Long Days

Chapter 11

Maybe it was the physical exercise that he hadn't done in a while, or maybe it was the relief from knowing that the area was a little safer tonight, but after running around in the slushy gray snow that was piled up on sidewalks and punching the consciousness out of a few guys much bigger than himself, Peter was feeling slightly better. To top it off, having been wrapped in his high-tech suit, he was feeling warmer than he had felt under his blankets at home. Yeah, he could do this forever.

Not hearing any immediate scuffles, he climbed to a nearby rooftop and laid down. The thrill from the last encounter was wearing off, and he began to feel his exhaustion creep back. Eventually, he allowed his eyes to slide shut ‒here was as good a place as any for a runaway's quick nap.

Not a minute after he closed his eyes, Peter's ears twitched from the sound of a distant humming noise. He sat up and inspected the skies. At first, he couldn't see anything, but it didn't take long for his eyes to focus on an unusual star in the distance.

No, not a star. Stark.

Held still by shock, Iron Man himself was hitting the rooftop before Peter could get himself to stand. When the metal armor smoothly receded, the boy continued to stare at his mentor with his mouth gaping, not believing that the man had actually responded.

"Got your text," Tony said, skipping proper greetings and holding up his own phone. "Bit of an odd meeting place, but, you know, whatever gets the words flowing." Tony shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets as he strode over to where Peter sat.

Peter didn't speak until Stark was practically standing right over him. He pulled off his mask and managed to stutter, "Mis-Mister Stark."

Tony looked down at the spider-kid. His hair was a mess, and he still had bags under his eyes which seemed to pull his entire face down into a look of hopelessness. When the teen said nothing else, Tony thought that he probably looked a little intimidating. He took a breath as he bent down, pausing at a squat before deciding to fully sit right next to the kid on the dirty and very cold rooftop. At least the kid picked a spot that wasn't totally covered in snow.

Now sitting next to Peter, Tony nudged him with his elbow. "How's it going, kid?"

"Fine," Peter responded too quickly then looked away. Like last time, the response was purely a reflex. He told everyone that everything was fine.

"Pete," Tony said flatly, calling out the teen on his obvious lie.

Peter couldn't find his words. He wanted to tell everything to Tony. Ever since he had sat in the library ‒what feels like a lifetime ago‒ Peter had imagined what the conversation would be like when he finally told the truth. He wanted to hear Tony say that everything would okay, that he could fix everything more easily than he could fix the engine in an old car. But now, with the man sitting right next to him, he was suddenly filled with shame and couldn't open his mouth.

Hoping to spark the conversation, Tony revealed, "I talked to Aunt May. She's worried about you." Then, after a pause of silence, he added, "I am, too, kid."

When Peter turned back, Stark was already looking at him. As soon as their eyes met, Peter pulled his face away again, his eyes brimming with tears. He brought his knees to his chest and buried his head under his arms. Before long, his shuddered breathing evolved into hard sobs.

Tony sighed. "Come here," he commanded gently, wrapping his arms around the shaking boy and pulling him close. Like Pepper always did to calm his own nerves, Tony rubbed Peter's back and whispered "It's alright. I've got you. You're safe. It's okay" over and over and over again until Peter's crying could lessen enough for him to form coherent sentences. Tony would have been fighting off frostbite if it weren't for the adrenaline running through his veins, picking his heart rate up and keeping him vigilant while the child cried.

Eventually, Peter quieted but remained in Starks' arms, relishing in the feeling of safety that they brought. Tony was committed to sitting for as long as Peter needed. However, after some time in silence, a thought hit Tony. "Pete, where are you supposed to be? Is someone looking for you?" He didn't want the situation to get any worse for the Parkers; the last thing they needed was for Peter to get in trouble at the foster home.

Between the occasional hiccup, Peter mumbled, "I don't care who's looking for me. I'm running away." As if to prove it, he pulled his backpack closer to him. It had miraculously survived the tumbles and scrapes from the night's street fights despite being stapled together.

The teenager sounded much younger than his true age, talking about running away and ignoring concerns or consequences. The older man sighed. He remembered feeling a similar way back when he was Peter's age. There was a certain peace that came with committing to a solitary life and leaving parents behind. In all fairness, sometimes running away from home was truly the best option. But not for this kid. Not now. Running away was a terrible idea. "Kid, I know it's bad, but you've gotta go back to the house."

"No," Peter spoke firmly, sitting upright. "I won't go back. I don't belong there‒"

"You don't belong on a roof in the middle of the night either," Tony interjected firmly.

"But I can help people here!" Peter's voice was starting to rise. Why didn't Mr. Stark understand?

"Listen, Pete," Tony ordered. "If you go back to that group home, I can help you and May. We can't work the system if you're not in it." It was clear that the kid still wasn't going to budge with his eyes averted from his mentor. Tony sighed. "Trust me, kid. When you go back to your own apartment, you'll be able to patrol every night again."

Pulling his knees even closer and dropped his face to the ground, Peter whispered, "You don't understand how bad it is. I'll never be able to go home."

Tony's chest ached at the memory of their empty and cold apartment. He said, "Pete‒"

"It was so cold," Peter continued, ignoring Stark or maybe too far into his memories to hear him. "I always wore sweatpants and hoodies to bed, and I was still cold. And we didn't even really have hot food to warm me up. One time, I ate half a can of soup for lunch and the other half for dinner, and I still felt like I was eating too much." Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I wanted to run away and drop out of school because I'm on the verge of failing if I'm not already, but the truth is that I always dreamed of going to Harvard for biochemistry or of being like you and going to MIT, maybe for bioengineering. I want to sleep and have jeans with no holes in them, and I want to rejoin the decathlon team and not worry about where to get food for the day. I want to feel safe again..." He trailed off.

Tony quickly wiped his sleeve across his eyes before Peter could catch him. He wanted to give the kid space to talk about it, but he couldn't stop the sympathy from driving him to tears. All his spider-kid wanted was to be a kid again. When in this horrible world did that become too much to ask for?

"Peter," Tony began. He took a breath to clear the shakiness from his voice. "I need you to trust me on this one: you're going to be okay. I don't care what I have to do. I will make sure that you get out of that group home, and you'll never run out of food again. Hey, look at me," Tony ordered, reaching over to grip the kid by the shoulders and forcing eye contact. "I promise."

Tony stood and held a hand out for the kid who accepted the assistance and rose from the ground. However, when Stark was about to let go, Peter stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the older man. Tony recovered from his surprise quickly and pulled the kid closer.

For a few minutes, Peter cried into his shoulder, but eventually he pulled away. "Okay" was all he said.

"So, you'll go back to the house?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded. He inhaled deeply to calm himself. "I'll go back. As long as you won't leave me there?"

"I won't," Tony promised once again. He was going to do whatever it took to make Peter feel happy and safe again.