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stevie-steven-stevington · 5 years

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Febuwhump Day 2: Peer Pressure

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark Category: Gen Relationships: Peter Parker/Ned Leeds (mentioned) Rating: T Warnings: discussions of sex Words 2k

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this is a direct sequel to this fic

this is really loosely interpreted lmAO but also loosely based off my own struggles with my sexuality so. take it i guess

“What was your first time like?”

Tony looks over at the kid, hands stilling and eyebrows automatically creeping up his forehead. This is…not what he expected, to say the least. Peter’s been quiet all evening, disconcertingly so - it was clear from the moment he stepped into the building that something was off, but Tony couldn’t quite figure out what is was.

He still has no idea where the hell this is going.

Eh. One way to find out.

“My...first time,” Tony repeats, slowly. Just to be sure he heard it right.

Peter won’t look at him, eyes trained on the table in front of him. His voice is small when he says, “Yeah. Like - like the first time you -”

“No, I know, kid.” Tony squints at him, as if that will make this any clearer. He wants to ask - why on Earth do you want to know? - but he gets the feeling that the question wouldn’t be appreciated right now. “I, uh - my first time was…short. Awkward. It kind of sucked, to be honest.”

The kid nods slightly, absently chewing on the fingernail of his left thumb. There’s something...sad, in his demeanor, in his posture, in the way he holds himself, and Tony wants nothing more than to put an end to whatever or whoever put it there.

It’s quiet for a moment. Tony can practically feel Peter thinking, and he turns back to his work, giving Peter space to work out whatever it is he needs to work out.

Eventually, gaze still downcast, muffled around the finger in his mouth, Peter says, “So did it…it got better, right? After the - the first time, I mean, it got better?” Something is so wrong here.

This is such a loaded question, it’s clear in Peter’s tone. Though loaded with what, he doesn’t know. There’s layers to this whole conversation, really, like there’s something he’s supposed to say but no one bothered to tell him what it is. This wasn’t exactly in the Mentoring a Teenage Spiderling handbook.

(He wonders if this was in the Parenting a Teenage Spiderling handbook, and then he reminds himself that neither of those actually exist.)

This feels like a test of some sorts. Like this, rather than anything Spider-Man related, is the big test of whether or not he’s actually good at this whole mentor thing.

Okay.

Alright, Tones, you can do this. It’s just a kid. It’s just Peter.

Except there is no “just Peter”. Don’t fuck this kid up, Tony.

Is it really going to fuck up the kid if I mess up this one conversation? Seems like it might.

…Shit. It kind of does.

“Yeah,” Tony replies, jaw tight with something like nerves. Peter stiffens, almost imperceptibly, and Tony feels like his words are already wrong. Turns out, his words are wrong a lot of the time, so he’s not surprised. But now he’s stuck in his answer. “Yeah, I mean, it - yes, it took a while to figure things out. To figure out what worked and what didn’t and all that.” It’s the truth. What else is he supposed to say?

Peter doesn’t say anything, one foot kicking back and forth against the floor. He looks so small, so young, sitting at his work station (the one Tony set up specifically for him, because he’s like that, he’s always been like that).

Tony forgets, sometimes, that Peter’s just a kid. That the actual superhero sitting in his lab is just sixteen years old. A high school junior. A child.

An impressionable kid who’s currently asking him, Tony fucking Stark, playboy extraordinaire, about sex.

Well, it’s not like he has many other people to go to, Tony supposes. The list of trusted adults in Peter’s life is a rousing two, and maybe he just thought it’d be less awkward with him than with his aunt. Or maybe he just knows that Tony has more...experience in this department. The kid is still silent. Which is not only concerning, but also sort of disturbing.

Peter doesn’t do quiet. Peter always talks, always has something or other to say, always aims to fill the silence even when he seems like he hates the sheer act of taking up space.

The roles are reversed now, it seems. Tony doesn’t like it.

“Pete -” Hearing his name jolts Peter out of whatever stupor he’s in and he interrupts, finger dropping from his mouth, as if Tony hadn’t even spoken. “So you made it better. You - you found the things that f-felt good and you worked with those, yeah?” “I...I guess,” Tony says, and his voice sounds strange even to his own ears. Peter hasn’t stuttered around him in ages. The hero worship hasn’t quite worn off, exactly, but the stuttering hasn’t been an issue in forever. “But listen, kid -” “So you didn’t just...automatically like it. It wasn’t s-something that just - just clicked?” Peter barrels on, head finally jerking up to look at Tony. There’s desperation in his eyes. A sharp, hysterical type of desperation that Tony hates, hates more than anything else he’s ever seen on Peter’s face. He’s seen fear, he’s seen pain, and he’s seen anger in Peter, more times than he’d like to say, but none of that compares to the distress he sees now. “Everyone always says that it just clicks, that - that - that you’re just supposed to know what to do and how to do it and what feels good and what you want and -”

“Peter.”

“What?” The kid is practically panting, what with all his words coming out in one breath. And it’s hard to tell from across the lab, but he thinks Peter is shaking.

“Look, Underoos, if you - if you have questions, I’m more than willing to give you the answers. If you want to know what’s what, I’m here for you, okay? But Pete, you came out to me like two months ago.” Tony scrubs a hand across his face, left wrist twinging in that way that it does, every so often. “I mean, if you’re telling me now that you’re actually not asexual, if you’re not sex...averse, was it? Then okay. That’s okay, Pete, if your label has changed, that’s fine, buddy. But if that’s it, then you have to tell me, because right now, you’re kind of scaring me.”

For a second, Peter just stares at him. Then he shakes his head, slowly, like he wishes he didn’t have to. “It’s - it’s not. I’m…still asexual.” “Okay. Okay.” Tony stands and walks over to Peter, kneeling next to the stool he’s sat on. Because he was right. Something is so wrong. “Then why are you asking about sex as if you’re thinking about having it, Pete?”

Peter looks down again, staring at his hands. Tony has to lean down and tilt his head a little to see Peter’s face, and he watches in vague horror as the kid’s eyes fill with tears. “I just…if everyone else has to work at it for them to like sex, why - why can’t I?” Shit. Shit.

That’s what this is.

He’d thought, when Peter came out to him two months ago, that he was comfortable in it. Relatively so, at least. That he done all the soul-searching, that he had accepted himself, that he didn’t need any help with all of it. And he was wrong, clearly.

Fuck.

He’s been trying so damn hard not to be like his father. And yet, here he is, with no idea what the hell his kid needs.

His kid.

Peter’s not his kid. Not biologically, at least.

But who is he kidding? In some way, somehow, whatever that way may be, Peter’s his kid. And his kid needs him to say the right thing here.

“Peter…Peter, look at me.” When he doesn’t, Tony lifts his head up with two gentle fingers. Peter’s eyes dart around for a moment before settling on Tony’s nose. Not quite what he was going for, but he’ll take it. “Peter, the reason my first time sucked was because I was fifteen, stupid, and immature. I didn’t know what I was doing and neither did the girl I was with. God, we were in a car, Peter. I had sex for the first time in the back of a car, at fifteen years old, and it sucked. “But it still felt good, Peter. Emotionally, at least. Because I wanted it. Because my partner wanted it. Even if it was reckless and dumb and I wish, in retrospect, that I’d waited, we still both wanted it. Sex is never going to feel good if you don’t want it to begin with.”

“But - but -” Tony pushes a few wayward strands of hair off of Peter’s forehead. “Peter, what’s going on?” Tears run down Peter’s cheeks, and he makes no move to wipe them away. He just sits there, hands trembling on the table in front of him, and cries.

And then he’s sobbing, full-on sobbing, and saying, “T-there’s just so much pressure, Mr. Stark. I - everyone is h-having sex and then everyone is talking about it. Everything’s about sex and I - I know that sex isn’t everything, but god, it’s hard to believe that when virgin is the latest insult that p-people toss around at school. I - I just, I feel like I’m m-missing something, like I’m - I’m -”

“Like you’re what, Peter?”

“Like I’m broken,” Peter chokes out, and Tony actually feels his heart break.

Fuck, he doesn’t know how to deal with this. The first time he’d even heard the word asexual outside of high school biology class was from Peter. He’s never had to deal with peer pressure, or general societal pressure, when it comes to sex, because he’s never not wanted to have sex.

What do you say to a kid who doesn’t want the one thing everyone else seems to be obsessed with?

Tony rests a hand on Peter’s knee, takes a breath, and gives it his best damn shot. “Kid, you - you’re not broken, okay? Not wanting sex doesn’t make you broken. Does it make you different? Sure, in a way. But so does being Spider-Man. So does being a sixteen-year-old who can lift a car. Is that a bad thing?”

Peter sniffles. “No.” “And neither is being asexual. Just because something makes you different does not mean it makes you broken. Not everyone wants sex. Not every couple has sex. I - I know it feels like the whole damn world revolves around sex, but that doesn’t mean your world has to. That doesn’t mean that you’re wrong for not wanting it.” “But - but what if...someone I’m dating wants -” “Ned’s not pressuring you, is he?”

Peter blinks in surprise at him. “What? No. Jesus, no, of course not. He - he’d never. Just - I mean, we’re sixteen, I know there’s - there’s no guarantee that I’ll be with Ned forever. What if someone else, somewhere down the line, wants...something that I can’t give them?”

Tony sighs. “I don’t - Pete, look, I don’t have all the answers. I can’t tell you what will happen somewhere down the line or - or how to handle some hypothetical future relationship. But what I will say is just…don’t hurt yourself to help someone else. Don’t - don’t force yourself to do something you don’t want to do to please another person, whether they’re your boyfriend or girlfriend or husband or wife or whatever. You take care of yourself first, alright?”

A pause, then Peter nods. “I - okay. I will.”

“Good. And kid, I know I can’t just fix all of this with one little pep talk. I know that…accepting yourself, your sexuality, it takes a lot more than someone telling you that it’s okay. But it is. It is okay - it’s more than okay, it’s perfect. Because it’s you. And you are perfect just the way you are, Peter.”

Finally, finally, a smile. A watery, shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless. Take that, Howard.

“It might -” Peter swipes a hand across his cheeks, sniffs, starts again. “It might take a while for me to…to believe that. To really, actually believe it. But it’s really nice to hear, Mr. Stark.”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need me to, kiddo.”

“I know. Thank you...Tony,” Peter says, and the smile widens.

And it’s not okay. Not now, not yet.

But it’s better.

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