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Peter woke suddenly, gasping for air. He sat up quickly, looking around the room to try and figure out what had caused him to wake. Something felt... off. But not in a danger way since his Spidey-Sense wasn’t going off. But something wasn’t... quite right.
He jumped when he heard it again. It was faint, and anyone without super hearing like him would not be able to hear it. The faint thuds and sounds of breaking glass coming from the floor below him.
Tony’s workshop.
He jumped out of bed, grabbing his webshooters from his dresser as he tore out of the room. His heart was pounding in his chest as he ran into the elevator.
“FRI, workshop,” he gasped as the doors shut behind him. FRIDAY said nothing, simply sending the elevator down the shaft.
In no time at all the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
Peter stepped out into... absolute chaos.
Where there had once been clear, pristine glass walls surrounding the workshop there was only empty metal frames, the glass shattered and broken on the floor. Multiple workbenches were pushed over, the tools they once held scattered across the floor. The couch in the corner was also knocked back, cushioning coming out of a ripped edge. DUM-E and U were hovering over some kind of shaking mass in the corner.
A mass that was currently clinging to his old Spidey suit.
He stepped gingerly over the broken glass, careful not to step on any more of the smaller shards and cut his bare feet. He kicked tools out of his way, and shoved one particular stubborn (and particularly broken) workbench out of the way. DUM-E looked up at his approach and beeped softly at him, shaking his claw back and forth slowly between him and Tony.
Tony was curled up in the corner, back against the wall with his head pressed against his fists, his hands clutching Peter’s suit. He seemed to be shaking slightly.
Peter walked forward slowly and knelt down in front of the man. He’d never seen Tony like this before.
“Tony?”
Tony jerked at the voice, pressing further back and mumbling something to himself. He shook his hand and clenched his fists even tighter.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter said, softly, reaching his hand out slowly. He gently laid his hand on Tony’s knee.
Tony lifted his head from him hands then and looked at Peter with wide, anguished eyes. His eyes were red and puffy and there were dark circles under his eyes. His knuckles were red, broken, and bleeding sluggishly, small shards of glass sticking in them as though Tony had punched through the glass walls with his bare hands.
He couldn’t smell alcohol on his breath, so at least he hadn’t started drinking again.
“Tony, what—“ Peter whispered, “what happened? Are you alright, are you hur—“
“You died.”
Peter let out a breath at the words, his heart dropping into his stomach. He shut his eyes and squeezed the hand on Tony’s knee a little tighter.
It had been a month since Peter and the others had been saved from the soul stone, and to Peter, the whole thing had felt a little anticlimactic. He’d been so afraid to die, to fade away and disintegrate into nothing on Titan like the others had. Yet, after he’d gone it felt like he’d just barely disappeared before suddenly he was back, standing on the streets of New York, surrounded by others who had also returned.
He remembered turning and seeing Captain America hugging Bucky Barnes. He remembered Clint Barton hugging his daughter and son, his wife crying as she held a four year old boy tightly in her arms. He remembered seeing… a talking raccoon, jumping onto what appeared to be a walking and talking tree, surrounded by the other Guardians who had also returned.
He remembered someone shouting his name and barely having time to turn around before Aunt May was jumping into Peter’s arms, holding him close and sobbing into his shoulder. He remembered looking over her to the man behind her, signature armor in place, on his knees clutching the Infinity Gauntlet. He remembered running over to Tony, and he remembered Tony reaching up and dragging him down, him and Aunt May - because she refused to let go - and gathering them both into his arms as they both shook and cried.
Peter would learn later that what had felt like only seconds for him had actually been months for Tony and May. Peter and half of the universe had been trapped in the soul stone for over a year before the remaining Avengers with the help of Nebula and Captain Marvel were able to find Thanos, steal the gauntlet and destroy him before bringing half the universe back. He learned that Tony had worked endlessly, tirelessly for months to get Peter back, hardly stopping for breaks and putting his whole life on hold. His business, his relationship, his wedding. None of that had mattered to Tony unless he stopped Thanos and got Peter back. He learned that after Nebula stoke the gauntlet, it had been Tony who used it to deliver the killing blow, and his had been Tony who used it to bring back everyone who’d been lost throughout the Galaxy.
It had been days before Tony or May had let him out of their sight. They had gone back to the Tower, where apparently May had been staying since Tony returned to earth and gave her the news, wanting to help in any way she could and wanting to be nearby so she could be in the loop. They’d continued staying at the Tower with Tony and Pepper and the other Avengers as well ever since. No one seemed to be in any hurry to leave, not wanting to leave all the people they had finally gotten back, not trusting that if they left it wouldn’t turn out to all be a dream. At least with everyone in the Tower, if the dark thoughts became too much, if the truth started to feel too good to be true, someone you loved was around to remind you it was true, that you weren’t dreaming, that everyone really had been saved. Hell, over a month later and Peter had only just started sleeping in a room by himself without May sleeping in a cot right next to him, or the Iron Man armor standing sentry outside their door.
To him and everyone else in that stone the whole event had seemed like seconds. But to everyone else… to Tony and May and everyone else left behind, they had been dead for over a year. Peter had been dead for over a year. He had lost an entire year in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t know how to feel. He could only imagine what May and Tony must have felt like that whole time. He almost didn’t want to.
He opened his eyes to see Tony still staring at him with those wide, unblinking eyes, as though he was afraid to even blink for fear that Peter would disappear again.
“Tony…” Peter said softly, gently prying the suit from his hands, “it’s okay. I’m here, everyone came back. You just had a bad drea--”
“You died,” Tony said again, voice breaking, “and it was my fault.”
“ No ,” Peter rushed to deny gently, but firmly. “No, Tony. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could’ve done.
“If Strange hadn’t given the stone to save me—“
“That was his choice to make, Mr. Stark, that was hardly your fault.”
“If he had just let me die instead of—“
“If he had just let you die,” Peter said firmly, raising his voice slightly to be heard over Tony, “if he had let you die, nothing would have changed. Thanos would have gotten the stone from him eventually, and he would have destroyed half the universe all the same. The only thing that would be different is that you wouldn’t have been around to save everyone. To save me. We would’ve lost for good. You didn’t kill me, Tony. Thanos did. You brought me back.”
“I could have saved you, I should have done more—“
“There was nothing else you could have done,” Peter said desperately, moving his hands to grasp Tony’s shoulders. “Not against Thanos. Not against the stones. There was nothing you could have done to stop that. You tried everything you possibly could to stop that, but nothing would ever have been enough.”
Tony’s eyes squeezed shut, a bloodied hand coming up to press against his face.
“But you know what? That doesn’t matter,” Peter said reaching up to pull Tony’s hand away from his face. “None of that matters, you know why?”
Tony shook his head, his hands shaking in Peter hold as he looked at the boy intently.
“Because you did save me,” Peter said softly, “you saved me, just like I knew you would. I’m alive, I’m right here.”
He took Tony’s hand and placed his over his heart, not caring that Tony’s blood was getting all over his sleep shirt. Tony’s hand clenched Peter’s shirt tight between his fingers.
“You saved me,” Peter whispered, “you always do.”
A tear slid out of the corner of Tony’s eye.
“I’m sorry— I didn’t,” Tony stammered, his head shaking back and forth, “I should have… I wanted to—“
“It’s okay,” Peter whispered, gripping Tony’s arm with both hands. “I’m right here.”
Peter could do nothing as the hand on his shirt yanked him forward, and before he knew it Tony’s arms are wrapped tightly around him, clutching him against Tony’s chest. Peter could hear Tony’s heartbeat beneath his ear, and though it was erratic, it was still one of the most soothing sounds Peter had ever heard.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Tony whispered into his hair.
Peter clenched his eyes shut. “It’s not your job to protect me.”
“ Yes, it is,” Tony says, pulling Peter back to look in in the eye. He lifted his hands to cup Peter’s face gently. “It will always be my job to protect you. You are my kid and it is my job to protect you, especially out there. And I couldn’t do that and I-- I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Peter says, looking into Tony’s eyes and feeling his own eyes begin to burn a bit, “it’s okay. I forgive you.”
There was nothing to forgive, but he knew those were the words Tony needed to hear.
“You brought me back,” Peter said, waiting until Tony nodded before continuing. “I’m alive, right here. None of the rest matters now, okay? I forgive you, and we’re okay now. Everything is okay now.”
Tony nodded. His eyes traveled over Peter’s face as though he were trying to memorize it. As though he were afraid if he looked away he would forget what Peter looked like. Peter said nothing, just sat and let Tony hold him, content in the knowledge that the man had calmed down and hoping he had helped to ease a little bit of the guilt the genius was carrying with him, had been carrying with him these last few months.
He went willingly when Tony pulled him back into a hug and buried his face in Peter’s hair.
“Love you, kid.”
“I love you, too,” Peter whispered, content to be held in the arms of one of the people he knew he would always be safe with, happy to provide comfort to the man who always comforted him and never asked anything in return.
“Come on,” Peter said gently when Tony pulled back, “let’s get your hands cleaned up. Then you can come sleep in my room in May’s old cot that they haven’t removed yet.”
Peter couldn’t possibly imagine what it had been like for Tony and May while he was gone, he thought as he helped Tony shakily to his feet. And he didn’t want to imagine. But thankfully it didn’t matter. What it had been like while he was gone didn’t matter. Because thanks to Tony, he was back. He was alive because Tony had made sure of it. Tony hadn’t stopped, hadn’t slept, hadn’t rested until Peter was back on Earth, safe where he belonged. And now he was here. Just as alive and as whole as he was before, right where he belonged. And if he had to, he’d spend every moment of the rest of his life reminding Tony of that.