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Tony
“Pete! You’re gonna be late for school buddy!” Tony turned, closing the lid on the tupperware he had filled for the kid and placing it in the star wars themed lunch box Peter had insisted they get. Tony had personally favored something with a little more taste, like gucci or armani, but Pepper had given him a look and he had sighed and given in to the only two people in his life who could so easily manipulate him.
He heard the door to Peter’s room open and shut and double checked that he had indeed packed everything his son (his son!) would need in the abhorrent excuse for a lunchbox. After seeing that yes, everything was there, Tony grabbed a pack of post it notes lying on the counter and wrote out a quick note to surprise Peter with.
“Have a great day at school buddy! Love you lots. - Dad.”
The billionaire rolled his eyes at himself and his ridiculous display of domesticity. He really had gone soft in his old age.
The kid came rushing in, grabbed the lunchbox, gave Tony a quick hug and ran out the door with a hurried, “bye dad!”
That still hadn’t gotten old.
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Peter
“So then I’m talking to her right, and she’s all, Ned you’re the best! Ned you’re so smart! Ned you’re so cool! And that’s when I knew something was up, cause no one in the history of the galaxy has ever called me cool, except for you but you don’t count cause you’re only like marginally cooler than me. Anyways turns out she just wanted me to do her chemistry homework for her.” Ned was babbling on about his latest in a stream of failed attempts to get a girlfriend.
Peter smiled down as he opened his lunch box, ready to fire back a quip when he saw a sticky note within his lunch. He pulled it out and read the whole thing, once, twice, three times.
Ned stopped, “What’s that bro?”
Peter just stared. Ned yanked the sticky note from Peter’s hand with little protest from the latter. “Aw dude that’s sweet! I mean definitely makes Mr. Stark a bit less of an unattainable godly image and more of like a soccer dad, but sweet.”
Peter nodded, taking the note back and tucking it into his jeans. “Yeah, sweet.”
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Peter didn’t mention the note when he got home, and neither did Tony, but they kept coming. Every day brought a new message, though they all pretty much said the same thing. “Love you”, “I’m proud of you”, “Have a great day”. All messages characteristic of a great dad.
So why did Peter feel so much dread every time he opened his lunchbox and there was yet another note?
It didn’t make any sense, especially because Tony said all those things to him verbally and he was fine with that! At first he had felt like it was too good to be true, but with the steadfastness of his parents being there to remind him that he did, in fact, deserve to be shown love he had gotten a lot better at receiving affection.
But the notes made him feel… wary almost, which was a feeling he never wanted to associate with his dad.
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Dr. Hawkes was gazing at Peter with that look that always made him feel like the universe had been making a joke when it had given her her last name. It was intense, not aggressive, just… accountable. Peter knew she wouldn't talk until he did. They had done this many times before, more so towards the beginning of their sessions, but he knew he wouldn’t win.
To be fair, it was almost certainly the only way he had begun talking to her in the first place, so she was definitely good at her job.
“It’s these notes,” he found himself blurting out.
She nodded at him. “Notes?”
He looked down. “Dad’s been writing these notes that he puts in my lunchbox.”
“What’s on these notes?”
Peter shrugged. “I mean, good stuff. Just like… that he loves me or to have a good day at school.”
She wrote something down. “But they bother you?”
Peter felt his cheeks redden a bit in shame. “Yeah… I mean, I know that’s not fair cause they’re really sweet! And I know dad’s just being affectionate, but they make me feel … guilty I guess.”
“And why do you think they make you feel guilty Peter?” the doctor asked.
Peter shrugged again, recoiling into the couch. That was a question he had been asking himself for the past few days.
Dr. Hawkes hummed. “How are you doing with verbal and physical affection right now?”
Peter looked up again. “Good. I mean yeah, like, it’s easier to believe it now, I guess? Like I still sometimes feel like I don’t deserve it or whatever, but then I go through the mantras we worked on, and I’m usually good again.”
The therapist smiled at the brunet boy across from her, so proud of his progress. When Peter had first come to see her he had been adamant about the fact that he did not deserve to be loved like Tony and Pepper were willing to love him. He had told her on multiple occasions that he had deserved the abuse he had suffered before coming into his new home. Now, he was receptive towards the affection shown to him and able to handle his own intrusive thoughts when they occured.
However this all gave her a pretty good indication of the cause for the current issue.
“Peter, can I run something by you?”
The teen nodded.
“Do you think that maybe, you’re reacting this way to the notes because they’re a new form of affection you’re not used to?”
The kid looked like someone had punched him.
“You mean I’m still just fucking broken?!” he sobbed.
Dr. Hawkes retained her composure. This was hardly the first time Peter had cried during a session. “You’re not broken Peter. Remember what we talked about? You were in a situation where affection was almost completely foreign for six years, and then another where it was scarce or tainted for eight. That’s gonna come with some roadblocks in getting reacclimated.”
Peter sniffed and wiped the sleeve of his hoodie against his nose.
She decided to put it in terms he would gravitate towards. “Pete, if someone grew up isolated, and then they went outside for the first time, their immune system would probably be weak right? Well it’s the same situation here. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with your immune system, it’s just that this is something it’s never encountered before.”
The kid nodded at that, which she counted as a win. Seeing that their session was coming to a close she added one last thing. “Ok, homework. I want you to talk to Tony about the notes.”
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Tony
Tony was working in the lab, updating basic maintenance tasks in his old suits when he heard the unmistakable sound of his Dum-E squealing in a way he only did when he saw Peter.
He turned, a smile on his face until he saw the remnants of tear tracks on his kid’s face.
The smile gone, he hurried over, enveloping the curly-haired teen in his arms and murmuring softly in his ear. “Hush bambino, it’s alright. Let it out if you need to.”
That was all the prompting Peter seemed to need before he was a hysterical mess in Tony’s arms. The mechanic half dragged, half carried the kid to the tattered old futon he used to keep in the lab for his 10 minute power naps during week long work binges, but now mostly kept for cuddling his kid.
This routine wasn't exactly new to them either. When Peter had first started going to therapy, they had happened after practically every session. Unearthing all his old trauma left him feeling raw and vulnerable, and luckily he felt comfortable enough seeking solace in Tony’s arms.
As grateful as he was that Peter trusted him though, it didn’t make it any easier to see him cry.
After a few minutes where the sobbing lessened to occasional whimpers, Tony pulled back to wipe at his child’s face with the sleeve of his shirt, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.
“You ready to talk tesoro?”
The smaller brunet nodded a bit against his chest. “Homework.”
Tony nodded in understanding back at him, very familiar with the terminology Peter’s therapist used.
“Just … okay so -” Peter exhaled carefully. “The notes in my lunchbox are hard … for me.”
Tony grimaced, realizing immediately the issue at hand. He was intimately familiar with how displays of affection could trigger his kid. He really should have been more careful with the notes in the first place. “I’m sorry kiddo. I didn’t know. I swear if I had had any idea I would have stopped. I won’t do it again.” He was careful not to ask why Peter hadn’t told him, though that was a first instinct. A few family therapy sessions had left him and Pepper very aware of how they phrased things. Peter had a habit of feeling guilty for things that were not even remotely his fault, and they didn’t want to exacerbate that in any way.
“No! No, it’s not your fault dad, it’s mine,” the younger murmured.
Case in point.
Tony shook his head. “I know it feels that way Pete but it’s not.”
Peter stood, running his hands haphazardly through his hair. “It is! I’m just so freaking broken! It’s like I'm this leaky boat, and we plug up one hole but two more pop up! Why won’t you just let me sink?!”
Tony stood, facing his kid, his son, his baby. “I will never let you sink Peter. And you’re not broken. You’re healing.” He sighed. “Kid, you’ve had me and your mom in your life for about eight months. Think about all the progress you’ve made to heal from years of abuse in just that time. Things will get better, even if there are little bumps in the road. New displays of affection are bound to be hard to process. It is not your fault. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. And I will be there through everything, ok? Everything.”
He reached forward to tilt his son’s chin up. “Kiddo…”
He suddenly had his arms stuffed full of teenager, the hug bordering on painful from Peter’s superstrength, not that Tony could find it within himself to mind.
“Thank you dad” Peter whispered, hoping that Tony got the hidden message.
Thank you for reminding me I deserve to be loved.
Tony did, in fact, get the message, and tightened his hold marginally on the kid.
“Dad?” Peter mumbled. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like it if you kept sending the notes.”
He kissed Peter’s forehead. “Of course kiddo, whatever you want.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too bambino.”