Chapter Text
Tony finds Peter’s room easily. It’s not just that it’s the only one with the door closed, or that an iron man helmet is hanging from the knob. The man already knows where it is, having accompanied Peter more than once to his room. Usually, they spend the last thirty minutes of his visit just sitting on the bed, while Peter shows him what he’s up to lately. A new radio that he’s trying to fix, ideas for future projects.
That’s probably his favorite part of the day. Where it’s just the two of them, being themselves and feeling happy.
Even though Margarethe has left him at the door, he sees her poking her head across the hallway, with a raised eyebrow. Tony doesn’t really know what he expects now, or what they expect from him. He tries knocking on the door softly, afraid of waking up Peter if he’s sleeping. He isn’t, of course, because Tony knows the kid enough to notice that he’s up before nine every day and doesn’t like to take naps.
When he doesn’t get an answer, he knocks a second time. There’s some noise from the inside, but still, no one comes to open the door. Tony has seen one of Peter’s roommates playing in the backyard, just like he should be doing. There’s snow, and even if it’s cold, the sun is shining. Most of the kids are outside, and the ones that are inside are playing in the living room.
“Buddy, it’s Tony” he tries next, wondering if Peter will open the door for him. “You there?”
Tony swears Peter gets up and walks to the door, but it doesn’t open. He thinks about turning back and leaving. After all, he likes his privacy when he’s down, and maybe Peter likes it too.
But he doesn’t, because he has seen Peter hugging Margarethe, leaning against her kisses and craving for Tony’s attention. The door is unlocked, none of the orphanage doors have locks. To Tony, it feels invading to just open it without receiving a verbal confirmation from Peter. So he keeps trying.
“I heard you weren’t having a good day, so I thought I could stop by and see how you’re doing. Don’t worry about today, though. You can come tomorrow if you feel better. If you want to” Tony adds, hearing only the laughs outside. “And we can have lunch together. I bought a bunch of weird stuff we gotta try. Margarethe probably shouldn’t know about them, but we’re good”
“Chocolate?” a muffled voice comes from the inside, and Tony smiles.
“Yeah, between other things” he chuckles. He lets a silent second go by, and then asks again. “Can I come in, Pete?”
“I guess”
Finally, he opens the door and enters the room. There are three unmade beds, and one of the lower bunks with the covers up. Under them, there’s a lump. Peter is shrunken in a ball, with his legs tucked against his chest. Tony notices the Iron man helmet on the ground, next to the bed, and one of Peter’s plushies from the court under it. The crutches are leaning against the wall.
When he closes the door behind him, Peter’s head appears from under the covers. Every brown, fluffy curl on his head is looking at a different direction, covering part of his forehead. His eyes instantly lock on Tony, and he gives him a small smile. Tony notices the redness around them, and the rosy cheeks.
He has never seen the kid cry before, although there’ve been a few close calls. No matter how hard Peter tries to hide his emotions, he’s still ten, and wears them in his sleeve. His bottom lip shakes when Tony sits on the bed, and the man’s hand, as if moved by strings, travels to his curls.
“Hey there, caterpillar. Comfy?”
Peter nods and curls his body around Tony’s, so that they’re as close as possible. It feels kind of natural to answer to his affection. Lately, Tony doesn’t have any problem in responding with more of it. Hugs with forehead kisses. Shoulder nudges. Knees brushing. He doesn’t like all of that, unless it’s Peter; then, Tony has no problem in being as affectionate as the kid.
“Here, let me –“ Tony starts, not sure what he needs or want. “Raise your head for a moment. Like that. Let me sit properly”
It takes them a while to find the position, and he has to hand it to the kid – Peter tries his best to follow the vague orders Tony gives him. When they stop moving, Tony is sitting with his legs sprawled across the bed, his feet off the mattress but the rest of them covered by the sheets.
He thanks his past self for not bothering putting on trousers and letting the sweats stay, because Peter’s cheek is squashed against his tight. The boy has tucked himself once more in a ball, but this time, with his head on Tony’s lap and one of his hands gripping his t-shirt. In that moment, Tony has no doubt Peter wants him to be there just as bad as he wants to.
They don’t talk for a while, not until Peter can control once more his breathing and is calm enough to not burst out crying. Still, Tony guesses he’s gonna see him break down soon, from the way his bottom lip keeps quivering and his breath hitches every now and then.
“Tony?” Peter asks, so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear him.
“I’m here”
“Do you think I’m gonna find a family?”
I’m family
That’s the first thought that comes to his mind, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He knows what Peter’s talking about, because he has seen it before. The way he looks at the families at the park, or how when a kid gets adopted, he’ll talk less for the day. Margarethe has warned him a few times, that Peter’s getting older. It’s not easy for a boy his age to get adopted, and he’s carrying luggage behind.
No matter how much he hates it, Tony knows that Peter’s not exactly what a family looks for. He would pray to any God that he finds one, if he believed in them. The truth is parents usually look for younger kids, ones that charm their way into their hearts on the first date, all smiles and laughs. They don’t want trauma.
He doesn’t feel like Peter’s trauma is even a quarter of his personality, and knows that isn’t part of his value. So, even though the words get stuck on his throat and feel like knives to his heart, he talks.
“Of course you will. There’s a family out there for you. With a dog, probably. Do you remember the dog we saw at the park, that white Labrador that got all dirty with the kids playing football? Just like that”
“It was a great Pyrenees” Peter answers a bit louder, snuggling closer to Tony. As if the man could forget anything that Peter said. For the sake of his comfort, he pretends he doesn’t remember.
“It was? I’m not sure. Maybe they have one of those. And they’re gonna take you to lots of cool places, buy you lots of Star Wars gifts. In the mornings, you’re gonna wake up smelling like pancakes, but without gluten, because they’re gonna only buy food you can eat” he keeps talking. “If it’s sunny, you’re gonna go play in the backyard with the dog, then you’re gonna fall down to the grass and the dog is going to lick all your face. If it’s raining, you’re gonna watch a movie with hot chocolate. With a blanket big enough to cover you, but not too heavy. Just like you love it”
Tony has no trouble imagining that. He can picture Peter smiling and hopping with his crutches behind a white dog, then falling to the ground and giggling uncontrollably when the dog licks his face. He can see him sitting in the sofa, close to his parents and drinking his favorite drink. With two marshmallows and very sweet, but not too hot.
Even though the picture is clear, his parents don’t have faces. It’s painful enough to think about Peter leaving, he can’t bring himself to paint that family. His brain keeps up showing him the same situation, only this time with him preparing the hot chocolate. Watching Peter from the window. Helping him get up from the ground, while the dog runs around them.
“I don’t know if I want a family” Peter admits when Tony stops talking, after a second of silence. “What if – what if they’re really nice, and then – then they h-hurt me? Again?”
“Peter, I promise you, not all the families are bad. What happened to you was horrible, and it shouldn’t have happened. You’re gonna find your family”
“But what if I can’t? Cause – cause I think I want a family, but… but then I see them, and I think ‘bout them, and I get really scared. So… I don’t talk and they – they leave” he interrupts himself with small hiccups, and to Tony’s horror, he finds the kid crying on his lap.
“The right family won’t care about you not talking. They’re gonna stay with you until you feel comfortable with them, and if they don’t, then it’s their loss” Tony answers. “You’re an amazing boy, you hear me? It doesn’t matter if you don’t talk, or if you need crutches. You’re Peter, and anyone who gets to be your family will be the luckiest person alive”
“What if they don’ l-love me? What – what if there’s something wrong w-w-with me?” Peter sobs into his lap, not hiding anymore the heartbreaking sounds.
“Bud, look at me. Hey. Look at me”
Tony waits until Peter lifts his head, and then, takes the time to clean his cheeks. The tears keep falling and wetting the sheets and his grey sweats, but he doesn’t care. All he can see now are those brown, innocent eyes that look up to him. Peter needs someone to be there for him, and it’s more than occasional ‘dates’ or suddenly becoming his father. He guesses that’s what Margarethe talked about, the emotional support.
For once, Tony decides to leave his feelings outside the door, any insecurities or pieces of bruised ego he treasures in the bottom of his heart. He says his truth.
“I love you, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you, Peter. You’re just like any other kid. Smart, good, caring, and above all of that, you’re Peter Parker, not what they made you believe. And it doesn’t matter how many people don’t love you, because I do. I love you”
Peter bursts out crying and slams himself back into Tony’s lap. This time, though, Tony understands that he needs to cry. So, he lets him. Instead of trying to fix him, or running away, he lets Peter heal by crying his bruised heart out on his lap, occasionally muttering ‘love you’ and ‘I’m here’ while caressing his hair.
-
Tony feels every missed call’s vibration against his thigh, because his phone is hidden in one of the sweat’s pockets. He doesn’t bother checking what they want or who they are, and is glad Peter still have the children’s ability to sleep through almost anything.
After crying for thirty minutes and become close to an asthma attack too many times, Peter cries himself to sleep in Tony’s lap. The kid doesn’t let his t-shirt go even when his breaths even out, and manages to shift closer to Tony every five minutes.
By the time Margarethe comes to check on them, he’s squeezed into the wall uncomfortably, but without moving an inch. The woman looks at Peter and then at him. She closes the door, choosing to sit on the opposite bed; probably, the one they’re in would crack under their weight. Tony makes one more mental note to the thousands he has made today, and promises himself to buy decent mattress to the North Star as soon as he has time.
It's silent for a moment, where Margarethe just stares at Peter. Through the many visits and dates, Tony has finally understood why she’s always so affectionate and caring towards Peter. She’s not mean or rude to the other kids by any means, but the man has noticed how she has a soft spot for the kid. At the begging, he fooled himself thinking it was just Peter’s natural attraction, that made everyone love him. Now, he recognizes that look.
It's guilt.
She feels guilty for what happened. Tony’s not sure if it’s because she didn’t find soon enough, or for letting them take Peter away in the first place. Margarethe seems to read his mind, because she sighs and accommodates herself in bed. Her knees crack and her posture shows just how old she is.
“We didn’t report the abuse” Margarethe says softly, staring at Peter’s sleeping form. She doesn’t give him any introduction, she just burst it. And Tony isn’t as surprised as he should be, because he guessed so.
It still makes his body go rigid, subconsciously bringing Peter closer. Tony tries to keep his voice down, so that the kid doesn’t wake up.
“They could – what if they adopt again? Or decide to foster? They can… can they do it again? Adopt Peter?” he asks. There are doubts and questions he wants to ask; but more than anything, he wants to make sure Peter is okay. That those monsters can’t breathe the same air than him, can’t think about him.
Margarethe sighs. It’s not a yes, but it’s not the ‘no’ Tony’s looking for. Instead of answering to his question, she goes back to what he asked on the first conversation then had over the phone, when she told him about Peter. It’s been only a few months since then, but now, it feels like ages ago. Where Tony was still trying to find a place in the world after so much hurt and pain, when he didn’t know if it was worthy.
He had asked, out of curiosity, what had happened that left Peter in crutches. Margarethe gave him a vague explanation, one that only left him with more questions. Now, though, he feels ready to know.
“The day they threw Peter down the stairs, they were the ones who took him to the hospital. I don’t know what happened in between, but they managed to convince Peter to say he had fell. The doctor called me later, and… I knew what had happened when I saw him, but it was too late” Margarethe explains, and Tony can see the pain, guilt and sadness in her eyes.
“He had said it was an accident” he says. He remembers the first time something like that happened to him, when Howard threw a glass to the ground and it cut Tony. How his father threatened him to say that it had been an accident, a kid’s mischief gone wrong.
“They’re… wealthy enough to avoid questions. They had done it before, and I had my suspicious, but Peter didn’t say anything. Not once. He always nodded to everything they said and kept his head low. I think… I think he was so desperate for a family, to feel loved, that he was willing to take it all and pretend”
Tony thinks back to that day at the adoption fair, when he had just met Peter. Then, a man had asked if Tony was his father, and Peter had almost busted out crying right there. In that moment, he didn’t know he would become Peter’s family, Peter’s dad. Had the kid made a mistake trusting him with that role, the same way he did with that family? He likes to think he’s better than them.
At least, Tony knows he’ll try his best to keep the smile on Peter’s face.
“He had done it before, lying to the doctors about where he got hurt. But that day I guess he was more scared, or maybe he finally realized what was happening wasn’t right” she tells him, moving her eyes between him and Peter. “When the doctor told him he had to stay in the hospital, he just broke down. He kept crying, and sobbing, and he was… they had to give him a sedative to help him sleep.”
“My god” Tony covers his mouth with his free hand and pinches his nose, forcing himself not to ask FRIDAY to look for them.
“When he woke up, he stopped talking. I knew what had happened, but the doctors already had Peter’s words against me. So, I was just the crazy orphanage’s head master” she chuckles humorlessly. “They must have thought someone would end up believing me, so they dropped the adoption process and Peter came back with me. But we couldn’t…”
“You didn’t have evidence of the abuse” he finishes.
“The woman, Helen, sent us the crutches, two weeks after Peter was released from the hospital. I don’t think… Maybe they didn’t mean to throw him down the stairs, or maybe they did but didn’t expect the consequences. Either way, they abused Peter for six months”
“And they’re free”
It boils his blood, until he feels like suffocating and screaming his throat raw. He wants to travel back in time, to the moment Peter entered that house, and make him see that he deserves more. He wants to be able to do something, but he realizes he can’t. And even if he could, he wouldn’t want to put Peter past that. It’s clear that the family won’t dare to come near Peter, and even if they dared, Tony wouldn’t allow that.
But if he wants to make them suffer, he needs Peter to see them again. To explain to someone what happened in that house, the things Margarethe and him knows, and the ones that only the kid knows.
And while his past self would have done it without caring how much it hurt Peter, just because it would satiate his anger, now he knows that it’s not worthy. They don’t talk for a while, the only noise in Peter’s room the kid’s breathing. He should probably wake him up, or at least move him so that he’s lying on the pillow, not with his head bent on Tony’s knee.
Somehow, though, he understands that Peter prefers to stay close to someone rather than being comfortable, and Tony is totally okay with that.
“He used to talk a lot” Margarethe starts, and Tony notices her red and swollen eyes. “Before… when he first came, he was sad about his parents, but he tried not to show it. He helped the younger kids with homework and always offered a hand around the house. His laugh was the best sound, and it was always so loud and contagious it cheered everybody”
“It is” he agrees, smiling when thinking about Peter’s laugh or smile.
“I think that’s what irritated them, you know. Helen and Matt were normal adults when they came over, but they didn’t know how to handle kids. When they saw Peter, they only saw the cute dimples, fluffy curls and brown doe eyes. They didn’t see how his over-talking was a defense mechanism for the grief” she explains. “I knew they weren’t ready for a kid, adopting a kid it’s more than just the good moments. You gotta learn how to love him, to give him parts of you so that he can be himself. They didn’t really love him.”
Those words feel directed to him, even though he knows she’s talking about someone else. Does he know how to love Peter? He realizes that, maybe, he doesn’t. He still messes up sometimes and forgets simple things, like grabbing his crutches when they leave the car or offering him a hand when getting up. Tony still hands him objects without looking, not noticing Peter can’t take them until the kid asks him, embarrassment dripping off his words.
At night, he thinks about what he’s doing. For two months, he has been happier than ever, and he has also regretted every decision, every step he took towards this direction. No matter how hard he tries to convince himself that Peter likes him as much as he does.
Because, Tony has been there for the good moments, he guesses. He has been there occasionally, but not as a commitment.
“Tony, you need to foster him” she says, as if she was talking about the weather.
“I can’t. I’m not good for him, Margarethe. I can barely look after myself. And I drink – a lot. He barely knows me, he can do so much better than me” Tony whispers, his voice lowering until it disappears.
He has thought about it before. Adopting Peter might be something too big, and no matter how deep the connection they have created is, it’s been only two months. But fostering it’s different, or so he has read. At the begging of the year, he asked FRIDAY what it meant. The AI had pulled out all type of information about fostering a kid, from the legal paperwork to what it meant in case of adoption.
Peter lives with him, they become an unofficial family, and then, he gets pulled away when he finds his real family. He isn’t sure if he would be able to endure that, so he asked FRIDAY to delete everything and tried to forget about it.
Tony looks down at Peter, who is still sleeping and hugging him close. As uncomfortable as the position is, he hasn’t moved an inch. He has just confessed Tony his biggest fear, has crumbled down in front of him. And Tony has seen through him – all those insecurities, lead to the same point.
Peter’s not sure if he wants a family.
The trauma left behind has scarred him, and Tony isn’t sure if he’ll ever get past it without help. Professional help, or someone who loves him until he forgets about it. He thinks, he’s not the one for it.
He has almost forgotten about Margarethe when she speaks again, with a tone in her voice he hasn’t heard before. It’s been a long, silent minute, but then she breaks it, and he wishes she wouldn’t have.
“If you don’t foster him, he… Peter…” she catches his eyes, and surprisingly, Tony notices one lonely tear making its way down her cheek. “I have cancer. No longer than three months, at best. And when I’m gone, they’re gonna take them all away, Tony”
With that, his world crumbles once more.