Peter was crying. And not the acceptable few silent tears kind of crying; the loud, sobbing, mess of tears and snot on your face kind of crying. It was the kind of crying that you couldn't stop once you'd started and it definitely was NOT acceptable. But Peter couldn't stop.
Peter fell to his knees, dirt and gravel digging in his skin, the burst of physical pain a welcome accompaniment with the emotional pain. Peter put his hands over his face, smearing the tears and mucus and gave into the bubble of anguish that was trapped in his chest; the sobbing sounds of pain that broke from him loud were and somewhat abhorrent to him but still how somehow bringing relief. The sight of his tears and the sounds of his cries could only partially communicate his inner pain. Not that there was anyone to see or care about his pain. Peter was totally and utterly alone.
Peter knew he should have been stronger. Despite knowing he was too old to give in to such open emotions he still struggled with it. He was almost a man; he certainly wasn't s kid anymore. But sometimes he wondered, alone in the night when no one could know even his secret thoughts, what would make him a man? He'd lost his father, lost his uncle, lost his...Mr. Stark. Ever since the changes that had occurred to make him Spider-Man he'd grown stronger and physically mature. But emotionally? He still felt unsure, scared and wanted so desperately to be held and hugged that he thought he'd be crushed by the feeling of it.
Sometimes he thought and feared that he really was nothing more than a lost little boy. And sometimes he just wished someone would come along and make him feel like he wasn't.
Peter was still crumpled into the dirt sobbing as if his heart was breaking when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He'd been through so much the touch made him jump; he whirled around, ready for an attack.
Instead, standing there was Mr. Stark...Peter didn't know how it could be. His stomach soared with hope, making him feel lightheaded. He was whole, he was complete...he looked as if nothing had ever happened. Could he really be here? Could the pain and sorrow and loss he'd been feeling really have been nothing more than a horrible dream?
"Peter, what's wrong?" Mr. Stark asked as he walked closed to Peter. His brow was knit in concern as he observed Peter's outburst.
Now that Peter was beginning to accept he really was here he had the sense to be embarrassed about his tears. But just as his hand went to his face to hastily wipe them away, Mr. Stark's connect with his cheek, his thumb brushing away the wet streaks. There was no commendation or judgement in the way that he was looking at Peter.
Peter closed his eyes for a brief moment, relishing the tickle and warmth of Mr. Stark's fingers against his cheek. He was horrified to feel it made him want to cry MORE not less; already more water was gathering at the corners of his eyes and spilling out. Gentle fingers gathered the tears as soon as they made their way out of Peter's eyes and down his cheeks. It was a much more intimate gesture than he'd was used to, especially from his mentor but it warmed him; he truly was starved for attention.
When Peter opened his eyes he found Mr. Stark close, his face concerned. He was patiently waiting for the answer to his question.
"I thought you were gone...I thought I'd lost you forever" Peter said, his voice cracking.
Emotion was closing Peter's throat, making his hands shake; the memory of watching Mr. Stark die right in front him was so clear and so real it felt like a knife going through him. All that loss and loneliness filled him up and the tears were flowing again.
And that's when it happened; strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. Mr. Stark's arms encircled him in a tight hug, Peter's face pressed into his chest. It took no time at all for Peter reciprocate, holding onto him as tightly as he could. How many times he wanted this; this feeling of belonging and protection and safety, both before everything had gone wrong and especially since then. That deep need inside him to be held and feel safe could finally relax. Peter sighed deeply, relaxing so much he felt as if he could simply collapse; if he thought Mr. Stark would hold him he would. So much for being a big, strong Avenger….. Peter didn't care; no one else could know about this moment anyway. Mr. Stark obviously wasn't thinking any less of him because of his weakness and that's all that mattered.
"Peter, it's okay...I'm not going anywhere. You can't get rid of me that easy", Mr. Stark said with some humor. Even so, Peter could feel him hold on tighter, one strong arm around his body, the other cradling Peter's head against his chest. Peter could smell Mr. Stark's spicy cologne and feel the contrast of warm skin and the cold metal of the arc reactor through his shirt. His heart was still going, his chest still heaving breath...it was all so comforting...
Mr. Stark squeezed him tighter. "You really thought I was gone, didn't you kid?" He said with seriousness, realizing how upset Peter was. Peter didn't even care he'd called him kid; right now it was comforting. He felt like he was a bit of a kid and somehow that was okay if he had Mr. Stark with him.
"I remember it...it seemed so real..." Peter said, gasping several breaths as he tried to calm his crying.
"Shhh...it's all over now. We're both okay and that's all that matters" Mr. Stark said, his chest heaving against Peter as he took a calming breath.
It was so RIGHT...all the times Peter had wanted reassurance, security for someone to tell him everything was okay, to see his tears and not tell him to be strong. He wanted to be able to FEEL everything he felt and know it was okay. For once he wasn't trying to save anyone, he wasn't having to take care of someone else; with Mr. Stark's arms around him he felt as he were the one being taken care of and it felt so good...
As if he could read Peter's train of thought Mr. Stark said "You've done so well peter. Now just let me take care of you for once"
Peter's heart burst with joy and happiness; he was so consumed with the joy he felt that he didn't accept when it ended for a long while. It had felt so good Peter kept his eyes shut tight to the truth long after he knew he was awake and he couldn't feel those strong arms around him; only the tears remained real.
Peter's heart was hammering in chest and that sense of belonging and peace he'd felt in his dream was quickly giving way to cold, dark sadness. Eventually he opened his eyes, hoping at least it would be morning and he'd not have to face the feeling alone in the dark. No such luck; when he opened his eyes he was faced with the empty blackness of a late night, the only glimmer of light and hope the sliver of moonlight steaming through his window.
Peter pulled the covers closer to him and clutched them tightly. He could hear the sounds of a city that never slept; traffic beeping in the street, boisterous and probably drunken laughter on the sidewalk below, his neighbors arguing through the wall...Peter felt so alone.
It'd been nothing but a cruel dream; Mr. Stark was dead and he wasn't coming back. He would never again tell Peter he was doing a good job, never give him the advice he so desperately needed as a superhero, never again hug him in the way that made Peter feel all was right with the world...
Peter squeezed his eyes together against the pain, grabbing his pillow and crushing it to him. The tears, real life tears, were spilling freely down his cheeks but he didn't care. No one could tell him to suck it up because he was alone.
Peter wanted to tell Mr. Stark how much he missed him; he wanted to tell him how much he needed him. He wanted to tell him how no one could give him the things he needed but him. But he couldn't tell him anything because he was gone and never coming back. Instead, through his sobs only one word came out, a mere whisper as he clutched the pillow.
"Tony..." it was more cry than word and it was the name he could only call him now that he was gone. Of course there was no one but himself to hear it, just as there was no one to comfort him. Of course he could talk to plenty of people about missing Mr. Stark but he couldn't tell anyone about all the insecurities and doubts he had about himself. That simply wasn't something an Avenger should do.
So, he would allow himself to let go and feel sad and vulnerable and confused in these moments when no one else could see. And tomorrow, in the light of the day, he'd get up and move on. He'd smile and help others and maybe he'd look a bit tired and have red eyes but other than that he would look strong.
He would do it for Tony…..