Tony Stark (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} notyourplayboy) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} somerealityrpg,@ 2019-08-09 10:53:00 |
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| Current mood: |  discontent |
| Entry tags: | active: peter parker, active: tony stark |
Tony & Peter
WHO: Tony Stark & Peter Parker
WHAT: Chatting about inner demons.
WHEN: Backdated to Tuesday night.
STATUS: Completed via GDOC.
WARNINGS: Some language
Tony felt relieved he didn’t get too close to a creature while patrolling the area over the last few days. He experienced enough nightmares and sleepless nights without a monster’s help. He did, however, feel terrible for those who crossed paths with the creatures before they left Goodland. He felt guilty too, like Iron Man should have been able to fight them or seen them coming, but Tony was quickly realizing the “jubilant entity” defied most, if not all, scientific laws. He wasn’t even sure the entity was to blame. What if it was simply doing magic it didn’t understand? Magic or science or some combination? Tony actually feared a joyful idiot more than a vicious villain --- villainous goals were at least straightforward.
However, at least in the short term, the monsters were gone. No one in Goodland knew why or how, but the entity announced their departure earlier that day. Did the portal do the trick? Was it dumb luck? Whatever the case, they were gone. Still, Tony could not rest. His body, physically exhausted, forced him into a few fitful hours of sleep, but he woke late that night knowing he was up for good. He didn’t want to bother his family so he slipped out of the apartment and headed for the roof. He missed having a lab on property and briefly considered heading to Stark Industries, but quickly decided against leaving his family so soon after the attack. He’d make do with the roof. He just hoped no one else was there.
At first, Peter hadn’t slept because he’d been trying to do something all day Saturday and into Sunday. He’d taken a few naps with Tesla, and he’d done his best to listen to Tony, only really deviating when he’d spoken with James about a plan to freeze the creatures -- a plan that didn’t really work. But by some time between Sunday night and Monday morning (the lack of sun had made it hard to tell if it was day or night, even with Karen’s help), part of him was just tired. He hadn’t been sure if it was being awake so long, the oppressive misery hanging over the city, or both. Regardless, he’d been just a little too unfocused, only barely noticing when he’d stumbled across one of those creatures on his way back to the apartment.
After, he couldn’t sleep because whenever he had tried, he kept seeing things, hearing things. May and Ned. Tony and MJ. Friends he’d made here. Ben. It all just kept playing in his head, over and over again. He’d spent most of Monday in the apartment, letting others handle the situation, which made him feel worse. But what could he do? He was just a kid, and all he could do was stick to things. So he’d kept busy during the day, letting himself try to sleep with Tesla curled up next to him, pretending as best he could that everything had been fine.
And now? Now he was on the roof, because it finally felt less suffocating outside. The reprieve from the heat had been nice at first, but, just then, he was fine with the August warmth. He was fine sitting on the edge of the small wall around the roof, looking out over a city that had just recently been plagued by otherworldly beings. It should have been something he was used to, but he wasn’t. Not when they could show him things he didn’t even really know he feared. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing at them in an attempt to ease away some of the ache from his lack of sleep. Soon, he told himself. He’d go back inside soon.
Tony climbed the steps leading to the roof, stopping only to peer out the entrance window. He didn’t notice anyone so he stepped through the door and took a minute to let out a deep breath. He was glad to be in regular clothing, although he could call his suit within seconds. Iron Man wasn’t Tony Stark; he got caught up in the identity early on, but the appeal wore off as the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders. Iron Man was a penance, a blessing, and a curse rolled into one armoured suit. He’d nearly let his guard down in Goodland, but that had been a mistake. He was just glad his delusion didn’t cloud his judgment; he had Iron Man ready to go. However, Tony’s bad memories flooded him the moment he stepped back in that suit. And now? They were hard to shake. He also couldn’t help worrying about his loved ones vanishing with no warning. Heck, James wanted to leave. Tony couldn’t bear the idea of losing Pepper or the kids, but he couldn’t blame them for wanting to go home. It wasn’t their fault he didn’t have anything to return home to --- it was his fault. Still, even the idea of losing them hurt. He already lost Peter once; he didn’t want to go through it again. Selfish, wasn’t it? The kid had a family in New York. Friends. School. College applications. Then again, Tony Stark was selfish; didn’t most everyone still think that? Didn’t he think that?
His breathing became deeper and more erratic as his mind went places it should not, but he thought of Rhodey and how he calmed him during previous panic attacks. He gained control of himself and moved closer to the flowers Hannah planted. He wondered who would take care of the garden in her absence.
Tony inhaled the scent, which grounded him in the moment and chased the panicky feeling away. He turned away from the garden and crossed past the door he used moments earlier. It was only once he was on the other side of the roof that he finally noticed a shadow sitting on a wall. He approached, but was ready to summon his suit quickly.
It wasn’t that strange sort of sixth sense he sometimes noticed that alerted him to someone else on the roof but the noise; breathing and footsteps. It wasn’t like the city was especially quiet, but the sounds were closer than the normal city noises that seemed to accompany any version of Manhattan in any reality. Very, very briefly he thought about pushing himself off the ledge and swinging away, but Peter didn’t want whoever might be up there to think he’d jumped for different reasons than wanting to be alone. He didn’t need that on his conscience, too.
Dropping his hands, Peter twisted around, throwing his leg over the wall to straddle it. He had no idea what he was going to say to whoever had come up here, or what he was going to do, but he figured he’d probably make up an excuse about how he was just heading to bed. And then he saw who it was, saw Tony approaching, and he felt a bit like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.
“Hi,” he said, feeling just a little bit sheepish. He probably should have been in bed; instead he was sitting on the roof, trying very hard not to feel sorry for himself. And he’d been caught. It made him wonder, briefly, if Tony really would ground him for sneaking out, even if he was still technically on the apartment’s property.
Tony did raise his eyebrows at Peter being on the roof, but he wasn’t angry. It had been a hard few days for everyone and it is not like the kid was doing anything bad. “Hey, you,” he replied. Peter’s presence immediately calmed Tony; his family was safe and intact even after the monsters and various disappearances. He mentioned to James that he realized he couldn’t keep them all safe behind an armored wall, but he still worried about losing them. He worried about it in his reality and it seemed even more tenuous with such uncertainty in Goodland. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he added. His voice was low and gentle, something that was becoming more natural to him the more he dealt with the kids. He propped his elbows on the ledge next to Peter as he reclined against it, his back toward the city streets. “I won’t tell Pepper. I’m pretty sure she still wants to ground you and James for life.” And Tony, but he didn’t add that bit.
It was strange, going from having one person care about you to having quite a few. He’d been there over a month, and part of him was still adjusting, still trying to figure out how to work around these other people. He’d spent nearly all of his life with May. He knew how to live with her. But Tony and MJ and Pepper? He was still trying to figure out the intricacies of it all, and it was hard. The thought of Pepper wanting to ground him just made it harder, though Peter thought he might deserve it. After all, he was pretty sure it was at least partially his fault Tony would eventually die.
His chest clenched briefly at the memory of those visions, and he resisted the urge to shake his head in an attempt to clear his head. Instead, he gave the man a small smile and said, “I didn’t mean to worry her if I did. I just wanted to help.” In the end, had he even done that? Or has he simply been some dumb kid playing dress up in a high tech suit? He pulled one knee up, wrapped his arms around his leg, and rested his chin on his knee, looking back out at the city.
Tony chuckled. “Don’t worry, kid, she is well used to me giving her a heart attack.” He shifted positions so that his hip leaned against the wall and so that he could look at Peter. Well, Peter’s profile anyway. “And you were with me most of the time. I wouldn’t let anything…” He stopped short, remembering he did let something happen to him once. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “I’d certainly try to keep you safe, kid.”
Peter looked over at Tony as he spoke, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Tony tried to protect so many people, who protected him? Certainly not Peter. He knew that even without knowing the details. His imagination could supply the details easily enough, and it had, forcing him to relive something he had experienced again and again with all the people he cared about, reminding him that he wasn’t good enough.
“How do you do it,” he asked quietly, not entirely sure what he was actually asking. “How do you…” He waved a hand vaguely out at the city, then wrapped it back around his leg.
“How do you know you’re doing the right thing for the right reasons?” he settled on, resisting the urge to look away. He felt so stupid asking that, like the answer should be obvious, but everything was turned upside down and thrown out a window just then, and he couldn’t be sure of anything at that moment.
Tony’s forehead scrunched as he considered Peter’s question. Where had it come from? “Here or…?” He trailed off when he realized the question remained the same wherever one found himself. “Asking the big questions tonight, huh, Pete?” His tone was light, but his face showed he took the boy seriously. “Ah, hell, kid, since Afghanistan I mostly try to do things that help, rather than harm, you know?” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, sometimes even that isn’t enough. And why do we do anything? I mean, we do things because we love people or because we need to survive or because one thing is better than the alternative.” He flicked his hands palms up in a “who knows” gesture. “The right reason can be good for you or it could be for people you love or for a job...that term…’right’...I mean, it is so subjective. Your right reason might not be my right reason, hm? And…” He exhaled a deep breath.
“Sometimes the right reason is hard and leads to not so great consequences, but is still right.” He said a lot, but he didn’t think he said anything at all. Did he answer the question? Could it be answered? “Kid, I second guess a whole lot in my life, buuuuuuut people much better than me say that is the first step to actually maybe possibly getting shit right, yeah? And, sometimes? The wrong reasons can lead to pretty decent outcomes too. So, basically, a crapshoot.” His tone turned light again although his eyes showed concern. “What’s going on, kiddo?” He asked as he briefly patted Peter’s back. “Talk to me.”
He couldn’t tell if that was the answer he was looking for, but, then again, Peter hadn’t known what he was looking for when he’d asked the question. Was he trying for reassurance or an actual answer? Or was he talking to fill the silence, to drown out his thoughts and distract himself. It was hard to tell, and a part of him wished he’d stayed in his bedroom. Or had gone elsewhere, especially when Tony attempted to prompt him to talk.
Did he want to talk? Could he even begin to tell Tony what was going on? Part of him knew how stupid it was to get hung up on a hallucination, to let fear have any power. He sat there, trying to gather his thoughts, letting the silence stretch while he worked on finding a way to articulate what was going on.
“I ran across one of those creatures,” he said slowly, quietly, looking down at his shoe. With one hand, he fussed with the laces. “The things they show you are… pretty crappy.” To say the least. “And it just…” He shrugged, still fussing with his shoelace. “I guess it just got to me. That’s all.”
“What? When? Why were you out there alone?” Tony reminded himself to relax when he heard the frustration creeping into his words. He meant what he told Peter about regretting losing his temper over the ferry. He didn’t want that to happen again. “Pete,” he said much more gently, “Alright, it is alright.” He covered Peter’s fidgeting hand with his own. “Hey, of course it got to you. Bud, those fears...they fuck with your mind.” He knew he was lucky to avoid the creatures, but he also knew what it felt like when someone manipulated your mind and the nightmares that followed. He hated that Peter might face the same sleepless nights he did. “Want to tell me about it?” He squeezed Peter’s hand. Tony wasn’t one for sharing his thoughts so he was trying not to push although he thought it might help the kid to share his experience.
Peter flinched a little, remembering when Tony had (perhaps rightfully) yelled at him about his stupidity over the ferry and Vulture, those memories overlapping with the vision or hallucination or whatever it was from Monday -- of a Tony who wasn’t his Tony telling him it had been a mistake to choose him, that he wasn’t good enough to call himself a hero. He would just get people hurt, people killed, like he’d gotten him killed, the vision had said. He shook his head a little bit as he listened, looking at Tony’s hand over his.
He didn’t want to talk about it, but he also didn’t not want to talk about it. It was too complicated to think about, but, after a few seconds, he quietly spoke.
“People knew who I was, kind of like here, but they knew it was all fake, that I’m just some kid in a costume pretending to be something I’m not. And that--” He swallowed, still not wanting to look up. “It got people killed. May and Ned, MJ and you. My uncle Ben…” He took a shaky breath. “You were all so disappointed… I know I said that when bad things happen, and you don’t do anything but you can, they happen because of you, but the bad things happened despite doing something. The bad things happened because I wasn’t good enough,” he said, voice trailing off.
Tony noticed the flinch and chided himself for causing it, but didn’t comment. He took his cue from Peter, neither pushing nor abandoning, simply waiting to see what Pete needed him to do. His chest tightened when Peter described his vision with his shaky voice betraying how hard it was for him to discuss. “Kid,” he said softly. Tony wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to make Peter feel better, but he had to try. “Alright, look at me, okay?” He placed his hands on Peter’s cheeks, hoping the teen would turn to him.
“It is fucking hard. I am not going to lie, okay? It is hard without having the abilities you do, never mind with them. Why do you think I’m up here right now, hm? I know what it feels like to have those visions and how panicky they make you and how much you just want to wrap the people you love close and never let them go...how you never want to disappoint them and how you think maybe, just maybe, they’re better off not knowing you.” Tony’s eyes glistened, but he blinked hard. His tears weren’t for himself, but for a young man who didn’t deserve to feel that sort of responsibility and uncertainty.
“But you know what? So long as you do the best you can with the most honest of intentions, you will never disappoint anyone. And you sure as hell are more than some kid in a costume.” He smiled even as he blinked back more tears. “By the way, call that suit a costume again and you are not leaving the house for a month,” he joked. He traced his thumbs against Peter’s cheeks. “Bad things will happen,” he continued. “And they will suck. I am so sorry for that, but really good things will happen too. And you know what? That is life. That is not on you. All you can do? Is be the absolute best kid you can.” He chuckled. “Best man, really. I can’t believe you are already going to be 17.” He felt like he was rambling again and only hoped something he said made Pete feel at least a bit better.
Peter’s gaze shifted from his shoe to Tony when he felt the man’s hands on his cheeks, his head lifting a little. Quietly he listened, taking in the man’s words. Honestly, he hadn’t thought too much about why Tony was up there, which made him, briefly, feel bad. He supposed he’d thought that, for whatever reason, the man had needed some air, maybe couldn’t sleep. He may not have known everything there was to know about Tony Stark, but Peter wasn’t so self-involved that he hadn’t noticed some of his sleeping habits, or lack thereof at times. Although the apartment was way bigger than any he’d lived in back in his own world, it was still small enough that he did notice things. Not to mention enhanced senses weren’t always a blessing.
Although he didn’t find the words uplifting in the traditional sense, he appreciated that Tony wasn't really sugar coating anything for him, either. If he’d told Peter everything would be fine, he doubted he’d believe him. And he wondered if he’d ever open up again. Adults did that a lot, and he kind of understood why, but that didn’t mean he thought it was the right way to handle everything. It was one thing to give hope by being optimistic, but he noticed mostly adults did it in a way that invalidated the feelings. Why else keep secrets?
He let out a little huff of a laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging up a little at the comment about grounding him if he called his suit a costume again. That, at least, seemed to break some of the tension in his stomach, leaving just enough room to not know how he felt about about the idea of turning seventeen, especially in a strange reality.
A moment later, he said, “Thank you.” Tony’s words didn’t erase or completely soothe his feelings, but they’d helped. Knowing someone else -- especially someone he looked up to -- might feel similarly… It really did help, even if he couldn’t immediately shake the feelings that creature had left him with.
Tony appreciated Peter’s small laugh. He, of all people, knew such emotions were heavy and complicated. He didn’t expect the kid to feel better right away, but he took it as a sign that Peter would be okay. Tony knew he couldn’t protect him from everything as much as he wanted to, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try his hardest to keep the boy safe and happy.
“Sure,” he replied. He took a step away from the wall, this time holding an arm out to help Peter down if he wanted. He knew the kid didn’t actually need the help, but that wasn’t the point. “Want to go watch bad television until we fall asleep?”
He might not have needed the help, but as he unfurled himself from his perch on the wall, Peter took the offered hand. “That sounds good,” he said, slipping down off the wall. He gave Tony a little smile. “Maybe one of those cooking or baking shows.” Why he suggested a baking show, he didn’t know. It was just the first thing that had popped into his head. And maybe, with all the cooking and baking, it could be an easy distraction. Kitchen drama never seemed as bad as other dramas. And there was an odd sort of science to cooking and baking that he liked. He wasn’t amazing at cooking, and his cookie decorating skills left something to be desired, but he understood it.
“Or maybe Mystery Science 3000,” he added as an afterthought. That was always a good time in his book. “Either or.” And he meant it. Either would be fine with him, no doubt providing a better distraction than sitting on the roof and trying to ignore his thoughts.
However, at least in the short term, the monsters were gone. No one in Goodland knew why or how, but the entity announced their departure earlier that day. Did the portal do the trick? Was it dumb luck? Whatever the case, they were gone. Still, Tony could not rest. His body, physically exhausted, forced him into a few fitful hours of sleep, but he woke late that night knowing he was up for good. He didn’t want to bother his family so he slipped out of the apartment and headed for the roof. He missed having a lab on property and briefly considered heading to Stark Industries, but quickly decided against leaving his family so soon after the attack. He’d make do with the roof. He just hoped no one else was there.
At first, Peter hadn’t slept because he’d been trying to do something all day Saturday and into Sunday. He’d taken a few naps with Tesla, and he’d done his best to listen to Tony, only really deviating when he’d spoken with James about a plan to freeze the creatures -- a plan that didn’t really work. But by some time between Sunday night and Monday morning (the lack of sun had made it hard to tell if it was day or night, even with Karen’s help), part of him was just tired. He hadn’t been sure if it was being awake so long, the oppressive misery hanging over the city, or both. Regardless, he’d been just a little too unfocused, only barely noticing when he’d stumbled across one of those creatures on his way back to the apartment.
After, he couldn’t sleep because whenever he had tried, he kept seeing things, hearing things. May and Ned. Tony and MJ. Friends he’d made here. Ben. It all just kept playing in his head, over and over again. He’d spent most of Monday in the apartment, letting others handle the situation, which made him feel worse. But what could he do? He was just a kid, and all he could do was stick to things. So he’d kept busy during the day, letting himself try to sleep with Tesla curled up next to him, pretending as best he could that everything had been fine.
And now? Now he was on the roof, because it finally felt less suffocating outside. The reprieve from the heat had been nice at first, but, just then, he was fine with the August warmth. He was fine sitting on the edge of the small wall around the roof, looking out over a city that had just recently been plagued by otherworldly beings. It should have been something he was used to, but he wasn’t. Not when they could show him things he didn’t even really know he feared. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing at them in an attempt to ease away some of the ache from his lack of sleep. Soon, he told himself. He’d go back inside soon.
Tony climbed the steps leading to the roof, stopping only to peer out the entrance window. He didn’t notice anyone so he stepped through the door and took a minute to let out a deep breath. He was glad to be in regular clothing, although he could call his suit within seconds. Iron Man wasn’t Tony Stark; he got caught up in the identity early on, but the appeal wore off as the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders. Iron Man was a penance, a blessing, and a curse rolled into one armoured suit. He’d nearly let his guard down in Goodland, but that had been a mistake. He was just glad his delusion didn’t cloud his judgment; he had Iron Man ready to go. However, Tony’s bad memories flooded him the moment he stepped back in that suit. And now? They were hard to shake. He also couldn’t help worrying about his loved ones vanishing with no warning. Heck, James wanted to leave. Tony couldn’t bear the idea of losing Pepper or the kids, but he couldn’t blame them for wanting to go home. It wasn’t their fault he didn’t have anything to return home to --- it was his fault. Still, even the idea of losing them hurt. He already lost Peter once; he didn’t want to go through it again. Selfish, wasn’t it? The kid had a family in New York. Friends. School. College applications. Then again, Tony Stark was selfish; didn’t most everyone still think that? Didn’t he think that?
His breathing became deeper and more erratic as his mind went places it should not, but he thought of Rhodey and how he calmed him during previous panic attacks. He gained control of himself and moved closer to the flowers Hannah planted. He wondered who would take care of the garden in her absence.
Tony inhaled the scent, which grounded him in the moment and chased the panicky feeling away. He turned away from the garden and crossed past the door he used moments earlier. It was only once he was on the other side of the roof that he finally noticed a shadow sitting on a wall. He approached, but was ready to summon his suit quickly.
It wasn’t that strange sort of sixth sense he sometimes noticed that alerted him to someone else on the roof but the noise; breathing and footsteps. It wasn’t like the city was especially quiet, but the sounds were closer than the normal city noises that seemed to accompany any version of Manhattan in any reality. Very, very briefly he thought about pushing himself off the ledge and swinging away, but Peter didn’t want whoever might be up there to think he’d jumped for different reasons than wanting to be alone. He didn’t need that on his conscience, too.
Dropping his hands, Peter twisted around, throwing his leg over the wall to straddle it. He had no idea what he was going to say to whoever had come up here, or what he was going to do, but he figured he’d probably make up an excuse about how he was just heading to bed. And then he saw who it was, saw Tony approaching, and he felt a bit like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.
“Hi,” he said, feeling just a little bit sheepish. He probably should have been in bed; instead he was sitting on the roof, trying very hard not to feel sorry for himself. And he’d been caught. It made him wonder, briefly, if Tony really would ground him for sneaking out, even if he was still technically on the apartment’s property.
Tony did raise his eyebrows at Peter being on the roof, but he wasn’t angry. It had been a hard few days for everyone and it is not like the kid was doing anything bad. “Hey, you,” he replied. Peter’s presence immediately calmed Tony; his family was safe and intact even after the monsters and various disappearances. He mentioned to James that he realized he couldn’t keep them all safe behind an armored wall, but he still worried about losing them. He worried about it in his reality and it seemed even more tenuous with such uncertainty in Goodland. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he added. His voice was low and gentle, something that was becoming more natural to him the more he dealt with the kids. He propped his elbows on the ledge next to Peter as he reclined against it, his back toward the city streets. “I won’t tell Pepper. I’m pretty sure she still wants to ground you and James for life.” And Tony, but he didn’t add that bit.
It was strange, going from having one person care about you to having quite a few. He’d been there over a month, and part of him was still adjusting, still trying to figure out how to work around these other people. He’d spent nearly all of his life with May. He knew how to live with her. But Tony and MJ and Pepper? He was still trying to figure out the intricacies of it all, and it was hard. The thought of Pepper wanting to ground him just made it harder, though Peter thought he might deserve it. After all, he was pretty sure it was at least partially his fault Tony would eventually die.
His chest clenched briefly at the memory of those visions, and he resisted the urge to shake his head in an attempt to clear his head. Instead, he gave the man a small smile and said, “I didn’t mean to worry her if I did. I just wanted to help.” In the end, had he even done that? Or has he simply been some dumb kid playing dress up in a high tech suit? He pulled one knee up, wrapped his arms around his leg, and rested his chin on his knee, looking back out at the city.
Tony chuckled. “Don’t worry, kid, she is well used to me giving her a heart attack.” He shifted positions so that his hip leaned against the wall and so that he could look at Peter. Well, Peter’s profile anyway. “And you were with me most of the time. I wouldn’t let anything…” He stopped short, remembering he did let something happen to him once. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “I’d certainly try to keep you safe, kid.”
Peter looked over at Tony as he spoke, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Tony tried to protect so many people, who protected him? Certainly not Peter. He knew that even without knowing the details. His imagination could supply the details easily enough, and it had, forcing him to relive something he had experienced again and again with all the people he cared about, reminding him that he wasn’t good enough.
“How do you do it,” he asked quietly, not entirely sure what he was actually asking. “How do you…” He waved a hand vaguely out at the city, then wrapped it back around his leg.
“How do you know you’re doing the right thing for the right reasons?” he settled on, resisting the urge to look away. He felt so stupid asking that, like the answer should be obvious, but everything was turned upside down and thrown out a window just then, and he couldn’t be sure of anything at that moment.
Tony’s forehead scrunched as he considered Peter’s question. Where had it come from? “Here or…?” He trailed off when he realized the question remained the same wherever one found himself. “Asking the big questions tonight, huh, Pete?” His tone was light, but his face showed he took the boy seriously. “Ah, hell, kid, since Afghanistan I mostly try to do things that help, rather than harm, you know?” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, sometimes even that isn’t enough. And why do we do anything? I mean, we do things because we love people or because we need to survive or because one thing is better than the alternative.” He flicked his hands palms up in a “who knows” gesture. “The right reason can be good for you or it could be for people you love or for a job...that term…’right’...I mean, it is so subjective. Your right reason might not be my right reason, hm? And…” He exhaled a deep breath.
“Sometimes the right reason is hard and leads to not so great consequences, but is still right.” He said a lot, but he didn’t think he said anything at all. Did he answer the question? Could it be answered? “Kid, I second guess a whole lot in my life, buuuuuuut people much better than me say that is the first step to actually maybe possibly getting shit right, yeah? And, sometimes? The wrong reasons can lead to pretty decent outcomes too. So, basically, a crapshoot.” His tone turned light again although his eyes showed concern. “What’s going on, kiddo?” He asked as he briefly patted Peter’s back. “Talk to me.”
He couldn’t tell if that was the answer he was looking for, but, then again, Peter hadn’t known what he was looking for when he’d asked the question. Was he trying for reassurance or an actual answer? Or was he talking to fill the silence, to drown out his thoughts and distract himself. It was hard to tell, and a part of him wished he’d stayed in his bedroom. Or had gone elsewhere, especially when Tony attempted to prompt him to talk.
Did he want to talk? Could he even begin to tell Tony what was going on? Part of him knew how stupid it was to get hung up on a hallucination, to let fear have any power. He sat there, trying to gather his thoughts, letting the silence stretch while he worked on finding a way to articulate what was going on.
“I ran across one of those creatures,” he said slowly, quietly, looking down at his shoe. With one hand, he fussed with the laces. “The things they show you are… pretty crappy.” To say the least. “And it just…” He shrugged, still fussing with his shoelace. “I guess it just got to me. That’s all.”
“What? When? Why were you out there alone?” Tony reminded himself to relax when he heard the frustration creeping into his words. He meant what he told Peter about regretting losing his temper over the ferry. He didn’t want that to happen again. “Pete,” he said much more gently, “Alright, it is alright.” He covered Peter’s fidgeting hand with his own. “Hey, of course it got to you. Bud, those fears...they fuck with your mind.” He knew he was lucky to avoid the creatures, but he also knew what it felt like when someone manipulated your mind and the nightmares that followed. He hated that Peter might face the same sleepless nights he did. “Want to tell me about it?” He squeezed Peter’s hand. Tony wasn’t one for sharing his thoughts so he was trying not to push although he thought it might help the kid to share his experience.
Peter flinched a little, remembering when Tony had (perhaps rightfully) yelled at him about his stupidity over the ferry and Vulture, those memories overlapping with the vision or hallucination or whatever it was from Monday -- of a Tony who wasn’t his Tony telling him it had been a mistake to choose him, that he wasn’t good enough to call himself a hero. He would just get people hurt, people killed, like he’d gotten him killed, the vision had said. He shook his head a little bit as he listened, looking at Tony’s hand over his.
He didn’t want to talk about it, but he also didn’t not want to talk about it. It was too complicated to think about, but, after a few seconds, he quietly spoke.
“People knew who I was, kind of like here, but they knew it was all fake, that I’m just some kid in a costume pretending to be something I’m not. And that--” He swallowed, still not wanting to look up. “It got people killed. May and Ned, MJ and you. My uncle Ben…” He took a shaky breath. “You were all so disappointed… I know I said that when bad things happen, and you don’t do anything but you can, they happen because of you, but the bad things happened despite doing something. The bad things happened because I wasn’t good enough,” he said, voice trailing off.
Tony noticed the flinch and chided himself for causing it, but didn’t comment. He took his cue from Peter, neither pushing nor abandoning, simply waiting to see what Pete needed him to do. His chest tightened when Peter described his vision with his shaky voice betraying how hard it was for him to discuss. “Kid,” he said softly. Tony wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to make Peter feel better, but he had to try. “Alright, look at me, okay?” He placed his hands on Peter’s cheeks, hoping the teen would turn to him.
“It is fucking hard. I am not going to lie, okay? It is hard without having the abilities you do, never mind with them. Why do you think I’m up here right now, hm? I know what it feels like to have those visions and how panicky they make you and how much you just want to wrap the people you love close and never let them go...how you never want to disappoint them and how you think maybe, just maybe, they’re better off not knowing you.” Tony’s eyes glistened, but he blinked hard. His tears weren’t for himself, but for a young man who didn’t deserve to feel that sort of responsibility and uncertainty.
“But you know what? So long as you do the best you can with the most honest of intentions, you will never disappoint anyone. And you sure as hell are more than some kid in a costume.” He smiled even as he blinked back more tears. “By the way, call that suit a costume again and you are not leaving the house for a month,” he joked. He traced his thumbs against Peter’s cheeks. “Bad things will happen,” he continued. “And they will suck. I am so sorry for that, but really good things will happen too. And you know what? That is life. That is not on you. All you can do? Is be the absolute best kid you can.” He chuckled. “Best man, really. I can’t believe you are already going to be 17.” He felt like he was rambling again and only hoped something he said made Pete feel at least a bit better.
Peter’s gaze shifted from his shoe to Tony when he felt the man’s hands on his cheeks, his head lifting a little. Quietly he listened, taking in the man’s words. Honestly, he hadn’t thought too much about why Tony was up there, which made him, briefly, feel bad. He supposed he’d thought that, for whatever reason, the man had needed some air, maybe couldn’t sleep. He may not have known everything there was to know about Tony Stark, but Peter wasn’t so self-involved that he hadn’t noticed some of his sleeping habits, or lack thereof at times. Although the apartment was way bigger than any he’d lived in back in his own world, it was still small enough that he did notice things. Not to mention enhanced senses weren’t always a blessing.
Although he didn’t find the words uplifting in the traditional sense, he appreciated that Tony wasn't really sugar coating anything for him, either. If he’d told Peter everything would be fine, he doubted he’d believe him. And he wondered if he’d ever open up again. Adults did that a lot, and he kind of understood why, but that didn’t mean he thought it was the right way to handle everything. It was one thing to give hope by being optimistic, but he noticed mostly adults did it in a way that invalidated the feelings. Why else keep secrets?
He let out a little huff of a laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging up a little at the comment about grounding him if he called his suit a costume again. That, at least, seemed to break some of the tension in his stomach, leaving just enough room to not know how he felt about about the idea of turning seventeen, especially in a strange reality.
A moment later, he said, “Thank you.” Tony’s words didn’t erase or completely soothe his feelings, but they’d helped. Knowing someone else -- especially someone he looked up to -- might feel similarly… It really did help, even if he couldn’t immediately shake the feelings that creature had left him with.
Tony appreciated Peter’s small laugh. He, of all people, knew such emotions were heavy and complicated. He didn’t expect the kid to feel better right away, but he took it as a sign that Peter would be okay. Tony knew he couldn’t protect him from everything as much as he wanted to, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try his hardest to keep the boy safe and happy.
“Sure,” he replied. He took a step away from the wall, this time holding an arm out to help Peter down if he wanted. He knew the kid didn’t actually need the help, but that wasn’t the point. “Want to go watch bad television until we fall asleep?”
He might not have needed the help, but as he unfurled himself from his perch on the wall, Peter took the offered hand. “That sounds good,” he said, slipping down off the wall. He gave Tony a little smile. “Maybe one of those cooking or baking shows.” Why he suggested a baking show, he didn’t know. It was just the first thing that had popped into his head. And maybe, with all the cooking and baking, it could be an easy distraction. Kitchen drama never seemed as bad as other dramas. And there was an odd sort of science to cooking and baking that he liked. He wasn’t amazing at cooking, and his cookie decorating skills left something to be desired, but he understood it.
“Or maybe Mystery Science 3000,” he added as an afterthought. That was always a good time in his book. “Either or.” And he meant it. Either would be fine with him, no doubt providing a better distraction than sitting on the roof and trying to ignore his thoughts.