The Difference Between a Father and a Dad

Peter knew something was wrong when he noticed that Tony was avoiding looking at him.

Actually, he had started worrying when he first got the call asking him if he'd be at home this afternoon, as Tony was looking to come over. It raised a red flag in Peter's head because they had an arrangement, him and Mr. Stark. They'd meet up every Tuesday and Friday after school, eat lunch together, and just talk. Peter was good at talking, and Tony loved to listen to him--he was always so energetic and enthusiastic. Both of them really enjoyed those afternoons.

But, so as not to take too much time away from their busy schedules, they limited their meetings to twice a week. Peter was hoping that during the summer they could meet more often--maybe every day!--but then he reminded himself not to get too carried away. Mr. Stark's really busy, regardless of whether school's in session. But, secretly, Peter maintained a sliver of hope that he'd be able to see a bit more of the man in a couple months.

It had taken some time, but Peter realized he had really gotten attached to Tony Stark. Attached beyond just "wow, it's Tony Stark and he's talking to me and is this a suit??" Beyond even the idol status that he'd held in Peter's heart since Peter was little. It had just kind of crept up on him, through all the texts and chats over dinner, and even the obsessive monitoring, that he liked Mr. Stark more intensely than any of that. Tony, he realized, he considered closer to...family.

He didn't want to accept it at first. But little by little it slowly sunk in that Tony cared about him beyond just a protege or "intern". Maybe it was the frantic scolding whenever Peter came back from a patrol with a bruise or two to show for it, or perhaps the rather hurried but regular words of encouragement that Tony would give him when Peter did something--anything--remotely significant. But whatever it was, it grew obvious to Peter that Mr. Stark actually liked him, and wouldn't just get rid of him the first time he messed up. So Peter allowed himself to care as well. And now, he found himself thinking he wouldn't know what to do without Tony in his life.

But no matter how much he'd rather see Mr. Stark more often, Tuesdays and Fridays were their meeting days and that was just how it was. Peter was, therefore, alarmed when Mr. Stark requested to see him on a Sunday.

He tried to put his worries aside as he sat waiting. What is this about? he thought, over and over again, coming up with no answer that didn't send his stomach dropping like a spacecraft on reentry. Peter had plenty of experience coming up with worst-case scenarios.

Suddenly, a sharp knocking sent Peter nearly dashing to the door. He opened it eagerly, hoping his nervousness didn't show.

"H-hi, Mr. Stark!" he said, stepping aside to let the man through. "This is neat, I'm not used to meeting with you on Sundays." Peter realized his heart was already pounding. Relax, he told himself, Mr. Stark doesn't have enhanced hearing anyway. There's no way he'll notice.

"Me neither," said Tony, standing rather stiffly next to the table. He was studying the flowers on it as though they were the most interesting thing he'd seen since he created a new element.

The silence stretched a little too long for Peter's comfort. Things aren't usually this awkward, he thought, trying to ignore the mounting tumult in his stomach.

"So, uh, you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?" Peter ventured.

"Yeah. About that," said Tony, his voice slightly tighter than Peter was used to. "Ah, you know I'm not one for mushy-gushy conversations, but sometimes things need to be said." Peter stood stock still. What is going on?

"Here's the thing. Relationships," he paused, pursing his lips and shifting his gaze to the ceiling, "don't last forever. I mean, sure, you can promise to 'always be there' for someone, but sooner or later somebody's gonna get hurt or let the other one down, and bam! It's over."

"Mr. Stark--" Peter tried to break in, but Tony lifted a finger.

"Hear me out, kid! This is important." His voice had even more tension in it than before. "So, as I was trying to say, they don't last. And it's always painful when they end, especially when they've lasted a while."

Tony took a breath and shut his eyes for a few moments. "I don't like it when relationships end. I don't like the pain, I don't--none of it. But, sometimes, it's necessary."

Peter's heart leapt into his throat. No, no, this can't be happening.

"Mr. Stark, whatever I did, I'm sorry! I'll be better, I won't stay out as late on patrol, I--"

"This isn't about you, kid!" barked Tony, looking at Peter for the first time. He paused and looked down, shoulders sagging. "It's about me."

"Wha--"

"Look, Peter, here's the deal. You're a great kid. You've got a lot of potential and I know you're gonna change the world someday. I mean, you already have. You've got such a bright spirit, and--" he broke off, composed himself, and continued quietly, "and I can't let myself ruin that. Ruin you."

"Mr. Stark, what are you talking about?" Peter's knuckles were white as he gripped the table, as if it would keep his tumbling thoughts steady, or keep his life from falling to pieces as he was watching it do now.

"I'm talking about letting you down. Kid, you deserve so much better than--this," he said, gesturing to himself. "So, I'm...taking the necessary steps. You can keep the suit, of course, but there's no need to come in on Tuesday--"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter snapped, startling them both. "You're not making any sense! Wh--seriously? Letting me down? What? You have no idea how much I love--love our meetings, being around you--Mr. Stark, you've been my idol since I was, like, eight! How are you letting me down?" The sound of Peter's rapid breathing seemed incredibly loud in the silence that followed.

Tony turned his head away from Peter, focusing on a houseplant in the corner of the adjacent room. "Look, kid, when I was your age, all I wanted was a dad. And yeah, Howard Stark was my father, but he wasn't my dad, and I never got over that. I've tried so hard to make myself into someone different, but almost every time I talk to you I just hear his words coming out of my mouth, and I can't--" he broke off, and briefly put his head in his hands before looking up again.

"Peter, you deserve better than that. You deserve a dad, and I can't be one. And maybe I'm flattering myself. Maybe there was no part of you that was seeing something like that in me--I hope that's true. But God, kid, I can't do this to you. I can't look at you and know that I'm making you into someone like me."

Peter stood in shocked silence. Tony wiped his eyes, trying to be discreet. Peter noticed anyway.

"So, that's it for us. Like I said, keep the suit. Sorry I couldn't give it those tweaks I wanted to. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out, you're a smart kid." Tony stepped away from the table, still avoiding Peter's eyes.

"Mr. Stark, no," he breathed. Tony either didn't hear him, or ignored him.

"Say bye to Aunt May for me. She still can't cook but she's a good woman."

"Mr. Stark," said Peter, more loudly. "You can't leave."

"Kid, I explained this to you, I have to," said Tony, a hardness in his voice. "It's a done deal. Settled."

"Wh--what about being an Avenger? What about patrols and missions and reports and--"

"You'll still have the suit. You don't need to be an Avenger to be Spiderman."

Peter felt his eyes welling up. Tony was putting his jacket on, getting ready to leave.

"But," Peter said desperately, his voice breaking, "I need you."

The iron wall in Tony's eyes fell for a split second. He jerked his head away from Peter, unable to look at the boy's face.

"Please," pressed Peter, seeing the effect his plea had had, "don't leave. I don't know what I'd do without you." A tear slipped down his cheek.

The walls went back up. "You're a smart kid. You'll get by."

"No, I won't!" shouted Peter desperately. "You're the closest thing to a dad that I have and you're walking away!" He choked back a sob.

Tony started walking towards the door. "That's exactly the point. You deserve a better one." Peter ran after him, tears streaking down his face, but Tony was resolute. He put his hand on the doorknob and forced himself to look at Peter one last time.

Tony's voice was soft and belied his emotionless facade. "You're a good kid, Peter. Don't ever forget that." He opened the door and turned away.

"I thought you cared!!" Peter screamed, sobbing, at the familiar figure in the doorway, who he might never see again.

Tony stopped.

He turned back around, the carefully constructed walls crumbling rapidly. His face scrunched and he was obviously struggling not to cry.

"I do care, Peter," he managed, "I care too much."

"Then stay!!" Peter choked out. "Y-you're leaving because--you're scared!" he gasped through his sobs. "You don't want--to face your mistakes, to--risk getting h-hurt! You don't--want to mess me up! But even--even if you did I'd love you anyway!!"

Tony put his hand to his mouth.

"S-something is better than--nothing," Peter said, putting his last hope in his desperate words, "so please, please, stay."

A silence, saturated with pain, balanced delicately in the air, broken by Peter's whispered words:

"Tony, I need you."

Tony stepped back through the doorway, crying silently, and pulled Peter into a hug. They clung to each other, each burying his tear-streaked face in the other's shoulder.

After a long while, Peter asked, very quietly, "Can...can I still come see you on Tuesday?"

Tony pulled away and put his hands on Peter's shoulders, looking deep into his eyes--reddened, but glimmering with hope.

"Any time, kid," he said softly. "I love having you around."

Peter smiled.