradling his kid's head against his neck.
The soft blue glow is comforting against the darkness of the room and Peter's able to hyper focus on the glow and hum of the arc reactor to protect himself from the storm outside.
"Do you want Happy to come pick us up in a private jet? He can be here in just a few hours if that's what you want," Tony suggests, voice barely above a whisper as he soothes his child's fears.
"Wanna go home," Peter whines quietly. "No plane."
"It'll be a long drive, Pete. You willing to wait out the storm here while Happy drives down for us?"
Peter hums softly in response, breathing in time with Tony and focusing on Tony's steady heartbeat. "Wanna sleep."
"Okay, kid. Okay. I've got you. You can sleep and when you wake up, the storm will be gone, okay? I've got you."
"I know," Peter responds, letting his body finally relax against the hero. "G'dnight."
"Goodnight, underoos," Tony says, sighing softly and pressing a soft kiss to the teenager's temple as he finally drifts off. And despite it being sort of gross to be sitting on a bathroom floor in the dark against the uncomfortable wall of the bathroom stall, Tony doesn't mind. He's just glad he was able to help his kid, glad his child is sleeping peacefully despite the storm raging on outside.