Hey Guys! So I know I haven't posted or updated in a loooooooong time and I am so sorry. I just got major writer's block. So this is a Spider-Man fic, so I'm changing things up! I teamed up with a friend of mine on this about halfway through and I really love this! Enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated as well.


Tony and Peter haven't spoken in three years. Three years seems like a lot, but to Tony, it seemed like just enough time to get over what had happened between the two. Or maybe it wasn't enough time and Peter called him here for something other than mending their broken friendship. He hoped it wasn't the latter, at least that's what he expects Peter to have called him for. Then again, Peter did some things Tony would never have expected that night. The faithful night that both, Tony and Peter, wished never would have happened. But you can't change something that's already done and over with.

The door to the small Italian restaurant swung open and Tony stepped in. Italian was always Peter's favorite. At least it was the last time they went out to eat together, but that was a long time ago. Tony fumbled with his phone in his pocket as his eyes scanned the restaurant for any sign of Peter. In the back was a young man, his back facing Tony. His hair was medium length with signs of curls, he had wider shoulders than Peter and seemed to fill his shirts better. The young man looked around and it took a second for Tony to realize that it was Peter. Tony walked over.

"Peter?" He spoke up. Peter stood up and turned around, his motions a bit awkward. Oh god, this was weird.

"Mr. Stark," Peter said nodding. Tony went in for a handshake, but Peter hesitated and instead motioned towards the booth. The kid's voice wasn't much different, only a little deeper but still recognizable. Tony sat down in the small, hard booth, directly across from Peter. Had they really gotten so far apart that Peter wouldn't even attempt a handshake anymore?

"Hey, kid," Tony said slowly. It was weird, the kid was taller than him now and he never realized how vulnerable the kid made him feel. It's like standing next to Steve, but the kids like six times stronger.

"So… how are you? I heard you graduated a couple months ago. Got any plans for college?"

"I don't know, I got accepted into MIT," Peter shrugged. He seemed as though he wasn't prepared for the question. The night before had been when Peter's guilt had built up to the point that the dam finally burst, causing him to call Tony. The call had been brief, as Peter didn't know what had caused the call, but Tony had accepted, and now here they were. Neither of them really knew what they were doing.

"You know, I went to MIT when I was fifteen. Great school by the way. Have you found a job yet?" Peters' gaze quickly diverted, "Okay guess not. You know you always have an internship with me, right?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he could see Peter visibly tense. The reaction surprised Tony, he was finally getting somewhere, so he continued.

"Hey," Tony said excitedly as he tried to get Peters' attention again, "remember those days when you used to come to the lab and work on projects with me? Well… up until, ya know…" At this point, Tony had realized how much Peter had curled in on himself. His eyes seemed distant as if he was recounting a memory and his head hung low, leaving his curls to fall into his face. Tony reached his arm up and quickly set it on Peters' shoulder. "Hey, you alright, kid?"

As if a switch flipped, Peter was up and out of his seat. His actions had caused the table to rattle, drawing everyone's attention to the commotion. He brought one hand down onto the table to steady himself, bringing the other to his head. The ragged breaths coming quick. Suddenly the metal table gave way under the force of his grip, letting out a shrill and piercing noise. Peter heard this and his breaths only became quicker as he stumbled back, falling into a waitress.

As Peter picked himself up to leave the restaurant, Tony got a glimpse of his expression. The pure fear and guilt painted on Peters face made his heartbreak. Only then did Tony realize what he said, 'kid', the last time he used that nickname had been on that night. All the talk about remembering the past must've triggered something in Peter, bringing up unwanted and painful memories.

Tony gets up and watches as Peter continues to trip over tables and desperately clawing his way to the exit. He can't help but follow him outside, the worry that had pooled in his chest only growing when he saw Peter stop for a moment, before falling to his knees.


Peter was second-guessing his choices. He didn't know what he was doing here, but all those thoughts were lost the moment he heard his name being called by the all too familiar voice. "Peter?" Oh no. He stood up, trying to make his motions seem more fluid, rather than the shocked state he was in. Oh god, Peter was taller than Tony, only making him feel worse. What was he thinking? He obviously hadn't thought this through-

"Tony," he nodded. Then he noticed the hand that Tony had reached out for a handshake, it was the same one that Peter had messed up all those years ago. He could still see the small tremble of his hand from the nerve damage Peter had caused. Instead of grabbing Tony's hand, he opted for motioning to the booth.

They both began to take their seats, and Peter noted the poorly concealed disappointment on Tony's face. "Hey, kid," Tony said cautiously as if he was scared that Peter would snap any second. Though, whatever Tony was going to say was lost in his thoughts.

They sat down and Tony spoke up again. "So… how are you? I heard you graduated a couple months ago. Got any plans for college?" Peter had applied for colleges and been accepted into a couple big schools but honestly these days, that was the least of his worries. He didn't want to disappoint Tony anymore so he instead replied with "I don't know, I got accepted into MIT."

The next few sentences didn't reach Peter's ears, as he was lost in thought. He vaguely heard Tony talking about how great MIT was and so on. He caught Tony mentioning something about a job, but Peter was caught up in thoughts about the past. He was pulled back to the present at the word 'internship'. Peter didn't flinch, but he couldn't help but tense up. He tried to maintain a calm front but Tony just pressed on, "Hey, remember those days when you used to come to the lab and work on projects with me? Well… up until, ya know…"

Peter started to panic internally at the mention of that night and it really, really didn't help things at all. He was trying to not break down in the middle of this restaurant and Tony bringing the horrible memories back was only perpetuating the oncoming panic attack.

"Hey, you alright kid?" That sentence coupled with the fact that Tony had brought his hand up, finally flung Peter over the edge. 'Kid', the old nickname repeating over and over in the back of Peters' head. Then suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. No, nobody could touch him, not here, not now. Everything kind of devolved into a blur, and before he could really think about what was happening, he was up and out of his seat. He could feel all of the eyes resting on him, and he brought a hand down and tried to steady himself on the table, gripping it hard. He brought the other hand to his head because god, it hurt so much.

He was visibly recounting a moment from that night and he began to clench his fist even harder. The table suddenly lets out a loud creak that almost resembled a scream. The sudden realization that he had bent the metal made Peter stumble back into a nearby waitress. He had to get out. He couldn't be here. Not around Tony. Not around these innocent people. Not when he has so much strength, but so little control.

He picked himself up off the ground in a desperate attempt to get out of the small restaurant. Peter finally reached the door and was hit by a large wave of dizziness. He almost immediately fell to the ground, grabbing his knees in an attempt to feel something real. Something solid. Something other than an incoherent thought. Then he felt a hand reach for his shoulder.