Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11610879.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Spider-Man:_Homecoming_(2017), The_Avengers_(Marvel_Movies)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Parker/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Peter_Parker, May_Parker_(Spider-Man), Tony_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Depression, Mental_Health_Issues, Tony_Stark_Has
      A_Heart, Precious_Peter_Parker, Peter_Parker_is_an_Avenger, Post-Coital
      Cuddling, Love_Confessions, Emotional_Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Cutting
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-25 Chapters: 1/2 Words: 4353
****** Disappointment ******
by TheRealLadyLoki
Summary
     That was all he would ever be to Mr. Stark. A failure as a hero. A
     failure as a lover. A complete and utter disappointment all around.
     Peter thought he'd gotten used to disappointing others... He'd just
     thought that Tony would be different.
     Set immediately after the Staten Island Ferry scene, where Tony
     forces Peter to return the suit.
Peter knew first-hand how it felt to be a disappointment. Since he'd been
bitten by that radioactive spider, he could count on one hand the number of
successful patrols he'd undertaken, crimes-in-progress that he'd thwarted, and
stolen merchandise he'd returned to its rightful owner. 
He just wanted to do better, to be better. To be the hero that Tony Stark was
so sure he could be. And he'd tried - he'd tried so fucking hard - and now, he
stood on the rooftop, staring into Stark's cold, emotionless brown eyes, and he
knew without question that once again, his efforts had fallen short of the
mark. 
"Give me back the suit." It wasn't a question. Peter felt a cold chill run down
his spine at the thought of abandoning this symbol of his pride. It was all
that he had. 
"I... I can't." He cursed himself silently. How could he ever expect to stand
his ground against Tony Stark if the mere thought of disagreeing with something
the older man said had him quaking in his damn boots? "I'm Spider-Man." 
Tony was clearly unimpressed, "If you aren't Spider-Man without the suit, than
you aren't much of a hero, kid." The condemnation in his tone cut him like a
knife. 
As pitiful as it was, Peter had no other arguments to stop him from reclaiming
what was rightfully his. His wide eyes drifted down to the ground and he
mumbled, "I don't have a change of clothes." 
"Something can be arranged." 
He'd cried into Aunt May's shoulder, the scent of her perfume and the feel of
her cool hand running up and down his back failing to soothe him as they
ordinarily would. He'd spent the night in his bedroom, stewing over the fact
that it had taken him almost losing his life (and failing epically at defending
the hundreds of lives aboard that ferry) for Tony to take a vested interest in
his well-being. He was either way-overprotective or completely inaccessible -
there seemed to be no middle ground. 
What the hell did he think that the FBI would be able to do against a man that
stole alien technology to augment human weaponry? That anti-gravity gun could
whip Peter around like he was a feather, and snap his webs like they were twigs
caught in a lawnmower - and Peter could stop a bus with his bare hands! Last
time he checked, most FBI agents hadn't been bit by radioactive spiders that
gave them superhuman abilities. 
He went into the bathroom and grabbed a disposable razor from beneath the sink.
It was easy enough to snap the flimsy plastic beneath his foot, and he grabbed
the pieces and took them back into his room - the last thing he needed was Aunt
May to stumble upon the broken bits of razor when she went in the bathroom
tomorrow morning. 
"This is how I feel about stupid Tony Stark and his stupid... fucking...
internship." He growled, bringing the blade down hard on his wrist and making
three clean cuts. Though the others had faded somewhat over time, it was clear
that this was not the first time he'd cut himself. 
Peter didn't realize he was crying until one salty tear dripped down into his
still-bleeding wounds, and he hissed as a sharp pain wracked his body. More
tears fell, and he collapsed to his knees beside his bed. Tony was right - he
wasn't a hero. He was weak and pathetic and he couldn't even handle the
criticism he knew that he deserved, instead turning to the blade to make
himself feel a little less miserable. 
And then, a sick thought occured to him - where was Tony Stark now, when Peter
was putting himself in danger by his own hand? He laughed brokenly, his vision
still blurred by tears. Or did it not matter, as long as Peter didn't die by
making an ass of himself trying to play hero? 
"I'll never be an Avenger." He sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the oversized
t-shirt he'd never bothered to change out of. "I'll never be anything to him
but..." He looked at the still-bleeding wounds, before swallowing hard, "I'm
just a disappointment." 
He fell asleep like that - kneeling beside the bed, arm bleeding sluggishly and
blade clutched loosely between his fingers. He dreamed of the ferry, of all
those people screaming in terror, of how he'd failed them miserably. Of how
they'd all be dead if Tony hadn't shown up at that precise moment. What would
he have done if they'd all perished because of his short-sightedness? The
burning ache in his injured arm was his only response. 
===============================================================================
Hey. It's Peter. Peter Parker. I need to talk to Mr. Stark. - PP
Mr. Stark has nothing to say to you at this time. - HH
He supposed that he should feel thankful that he'd gotten a response at all -
Happy wasn't exactly known for returning any of his phone calls or text
messages. Not for the first time, he found himself irritated by the fact that
he had to go through Happy to have any connection with Tony at all. The only
other way he'd been able to get ahold of Iron Man had been via the suit, and...
well...
It had been a little over a week since Tony had taken the suit away from him,
and Peter had his razor blade had become close friends in that short period of
time. He was running out of excuses for cutting gym class, and Aunt May was
getting suspicious about how desperate he'd become to avoid physical contact.
Peter didn't like to keep secrets from his Aunt, but he knew that divulging
something like this to her would hurt her even more. So he kept his silence,
and his distance. 
"What's going on with you, man? You've been so distant - I mean, more distant
than usual, what with your -," Peter put a hand over Ned's mouth, effectively
silencing him before he could spill the beans about his former 'internship'. 
He narrowed his eyes at the other teen, "I lost the internship, okay? And I
don't wanna talk about it." 
"Oh, man." It was like the other teen practically deflated at the news - to an
outsider, it would seem as if he were taking the news harder than Peter himself
had. "Guess you're not gonna need a man in the chair after all, huh?"
A nod, "Guess not."
"I hear that Tony Stark's a real bastard anyhow. A total pain-in-the-ass to
work for, and with. Who needs him anyhow?" Ned was just rambling now, trying to
fill the silence. 
How can Peter tell him that, for one blissful moment, Tony had been so much
more? In the back of Happy's car, on the way back from the Bronx, they'd
kissed. It had started out as a joke, a funny tidbit in the alibi video for
Aunt May that Peter had been instructed to 'edit out' later on... But when Tony
had reached over him to unlock the door, no cameras rolling, Happy's attention
unhappily diverted, he'd kissed him again, slow and sweet. 
It was wonderful and perfect and everything that Peter could have wished for in
a first kiss... and so illegal, it wasn't even funny. Just mentioning it to his
best friend, even if it would effectively silence his tirade against Tony,
could potentially land Tony in prison for a very, very long time. 
Instead of confessing to their illicit relationship, Peter just whimpered, "I
really thought he was different. He seemed like a pretty decent guy -,"
"Yes, well, looks can be decieving - I mean, I never would have guessed that my
best friend was our very own friendly neighborhood -," the hand flew up,
covering Ned's mouth once again. Man, he really hadn't been kidding when he
said he was bad at keeping secrets.
"Yeah, not anymore. I'm just your friendly neighborhood Peter Parker, who keeps
his feet on the ground - where they belong." Peter said firmly. He started to
scratch at the gauze around his wrist, wincing as the wounds reopened and began
to bleed afresh.
"Right." An awkward silence brewed between the two, neither unsure of where to
proceed from here. Finally, Ned asked, "So what do you plan to do with all this
free time now?"
Peter shrugged. He really didn't want to do anything, except lay in bed and
stare at the ceiling. "How about we rebuild that Lego Death Star?"
Ned's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas Morning, so Peter suspected that
that was the right suggestion to make. Besides, having someone else with him,
even if it was only for a little while, might help to distract him from the
blade he kept hidden beneath his pillow. He'd taken to keeping it close on hand
- the last several nights he'd woken in a cold sweat from the night terrors to
find that the blade was his only friend. 
After all, Tony wouldn't even talk to him. The only one he could hope to
commiserate with wouldn't even spare him the time to day. It was just like
before, only so much worse.
Because now, he'd had a taste of how perfect his life could be if Tony were in
it. If he could have his metaphorical cake and eat it too. But Tony didn't
trust him, and after everything that had gone down, he didn't deserve Tony's
trust. Tony would never return his feelings now. He'd just become another notch
in the playboy's belt.
===============================================================================
He stood outside of Avengers Tower, or rather, what was left of it - the rest
having already been relocated to upstate New York - wondering what in the hell
he thought he was doing. What would he prove, storming in there and demanding
to see Tony, except that he was just as immature and ill-prepared to be a hero
as everyone already assumed he was? He should just turn around and -,
"What the hell are you doing out here? Do you have any idea what time it is?"
He could be asking the older man the same question. Its almost 2AM and he's
exiting the tower in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants, looking like he
hasn't slept since they'd last met a week and a half ago. "Your Aunt must be
worried sick about you -,"
"Aunt May thinks that I'm at a friends house." Peter said, licking his lips. It
was a nervous habit he'd picked up, a tell for when he was lying. "He'll cover
for me if she calls."
But Tony didn't seem overly concerned about his lie, "Why are you here, kid?"
"I didn't know where else to go." Peter whispered, his voice so soft Tony could
scarcely hear him.
That's when he noticed that the kid was bleeding. Even in pitch blackness of
the night, there was enough light radiating from Avengers Tower for him to see
the growing stain on the boy's sweatshirt sleeve. Without a word, he grabbed
his arm and thrust the sleeve back - his brown eyes grew horribly wide when he
saw the damage.
Peter started to sob. He'd come to Tony with the intent to tell him that he was
right - that Peter wasn't ready for the responsibility that had been thrust
upon him, that he just wanted to help and that he hadn't meant to make as big
of a mess as he had. He'd wanted Tony to forgive him, to kiss him again...
It seemed like he'd only succeeded in making the older man angrier. 
Tony dragged him into the tower and into the nearest elevator, hitting the
button that would take them to the penthouse. The entire ride was spent in
silence, with Peter attempting to reclaim his injured arm and Tony refusing to
release him. Finally, with a soft 'ping', the door to the elevator opened and
Tony dragged him inside. With a none-too-gentle shove, he pushed him down onto
the California King and disappeared into the bathroom to get the first-aid kit.
"What on earth could ever be worth taking a blade to your own skin?" He bit
out. It sounded like he was yelling, and Peter recoiled from the sound. The
last thing he wanted was for Tony to be even more upset with him. Perhaps he
shouldn't have come - "I'm waiting." 
Peter swallowed hard, before whispering, "I'm a disappointment. I try and I try
and I just... I just wanted to be good for you, Tony. I wanted to impress you.
For the first time in my life, I didn't want to be the screw up. And then...
then the ferry... and you took the s-suit..."
Tony softened when the kid began to sob again, "Why does my opinion mean so
much to you, kid? Nothing and no-one is worth hurting yourself like this."
"Because I love you! I love you, damn it! I'd do anything for you and you used
me like I'm some sort of fucking toy and then put me on a shelf indefinitely,
promising me that I could be part of something greater, that I could matter, if
I just worked hard enough! And I tried. I tried so damn hard. And I'll never be
good enough for you!"
"Peter..." Tony found himself at a loss for words, totally unsure of how to
help the young man before him. So he buried himself in the task of tending his
various wounds. 
Peter closed his eyes, unable to handle the look of disappointment he knew
would be gracing the older man's face. "I didn't... I don't..." He swallowed
hard, mentally screaming at himself to spit it the fuck out already. Tony was a
busy man - he didn't have time to be taking care of some kid that just couldn't
deal. "I don't want your pity." 
"I don't pity you, kid." Tony answered almost immediately. Before Peter had a
chance to misconstrue his words, however, he added, "I just... I never meant
for things to deteriorate this far. I never knew... never expected... God, in
case you haven't picked up on it yet, I'm really shitty at this whole role
model thing."
Peter sniffled, "I only ever wanted you to l-love me... like I love you. That's
all. Everything else was just an added bonus." He laughed brokenly, "Guess I
got too cocky, huh?"
Tony didn't answer. Instead, he took out a small spray bottle of disinfectant
and sprayed the wounds, distracting the young boy from the sting by gracing his
lips over his. It was soft and sweet and so, so gentle... tears of an entirely
different sort began to trickle down the boy's cheeks, and Tony wiped them away
with the pad of his thumb. 
What Peter didn't understand was that Tony was so protective over him because
he felt the same. He wanted to nurture the boy, to give him all the kudos and
congratulations his own father had never lavished upon him. He wanted to see
him blossom into a full-fledged superhero, one worthy of carrying the title of
Avenger. He wanted to be the one to help bring that side out of him. It was
only after the Civil War concluded that he realized his feelings for the boy
extended far beyond that of a mentor for their student. 
Tony was also smart enough to know that acting beyond a simple kiss, tonight,
would ruin any chance he had with the younger man. He might not be the best at
understanding how relationships worked, but he knew that Peter would likely
construe any physical affection or confessions as an attempt to keep him from
hurting himself again. He'd sunk so deeply in his depression that he'd likely
think that Tony was making up any feelings he might have - that he was trapping
the older man against his will. 
"I never meant..." Tony licked his lips, his golden tongue failing him for the
first time in recent memory. "I never meant for things to deteriorate like
this, Peter. But you were out there, flying around like you had some sort of
death wish and that's not what I wanted for you. You've always been enough,
Pete. Always."
Peter hated how pathetic he sounded when he whimpered, "Then why don't you love
me?"
Tony didn't answer with words. Instead, he securely bundled the boy in a
blanket and laid him down on the California King, before shucking off his ratty
old tennis shoes and climbing into bed beside him. He wrapped his arms as
tightly around him as he dared, tucking the boy's head beneath his chin and
humming one of his favorite Zepplin songs until he fell asleep in his arms. For
Tony, however, sleep did not come that night.
===============================================================================
The next morning, Peter awoke in his own bedroom with nothing to suggest that
the night before had been anything more than a very lucid dream. 
He went back and forth to school, completed his month of detention (plus a few
added days for skipping out early that fateful afternoon), and even scored a
date to homecoming. In short, he was living the normal high school life - even
if the community around him as abuzz with the recent disappearance of their
friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. In fact, it was almost like nothing had even
happened. Except that Peter remembered everything. 
It wasn't until after he'd taken down Toomes that he went back to the blade
hidden underneath his pillow. Yeah, he'd proven that he didn't need some high-
tech suit in order to be a hero - the hero was inside of him all along. And
he'd single-handedly saved Happy from losing his job. And yeah, there was no
telling what would have happened if all of that alien tech had fallen into
Toomes' hands. Spider-Man had saved the day. So why did he still feel like an
epic disappointment?
He'd need to be more careful, though. He made six shallow lines diagonal to the
scars that already littered his arm - they didn't bleed much more than a
scratch from a house cat would, but they burned. He winced every time that his
shirt would rub up against the wounds, irritating the fragile scabs. 
Peter had skipped his class right before lunch to clean out the wounds in the
bathroom sink, and that's when he ran into Happy. For once, he actually seemed
pleased to see the young man... until he saw the marks that littered his wrist.
Thankfully, he knew better than to mention them. "The Boss wants to see you."
Peter's light brown eyebrows furrowed together, and he pointed toward one of
the many stalls that seemed to be occupied. "In... there?"
Happy actually barked an almost laugh, "No. He's upstate." He started for the
door, "C'mon, kid. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."
                                     -----
The new Avengers Tower was every bit as impressive as he'd thought it would be,
and he was more than a little intimidated to stand in its presence. Happy
seemed more than happy to give him a short tour of the facilities, and while
Peter followed closely behind him, 'ooo-ing' and 'ahh-ing' at all the
appropriate times, he couldn't help but feel small and out of place knowing
that this building housed some of the world's greatest heroes. 
He wasn't even worthy of keeping his suit, which Tony had taken the time to
hand-make for him. He was a waste of space that would never bear the mantle of
Avenger. 
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a large hand landed on his shoulder,
"Calm down, kid. It's just me." Tony Stark came around to stand before the
young boy, "Can we have a minute, Happy? I'd like to talk to the boy... alone."
Happy nodded. It was fairly easy for the big man to fade into the background,
but both Peter and Tony knew that he was not terribly far away. "Why did... Why
did you want to see me? I thought you'd made it pretty clear that you were done
with me after what happened -,"
Tony pressed a finger to his lips, "This isn't the place to talk about this.
C'mon, I'll take you to my suite."
This time, the silence in the elevator was considerably less awkward than it
had been several weeks before. Without a word, Tony reached out and took the
younger man's hand, squeezing it in a show of silent affection. Peter swallowed
hard, willing himself to look up and meet Tony's eyes. When he did, he found
the billionaire-playboy-philanthropist smiling at him - it was a smile he had
not seen before, so bright and beautiful that it reflected in his eyes and it
made the corners of Peter's mouth twitch upward. 
The elevator doors opened with a soft 'ping', and Tony's attention was taken
away again as he led them down the hallway and into his master suite. That
strong hand doesn't release his until Peter is once again sitting at the foot
of Tony's bed, Tony pulling up a chair beside him. And then, he did the
unthinkable. He grabbed hold of Peter's wrist and forced his sweater up until
all of his scars, and the still fresh wounds, were exposed. And suddenly, Peter
felt like crying once again. 
"I was a lot like you when I was a kid." Tony began softly. He traced his thumb
over some of the long-healed scars, "My Dad was distant and cold... entirely
unapproachable. No matter what I did, it always could have been better. I've
said it before - he wasn't big on praise.'
"I never took a blade to my skin, but... There are other ways to self-harm.
I've been self-destructing for years with alcohol, drugs, women... I know how
it feels to not think you're good enough, to think that you're a lost cause
that everyone should just give up on. And it makes me sick to think that I ever
made you feel that way."
Peter began to squirm under Tony's gentle attention, "It's not your fault. I
should've just listened to you from the beginning and not -,"
Tony cut him off gently, "It's nobodies fault." And then, a bit firmer, "And
really, I'm in no place to judge your actions. If I were in your shoes, I
probably would've done the same thing. Lately, it seems like more and more of
my screw-ups are what cause this sorta thing to go down in the first place -,"
Peter seemed affronted by the idea that Iron Man could ever 'screw
up' anything. "But you're like the Iron Man - the greatest hero ever. You don't
just 'screw up' -,"
"Have you been living under a rock these past couple years, kid? I sold weapons
to very bad people to make my fortune. I created Ultron and almost leveled an
entire country. There's a shit ton of blood on my hands, and it isn't because
I've never screwed up before. Moral of the story - shit happens, and I
shouldn't have come down on you like I did."
"I deserved it." Peter said softly, staring down at his hands. 
"No." Tony said firmly. He put his hand beneath the boy's chin and tilted his
head back, "No, you really didn't."
They stared into one another's eyes for several moments, and if Peter was
feeling better he would've laughed about how much it felt like a scene from one
of those cheesy rom-coms. Finally, Tony closed the distance between them and
brushed his lips gently over Peter's. And Peter, having grown tired of the
older man treating him like a China doll, grabbed him by the lapels of his suit
and dragged him in until their chests were pressed flush against one another. 
As they drew apart for air, Tony found himself being pulled down atop the
smaller teen. He tensed for a moment, and Peter hurriedly drew back, afraid
that he'd pushed too hard, too fast... but then those sinful lips pulled back
into a sort of smirk, and he pressed a teasing kiss to the side of his mouth,
the curve of his chin, the pulse-point of his neck... One hand slipped up
underneath the boy's shirt, stroking his left nipple in slow, lazy circles
until he'd teased it to hardness. 
Peter was already breathing heavily, his erection straining against his jeans.
Tony laughed as the kid rutted uselessly against him, desperate for some sort
of friction to end his suffering. "Please, Tony..." he whispered, pawing at the
older man's clothing. "Please -,"
"Mmm... tell me what you want, Peter." He implored, his attention now focused
on the other nipple. Peter bucked into him, Tony just barely moving his hips
out of range in time.
The teen now had tears in his eyes for an entirely different reason, "Y-You.
Want y-you." 
Tony's features softened, and he kissed the young teen again before whispering,
"You have me. You've always had me."
It takes some effort to pull away from the boy's vice-like grip, but when he
does he allows his hands to travel down... down... until nimble fingers catch
on the zipper of Peter's jeans and yanks it down, reaching inside to take hold
of his beautiful cock. Their eyes meet again, and suddenly Tony has all of
Peter inside his mouth and the boy practically went limp beneath him. Hollowing
his cheeks, he bobbed his head up his down, trying to bring him to completion
as fast as possible.
As he was only seventeen, it didn't take long. With a startled cry, he came
with a shout, spilling his seed down Tony's throat. Tony swallowed down every
last drop, before pulling off with a wet 'pop' and tucking the boy back into
his pants. When Peter came back down from the high of orgasm, he realized that
Tony was still achingly hard.
"T-Tony..." When Tony realized what the boy was referring to, he laughed. 
"Don't worry about me." Tony whispered, cocooning Peter in a blanket and
cuddling with him in the bed. "We'll talk more in the morning, alright?"
Peter was silent for a moment, until Tony smoothed his hand over Peter's back
and shooshed him gently. "Okay."
 
 
 
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