Peter Stark was mad. No, he was seething. His dad just didn't understand! He hated his lunchbox now absolutely hated it. He was six whole years old and still bringing an Avengers lunchbox to school.

Flash Thompson and his friends said that Peter was a dumb little baby for bringing such a stupid lunchbox to school, every day.

So of course when his dad gave him his lunchbox (even though it held his favorite kind of sandwich) he threw a fit, refusing to take it. Then, his dad had the audacity to demand why he didn't like turkey and cheese sandwiches anymore, which made Peter even more angry.

But a dumb thing about Peter, was that when he got angry, his stupid eyes started crying! So he stood there crying and having a fit about the lunchbox, and his dad kept saying how he did like turkey and cheese, but Peter knew that! He knew what he liked!

After that, his dad got mad and put his lunchbox in his bag anyway and made him get in the car so he could go to school. That led to now, with Peter sitting in his car seat with tears dripping down his cheeks as his his face was contorted in anger.

He didn't want to be a dumb little baby! "We're here, Peter. Go inside." His dad said, clearly agitated with him. That made Peter even more mad. Daddy didn't understand! He shouldn't be mad! Peter was mad, not him!

The first grader didn't bother responding, climbing out angrily and slamming the door behind him as hard as he could so his dad knew just how angry he was.

Peter might have heard his dad yelling something, but he pretended not to hear him and raced up the steps of his school. He stopped at the door, though, turning around and watching his dad's black car drive off.

Gnawing at his lip, Peter began back down the steps, noticing a few students looking at him weird for walking away from school when it was starting, but nobody stopped him. If he went inside with his dumb lunchbox, then Flash would see and make fun of him again.

As they were driving, Peter was pretty sure he saw a dumpster a few blocks back the way they came, so the young boy made his way toward where he thought it was.

After almost two blocks, he still couldn't see it and began to grow nervous, glancing back to make sure he could still see the school. He could, so he was fine. Maybe he'd be a few minutes late but at least he wouldn't have a dumb lunchbox.

Peter suddenly remembered that when his dad drove him to school, there were turns, so he turned at the next block, craning his neck to look for the dumpster. There was more than one turn, right? So he took another.

Surely, he'd see the dumpster soon, right? He couldn't find it. He held his backpack a little tighter and took another turn. He'd find it soon, right? A sudden terror flooded through him. He didn't know if these were the right turns.

They had to be, right? But there were so many roads and turns in New York. What if he took the wrong ones? Peter's hands began to shake as he looked around wildly.

This was a bad idea. He needed to go back to school. He could throw away the lunchbox inside. Trying to retrace his steps, Peter stopped at the first turn. Which way had he turned the first time?

Standing on the tips of his toes, Peter's head whipped around frantically to see if he could find the school. He couldn't. The young boy backed against the wall of a coffee shop with tears stinging his eyes.

He was lost. Before long, Peter felt tears dripping down his face and he sniffled, reaching up to wipe them away. They weren't mad tears anymore, they were sad ones. He was scared.

His daddy always said to always stay with a trusted adult in the public because his dad was very famous and some people didn't like him or Peter.

The brunet's lips began trembling and he wiped at his nose as he felt snot on his lip. He didn't care about the lunchbox anymore. He just wanted to go back to school. No, he wanted to go home.

But his dad probably didn't care anymore. Peter was yelling and his dad seemed mad. He was probably so angry that he didn't want Peter to come back anymore.

Peter began to sob quietly, covering his eyes with his hands and trying to stop shaking.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" A voice asked.

The young Stark flinched, his hands dropping to his sides as he continued to cry quietly. "I-I'm not supposed to talk to st-strangers." He hiccuped out, shrinking against the wall and fidgeting with his hands.

The person that had said that was a woman with dark brown hair and a weird smile. "Well, my name's May. My husband and I own this coffee shop. There, not strangers anymore." She said, crouching down to his level.

"M-My name's Peter." He said finally, still breathing shakily.

"Well, Peter, what's wrong? Where are your parents?" May asked.

"I-I'm supposed to be at school but I w-wanted to find a dumpster to throw away my lunchbox and now I'm l-lost." He stuttered, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

May smiled softly, reaching forward to wipe away his tears. "Well, why don't you come inside the shop here and tell me your parents' number?" She suggested.

Peter looked in the window of the coffee shop. There were a few people inside but not a lot, and May seemed nice. "O-okay. Can I wait for Daddy inside?" He asked slowly.

May smiled, standing back up. "Of course, come on in." She said, and Peter gripped her hand tightly, following her inside.

May brought him over to a seat close to the cash register and swiped her phone off the counter. "Now, do you know your Daddy's number?" May asked kindly.

Peter sniffled once again, nodding, and rattled it out quietly. "Can you tell me his name so I know what to call him?" She murmured as she pressed ring and put the phone to her ear.

"Tony Stark." Peter mumbled. There was a split second where May's eyes widened almost comically, but then the call connected and she smoothed her features down.

"Hi, is this T-Tony Stark?" She asked.

Peter couldn't hear his dad, but listened to May anyway.

"No, no! I'm not a fan. Your son gave me your number." She rushed out suddenly, and Peter's gaze dropped to the ground.

"You have? Yeah, of course. He's with me at May and Ben's Coffee." She explained, glancing to Peter.

"Sweetheart? Do you want to talk to your dad?" She questioned.

Peter's head snapped back up and his eyes widened as he shook his head frantically. Daddy would yell at him! May frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry, he won't take the phone. Yeah, of course, see you in twenty minutes?"

May tucked her phone away and Peter started biting at his lip again. "Are you hungry, Peter? Would you like a donut?" She asked gently. He shook his head.

"I don't have any money with me." He said quietly.

"Oh, don't worry about it. What do you like, chocolate?" May waved it off, smiling.

Peter peeked at her interestedly. "Yeah. . ." He admitted, and May laughed, walking behind the counter and using a wax sheet to grab a chocolate donut for him.

He smiled as she came back and sat down across from him. "Here you go, buddy."

Peter took it happily. "Thank you Miss May." He said softly, then took a big bite out of it.

May giggled at him. "It's just May, sweetie."

"Okay Miss May." He said through a mouthful of chocolate.

She rolled her eyes playfully as Peter continued to eat. Because of his argument with his dad that morning, he hadn't had breakfast.

After Peter had finished most of it, May leaned forward on her elbows. "So, buddy, can you tell me why you wanted to throw away your lunchbox?" She questioned.

Peter paused with the donut half-way to his mouth and nodded, looking down guiltily. "It's an Avengers one, and I love the Avengers 'cause they're my family, and I even love my turkey and cheese sandwich, but Flash says that my lunchbox is a dumb one, it's for babies. And I'm six whole years old! I'm not a baby! And so I didn't want to use it anymore but Daddy wouldn't listen and so I had to throw it away." He explained, throwing his hands out in wild gestures.

May was frowning by the end of it. "Well, first off, that Flash kid is wrong. I used a lunchbox all the way up to fifth grade, and mine had puppies on it." May said exaggeratedly.

Peter's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yep! And I'm sure your lunchbox is amazing. You loved it before Flash said anything, right?" She continued. Peter shrugged.

"Well, yeah. . ."

"And this Flash sounds like a bully. Is he mean a lot?"

Now that he thought about it, "Yeah. . ." He mumbled.

"Do you still have it with you?" May questioned, smiling softly.

"Yep." Peter said, slipping his bag off his shoulders and undoing the zipper. Hesitantly, he pulled it out and placed it on the table.

May smiled. "See? That is a big boy lunchbox. Heck, I might even get one of those!"

Peter beamed. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

He smiled, then stuffed it back in his bag. He didn't care what Flash said anymore. He loved his lunchbox.

Smiling again, Peter continued to eat his donut. "Now, secondly, Peter, did you tell your dad why you were upset?" May hedged.

Peter froze. "Well, no. . ." He admitted, and he finally realized why his dad was mad too. He was acting a bit like a baby.

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he finally finished the donut, and suddenly the door opened. "Peter?"

The boy's head whipped toward the door, as did everyone else's in the shop, as Tony Stark walked in, face contorted in worry.

"Daddy!" Peter cried, hopping out of his seat. The second his dad laid eyes on him, he breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward, scooping his son into his arms.

"Peter, you scared me so bad. Oh my god." The man breathed, holding Peter tight against his chest. Finally, after about a full minute of just holding him, he pulled back so the boy could see his face.

"Peter, do you have any idea how scared I was? The school called and said you weren't there, and I had no idea where you'd went-" The billionaire stopped himself, sighing.

"I am so glad you're okay, tesoro." He murmured. Peter sniffled quietly.

"I'm sorry Daddy. Are you mad?" He squeaked.

"No, bud, god no. I think we've both earned a day off, yeah? How about we head home and watch a movie. You can explain what happened then, alright?" His dad said with a small half-smile.

Peter beamed up at the man. "That sounds good. Sorry for making you worry, Daddy."

The older man pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll always worry about you, kiddo, it's a father's job."

Peter rested his head against his dad's chest, no longer scared or mad or sad. When he was with his dad, all his worries went away.

After his dad grabbed his backpack from the seat, Peter waved goodbye to May and the Stark's were on their way home.

When Tony found out about Flash, the other boy may or may not have become a whole lot more scared than Peter was that day.