Hush Little Baby (Discontinued)

Ch. 17

"Friday, don't tell Tony about this, okay?" Peter wrapped a small bandage around the cut on his upper arm, then pulled the sleeves down, and the collar higher to hide the bruising on his neck. "I don't want him knowing about it."

"I am built to assist, and ensure the physical and emotional health of Boss and his family. I will have to inform him of your wounds."

"No, Friday," he snapped. "Not telling him will keep him from being worried, does that count?"

"I am not sure that Boss would want me to keep this from him."

"Activate protocol Spiderbaby knows best. Code 81701."

"Very well, Peter."

He could hear the disapproval in her tone.

He pushed himself off the bench, pasting a smile on his face before going into the lab with his dad.

"I met Spiderman yesterday," Tony said conversationally.

Peter hummed noncommittally. "Cool."

"M-hm. Says he's a fan of you. Or- well, he said to tell you that he's a fan of me, but he also said that he thought you were interesting, so... there's that."

"That's cool." He tapped his finger on the prototype for the nanobot spider, anxiously biting his lip.

Please don't let him find out.

"I thought about asking him for an autograph, but… I decided against it. Probably already gets enough of that already." Tony picked up his arc reactor model, tossing it from hand to hand. "Hey Pete?"

"Mm?" He lifted his head, playful mood evaporating when he saw the serious expression.

"I need you to be honest with me, okay?" His voice was hesitant, quiet, but firm. "Where did those bruises come from?"

Drug dealer with a grudge.

"What bruises?" He hoped his face wasn't betraying him.

"The ones on your neck, bud. Yeah, those. Did someone give you those, or was it another 'accident'?"

Peter bristled at the question. "I'm fine, Tony. Just- leave me alone, okay? I don't feel like being all chummy today."

"Peter," Tony sighed. "Please? I'm trying, okay? I'm trying to be here for you. I'm trying to be a good dad. I really am. But we need to be able to communicate. I need you to talk to me. Whatever it is, I can help."

"How do you know that?" Peter blinked rapidly, staring down at the table in an attempt to keep his eyes dry.

"It's a dad thing, kiddo." A gentle hand smoothed his hair back. "We always know what to say."

The teen laughed wetly. "It's just too much. Like- my head. It- it won't stop, just, well, going. I can't sleep anymore, I have horrible dreams, and my schoolwork is piling up, and I think I failed my test today, and then there's Decathlon, which is great, but I think they're going to kick me out because I keep missing practices, and May is so stressed all the time, she's working two full time jobs, you know? Just to keep food on the table, and she's never home, and I hate that she's so stressed because of me, and sometimes I think it would be better if- if I wasn't here."

He said the last two words in a whisper, before breaking down in silent sobs, hunching in on himself, and pressing his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

Stop crying.

There was only a split second before Tony tugged him closer, into a hug.

Peter burrowed quickly into the warm, safe circle of his dad's arms.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Tony began talking, soft and hesitant. "I know how hard it is, kiddo. I know that sometimes you want to give up. You want to just let go of everything. I know that it feels like you can't keep breathing, that everything is building up, and it's so heavy that it's going to push you under, and you'll drown."

He pressed his face into the crook of Tony's neck, giving a tiny nod. "Sometimes I don't wanna be here."

He could feel his dad's breath catch in his throat, then a soft kiss was pressed to the top of his head. "I know, kiddie. I know. But I'm not going to let you drown. I'm not leaving you. Not again. I'll help you through this, okay?"

Not again.

The teen gave a tiny nod. "Okay."

"For now we can just watch a movie, and pretend that nothing exists except for us, the movie, and the popcorn that I'm about to make. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

They settled in the main room, Peter dropping onto the soft cushions, and hugging his knees, listening to the soft movements in the kitchen.

His eyelids started to droop, and he settled back against the couch.

I'm safe here.

He didn't hear the soft whispering of his dad, telling someone to 'get a picture, Pep'.

He didn't feel his head being lifted, then set on someone's lap.

He didn't feel the hand in his hair, brushing it away from his forehead.

But he did hear the soft 'I love you, kiddo'.