Work Text:
2002
“Mr. Stark doesn't take visitors,” started a snooty voice behind the desk. “And even if he did, he isn't in at the moment.”
“That's bullshit and we both know it. I just saw his driver drop him off,” the woman snapped. “You know what, forget it.” She found one of the cameras sitting high in the corners of the room and looked directly into it. “I don't want anything from you Stark, and I definitely don't need it.”
Rhodey didn't recognize her voice when she said excuse me after bumping into him while leaving Stark Industries Tower. She’d never made it past the front desk, but her face seemed familiar enough somehow. He couldn't quite place that either, only a glimpse of dark hair and blush and hickeys and dragging a dead-weight Tony out of a hotel room full of giggling women. He definitely wouldn't know her name. The kid on her hip was looking at him though, with huge brown eyes and curly brown hair and a goofy little one-toothed grin.
Rhodey smiled back with a small wave.
Then
Peter had never thought much about Parker Luck, but it was really starting to take a toll on him. His parents had died in a plane crash when he was 4 and two years later he found a letter addressed to him in one of the boxes May had stuffed in his closet that said Richard Parker wasn't even his father. A couple of days later and Tony Stark was gone too.
Peter had panicked for 2 months before finally telling May and Ben what was going on. He'd cried and screamed so loud that he'd made himself sick for a week afterward. Then as if by magic, Tony had come back and it was all over the news. Peter wished he could have been there. At least so he could have hugged his dad and welcomed him home. Tony Stark was a different person. A changed man. Peter couldn't help but smile at the screen.
Things had changed at May and Ben’s place too. They hadn't been a fan of Tony Stark before the letter. He was too much of a playboy. A certified bad influence. But almost in the blink of an eye, he seemed to always be on TV when Peter had free time, but they weren't forcing him to turn away like they used to.
***
When Peter turned 8, he had accumulated a love of science just as widespread as all three of his parents, and with his luck working the way it did, it was almost a given that he’d end up having a staredown with one of the Hammer Drones at his first-ever Stark Expo. Only his luck that Iron Man would show up; that his dad would save him .
Peter promised himself that he would stop obsessing over meeting his dad once he'd actually done it, but then it kept happening.
***
He had never expected Tony Stark to be sitting on his couch with a black eye, waiting to talk to him. He was ready to talk, to scream, to cry. To do anything besides talk about Spider-Man. Not when he's had to lose father figures too many times before and all he wanted was for his dad to say “I'm sorry”. To hug him. To hold him. But then Tony brings it up.
“You're the Spiderling? Crime-fighting spider. You're Spiderboy?”
“Spiderman,” Peter said and it’s more of a groan because even his father cared more about Spider-Man than him.
“Not in that onesie you're not.”
“It's not a onesie.”
Peter brushed past him while rolling his eyes because he didn't spend all his energy trying to have a good day at school just for this guy that he admires to talk trash about his suit.
“Can't believe this. I was actually having a really good day today, you know, Mr. Stark. Didn't miss my train; this perfectly good DVD player was just sitting there; and,” he paused before continuing a little quieter because he shouldn't want to say it but he just wanted to hear his dad be proud of him just once. “Algebra test,” he said finally, “nailed it.”
“Who else knows? Anybody?” Tony asked looking up from the suit for what seemed like the first time. Peter deflated before looking away. He didn't know what he expected. He shook his head.
“Nobody.”
***
When his dad laid a hand on his shoulder and invited him to Germany he panicked. Then Germany actually happened and his dad had gone silent for months and he panicked harder. Showing up unannounced at the Avengers’ tower was probably not the smartest thing he'd ever done but he needed to see his dad. He needed to know that he was okay.
He ran into Happy instead.
“He~y, Happy…” Peter said trying not to show his anxiety even if he was sure it’d be dripping from his pores. “Is Mr. Stark here? I uh...kind of wanted to talk to him about something. You know,” he took his voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, “Spider-Man stuff.”
“Look, Kid. As you can see we’re busy. Boss isn’t here.” Happy rolled his eyes up into his head annoyed but Peter still heard him mutter a resolute: “God forbid he do any actual organizing.”
“Well uh is there any way for me to get in contact with him other than bothering you?”
“No.”
“But-”
“He’ll contact you if he needs help again. Go home, kid.”
Peter wanted to scream and shout and make a scene, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Not when his dad wasn’t even there. But Happy didn’t seem too worried which meant Mr. Stark was fine right? Nothing detrimental. He was just…done with Peter. He’d called him in for reinforcements and Peter’d done that. There was no reason for him to talk to him anymore and Peter thought that maybe that hurt worse than having a multi-ton jetway dropped on him by Captain America.
He walked home a lot less anxious but a lot more put out than when he had convinced himself to go over there. He resigned himself to not seeing his dad again. Then the guy with the wings and the weapons showed up and Peter had almost drowned. He doesn’t think he’d been that happy to see an Iron Man suit since he was 8 and seconds from being disintegrated. But then his dad wasn't even there.
***
Peter was having a bad week. Happy wouldn't call him back or answer his calls. His dad didn't trust him. He’d almost blown his own cover. Then the ferry incident happened.
“Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch : I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multi-million dollar suit so you can sneak around behind my back and do the one thing I asked you not to do.”
Peter doesn't want to look at the suit. The suit was cold and unforgiving and he doesn't know how Iron Man was ever his favorite hero when his faceplate is that terrifying. His response is a murmur.
“Is everyone okay?”
“No thanks to you.”
“No thanks to me?” Peter hops down from where he's sitting on the edge of the building overlooking the water and his mistake. Because that's what it was. A mistake . Whether his dad wanted to acknowledge it or not. “Those weapons were out there and I tried to tell you about’em but you didn't listen. None of this would have happened if you’d’ve just listened to me!” Looking at the suit was enough to make him angrier. He wants to shove at it and get his feelings out. Feelings he's had most of his life, but have piled up almost especially in the last few months. “If you even cared you’d actually be here.”
Watching his dad step out of the suit sent a spike of fear up his spine. He decided that maybe the man inside the tin can was just as terrifying.
“I did listen, kid. Who d’you think called the FBI, huh? D’you know that I was the only one that believed in you? Everyone else thought I was crazy to recruit a 14-year-old kid.”
“I'm 15.”
“No, this is where you zip it ! The adult is talking.” Mr. Stark is looking at him like he shouldn't have taken the chance. Like he should have left him in his ratty apartment in Queens. Like he wishes he shouldn't have taken the time to find out who the Spider-Kid was. “What if someone would've died? Different story, right? Cause that's on you. And if you died, I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience.”
“Y-yes, sir. I-I-”
His dad cut off his stuttering with an elongated cue to just say yes, but he couldn't. Not when his dad looked like he was never going to talk to him again.
“I-I'm sorry.”
“Sorry doesn't cut it.”
“I understand. I just— I just wanted to be like you.” Because that's what it came down to didn't it? He’d spent his whole life looking up to this man and all he’d ever wanted to be was like his father. He’d be strong for Uncle Ben and brave like his dad and he’d hope it’d be enough to bring one of them back.
“And I wanted you to be better.” The air felt tense but he didn't want to make eye contact and somehow make it worse. “Okay, it's not working out. I'm gonna need the suit back.”
“F-for how long?”
“Forever.” Mr. Stark watched him as he shook his head, but his dad was nodding. “Yeah, that's right.”
“No. Nonono. Please, please, please, Mr. Stark—”
“Let’s have it.”
“You don't understand. Please, this is all I have.” This is all I have of you. This is the only way you’ll talk to me. This is the only way I can have you in my life. This is the only way I can make Ben proud. This is all I am . “I'm nothing without this suit.” I'm just a kid from Queens. I don't exist.
“If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. Okay? God, I sound like my dad.”
Peter wanted to say no, you sound like mine , but he could barely think past the fact that he didn't even have any other clothes with him. When he told Mr. Stark that, he felt pathetic. Being taken to May’s house in Hello Kitty pajama pants didn't help.
***
Homecoming night when he's strapped back in his old onesie suit fighting the Vulture after having to lift himself from under a building, he wondered if his dad did what he did because he cared or because he was tired of looking after him from afar. Tired of having to say he knew the ratty vigilante from the ratty apartment in Forest Hill, Queens. Peter propped himself on top of the ferris wheel; he was tired.
The fight wasn't easy, and he'd never been as sore or burned or bruised before. But he’d saved his dad's stock and probably Happy’s job and he thought maybe that’d be enough to tell him he was sorry. And it was enough. Enough to get his suit back and an invitation to the Avengers and time to spend with his dad...
But then there was Titan. Then he’d died.
Now
Peter blinks his eyes open dazedly to a bright white room. Someone is holding his hand and snoozing softly. The smell is soft like lavender and burnt banana nut bread and he smiles when he catches sight of his Aunt May’s gray-streaked hair.
“Hey, Underoos,” says Mr. Stark softly from where he's leaning against the door.
“Hi, Mr. Stark. Uh…weren’t we in space?” Peter's voice is quiet so he won't wake May but Mr. Stark still hears him.
“We got some help from a friend,” he says shrugging.
“Did I…” Peter can't forget the feeling of his cells dying. Of every piece of him being ripped apart again and again as his healing factor tried to keep him together. When he looks at his dad he immediately changes his question. “How long have I been out?”
“A few weeks.”
“And before that?”
“Almost a year.”
“How long has she been here?” Peter asks, looking down at his aunt, noting the new strands of gray in her hair. Trying to comprehend the fact that he’s been dead for almost a year .
“As long as you have. She was here when we got back and she's barely left your side. We had to pry her away to shower and go to work.” Mr. Stark’s voice is odd when he speaks again. “We did get to have an uh...interesting conversation while you were out.”
“Oh?” asks Peter, still watching May, listening to her heartbeat and making sure she's okay too. He doesn’t notice his dad’s heart stutter from nerves. The beat has always been a little irregular. “What about?”
“I’m your dad?” Mr. Stark asks, but it doesn't really leave much room for an answer, because he was never one for beating around the bush. The blush on Peter's face is warm and he doesn't know what to say.
“She was just kidding,” Peter says instead. “You know, I've looked up to you forever and—”
“She showed me a letter from your mom and we did the blood work.”
“Uh…”
“How’re you feeling?” asks Stark, changing the subject, but he does look genuinely concerned.
“F-fine. I’m fine. Better than fine.” He looks down at his hands. “I’m not dust.”
“Nah, Pete, you’re not dust.” Mr. Stark is still keeping a bit of distance between them, but he doesn’t look as well put together as usual. Peter remembers the panic on his dad’s face back on Titan and wonders how long his dad has cared about him. “You want some water? Something to eat?” He turns to head back around as if he’s ready to run at a moment's notice.
“She shouldn’t have told you,” Peter says finally and Mr. Stark snaps his eyes back to him and stands up a little straighter.
“How long have you known?” He motions his hand between them. “About all this?”
“Since I was a kid.” Peter shrugs before looking over at his dad. “My parents...well my mom and Richard, I guess, they died when I was 4. I found the letter in some of their old junk.”
“Pete—”
“It’s fine, Mr. Stark. I had May and Ben.”
Mr. Stark’s face is hurt in a way that says he understands, but Peter doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s read his dad’s biography enough to make a guess at what’s going on inside his head. He looks back to his hands then over at May.
“You know, when she told me, I didn’t want to believe her,” Tony says and Peter’s blood freezes. He’s known for a while now that he’s probably just a nuisance to his dad. His dad was a billionaire, a genius, he didn’t have time for someone like—
“Oh?” Peter asks, his voice small.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re a great kid. You’re smart as hell, smarter than I’ll ever be, that’s for sure. But you’re so kind. Sure, we’re the Avengers, but we stay up here in the tower or in the compound. We work with numbers and statistics and aliens, but you...You go out there every night and stick up for the little guy. No matter how small the problem.” Mr. Stark shakes his head. “There’s no way I could be your dad when you’ve got a heart as big as that. I’d only mess you up. You’ve known me for what? A year? Maybe two? And I get you murdered on a foreign planet in the middle of space.”
“But Mr. Stark, that wasn’t your fault.”
“I was so worried about you after the fight in Germany, then there was the Vulture guy and the Ferry Incident and the Plane crash and I feel like all I know how to do is put you in harm’s way,” Mr. Stark continues as if Peter had never spoken. “A parent shouldn’t do that to their kid. To any kid, for that matter.”
“You didn’t know.”
“But I should have!” His voice is loud enough that May wakes up, taking a look around before her eyes land on Peter.
“Peter! You’re awake!” She pulls him into a crushing hug and kisses every part of his face she can reach. “I’m so glad you’re okay, but you are in huge trouble, young man.” She pulls him away from her chest until he is at arm’s length so she can visually check him over. When everything seems fine, her shoulders seem to relax. “How dare you go to space? I was so worried about you and then I hear that Spiderman had gone missing and I was—”
“I was with Dad,” says Peter. It’s a flimsy defense and he knows it.
“I don’t care if you were with Captain America.” She doesn’t notice the way he grimaces at the phantom ache from holding up a jetway. “You don’t do that. You don’t just up and leave the galaxy without letting me know. You don’t go off-world. You don’t leave New York. You don’t leave school without letting me know first, for God’s sake.”
Peter looks away, not able to take the full force of her tear-filled gaze. He glances around the med-bay, but Mr. Stark is nowhere to be found.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, god, Peter.” She pulls him into another hug and he can feel her tears on his shirt while his own are mingling with her hair and her soft cardigan.
***
Learning how to walk after dying is not as easy as Peter hopes. It’s actually a lot of stumbling and crying and falling and pulling himself up to try again. Colonel Rhodes has been helping with his physical therapy and recovery, and although their injury isn’t the same, it’s still nice to have someone there who understands some of what he’s feeling.
“So, you’re Tony’s kid?” Colonel Rhodes asks after about a week of physical therapy training together. It’s a long shot from the usual pop culture he helps Peter keep up with after the snap and subsequent weeks of being out of it.
“Uh...y-yeah.”
He nods at Peter’s answer, but he doesn’t say anything else about it. The change of subject back to movies and Avengers’ gossip sends Peter into a fit of laughter that has him tripping over his own weakened legs yet again.
“Sorry, kid, stay focused. You almost had it that time.”
“Thanks, Colonel Rhodes, sir.”
“No worries,” Colonel Rhodes says patting him on the back, but helping to hold him up as well. “Besides, it’s Uncle Rhodey now, huh?”
Peter’s eyes widen but he smiles and nods frantically. “Yeah! Totally, Mr. Uncle Rhodey, sir.”
Col— his Uncle Rhodey laughs at him and it’s the happiest he remembers being since waking up with May holding onto his hand because all he could think back then was: I’m not dead. I’m not dead. I’m not dead. Then his dad had been there, concerned about him and...and...and Peter smiles back at his Uncle Rhodey and follows him through a few more stretches before it's time to go back with May. He hasn't really seen his dad since he woke up but he isn't really ready to talk about it either.
He must lose track of time just sitting and thinking because May finds him sitting in his temporary wheelchair in the PT room, watching Rhodey pick up mats and put them away.
“How’re you feeling, kiddo?” she asks once she’s stepped into the room, running a hand through his hair.
“Sore.” He smiles up at her and she looks happy, but only moments from tears. He glances around for something to say when his eyes land on Rhodey. “Hey May, you know Colonel Rhodes, don't you?”
“I'm familiar with the name, yes.”
“He's dad’s best friend,” he says without a reason to be quiet about who his father is for once. It's both freeing and terrifying, finally owning up to a secret he’d never really decided to keep. “They went to MIT together. He's been helping me with my physical therapy stuff.”
“Well thank you, Colonel Rhodes,” May says, polite as ever.
“Please, just call me Rhodey.”
They only talk for a little while longer before Peter yawns and his stomach growls and May is pulling him away for take out.
“He's a good kid, ma’am,” says Rhodey, and when her face scrunches up at the word ma’am he laughs but doesn't take it back. “You've done a great job raising him.”
She looks down at Peter still sitting in his wheelchair and smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I had plenty of help,” she starts before turning the full effect of her friendliest smile onto Rhodey as well, “I still do.” Peter's stomach lets out another groan and she laughs. “It was nice meeting you, Rhodey, but I have to go feed a spiderling.”
Peter groans at that. “You sound like Dad.”
“Impossible!” jokes May as she rolls him out of the PT room and upstairs to where they've been moved in until Peter can get around a little better, and as soon as they're back on their floor, she's off to find a menu and order food from their favorite Thai place.
They're sitting on the couch waiting for the food with a music channel playing on the TV while May crochets what Peter assumes could either be a sweater, a scarf, or a bikini for a giant. He wants to laugh but it's still hard to work up that energy when his Spidey Sense has been going crazy since he died. Because he’d finally asked someone what happened and Uncle Rhodey had said that it was true. He’d died. Half the population did.
Nothing has really changed. It was 9 months at the most, and a couple weeks unconscious after that, but… He shakes his head. He's been thinking about it a little too much and he knows it, but if he opens his mouth to talk about it with May or Happy or anybody, he knows what’ll come out. It’ll be a pity fest of never growing up with his parents or not being able to save Ben, or his dad taking the suit. All the thoughts that tell him he isn't good enough. Has never been good enough. That he isn't worth the effort.
“Peter?” May says when he's out for too long. He opens his mouth to tell her he’s fine but he can't. He blurts out the conversation he's been avoiding for at least the last couple of weeks.
“You told Dad.” He doesn't know what makes him say it, but it's out in the open before he can suck the words back in and choke them down forever.
“He deserved to know.”
“He's busy. He owns a company; he’s Iron Man! He doesn't have time for ‘Puny’ Peter Parker.” That feeling is in his chest again. Not being good enough. He can feel the building weighing on his back and crumbling around him. He can feel himself dying all over again. He remembers begging his father for his suit, the conversation still echoing in his head.
I just wanted to be like you.
And I wanted you to be better.
He's trying not to cry in front of May. Not about this.
“At first, I thought he had figured it out before because when he came back without you, Pete, he was wrecked. I came looking for you and he cried . He needed some type of reassurance that he could get you back and you wouldn't absolutely hate him.”
“But it's just worse now!” says Peter as the first tear falls. “Before I was j-just some kid from Queens to him. I could accept that he had other th-things going on and he had no reason to make time for me, or— or care. But now he knows and I haven't seen him since I first woke up in MedBay. We live in the same building with him and he doesn't even want to see me.”
“That's not true.”
“Then where is he!?”
Her mouth clicks shut and Peter looks down at his hands where they’re clenched into fists, his nails biting into the meat of his palms.
“I'm sorry, May. I shouldn't have yelled.” And he hadn't really meant to, but it's too late for that. She doesn't respond and all he wants to do now is get away. “I uh... I’m gonna lie down ‘til the food gets here, okay?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I can get back in the chair fine enough on my own.”
She doesn't force him to stay or ask him questions or tell him he's being a brat, she just lets him roll into the room he's been sleeping in (but he still can't seem to call his ) and gives him time to figure it all out. He knows she's out there when he needs it but she isn't going to force it. Not with this. He's extremely grateful to have her.
By the time Peter's enhanced senses start to smell Thai food in the building they've also picked up the smell of his dad's cologne and oil cleaner from being up in the workshop. Peter figures out what's happening as it happens and he's glad he's in the room when he can hear the elevator start coming closer and closer to his and May's current floor. He's not sure he can deal with Tony after the facedown he’s just had with her.
He wasn't lying when he said he could get back in the chair by himself, but once the elevator doors open and the smell of Thai and cologne is louder than his Dad's heartbeat in the hall, he doesn't think he's strong enough to even pull himself together to look in that direction. He wants to, but he’s terrified. The knock on the door lets him know that May isn't letting him out of dinner. He’s both relieved and tense all at once.
“C'mon, sweetie, foods here.”
He doesn't have to wonder why she doesn't say anything about Tony when he hears the elevator opening again. Time barely moves as he climbs into the chair and throws his door open frantically, but his Dad's still gone by the time he makes it out of the room and he wishes he could punch his legs back into order. He’d thought there’d be some kind of acknowledgment for him to pretend to ignore, not this complete disregard. His lip trembles.
“I thought I heard—”
“You did,” she says as she stands in the kitchen, fixing Peter's plate. “He brought the food up. Said he didn't want to force us to go down or have the delivery guy come all the way up if you weren't feeling up to company yet.”
“He could have stayed.”
“He just wants to give you some space.”
“I'm tired of space. I've had enough space!”
Peter rolls his chair towards the elevator, slamming his hand on the button hard enough to break it once he gets there.
“Peter!” May is behind him trying to roll him back towards the dining room where he’ll pretend like he isn't heartbroken and angry and she'll pretend not to notice. He's tired of playing that game.
“I need to talk to him!”
“You need to eat,” she argues finally, snatching his chair back from where he was trying to lock it in front of the sliding doors. If he grips the wheels any tighter he’ll ruin his only means of transportation and she takes that as her chance to roll him away.
They eat in silence. There's no pretending. It still hurts.
***
Ned comes over and Peter cries. He's not sure what sets him off. It could be the thought that they were both dead a month ago or that under different circumstances they could have been seniors in a few months, but have instead lost almost a year of their lives because they’d died . When he blinks, Peter realizes that Ned is crying too.
They don't really talk about anything, still adjusting to being back and trying to figure out what movies have come out and what songs are on the radio. They try to build a Lego model battleship or cruiser or something, but it's not the same when Peter can barely use his legs and has to hand Ned pieces or point them out from his seat up in his wheelchair. And it feels weird to think about having to move it to the dining room table just for him. They’d never had to do that before . He insists they stay in the room, promising Ned that it’s fine even if it isn’t.
After a few hours, they hug and cry some more before Ned has to go back home and Peter has had enough . More than enough, if he's being completely candid. And after he sees Ned off downstairs, he gets in the elevator and immediately asks FRIDAY to take him to his dad.
He doesn't care what floor he's on or if he's in a meeting or if he's working, he needs to see him now .
The ride there is longer than he expects. He thought he’d be let out in the lab or maybe the penthouse, but as he comes out on a random floor full of glass walls and large tables he realizes that his dad may actually be in a meeting for once. He’s halfway down the hall and although his Spidey powers have been working double-time to heal him and help build his body weight back up, he’s still too tired to turn around now. Another part of him knows that if he leaves now he won’t be able to build himself up to try again.
“Hey, FRIDAY?”
Yes, Peter? chimes the sweet computerized voice from above.
“Uh…where’s my dad?”
Boss is in room 1304.
“I-is he busy?”
Anything is to be put on hold for you in accordance with the Baby Monitor protocol. Would you like me to lead you to him, Peter?
“Yes,” Peter says softly and he doesn’t protest when she directs him down the hallway past a few more doorways before he catches a glimpse of his dad’s goatee sat at the end of a large glass table, surrounded by chairs and other people Peter can’t quite focus on. He hasn’t seen his dad properly since he’s woken up and something about it brings him to tears. He catches the man’s gaze somehow and within seconds Tony Stark is removing his shades and rushing out of the door to talk to him.
“Peter?” he says, standing partially concealed by the door, but looking like he could leave in a second if Peter really needs him. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
Peter doesn’t realize he’s standing until he’s already forcing himself to take a step towards his dad. It takes herculean effort to lift his legs and move them from one place to another, especially at the pace he’s moving. Thanks to his powers and his father’s shock, he is just fast enough to make it to Tony before his legs give out, but even after training so much, he’s winded from those few steps. He grips the front of his dad’s blazer, using it to keep himself upright.
“Ar-are you mad at me?” Peter wheezes out. After exerting himself so much, he can’t catch his breath but seeing his dad here in person helps, being able to hear his dad’s irregular heartbeat up close and not through walls and locked doors, is doing wonders for calming his own trembling heart. “Do y-you hate me?”
Tony lifts him as best he can while also dragging him back towards his wheelchair and forcing him down into it then dropping to his knees almost immediately so that he has to look up at Peter instead, even in the chair.
“No. No no no, Pete. I’m not mad at you and I could never hate you.” Tony has a hand on his back as he stares into his eyes. “Can you just breathe for me?”
“You never came to see me again so I thought…” Peter shakes his head as he sucks in another breath. “...and I-I’m sorry you found out a-and I’m sorry that I disappeared and—”
“Oh god, no. You don’t have to apologize. The disappearing thing is not your fault. Okay? And I’m glad I get to call a kid like you mine, I just don’t want to mess you up. That is on me, okay? Not on you. Never on you.” Tony pulls him into a hug, holding him while his heart rate and breathing finally mellow out.
“So you don’t hate me?”
“Of course not.”
“And you aren’t mad at me?”
“Nothing to be mad about.”
“B-but…” Peter is trying his hardest to make sense of it all. There has to be a reason Tony hadn’t gone to see him even after weeks without contact but he can’t seem to get it to add up. “But you haven’t come to see me…?” he says, though he knows it sounds more like a question.
“I didn’t think you wanted to see me. You were recovering and it’s my fault we didn’t stop that big purple ape sooner.”
“No— Dad, you did your best!” Peter says without much thought. When he stops talking he realizes that Tony is stock still, looking up at him with brown eyes that mirror his own. He shakes his head immediately as if he could clear his words from the air around them before looking away completely. “I— I’m sorry. I meant Mr. Stark. Seriously, you did your best, Mr. Stark .”
“Peter,” says Tony, sounding gutted. “Pete...kid, look at me. Please.”
Their eyes meet again and Peter watches as his dad breaks. The tears rolling down his cheeks freely. Peter can’t remember ever watching his dad cry and it scares him.
“Mr. Stark!”
“You don’t have to apologize for calling me that,” he says, still sounding broken. “For calling me your dad. Never apologize for that.”
Peter squeezes his eyes shut and lets the tears finally fall as he and his dad hold onto each other. He feels safe for the first time in... he can’t remember how long, and it’s enough for the exhaustion to finally pull him under. He thinks that maybe it's the first good night of rest he’s had since he's been back, but he knows it won't be the last