Work Text:
i.
Everyone had their way of escaping.
At least, that was what he told himself as he made his way to the lab, anger a bitter taste on his tongue and a burning heat behind his eyes.
Everyone has their way of escaping.
He turned on the lights, eyes actively seeking out any scraps to work with.
Goddamn Steve fucking Rogers. A righteous man, loved by the entire world. A man who did what was right and accepted responsibility for his actions.
It wasn’t like Tony wasn’t trying to fix the Accords. It wasn’t as if he was going to leave everything in the mess that it was already in. But the fact that Steve wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t even humor Tony for a fraction of a second…
Tony scoffed, throwing a piece of scrap metal at the wall.
He knew better.
He knew that Captain America had little to no respect for rules and regulations. He also knew Cap tended to shift the blame, rarely – if ever – being the one to shoulder it.
Tony forced himself to take a breath. A suit. He should make a new suit. Peter’s or his, it didn’t matter.
He glanced at the line of all of his suits, deciding instead to work on any new upgrades Peter might want. More web combinations. A parachute that would reinstall itself. A better version of Interrogation Mode.
He winced at the last one. After the entire Vulture incident, Peter had demonstrated Interrogation Mode for him, and well…
Tony was less than impressed.
Of course, he could chalk it up to extreme sleep deprivation and too much stress.
He wasn’t going to.
But he could.
Tony turned on the holographic display, pulling up his chair. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., pull up the file on Spider-Man’s suit.” He was greeted with 500+ web combinations, bulletproof material, and an AI that Peter named Karen.
He knew he should probably have asked Peter for help on his own suit. After all, the kid was an absolute genius. But Peter was energetic and curious and happy, and right now, Tony was as pissed off as they come.
He didn’t want to do that to the kid.
He didn’t know how long he’d been working when he heard the excited jabbering of Peter Parker and the frustrated grumbling of Happy.
“Kid, no, he’s busy.”
“I know, Happy. You’ve told me eighteen times, but I need his help on this math assignment.”
“Kid, he doesn’t have time to do your homework!”
“We’ll seeee,” Peter responded in a sing-song voice.
Tony unlocked the lab doors, trying to suppress a smile. Peter came bounding through the glass doors into the lab, Happy following close behind.
“I’m sorry, boss, but he wouldn’t listen –”
Tony raised a hand, effectively cutting Happy off. “I heard. But I don’t see any harm in helping the kid with homework.”
Happy glared at him as Peter practically jumped up and down with excitement. “Really, Mr. Stark?” At Tony’s nod, Peter gasped softly, dropping his backpack and fishing out his math book. “Thank you!”
Happy left the lab, grumbling about “teenagers taking over the world.” Or something like that. Tony wasn’t paying attention.
Peter situated himself at one end of the lab table, pencil in hand and math book open. Tony sighed and walked to stand beside Peter.
“Calculus? Already? Aren’t you, like, twelve?”
Peter glared at him. “Fifteen,” he said. “And, yeah, Calc sucks ass.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “Language.”
Peter blushed, looking back down at the assignment.
The problem was simple, he knew. On any other day, this problem would have been easy. All that was needed was a simple equation in which to plug in the numbers.
The trouble was, Tony couldn’t remember the formula.
He knew Peter was looking up at him expectantly. He knew the order the numbers were plugged into the formula. He just couldn’t remember any signs or coefficients that might have existed.
“M-mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was timid and tentative, gently tiptoeing just in case Tony would be set off.
Tony sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead.
“D-do you know how to work this out?”
He heard Peter’s voice, knew the kid was talking to him.
But the roar of blood in his ears was louder, effectively quickening his breathing and causing his hands to tremble with anger.
“Mr. Stark?”
“Yes?” It came out more frustrated than intended, and he opened his eyes in time to see Peter shrink away from him.
Great.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
He sighed again. “It’s not your fault,” he said slowly. “It’s just been a rough day, kid.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Just…there’s a whole lot of crap to deal with, and I just…” He waves a hand in the air. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
Peter nodded, all too forgiving. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” He fiddled with his pencil, twirling it with his fingers. “Do you want me to walk you through it?”
Tony eyed Peter suspiciously. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you.”
Peter shrugged, a sheepish look on his face. “I don’t know, I just…I felt like you might need a distraction, that’s all.”
Tony squinted again at Peter’s paper, this time faintly making out pencil marks that Peter hadn’t quite successfully erased. He smiled. “You know, kid, that might be exactly what I need.”
Peter smiled and began explaining. “Okay, so first you need to…”
---
An hour later, Peter was working through one of Tony’s old equations while Tony tinkered on modifications for Peter’s “Iron-spider” suit. They worked in silence, the only sounds being that of rustling pages and the clink of metal against metal.
Peter reached a stopping point, pausing to check his watch. Tony nonchalantly cast a glance at the broken face and the strap that Peter had taped together. He would need to get him a new one, he reminded himself.
Peter stretched and stood, shutting his book and shoving his work into his bag. “I’ve gotta go now, Mr. Stark. It’s getting late.” He slung his backpack onto his shoulder. “And thanks for letting me work here.”
Tony looked up, watching as the teenager awkwardly fiddled with the straps of his backpack. He smiled, but he was pretty sure it looked pained. “No problem, kid.”
Peter hesitated a moment longer before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Tony.
Tony was uncertain what to do with his hands. Ultimately, he hugged Peter back.
“It’s not a hug, Mr. Stark, I was just grabbing my jacket.”
Tony laughed, stepping back and smiling at Peter. “Alright, kid.”
Peter was grinning as he bounded out of the lab. “Have a good evening, Mr. Stark!” he called over his shoulder.
Tony was still smiling as he returned to his lab table. He was about to continue tinkering, but he paused, deciding instead to write up more challenging problems for Peter to work on later.
After all, the kid was a genius.
Tony sat down, picking up a pencil and writing several problems on a piece of paper. Some he remembered from college, others he came up with himself, and still others he asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to scour the internet for.
And, maybe, it became his new way of escape.
ii.
Something was up.
Tony was like a bloodhound when it came to teenage angst from the other side of the country.
Well.
Only as long as it concerned Peter Parker.
But this time, Tony was 93% certain that something was up with Peter.
And when Peter walked into the compound with all of his usual happiness gone from his face and possessing a tiredness that no teenager should, Tony knew for a fact that something was wrong.
“What’s up, kid?”
Peter looked at Tony, possibly realizing for the first time where he was. “Oh, uh, it’s…it’s nothing.” He shrugged and bit his lip. “I’m-I’m just going to put this up in my room, okay?”
Tony nodded, carefully watching the kid.
What.
The hell.
Had happened?
Peter trudged slowly to his room, and for the first time, his shoulders sagged, his feet scuffed the floor, and Tony could feel the brokenness in him.
Tony sighed softly, changing his course to the kitchen. Normally, he would recommend an alcoholic drink to someone suffering some sort of emotional pain, but Peter was a minor. That tended to put a damper on those kinds of plans.
Tony rummaged through a couple of cabinets, finally finding what he was looking for. After a few minutes, he made his way to Peter’s room where he found Peter with his knees pulled up to his chest.
And that’s when Tony remembered that Peter Parker was just a boy.
It was a fact that was easy to forget because Peter was also Spider-man. A superhero. An almost invincible force.
But, ultimately, he was still just a child.
Tony sighed again, and Peter looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed and tears threatened to spill over. He pulled his knees in tighter, and Tony was struck by how small Peter looked.
Tony stepped in the room and took a seat beside Peter, setting the mug of hot chocolate on the floor beside him. “Shoot,” he said.
Peter just shook his head.
“You know, kid, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Peter didn’t respond.
Tony settled back against Peter’s bed, studying the room for lack of something better to do. The last time he saw it, the room was lifeless and sterile. Now, it seemed warmer. Full of life.
The walls were painted a light olive, as per Peter’s request. A Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back poster hung over his desk, and Tony smiled softly at one of his earliest memories of Peter. There was a bookshelf by the wall, packed tightly with almost every book Peter had ever enjoyed. Tony squinted, realizing the books were arranged alphabetically by author last name. He knew another bookshelf sat by Peter’s bed, where he had put study guides, including the official SAT and ACT prep books. A poster of the U.S.S. Enterprise hung over Peter’s bed.
It was a nice room, Tony decided. Minus the fact that Peter had chosen both Star Wars and Star Trek.
The silence was killing him. If it had been anyone else, maybe Tony wouldn’t have felt so uneasy. But this was Peter. Tony could never get the kid to shut up.
“Peter, what’s wrong?” Tony was surprised at how soft his voice was.
He sniffled. “Nothing.”
“It’s something.”
“It’s not important.”
Could he get anywhere with this kid? “Try me.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Stark.”
“Peter.” Tony’s voice was firm, and Peter finally looked to him, red-rimmed eyes and all.
Peter opened his mouth, likely in an effort to redirect Tony again. But instead of brushing off his rough day, he said instead, “One of the kids at school keeps making fun of me.”
Tony had no idea what he’d been expecting to hear, but it was not that.
Peter shrugged and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “It’s not really a big deal; I’m sorry that I bothered you with it, Mr. Stark.”
Tony shook his head. “Kid,” he breathed out, reaching out to rest a hand on Peter’s shoulder. Before Peter could interrupt, Tony spoke. “What is he doing to you?”
Peter shook his head so quickly Tony wondered if it would come flying off. “N-no, Mr. Stark, he’s not hurting me –”
“Emotional pain is still pain, Pete.”
Peter looked down, picking at his jeans. “I guess.”
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Peter ventured to speak again. “He’s not, like…beating me up or anything. He just makes fun of me. For being shy, I guess. Or smarter than him, or being a sci-fi geek, or liking MJ, or being friends with Ned.”
Tony pursed his lips, nodding slowly. “So for being you?”
Peter shrugged. “I guess.”
Tony sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. “That’s bullying, you know.”
Peter nodded faintly. “Yeah,” he said quietly.
“Listen kid,” Tony said, staring straight ahead at the Star Wars poster. “I have worked with bad people and decent people and good people. I used to be personal friends with Captain America – who, according to most of the world, is the most moral man on the planet. And yet none of them are as good of a person as you are, Peter.”
Peter’s eyes were still rimmed with red.
Damn, he was really bad at comforting kids, wasn’t he?
But he continued. “Your quirks make you the person that you are. To hell with a kid who is so insecure about himself that he needs to take it out on you; that kid is not worth your thoughts.”
“But I see him every–”
“So what? You see him every day, and you might see him every class. That doesn’t mean you have to let him pick on you like this. Find a teacher you trust and tell them about this.” He nudged Peter with his shoulder. “I mean, I would go to the school and talk to that kid myself, but that would bring you some unwanted and excessive attention.”
Peter smiled against his will. “Yeah,” he said softly, some of his usual happiness returning to his eyes. “It would.”
“Glad we established that,” Tony said. “No, but seriously, tell someone. Please. Life will become hell if you internalize all the crap you go through. Speaking from experience here.”
Peter nodded and leaned forward, hugging Tony.
This time, Tony was less uncertain and gave Peter a brief squeeze.
“That wasn’t a hug, Mr. Stark, I was just grabbing that mug of hot chocolate.”
Tony laughed out loud.
Peter was smiling again.
That was good.
Hell, that was the best thing Tony had ever seen. He may not have been Peter’s father, but he still wanted to offer Peter the world.
And if cheering Peter up on a bad day was the best he could do, then damn straight he would do it.
Maybe it was selfish of him, but whenever Peter was happy and babbling and bouncing off the walls, Tony’s problems disappeared for a little while.
And that was also a good thing.
iii.
Tony couldn’t sleep.
To be fair, that was normal for him. Because while he slept, he couldn’t escape from the nightmares:
- Pepper throwing her engagement ring in his face.
- Happy lying bloodied and bruised in a hospital bed.
- Rhodey free-falling in the air without so much as a parachute to help him.
- Bucky choking his mother to death.
- Steve hovering over him, about to bring the shield crashing down on him.
- The wormhole.
- Peter lying dead on the ground because, dammit, he just couldn’t get there in time.
Tony shuddered as he opened the doors to the lab. He wasn’t going to think about it, he wasn’t going to think about it, he wasn’t going to –
“Peter’s still fifteen,” he said to the empty room.
He was still fifteen, and Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen to the kid.
He wanted to protect him, wanted to be sure that nothing would hurt him.
But the thing was: no matter how many suits he built, no matter how many features he installed, no matter how reinforced Peter’s suit was, no matter what Tony did, there would never be a guarantee that Peter would walk away alive.
And that fear, that paralyzing realization, kept Tony awake at night.
He surveyed the lab. Papers were scattered precariously across the lab table, and jarringly, Tony remembered that some of them were Peter’s homework assignments; because, after all, Peter was still just a kid.
He shook his head slightly, shifting his attention from the lab table to blueprints of new installments for his and Rhodey’s suits. He glanced towards the area of the lab designated for Peter’s use (though he really only used it to make his web fluid). Scraps of metal littered a far corner of the room, and Tony stood in the entryway, trying to determine what he was doing here in the first place.
Occasionally, he wished he was like Happy, who could get lost for days in a television series. Other times, he watched Natasha or Steve, who could disappear into a book, and only when they finished did they look up and realize that the sun had gone down. Still other times, he envied Peter, who navigated teenage life awkwardly as he tried to keep up with homework and hobbies and the newest Star Wars movies.
But he wasn’t any of them.
He was Tony, and the only place he could retreat to was the dark recesses of his mind, where he teetered on the edge of self-destruction and insanity.
He sighed in defeat as he pulled up his chair and sat, looking around the darkness that was broken by only the occasional bulb.
The emptiness was killing him.
The lab was empty without Peter practically bouncing off the walls, a smile on his face as he spoke a mile a minute. His bed was empty without the warmth of Pepper beside him, but it was okay. He was learning to live life without her, and that was good. The entire compound was empty, desperately missing the companionship of the Rogue Avengers.
Tony picked at the grime underneath his fingernails.
“Mr. Stark?”
Tony looked to the doorway where Peter stood, attempting to blink the sleep from his eyes. And, again, Tony was reminded that Peter was a kid. He looked small and very young, innocent in a world that was prepared to rip that from him.
Peter wore a Star Trek t-shirt that was way too big for him, Star Wars pajama pants (seriously, that kid needed to just choose one), and Iron Man fuzzy socks.
Tony smirked. “Nice socks, kid.”
Peter blinked in confusion before he looked down. “Oh.”
Tony reached out and pulled up another chair, patting the cushion. Peter shuffled to Tony’s side and took a seat.
“You doing okay, Mr. Stark?”
Of course he wasn’t okay. He didn’t want to tell Peter that, but that was the truth. He was never okay.
Before he could say that he was fine, Peter spoke again. “And if I’m not allowed to lie and tell you I’m fine when I’m not, then you’re not allowed to do that either.”
Tony blinked, surprised at how firm Peter sounded. “Um…” He sighed and scratched his beard. “No, kid. I’m not okay.”
Peter nodded, settling back against the chair. “What’s wrong?”
Tony shook his head, unconsciously leaning away from Peter. “I’m not going to burden you with that.”
Peter looked at him, eyebrows drawn together. “You always make me tell you what’s wrong.”
He ran his tongue over his top teeth. “That’s different.”
“How is that different?”
“You’re a kid.”
“And you’re an adult who has internalized too much shit already.”
Tony looked sharply at him, and Peter pressed his lips together. “Language,” Tony said half-heartedly, running his thumb over the back of his hand.
Peter quirked an eyebrow. “If you get to curse, Mr. Stark, then so do I.”.
“No, you don’t.”
Peter crossed his arms. “Yes, I do.”
Tony shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, “you don’t.”
“Yes –”
“No, you don’t!”
Peter recoiled from Tony’s harsh tone. Tony sighed heavily and hung his head.
He just couldn’t do anything right.
“Sorry ‘bout that, kid.”
“What is it, Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was pleading, and it broke Tony’s heart.
Tony opened his mouth to answer, but no words came to him. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.
Peter nodded and pulled his knees to his chest. “Okay.” He rested his chin on his kneecaps. “That’s alright. It’ll be alright.”
Tony sighed heavily. “The world just doesn’t work like that, kid.”
Peter nodded again. “Sure, it does. You just gotta let it.”
Tony scoffed. Sure, just like the world would “fix” his broken engagement, or his best friend’s paralysis, or his watching his mother’s murder as the guilty party stood next to him. “I don’t think so, kid.” He let out a bitter laugh. “No, the world is a whole lot crueler than that.”
Peter pursed his lips and considered for a moment. “Maybe. Maybe the world won’t change or repair what’s happened to you, but you gotta let it repair you.” He looked to Tony, eyes wide and trusting and childlike. “You gotta let people in, Tony.”
Tony.
Not Mr. Stark.
Tony.
He thought for a moment. “You know, Peter,” he said softly, “maybe you’re right.”
They sat in silence. Peter began nodding off, and Tony took to watching the lab doors just in case some imminent threat came to hurt his kid.
Wait, no.
Peter was not his kid.
Peter’s head bobbed, and he snapped awake, sparing a glance at his new watch. “I’m going back to bed now, Mr. Stark.”
Tony smiled softly, standing with Peter. “Good. It’s past your bedtime.”
Peter stuck his tongue out at him, and Tony laughed.
Somehow, he knew it was coming.
The hug.
The following joke.
And the crushing disappointment that Peter didn’t truly mean it.
Peter hugged Tony, and Tony gave him a brief but firm squeeze.
“It’s not a hug, Mr. Stark, I was just opening the door.”
Tony smiled, finally realizing how tired he was. He jerked his head towards Peter’s room. “Get to bed, kid.”
Peter nodded, mockingly saluting him. “Yes, sir.”
As he stood there alone, Tony wondered how Peter had found him worth loving.
Tony didn’t even think that himself.
iv.
Peter sucked at hiding things. Especially secrets.
Tony often wondered how he’d managed to hide the fact that he was Spider-man from so many people and for so long, considering how terrible he was when it came to keeping quiet.
Granted, May now knew about Peter’s being Spider-man (Tony’s ears were still ringing from that phone call, and he occasionally had nightmares about that talk [no, he didn’t, but he could 100% understand how he could have nightmares over that conversation]), and another one of Peter’s friends had found out rather quickly.
He was just surprised that only three people in Peter’s immediate circle knew about it, versus…well, the entire school and most of Queens.
Tony sighed, leaning over the back of the couch and passing a yellow bowl of chocolate ice cream to the kid. Peter looked up and took the bowl.
“What’s up, kid?” Tony asked, walking to the chair that faced Peter, a bowl of Jamoca Almond Fudge in his hands.
Peter looked at him innocently. “Wh-what are you talking about?” He took his spoon and scooped out some ice cream.
“I should probably elaborate,” Tony said, settling back into the chair. “You have a crush on someone. My question is: who do you have heart eyes for, kid?”
Peter’s eyes widened, and he spluttered, a mouthful of cold ice cream in his mouth.
Tony had to put his spoon down, he was laughing so hard.
Peter swallowed. “I-I don’t have a crush on anyone, Mr. Stark,” he said, his voice rising an octave higher than normal.
“Uh-huh.”
“Mr. Stark!”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me, kid. Remember: you suck at it.”
An audible grumbling could be heard from Peter as he finished his ice cream. “Well, there’s this girl –”
“I figured.”
Peter huffed. “Mr. Stark!”
“Sorry, sorry, my bad, keep going.” Tony watched amusedly as Peter narrowed his eyes at him.
“And, like, she’s my friend.”
“All good things, all good things.”
Peter rolled his eyes, putting the spoon back in the bowl now that he was finished with his ice cream. “A-and, she’s really smart and witty and tall and pretty and her hair’s curly and honestly, Mr. Stark, she kinda scares me sometimes –”
Tony laughed, lifting the bowl of ice cream to cover his face. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Peter’s voice pitched an octave even higher than before, and that only made Tony laugh harder. Peter cleared his throat and tried again. “What, Mr. Stark?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
Peter leaned forward, placing his bowl on the coffee table. “You’re lying.”
Tony let himself laugh for a moment longer before looking at Peter again. “You’ll know soon enough.”
“Mr. Stark!”
Tony lifted his index finger and pointed it at Peter. “How many times do I need to tell you? It’s Tony.”
“I forget, Mr. Stark.”
If his hands were free, he would bury himself under them. Actually, when he thought about it, he was seriously considering setting down his dessert just to groan in feigned exasperation.
“Listen, kid,” Tony said, shifting so that he was sitting on his left foot. “I’m not exactly the world’s leading expert on romance, especially when it comes to healthy relationships. But I’m going to try and give you some advice.”
Peter eyed him warily. “I’m not really sure that’s the best course of ac–”
“Number one.”
“–tion,” Peter finished.
Tony shot him a look, and Peter clamped his mouth shut. “Number one,” he repeated. “Talk about something that interests her. She likes books? Ask her about her favorite author. A bookworm can’t choose a favorite book, but nine times out of ten they can choose a favorite author, so just go with that. Talk to her about her favorite class and discuss theories for your science class or your English class.”
Peter nodded along slowly. “Makes sense.”
“Exactly. I’m a genius. Of course I’m right.”
Peter rolled his eyes, and Tony pointed his index finger at him. “Don’t do that. They’ll stick.”
“Whoopidi-do.”
“Sarcasm is forbidden in this establishment, kid. Number two,” he added before Peter could throw in a wise crack. “Get her something for her birthday. And please tell me you know when that is.”
Peter nodded.
“Perfect. So, based on your description of her, I get the feeling that she doesn’t like grand gestures or the ‘go big or go home’ motto. Get her a new bookmark, her favorite pens, notebooks, or something. Something small, but something she likes and something she could never have enough of.”
Peter stared at him intently, absorbing every word.
“Three: invest in her. Take time to get to know her. What does she do when she’s stressed out, how does she color code her notes, does she prefer to use pens or pencils? Stuff like that. They’re fun little tidbits, and, well, if she doesn’t like you like you like her, you’ll have all this friend knowledge that all friends should know.
“Four: play games with her. And before your innocent little brain short-circuits, I mean play games like Monopoly and Battleship and Scrabble. Board games. Fun games. She’ll love you for it, trust me. I’ve never tried it, but it’s foolproof.”
Peter laughed.
“Fifth, and most important: just let it happen. If it happens, it happens, and that’s good. If it doesn’t happen, then it wasn’t meant to be, and that’s fine, Peter.”
Peter nodded, settling back against the leather couch. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”
Tony flashed him a thumbs-up, immediately hurrying to finish his ice cream before it could melt. When he finished, he scraped the bottom of the bowl, trying to capture little drops of the dessert. Without looking up, he said, “It’s that MJ girl, right? Michelle, is that her name?”
He didn’t need to look up to know Peter was staring at him incredulously. “How did you know that?”
“You have one female friend, kid.”
“You’re not fair.”
“Tough titties.”
Peter made a face. “Gross.”
Tony looked up at this, laughing at Peter’s face. “That grosses you out? Oh my God, that’s hilarious.” Tony looked down, tilting his bowl to catch the last of his ice cream. “But don’t tell Steve I said that, or he might actually kill me. Or give me one of those PSA videos you guys need to watch in school over cussing. But I’ll try not to use that phrase again, kid.”
“Thank God.”
Silence settled between them, and Tony eyed Peter’s science textbook that was currently lying on his coffee table. Without bothering to look inside, he knew that Peter was too smart for that material.
“Mr. Stark?”
He looked up quickly, and Peter avoided eye contact. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
He furrowed his brow. “What is it, kid?”
Peter shrugged, still not meeting Tony’s eyes. “It’s not important.”
Tony sighed heavily. “Just ask me, kid.”
Peter swallowed. “Um, it’s just…well, I don’t mean to…to step on anyone’s toes, Mr. Stark, I was just wondering –”
“Just give it to me straight.”
Peter sighed, playing with his hands. “What happened between you and Pepper?” he said in one breath.
Oh.
He was not expecting that.
There were several reasons, but ultimately it came down to Rhodey sitting him down and informing him that his relationship with Pepper was unhealthy.
He must have been silent for too long because he heard Peter apologizing profusely.
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds, and really, it’s none of my business, and I’m so sorry if I offended you, please, please forgive me –”
Tony held up a hand and Peter immediately shut up. “It’s fine, kid,” he said, trying to offer him a smile. Judging by Peter’s sad smile, he hadn’t done too great of a job. “I just don’t know what to tell you.”
Peter shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest. “That’s alright. It’s not like it’s my business or anything.”
“No, it’s fine.” He braced his hands on the armrests so he could get his left foot out from under him. “It was just a lot of things. A lot of arguments that were more like fights, one of us was always putting more into the relationship than the other was, but ultimately, it was just unhealthy.”
Peter pursed his lips, nodding slowly. “You gave her everything, didn’t you?”
Tony blinked. “What?”
“I mean,” Peter said, “you put your all into that relationship, but she didn’t give back what you put in. Is that what happened?”
Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, kid.”
Peter nodded again, his eyes trained on his textbook. Tony knew what question was running through his mind, and he knew that Peter wouldn’t ever dream of asking it.
He sighed. “All of the Avengers – rogue or not – have some form of PTSD. Cap was a soldier in World War 2, Natasha…something happened to Natasha before she became a SHIELD agent, Bruce destroyed cities, the list just goes on. After New York, something happened.” At Peter’s look of concern, he decided to elaborate. “I couldn’t sleep, any mention of the wormhole or the city sent me into a panic attack, and it was a whole mess. It got better for a little while, but ultimately, it just got worse.”
Peter slowly lowered his legs back to the floor.
“It was a problem. A big problem. It wasn’t healthy for her to be in a relationship with me, and vice versa.”
“Who ended it?” Peter’s voice was so quiet Tony was certain that he’d imagined it.
Tony blinked, seeing the image of Pepper throwing the ring in his face and pounding his shoulders with her fists.
“It was mutual,” he lied.
“Oh.”
Tony nodded and checked his watch. “It’s time for you to head home, bud. I don’t want your aunt to worry.” He stood, Peter immediately following suit. When Peter reached for his bowl, Tony waved his hand. “I can take care of those, don’t worry about it.”
Peter nodded, reaching instead for his textbook and backpack. Tony walked around the coffee table to face Peter.
Peter hesitated for a moment before he took a step forward, wrapping his arms around Tony and squeezing gently. Tony smiled softly and returned the hug.
“It’s not a hug, Mr. Stark, I was just gonna grab that bowl for ya.” Even still, Peter held on a moment longer before stepping away. As if to prove his point, he quickly reached for the yellow dish and passed it to Tony. “Here.”
Tony laughed, taking it from Peter. “Thanks, kid. And good luck with that girl.”
Peter winked at him. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” With that, he bounded out of Tony’s penthouse.
Tony looked around the emptiness of the room. It was nicely kept and most of the stuff was his: Picasso’s paintings, Hawking’s books, small sculptures, and famous pictures stationed throughout the entirety of the penthouse. It had his touch, but that alone made it feel empty.
But in the corner, Peter had left one of his jackets because “it’s always cold here, Mr. Stark.” A Star Wars blanket was folded on the couch, Doctor Who and Star Wars videos were piled on the floor close to the TV, and a half-finished LEGO set sat on the counter.
Tony smiled to himself. The additions to his place, these cheap objects, made it homey.
That nerdy kid was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Tony picked up the ice cream bowls and walked to the sink. When he passed the Lego set, he made a mental note to buy Peter another one when he was finished.
And maybe he could help.
v.
Peter was quieter than usual.
Which, to be fair, could mean a number of things.
Tony carefully watched him as he tinkered in the lab. Peter’s lips were pressed together, his movements were slow and deliberate, there was a heaviness in his shoulders, and the bags under his eyes were the size of Cleveland.
Tony sighed and turned in his chair. Peter glanced at him before returning to his work. The silence was unnerving.
“So, Pete…” Tony drawled, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans, “have you read any good books lately?”
Peter shrugged. “Not really.”
Alrightie then.
He licked his lips and tried a different approach. “You want some pizza, kid?”
Peter shrugged again. “I don’t care.”
Tony rolled his eyes and picked up a candy wrapper, crumpling it in his hands. “Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Peter shook his head and tightened a screw in Tony’s armor. “I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t really feel like talking about it.”
Tony tossed the candy wrapper into the trash can. “It might help.”
“I don’t –”
Tony raised a hand. “I heard you the first time, kid. But something tells me that you do want to talk about it, and you don’t want to keep it to yourself anymore.”
Peter sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m just tired, Mr. Stark.”
“Why?”
Peter blinked slowly, gently setting the screwdriver down on the table. “I’m never going to see my Uncle Ben again.”
Oh.
It was that type of situation.
Tony sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. “Listen, kid,” he said, scratching his right ear, “it sucks.” He gestured with his right hand. “Dealing with this, I mean.”
Peter turned around and walked towards Tony. He pulled up an extra chair and sat down.
Now that Peter was in front of him, he couldn’t make eye contact. “It’s just…” he ran a hand through his hair. “It hurts like hell. But over time, it gets better. That guilt…it’s less powerful and it goes away. The grief never leaves, but as time goes on, that gaping hole in your heart that hurts with each breath becomes smaller until you don’t notice it as often.”
Peter nodded and wiped away a few stray tears from his cheeks.
“Life sucks, kid. But, you know…you just need to find people who make it suck less.”
Peter considered his words.
The silence returned, and it made Tony jumpy. He slapped his palms against his knees. “Well! That was a nice little pow-wow and emotional therapy session, now let’s just agree to never do that again.”
Peter smiled softly and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Tony.
Tony smiled and rubbed Peter’s back, giving him a squeeze.
“That’s not a hug, Mr. Stark,” Peter muffled into Tony’s shirt. “I was just grabbing a Hershey bar.” He pulled away, triumphantly holding a chocolate bar in his hand.
Tony held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, kiddo. Just remember what I said, okay?”
Peter nodded, peeling back the wrapper and taking a bite. “I will.”
+i.
He was going to throw up.
That honestly was the best-case scenario.
He was going to throw up in his suit and then he’d be forced to breathe in his own vomit until the war was won.
This fucking sucked.
Like, okay, he wasn’t exactly sure what had gone down, but he was 90% sure that they had all just died and been resurrected.
Which, since Jesus, hadn’t really happened.
Wait, wait, wait.
Tony fired up his repulsors, hovering above the ground, trying to get a good vantage point.
Where the hell was Peter?
“Hey, Mr. Stark!”
Oh, thank God.
So as far as he could tell, there was only one way to defeat the giant eggplant who was currently trying to destroy the universe.
“We need to get that gauntlet,” he spoke into the comm. “By whatever means necessary. Except for you, kid. You’ve had enough dying for the day.”
“But Mr. Stark –”
“No buts, kid. You’re on civilian duty.” He neglected to add the ones that are left, anyways. He knew Peter knew.
Tony could hear some grumbling into the comm, but Peter didn’t complain beyond that. He shot a web to the nearest building, landing gracefully on his feet.
When he was sure he was safe, Tony turned his attention back to the fight. “Nat and Rogers, see what you can do. Clint, fire up the guy with your advanced arrows. Guardians – I hate to risk it, but we’re gonna need you to get as close to Thanos as you can. Try and hit him where it hurts. Barnes, T’Challa, I need you to kick some ass out there. Strange, Wanda, and Vision, I want you to do your crazy and unexplained science to see what you can do.”
“It’s magic, Tony,” Strange mumbled.
“No,” Tony insisted, “it’s just unexplained science.”
“Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”
Tony sighed. “Sam, Rhodes – give him hell. And Hulk?” He paused as the giant green rage monster turned to him. “Smash.”
Logically, there had to be some way to get that gauntlet off of Thanos. Whether that meant many or all of their deaths or if it only meant a few or even if it meant none, it was going to be a hard brawl.
Tony flew alongside Rhodey and Sam, watching carefully as Steve and Natasha drew Thanos’s attention elsewhere. Clint aimed his arrows where the gauntlet met the thick and purple arm. Barnes and T’Challa moved quickly, taking down the alien’s minions, making sure they had the other’s back. The Guardians worked as a team to try and force Thanos to his knees (Tony saw how hard Gamora fought, and he was glad that she was on their side). Strange and Wanda pulled the gauntlet off with – okay, fine, it was magic. Wanda flung it to the side, throwing up a barrier as soon as she saw Thanos turn.
Now or fucking never.
Tony dove toward the ground, keeping his eyes on that gold plate that had all the potential to destroy the world.
“Mr. Stark!”
Tony flinched inside his suit, trying desperately to drown out the desperation in Peter’s voice.
“Mr. Stark, no, that could kill you!”
“Perfect,” he muttered, completely forgetting that Peter had enhanced hearing.
“Mr. Stark, don’t do it!”
Five feet from the ground, Tony opened his suit, tucking himself into a ball as he plummeted towards the concrete. He rolled into the fall, hissing through his teeth.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he said, picking up the gauntlet and pulling it onto his left hand.
A rush of power flowed through his veins, but he turned his attention to Thanos. “Wanda, now!” he shouted.
Miraculously, she heard him and pulled down the barrier. The Avengers dove to the side as Tony raised his hand.
“Mr. Stark, that’s going to kill you!” He could hear the scratch in Peter’s voice, and he forced himself to ignore the fear that was radiating through the pavement.
“Rhodes, get Peter to safety!”
Rhodey changed course, just managing to intersect paths with the teenager and grab him by the arm. Tony watched as Peter struggled against War Machine, but Rhodey kept his grip, hauling the boy to a building that was at least four blocks away.
“Okay,” Tony murmured, trying to figure out the gauntlet. “This probably does something, and this probably does another something.” He saw a gold piece that stuck out a little bit, and he shrugged. “Nothing left to lose,” he said as he turned the dial.
A stream of blue light practically erupted from the gauntlet, and Tony cursed, trying to aim it at Thanos.
Fortunately, it worked.
Ish.
Tony felt himself being drained of all energy, and his insides twisted and burned. He didn’t know what was keeping him from vomiting, but he was grateful that something was.
He looked up, squinting against the brightness. “I need to destroy this thing, I need to destroy this, I need to destroy it.” He sucked in a breath and brought his other fist crashing down on the gauntlet.
“MR. STARK!”
A wave of energy burst from Tony’s wrist, obliterating everything in its path. Tony was knocked flat against the pavement, and he heard a sharp ringing in his ear.
He grunted, rolling to his side to survey the damage. Buildings were destroyed. Rubble littered the ground. Some of the Avengers groaned. The gauntlet was destroyed, and so were the infinity stones.
“Shit.”
A figure rose, and Tony could barely make it out, but what he saw was enough.
Thanos was still alive.
“Shit,” he said again, forcing himself to his feet. He called one of his iron arms to him and blasted the almost-human form.
He was met with a growl.
Well.
It was about to go down.
He walked hurriedly in Thanos’s direction and met him halfway.
Thanos brought his arm down, but Tony raised his protected arm. He growled and punched Tony’s chest, and Tony bit back a groan.
“Fuck,” he said. He stepped back enough to fire at Thanos. It forced the monster to his knees, but even Tony knew that wouldn’t be enough.
Thanos picked up a piece of glass and hurled it at Tony. He dove towards the pavement, but the glass cut across his cheek.
“Maybe,” Thanos said, rising to his feet, “when I’m done with you, I’ll go and find that boy. Peter, is it? And I’ll kill him, slowly and painfully, but not before he watches you die.”
Tony spit on the ground. “You sick son of a bitch.”
“Or maybe,” Thanos wiped his nose, “I’ll make you watch as I kill him.”
Tony hurled himself at Thanos, hoping to God to kill him.
Thanos swung his fist, knocking Tony into the corner of a building that was still standing.
There was a sickening crunch, and Tony fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
He couldn’t hear Peter’s screams.
---
“Tony? Tony?”
He heard a chorus of voices, but they sounded far away and unreal, almost like he was dreaming underwater.
“Tony?”
His movements were dull and sluggish.
“Mr. Stark?”
Peter?
Tony groaned and opened his eyes with a little difficulty. His feet seemed so far away from him, but he managed to stand, searching the crowd for the teenager.
Rhodey was holding Peter by the shoulders, and Peter looked so small and so young. “Tony?” he said, his eyes wide and full of concern.
Tony reached out to steady himself on the wall. “Kid,” he grunted out.
Peter pulled away from Rhodey’s grasp, throwing himself into Tony’s arms. He just barely managed to catch him before falling back towards the ground.
And the cries coming from Peter broke Tony’s heart.
“It’s okay, kid,” he said, holding Peter tightly. “I’m okay, it’s okay.”
Peter clung to Tony, whimpering into his shirt.
“I’m alright, son, I’m alright.” He felt tired and overwhelmed.
Peter tightened his grip around his neck. Tony was bleeding and bruised, God only knew how many broken bones he was currently nursing, and he had a headache the size of California, but none of that mattered. Peter was safe. Peter was going to be okay.
“You’re alright,” Tony breathed out, believing the words now that they had been spoken. “You’re safe, you’re alright.”
Peter nodded against his neck.
“I’m alright, kid.”
Peter let out a sob, and Tony instinctively reached up to cradle the boy’s head in his hand.
“You saved the world, Pete,” he whispered. “You saved the world, and you lived to tell the tale.”
Peter sniffled. He could feel Peter’s shoulders heaving, and he could feel his shirt becoming wetter and wetter from tears with each passing second.
“I thought you died.” Peter’s voice was muffled by Tony’s shirt.
“I’m fine, kiddo, I’m fine.”
When Peter’s cries subsided, Tony knew, finally, that Peter believed him.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was as small as he looked, and it broke Tony’s heart.
“Yeah, kid?”
“Thank you.”
Tony smiled in spite of himself. “Sure thing, kid.”
Peter finally crawled away from the safety of Tony’s embrace and helped him stand. Rhodey rushed forward, wrapping Tony’s arm around his shoulders and Peter took Tony’s other side.
The sun was rising, and as Tony stumbled along, he couldn’t help but marvel at it.