Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

of almosts and little ones

Spooktober 03: Buckled

almost

It's been less than ten minutes since Peter has sat down. He's dumped his backpack on the floor, a heap at his feet kept together with tape and sheer force of will. He's gotten out his homework and is bent over to rummage through his own possessions in hopes that he'll find at least one measly pencil in the wreckage of old papers and field trip permission slips.

Tony hasn't stopped staring at him.

Peter can feel his eyes, an invisible force pushing at the base of his skull, and he's trying not to say anything about it, because clearly there's a reason. Maybe he just zoned out or something! After all, the man did look exhausted when Peter showed up, and he didn't exactly have the best track record for getting a full eight hours every night.

But also, as Peter can't help but take excruciating notice as per the the loud reverberation of soundwaves every time it happens, Tony's fidgeting. He keeps tapping his shoe on the floor, bouncing his knee, drumming his fingers on the desk.

Peter finally fishes a pencil out of his backpack and finally glances up at Tony, trying not to show the wariness on his face. Tony's staring dead at him. He blinks. They both blink.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter tries, putting on a nervous smile. He goes for casual. It has the least likely chance of making both of them freak out. "What's up?"

Tony snaps out of his Kubrick stare and takes a breath, frantically directing his attention to his desk. He starts shuffling things around. A stack of papers in an unproductive place gets moved to another unproductive place. A pen gets moved away from a coffee cup. A coffee cup is moved away from a pen.

"Nothing, nothing," Tony shrugs. He shakes his head. "It's nothing, everything is all good."

Everything is all good. A pit of dread begins to puddle at the bottom of Peter's stomach. He narrows his eyes.

"Uh... Liar," Peter says playfully, but the smile falters from his face. He sets his pencil down. "Why are you being weird? Did something happen? Are you— are you okay?"

His mind starts going a mile a minute, going to all the worst-case scenarios, because he's a very healthy and well-minded individual. While he's trying to convince himself that, no, Tony isn't about to tell him something crazy like that Earth is about to undergo an impending alien invasion where some crazy sicko wants to kill half the universe— Tony starts clearing his throat, which snaps him out of the terrible reverie he put himself in.

"I just," Tony took another breath. He shifts in his chair so they were properly facing each other, and then looked at Peter with grave eyes. "I need to tell you something, okay? I need to— I have something for you."

Peter is so wildly confused. He has questions for his questions. Tony's striking the fear of god into his heart with every word he continues to say.

"Okay?" Peter tries, looking forward with extreme trepidation, like Tony was a grenade with its pin half-out.

Tony opens his mouth. Tony closes his mouth. He pulls a box out from underneath his desk, wrapped in silver paper, and puts into Peter's lap. He sits back down and leans forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees.

The terror has to be showing in his face. There's no possible way it wasn't. He picks up the box gingerly and holds it up away from his face. He looks up at Tony expectantly, but Tony is just— he's just watching him again.

"This is the scariest moment of my life," Peter tells him, just so they were clear.

"Me too," Tony repeats back to him, with the same honest inflection. Which does not bode well for whatever was in the godforsaken box.