A/N: Sending love to everyone out there suffering from anxiety and any other form of mental illness. Y'all valid and important and loved.
"Need help with that tie?"
"Nah", he called back to his mentor, eyes never leaving his reflection in the full length mirror in his room. He was sure he looked ridiculous with his dress shirt only halfway tucked into the waistband of his pants and his tongue between his teeth as he tried to concentrate on tying the tie in question. "Aunt May helped me learn how to do it for Homecoming."
He didn't look up when he heard Tony start snickering from where he was leaning against the doorframe and instead slipped the wide end down through the loop. He then pulled on the wide end and adjusted the knot, taking in his tie tying talents with a frown but ultimately shrugged and decided it would have to suffice.
"Good job, kiddo," he heard the older man's voice from behind him and he met his eyes in the mirror as he went to tuck in his shirt. The voice was warm and the smile was proud. Peter beamed up at the man who had gotten it into his head to tell him he did good at least once a day, something about positive reinforcement that he had talked to May about.
Now, his aunt and his mentor being on texting basis was a little worrying but it also meant that they weren't fighting, so he took their weekly co-parenting meetings in stride and simply enjoyed being fussed over.
The knot wasn't particularly great, if he was being honest, but knowing Tony Stark – the master of dressing up – approved made him feel a little less nervous about it. With his shirt now successfully tucked in, he started slipping the cuffs the billionaire had insisted he get him, through the holes and closed them up. Once that was done – he had gotten quicker at that – he turned around, taking the navy suit jacket from his desk chair and looked up. His silent Is this okay? was met with a curt nod and another smile.
"You wanna take your Pal?" Tony asked as Peter turned to walk past him and at the glare the teenager shot him, added, "You do know we made this thing so you could carry it with you at all times, right?"
The kid huffed indignantly and it sounded so childlike that Tony couldn't suppress an amused snort. "I'm not gonna take my anxiety plushy to a Stark Industries party", he insisted and pushed past his mentor who followed hot on his heels.
"But are you feeling anxious about it?" The question held no malice and no judgement but a concern so genuine that Peter immediately felt bad for his annoyance and he slowed his steps until they were on the same level and he met Tony's eyes.
"Maybe a little bit," he confessed, "I mean it's a pretty official thing and there are going to be a lot of people I can potentially embarrass myself in front. Or worse, I could embarrass you but I'm generally trying not to think about it."
The billionaire raised his characteristic eyebrow and Peter floundered. "Not in an unhealthy 'I'm ignoring my anxiety' way," he was quick to add, "But I'm trying not to freak out too much and I mean I've got you there, right? Why would I need my Ironman plushy when I can have the real deal?"
As it turned out, the perk of a plushy, as opposed to his superhero billionaire mentor, was the fact that no one could call it away to talk to important people. No, his plushy would've stayed by his side when Tony had to leave it for a bit. That had been two minutes ago and he was already regretting his decision, painfully aware of how his thoughts continued to race each other in his mind in self- destructive circles.
The evening had started out so well, too.
They had made their entrance together, a lot less spectacularly than all of Tony's other entrances to previous events like these but still heart-skippingly exciting for Peter who had never experienced the amount of people and cameras lunging at them as soon as they entered before. He knew that this wasn't even the worst Tony had experienced and he was incredibly grateful for being tucked into his mentor's side throughout the ordeal.
The man was fighting the vulture that was the public eye on his behalf, always with a big smile on his face but with a look in his eyes that told them unmistakably what he'd do if they came too close to Peter. And it worked. For the most parts they kept away.
Tony had introduced him to a few influential people after that, highlighting how smart he supposedly was, how he had helped so much in developing the StarkPals and dropping hints here and there to a guy from MIT who, as soon as he got the message, ended up talking to Peter about college choices and his views on their current educational system. It was nice to swap ideas and thoughts on these things with people who came from a different place but had a lot more influence.
Peter wasn't at Tony's side all of the time, either. As the host Tony made his rounds through the guests, easily conversing with all of them, charming them and not taking their ass-kissing too seriously. He always made sure to keep himself in Peter's line of sight, though. The teenager wasn't even sure if it was done intentionally or if his mentor actually didn't like leaving him alone any more than he wanted to be left alone.
At some point, though, Peter's eyes had lost Tony and as soon as he had realized it, he excused himself from the man he was talking to and started searching the crowd for the billionaire. At first it wasn't too bad. He stood to the sides when other groups passed him, smiled politely at the people and held on to his soft drink.
It started to become a problem after he couldn't find him for another seven minutes and he could've sworn he already went through every part of the location.
Suddenly he became acutely aware of his hands shaking ever so slightly and his enhanced hearing – that he had tried to use to help in locating his mentor – became too much. He knew he was heading dangerously fast for an anxiety induced sensory overload and immediately he tried to step out, hoping the fresh air would help in clearing his head a little bit.
It was just his luck that as he had left the ear-numbingly loud room, a waiter outside tripped which resulted in a cacophony of noises that made him flinch so hard he accidentally crushed the glass in his hands, earning himself worried cries and too many people trying to fuss around him.
God, he couldn't breathe. There were so many people there suddenly. They were looking at him. At him and his bloody hands and the shards of glass that surrounded him.
Why couldn't they go away? Why did they have to keep looking?
Where was Tony?
Peter barely suppressed a sob before bolting back inside, not caring for how his hands were burning with small cuts and not reacting when he bumped into other guests who were trying to see what the turmoil was all about. He needed to get out, he needed to get away from everyone.
He could feel all their eyes on them. His whole body was vibrating with humiliation, his eyes were burning with tears he fought back and his legs were shaking with every step he took.
Finally he reached the men's room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he dropped to the floor, burying his face in his hand, not caring how his blood was starting to color his formerly white shirt bright red.
He was trying to block out everything else but there was too much going on.
The sounds of the chattering guests were coming through the door as if they were screaming directly into his ears. He could smell and taste his own blood that mixed with the tears that were now running down his cheeks freely. The floor was too cold and the heating his back was propped up against was too hot but he couldn't bring himself to move. At least his eyes he could close but there was still light filtering through, no matter how much he tried to curl in on himself.
There was always more input and it didn't even stop there.
His mind kept telling him how much of a fool he had just made of himself, how everyone was talking about him now, and how Tony would never ever be able to look at him again. He was a failure. He, Peter Parker, was a good-for-nothing high schooler that had somehow thought he could be worthy of being a superhero and being mentored by Tony Stark himself.
But he was just Peter Parker, who had nothing and who deserved no more and- God, he just wanted it to stop.
Without warning the door to the bathroom stalls opened and the sounds became even louder, prompting Peter to let out a choked sob that he tried to muffle into his knees. He really didn't want anyone to find him like this. He didn't want any more eyes on him. He just wanted to go home. He wanted May and Tony.
Tony.
"Pete?" he heard his mentor's familiar voice call out quietly and another sob escaped his lips as he looked up to find the man rounding the corner and lay eyes on the miserable kid in the corner furthest from the door.
"Oh Peter."
Suddenly he was at his side and pulled the bloody hands away from the teenager's face, shushing him so softly that Peter wouldn't have heard it if it hadn't been for his enhanced senses. It gave him something to focus his hearing on, though, so he latched on to the low voice that kept telling him everything was going to be okay.
It was all Peter could do to nod his head, lips still quivering too much to form an actual sentence and he found he didn't have to. Tony understood. He simply pulled him to his chest, not caring in the slightest what it would mean for his designer clothes that Peter was covered in blood.
"What happened, kiddo?", his mentor asked, running a hand along the nape of his neck, "Are you hurt?"
He gave a tiny shake of his head, not daring to move much farther in fear of losing the proximity. With his eyes closed, he let his body go limp in his mentor's hold, his ear finding the older man's heart beat with an instinctual ease and as soon as the sound hit his eardrums he felt some of the tension leave his body and with it started the crying.
The sobs kept rolling through his body, closing up his lungs and shaking up his core. The tears were coming so fast now that he couldn't see but he knew he didn't have to anymore.
He was safe.
There was no place on earth that was safer than Tony Stark's arms.
There was no place in the universe that made Peter feel safer than being tugged inside a embrace so tight that he couldn't feel anything apart from his mentor's hands on his back.
Tony never moved an inch and only when Peter lifted his head from his chest did he relinquish his grip on the boy.
"Better?"
"Yes," Peter whispered, his voice scratchy from crying, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it, kiddo," was the reassuring answer and suddenly Peter felt exhausted. All the anxiety and the tears ever left was emptiness, as if all energy had been drained from his body. He hated it. Hated how he could barely lift a finger after an episode. He hated how clingy he got.
"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, voice muffled by his mentor's ruined suit jacket, "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."
Again the man shushed him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Maybe I shouldn't have brought you to one of these things yet. But you didn't ruin anything."
He wanted to vocally disagree – only one look at his mentor's attire told him just how much he had ruined at least a good set of clothing – but the look in the billionaire's eyes made him stop and nod his head instead.
"'M still sorry," he mumbled into his chest, "Can I just hide in here until everyone has already left?"
Tony scoffed. "Fine. They're already gone anyway, squirt. How do you feel about going home?"
Peter blinked up at him, uncomprehending. "Th- they what?" he stuttered, pushing himself into a seating position, frowning at him. "Why? They've only been here for like two hours or something."
"So?", the man shrugged and rose to his feet before pulling Peter up as well, "They got over the socializing. They were only taking advantage of the free booze at this point. It'll be good for everyone's liver to cut this night short."
Maybe he shouldn't be surprised at how nonchalantly his mentor handled the whole thing. Like it wasn't a big deal that he had just blown one of Stark Industries' biggest events of the year because some teenager was having problems controlling his anxiety, but it still warmed his heart whenever he realized just how much Tony cared about him.
"Thank you, Tony," he whispered quietly and almost choked on his own spit when the older man only stared at him.
"Did you just-," he started, shaking his head ever so slowly, "You did just- I- kid, wow. If this evening brought out anything good at all it's definitely you getting over the whole Mr. Stark thing." It was truly extraordinary to find Tony Stark scrambling for something to say and Peter enjoyed how lost he looked for a moment.
"Let's get out of here and celebrate your achievement with some ice cream, what do you say?"
"Sure, Tony."
His mentor was practically glowing at this point, almost skipping with each step, and Peter couldn't help but grin.
"Oh, and kid?"
"Yeah?"
"I hate the hair gel. It's a lot easier to calm you down when you haven't built a fortress around your curls. And my hands get all sticky from touching it."
"Okay, Tony."
He glared but eventually shrugged. "You know what? I'll take your one word answers if that means you keep calling me Tony."
