Tin Can boy || Peter Parker

thirteen

"Do you think they're going to leave soon?" Harley asked as the group of teens stared at the screen in the flat's living room. The hologram displayed against the white wall was showing crowds of reporters with cameras and microphones gathering around the lobby doors. 

"I don't think so", Jason replied from where he was peering over the edge of the balcony to the streets below. MJ at his side, her hair blowing in the wind. 

"Vultures", she scowled. 

"I agree", Callum huffed, arms waving. "He was kidnapped for god's sake. Have a little respect".

"How did you guys even get in here?" Peter asked curiously as he watched the reporters on the camera footage idle in anticipation. Tate had been wondering that too. The people waiting at the front doors obviously were determined. They were blocking the doors rather successfully. 

"We snuck through a back entrance. Happy let us in", Charley shrugged. He then frowned at Peter. "How did you get in?" 

Peter blinked, brain trying to come up with an excuse. He had in fact spider crawled up the wall and entered via the very same balcony that Jason and MJ was standing on sometime last night and had not really left yet. "I came last night. They weren't here then". That prompted Charley to smirk at him and send a wink over to Tate. 

Harley shot them a curious look. The blonde was staying in the guest room right next to Tate's. He had not known that Peter had stayed the night, having woken up past breakfast. The asian boy rolled his eyes and decided not to go down that route. Everything was messy enough without Harley or the others growing curious about Peter's sneaking abilities. 

 "Maybe they found out that you were supposed to go back to school today?" Ned suggested. 

"That was the plan", Tate sighed. "Dad took one look outside this morning and decided he needed to sue a few news companies before I leave". 

"Besides, who would keep me entertained? I am a honoured guest", Harley drawled as he leaned back on the sofa and swung an arm over Tate's shoulders. The smaller boy shoved a cushion over his face and stood up. The air was cold as he joined the others on the balcony, Harley spluttering behind him. Below the crowd of reporters looked like bugs. Bugs with shiny eyes from all their camera lenses. 

"It's getting cold", he voiced. "Let's go inside".  There must have been a particular expression on his face as Jason and MJ both moved without complaint. Tate sparing one more look at the group below before closing the balcony door. Shoulders easing as he heard the lock click into place. 

"This will all blow over right?" Abe spoke up through a mouthful of breadstick. Tate wondered where the other boy had even gotten them from. He had laid out a plate of cookies on the coffee table as soon as the group of teens had entered the apartment, which were now half gone due to Jason, but no breadsticks. Abe and his mysteries. 

"Eventually", Charley guessed. "But it's hot news. Tony stark's son. Heir to the company. The kid of Iron man". 

"I'm no heir to anything. Not the hero title, not the company. Nothing". It came out more bitter than Tate intended. He stomped back over to the sofa and dropped onto the pillows at Peter's side. The brown haired boy raising an arm wordlessly and Tate rested his head against Peter's chest. 

"You're not heir to the company?" Ned seemed confused. 

"I mean, technically I am. But if dad and Pep ever have their own child, that kid would be the heir. I have my own inheritance from my mom. I am not really interested in Stark industries. Yeah, the making hero tech is cool, but unlike Harley and Peter here, I don't eat, sleep and breath science and mechanics". He poked Peter affectionally in the ribs at the comment. 

"That's just because you are dull", Harley retorted through a mouthful of cookie. "You used to dream about being a hero like Tony. Remember when we used to play in the fields? We used to argue over who would be the hero and who would be the villain. You always wanted to be the hero". 

Whatever had soured in Tate as soon as they had been notified of the reporters stalking his building's front doors, courtesy of Charley's gossip pages, seemed to grow more bitter at the memory.  His scars ached and there was a bad taste in the back of his mouth. "Yeah, well things change. I am no hero". He didn't shout but his tone was dark to match his scowl. The group all shot each other anxious looks. 

It was those looks and the sudden tension filled silence that spurred Tate into getting up and leaving the room. His feet silent as he headed for his bedroom. No one called after him but there was a moment where he had almost made it to his door before he heard someone come and follow him. 

Tate pushed open his bedroom door and felt the gloom of it's half closed blinds envelop him. The screens of his monitors were all dark. Homework littered his desk and Peter's hoodie was lying discarded across the back of his chair. Behind him, he heard the door open and shut quietly. He inhaled shakily at the sound of two footsteps behind him rather than one. 

"Hey Tate", Harley's voice broke the quiet. "Sorry. I should not have brought that up with the"- the words 'the accident' the  went unsaid. It hung in the air though, heavy and frustrating.

"Tate?" Peter sounded worried. Tate didn't like making Peter worried. "Is there anything I can do?" 

Tate let out a choked sob. He didn't know what he was feeling. Anger, frustration, fear. All of it in a bubbling mess in his chest that had been brewing ever since he had found out his identity had been exposed. He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, half turning away from the two boys in his doorway. There was a sound of the door clicking shut and hands on his wrists, gently pulling his arms away. 

"Hey", Peter's voice was soft. "Look at me. It's okay". Tate blinked teary eyes at him. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just overwhelmed and I'm so frustrated", he exhaled harshly, more annoyed at himself for reacting like this than he was at any of his friends. 

"I know. And it's okay". Tate leant his head on Peter's shoulder and let himself sag into the other boy's arms, body going limp. Peter held him up easily, as he knew he would, arms cradling him close.  Tate heard the door open and close as Harley left and part of him felt bad that he had blown up over a comment. 

"I used to want to be a hero so badly", he sniffed into Peter's shirt. Voice muffled and small. "Then my mom died and I knew that it wasn't anything more than a childish dream. I cannot ever be a superhero". 

Peter hummed soothingly, thumbs rubbing circles into Tate's waist. "That doesn't mean you cannot be a hero. You are already a hero. You saved me. You saved Rhodes. You're my hero". The kiss pressed to Tate's hair seemed to punctuate the sentence. 

Tate sobbed. All the anger over his crippling injuries, the frustration of being kidnapped, the fear he experienced every time he saw his boyfriend or his father fight criminals, the anxiety he felt over his life being plastered all over the news. He let it go in huge chest heaving sobs that soaked Peter's tshirt and rasped against his throat. All through it, messy and unnecessary as Tate felt it was, Peter sat through it. Holding him close when Tate thought he would fall apart. 

unedited

Tate needs to catch a break. Being a teen is hard enough without all the stuff he and Peter are dealing with.