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littlelovelyspiderling · 6 years ago

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Could you write a fic where Peter's really stressed out and Tony tickles him to make him relax? :3

Um…YES PLEASE!! Thanks so much for the prompt!

Breaking Point

Peter’s got too much on his plate but won’t accept any help. This does not sit well with Tony Stark.

word count: 1,800 (they keep getting shorter whoops)

One way or another, the kid always had something to stress about.

School, friends, finances, crime-fighting—there was never a moment in Peter Parker’s life when he felt like he could just breathe. There were too many things to do in such a short amount of time that required all of his attention to get right. It would be overwhelming for anyone, but for a teenager? It was the end of the world.

Nonetheless, the kid handled it all so well. Too well, in fact. He maintained such a plucky and positive attitude on such a consistent basis, people often forgot what he was dealing with. How could someone so happy be drowning beneath the weight of the world? He had a knack for hiding his struggles and tucking the stress somewhere deep inside himself where no one else could see. He’d gotten so good at it, even those closest to him would sometimes go blind to his troubles. Even Tony Stark.

So Stark had learned to be more vigilant. Peter did, in fact, have a breaking point. And when he finally hit it, when the tiniest signs of anxiety finally slipped through his defenses, Tony knew that meant the kid needed his help. Badly.

Today was one of those occasions. It started with Peter declining his offer to help him on a project in the lab. Peter always wanted to help him in his lab. Then, when Tony tried to hand him a bag of gummy worms, he claimed he wasn’t hungry. Peter was always hungry. Something was up. He never once tried to start or hold a conversation, which were some of his greatest skills. The kid just sat at the desk by the window, facing the wall, jotting down page after page of notes with maddening speed. After an hour of silent scribbling, Stark caved and strolled over to him.

“What’cha up to, kid?” he inquired, sipping his coffee.

Peter glanced up in surprise, as if he’d just snapped him out of a trance. Then his gaze returned to the desk, hardening a little.

“Just outlining my speech for tomorrow. And studying for a midterm. And, uh, writing an essay for Spanish.”

Tony whistled. “Sounds like a lot.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. Just gotta crank through it. High school, y’know?” He plastered on a smile, but Stark saw right through it. The kid’s hand was trembling from writing so feverishly. He examined the pile of textbooks and crushed-up paper wads overcrowding the tabletop.

“Is this all due tomorrow?” Stark asked. Peter visibly winced.

“Um, yeah. I meant to work on it over the entire week, but I just didn’t have time.” He swallowed, scratching the back of his neck. His shoulders hunched around his notebook. “But it’s really no big deal. It’s my own fault, anyway. I’ll get it done.”

Tony felt a sad tug in his chest. He exhaled softly and placed his hand on Peter’s back. “You know you can ask me if you need help, kid. School stuff, hero stuff, anything. I’m always here for you.”

Peter stared up at him and hinted a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. Really. But I’m good.”

With that, he went back to work. The kid was awfully good at deflection. Tony sighed, feeling useless, and stepped away. He wondered if doing what he said and leaving Peter be was really the best way he could help.

Then he watched him—from the lab, on the screen showing the feed from one of the ceiling cameras—and knew that wasn’t true. Once Stark left the room, his front dissolved, and the kid was in shambles. He kept dropping his face into his hands and pulling at his hair. He wrote down two words then immediately balled up the page three times in a row. Tony could practically see the stress waves radiating off him. He was not good. He needed help.

So, puffing out his chest, he ascended the stairs and stomped back up to him, grabbing on to his shoulder.

“Kid, come on. This is stupid. You’re a wreck.”

Peter flinched in surprise, blinking at the frowning Avenger, then dropped his head back on the table, huffing impatiently. “Mr. Stark, please,” he murmured, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Let me help.”

“I don’t need help,” he grumbled. “I need to be left alone so I can focus.”

“You don’t have to do this all on your own,” Tony insisted. “Why do you think the Avengers work as a team?”

“The Avengers don’t have to do homework,” he mumbled, pillowing his head in his arms. He leaned over the desk and hid his face. “Just please go away.”

With just one hand on his shoulder, Stark could feel how stiff he was. He was like a tiny, teenager-shaped volcano on the verge of eruption. The kid needed to relax, and he needed to realize that accepting help when one needed it wasn’t shameful. He pulled his hand back, then observed the way Peter was sitting and ignoring him. He was being both stubborn and unguarded, an unwise combination, which gave Tony an idea.

He didn’t know if it would work, but now he was too curious not to try. Wordlessly, Stark lunged at him from behind, wiggling five fingers into both sides of Peter’s belly.

The response was immediate and hysterical. The kid shot upright with a squeal, slamming both his hands against the table in attempt to guard himself. His voice jumped several octaves higher than usual.

“Ahaha! Mr. Stahark! Whahat are you dohohing?” He grappled at his fingers, giggling like crazy. Tony grinned.

“All you had to do was accept my help. But no, Spidey had to be Mr. Tough Guy, didn’t he?” He kneaded one hand into his ribs and the other into his armpit, making Peter shriek.

“Ehehehaha! S-stohohahap it!” He tried to squirm out of his grip, but the armrests were blocking him, and Stark’s tickly fingers jumped to every new spot his movements exposed. It was like he knew exactly where he was wriggling to next, and what areas that left open for him to tickle. For someone who was rarely physically affectionate with anyone besides Pepper, Tony’s sudden display of teasingly playful behavior was unexpected. Not to mention evil; Peter could barely breathe, he was laughing so hard. He twitched and screeched, torn between guarding himself and grabbing for Stark’s hands. Trying to do both at the same time was very ineffective.

“Here I am, trying so hard to be a good mentor.” Tony squeezed his sides and scribbled all over his belly, eliciting squeaky giggles from the kid’s lips. “But how am I supposed to do that when all you want to do is be a sad, angry grouch sitting alone in the corner? Uh-uh. Not on my watch, bud. This is what you get.”

“Mihihister Stahahahark!” Peter laughed, throwing his head back. “Plehehehease!” He tried going limp, arching his spine, hoping to melt to the floor and escape his hold. Unfortunately, Tony caught on to his scheme, and he wrapped his arms around his midsection, pinning him against the back of the chair. The motion hiked Peter’s shirt up his torso, which he wasn’t fast enough to fix. So, while Stark’s arms trapped him in place, his fingers curled around his sides and drilled mercilessly into his bare stomach. The unbearable tickling sensation sent shocks through his body. Peter fell to pieces.

“AHAHAHAHA! W-WAHAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHAHAHA!” Tears pricked in his eyes as he kicked and squirmed and laughed helplessly. The kid was a lot more sensitive than Tony had anticipated. He wondered if May ever used it against him when he acted this way around her. His giggling was so cute and childlike—and a welcome break from the past hour of muffled grumbling and tense silence. He knew Peter was strong enough to break out of his grip. Either he was too scared of accidentally hurting him, or he was too busy laughing his ass off to remember. Whatever the case, it was amusing to watch the superhero crumble beneath his wiggly-tickly tummy attack.

“Are you going to let me help you now?” Stark asked, skittering his nails across the kid’s ticklish skin. Peter bucked and kicked, squealing with laughter. He was too far from the desk to use it for any sort of leverage.

“Y-YEHEHEHES! YEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” He was going to explode if he didn’t stop.

“Good,” Stark said. “So what do you need help with?” He continued to tickle him, clawing at his belly in circular motions, waiting for an answer.

“W-whahat? I c-cahahan’t—AHAHAHAHA! OHOKAHAY!” His face burned with laughter and embarrassment. “MY SPEEHEEHEECH! I NEEHEED HEHEHELP WIHIHITH MY SPEEHEEHEEHEECH!”

Tony brightened. “Ah, your speech? Great!” With one last pinch to his ribs, he finally let the poor kid go. Peter slumped in his seat, hugging himself around the middle, gasping for breath and giggling weakly.

Stark pulled up a chair beside him, chuckling at the redness in his cheeks and the continuos stream of wheezy laughter bubbling from his lips. “So, what’s your speech about?” he asked, clicking a pen with his thumb.

Peter laughed softly, his head resting against the back of the chair and his eyes closed. “Eheh…oho my gohosh,” he groaned. “W-why dihid you…dohoho thahat…”

“Because you were being a little punk,” he said, tweaking his side. Peter flinched with a yelp. “You weren’t going to let me help you, and you weren’t going to stop marinating in your own stress. I had to improvise.” He grabbed the notebook from the table as Peter giggled helplessly. “Now, speech topic. Either lay it on me, or I’ll have Rhodey pin you to the floor and Dum-E tickle you until you pee yourself.”

Peter winced uneasily. “Okay, heh, okay. Ihit’s…it’s abohoat…endorphins…”

Stark scooted himself and the kid up to the desk, slipping on his favorite pair of high-tech sunglasses. “Perfect! Where should we start?”

Together, they finished all of his work before nine. He even had time to deliver a few practice speeches so Stark could offer him some pointers. For someone so beyond him in knowledge, Tony did a good job of letting him think through the problems he encountered on his own, never once giving up and just flat-out telling him what he thought should be done. Whenever Peter got stuck, he made sure only to nudge him towards possible solutions. If it wasn’t so belittling toward his capabilities, Peter thought he’d make a great college professor.

When they were done, Peter left with a small smile on his face. He was a little rattled from the afternoon, but also grateful. He hoped Stark wouldn’t resort to those measures every time he got a bit anxious. At the same time, if faced with a similar situation of stress and uncertainty in the future, Peter had a feeling it was in his best interest to ask for help from those who cared about him.

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