st_arkintern | (no subject)

Peter takes a breath. He knows he's upset, but he can't quite put a name complicated, uncomfortable feeling churning beneath his chest.

So he drops the talk about Tony. And Alec. And the fight. And the way Tony reacted afterward, and then settles for the less complex and accusatory of the two situations they're dealing with here.

"Are you really unhappy here?"

Tony's back hit the tree, and another sigh heaved from his body. "We need to get home, Peter. I'm not unhappy so much as I am restless."

That wasn't a lie. Tony had found some things to be grateful for, mainly in the new relationships he was forging. But none of it washed away his ultimate duty.

Peter knows better than to ask Tony why he's restless. He's been restless too. It just got easier when you'd been there for almost 13 months. You adapted, regardless of if you wanted to or not.

He scratches an elbow, presses his lips together, and then frowns. He doesn't believe there's any way that they're going to get out of here of their own volition. He's believed that for going on ten months now. And what he believes probably isn't going to change, even with Tony here to take charge and make things happen.

Be he doesn't say any of that.

"What else did you need help with?"

"Can we not?" Tony pinned Peter with his stare, clearly unready to just pretend the previous conversation never happened. "You stuck your damn heels in so much already, so just tell me what's up."

Peter was radiating something, and Tony had a feeling. "If this is because I offered an "internship" to someone else..."

Peter is bristling with irritation even before Tony finally makes the suggestion. Peter was trying to help. He knew that nothing he did was going to change anything. He knew they were both going to be stuck here for however long the powers-that-be decided to keep them here. But he was still trying to help, because he thought it might help Tony.

And maybe if he helped Tony, Tony would find some reason to keep him around.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Liz," he snaps. "So don't even suggest it. You want to spend more time with other people than you do me? Fine. But I've been here far longer than you have, and there's plenty of stuff that I know that you don't. So don't act like you suddenly know more than me about anything."

Tony tilted his chin down to see Peter over his glasses, rendered speechless through quiet shock more than stubbornness for the first time since he'd known the boy. He vaguely knew Peter was capable of that depth of bitterness, but somehow doubted he'd ever see it.

Peter glowers at Tony for a full half minute of that silence. And when Tony doesn't say anything, he adjusts the strap of his backpack, then wordlessly storms off.

Tony snapped out of it the moment the crunching of leaves hit his ears along with Peter's angrily retreating from, and he clicked his tongue. "Oh no, no you don't. Young man. Nu-uh." Tony strode after him, snapping his fingers.

"We're not playing this game."

Peter feels irritation rising up in him, but he doesn't stop. Instead, his pace grows faster.

"I'm not walking away from you, Peter, so don't test me." Tony kept pace at the distance he was at behind the boy, navigating over forest debris easily. "You wanna web-sling your way out? That's cool, I'll Iron Blast after you."

He meant it, too.

"And you wanna know why I'd do that? Because I care a whole damn lot about your suddenly-moody ass and I'm not gonna pretend like I'll leave you to sulk it out in the middle of the creepy woods!"

That's enough to make Peter stop and spin on heel.

"If you cared about me, you haven't shown it," Peter snaps. "We've barely talked the past two weeks and the one time I try to confront you about it, you just tell me that you're paying attention to me now, like that somehow makes up for it."

Tony dropped his voice to cool register now that he had Peter's attention, stopping several paces away. "Let's start by you not putting words in my mouth. Alright? Alright. This isn't me trying to undo anything. Did I not just get through saying you had a list of reasons to be angry, some items likely for very good reason?

He paused, but didn't wait for Peter to interject.

"I got asked a really personal question I wasn't expecting and, quite frankly, didn't want to answer because it felt like a trap. And it was. And this is what we're doing now. But we're here, and we're gonna talk this through like adults."

Peter listens. But he stops listening the second Tony outright states his question was a trap.

"It wasn't a trap," he argues, almost immediately after Tony finishes.

"Traps aren't always intentional." Tony fired back before pausing, as if realizing he was sinking to some ridiculous depths just to argue semantics with a teenager. He shook his head.

"You have clearly been upset about a lot of things from the moment we said "hi" today and you didn't know how to express it. Fear, denial, whatever, I'm sure you know deep down. And now it's coming out all at once. And that's fine." Tony started again, making some placating gestures at the young man. "I get it. Maybe it doesn't seem like it, but I do. And that's why I'm not leaving."

Peter holds his hands out at his side.

"What do you want me to say?" he asks. "I've been here for over a year and I had nobody, but I made friends and I did the best I could despite it. You don't think that I tried to get home? That I wasn't restless?"

"Nobody accused you of not being restless or afraid." Tony replied coolly, purposefully relaxing his face and shoulders. Peter clearly needed to get some things out, and it might as well be at him.

Peter is still on the defensive and it shows in the way his shoulders are held back and his head is held high.

"I'm not afraid," he insists. "I'm just tired of you pretending you're not ignoring me when you're spending more time with everyone else than you are me."

And there, it's out. The core of nearly every argument he's made tonight.

Tony took another deep breath, swallowing every tiny, petty rebuttal he could think of. He had just shared a drink with the literal god who rained hellfire on his city years ago just to make a big statement about how people were more important than pride.

He needed to stand by that.

"I've been distant. I'm sorry. The reasons I was distant--that wasn't you. All of that? My shit." He met Peter's hurt, bitter stare head on. "And I know that doesn't make it better for you." He threw up his hands. "Hell, I even said I wanted you to come to me at any point, but I should have been the one checking in more often."

Peter swallows. If Tony was being honest with him... it was only right for him to be honest with him.

"I missed you," he says. "And May and Ned and everyone else. I don't --" Peter takes a breath. "I don't want to be stuck here forever."

That wasn't something he could even admit to Liz.

Peter's words hit Tony like a punch to the gut. He lowered his head, wondering how far he could sink if the earth chose to swallow him whole where he stood.

Peter was here, away from his home, his aunt, his friends, his regular creature comforts. Of course he'd be scared. Confused. He may have been a superhero, but he was still sixteen years old. A teenager could only handle so much. And, in all his own pain, he hadn't stopped a moment to consider what Peter must have been going through. Maybe he had told himself he was keeping his distance for Peter's sake, but deep down, there were fewer times where Tony Stark considered himself such an utter failure.

He was rooted to the spot by a rapidly mounting belief that he didn't have a right to enter the boy's space, but that wasn't his call to make. He took one slow step forward, then another, putting a cautious hand on Peter's shoulder.

When Tony places a hand on his shoulder, Peter immediately relaxes, and a wave of guilt washes over him.

He shouldn't have argued with him. It wasn't Tony's fault he was stuck here. It wasn't Tony's fault he was alone for as long as he had been. But he'd been so angry. After all that time, Tony was one of the people he most wanted to see.

And now he was here with him and all he could do was get angry at him. He couldn't have known how he felt. He had weeks to say something before this point, and still, he said nothing.

"I'm sorry," he says. It felt like the right thing to say.

"Yeah. You are." Tony tugged him in close, wrapping one arm around his back. "So am I. We can do the sorry thing together."

Peter wraps both of his arms around Tony. He really is grateful to have him here. More than he knows. He might not have had anyone for the last twelve months, but he had someone now.

Someone who was very important to him.

And that was probably more than he could have hoped for. There were plenty of people here who didn't even have that. And now, he did.

"I mean it. Together." Tony reciprocated, both arms tighter around Peter in a solid embrace. He needed it, his protege needed it.

"You, me, Liz, your ankle-biter, Th--the whole gang." Tony cleared his throat. No use for Freudian slips here.

You, me, Liz, the --

-- the what now?

"My ankle-biter?" Peter finally pulls away from his mentor's embrace to give him a confused look.