irondad & spiderson oneshots

lxxxiv. lost

Peter Stark was mad. No, he was seething. His dad just didn't understand! He hated his lunchbox now absolutely hated it. He was six whole years old and still bringing an Avengers lunchbox to school.

Flash Thompson and his friends said that Peter was a dumb little baby for bringing such a stupid lunchbox to school, every day.

So of course when his dad gave him his lunchbox (even though it held his favorite kind of sandwich) he threw a fit, refusing to take it. Then, his dad had the audacity to demand why he didn't like turkey and cheese sandwiches anymore, which made Peter even more angry.

But a dumb thing about Peter, was that when he got angry, his stupid eyes started crying! So he stood there crying and having a fit about the lunchbox, and his dad kept saying how he did like turkey and cheese, but Peter knew that! He knew what he liked!

After that, his dad got mad and put his lunchbox in his bag anyway and made him get in the car so he could go to school. That led to now, with Peter sitting in his car seat with tears dripping down his cheeks as his his face was contorted in anger.

He didn't want to be a dumb little baby! "We're here, Peter. Go inside." His dad said, clearly agitated with him. That made Peter even more mad. Daddy didn't understand! He shouldn't be mad! Peter was mad, not him!

The first grader didn't bother responding, climbing out angrily and slamming the door behind him as hard as he could so his dad knew just how angry he was.

Peter might have heard his dad yelling something, but he pretended not to hear him and raced up the steps of his school. He stopped at the door, though, turning around and watching his dad's black car drive off.

Gnawing at his lip, Peter began back down the steps, noticing a few students looking at him weird for walking away from school when it was starting, but nobody stopped him. If he went inside with his dumb lunchbox, then Flash would see and make fun of him again.

As they were driving, Peter was pretty sure he saw a dumpster a few blocks back the way they came, so the young boy made his way toward where he thought it was.

After almost two blocks, he still couldn't see it and began to grow nervous, glancing back to make sure he could still see the school. He could, so he was fine. Maybe he'd be a few minutes late but at least he wouldn't have a dumb lunchbox.

Peter suddenly remembered that when his dad drove him to school, there were turns, so he turned at the next block, craning his neck to look for the dumpster. There was more than one turn, right? So he took another.

Surely, he'd see the dumpster soon, right? He couldn't find it. He held his backpack a little tighter and took another turn. He'd find it soon, right? A sudden terror flooded through him. He didn't know if these were the right turns.

They had to be, right? But there were so many roads and turns in New York. What if he took the wrong ones? Peter's hands began to shake as he looked around wildly.

This was a bad idea. He needed to go back to school. He could throw away the lunchbox inside. Trying to retrace his steps, Peter stopped at the first turn. Which way had he turned the first time?

Standing on the tips of his toes, Peter's head whipped around frantically to see if he could find the school. He couldn't. The young boy backed against the wall of a coffee shop with tears stinging his eyes.

He was lost. Before long, Peter felt tears dripping down his face and he sniffled, reaching up to wipe them away. They weren't mad tears anymore, they were sad ones. He was scared.

His daddy always said to always stay with a trusted adult in the public because his dad was very famous and some people didn't like him or Peter.

The brunet's lips began trembling and he wiped at his nose as he felt snot on his lip. He didn't care about the lunchbox anymore. He just wanted to go back to school. No, he wanted to go home.