#stupid inbox still being glitchy

[hitwiththetmnt]

Look at this fine gentleman, look at the way he sits

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion @vanilkaray

Cabin #7 (7Wonders of the Turtleverse)

[tonystarkstan]

Peter wakes up just as night tips into day. It’s dark enough that the world is still hazy with sleep, and burrowing into his blankets is the better option, but it’s late enough that the anxieties of the day are already starting to peel at him.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling that runs through every part of him, to the tips of his fingers. Like he’s unraveling, as if whatever fabric that held him together is splitting at the seams, and he wraps his blankets tightly around him to combat the feeling.

Truthfully, he just wants to go back to sleep. But even that’s been restless for him, plagued by cries for help and Peter failing failing failing every time.

I wanted you to be better.

Why won’t those words leave him? Why won’t they let him rest? He second-guesses everything he does, and he is always left with the feeling that if he could just—if he could just be better, if he could be good enough, then maybe something would be different.

Maybe people would like him, and maybe they wouldn’t leave him, and maybe he wouldn’t hurt others and they wouldn’t hurt him and maybe Ben would still be alive and maybe maybe maybe—

He snatches his phone from the bedside table and picks it up before he loses all resolve. Peter hits speed dial and waits anxiously.

After the fourth ring, just when Peter’s about to hang it up and pretend he never did this, he hears a click, and a groggy voice speaks.

“Hey, Pete. Is everything okay? It’s kinda early for you to be up on a Saturday,” Tony comments, and Peter seriously considers just hanging up the phone and going back to sleep. He could feed Tony some lie later. “Peter?” Tony questions cautiously when the kid doesn’t answer. “Don’t tell me you some how managed to butt dial me in your sleep.”

Peter waits another second, tries to pry the heavy weight off his chest just enough so he can speak.

“How do I be better? You said—you said you wanted me to be better. How do I do that?” he asks, voice small. He feels like a little kid, feels like he’s fundamentally a failure because everything—every relationship he’s had has crumbled because of something he did or didn’t do.

He’s so scared. He’s so scared Tony or Ned or MJ will be next.

There’s another beat of silence, and Peter briefly wonders if Tony is going to get mad at him. Maybe he’ll hang up, pretend like this call never happened.

He hears Tony let out a breath. “Oh, kiddo,” he says gently. “Is your aunt home?”

Peter shakes his head before realizing Tony can’t see. “No, she had an early shift at the hospital.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be there in ten,” is all Tony says before hanging up and leaving Peter with nothing but anxiety fraying at his nerves. He feels raw, like a simple word or action could have his tenuous hold on self-control toppling.

There’s a small part of him that craves the fall. But he knows he can never, ever give in to that.

Peter sits on his bed, wrapped tightly in his blankets and tries not to think about anything at all.

Nine minutes later, there’s a knock at his door. He clears his throat, tries to get the rope around his neck to loosen. “Come in,” he says, and Tony does.

He’s wearing an old t-shirt, still rumpled from sleep, and a pair of sweatpants, as if he’d hopped out of bed and gone straight to Peter without even stopping to change. That’s probably exactly what he did.

Guilt wells up inside Peter, and he wonders what he ever did to deserve that attention.

Tony doesn’t even hesitate before plopping down next to Peter and looking over at him.

“So. You wanna tell me what’s got you so worked up at almost seven in the morning?” Tony prompts.

Peter picks nervously at the edge of his blanket, turning words over in his head, checking and double checking that they won’t mess anything up even more.

“I just.... It’s stupid. I messed up on patrol last night, and—and May and I got into an argument and I keep—I keep thinking about what you said.” Peter looks up at Tony with imploring eyes. “I want to be better,” he whispers. “How do I change, how do I be different, how do I do that?”

Tony furrows his brows at that. “Whoa, wait—hold up, Pete. One screw up doesn’t mean you need to change everything. In fact, I happen to like this Peter.”

“You’d be the only one,” Peter mutters.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Tony counters.

“Is it?” Peter snaps, suddenly heated. “Because I’m—I try to be the best Spider-Man I can be and I try to be the best Peter Parker I can be and no one seems to be happy with it. The Daily Bugle hates me—”

“The Daily Bugle doesn’t even count,” Tony snorts.

“—and May’s tired of me—”

“She just wants you to be safe,” Tony argues.

“—and I’m never around enough for Ned, and he hates me for it, and not to be dramatic but sometimes I just want to stay in bed and disappear,” Peter says heatedly. In the back of his mind, he cringes at how dramatic and childish he sounds.

But he can’t help it. It’s not that he wants to die necessarily. He just wants to... go away. To stop being.

Tony lets out a big breath. “Well, unfortunately, I still haven’t perfected my version of the invisibility cloak. It’s still glitchy, so the disappearing act is gonna have to wait,” he teases, gently nudging Peter, who offers him a reluctant smile.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbles. He’s not even sure disappearing would help. He just wants to crawl out of his skin and be someone who isn’t him. He says as much.

“Jesus, you’re not a hermit crab, Pete. But even if you were, I like this shell,” Tony says before wincing. “Okay, bad analogy. Listen, when I said what I said to you, I was angry. Angry that you went behind my back and didn’t trust me. But more than that, I was scared.” Tony sighs. “I used to be reckless, Pete. It tore apart a lot of my relationships for a bit. And I don’t want you going down that path. That’s all I meant.”

Peter mulls his words over for a second. There’s a part of him, bigger than he wants to admit, that wants to just stop—stop—stop doing it all. Stop talking to Tony and Ned and MJ—but not May, course—and simply... fade away from everyone. That’d be easier than trying to navigate who he is and who he should be and who he can be and who people want him to be.

But at the end of the day, Peter knows this: he’s just too damn needy to do that. He loves them. And he’ll never stop loving them. So instead, he nods.

“Okay,” he says simply.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I mean—I get it now,” Peter clarifies. “It’s—I’m just being overdramatic.”

“Not really. We just need to get you some self-esteem, yeah?”

“Self-esteem? Who’s she?” Peter jokes, and Tony swats at him.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. You’re a good kid, kid. I just wish you’d see it.”

“Yeah, well...” Peter doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he doesn’t. It’s not something that’ll happen overnight.

“So where do you want to go from here, bud?” Tony prompts into the silence, and Peter shrugs.

“Honestly?”

“Honesty’s always good,” Tony says wryly, and Peter huffs out a laugh.

“I just really want to sleep,” he admits. And maybe it’s because he barely slept last night, and maybe it’s because he wants to escape for a bit. It doesn’t matter.

“Then sleep,” Tony says softly. “I’ll be right here.”

“You don’t have to—” Peter starts to protest, but Tony cuts him off.

“I want to. Plus, I brought my tablet and I’d much rather do paperwork and read emails here than with Pepper breathing down my neck,” he jokes.

“Hm. That’s fair,” Peter concedes, and Tony pulls the blankets up over Peter’s head.

“Sleep tight,” Tony tells him, pulling out his tablet and groaning at the number of emails in his inbox.

Peter settles against his pillows, relaxing for the first time in awhile. He takes comfort in the presence of his mentor beside him, soothing his frayed nerves.

And finally, finally, he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.