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Peter threw his bag on the couch and slumped down next to it. Throwing his head against the backrest, he sighed - not prepared for the grilling he was about to receive at dinner.
“A suspension?!” Tony exclaimed for the third time that evening.
“Yes, dad. A suspension. Wanna repeat it anymore times?” Peter snapped back, staring at his bowl of untouched pasta.
Steve scolded Peter, ”Not the time for attitude, kid.”
Tony stood up, as if to further emphasise his point. He picked up his empty pasta bowl and carried it to the sink whilst talking. He was going on and on about he expected Peter to be better than this, how he thought it was going to be different now.
Both Steve and Tony had somewhat retired, so they suddenly expected the world of Peter. How he was supposed to different - Peter didn’t know.
“I can’t give you that dad!” Peter stood up too, slamming his hands on the table. “I can’t be the perfect fucking son that you want! Back off!”
This was his breaking point. The constant grilling and high expectations from his parents; the disappointed looks his teachers gave him as his grades dropped; the confusion from his friends as he slowly cut them off. He couldn’t handle it anymore.
He needed a fucking break.
“Give me a break dad... please.” Peter mumbled, sliding back down into his chair and dragged a hand through his hair.
Steve took a moment to look at his kid, properly look at him. His hair was a mess, looked like it hadn’t be brushed, washed even, for 3 weeks. His eyes were circled by deep bags, tired and heavy, looking like they could droop close at any second. He cheeks were hollowed and his body was alarmingly skinny, compared to usual and Steve could only wonder how they hadn’t noticed.
Peter’s hands that rested in his hair seemed to shake, subtly, as if he was cold but then his whole body was vibrating and he was sobbing on the table and-
Steve rushed to his side and cradled his son in his arms. He pried Peter’s gripping hands away from his hair and placed gentle kisses to his head.
Tony stood dumbfounded, staring at the scene before him - him too lost at how on earth they could’ve missed this. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and slowly took one of Peter’s hand. He massaged his palm and attempted eased the tension out of his son.
The two of them sat around Peter on his chair, just like that, for a few more minutes. Eventually, his sobbing calmed and shaky breaths were all that were left.
Peter gently nudged his way out of his parents hold and attempted to stand up.
“Pete…” Tony tried.
“‘M sorry. ‘bout the suspension. I’ll do better.” Peter mumbled as he tried to side-step his dad.
Tony persisted, holding his hand to the side and placing it on Peter’s shoulder. “No, I’m sorry. I got angry before even trying to hear your story. And- you- kid you look like you need a week of sleep. What’s going on?”
The boy shook his head, as if to signal that it was ‘nothing’ when in reality, it was everything. Everything was going on and everything was wrong.
“I want to go to sleep.” Peter stated in the end.
His parents nodded wordlessly, lost at what to say, and so he left the kitchen.
Once in the safety of his bedroom, Peter flopped onto his bed, fully clothed and lay awake, staring at the ceiling for the next two hours.
He could hear his parents arguing, over him, over his suspension.
The two greatest superheroes arguing over something so domestic as their son.
It would be comedic if it didn’t make Peter sick to his stomach.
Eventually, the arguing calmed. It become a muffled sound of whispers and the gentle humming of the TV. Peter still couldn’t sleep. He felt guilty.
He hated lying.
Not that he was lying, of course. Just withholding certain truths.
The pressure of being Peter Stark-Rogers was becoming to much to bear, and add that to the pressure forced onto Spider-Man - Peter didn’t know how much longer he could cope.
He wanted a hug.
Sliding out of bed and tiptoeing into the living room, he stared at his parents asleep on the couch before fitting himself perfectly between them.
Steve woke for almost a second, but said nothing, and Peter didn’t notice a thing as he was pulled closer into Steve’s embrace.
—
When Peter woke the next morning, he was stretched across the length of the couch with a blanket draped over his shoulders. He could hear the faint whispers of his parents in the next room and he was almost tempted to fall back asleep.
It wasn’t like he had school to go to anyway.
Peter liked hugs. Everyone knew that. Touch was his love language and he made that clear in every way possible.
Last night was the best night sleep he’d had in weeks. It made him wonder why he’d started cutting off his friends and family.
The half-asleep boy pulled out his phone from his pocket and started googling, annoyed at the results that started back at him.
touch starved
depression
insomnia
validation
eating disorders
anxiety
peer pressure
therapy.
As if Spider-man would ever go to therapy. What a ridiculous idea. He shut off his phone.
“Morning!”
Peter jumped at the voice and his phone fell on his face.
“Sleep well? I didn’t - my back is killing me.” Tony continued talking, lifting Peter’s legs as he sat down and then placing them back on his lap. “Steve says I’m too old to sleep on the couch now, but you and I know who the old one really is.”
Peter gave him a weak smile and brought a sleeved hand to rub his eyes.
“Tired, Bubbles?”
Peter shot a glare at Steve as he joined them in the room. “You can’t call me that anymore. I’m not five! It’s embarrassing.”
Steve chuckled and handed Peter a plate with fives slices of toast. Peter took a moment to recount the slices. He only ever had three for breakfast and that was more than enough for his increased metabolism.
Why five?
Oh.
”Pops, I’m eating fine. I promise. Three meals a day and snacks in between.” Peter pushed the plate away with a grin as he spoke, ignoring the fact that the action contradicted his words.
Steve frowned and looked to Tony, who gave him a worried look.
“Guys come on. I’m fine!” Peter laughed weakly as he saw his parents faces.
“Kid, you cried for close to 15 minutes yesterday at dinner. And then didn’t talk about it. At all.” Tony pointed out, not so gently as he could’ve. “None of that screams fine.”
“Teenagers cry all the time. And you never talk about your emotions so why should I?” Peter shot back as he sat up and tucked his legs close to his chest.
Tony frowned at the act but said nothing of it and carried on. “Uh uh, past tense. It’s unhealthy and we’ve talked about this kind of thing before. It’s not good to keep it all bundled up.”
Peter rolled his eyes and mumbled as he buried his chin between his knees, “Sorry Mr.I’mSoGoodAtEmotions, I didn’t realise you became a therapist.”
“Peter! Enough!” Steve jumped in. “We’re just trying to help you.”
Peter spun to look at Steve and stood up. “You can’t help me!”
He glared at him for five or so seconds before turning in his heels and running out the front door, ignoring the calls of his name.
——
Peter thanked the gods that he was wearing a hooded jumper, not only to protect him from the cold but to hide his identity too.
He sat on the roof, legs dangling over the side, of the Stark Tower. He didn’t want to stray far, and besides, if he focused hard enough he could hear the conversations of his parents as they tried to find him.
He hadn’t done so yet, taking a moment to simply enjoy the few moments of peace on the roof.
He wasn’t going to jump.
It may have crossed his mind as he climbed the side of the Tower.
And as he sat down.
And almost every moment since.
But he wasn’t going to.
Spider-man was not suicidal. He was a superhero for goodness sake! They didn’t get to have feelings like this.
Peter felt the guilt creep in the longer he sat up there. His parents hadn’t done anything wrong, per say. Except maybe care about him too much.
He just wished they could read minds. He hated talking about his feelings. He wanted a hug and he wanted them to know.
It would all be better then.
Peter tried to clear his mind, and took a moment to listen to Tony’s heartbeat, and then Steve’s. He listened out for the sound of their breathing and the faint footsteps around the apartment, the whistles of their hair in the wind from the open window - until he found their heartbeats.
Tony’s heart was panicked and breathy. It was irregular, maybe by design or due to the current situation. He listening to the rhythm, gently tapping on the concrete to it’s irregular pattern it, sounding like drummer with no practice.
Peter pulled himself away and focused on Steve’s heartbeat. It hadn’t changed since the last time he listened to it, which was admittedly last week.
badum, badum, badum.
Slow, regular and relaxed. It was calming to hear, much different to Tony’s.
Peter thought back to the time he was taken to a public hospital after a suit malfunction. It was the only time Peter can think of where Steve’s heart had changed. The beat was erratic and jumpy and so unnerving that Peter had to stop listening. He knew it was because Steve feared for his son’s life.
It was comforting that Steve had enough trust in Peter now, that he was confident he was still alive and his dad’s heartbeat remained the same.
Peter pushed himself away from the edge on that thought.
He turned his phone on, and immediately a hundred messages and missed calls came though. The guilt crept back in.
He pressed on the first notification he saw and held his phone to his ear, tears forming in his eyes.
“Peter!”
Tony’s voice flooded into his ear, and Peter broke down into tears at the sound of it.
“Oh, kid.”
”I- I want a a h-hug!” Peter wailed into the phone as he curled himself into a ball in an attempt to cure his starvation.
“Oh baby, I’m coming to get you, okay? Can you let me know where you are? The system is a little slow right now.”
“T-the r-roof.” Peter hiccuped.
He heard a small gasp thought the phone and someone begging him not to move, promising they’d be right there.
Peter had tuned them out by that point, choosing to focus in on Steve’s heartbeat for comfort. The repetitive, slow beat was all he wanted to hear right now.
It took him a moment, Steve was moving - he wouldn’t stand still, he was going up in circles. It frustrated Peter, all he wanted to hear was something familiar.
Eventually, he landed on it. It was wrong. It was erratic and irregular and so so unfamiliar. It was loud and it kept getting louder as if he was getting closer, when in reality… Steve feared for Peter’s life.
He tore himself away from it in shock and broke down into painful sobs that came from the very root of his chest.
Both Steve and Tony appeared on the roof at the same time, Tony via his suit and Steve by the staircase door in the righthand corner.
Their eyes followed the same path to Peter who sat in the very middle of the roof, curled into a ball, rocking back and forth.
The scene of two nights ago was almost recreated again. Steve wrapped his arms around Peter who pressed his head against his chest, listening to his dad’s heartbeat as it began to slow. Tony sat on his other side, stroking his hair and whispering gentle words of love to his son.
“‘M scared.” A quiet mumbled came from Peter, but both adults heard it loud and clear.
“I know. You’re gonna be okay, Bubbles.” Steve replied softly.
“I- I want,” Peter whispered out the words he had been holding back all month. “I want a hug.”
Despite not making any sense because they were hugging in that moment, all three of them knew what Peter wanted.
——
The next few weeks were full of softly spoken voices and comforting touches.
It calmed Peter’s senses, and he often turned to Steve’s heartbeat for something familiar in the middle of the new atmosphere.
Peter hadn’t said much else after his confession on the roof, and that was okay. Talking wasn’t his strong suit. Tony and Steve did enough of that for him and filled with silences when Peter’s head got too loud.
Peter’s wish was fulfilled last week, when Tony drove his son to therapy, and sat outside the room for 2 hours. Peter left crying, but he knew it was a step in the right direction and he couldn’t be more grateful that his parents finally understood.