Kid, tell me what happened: The Sequel

Stars In The Sea

A melancholy sigh slipped out of Peter Stark’s dried lips. He dipped his head back against the padding of his wheelchair, eyes fluttering shut, The past few months had been rough, for six months he was kidnapped and torture which was then followed by another six months of recovery that included three months of being in a coma. And his body and mind paid the scheming, horrible price. 

He hurt more often than not. In fact, it was hard for Peter to recall a time of no pain existing within him. Pain had become a part of him, resting in the strain of his voice to the hollowness in his bones. 

It was only today when the fifteen-year-old teenager had been cleared by Bruce out of the medbay. However, despite his advanced healing, Bruce still didn’t clear Peter for walking, hence the wheelchair. 

Peter hated the wheelchair, the cold metal frame always made him feel more sickly than he already was. The teenager would’ve preferred his dad to carry him up, but he didn’t want to burden the man any more than he already had. Ever since Beck had snaked a hold on him, everything had been different. Peter doubted himself all the time, choosing to hide and relinquish in silence than face his demons. 

Speaking of demons, Tony wheeled Peter into the former’s bedroom, parking Peter by the foot of the master bed. The father rubbed the nape of Peter’s neck, speaking softly, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to set up the blankets and pillows so we’re nice and comfy.” 

Peter nodded, opening his eyes. It had been so long since he had been in his father’s room, and everything was just as he had remembered it. Including the mirror in front of him. Peter couldn’t help but look into his own hollowed eyes, that didn’t shine the same way he last remembered. He examined his body and come to think of it, the teen hadn’t seen his reflection in a year. 

Messy disheveled hair blended onto his pale, thin frame. Ugly red lines littered his skin with various hues of black and blue bruises. The teenager is so pale, that Peter cringes. The veins on his hands are easily visible, much like the heavy bags that trail to his upper cheeks. The bruises lie just parallel to a deep cut that ran down Peter’s face. He felt an immediate urge to shower and scrub all of his grey and ashy skin off clean. 

Peter couldn’t help but look at himself with pure disgust as he whispered emptily, “Dad, you didn’t say I was ugly.” 

Tony turned to see Peter looking at himself with malice, staring at anywhere except his own eyes, He approached his son, kneeling in front of him. The father frowned as he looked into his son’s eyes intently, interlocking his fingers with Peter’s. He spoke softly, “Pete, you’re not ugly. What makes you say that?” 

At first, it’s a sniffle. And then Peter’s bawling as Tony guided him into the crook of his neck, one hand carding his chocolate-colored curls while the other rubbed soft circles over his son’s back. Tony rocked the boy, encasing the damaged boy tight between his arms. He tucked Peter’s head under his reassuring, “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay. You’re not ugly. You’re so beautiful, you know that? The best boy, my best boy.” 

Peter only cried harder, letting all of his emotions out. He had missed whenever his dad would hold him and whisper nice things to him. He fisted his father’s material, “Dad, look at me! I’m so skinny, and I’m a mess!” He buried his head deeper into his father’s, begging for Tony to make it better. What exactly, Peter had no clue. 

Tony shook his head, “Peter, those things don’t make you ugly. You’re not a mess, you’re Peter Anthony Stark, remember?” He pressed a firm kiss to the top of Peter’s head, “Muffin, did I ever tell you how much I love your hair?” He began to play with it, tugging on his son’s stubborn curls, “Your hair is so curly, I could just play with it for days.” 

He kissed Peter’s forehead speaking, “Baby, your eyes are so adorable. Did you know that?” He wiped the tears off of Peter’s face, “I love the chocolate color shade so much, it’s just like mine. In fact, besides red, that’s my favorite color.” 

The father moved to kiss Peter’s cheek cooing, “Sweetheart, your dimples are so adorable and cute. So beautiful.” He then cupped Peter’s tear-stained face, lightly rubbing the edges with his forefingers, forcing Peter to look into his father’s eyes. “Your smile bear? I love that. Seeing my baby happy is the best feeling in the entire world. And nothing could ever change that.” 

Peter’s sobs lessened to stray tears spilling down his face as Tony cupped the former’s face, “You Peter Anthony Stark are so, so beautiful. In fact, you are the most handsome boy I know, and absolutely nothing can or ever will change that. You got that?” 

Peter hiccuped, “You really think that?” 

Tony smiled fondly, “Nope, I know that.” 

Sensing Peter’s distraught, he pressed Peter back against his chest, “You okay? I know that was a little rough, but I’m here. What do you need?” 

Peter whispered as his eyes fluttered shut, “Need you. Please don’t go.” 

Tony nodded, scooping his son to the bed, “Of course kiddo, I would never leave you. Let’s get some rest, Dum-E missed you so much. And, I even brought your old stuffie, Timmy, just in case. Yeah?” 

Peter nodded as Tony laid him onto the soft sheets, and raised the heavy covers up to the boy’s chin. He curled against his dad’s chest, letting the blue light dance on his eyelids, “Dad, you’re going to be here when I wake up, right?” He knew his whimper sounded childish, but he needed to hear it out loud. 

Tony nodded, grazing his thumb across Peter’s temple, “Always. Whatever you need, whenever, I’m here. Forever and always.”

A/N: This I actually wrote last week but didn't feel like posting. Today's been a rough day so I thought I'd post now instead of tomorrow. Comment n vote