st_arkintern | (no subject)

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.

"Your daughter." Tony replied, raising his eyebrows to prompt Peter for her name.

"Annie," Peter supplies. "Her name's Annie."

Annie had come up before, but he couldn't fault Tony for not remembering. Names came easily to Peter, but there were plenty of people who had a hard time remembering them.

"I made some web-shooters for her," he says. "They're like my old ones, but they're better."

Not as good as Tony's, though.

"Do you want to finish surveying?" he asks. As Tony pointed out before Peter's jealousy and anger seized hold of him, they did have science they needed to do.

"Annie! Annie. Annie." Tony repeated, snapping his fingers as he stepped back from the hold the two had on each other. "Yeah, yeah. Yeah..."

Tony turtled into his thick hood, exhaling a warm and visible breath into the chilly wooded air. It was so damn fresh, he thought he'd keel over. "I've got a few things to say, unless you do."

Peter shoots Tony a pensive look.

"No," he says, hesitatingly. They just had a fight, so a part of him expects there to be a lecture next. It felt like an inevitability.

"You asked if I was unhappy, and...yeah. About a lot of things. Obviously. Not all of them directly relating to our predicament." Tony straightened up, folding his arms loosely over his stomach as he bounced on his toes to generate a bit of movement. Where was the sudden chill coming from?

"That doesn't mean I don't have a few silver linings." He extended out an arm to gesture right at Peter.

Peter never would have considered himself one of Tony's silver linings, so the suggestion he was is enough to send heat into his face. He looks down and away, trying to look less embarrassed than he feels, but just makes it all the more obvious he's embarrassed to begin with.

"What are you unhappy about?" he asks, once he's managed to reign in his embarrassment. Peter can't understand what he'd have to be unhappy about. Tony was smart, he was rich, he was handsome, he had a really, really nice girlfriend/fiancee, and he was Iron Man. What could he possibly be unhappy about?

"That's a conversation for later. Not for avoidance, just...later." Tony folded his arm back to preserve his warmth.

"This is about you and me, right? And you're one of the last things making me unhappy." 'Even when you're being one bratty son of a gun.

Peter nods solemnly. He wants to say that Tony doesn't make him unhappy either, but... their spat a few minutes ago proved that sometimes he really did. Even if he didn't intend to.

As the silence deepens around them, it seems like a good opportunity to change the topic to something less complicated.

"Did someone tell you about the last Other World yet?"

Or Other Worlds at all?

"Someone should tell me more." Tony nodded at Peter expectantly, turning to finally make their way further into the site.

He wasn't through with the young man yet, but he didn't sense anything would come of forcing the topic.

"The last time the portal opened, it was to Europe," he says. "Liz and I basically went all over the place." And because it seems important to clarify: "It wasn't our Europe, though. The first thing I tried to do was call you and May and Ned and Happy, but... nothing went through. And when I searched online, I couldn't find anything about you, either."

He'd tried. The only superhero subreddit he found was dedicated to fictional superheroes -- not real-life ones.

Resting his hand against a withered tree as he passed, Tony forced his way through the dried understory. "These things open on any kind of schedule?"

Peter shakes his head. "Not that I've noticed," he says. "It's opened three time since I've gotten here. Once in October, then February, and again in June."

A beat.

"It also happened one other time before I arrived here," he says. "In April, I think."

Not that Peter's keeping track or anything.

"Alright." Tony left it at that, filing away Peter's observations for later. There were more knowledgeable types, such as Kitty, to question about it. He held out little hope, given the inn's track record, that it could lead to anything promising regarding the return home, but it definitely necessitated further exploration.

First thing was first, of course. He needed a lay of the immediate land. Currently, it was no different than a misty hike in any other random forest.

Peter continues following along, the sound of the grass crunching beneath their feet the only real sound between them for a few minutes. It's not an uncomfortable silence; it's the kind of silence you have between two people when things are okay and you don't feel the need to just fill the air with words to end the silence.

"How much did you know about the Vulture?" Peter asks, suddenly. The question might seem like it came out of nowhere, but it's something that he's had on his mind for awhile now, and now, in the midst of the silence, seemed like a good time to bring it up. "I mean, after he was arrested."