SKIN AND BONES. ( irondad. )

two.

SKIN AND BONES; IRONDAD.

❝ Show me a hero, and 
I'll write you a tragedy. ❞

❦

Potential trigger warnings: Mention of bullying, description of a panic attack.

❦

          It was a bittersweet moment, standing there, in Miss Watson's office, the lights ever-so-slightly too bright, with the Avengers staring at him. Humour crinkled at their eyes, lips quirked up a little. Bitter because of the embarrassment of talking about LEGO in front of the Avengers; sweet because oh my god the Avengers are here. Peter's face was coated in a crimson dust.

          Fingers began to dance around each other and a pearly incisor sunk into the flesh of his bottom lip. He felt like he did around Michelle Jones — butterflies knocking against each other in the pit of his stomach, afraid of doing the wrong thing — and yet his eyes still found themselves facing the shaggy carpet he's grown all too familiar with.

          But then her words set him. "Adopt?" He could hear himself saying, despite him wanting to keep quiet. "Like, as in permanently?"

          "That's the idea, kiddo," Tony Stark was talking to Peter Parker (  he might've laughed at how Ned was going to completely lose his shit.  ). Blank eyes, stained with confusion, met the whisky irises that Tony possessed. "Though, it'll be me and Stephen over there that become your legal guardians. Is that alright?"

          Despite his willingness for it not to, Peter's mind brought him back to his first time in this office. He was a mess, and it had only been a day since he let May and Ben Parker die. The faces as they took their last breaths forever imprinted onto the then fourteen-year-old's subconscious. The guilt was consuming; it controlled each warm breath that left his body, each thought crossed his mind. The last words that they spoke to him had been so broken, yet his mind wouldn't stop repeating them.

          When he went back to school, all he received was looks so faux-sympathy. His newly-heightened senses could hear each and every whisper spread about him, and then there was Eugene 'Flash' Thompson. He just wouldn't let Peter have a quiet day. Flash littered his porcelain skin with yellow and green splatters that hurt so much more than anything he might obtain on patrol would. The words that Thompson spoke were like lightning, shocking him to the core. The worst part was that Peter believed every single one. 

          But now, when dull met bright, haunted met recovering, he could feel a momentary squeeze around his heart; his heart that he locked away so deeply. He felt himself nodding, though he couldn't work out why. He tried to reason with himself, to warn himself not to go so attached to early (  it's probably because they know I'm Spider-Man.  ) but there was something about the sparkle he saw in those whisky eyes that made him feel safe. He found it odd; he hadn't felt safe in a long time.

          "Uh, yeah, that's — that's cool," Despite the ripple of emotion he felt flow through him, he kept his words monotonous and quickly returned his gazes to his suddenly interesting hands (  he missed the glances of concern that the group of Earth's Mightiest Defenders shared.  ).

          "Great," And a genuine smile twirled atop the mechanic's lips and he clapped his hands, snapping Peter's attention to him. "We'll get my lawyers to deal with the paperwork. You okay with that, babe?" Peter heard a fond chuckle from the man who stood next to Stark — that must be Stephen.