Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As promised, I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in. The lights were still dimmed but I did not hear any more movies playing. I did not dare move, not wanting to risk waking Mr. Stark who was still sleeping soundly. It’s strange seeing him sleep, this is the first time I’m seeing it and wow he looks so much more peaceful unconscious. 

I wish I could sleep peacefully, I wish I could say I didn’t hear the endless crash crash crashing of the strangers car against Aunt May’s. I wish I could say that the crack of my head against the side window doesn’t echo through my head, that the image of Aunt May’s bloody body wasn’t seared into my brain. I wish I could say that no matter how much Mr. Stark had washed my hands that I know my aunts blood will never truly leave my hands. 

After a few moments of us laying there, he shifted a bit, I did not mean to tense up. With a groan, he greeted me, “Morning Petey.”  I only managed a yawn in response, making some weird mewling sound in the process. Though I slept for what felt like a while, I was just as exhausted as last night. Thankfully, he did not press me to give a verbal response. Even if I was not so dead tired, pun not intended , I’m not sure if I would have it in me to speak aloud. “You ready to get up?” He asked, smiling at me a bit. Instead of giving a real answer, I just nuzzled my head back into his neck. With a small chuckle, “Kiddie, as adorable you are all cuddly, I need to pee and we both could use a shower.” 

Even though I know he’s right, I could not help but clutch his shirt tighter, hoping he will simply stop caring about hygiene. He shifted again, sitting up straighter so that his back cracked satisfyingly. Reluctantly, I moved off of him, but I still could not bring myself to unhook my finger from his belt loop, still keeping him within arms reach. Maybe he won’t leave me if I’m close enough… but Aunt May was only arms length away and she left. But that was my fault, it’s my fault. 

Mr. Stark stood, and I was pulled along with him. Before we could part ways to our separate rooms to get ready for the day, my mentor pulled me into a hug. I closed my eyes, relishing in his generous comfort. All too soon, he pulled back from the embrace, now leading me to the elevator. Arriving at my floor, he gave me a sympathetic look, “you gotta let go, Pete. I’ll meet you at my private kitchen, okay?” When I still did not let go of his belt loop, he joked, “we can’t quite shower together, kid.” That was what pulled me out of my trance, I need to let go. 

It took far too long, but I dropped my hand, only to find myself balling it in a fist. It’s strange having empty hands after holding on so hard for so long. I meandered by way down to my room, I must look drunk with how unstable I felt. Entering my room, I was met with a wave of pure loneliness. I’m pathetic, I haven’t even been away from Mr. Stark for more than a minute and I already feel like the void in me has grown instantly larger.

I’ve had a void in me ever since I was four years old and Uncle Ben told me that my parents died. Though, at the time I had not fully comprehend what dead was, I knew that there was unmistakably something missing in me. Like a handful of puzzle pieces stolen from me, leaving my picture incomplete. The void only grew, when I held Uncle Ben as he died, it’s like another couple handfuls of pieces were stolen from me. But Aunt May, god Aunt May…  it’s like scissors were taken to my puzzle pieces, making me incapable of being put back together. 

It was not until I heard Friday’s voice that I was pulled from my thoughts, “Would you like me to inform Boss of your distress?” Once I took in what she asked, I frantically shook my head ‘no’, I’ve already been clinging to him like a koala, he doesn’t need me to ruin his only time to himself. Before Friday could insist like Karen always does when I cry or panic about something, I snatched up a sweatshirt, jeans, and pair of boxers. I don’t care if it’s stupid hot this summer, sweatshirts are more comfortable. Lucky for me I already have plenty of clothes here just for me, for the weekends I’d spend here. I hadn’t even thought yesterday to go back to Au- back to the apartment to get my stuff.

How am I ever supposed to go back there, back to my home without her. She’s all I had left, she’s the only family I hadn’t killed off yet. How can I be in the place she worked night and day to rent for us when I stole it all from her? I can’t face those empty rooms, empty of her, see all her things and know she’ll never see them again. I can’t go back there. Mr. Stark said he’d take care of me, but did he just mean yesterday? Legally, doesn’t he have to send me to foster care?

These aren’t questions I can answer no matter how much I worry about them. With a sniff, I wiped away the stray tears that leaked from my probably still red eyes. Everything is always red. tried to distract myself from the inevitable anxiety by preparing to shower. Stripping down, I made sure to avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I may or may not have turned the water temperature in the shower a little too hot. But no matter how much soap I used, no matter how hot the water was, I just could not get my hands to feel clean. Them turning red from the heat and vigorous scrubbing did not help me not think about the blood drip drip dripping from my hands. 

Getting out the shower, even though I felt no cleaner, I distracted myself humming a tune. I could not place what the tune was, but it just felt right . Though I knew I could ask Friday what it was, I did not feel like talking. I could always figure it out later. After using the toilet, I changed into my clothes for the day, not bothering to dry my hair. I put my sweatshirt on as quick as I could, covering my hands with the sleeves. Exiting my room, I headed straight to the elevator, eager to be back with my mentor. 

But when I got out of the elevator, I was met with voices. I paused, curiously getting ahold of me when I recognized it as Mr. Stark and Happy. “I just don’t know,” my mentor's voice sounded, a million emotions swirling in those words. Desperation and frustration and sadness and confusion and such a deep sense of helplessness all rang through so clearly. 

Happy’s voice came through calmer, but no less worried and confused, “what do you mean he isn’t talking? The kid never shuts up.” 

“He hasn’t said a word since he called me yesterday, he hardly even nods or shrugs,” he did not sound quite angry, but more frustrated. Maybe with himself, but I’m no expert, “It takes a few tries to get any response at all, even nonverbal. I don’t know what to do,” the last part came quieter. If I didn’t have my super enhanced hearing, I wouldn’t have even heard it. 

I thought I heard someone sigh, but I could not tell who it was. Either way, it was Happy who spoke next, “maybe that’s how he copes.”

Mr. Stark practically snapped at him, “what are you talking about?” Before his voice lowered from its sharp tone, “I’m sorry… I’m just at a loss. I’m a genius and this kid still leaves me dumbfounded.” I bet if I could see them, he was running a hand over his face. All I’m doing is making everything harder for him… he’s better off without me. Everyone is. If it wasn’t for me, Uncle Ben wouldn’t have been on the street that day. And if it wasn’t for me Aunt May wouldn’t have been driving, looking for a less busy parking lot for me to practice driving in.

I’m never stepping foot in another car again.

Happy sounded more patient than I’ve ever heard him, “I’m no expert, Tony, I just know people cope differently,” I could imagine him raising his hands up in defence to my mentor, “maybe since the kid talks so much normally, when he’s in shock and grieving he becomes the opposite and stops talking.” 

There was a pause before Mr. Stark spoke again, “maybe. That makes sense, and it’s not like I have any other ideas,” he paused again, presumably thinking, before continuing talking once again at a lower volume, “it’s only the second day and I feel like I’m failing him.”

“You’re gonna take him in, right?” Happy questioned.

I heard my mentor scoff like it was the most obvious answer in the multiverse, “of course I am. If he wants me to, I mean. I can’t just leave the kid to fend for himself.” Wait what? He’d actually take me in? I knew he was generous but like, wow. Wow, I just, I can’t believe that he would be willing to do that for me. I could never ask that of him, never never never. But like, he even thought of it himself. This is so unreal, just… wow.

Happy sounded as if he was smirking, “and because he’s your son,” Mr. Stark tried to cut him off with a ‘hey!’ but Happy was quick to keep talking, “don’t lie to me, everyone knows you see him as your son. You literally call him ‘kid.’” 

I know Mr. Stark well enough to know he rolled his eyes at his friend, “so then it makes adopting him even more fitting then.” Happy asked a question, but Mr. Stark was quick to reply, “yes of course I know taking him in and adopting are different, I’m not stupid. Of course I’m not going to dump this all on him at once, even I know that’s overwhelming.”

“One step at a time,” Happy agreed with him. “Where is the kid, anyway?” He questioned, and I felt my cheeks redden as if I’ve already been caught eavesdropping.

Though, I’m sure I would be able to tell if they knew I was listening in. I doubt Mr. Stark’s way of saying he actually wants me to be his kid would be letting me overhear him tell Happy. “I made him go take a shower, but he’s been gone awhile.” Shit, shit, he knows somethings wrong. It’s too late to back out now, I’m lucky Friday hasn’t already tattled me out. 

Not knowing what else to do, scared he would ask his A.I. what I’m up to, I walked towards where I heard the voices. As he had promised, Mr. Stark was in his kitchen, Happy standing in front of him.

My mentor greeted me with a smile, “speak of the devil. How was your shower?” He asked, before cringing at his own awkward question. At my shrug, he asked, “hungry? Actually, I know you are. What do you want?” He's trying to prompt me to speak. 

When I shrugged again, Happy spoke that time, “pancakes or waffles?” I stared at him, not knowing how to answer. “Pancakes?” Happy asked again, to which I nodded. Maybe I know how to answer, but maybe I just don’t want to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I sat down at the stool next to the island Happy was leaning against. I did not miss the two men making eye contact, before looking at me. While Mr. Stark got to work on the pancakes, Happy put his hand on my shoulder, I did not mean to lean into the contact , “how are you feeling?” 

When I shrugged yet again, he let out a deep breath, “you’ll hurt your shoulders shrugging so much,” he tried to lighten the mood. I would have given a small smile if I could have. If I could have… After that, the only sounds left were of Mr. Stark cooking our breakfast. When he was done, he slid into the stool next to me. Thankfully, Happy did not say anything when I instinctually hooked my finger into my mentors jeans belt loop. It was like a tiny bit of the weight on my shoulders left when I was able to be connected to Mr. Stark. 

While the two men chatted about this or that, I wasn’t really paying attention, I spent my time stabbing my overly large stack of pancakes with my fork. I had not even needed to cut them up, just sticking my fork in and out of them until they began to turn to mush. After who knows how long, Mr. Stark spoke up, “you know, they taste better when they’re in your body.” When I still did not take a bite of what I’m sure were tasty pancakes, he tried again, “Underoos, I know you feel sucky right now, to say the least,” now that’s an understatement , “but with your metabolism you’re gonna make yourself sick if you skip more meals.”

It’s wrong of me to make this even harder on him, even if I don’t feel like ever eating again for the rest of my pointless life. I stabbed my fork back into the food, this time taking a small bite. Only after getting a taste did the full feeling of hollowness in my stomach reveal itself to me. Quickly, I shoveled another bite into my mouth, and another. Though even after I ate, it did not fill that hollow void inside me. 

Happy offered to wash our dishes, giving Mr. Stark the chance I guess he was waiting for to talk to me. “So, Pete,” he began, doing little to keep my anxiety levels down, “I know we only just began the day, but I know waiting to have important conversations only makes spiraling out easier.” I thought he told Happy that he wasn’t going to spring everything on me at once. “I want to start off by saying that you are 3000% welcome to stay here as long as you want. I am happy to have you hear, I don’t want that silly little brain of yours making you think you’re a burden.” I searched his eyes but I did not spot any signs of a lie. 

He must of known I was not about to speak, because he did not hesitate to continue, “and if you want to stay here, I know you may need some of your stuff. So I want to give you the option, I can bring you down to your apartment and you can grab what you need or-” he did not get the chance to say the second option. I was already whipping my head side to side, trying to scream ‘no’ as loud as I could without uttering a sound. Please don’t make me go back there, let alone the car ride down, don’t make me enter that empty home. Please, please don’t. 

I did not notice the tears dripping down my cheeks until Mr. Stark reaches up his hand, brushing away the tears with his thumb. I didn’t even think about it, I just reached up, holding onto his arm, trying to ground myself. “It’s okay,” he tried to assure me, even though it’s not okay, “you don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. Can you write up a list of anything you think you’ll need or want and Happy can go pick it up?” I gave a shaky nod, relief flooding through me.

Oh thank god it’s summer, if I was in school there would be no way in hell I would have Happy pick that shit up, school would be the last of my priorities. As much as I hate excessive heat, the summer has never been such a relief. In the sense of school at least. 

Looking around the room, I’m not sure when Happy left the room, but I was thankful for the privacy after that small breakdown. 

Reaching down, I realized I never put my phone back into my pocket. It must still be in my room. Looking around the room, I did not spot any pen and paper nearby and I just did not have it in me to get up and leave my mentor's side. He must have noticed my dilemma because he handed me his phone, saying I could just text Happy my list. He’s grown accustomed to my lack of speaking quite quickly, he must have really absorbed what Happy said about my way of coping. I'm not sure if he’s right, but I’ll still relish in Mr. Stark not trying to force me to talk when I just can’t. I can’t. 

Thankfully, after I texted Happy, Mr. Stark offered for us to go watch movies again. At my nod of approval, we stood, his arm casually slinging around me as he led me back to our movie room. I did not ask Happy for my Spider-Man suit. Once again, we sat together on the couch, a mountain of cuddly blankets piled over us as Disney movies played. I did not miss how we only watched particularly happy ones, none with death in them, which surprisingly is not a lot to choose from. 

It was only while the third movie played softly, Mr. Stark's fingers once again carding through my hair, that it finally hit me what song I was humming to myself earlier. It was It’s Quiet Uptown from Hamilton. I’m not sure how I feel about that…