A Slice Of Life, Death And Everything In-Between

My Skin Feels Like Fire (Washes Over Like Waves)

Prompt by @muggle-who-lived: Hey, are you accepting a prompt?? If yes I have one :) if not then ignore. Something happens between flash and Peter (i don't know) but Flash challenges Peter to wear one itchy wool sweater as dare for 2 days(may be) Starting few hrs were ok but then it became unbearable that it was hard to hide the pain. Tony noticed something is wrong but his thoughts were confirmed when he saw red irritated skin marks on his back and arms. (i don't know but I thought this will make good H/C fic)

**TRIGGER WARNING FOR HINTS OF SELF-HARM (no actual self-harm though, just a misunderstanding)**

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It was just a stupid bet.

That's what Peter tells himself, at least. His arms and the back of his neck burns and itches as the wool scratches at his skin. He shivers, resisting the urge to squirm as he steps into the elevator, brushing his nails down his arms and neck, skin tingling.

It was Flash that had this stupid idea in the first place. He had gloated Peter into putting on this ugly, itchy sweater on and Peter had let him.

"Come on, Penis." The other boy had sneered, stepping closer. "Prove to us that you really aren't such a fucking wimp I'm sure this would improve your looks anyway."

"But why don't you like it?" Peter had asked, attempting to get Flash to step back and leave him alone. "It's not like it's old or anything!"

"Too itchy." Flash said simply, throwing the sweater at Peter's head and walking away. "And puke green seems to be more your color, Stark."

The spiderling wasn't fully sure why he took up the dare.

Maybe it was pride or some stupid sense of victory.

Either way, here he is, riding the elevator up to his home so he can suffer in his own room. He just has to make it through the living room without running into Tony.

Hopefully his Dad is in the workshop.

Please be in the workshop.

Finally, the doors open in a whoosh and Peter steps out, scratching at the back of his neck as the fabric pinches his arms. Taking a quick glance into the kitchen as he passes, the boy lets out a harsh sigh as he finds it empty, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

Walking past the couch, the young Stark pulls at the collar of the oversized sweater, contemplating if it would be cheating if he took it off for just a couple of seconds.

"Hey, buddy." A sudden voice causes Peter to freeze in his tracks, whipping around to see Tony sitting on the couch, a Stark Pad in his lap and a smile on his face. "How was school?"

Peter gasps a little, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to hide a wince as the fabric scratches. "Hey, uh, hey Dad. It was good, but I got lots of homework so I'm just gonna go–"

But Tony is already holding up his hand, face creasing in a small frown. "Whoah, whoah, slow down there, ragazzo, what's the deal with the new outfit?"

"N-nothing." Peter says, blushing and shifting on his feet. "It's just a sweater."

His dad scoffs a little, setting aside his Stark Pad and standing up. "Yeah, a sweater you didn't have when you left this morning. Don't tell me you swing from buildings and steal Granny's winter wear too, kiddo."

The boy just blushes harder, jumping when Tony's hand settles on his shoulder, biting his lip to keep his cry of pain caged in.

"Tell me where you got the sweater, Peter."