Chapter 85 - Like A Movie
Lying on his back, Pete could still see the fingerprints he had left on the ceiling about a week ago when Ned had visited. The look on his face, the awe, and excitement after the initial shock had been such a pleasant contrast compared to the pained looks he'd find on Pepper and Mr. Stark's faces whenever his abilities came up. Pepper and Tony.
Pete shook his head in annoyance. He had been getting better with it, had tried. It just still felt a little wrong.
His eyes flickered back up to the ceiling, staring at his prints. Ned's visit had been such a highlight. Climbing up there, showing him, it had felt great. Not just that Ned had been around, but to use his powers. Having fun with it. There were no words for how much he missed it. How much he missed being out there, being of some use.
Helping people.
It had also put the uneventful day-to-day life he was stuck with now into perspective. It was almost dreary enough for him to be excited about the tutors Pepper had picked out.
Almost.
They hadn't just set him up with a new schedule for his education though, but also with therapy.
It had been a while since he had slept well through the night. Mr. Stark; Tony. He meant well. Of course he did. There was no question about that at all. He's been worried ever since he had found out about the nightmares, even more than he had been before. Or... well, a different kind of worried.
The therapist was supposed to help. Talking about all the shit that he had been experiencing was supposed to help, but it certainly didn't help him sleep any better. If anything, his dreams turned darker, the faces of those kidnappers, the attackers from the alleyway. Clarke. If anything, the faces were becoming a little clearer, bigger, more real. It didn't make him want to close his eyes because they'd be there. Waiting.
Tony came by his room every night without fail. It was the only thing Pete would look forward to these days, there was no denying it. It didn't mean he would have to tell anyone else. Sometimes, Pete would lie awake in the dark until the door to his room opened. Most of the time, Tony would be able tell if he was asleep or not. He would come and sit by his bed, a hand on Pete's arm or in his hair.
It was grounding. Anchoring.
Not in a cheesy, soap opera kind of way. It wasn't like all of a sudden Pete's problems evaporated and things were all sunshine and rainbows. It wasn't like Pete couldn't fall asleep without him next to his bed. Not like he was a toddler.
Tony just being there didn't just make his nightmares disappear, either. They would still be there, waiting in the dark for his mind to drift off to sleep.
But when he would wake up, more often than not it was to the strong, rhythmic beat of Mr. Stark's heart. And it seemed like he didn't mind Pete crying into his shirt, wrinkling it as he would grab fist-fulls of fabric in his sleep. He had even torn one or two. Tony would just be there right next to him, his arms wrapped around him, murmuring that everything was alright. That he was safe. Like a real dad.
It was one of those nights. Pete's day had been exhausting. Not just exhausting; draining, nerve-wracking.
Ever since he had told Doctor Turner about the particular nightmare about Ben, about his voice, his last words that just wouldn't leave him alone, she had brought it up again and again.
"We're helping your brain to replace these negative thoughts with more accurate and less distressing thoughts," she had said. "It's all about control, Pete. You're the one who is in control."
It was supposed to desensitize him, talking about his trauma - as she would call it - in a controlled, safe environment. But it didn't seem to help all that much. Not yet anyway, cause once again he woke up, his heart thundering in his chest, his head ringing with Ben's voice.
"Shh, it's alright."
Tony.
Pete moved closer against him, muffling his ragged breathing against the fabric of his shirt.
"Just breathe, buddy."
It was easier said than done. His heart was still racing so fast, every breath he drew was so shallow and jittery it sounded like a pathetic little sob. But Tony's hand was in his hair, brushing through it with slow and regular strokes. Pete pulled air into his lungs every time his fingertips brushed against his head.
"There you go," Tony whispered. "You're alright."
He moved a little, maybe trying to catch a glance of his face but Pete clung to him, hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt.
"The alley again?" His voice was calm, almost conversational, like this was just what they did now and in a way it was. "It's like you were out of breath from running."
But Pete shook his head. The dream hadn't been about the night he had gotten stabbed.
"It was Ben," he mumbled quietly.
"Ah," was all Tony said, his hand still brushing slowly back and forth.
It was the one dream that came to Pete more often than any other. The one he despised the most.
The alleyway, that had been a mistake. He had been distracted and careless and had paid the price for it: a deep gash in his abdomen. Being kidnapped by Sallic, Clarke threatening him at the hospital. It had been scary but he had been overwhelmed by them, had done what he could to get away, to stay strong but simply lost.
Ben though. When it came to Ben, Pete had been useless. Petrified. Frozen to where he had been cowering on the ground. If he'd just done something, anything...
"Pete, you gotta breathe."
"I am," he croaked. "I... I am."
He pressed his eyes shut, trying to focus. On his breathing. On his own heart rate, trying to match it to the rhythmic thumping of Tony's.
Bit by bit, the tension ebbed away. He listened to Tony's voice instead of his bitter thoughts and as his mind settled, his pulse did, too. Slowly, he untangled his fingers from Tony's shirt. His hands left behind creases and a few damp spots because they had been gross and sweaty.
"Sorry," he mumbled, keeping his eyes low.
With a huff, his own hand still combing through Pete's hair, Tony shook his head, then blew out another long breath. "Me too, buddy."
Pete frowned. "For what?"
He risked a glance at Tony's face, but his eyes - while open - weren't really focused on anything. With how dark it was in his room, Tony likely simply didn't see much.
"I made all of it just worse, didn't I?" His words rang quietly around the room, more like he was saying it to himself. "I'm really sorry, bud."
Pete pressed his eyes close again but they wouldn't stop burning. So instead, he let his head drop back down, hiding them against Tony's chest.
It wasn't really true, was it? What did it matter what Tony had said on the stand? What did it matter who shot Ben in the end. It was how Pete had frozen that was the problem. That he could have helped, could have done something, anything. But he hadn't.
The minutes ticked by and they just stayed like that, Tony still holding him. But with the adrenaline from the nightmare still running in his veins, Pete couldn't keep still. It wasn't that the position wasn't comfortable but even as Tony's head dipped against his, his hands on Pete's back rubbing circles that were supposed to calm him, Pete's muscles just kept twitching.
With a long breath, Tony suddenly moved out from underneath him.
"Come on..." He squeezed his upper arm, then swung his feet off the bed. "FRI, a little light, please?"
Right away, the room got a little brighter.
"What..." At first, Pete was about to panic. Maybe he had been too clingy, too twitchy, until his brain caught up to the fact that Tony had asked him to follow. "What's going on?"
"It's..." Tony inclined his head towards the door. "I have something I want you to see."
Braced on his hands, Pete was half-sitting up, blinking against the low light shining from the spots on the ceiling. "Show me what?"
"You'll see." Clapping his hands together, he gestured for Pete to move, then stretched out a hand in his direction. "Come on, let's go."
Still confused, Pete took his hand. He let himself be pulled up onto his feet, though they were still a little wobbly. Anchoring just like he had before, Tony slung his arm around his shoulders and directed him out of the quarters down to the corridor that led to the lab. And they did head for the lab at first but then stopped at few doors down on the other side of the corridor.
With a gesture from Tony, FRIDAY had the doors slide open. Hesitantly, Pete followed him into the room. It actually didn't look all that different from the lab. The tiles and walls looked the same and there were a couple of workbenches, a long one in the middle of the room and a smaller one on the far wall.
"It used to be Bruce's," Tony said, gesturing around the room. "But I figured..." He shrugged.
Pete shook his head. "What... I don't understand."
"I just thought that it'd be good." His arms stretched wide, he had stalked into the middle of the room before he turned, facing Pete. "A place that's yours. Where you can work on... stuff. Stuff, you're interested in. Maybe... maybe Connor or Lane will come up with some projects for you, too."
"So..." Pete swallowed hard. "This is for school."
"It's for whatever you want to use it for. I mean, that's kind of the point, right?" There was a smile on Tony's face that didn't fit the unreadable glint in his eyes. "That you have your own space."
His own space. Pete gritted his teeth. The way Tony said it made it sound like a good thing, but it seemed pretty clear what this was. Mr. Stark had banned him from his lab. Weeks ago, he had thrown him out for his... his mistakes. The hacking. Not listening. He wasn't going to let him back in now, matching DNA or not.
Pete interlocked his arms across his chest. "So, it's for school." He bit his lip, not looking at Tony.
"You don't like it."
He rolled his shoulders in a non-committal way, pretending to be interested in the interior design. There were a couple of couches and a coffee table that looked a lot nicer than the ones in Mr. Stark's lab. If not new then barely used. He stalked towards the workbench in the middle of the room just to be doing something other than having to stand there and look at Tony.
"Well, just..." Tony's voice had turned a little raspier. "You can just let me know if there's anything that... that would make this a little more you. I mean, we can get some Star Wars posters or... or maybe you want a bigger table for the Lego stuff or a fridge for snacks or I don't know... shelves."
Pete's fingers ran over the smooth surface of the workbench. It was the same make as Tony's, just longer, easily allowing two people working on it at once. Like they had a million times crammed together in the lab - Tower and Compound - his hand moved to the drawer and pulled it open. Peering inside, his heart gave a painful squeeze. His tools were in there. The same non-magnetic, titanium tools that he had unwrapped on his birthday. Only—
"Wait, these... these aren't mine."
"What?" Tony sounded truly confused. "Of course they are."
His fingers curled around the 2.5 hex key. One of the two he had carried to the courthouse. He pulled it out, holding it up. "Well, this one was in my room this morning then, so how did it get here?"
Tony's eyebrows were knitted closely together, deep confusion on his face. "Buddy, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"My tools." He waved the screwdriver at Tony. "The ones you gave me."
"Oh." The frown on his face lifted a little. "No, but these are yours, too. It's... it's a bigger set and I thought... I mean, I know you like them, so..."
He did like them. He loved them. They were light, easy to handle, fit into his hands perfectly.
And they were Tony's. His own design, Pete was pretty sure.
With a quiet sigh, Tony stepped a little closer. "You're bored. I know you want something to do with yourself."
Pete huffed. "And you know what it is that I want to do with myself, but you won't let me."
"You make it sound like it's fun for me to keep you here."
"Well, then just... please..." Pete stepped around the workbench. "You can just decide to let me go back out there. Let me feel useful."
"I can't, kid, I..." For a long second, Tony pressed his eyes close, then looked right at Pete. "I'm scared for you."
Pete's shoulders sacked. That wasn't fair. "But you let me go out there for months!"
"And that was wrong." With a shake of his head, he moved a little closer. "Kid, if I'd known then what I know now, I would have never agreed. Never."
Pete sniffed out a joyless laugh. "Because Aiden Stark is more valuable than Peter Parker?"
"Because Aiden Stark is 13 years old kid," he snapped back, barely containing his agitation. "13 years old. Not 15."
"I was 14 when we met so..." Pete mumbled.
But a glance at Tony confirmed that none of that mattered. His hand was in his hair, his eyes pressed shut in a clear effort to reign himself in. "Let's just..." Tony's eyes blinked open. "This isn't forever. It's for now."
"Yeah, right..."
"I promise, kid. When you're a little older..."
"How much older?"
Tony's mouth was open but he didn't have an answer.
Of course he didn't, because this wasn't about his age, it was about him. All Tony saw now when he looked at him was a little boy. All he saw were the last few weeks, how he had been hurt and beaten, but that had nothing to do with being Spider-Man.
"Let me prove it then."
"Pete..."
"Let me prove that I can do it." Pete stepped a little closer, barely able to contain how much he needed this. "Please, let me prove it to you."
His heart sank when Tony gave his head a firm shake. "This isn't up for debate."
Desperation was crawling up his spine. "I would be safer."
The glance Tony sent him spoke volumes.
"I would," Pete bit out. "People wouldn't ever suspect that you'd let me go out there as Spider-Man so even if some of them believe Clarke now, if you let me go out to patrol, then they won't! None of them would believe it's me. It'd be safer!" His arms were shaking with a new wave of adrenaline. "Please. Just give me a chance to prove it."
Tony swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists like he was holding himself back. "And what if something happens, hm?"
Pete shook his head. "I'll be careful."
"Oh, okay," Tony chuckled but there was no humor in his tone. "So, before you weren't being careful. When you got stabbed? When you got kidnapped?"
His face grew a little hotter. "I didn't have the suit you made then..."
"They shot at you in the suit, Pete!"
"Well, they didn't really hit me though, did they!"
Darkness crept into Tony's features. "Clarke did."
"He..." His hands balled up by his side, he shook his head. "He just grazed me. I was fine."
There was a pause, a second of silence, before Tony's voice rang chillingly cold. "Well, it was close enough for the bullet to stick."
The protest died on his tongue. "Wh-what?"
Tony's mouth had popped a little open, pulling in long breaths, as he clearly tried to pull himself together and quickly, his face did soften. "It's... The bullet was latched on your suit's heel."
"But..." Pete shook his head. "I... I didn't..."
"No, you didn't feel it." With a sigh, Tony shifted from one foot to the other. "I thought as much. The suit encapsulated it."
Pete could still remember how soft to the touch the fabric had been, how sturdy and durable, a protective shield. Had it really just absorbed Clarke's bullet?
"It's how I connected the dots."
His forehead pulled into a frown as his eyes shot over at Tony.
"The ballistics from that bullet." Tony's throat moved but his eyes wouldn't leave Pete's face. "It was a match with the ones that killed Ben."
Oh. Pete's head was swimming, the room tilting around him. Faster than he even realized that his knees were buckling, Tony was by his side.
"I got you."
Strong arms held him upright. After a moment of hesitation, they pulled him close. His mouth was dry, his face not so much. Realization trickled into his mind, slowly at first but then it hit him all at once. The skin on his arms, his neck, and all the way down to the back of his legs erupted in goosebumps.
It was true then. It wasn't just something Tony had made up to dispose of a man that had become a danger to the Avengers, to Pete and Tony himself. It hadn't been a desperate last minute attempt.
It was true.
"Buddy... you're kinda freaking me out," Tony panted, his arms still tightly wrapped around him.
Pete nodded against him, not even sure why.
"You okay?"
"He... he shot Ben."
"Right, come on..." With a tug on his upper arms, Tony made him move towards the sofas. Still guiding him, Tony pushed him into the cushions.
"Oh..." Pete craned his head, bobbing on the upholstery. "That's... that's actually comfy..."
With a cluck of his tongue, Tony bent down and picked up a bottle of water from a compartment under the table. "Weird way to kick me while I'm down, kid." He had already unscrewed the top when he pressed the bottle into Pete's hands. "Drink."
Obediently, Pete did. The water was quite cold, definitely helpful in winding him down. The more his mind calmed the more he dreaded putting down the bottle for that would mean more talking. It was empty all too quickly though. With a pop, he detached it from his lips, eyes flickering towards Tony.
"You better?"
He rolled his shoulders and dipped his head in a mix of a shrug and a nod.
"I know you hate talking about this."
Pete huffed. "Did she tell you that?" As Tony's expression morphed into confusion, he added, "Doctor Turner."
"Oh." Tony waved him off. "No, I'm not really allowed to talk to her."
"What?" Pete shook his head. "I mean... what?"
"Yeah well... Pepper apparently is worried that I'll try to bribe her out of the whole doctor-patient confidentiality."
Pete's eyes grew round.
"Which I'm not, for the record." With a sigh, Tony let himself drop into the cushions. He groaned as his eyes flickered shut. "Damn, this is comfortable."
A smile tugged on Pete's lips. He pulled his knees up to his chest, sliding deeper into the cushions. It was quiet and almost peaceful as they sat there next to each other. There was a sense of exhaustion, not just hanging around Tony, but also most definitely weighing down Pete. He hadn't even done anything all day and still...
He squinted to the side at Tony. They'd been talking whenever Pete had woken from a nightmare. Not a lot, but always a little. But usually, that was in the dark of his room. The lab while not quite as bright as Tony's would be, was still well lit, easily showing every emotion that flickered across his face. Tony's too. As Pete was looking at him, it seemed clear that the mask he so often wore was gone now.
It was just them after all.
"So..." At the sound of his voice, Tony's looked right at him. "How was your meeting?"
His eyes popped open in clear surprise. They hadn't talked about that. In fact, Pete was pretty sure that Tony in particular but Pepper and Rhodey, too, were trying to actively keep him away from all the Avengers business.
"I do still have my phone," Pete shrugged.
"Hm." With a grimace, alluding to his sore back, Tony sat up a little straighter. "You worried about that? The pardon?"
Pete pulled his knees a little tighter. He hadn't pondered about it a lot, because... well... because it truly felt like he wouldn't need to.
"No," he said, his voice clearer than he had expected to sound. "I trust you."
He glanced at Tony, whose face lit for just a second before it fell once again.
"You really don't like the lab." His eyes drifted over the room like he was trying to figure out what was missing. "I know you always liked those robotics classes and the chem course and I thought that when your friend visits, you know, there's enough room for the two of you to... well, to try out anything you want."
Pete sat up a little straighter. "When Ned visits."
"Yeah." Tony glanced back at him. "You had a good time, right? When he was here."
"I did," Pete breathed.
"Well, so... you can invite him whenever you like and then..." He gestured at the room. "You can go crazy. Well," his eyes shifted to Pete once more. "In an orderly fashion."
"Right," Pete giggled.
It was a large workbench. Definitely enough space for them to play around with robotics projects. But then... how often would Ned come out here? The Compound might have been new and exciting now but with over an hour to drive, would his parents let him even if he wanted to go? With school back in session, weekdays were not likely to work. Every other weekend maybe, if Pete was lucky.
"There's that long face again," Tony mumbled next to him. "You know, if you tell me what's bothering you, I might be able to fix it."
With a shake of his head, Pete looked away. It would just be another argument. He was sick of the arguments. But then, his tongue was faster than his brain.
"You said that you forgave me," he mumbled.
At first, Tony didn't respond at all. Maybe he had said it too quietly. Maybe— No. A glimpse to his side made clear that Tony had heard him alright.
"This... Pete, this isn't a punishment." The surprise in his voice was palpable.
Biting his lip, Pete tried to just let it go.
"Buddy..."
"You took the suit. You won't give it back. Now, you... you ban me from your lab." His eyes were on his feet. "Sure feels like it to me."
"Okay, no... stop." Tony's hand was on his shoulder, maneuvering him just enough that he could look into Pete's face. "Back at the Tower, yes, okay... Back then, I was mad and..." He blew out a sigh. "And I know I was harsh. Too harsh."
"Because you trusted me and then..." Pete's eyes flickered to his. "I messed up."
"You did, buddy." Tony blew out a sigh. One of his hands moved up, cupping Pete's cheek. "But that's all that was, okay? A bit of a mess and I got over it. We're so far past all that. It's all forgiven. It's all..." He shook his head. "It wasn't yours then. Or... well..." Tony cringed. "I mean, it was but I didn't know it then and neither did you. But now..."
His hand slipped off Pete's face and with a gesture from him, FRIDAY pulled up a projection that listed a whole battery of files right in front of them. He knew that list. He'd seen it on Tony's ghost drive. Been obsessed with it even back then.
"But... that's..."
"The videos," Tony nodded, squeezing his shoulder. "Yeah."
Pete's head was swimming. No, not his head. His vision. He tried to blink away the tears, not sure what to say.
Tony scrunched up his nose, studying his face. "Are those like... happy tears? Because I really thought you would like this."
With a hiccough, Pete smiled and nodded. "Yeah," he bubbled out wetly, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. "Yeah, I do. I really do."
Tony bit his lip. "You want to pick one?"
Eyes wide, Pete looked up at Tony. "What?"
Tony's face was a little pale. "Do you... do you want to watch one?"
His breath was caught in his throat. "Right... right now?"
"Yeah. With me. Or..." Tony pressed his lips into a thin line, eyebrows knitted closely together. "I mean, I can... leave. This is your space. That's what I wanted for you. And I'm not..." He screwed up his face like the idea was preposterous. "I'm not banning you from my lab. I want you around more, not less. This here... it would just be something where you can go when you're... well, mad, you know, at me or... or... I mean - less likely - but Pepper, too, maybe."
With a shaky laugh, Pete shook his head. He shifted closer to Tony's side. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around him, burying his face against Tony's neck. It felt right like this. It felt so right.
Bit by bit, Pete turned, Tony's arms holding onto him, as he eyed the long list of videos. He had seen them all. Many more than once in the dark of his old bedroom hidden under the covers. There was a slight tremor in his hand as he scrolled through the projection. Would it matter which one? Would Tony judge him on this pick? He'd already know, right? He'd seen the access data. The clips Pete had watched the most.
His finger hovered over one of the clips. It didn't matter, did it? With a flick of his hand, FRIDAY's projection changed. The folders and files disappeared and instead, the first frame of the video blew up even larger in front of them. Pete swallowed hard, staring right ahead. The room around them was flooded with colors, different shades of turquoise and blue reflected from the water and the clear sky, warm light that shone off the white sand beach. The sound of the waves and laughter echoed across the lab. Then there was a little boy who ran out into the shallow water followed by his dad.
It had struck him even the first time he had seen it, how young Mr. Stark looked there. Tony. Happy and relaxed. There were no dark circles under his eyes, no scars on his skin. He roared like a cross-breed of dinosaur and lion, his hands made exaggerated gabbing motions as he stalked the little boy. That little boy, dark-haired and round-faced.
Pete squinted at the projection. It had been so easy to think himself into the place of that little boy when he had been alone in his room, daydreaming about memories, about a life that hadn't been his. Or so he had thought. Somehow it seemed harder now, to think that he had really been there, on that beach, trudging through the shallow water that went up to the little boy's hip. That it was him shrieking with laughter and hugging his dad who had stumbled and fallen over, lying on his back like a turtle, his kid in his arms.
A shiver went down his back and he squinted to the side. Tony wasn't watching the projection though. Tony was watching him, his face soft. The corners of his mouth twitched when Pete met his eyes. With a little wink, his eyes openly studied Pete's face, never looking away.
There was another laugh, closer to the camera. "Good job, Addy! You've slain the big bad dinosaur!"
Pete had forgotten about that. His eyes shot back to the projection. He had never even met her when he had first watched this. The warmth and joy in Pepper's voice, it rang so different, so familiar, now after all the time, he had spent with her.
"Dinosaur?" Tony's voice was clear as he gasped, mockingly scandalized.
It was so Mr. Stark, so Tony, Pete couldn't help but smile.
The camera panned down to little Aiden as he ran up to Pepper and hugged her around her legs. Her laugh turned a little higher as the soaking wet boy pulled himself flush against her. The frame shook along with her laughter then pulled back up to Tony, still sat on his ass in the water, arms thrown up in the air like he'd been abandoned at sea. Only moments later, the little boy was back in the frame running back into the arms of his dad.
It was a scene from a dream. From a movie. Not a home movie, but a snapshot out of a life that seemed so perfect compared to his.
Pete's heart was beating in his throat. "I wanted it to be me," he whispered, eyes never leaving the screen, never leaving the laughing faces of the little boy and his dad.
Tony was quiet at first. His arm still held him close, his skin warm.
"I just... I never had anything... anything like that," he added quickly, like that would make more sense. "I don't... I don't mean the vacations..." Though he hadn't had those either. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been to a beach. "Just... videos and pictures with... with my dad. I just... when I watched it..." Pete swallowed hard and shook his head. It had made more sense in his head, now he was just babbling and—
"You've always had this, buddy." Tony's voice was low, a little shaky. His dad's voice. He pulled him close, his lips pressed against his temple. "It's always been yours and it's always been here. Waiting for you."
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[author's note:
Happy Sunday guys! As promised, this was part two of yesterday's chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you guys for the lovely comments and the kudos!
Special thanks go out to Spagbol99 for all her help! You should go and read the new Bio!Dad fic called "Missing Links" on AO3 because it's awesome!]
