Work Text:
It was a song, that old song him and Rhodey used to play back at MIT that sang about pina coladas that made Peter’s head snap, the tense joints popping painfully. Tony’s heartstrings were tugged on at the sight of the teenager's red rimmed eyes and blood smears across his forehead. God, it hurt. He couldn’t help but wonder if Peter would ever come back from this. He wasn’t the same- none of them would ever be again, but his child .
No, not his child, his kid.
Tony wishes that Peter was his son, not even biologically, just there. The kid was a homemade genius and wore his heart on his sleeve like it was stitched there forever. Tony can practically see the pieces it’s broken in after this, it was his fault they were there in the first place.
Peter’s greasy curls, his blank stare and glassy eyes set him on his own verge of tears. He looked so… gone. Gone again, dusting, dusting, falling apart-
His chest shook on a choked out sob and once again, Peter’s joint snapped to look at him. Tony clamped his eyes shut so he wouldn’t dwell on the lack of sparkle and life in Peter’s eyes.
“Hey, Mist- Tony, it’s okay.” Peter muttered, scooching closer so that their knees knocked together uncomfortabley. His name sounded foreign on the kid’s tongue like a bittersweet memory. “You’re okay now, we’re, uh, going back home now, you’re going back home.”
Tony shook his head, his body was coursing with straight grief even through he shouldn’t be grieving, he did enough of it back at the compound. He was forced to tell about his experience on that planet, about his fight, his loss. He nearly passed out from forcing the words to leave his mouth in front of his teammates, they were selfish in their catastrophe just as Tony wished he could be. “I’m sorry, sorry Pete.”
Peter wiped his tears way with the back of his hand which did nothing but smear dirt over his cheek before speaking again. “S’not your fault.” His voice was scratchy and rough like he hadn’t used it in awhile.
Tony didn’t feel like arguing, didn’t feel like doing much of anything other than watching Peter, watching how differently he held himself. It was careless and tense, his eyes didn’t shine like they held the sky anymore. They were dull in a way Peter Parker had never been in his life, Tony supposes death is nullifying for the youth in more way than he would ever understand.
“You should sleep, Stark. You look like shit.” Strange told him, his back against the wall adjacent to him. He looked oddly clean compared to Peter, like he’d never gotten his hands dirty in his life. One of the noticeably shook and if any of the others saw it, they didn’t say anything.
Before he could protest, Peter was sitting next to him, their sides pressed together. Tony almost made a quip about personal space until the kid let his head roll on his shoulder, he let his mouth snap shut with an audible click.
“C’mon, Tony, please?” Peter whispered, his eyes already half-lidded with exhaustion. His breaths were coming out as little, yet uneven puffs and his limbs were given free will in his lap. His hair tickled Tony’s neck and he refrained from brushing back his bangs and running his fingers through the child’s hair. Parental love that only Peter could triggered flowed through him and a surge of the need to protect the kid made itself present. “Please?” He whimpered again.
Tony sighed. “Nap time for Spider-Baby first.”He quickly wiped his cheeks and clamped his hands in his lap.
Peter shook his head, lifting it away with a groan that worried Tony, but he bit his tongue. He moved away a little and Tony missed the warmth in his chest. He wanted to cry again when the kid let his head bang against the wall behind him and scrubbed at his eyes. “I’m good.”
Against the opposite wall, Strange rolled his eyes. “You’re both so dense.”
“He started it.” Tony mumbled, earning an exasperated look from both of them.
Peter ignored him and started rambling like he did when he was nervous, like he did when Tony first let him into the lab. He and Rhodey made a little game of how long the kid could go on without stopping or being stopped, so far the longest is six minutes. It had been after Peter fell asleep on the couch after a bad patrol, he was practically in tears when he woke up in his bed, stripped of the suit and in warm blankets. Tony had brushed him off with a small smile and a pat to his red cheek.
“-promise I slept, Mister- uh, Tony. This big guy, I fought him in Germany goes ‘not you again’ and the other guy just pushed him, ya know the one that flies! He goes ‘that’s Stark’s kid, play nice’ and he looked after me! Do ya know him? His name was Mister Sam, and I also met the king of Wakanda!” Peter took a breath, he even let a sleepy smile splay across his lips.” Said he ‘ad a sister that was my age, the princess! They looked after me a bit, even though I said I didn’t a babysitter, they insisted. Mr. Quill even-”
Tony didn’t overlook how Strange was looking at Peter fondly, being fully attentive to him talking. He was sure to tune in when the kid started talking about the tricks Strange showed him, and how he even let him help in some.
“- there were ‘buncha dogs and animals in there too. One dog, some typa’ curly haired dog kept coming over, I named him Sandwich, he was a cutie, Mister Tony! He was adorable .”
Tony listened to every word, watched when his eyes lit up at the people he met and the surprisingly tame animals he came in contact with. Peter never got too excited about it, his voice dropped when he talked about the loneliness, that the others were constantly undermining his abilities and brushing him off as just another kid. He recalled the moms that cried and the screaming infants and children that never understood what was happening. The sick people, the bloody, the ones that were eternally in pain because of the bad timing, the warriors with PTSD and the killers of the souls.
With a sad smile he pulled the kid into him, ignoring his yelp of surprise. Peter let himself be pulled in, letting out a soft whine when Tony’s fingers pressed into the pulse point of his wrist. He let the other hand tangle in his hair, scratching at the kid’s dirty scalp. He smelled like blood and teenage body odor but he smelled alive. That’s all he needed, living suited the kid.
Tony pursed his lips to hold back a smile as Peter just melted.He was in no way better, nothing would hold him from this but maybe they could go back to the way things used to be. Peter could get the diploma that was stripped from him, continue his life and Tony could live down his sins in peace. He didn’t have the heart to push the kid away, he’d already tried once and it almost killed the kid. It was metaphorically killing him, watching Peter beyond his protocols and vicariously through his patrol logs. Tony would never deserve someone like Peter but there’s no way he’s going to let his doubt stop him from trying to be half as great as he’s thought to be.
After all, as much as Tony is Peter’s hero, Peter is Tony’s, too.
“Night, kid.” He said quietly.
“Will you be there when I wake up?” Peter muttered sleepily. If he’d been more awake, the question would have embarrassed him but his eyes were already closed.
Tony nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I will be.”
-
“Mister- fuck, Tony, you have to sleep.” Peter begged, hands hard on his knees. “Please?”
The plea made Tony's chest pound with what had happened and he pushed it to the back of his mind. Peter was trying to get him to sleep even though ironically, he wouldn't sleep himself. He'd told Strange he felt queasy, earning worried looks from literally everybody.
“You first, kiddo.” Tony replied, twiddling his thumbs and purposefully avoiding Peter's big brown eyes, the eyes he could never say no to.
Tony knows that Peter is frustrated with him. The biggest and most humorously obvious sign is when he puffs out a breath and crosses his arms like he wants to throw a tantrum. He rolls his eyes and puts unwarranted distance between them, tension boils like blood in Tony’s veins at the kid’s under-eye bags and small wheezes once in awhile. He knows how clingy Peter is, how clingy he wants to be. It’s been more than once where he turns into a human octopus, holding onto any warm body that would have him.
More than he wants to be held, he’s stubborn. Whenever they argued Peter closed himself off to bay his anger, keep it from spilling over.
When it did, it felt catastrophic.
Peter would break down and empty his tears onto his own shoulders. He held himself together even when the pieces were falling apart and it was admirable. He wrapped his arms around himself and cried on the cold floor of the lab. He would cry just out of Tony’s arm-reach. He melted contrary to the cement and tugged on his curls in clammy hands.
Tony was waiting for the next catastrophe, for the next volcano to explode at his feet. It was just another thing he would barely be able to fix. He didn’t want to cause the blow-up this time, there’s nothing for Peter to grasp on this damn ship. It’s too miserable to be grounding.
He needed Peter to sleep, last time he woke up in the next fifteen minutes screaming his lungs out and shaking so hard Tony thought he was having a seizure. The thing was, Tony also needed to sleep. It’d been too long and they all know. Peter knows, Strange knows, Tony feels it for fuck’s sake. Sleep is an old friend to hero’s, so Tony doesn’t really know why it’s so foreign.
But he does know. Tony is well accustomed to his own sleepless nights and zombie-like treks into the lab at all times past two am when Pepper is fast asleep. He would never admit it, but he made a habit to watch Peter’s patrol through Karen’s eyes for safety- at least, that’s what he tells himself. It's not at all to live vicariously through Peter’s success and make sure he slips through his bedroom window unscathed. There’s been a few times (once a week with Peter’s recklessness) where Tony’s strapped on the suit and ran a metallic hand through his sweaty and sometimes bloody curls to soothe the teenage vigilante. He thinks if he keeps the suit on he’ll be less attached when he tucks Peter into his twin bed after stitching him up. It fails, and Tony can’t bring himself to care because God, Tony’s sure he’s hung the sun with his constellation freckles and shy smile.
There was one time, one of the only times Tony picked up Peter’s pieces, the one time he allowed himself to be rocked like the child he was.
Peter had slipped through the elevator doors as soon as they opened, ripped mask in one had and tears dripping down his cheeks in absolute misery. Tony can remember the way his chest clamped at the dirt, blood and tears mixing like paint on his skin when he shook in sobs. He hadn’t even taken off his suit before throwing himself into his mentor’s shoulders and gripping like iron on his white tank top, now stained with red.
Peter was practically screaming when his words were caught in his throat. “I fell! I fell and I couldn’t- I couldn’t- I was so scared! It hurts, Mister Stark…”
Tony led them both to the bathroom when Peter was stable enough to move his legs. He sat on the edge of the tub as the older man worked through the teen’s wounds one by one, making sure each was tended to with a doctor’s precision.
In all fairness, he’d only seen Peter cry four times, four times counting the times Tony’s heart has broken for him.
This is the fifth.
“Hey…” Tony whispered, moving to sit in front of the teenager. He had barely noticed his sniffling and light trembling, wouldn’t have if Strange didn’t smack the back of his head in warning. “Hey, you're okay.”
Peter hunched over further and buried his face deeper in his hands. There was spit pooling between his legs, a sign of the loss of control. Tony would fix this one though, he had to. There’s nowhere for Peter to fix himself here, no anchor to the world.
Tony cupped the teenager’s cheek with his rough hand, brushing away tears with his cracked thumb. It was the grounding Peter needed even if he didn’t want it. His aunt told him that it helped him when nothing else would.
Peter pushed himself into Tony, wrapping his too-thin arms around the older man and holding tight. Their ribs crammed together uncomfortably and he couldn’t help but notice how much weight and muscle the teen had lost. But that was a problem for another day considering this situation. When at the compound, Tony made sure Peter ate at least one fulfilling meal and sometimes had groceries sent to his apartment.
“M'sorry…” Peter choked out. His words made Tony’s blood run cold but he forced himself not to keep his cool. The last thing they needed was two panicking superheroes on the world’s smallest fucking spaceship. “I’m sorry you can’t sleep because of me, it’s all my fault m'sorry-”
“It’s not your fault, kid.”
God, Tony’s voice was cracking under the pressure of Peter's guilt complex.
He rocked them slowly, holding Peter so close their heart beats were synced by the time he was sleepy and half-lidded. Tony’s heart hurt for him, it hurt for the both of them. Holding him felt like grasping a grenade, reading to blow at anytime.
“Sing.” Peter croaked.
Tony let out a small sigh that would have been a chuckle if it was any louder. “Pete, you know I can't sing.”
Despite his puffy eyes and swollen lips he let a small smile across his face. “Liar.” He coughed and ran a hand up to Tony’s neck and held it there. “‘I can’t sleep without music and Quill turned it off so people could sleep and-” He cut himself. “My mom used to sing to me. I can’t… will you, Tony?”
Tony let his head rest against Peter’s in defeat. Being compared to a parental figure to the kid always made him weak. He started rocking them again, running a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back like a dad would with his child.
“What did she sing to you?”
-
They ended off like that. Peter wrapped around his mentor like his life depended on it and Tony never stopped rocking them even after the kid fell asleep. Not like he would ever mind, holding him was something to keep his own anxiety at bay and something he could make right. He pretended his heart didn't inflate when the teenager let out a small whine when Tony's hands rubbed against his scalp.
Peter clung to the back of his track-outfit like Tony would ever let him fall apart again. Tragedies like that didn't happen to those who weren't heroes, and Tony is sure that the kid in his arms is exactly that.