I'm Just Human

Chapter Eighteen

Peter didn't have the courage to talk to Tony while laying in the hospital bed. It was too important, too big, too daunting. He would stay silent, pretend to sleep, pretend to be into whatever movie played on the flat screen whenever Tony would wander into his room, at least three times a day.

Tony wouldn't say anything more than the necessities, asking if he was okay and comfortable, if he needed anything, making sure all his IVs and wires were proper and not pinching him, making sure he was eating and drinking water and sleeping.

No more than what Tony deemed necessary. (Peter couldn't help but notice how not-so-subtly dad-like he was acting but wouldn't bring it up.)

Which is why Peter was surprised to see Steve in his room when he wakes up.

He didn't think Tony would call Steve to talk to him about it.

"Mister Rogers?" Peter says, groggily rubbing sleep from his eyes, sitting up. His wounds are already nicely healed, it's his last day here before they're finally letting him go home to May. It's been a long four days. "What- what are you doing here?"

"Honestly? Rhodey called me to fill me in on what happened and I was kind of pissed Tony didn't call me first, so I figured a trip up was probably for the best," Steve explains casually, but there's a tenseness in his shoulders and his right hand is curled around the arm of the chair too tightly.

"Hmm."

"Nothing? I thought you'd be rambling a mile a minute to me by now," Steve says, trying to joke but Peter doesn't react to it.

"I can't believe everyone lied to me. May, Tony, you... I just- I don't know how to feel."

"Tony asked me to," Steve says and then he winces at the phrasing. "Not that he didn't want you to know, he just worried that this was how you'd react, and he'd lose his only chance to be in contact with you again... I know it wasn't right, but he loves you and he wants what's best for you, he thought this would be for the best."

"Why does he get to decide that? Why don't I get a say in what I want?" Peter asks, crossing his arms. He knows he probably looks like a little kid, pouting and huffing, but he doesn't care. He's overwhelmed and anxious and scared and confused and he feels he has every right to act like a child.

"You do. That's why Tony's been distancing himself. He wants you to make the first move, so he knows where you stand. If you want to keep the mentorship going or if you want to try something more or if you don't want any contact again, he'll comply. He's waiting for you."

But this is worse.

As much as Peter hated not having a choice in what he gets to know, he hates having such a huge decision resting on his shoulders.

His father, the one he thought abandoned him, the one he's only really known for the past year, the one who's kept a giant secret from him all this time, is just rooms away. He's right there. Isn't this what Peter's always wanted?

When he was young, sometime after forgetting about all the broken promises of Tony coming back for him, he thought it was totally unfair that everyone else got parents and his were gone. He would beg his aunt and uncle to bring his parents back to him just so he'd have that relationship that everyone else got. Just so he'd have someone to make Mother and Father's Day cards for.

But nobody ever showed up for him.

He supposes, technically, Tony did. Ten years late and full of lies. But he was still there and ready to take Peter under his wing. He supposed Tony did come eventually. But too little, too late, right? Peter doesn't need him anymore.