Chapter Text
The water in Greece contrasted greatly from night to day.
In the day, Peter had found it to be the clearest water he had ever seen. Nothing like what surrounded New York. Pure blue. The most beautiful, like the sky had sunk into the deep sea. All the fish flying through the air instead of water. But at night it was completely different. It was impenetrable. Dark. Maybe still like the sky, just space. Endless, and speckled with stars.
He leaned over the side of the boat, peering down into the blackness.
Small waves rippled as the boat moved through them. The night air was warm, and Peter’s skin, having been slightly burned from the two weeks spent in the piercing sunlight, made it seem even warmer under the suit he was wearing. Peter leaned his head forward, his hand as well, reaching out over the edge.
He was so tired. The boat almost lulled him to sleep. Almost. But he knew it would not.
But he hoped every night would be different.
His fingers barely glided over the surface. The yacht they were headed to wasn’t far from the shore, but far enough that Peter’s eyes felt heavy. The man driving them turned in the slightest, causing Peter’s eyes to snap open, awareness returning. He didn’t like these parties, but he supposed that going to one rich-people party with Tony and Pepper was the least he could do after they had basically let him pick almost every activity they had done.
It had been a good trip. He had laughed more than he had since before May’s death.
He had smiled every day.
It almost made Peter forget he had barely slept in weeks.
A hand touched his shoulder gently and squeezed. Peter’s head snapped up in surprise as he was slowly pulled from where he was kneeling over the edge of the boat.
Tony smirked slightly, “Maybe don’t lean over the side while you’re wearing Tom Ford.”
Peter’s brows furrowed…
“Who’s Tom Ford?”
Pepper laughed from her place at the end of the boat. Tony’s expression looked filled with horror. Tony pinched Peter’s ear, and the boy grunted in discomfort, pulling away and pouting. Tony replied, “The very nice suit you have on. Show it some respect.”
Peter tugged on the collar and chuckled, “Oh this thing? I thought it was named Straitjacket.”
Tony plopped down next to him and hummed, “It’s not that uncomfortable.”
“You’ve been wearing them since you were born,” Peter rolled his eyes, “I bet you were brought home from the hospital in one.”
The man pondered on that, then nodded in a sort of confirmation. Peter smiled in triumph that he was right. He laid his head against the back of the seat and Tony questioned, “You tired?”
“Yeah,” Peter answered truthfully, “I’ve been in the sun all day.”
Less truthful.
Pepper spoke from her seat, “We can tell. Your cheeks are red, but I specifically remember giving you sunscreen.”
“I forgot to reapply.”
His grin was sheepish. Saying he hadn’t applied it in the first place. But in his defense, the sea water would have just washed it away. He had fallen out of the sailboat three times in the past two weeks. Once was on purpose, the other two from being hit by ropes. Each time he thought surely the case on his phone would fail him, but it never did. Stark products really were top of the line.
The lights from the yacht in the distance were growing closer and Peter kept his head resting, wanting the chair he was in to turn into a bed and for sleep to swallow him up. He kept reminding himself that this party was his dues. They had given him such a wonderful trip. He didn’t want to be that bratty kid that complained while sitting in a pile of gifts.
Tony leaned into his line of sight, causing Peter to jump.
“You could have stayed at the beach house,” Tony spoke softly, “If you didn’t feel well.”
Peter shot up, rod straight, “I feel fine. Honest. Just sunburned.”
“Hm,” Tony’s head bobbed up and down, “I mean, it might just be me, but your face is reminding me a lot of when I was in college and had a late night-“
Peter made a disgusted face, “Mr. Stark.”
“Not like that,” Tony waved his hand, “As in, pulling an all-nighter.”
Maybe that was what weeks of not sleeping gave someone. A look of an all-nighter. And he had pulled plenty of those as of late. Peering back at the man driving the boat, Peter returned his eyes to Tony and forced a reassuring gaze.
“I’m alright.”
The sound of the boat and the waves and the wind hid the exhaustion. Peter really was fine. Getting better, besides the inability to sleep. May had died at the end of January. It was the middle of June. He should be better, he thought. And he was. The feeling inside of his lungs didn’t ache as much. His and Tony’s bickering had settled into a steady home-life.
There was routine. When school was still in session, he’d wake up, attend class, patrol for an hour or two, go to decathlon practice, go to appointments with Doctor Middleton, then arrive at the penthouse. Do homework. Eat dinner. Bed. Wake up. Do it again.
It was comfortable. Really comfortable. Then school had ended and that had gone away. The not sleeping arrived rather quietly. Like a shadow. He had woken at two in the morning the third night after the last school day. Wasn’t able to go back to sleep. Ever since that night, sleep had evaded him. Weeks of it. Weeks of no routine. No full nights of rest.
Maybe Tony and Pepper hadn’t noticed. Certainly, Tony had noticed something. It was clear he didn’t know what that something was. Nothing was wrong, Peter would have sworn to that in court. Nothing. But…He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t pinpoint why things had gone so wrong, when things were getting so much better. But who needed sleep anyway?
Plenty of people didn’t sleep. Tony didn’t.
He blinked and they were pulling the boat up beside the yacht. The voices of the rich were already gliding over the edge to his ears and he bit down the pool of worry. These things never got easier. Because no matter what Tony and Pepper dressed him in, he just didn’t belong there. He was awkward, unsteady, and rambled when nervous. He didn’t go to the schools their children went to, so when they asked he almost wanted to lie.
Usually they’d look at Tony, smile, and say something along the lines of ‘modern parenting’.
Old money went to old schools.
The lack of rocking on the yacht was almost startling compared to that of the boat that had taken them out. A man, security it looked to be, grabbed his shoulder and Peter smiled apologetically. Tony followed and he held out a hand for Pepper to take. She lifted her dress gracefully and stepped aboard like she had done it a thousand times.
Almost immediately Peter was swallowed when people flocked to the couple.
Peter had learned that Pepper and Tony were quite popular with this crowd. Freshly engaged, Peter had heard them whisper about it being the wedding of the century, possibly more over the top than the Royal Wedding, and Peter dreaded for when it would eventually occur. They all wanted an invite. All smiled and complimented her ring. She smiled back, easy and Peter wished he could be as good at it as she and Tony were.
But he couldn’t make himself smile when he felt that small.
An old woman turned and pinched his cheek and he couldn’t hear what they were talking about through the blood rushing in his ears. Something about him. Something about school. Tony was answering for him, always did, and if they were anywhere else he would have been irritated. But in this situation it was a wonderful mercy.
When it became clear that the questions were mostly about the wedding, Peter stepped away, just to escape the crowd.
A golden hue illuminated the boat and soft music was playing as he started to put distance between himself, Pepper, and Tony. He had to be annoying at this point, sticking to their hips at almost every party. Peter had promised himself this one would be different. He’d go and find something to do while they socialized.
They didn’t need him clinging every minute.
Sticking his hands deep in his pockets, Peter made his way awkwardly down the deck and into the inside of the boat. A few people looked up at his entrance, and despite him blocking out his hearing, their conversations slipped through the enhanced senses life wildfire…
" Is that Stark’s boy?”
“I believe so…Looks very young, don’t you think, for fifteen?”
“Looks like an illegitimate cover up if you ask me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dot. Stark has done far worse than fathering illegitimate children. He’d have no reason to hide that fact.”
“A charity case is eventually going to run that multi-billion-dollar company…Howard Stark is rolling in his grave.”
Peter ducked his head, biting his lower lip as he stared at the weird foods on the table. Turning, he narrowed his eyes on the group of middle-aged men and women. They seemed surprised by the sudden eye contact and he frowned bitterly, “The dead don’t roll, Dot.”
Peter would know. He visited the dead once every few weeks. Shared sushi with them.
The woman, Dot, dropped her jaw. The others looked away, and it was cringe worthy. Peter moved back out onto the deck, taking a deep breath and peering up at the sky. Rested Peter would never have said something like that. Would have been able to fight that pettiness down. But he could feel the lack of sleep creeping into every joint.
Peter headed to the stern, finding it to be relatively empty compared to the inside. A few guests stood off to the side, but Peter made his way to some chairs staring directly into the dark water behind the ship. Peter plopped down, putting his elbows on his knees, rethinking that entire exchange that hadn’t been much of an exchange at all because Dot had been too shocked to speak.
He hoped no one would be mean to Tony or Pepper because of him.
Rich people didn’t talk that way to each other. They whispered. And Peter was silent, mostly. He was just tired. He needed to sleep. Tonight he would, he told himself. Tonight would be the night he would force himself to sleep.
“Ms. Chester can be a bit of a handful,” A voice to his right stated.
Peter’s head whipped in the person’s direction. A man he didn’t recognize stood there, holding a glass of champagne. He was tall, broad shouldered, his chocolate hair smoothed perfectly on his head. He smiled at Peter warmly, genuinely, not like the old ladies who pinched his cheeks. Peter watched as the man sat down beside him.
He then continued, “The woman, Dot, I mean. She’s a handful. Always. Been divorced seven times. So, I wouldn’t take her words to heart. She was even worse in high school.”
“Seven times?” Peter didn’t even know someone could be married so many times.
The man wagged a finger, “Almost eight.”
Peter breathed in disbelief, leaning back in the chair, staring off into the distance. Until the man spoke again, asking, “You’re Peter, yes? Stark’s son?”
The boy’s eyes found him and his head nodded. He had stopped correcting people weeks ago.
He held out a hand towards Peter, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Peter. I’m Norman Osborn.”
Peter’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He sat up suddenly, taking the hand with his trembling one and shaking it briefly before releasing. Peter stuttered, “L-like, Oscorp?”
Norman’s smile grew, “Yes, Oscorp. Heard of it?”
“Uh, yes,” Peter laughed, “I’ve been once. My school, Midtown High, took a field trip about a year back. But your genetics department is amazing. We got to see some of your reptilian developments, insects…arachnids…”
He hesitated on the last word, but forced it out nonetheless. Norman hummed…
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. We love having students come in and see what we’re about, especially from science oriented schools. Believe it or not, I remember your mother and father.”
Peter’s breath caught in his throat, “W-What?”
Something strange crept into the back of his mind. He rarely gave thought about his mother and father, and not on purpose. But he had been only five when they had passed away, so when he imagined parents, he imagined Ben and May. Not Richard and Mary. If it weren’t for photos, Peter wasn’t sure he would even remember what they looked like…
Something sad slithered into his chest. Similar to when he thought of May.
If Norman noticed, he didn’t let it show…
“Yes,” Norman nodded, “Mary and Richard were brilliant. It was always wonderful when they’d visit Oscorp. They never came to work for us officially, but they assisted us when they could. Very special people, your parents.”
Pride swelled.
Peter smiled.
Norman took a sip from his drink and continued, “Do you plan to pursue genetics?”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up, then he shook his head, “Oh no. I mean, I think what my parents did was awesome and I love getting to see everything that goes into it. But, I’m more into physics and engineering, you know?”
The man chuckled, “Then you must feel right at home with Stark then, eh?”
Peter opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted when a light hand touched his shoulder. He turned, peering up and seeing Pepper smiling down at them. Norman stood, greeting in a charming voice, “Ah, Ms. Potts. Wonderful to see you again.”
“Norman,” She regarded him with a slight nod of her head, “I’m glad to see you as well. So, you’ve met Peter?”
She put a hand on top of Peter’s head, smothering down the curls that he had refused to let Tony slick down with gel. It made his ears look much too large, in his opinion. Norman nodded in response, “Yes, great kid. It helps that he seems to appreciate the work Oscorp does.”
Tony’s voice appeared suddenly, “He’s fascinated by the creepy-crawlies.”
Everyone’s head turned. Tony was standing a bit to the side, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered over. Norman’s polite gaze never faltered, but per-Tony-Stark, his was less than kind. Tony was smaller than Norman, but it didn’t deter him from approaching fully. Peter glanced back at Pepper, whose expression was now annoyed, directed pointedly towards her fiancé and his testosterone battle.
Her hand continued to card through Peter’s hair and he knew she was anxious.
Norman held out his hand, “Tony. How are things over at Stark Industries?”
Tony shook Norman’s hand, surprising Peter, because the strange hostility was making him perplexed over the whole situation. The entire world surrounding business confused him, because everyone seemed to hate each other, but still, smiled and shook hands like it was okay. No one could pay Peter enough to shake Flash’s hand and pretend to be buddy-buddy.
His brows tugged together watching them.
Tony responded, “Good. You know, machines. Not really toying with the laws of nature and such.”
“Don’t tell me that our research…scares you?” Norman joked, “I mean, you created an AI that could basically overtake the entirety of technology as we know it. What we do seems sort of…minute compared to that.”
Tony’s eyes found Peter’s wide ones and Peter knew. Knew that he himself was the prime example of what Oscorp was capable of. The teen folded his hands together and Pepper’s hand hesitated in his hair, moving to his shoulder to squeeze lightly.
Tony’s only response was a simple shrug of his shoulders and he said, “We all have our low points.”
Awkwardness ensued, and Peter could have cut the tension with a butter knife. He was almost relieved when Norman excused himself, telling Peter how nice it was to meet someone like him. As soon as Norman was out of earshot, Tony walked over to stand in front of Peter. The teen heard Pepper snap from behind him, “Do you have to behave that way every time you see that man?”
“If I don’t, who will?”
“He’s kind.”
“So are those pet mountain lions on television. Until they get hungry.”
Pepper groaned in annoyance and Peter cleared his throat, trying to lighten his tone to get the mood back up, “He knew my mom and dad. He said they were really great. I mean, I knew they were geneticists, but I didn’t realize Norman Osborn knew them.”
Tony tsked, “You’re not going to the dark side of genetics, are you?”
“Of course not, Mr. Stark,” Peter laughed, “I’d never leave you alone in the engineer's world of tortured artists.”
…
Peter flinched when Pepper used to her thumb to smear the Aloe Vera over his nose.
It was cold, and he shut his eyes, fighting the urge to pout. He then opened them, flitting his gaze across the bedroom from his place on the bed to where Tony was staring out the window towards the sea. Peter turned his head in the slightest and Pepper grabbed his chin, forcing him to face her so she could finish applying the gel to his sun-kissed cheeks.
“Thank God today was the last day,” Pepper huffed, “You’d be a lobster by the time we got home.”
Peter replied, “I mean, I made it two weeks in Greece and only my face got red. I think that’s a win.”
She didn’t reply as she put the cap back on the bottle and set it on the bedside table. Peter returned his eyes to Tony’s back and he was still facing out the window. Something was weird about the whole thing. Them being in his room and hardly speaking, hovering around him. He thought maybe it had something to do with the awkward conversation with Norman Osborn, but that didn’t make sense. Nothing had been said to make either of them worried.
“Uhhh…” Peter started, causing Pepper to look at him.
Tony turned and when they finally made eye contact, Peter’s gaze moved back and forth between the adults. He continued, “Did I…do something wrong? This feels a lot like an intervention.”
The adults glanced at one another and Pepper sighed, “No, Peter, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…we’re leaving tomorrow and we wanted to talk to you.”
“About MIT Prep?” Peter questioned. The summer class was certainly something that was hanging over his head. But he hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal. Maybe it was…maybe Tony really wanted him to do well. But it seemed…weird to be worried about it. He was only fifteen. He was still in high school. Peter had viewed it as more of a ‘fun’ activity.
He hadn’t dared to ask how much it cost. That would strip the fun right out of it.
“No,” Tony spoke this time, “Just about going home. We’ve been here two weeks and it can be hard going from this back to routine.”
What routine? That was lost when school let out for the summer.
So was sleep.
Peter’s eyes shone with realization, “Oh…”
This was about him. About the inside.
He placed a hand on his chest and insisted hurriedly, “I-I’m alright. Really.”
Tony approached to stand beside Pepper and suddenly Peter felt even smaller than he did on the yacht. Under their gazes. Concern was overflowing, and his cheeks burned at the eyes on him, even more so than the sunburn. He weaved his fingers together and he looked down into his lap. Peter chewed his lip worriedly.
“It’s easy to feel that way on vacation,” Tony said. His voice was taut. Tony still wasn’t good at this. He tried, Peter had to give him credit, but he struggled so much with being a father figure. With talking about these things. It didn’t come naturally. Not in the way it did with Pepper.
Peter let out a sound of frustration. He looked back up at the pair and shook his head, “I’m alright.”
He stressed the word. Praying they’d hear and understand. He wasn’t sleeping, but he could handle that. What he couldn’t handle was all of their progress being ruined by helicopter actions, smothering him.
Peter forced out a shaky laugh, “I know Doctor Middleton probably told you guys you needed to talk to me about this.”
Blatantly, he made eye contact with Tony, “The Deflation Plan is working. Operation: Self is going fine. I’m good, Mr. Stark.”
Quiet. Both adults regarded him carefully. Like a frail little human. Peter forced himself to smile softly, until their concern turned into acceptance. Tony patted his shoulder. Pepper ruffled the top of his head and he repressed memories of Aunt May. Because now was not the time. Not while everything seemed so fragile all of a sudden.
They switched the light off on their way out and Peter laid down on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
He knew he had promised himself he would sleep.
But that would not come.
Peter thought, maybe if he laid still enough and went through the motions, he would slip into that land between being awake and asleep like he sometimes managed to do. Maybe he’d sleep a few hours, like on a good night. Images swirled behind his eyelids and he tried desperately to remember the faces of his parents.
But it seemed the older he got the harder that was.
He prayed silently the same wouldn’t happen to Ben's and May’s faces.
…
Pepper found Tony on the patio, the sound of the sea hitting the shore breaking through the air.
She swirled the wine in her glass silently. He was hunched, sitting forward, peering off into the distance where the moon was reflecting on the water. A glow illuminated his features as she sat beside him and his eyes met hers. She thought, this was when he looked nothing like himself. Nothing like the hard features and the lines on his face. He looked younger. Less hurt. Less stressed. More like he did before Iron Man all those years ago.
She hummed, “Admiring your vacation choice?”
“Partly,” Tony replied, “The other part is resenting the constant sand.”
Pepper shrugged, “I have to admit, I had fun. Having Peter with us made it even better.”
Tony snorted, “Yeah, I realized how boring vacations can be with just adults. Then you end up at parties like that one surrounded by people like Norman Osborn.”
“Don’t be that way,” Pepper took a sip from her drink before setting it aside, “He was just chatting to Peter. You know he has a son Peter’s age? He’s probably good at talking to teenagers.”
Raising an eyebrow, her fiancé scoffed, “His son is a troublemaker, so he’s obviously not that good.”
“And you weren’t at fifteen?”
“Touché.”
The ocean formed a barrier of silence. Pepper could see something in Tony’s expression change. Something from the serene gaze of the moonlight to worry. The lines were returning, along with that incessant furrow in his brow that both he and Peter seemed to share. She wondered if Peter had picked it up from watching Tony or maybe he had always done it.
She questioned carefully, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just…” His shoulders raised and he sat a bit straighter, “Peter has seemed happier here in the past two weeks than he has in the several months since May died. I hate to leave.”
Pepper grimaced. She reached out, lacing her fingers around Tony’s hand. She squeezed, explaining, “Of course he seems happier. It’s vacation and he’s been doing fun things every day…”
She paused, “But that’s not real life. And we’ve gotta go back eventually.”
“I’d keep him here forever if it meant he’d be happy,” Tony’s smile was lopsided. Pained.
Pepper shook her head, “He wouldn’t be happy without you here.”
Tony fingers tightened on hers. The crooked smile became more genuine with the passing milliseconds before he quipped, “Oh please. You’re his favorite.”
Pepper rolled her eyes. Sure, she had certainly formed a tight bond with the boy since he had come to live in the penthouse. She cared deeply for him, more than she had ever cared for another human being, other than Tony. The desire to be a mother had only crossed her mind on fleeting occasions, but her career had always been what drove her to be who she was. But Peter’s existence made her feel almost like a parent. Like she wanted to be and enjoyed being one.
It would never be a completely domestic life. There would always be that gap between them. The gap where May stood. But the same space existed for Tony because of Ben. And they would have to deal with that. Get over it. Because no one could replace them in Peter’s eyes and no one should.
“At least he’ll have MIT Prep to keep him busy,” Pepper tried to sound optimistic.
Tony rolled his eyes, “Hopefully he doesn’t find it as boring as I did.”
“Hey,” Pepper huffed, “Doctor Middleton said we should keep him busy. Idle hands make for 'bad' thoughts. You suggested it.”
Tony smirked at her, “Don’t get all tizzy. I’m not refuting it. He has to go. All potential students do if they want even the slimmest chance at being admitted.”
“He’s fifteen,” The woman shook her head, “He has years before he graduates high school. And what if he doesn’t want to go to MIT? I mean, I just feel like we should have picked a summer distraction with a wider range of…you know…activities? He loved sailing here.”
Tony’s face contorted, “You wanna put him in sailing classes? Like a Kennedy?”
Pepper glared, though it was light hearted…
“Sailing doesn’t turn you into a politician, dear.”
…
Peter’s body jolted awake at precisely 2:03 in the morning.
Three hours of dozing. A new record, he supposed. Maybe getting sunburned helped.
That was how it was. The not sleeping. It was a lot of wondering if he had actually slipped off or if it had been just the darkness swallowing around him and tricking him into thinking his mind had actually rested. There was a slight heaviness to his eyelids, always there now, always in the dark and the light. That was where Peter existed, between awake and asleep, like a small insect, stuck between the screen and the window.
Arachnid would be more accurate, but that was too ironic. Peter enjoyed a good irony, but not when he was the victim.
Slowly, he sat up on his elbows, gaze falling out towards the window. The room smelled of salt water and sand, along with the Aloe Vera still sticking to his face. Swinging his legs off the bed, Peter stood, beginning to pace. The beach house was silent and when he listened closely, he could hear both Pepper and Tony breathing softly in the room next to him, indicating they were asleep, and probably had been for some time.
Their hearts were beating. Neither were dreaming. He had learned that, staying with them. He had never noticed, when he had slept normally. During the school session. But when sleep and routine had collapsed, he had learned their hearts. And Tony had nightmares, when he did choose to sleep, instead of staying in the lab. Peter hadn’t realized before. Had never paid attention. But nighttime brought new worries.
He worried about Tony. Maybe as much as Tony worried about him.
Running his fingers through his hair, he looked out the window at the sea. The waves were inviting, peaceful, glassy. Calmer than usual.
Peter left his room, tiptoeing past Pepper’s and Tony’s. He slid the glass door to the back patio open with the utmost care, before sliding it back. He padded across the wooden deck down into the sand that sunk him to his ankles. He trudged none too gracefully towards the sea, stopping where the water kissed the sand.
A wave washed up, soaking the bottoms of his pajama pants. It was colder than it was during the day, biting at his ankles. He stepped forward more, the water climbing to his shins, then his knees. Before he knew it, the water was wrapped around his waist like a belt. The waves weren’t quite large enough to push him back, but when they splashed up they soaked his chest.
There was no reason to it. Climbing into the saltwater in his pajamas.
The water looked so different at night compared to the day.
Stars beamed off into the galaxy above and Peter felt maybe he was swimming in a piece of the solar system.
Or maybe, less poetically, it was just because he was tired….
Peter pretended it was the former.