Chapter Text
It was Thursday night, and Peter couldn’t sleep. The past few days had blurred together into a haze of bruises, whispers, and exhaustion. Flash had found new ways to be cruel — transphobic digs, homophobic jokes, each jab sharper than the last. Peter and Ned had started holding hands more, testing the shape of their relationship, and even MJ had been standing closer to them lately. Flash noticed, of course. Flash always noticed.
The worst came earlier that afternoon:
“You’ll never be a real man,” Flash sneered in the hall, voice full of poison. “Stop pretending. Go back to sucking cock and giving your body away like the whore you are.”
Peter hadn’t even reacted; he just stood there, stunned. But MJ did. She’d warned him she had limits. And true to her word, she snapped — not just shouting but lunging, a blur of fury and loyalty. She nearly broke Flash’s jaw, dragging him down with a rage that was all teeth and nails. She declared, in front of everyone, that she supported Peter and Ned — and that she wasn’t afraid to throw a punch for them.
Peter smiled faintly at the memory now, but it felt like a smile he’d borrowed from someone else. The damage was already done.
He sat alone on a rooftop, far from home, the city below a smear of neon and shadow. He remembered the hospital, May holding his hand, her voice steady but trembling. Tony knew he’d been hurt, had been bullied. He hadn’t needed all the details. Tony always noticed when Peter was struggling, always sensed the storm before Peter had the words.
A razor lay near his foot, dark smudges on his skin where it had kissed his arm. Peter’s arms throbbed. His head ached. Every nerve in his body was raw from the day, from the week, from Flash’s words cutting deeper than the bruises he could see. Flash hadn’t just mocked him — he’d hit where it hurt. Transphobic, homophobic, cruel… he’d taken a running shot at everything Peter was, everything he cared about.
Blood dripped slowly, pooling like the night itself. He knew it wasn’t fair to May, or to Ned and MJ. God, they’d wake up to a text instead of him. He’d already sent it. He already felt like he’d failed them.
He sighed, wiping tears with a trembling hand, waiting for the cold or the blood loss to do its work. He wanted to vanish. Wanted the cold to swallow him. Wanted it all to stop.
“You know,” a voice said behind him, quiet but iron, “I envy your strength and all. But I’m not going to sit back and let you kill yourself, kid.”
Peter froze. He looked up, and there was Tony — Iron Man suit dimly humming in the dark, mask off, eyes full of worry.
“Go away,” Peter whispered, tears streaming. “Please.”
Tony stepped out of the suit, the sound of metal unfolding strangely gentle in the night air. He crossed the roof and wrapped his arms around Peter before the boy could pull back. “Peter,” he said softly, “I need you to tell me what’s going on. All week you’ve been coming home covered in bruises. You were in the hospital with a head injury. And now—now I find you here.” His voice cracked. “Please, kid. Please. Stop pushing me away.”
The dam broke. Peter clung to Tony, sobbing into his chest. “I hate it,” he choked out. “I hate him, Dad. Please don’t make me go back. I don’t want to go back to school.”
Tony rubbed circles on his back, holding him steady. “You know I can’t fix it unless I know what’s going on. If it’s a bully, we deal with it. If it’s a teacher, we deal with it. But I can’t help unless you tell me.”
Peter sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It’s Flash. And his gang. They pick on me for being trans. For being with Ned and now MJ. Nobody believes I’m actually your intern. And tomorrow we’re supposed to come to Stark Industries for the field trip, and he keeps saying you’d never pick me for anything. He calls me a fake wannabe guy, a whore…” His voice cracked again. “I just want him to stop. I just want to be normal. It’s not fair to Ned and MJ and May. It’s not fair that your daughter is a—”
“Peter,” Tony cut in firmly. “You’re not a freak. You’re my kid. Nobody is born ‘normal’—whatever normal even is. I’d rather live a life with adventure and danger than a safe one without meaning. You’re smart, you’re brave, and nothing about Flash’s words changes any of that.” His jaw tightened. “Whoever this Flash kid is, he’s going to pay for making your life hell. Nobody deserves to be tormented until they believe the only way out is to end it. I know what that’s like. If it weren’t for you or Pepper, I might have ended it myself when I came back from Afghanistan. But instead, I built the first Iron Man suit. I decided to fix what I could. We can’t change the past, but we can make the present better. I’m sorry I didn’t see how bad this had gotten. That changes tonight.”
Peter leaned back into Tony, exhausted. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought he’d stop. I thought if I ignored him—” He gave a weak laugh that turned into a sob. “Ned and MJ are going to kill me for this…”
“You didn’t tell them?” Tony asked sharply, eyes flicking to Peter’s arms. “Please tell me you didn’t tell them.”
“I’m sorry, Dad…” Peter whispered, eyes down.
Tony swore under his breath and smoothed a hand over Peter’s hair. “If I’d known it was this bad…”
“It’s not your fault,” Peter said quickly. “Please don’t blame yourself.”
“Listen to me,” Tony said, his voice low and serious. Peter looked up, scared and tired all at once. “I’m dealing with Flash tomorrow. Hell, I’ll deal with your entire school. The field trip’s all day. After it’s over, you, Ned, and MJ are staying. We’re also looking for therapy—real therapy. This…” he gestured at Peter’s cut-up arms, “…is the first and last time you ever feel alone enough to do this. I’m not mad. I’m not disappointed. But it’s a long road, kid. I know about relapses. I know how depression can get its hooks in. But you come to me before you do anything like this again. Okay?”
Peter swallowed, tears hot on his cheeks. “Okay. I really am sorry, Dad.”
“It’s not your fault, kid,” Tony murmured. “How about we go home, clean you up, and watch some movies? Get your mind off things.”
“I’d love that,” Peter whispered, a small, tired smile flickering at his lips.
Tony pulled him close again, nuzzling the top of his head. “It’ll be okay, kiddo. I promise.”
“I know,” Peter said softly. “Thank you. For everything.”
“I’m always here, Spiderling,” Tony said. “Always.”