Irondad Oneshots

feelings in my headspace rearranged

IMPORTANT AN: I've officially decided to make a specific request book to separate everything bcs I have a lot of requests to write. So basically just more oneshots from me! So go check that out!

I don't know why but I decided to challenge myself to a no dialogue fic.

Skip Fic Requested by WonderousWinter

TW for Noncon/rape/underage don't read if this is triggering or makes you uncomfortable – not graphic, but heavily implied.

*

There's a difference between cold and cool.

There's a difference between hot and warm.

Cold is the glares thrown across the room when he's done nothing but exist. It's when the hot water runs out when he's sitting at the bottom of the shower for hours after he's left alone. It's the air biting at his exposed skin. It's the rush of gasoline to his stomach when he hears the lock click, knowing he'll be stuck here. It's the icy hands over his mouth when May gets home early. It's the whisper to be quiet and the breath against his ears.

Cool is the calloused hands touching his cheek and tilting his face up under the lights to get a better look at leftover bruises. It's the leftover pizza on nights he's allowed to stay as long as he can. It's the windows he leans his head against in the car rides that feels like a sanctuary. It's the ice against the heat of his bruised skin. It's the laughter finally let out in his only safe haven.

Hot is the lips pressed against his crawling skin, telling him to stay still. It's the boiling water shredding his back to pieces, pink when it hits the drain. It's the bruises burning against his skin as soon as they appear. It's the twisting of his stomach, lighting on fire whenever May tells him she's taking another overnight shift. It's the hands in his hair, pulling and grabbing handfuls. It's the words, screamed at him whenever it's late and they're alone. It's the shame, tinging his skin pink whenever he thinks of the horrors.

Warm is the arms encircling his waist and letting him fall into the embrace. It's the soft breaths to follow whenever he works himself into a panic. It's the hot chocolate on sleepless nights when they sit in front of the fireplace and speak quietly of other times and think of secrets never shared. It's the dinners shared, takeout but sometimes homemade, laughing through stupid movies. It's the careful kisses pressed to his forehead or cheeks in passing, comforting and grounding.

Hot and Warm are different.

Cold and Cool are different.

The difference lies in Tony Stark and Skip Westcott.

*

May started dating Steven – Skip – Westcott six months ago.

He moved in three months ago.

Peter doesn't know what to do anymore

*

Peter doesn't mean to flinch when Tony tries to hug him.

He knows Tony is safe.

He knows Tony isn't Skip.

But he still feels scared.

Like he's a helpless little kid who doesn't understand the world around him. Maybe he is.

He asks if they can stay in the living room instead of working in the lab that day. Something about being alone, without escape, with another older man makes him feel skittish. He tells Tony he's just tired and doesn't trust himself around all the equipment.