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“I know this is the last thing anyone wants to hear right now, but there’s something entering the atmosphere just outside of the border.”
The small crowd of heroes turned to look at Princess Shuri. She had emerged from her lab, looking even worse than before. There were dark bags under her eyes and her shoulders sagged forward miserably. One hand curled around her stomach, the other held out a projection for them to see.
It showed a ship headed straight for them and Rhodey felt his heartbeat in his throat. The last thing they needed right now was to fight off more aliens. What more could the universe possibly throw at them? How much more could they lose?
But maybe this wasn’t the enemy. Maybe Tony was alive. It was a long shot, but maybe this was him coming home. If anyone were going to make it back, now, in the end of the universe, it would be Tony Stark.
Around him, people were reaching for their various suits and weapons. Rhodey knew he should do the same, but his heart had latched onto the idea that this was Tony, not Thanos, and he couldn’t allow himself to think anything different.
“Wait.” It was the raccoon, pushing his way through to get a closer look at the ship. “That’s Quill. That’s our ship!”
He turned to look at the rest of them, almost grinning. Rhodey saw hope in his eyes. For Rocket, this was a miracle, his family coming home.
Maybe Rhodey’s was, too.
Numbly, he followed Rocket, Shuri, and the others out to the edge of the boundary.
The ship couldn’t land in Wakanda’s borders, so it had taken a rather rough landing just outside. Quietly, Shuri opened a section of the barrier and they waited. Rocket rushed forward, but he stopped at the opening. Rhodey watched his shoulders sag, his hands fall to his side.
“Nebula?”
Rocket had talked about his friends, but he’d never mentioned a Nebula, at least not enough for the name to stick with Rhodey.
Quietly, he stepped to the side to let her through. Nebula was a tall blue alien with big black eyes and a creaking mechanical body, but Rhodey’s attention didn’t stay on her long.
Nebula was grunting, dragging something heavy behind her: a large piece of warped scrap metal, a person sprawled on it, unconscious.
Tony Stark.
Rhodey’s breath caught in his throat. At first, he felt relieved—he was here, he was back. This is what they needed now. This is what Rhodey needed.
Then relief melted into panic, because Tony was pale and unmoving, what little remained of his armor was damaged and blood-soaked, and he couldn’t tell if he was breathing.
Rhodey was on him in a flash, falling to his knees beside his best friend, his hands automatically reaching for his pulse point.
“Tones,” he breathed. There was a pulse, weak, but it was there.
“What is this, Nebula?” Rocket asked. “Where are Quill and the others? You just show up with a dead body and no explanations?”
“He is not dead,” Nebula said coolly. “At least, he was not dead earlier.”
“He’s alive,” Rhodey said. “He’s still alive, but he needs medical attention.” Vaguely, he was aware of Bruce joining him at Tony’s side.
“What happened to him?” Bruce asked, but he didn’t sound like a doctor talking about a patient; he sounded like a man terrified for a friend.
“Stab wound,” Nebula said. “Straight through. Right side.”
Bruce touched the remains of the armor. It remained only on his torso, wrapping protectively around Tony’s right side. “His suit. The nanites are stopping the bleeding.”
“That’s what he said,” Nebula agreed. “Then he passed out again.”
“Well I need to get it off of him to look at the wound. Rhodes, do you have any idea…” He trailed off at the look on Rhodey’s face.
Rhodey pushed himself back away from Tony’s body, feeling sick to his stomach. He’d been so focused on monitoring his friend’s shallow breathing, noting the lack of color in his cheeks and lips; he’d missed the worst part.
“He… that’s… ash.”
Ash.
Rhodey knew the ash well. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, saw his friends… Saw where Sam had been when…
He knew that ash.
Tony was covered in it. His hands were the worst, stained almost entirely black, but his chest was also coated in a thin layer.
Ash. But not ash. A person.
Tony was covered in someone’s ashes.
Bruce shook his head as if he could physically shake his horror away. “We can’t… Not right now… He needs medical attention. Shuri—”
Shuri appeared beside him, two Wakandans and a stretcher in tow. Rhodey was thankful when Steve stepped forward to help lift Tony onto it. The ash made him feel sick.
Rhodey stayed beside the stretcher as long as possible. Even once they reached the med bay, he remained nearby, though out of the way.
“We should wash this dust off,” Shuri said. “I get the feeling he will not be able to do it himself.”
Rhodey didn’t touch him. He still looked at the ash as if it were the most terrifying thing in the world.
It was.
When the ash was gone and Rhodey did what he could to help them get the suit off, they took him away to surgery. Rhodey sat down hard in a chair. Steve stood awkwardly in the corner.
Nebula and Rocket lurked in the doorway. They’d already had their talk, not quietly. Rocket’s friends were dead, every one of them. They’d been on that planet with Tony.
“Nebula?” Rhodey asked finally, breaking the heavy silence. “Who else was on that planet?” He was terrified to know the answer, but he needed to be prepared for what Tony would be when he woke up.
“My,” she hesitated, “friends. The Guardians of the Galaxy. And there was a wizard.”
“A wizard?” Steve asked.
“Yes. He had the time stone, but he gave it to Thanos. Just so he would spare Stark’s life. He said he’d seen every outcome of this war—that’s why I had to haul Stark’s pathetic ass back here. He’s going to help fix this.”
“Was there anyone else?” Rhodey interrupted. He couldn’t imagine that ash as any of them. Tony cared so deeply about saving as many people as possible, but it was still doubtful that he would be covered in the ash of a stranger.
Nebula’s expression softened just slightly. It was an odd look on her robotic face. “Yes,” she said. “There was a kid.”
A kid.
Those were the worst two words Rhodey had ever heard.
Rhodey found Tony in the lab at four in the morning. He’d known from the night before, when Tony’s smiles were too artificial and his jokes were too forced and he gripped his left hand to keep it from shaking, that it would be a rough night. He’d hoped he’d be wrong, but he rarely ever was.
Tony was there, hunched over a workbench, scribbling notes in the margins of the Spider-Man suit blueprints.
“More stuff for this spider guy? Tony, this isn’t healthy. You know this isn’t healthy. This another distraction, and frankly, it’s a little ridiculous.”
Tony set down his work and rubbed his eyes. “I was sleeping,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And then I woke up. And I won’t be able to sleep again until I can figure out how to make this thing bullet-proof without compromising the flexibility.”
“Tony, he’ll be okay. I’ve seen videos, and this guy’s got some quick reflexes. You made him a good suit. There’s always some new danger out there, but you can’t live your life obsessing over every little thing that could go wrong. I thought you’d realized that. Just because you’re channeling it into a suit for someone else, doesn’t mean it’s not just you projecting your anxieties.”
“I have to do this, Rhodey. If he gets hurt and I could have done something to protect him, then it’s my fault.”
“You can’t control everything, Tones. You’re always carrying the weight of the whole world on your shoulders, and you don’t need to do that.”
“In this case, I do. Or no one else will.”
“Tony…”
Tony just shook his head and went back to work.
Rhodey found Tony watching compilations of Spider-Man rescuing dogs at one in the afternoon, under a board room table.
It was suspicious, because Tony never smiled during meetings. He hated them, and it had only gotten worse since Germany and Siberia. Tony had been blamed for losing Steve and Barnes in Germany, for having something to do with the Rogue Avengers escaping the Raft, for hiding their current location from the UN. It was ridiculous, and Rhodey didn’t blame him for choosing to ignore him.
He supposed it was actually a more productive use of his time. All these meetings were just thinly-veiled accusations and nonsense that could be an email.
Then he started to catch Tony watching or reading up on Spider-Man after just about every meeting. When he asked him about it, Tony didn’t really seem to have an answer.
He shrugged. “The kid gets really excited when I mention stuff he’s done on his patrols.”
“That’s all? You must have seen like seventy of these things, Tones. It’s weird.”
“It lets me know that he’s doing what he’s supposed to do. Rescuing dogs, helping old ladies, reuniting lost kids—staying low to the ground. I like knowing that he’s not dead.”
A week later, Rhodey spots him scrolling through an article entitled "Crime in Queens reportedly down 15%, could this be thanks to the vigilante known as Spider-Man?" There’s pride on Tony’s face. He hasn’t really seen Tony be proud of much in a long time. Pride is rare when Tony constantly fills himself guilt, blame, and self-doubt. The old Avengers didn’t really show Tony the appreciation he deserved, and it’s nice that Tony’s found something to feel proud of himself for, although it’s a little strange that that source was some vigilante that they barely knew.
When he finds him scrolling through a Twitter feed on Spider-Man after a particularly rough day, he decides enough is enough. Something’s going on, and he doesn’t like being left in the dark.
“Tones, seriously. What is this about? This goes beyond just checking up on the guy.”
Tony sighed. “I’ve been sort of… mentoring the kid. And that’s not something I ever thought I’d do.”
Rhodey stared. " Mentoring? Yeah, okay. You're mentoring him. And you’re proud of him?”
“I am. I didn’t really mean to mentor him, and I’m not sure why he’s insisted on sticking around, but he did. And I guess… I guess seeing all the good he’s doing, it makes me feel like maybe I’m doing something right for once.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Kid’s a little secretive about his real identity. When he’s ready, you can meet him.”
“I’d like that.”
“He’s a good kid. A really good kid. I just hope I don’t screw him up. Don’t let me screw him up, okay? I’m trusting you here, Rhodes.”
Rhodey just made a mental note to keep up more with Spider-Man news.
Rhodey found Tony asleep on the couch at eleven in the evening, which was so far off-character for Tony Stark that Rhodey does a triple take. On the TV screen, the end credits of some movie scrolled, music playing softly.
Rhodey crept out of the common room as quietly as his braces allowed and made his way to the kitchen. He had to be dreaming. This was a dream. Tony Stark had not gone to sleep before three a.m. since he was seven years old.
Just when he thought the surprises were over, he found a gallon Ziploc bag filled with slightly-burnt chocolate chip cookies on the counter.
No way Tony made them, although if he had, they probably would be burnt.
He highly doubted it was Happy, and Rhodey hadn’t made them. So, who had? A ghost? Was the compound haunted? At this point, that was the most logical solution.
He picked them up for further inspection and found a note tucked underneath:
Mr. Stark,
May and I were making cookies yesterday and we made a few too many, so these are for you. Before you say anything, they’re not burnt, just a little crispy and I did that on purpose, ok? Anyways, enjoy!
And save a few for Colonel Rhodes and Happy, ok? Don’t eat them all in one place!
-your favorite spiderkid :)
So many questions. Spider-Man made cookies? For Tony Stark? And referred to himself as “spiderkid?”
And he knew enough about Tony to know that Rhodey was one of the few people who got to be a part of his life?
He whirled around as Tony walked in groggily, rubbing his forehead. “Ugh. You know when you fall asleep at a weird time and when you wake up time feels like jelly? Hey, what’s that?”
Rhodey held up the bag. “Uh, your protégé made cookies?”
Tony glanced at his watch. “I guess Happy took him home. Can you believe he just left me asleep on the couch?”
Rhodey shrugged. “You need it.” He opened the bag and took a cookie.
“Hey!” Tony snatched for the bag. “He made those for me!”
“Nuh uh!” Rhodey said, his mouth full of cookie. “’Spiderkid’ specifically said to give some to me!”
“What? No way.”
Rhodey handed him the note and took another bite. “They’re not half bad. A little crispy, but I don’t mind that.”
Tony stared at the note, not seeming to comprehend it. “He, he left cookies? And he knows who you are?”
“Well, duh. I’m a famous superhero.”
Tony looked Rhodey in the eyes. “I think I accidentally got way too close to the kid.”
“I think you did. It’s okay, man. We could use some more people on our team.” He didn’t mention the team they’ve lost, he doesn’t have to.
Tony just sighed and ate a cookie.
Rhodey found Tony sitting in his car at two in the afternoon.
Tony looked up at him. “You want to meet him?”
“Huh? Who?”
“Spider-Man. I’m going to pick him up. Do you want to come and meet him?”
“Are you being serious right now? That’s really where you’re going?”
“It is. Are you coming or not? Kid says he’s ready to meet you, and we could use some more people on Team Spider-Man. Lord knows I’ve spent too much time stressing about this alone, and maybe he’ll actually listen to someone other than me.”
Rhodey shrugged. “Alright.”
Tony didn’t tell him anything about Spider-Man on the way over, saying that, “The kid loves to talk. I’ll let him tell you about himself.” Rhodey raised an eyebrow but didn’t push him. Tony was weirdly protective over Spider-Man and he didn’t want to screw up his chance to finally meet the guy.
And he should maybe freak out, because he’s now realizing that this is a kid. Spider-Man is a kid. They’re in front of a high school and he can hear the kid talking about legos and Jesus, he’s just a baby.
But he’s already seen Tony stress about this kid and drive himself crazy trying to protect him. He’s heard Tony tell him on the phone to “stay low to the ground” and he’s seen Tony grin at the viral compilations that show him doing just that. The kid’s in good hands.
Spider-Man slid in the car and greeted Tony cheerily. “Hi, Mr. Stark! How was your day?”
“It was pretty good, kid. I brought someone I thought you might want to meet.”
Rhodey turned around and waved at the kid. His eyes went wide.
“Colonel Rhodes! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan. My name’s Peter, by the way. Peter Parker. Sorry. I should have introduced myself first. It’s just so cool to finally meet you.”
“I’m a fan of you, too, kid.”
“So, you know my, uh—”
“I know about Spider-Man, yes. I think it’s really cool what you’re doing. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, Colonel Rhodes.” The kid grinned, his shoulders relaxing.
“Hey, kid, has Tony Stank here ever given you any formal training? Don’t get me wrong, you’ve clearly got skills, but—”
“I'm sorry, did you just call him Tony Stank?” Peter can barely speak through his giggles.
“James Rhodes,” Tony said between gritted teeth, “I’m going to kill you.”
“This is amazing,” Peter said. “This is the best day of my life, seriously.”
“If you ever call me Tony Stank I’ll lock you out of the lab for a year.”
“I would never,” Peter deadpans. “I was raised right. I always try to be respectful, Mr. Stank.”
Rhodey roared with laughter. “Shut up, Rhodes,” Tony growled. “Do not humor him. He’s already a little shit—”
Peter’s laughing, too, now and he can see Tony smirking, trying and failing horribly to look angry at the kid.
“So, kid, Rhodey here was going to offer you some formal training if you’re interested…”
“Tones, are you changing the subject? Peter, I think he’s changing the subject.”
“I think he is,” Peter agreed. “But I am interested in training, Colonel Rhodes.”
“Yeah? I think we can manage that.”
“Cool! Will you be joining us, Mr. Stank?”
“Aaaaand there go your lab privileges,” Tony said. “Hope it was worth it.”
Peter just grins and shrugs.
A year later, Rhodey found Tony covered in ash, time meaningless in the end of the world.
Rhodey closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands. “God,” he muttered.
“What kid?” Steve asked Nebula.
“I don’t know his name,” Nebula said. She looked at Rhodey. “You knew him.” It’s not a question. She can tell by how his body shakes and his breath hitches.
Yeah, he knew him.
It’s the first holiday season without the team.
The first year without Sam and Clint drunkenly singing Christmas carols, the first year without Wanda using her powers to help decorate the compound, the first year without Nat getting surprisingly into Secret Santa, the first year without Steve and his terrible Christmas sweaters that Tony pretended to hate.
The year before had already been rough, missing Bruce. There had been a dark cloud that day, although no one mentioned it.
There wasn’t really any way to ignore the loss this year.
Now, even Vision was gone. He’d disappeared a week before and they hadn’t heard from him since. Rhodey knew Tony had already gotten him a present, even though the android was still trying to understand the significance of giving holiday gifts. Besides Rhodey, none of their old teammates knew how important finding the perfect gift was to Tony.
It was two days before Christmas, and Rhodey was coming back from physical therapy to stay at the compound. Tony would need him. He needed all the family he could get.
Standing in the elevator outside the common room, Rhodey rolled his shoulders back, mentally preparing himself for how empty the compound would be, for his best friend to plaster on a horrible fake smile and pretend everything was okay, to spend what used to be their favorite time of year remembering how their friends, their family had abandoned them.
He was not prepared for what he actually saw.
The compound looked like Santa Claus, all nine of his reindeer, and seven-hundred elves had thrown up Christmas everywhere. Nearly every square inch was covered in lights, tinsel, and paper snowflakes. The huge tree was haphazardly covered in every type of ornament they made, most of which Rhodey hadn’t ever seen before. Tony, Wanda, and Sam always decorated, but it was usually warm and clean, like a hotel lobby, something picture-perfect and elegant, the three of them squabbling over moving a wreath two inches to the left or making sure none of the red ornaments were right next to each other.
This looked like twenty toddlers amped up on cafine did the decorating.
It didn’t take long to figure out why.
Sitting on the floor, in the center of the Christmas tornado, were Tony and Peter.
Both of them were drinking hot chocolate, Tony from an old MIT mug, Peter from a mug that looked like it was covered in the Spider-Man logo. Tony had whipped cream in his goatee, and Peter had three candy canes sticking out of his drink. Rhodey cringed imagining how sweet it must be.
Peter spots him first. “Colonel Rhodes!” he called, waving happily. “Come join the party! Look at this mug Mr. Stark got me! It’s Spider-Man! I didn’t know they made Spider-Man merch.”
They do. Rhodey had given Tony a Spider-Man t-shirt a few months before. He’d definitely seen Tony wear it, although never in front of the kid.
Rhodey made his way over to them slowly, having a bit of difficulty navigating the maze of lights that they hadn’t put up yet. Where they could possibly fit any more lights, he didn’t know.
“Rhodey, come sit,” Tony said, dragging a chair into their little huddle.
“You guys have been hard at work,” he said as he sat down.
Tony shrugged. “It was mostly Peter.”
“It was not!” Peter said. “You are just as much responsible for this mess as I am!”
“Oh, good,” Rhodey said. “So, you know this is chaos.”
“Well, yeah,” Peter said. “That’s what makes it fun! Do you want some hot chocolate, Colonel Rhodes? I can go make you some!” Peter was on his feet before he could answer. “I’ll be right back!”
“You better not put any candy canes in mine!” Rhodey called. “I know how you are, Peter! No one else likes that much sugar!”
Peter waved him off without turning around and Tony chuckled.
“He’s going to add them just to annoy you.”
“No, he only does that to you,” Rhodey said. “Peter’s very respectful to everyone else.”
Tony glared at him. “He still insists on calling me ‘Mr. Stark,’ while simultaneously being the most obnoxious little shit in existence”
“Well, I’m glad he’s here,” Rhodey said. “And I’m glad you guys decorated. It’s a different look from usual, but I like it.”
“Kid organized it himself. How could I say no?”
Peter returned with hot chocolate and they listened to him ramble about the newest Star Wars movie until Happy came to take the kid home.
Christmas Eve, the Parkers invited Tony and Rhodey over for dinner. Pepper, too, but she couldn’t make it.
Usually on Christmas Eve, the Avengers would exchange Secret Santa gifts and binge watch Friends, talking loudly about the characters and yelling at the TV. It was an odd tradition, started when Thor accidentaly put it on one year and the team realized that although it was an incredibly famous show, none of them had actually seen it.
Thank God for the Parkers, because Rhodey didn’t know if it would be worse for the TV to sit off all night, the compound deadly silent, or for the two of them to awkwardly watch Friends alone, devoid of Steve's confused comments and Sam yelling about how much he hated Ross.
The Parkers played Christmas music all night long. Even if somehow the conversation managed to lull (it turns out that Peter’s tendency to ramble didn’t end once he got comfortable around you), there was never a moment of silence.
May and Peter made chicken and roasted vegetables, and Rhodey didn’t understand why Tony was always complaining about their cooking. It was pretty good. Peter lit up when he told him that.
“Really? Well, the chicken was all May, but I made the vegetables!”
May smiled. “Alright, gentlemen, tonight for dessert we have two options: homemade fruitcake or boxed gingerbread house kits.”
Peter made a face. “May, they don’t want to make gingerbread houses. I told you that. It’s childish, plus the candy is always stale.”
“Peter, we’ve made gingerbread houses together every year since you were three.”
“Yeah, but that was just us. Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes don’t want to do that.”
“I think it sounds fun,” Rhodey said. “I haven’t made a gingerbread house in years.”
“And I’ve never made one,” Tony said. “But we don’t want to impose on your family traditions, kid. If you want us to go, we can.”
Peter’s eyes went wide. “No! It’s not that! I’d love for you to stay, if you want. It’s just that I figured you’d think it was childish, is all.”
Tony waved him off. “A tradition’s a tradition. I’m pretty sure we’re legally obligated to make these gingerbread houses.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, Mr. Stark…”
“I’m the adult and I say it is.”
“Whatever.” Peter grinned and pulled the gingerbread kit out from under the table, tearing it open.
The four of them worked together to make a fairly decent gingerbread house. Rhodey and May’s work on the roof was good, although the main body of the house was lopsided, since a certain billionaire genius somehow couldn’t figure out how to use icing as glue. Peter was in charge of decorating, and despite complaining the whole time that the pre-packaged candy was terrible, he ate over half of it. May kept trying to snatch the bag of gum drops out of his hand, but he was too quick for her.
Rhodey was proud when Tony invited May and Peter over for Christmas dinner the next day.
That Christmas dinner wasn’t anything like Christmas with the Avengers. In Rhodey’s opinion, it was better. Maybe Tony didn’t think so, since some part of him was still stuck remembering what Christmas used to be, but he was lying to himself.
Tony was happier. Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, Peter, May—they were better for Tony. They cared about him, and Tony deserved to be surrounded by people who loved him, especially on Christmas.
They opened presents after dinner. Tony got Rhodey a cheesy Iron Man t-shirt, like he did every year. It was their running joke. War Machine wasn’t as popular, and it was hard to find merch, so Rhodey had given Tony the same War Machine-themed hat and keychain that he gave him every year. He had six identical hats and keychains now, and Rhodey knew he kept them all.
Towards the end of the unwrapping, Peter handed Rhodey a small box.
“Here. This is for you.” He opened it carefully and inside was a crude War Machine tree ornament. “When we were decorating the tree the other day, I noticed there was an Iron Man ornament, and Mr. Stark gave me a Spider-Man ornament to add, which was so, so cool, but there was no War Machine ornament, which is stupid because you’re one of the coolest superheroes ever, and I had to look forever to find this one, but I figured you could put it right near Iron Man and Spider-Man and then we can all be team Iron Man together. Is it okay? It’s okay if you don’t like it. It’s not the most high-quality, but—”
“It’s amazing, kid. Thanks. For real, this is great. Thank you.”
Peter beamed and Rhodey knew that there was no going back now. This kid was a party of their strange little family, and they were all going to be better off because of it.
May suggested they watch Christmas movies. Peter looked visibly appalled when Tony said he didn’t have a favorite Christmas movie, but Pepper had just suggested they watch whatever Peter liked, which turned out to be Rudolph.
They watched cheesy movie after cheesy movie until everyone else was asleep in the warm glow of the Christmas lights. Rhodey smiled and let his eyes fall closed as well. It wasn’t like the old days. It was better.
“Rhodes, what kid?” Steve asked again. “Who is she talking about?”
Rhodey just shook his head. “I have to go,” he said, standing. “I have to be with Tony. He’ll need me when he wakes up.”
He couldn’t imagine what Tony would be now.
Tony and the kid were supposed to be in the training room forty-three minutes ago.
Peter had gotten out of school at 3:30, then he and Tony were supposed to get ice cream to celebrate the kid’s recent exam scores, and then, like every Friday, the three of them were supposed to train.
He’d expected them to be a little late—Tony and Peter had a habit of losing track of time—but forty-three minutes was a new record. It was getting a little ridiculous. Sure, he was glad Peter had aced his exams, but he still needed to train. Or they could at least tell Rhodey if they’d decided to take the day off.
What sort of manners was Tony teaching this kid?
“You better not be dying, Tony,” he muttered to himself as he dialed Tony’s number.
Tony picked up almost instantaneously. “Rhodey! Sorry, sorry, I know should have called, but things have been a little crazy.”
“Yeah, you should have. Where are you?”
“About to pull into the medbay.”
“What?”
“Yeah, it took us a little longer than usual because superkid was being an idiot.”
“Did you just call me an idiot?” Peter’s muffled voice was more pained groan than actual speech and worry flooded Rhodey’s veins.
“Yes, I did call you an idiot. You were being an idiot.”
“Okay, just checking.”
“No backtalk?” Rhodey asked. “This must be serious. What’s happening?”
“Peter has appendicitis,” Tony said. “I think. I’m pretty sure. I’m not a doctor, Rhodey. But I know something’s wrong. And this idiot didn’t tell me.”
“I thought it was just a bad stomach ache,” Peter groaned. “I didn’t want to mess up our plans.”
“We could reschedule, Pete.”
“And it’s not like I can go to a hospital!”
“But you can go to the compound medbay! And it’s my compound and my team that know you and can help you, so maybe you should have told me sooner, you idiot.”
“Alright, Tones, don’t kick the kid while he’s down.”
“Thank you, Colonel Rhodes,” Peter said.
“Alright, Pete,” Tony said, hearing the pain in the kid's voice. “We’re almost there. Let’s go back chemical compounds, okay? What’s sodium carbonate?”
“Na2CO3,” Peter replied.
“Sodium nitrite?”
“NaNO2.”
“Sodium nitrate?”
“NaNO3. Come on, Mr. Stark, that’s too easy.”
“Fine, fine, genius. Sorry for trying to tailor this exercise for an infant like yourself. What’s sodium acetate?”
“Na…NaC2H3...O2.”
“Good job, kid. We’re here.”
“Oh, thank God,” Peter said.
“I’ll meet you down there, Tones,” Rhodey said, hanging up the phone and starting towards the medbay.
By the time he made it down there, Tony was sitting in the waiting room alone. He was pacing, but Rhodey managed to get him to sit down.
“They took him into surgery,” Tony said. “He’s apparently been having symptoms for a while, and ignoring them, and his appendix ruptured.”
“So he really was being an idiot, then.”
“Would I lie? This is one of the stupidest things he’s done. If I hadn’t noticed something was off, he could have died.”
“But he won’t die. He’s gonna be okay, Tones. You just have to let the doctors do their thing. And with his healing factor, his recovery probably won’t take long at all. He’ll be back to helping cats out of trees within a week.”
“I’m still mad at him.”
“Yeah, okay, Tony.”
Tony tapped his foot rapidly against the tile floor. At least he wasn’t pacing.
He tapped until the moment Peter was out of surgery and the doctors, pausing only to step out and call the kid’s aunt.
Once Peter was out of surgery, Rhodey followed Tony into his room. Peter was tired and loopy from the anesthesia.
“Mis’r Stark,” he said. “Colnel Roes. The doc’rs stole my appendix! Di’ you know tha?”
Rhodey looked at Tony. “The stuff we’ve got that works with his metabolism is really strong,” Tony explained. “It should wear off soonish. Hey, bud,” he said to Peter. “How are you feeling?”
Peter grinned with his eyes closed and gave him a thumbs-up. “My stomach d’nt hur’ an’more and I feel like a b’lloon!”
“Alright, Pete. That’s good.” Tony set his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter stared at the hand in awe.
“It is good,” Peter agreed. “Hey, Colnel Roes, di’ you know they took my ‘ppendix?”
Rhodey chuckled. “I did know that, Pete. Do you want it back?”
Peter made a face. “Ew. No. Tha’s gross.”
“Oh, thank God,” Tony said.
“Hey, Mis’r Stark? Di’ you call Aunt May?”
“I did. I’ll call her again, though, and let her know you’re out of surgery. She’ll be here tomorrow once she gets off her shift.”
When Tony stepped out to call May, Peter locked eyes with Rhodey. His face fell.
“What is it, Peter?” he asked.
“May’s gonna know I di’nt do my English homework.”
Rhodey raised his eyebrows. “I think she’ll understand, kid.”
“Oh. Yeah. I gotta read twelve chap’ers of Great Expectatations ‘fore Monday, though, so I gotta do it now.”
“Do what now?” Tony asked, re-entering.
“His homework,” Rhodey supplied. “Will you pass me the kid’s backpack? I’ll read it to you, Pete.”
“Really?” Peter asked. “Thanks, Colnel Roes!”
Tony handed him Peter’s backpack. Rhodey rooted through the mess of notebooks and loose paper until he found a ragged copy of Great Expectations, half of its cover torn off.
“Kid, your backpack’s a mess,” Tony complained.
“S’rry. I was distracted. My stomach really hurt.”
“Yeah, alright,” Tony said. He sat down next to Rhodey and shoved the backpack beneath his chair. “You know he’s probably not going to remember anything you read to him now, right?”
Rhodey shrugged. “He can always reread it. It’s not going to hurt him.”
“Alright. Read on, Rhodes.”
“You don’t have to stay an’ lis’n, Mis’r Stark,” Peter said. “Ned says it’s really boring.”
Tony waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Peter smiled and settled back on his pillow as Rhodey began to read.
Peter, with his damn incredible healing factor, was cleared to leave the medbay just three hours later. He was still forbidden from doing anything too strenuous, but he was allowed to go upstairs to the common area with Tony and Rhodey.
It was 9:30, and Tony knew that with Peter’s metabolism, he definitely needed to eat something, and the doctors had cleared him.
“What are you feeling, kid? Pizza? Chinese?”
Peter made a pained face. “Uh… I guess…”
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked.
“I just feel kind of nauseous, honestly.”
Tony turned to Rhodey. “Nausea. Is that bad? Do we need a doctor?”
“No,” Rhodey said, “I think he’s okay. It’s probably just the surgery and meds and everything. I think we call a doctor if he throws up.”
“Yeah, alright. Well, you still need to eat. FRIDAY, what are okay foods for people feeling nauseous?”
“For someone in Mr. Parker’s position,” FRIDAY said, “I would recommend bland, low-fat foods.”
“Great,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll go see what terrible, tasteless foods we have.”
When Tony was gone for twenty minutes, Rhodey and Peter wandered out to find him in the kitchen, madly stirring watery oatmeal. Instant oatmeal packages and burnt-black pieces of toast were scattered across the counter. One small pile of less-burnt toast was stacked on a plate.
“Why…won’t…this…work…” Tony said to the oatmeal, between clenched teeth.
“The water’s not going to disappear just because you keep stirring it, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “Just dump the extra out into the sink. Use the spoon to keep the oatmeal from falling out.”
Tony glared at the kid, but did as he suggested. “Why are you even in here? Shouldn’t you be lying down?”
“The internet says it’s good to take walks every day.” Peter shrugged. “I figure that for me, that means every few hours.”
Tony looked at him skeptically, but didn’t say anything.
“Did it take you this long to make…” Rhodey counted, “six pieces of toast?”
“Six acceptable pieces of toast,” Peter corrected and motioned to the burnt pieces. “These didn’t make the cut.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Tony said. “I don’t do this very often, so consider yourself lucky.”
Peter stared at him. “I do,” he said quietly. “This is great, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”
Tony stared back at him, looking almost shell-shocked. He gaped a little, like he wanted to brush off Peter’s kindness with a snarky comment, but he couldn’t. His expression morphed into a lopsided smile and he ruffled the kid’s hair in response.
“Yeah? Let’s eat.”
“Is this for all of us?” Rhodey asked.
“Well, if Peter has to suffer through terrible foods, so should we.” Tony handed him one of the pieces of toast and a small bowl of oatmeal.
“One piece of toast, Tony? Really?”
“Yes.” Tony handed Peter four pieces of toast and a bowl of oatmeal.
“I don’t need all of this, Colonel Rhodes,” Peter said. “Here. Take another piece.”
“Do not take another piece,” Tony said. “Peter, you need food, so you can heal.”
Peter rolled his eyes and took a bite of toast. “Not bad,” he said. “Tastes exactly like the toast I made when I was seven.”
“Great,” Rhodey said. “I’m so excited.” Tony glared at him.
“Let’s just go sit and eat. Peter, which Star Wars do you want to watch?”
“I like other movies you know,” Peter said. “We can watch something else.”
“Yeah, but those are your nerd favorites. Which one?”
“Four. That’s my favorite one.”
“Wait,” Rhodey said. “But Five is the best one.”
“But Four is where everything started,” Peter protested. “It’s the first introduction to these characters and this world and you get to see—”
“Don’t get him started,” Tony interrupted. “Episode Four, it is. Come one, Parker. Let’s get you off your feet.”
They were about halfway through when Tony got up and left.
Peter lifted his head from the couch arm and watched him go. “Where’s he going?” he asked Rhodey groggily.
Rhodey shrugged. It was a little weird, but he highly doubted Tony was just going to leave the kid for no good reason.
If someone had told Rhodey two years ago that one day Tony would be fussing over a sick kid, cooking and eating horrible oatmeal, and rewatching Star Wars over and over, he would have laughed. He knew Tony had it in him, he knew Tony cared so much and would do anything for just about anyone, but he didn’t think Tony would ever have accepted it. After everything he went through and still went through with Howard, he knew Tony constantly doubted himself. Tony had so much love to give, but he’d become hesitant to show it, and with the team leaving, Rhodey had been terrified that Tony would close himself off completely.
But Peter didn’t let him.
Thank God that kid was a reckless, endearing nerd, because he was able to do something that Rhodey couldn’t. Rhodey would support Tony, would make sure he didn’t spiral too far. But Rhodey was also pissed. He was pissed at Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff and Clint Barton. He was pissed at their team for leaving. And truth be told, they left Rhodey, too, and they left him paralyzed. And Rhodey didn’t blame himself for what happened, not like he knew Tony did, but he did feel the loss of the team. He could feel the emptiness of the compound and that kept him from truly being able to fill the gaps in Tony’s life that their old team had left.
Peter was different. At first, maybe he’d been a distraction, but not anymore. Peter looked up to Tony, he was his hero. And Tony knew that if he could just keep Peter safe, Peter would be the best of them all. Peter was Tony’s hero, and he was Rhodey’s, too, because he’d saved Tony without even knowing it.
Tony walked back in and Peter sat all the way up.
“Where’d you go?” Rhodey asked.
“Well, it’s not really low-fat, but if you’re feeling better…” Tony held up two bowls of vanilla ice cream.
“Ah, thanks, Tones,” Rhodey said. He took the bowls from him and passed one to Peter before taking a huge bite from the other.
“Hey! That was for me!” Tony protested. He grabbed for Rhodey’s spoon, but he just dodged him and took another bite.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know,” Rhodey said. “Mmm, this is pretty good. You should get some, Tones.”
Tony scowled and sat down on the couch next to Peter. “No, I’ve already missed too much of the movie,” he muttered.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “This is perfect.”
In the light of the TV, Rhodey could see Tony smiling.
Peter was asleep before the credits rolled, his head lolled sideways on Tony’s arm. Tony didn’t push the kid off, didn’t move him. Rhodey knew that the kid’s head digging into his arm like that had to be uncomfortable, but Tony didn’t wake him. He smiled, and he actually looked proud.
Rhodey was proud, too.
He was there when Tony woke up. He came-to gasping and flailing his arms before his hand found Rhodey’s arm and he realized where he was.
“Rhodey.” His voice was hoarse and broken. “Oh, God. That was terrible. I…” He lifted his hands, staring at his scrubbed-clean skin. “It was a dream?” He breathed deeply in relief. “Oh, thank fuck. It was a dream.”
Fuck. He’d already lost the kid once, and now Rhodey was going to have to tell him again? That his worst nightmare was real?
“Tones…”
Tony tore his eyes from his hands. He was smiling at Rhodey, relieved. “Rhodey, that was—Why are you looking at me like that? What happened?”
“It wasn’t a dream, Tones. I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Tony’s face went slack so suddenly that Rhodey was scared he would pass out. His shaking hands clutched at everything: the sheets, his chest, the sides of the bed.
“That woman, Nebula, she told me what happened, that Peter was out there with you.”
“That was real? No, it… it can’t be real, Rhodey. I…” He stared at Rhodey, openmouthed, looking pale and wrecked.
Rhodey was still processing. He didn’t know how to help Tony now, how to comfort him. Tony was beyond comforting.
“I’m so sorry, Tony.” He couldn’t keep his own grief out of his voice.
“It shouldn’t have been him, Rhodey. He was just a kid.”
“I know.” Peter was a kid. A brilliant, cheerful, kindhearted, dorky kid. And he’d been ripped from their lives. Pretty much the best thing that had happened to Tony was gone, leaving a scar deeper than the one in his chest.
“He’s dead,” Tony rambled, his words tripping over each other. “He’s dead and it’s because of me.”
“No, Tones.”
“He is. That idiot magician traded the time stone for me. I didn’t want him to, but—”
“Well, he made a damn good choice, Tony.”
“No! I should have died and then Peter and the rest of the fucking universe would be alive.” He was trying to hold them back, but there were angry, heartbroken tears in his eyes.
“Stop talking like this, Tony. Peter wouldn’t want you to trade your life for his! He would want you to do what you do best: save the world.”
“He begged me to help him. He begged me to save him as he died, Rhodey, and it’s All. I. Hear. I don’t want to save the world; I wanted to save him.”
“I’m sorry, Tony,” Rhodey whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Tony stared at his hands, looking hollow. Slowly, he traced his fingers along his palms, feeling for ash that wasn’t there.
There was nothing left.