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It takes a month for Tony to notice something’s wrong.
It’s been a month since Peter’s death was reversed, and Tony just now noticed something’s wrong.
I guess you could it boil it down to ‘he’s a bad father (-figure).’
_________
A week after Peter is brought back and carefully swaddled in blankets on Tony’s couch, Tony notices that the kid carries around one of his blankets.
It’s a ratty, old thing that smells like stale whiskey (from worse times – before Peter) and is covered in not-a-few stains (nothing disgusting, mind you). Pepper gave it to Tony a few months after her initial signing as his personal assistant, claiming, “ you needed some blankets to make your house a home.” At the time, he thought it irrational and used it only when he was having a bad day.
Now, it seems, the old thing has a new owner. Pepper notices every night when she comes home from the office. She tucks it further around Peter’s shoulders, plants a quick kiss on the his head, and passes to change into her sweatpants and slippers.
Honestly, Tony just thought the blanket thing was similar to how children carry around a teddy bear when they’re, like, two. One night he asked Pete about it, and the kid shrugged it off.
“I can buy you a new one. You don’t gotta use that old thing. Pepper gave me that years ago.”
“I like it,” Peter said plainly, shrugging. The blanket was tightened around his shoulders as he said so. The motion seemed protective, like the old cloth was going to be stolen from him. Tony just stretched his hand to ruffle the kid’s hair lightly, ignoring the way Peter’s soft flinch made his heart twinge.
“Alright, but let it be washed with tomorrow’s laundry. It smells of booze.” Tony paused, his eyes crinkling with a smile, “my fault.”
“I don’t mind it.” Peter doesn’t seem to have anything else to say after that.
Tony draws his hand away and lets it fall to his side.
_________
Two weeks after Peter is brought back, Tony sees the kid biting his nails.
It started as a small thing. Tony would see the kid pick at his thumb and gently slap his hand away from his mouth. He usually followed this up with a joke.
“You’re gonna lose all your nails there, Pete.”
“What? Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing it.” Peter drops his hand and wipes the spots of blood on his blanket. Tony watches him do so, idly wondering if the blanket’s been washed yet.
“You gonna stain my blanket too?”
“Sorry, Mr. Stark!” Peter jumps off the couch and runs the blanket to the kitchen sink, throwing it under the hot water. He recoils with a hiss as it hits his hand. Tony rushed forward to inspect the burns.
“Hey, you alright, kid?” He flips Peter’s hands and notes the way the nails have been chewed to shreds. Deciding not to comment on them (he’s pretty sure Peter’s not in the mood for a little lecture), he reaches behind the kid to turn off the water.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles. The blanket is partially soaked now, and Peter looks at it. His shoulders tense briefly. “I’ll just hang it up to dry. The blood’s probably gone now.” He pulls his hands away from Tony and gathers up his blanket (it’s far, far too big for him).
Tony watches him stumble to the living room.
_________
Three weeks after Peter’s brought back, the nightmares start.
The kid’s always had nightmares, always about his Uncle Ben or Aunt May, so Tony honestly doesn’t think much more of them. It’s become habit for him to wake up in the middle of the night (or, more recently, stay awake) and rush into Peter’s room to pull him into an awkward hug. The kid sobs and shakes as he struggles to explain what happened in the nightmares each night, and Tony tries to soothe him.
“Shush, Pete. You don’t gotta tell me. Just breathe, okay?” Peter would never answer, but stops trying to tell Tony what’d happened. Now, he just curls against Tony’s side and digs his fingers into whatever shirt Tony is wearing as he tries to catch his breath. Tony always feels warm when he does that.
Maybe he’s just selfish.
Tony will brush the curls off Peter’s sweaty forehead as he struggles to pull Peter into a more comfortable hug. Some nights, however, Peter is violent.
Tony shuffles in the room and quietly tries to soothe the kid by waking him with a gentle shake, moving to curl into the bed with him, and Peter will claw his way out of his grip. He scratches (he doesn’t really have fingernails that can hurt anymore) and scrambles to get away from Tony, his body a wreck of shivers.
Sometimes, Tony has to wrestle Peter into his hold to get him to stop yanking at his own hair, pulling at it like it will snap him out of his fear. The screaming is the worst. Peter will scream in absolute terror, the sound gut-wrenching, and throw himself to the other side of the bed. Away from Tony. Am I the monster?
It takes a while for Peter’s eyes to clear up, the confusion and fear gone, and he chooses to crush himself against Tony in a smothering apology. His throat is too destroyed to say anything, so he just attaches himself to Tony’s side and curls his fist into the man’s shirt.
Those nights, Tony is reminded how he’s a bad father (-figure). (He would never call Pete his kid - he obviously wouldn’t want him to.)
After Peter is calmed, he will silently detach himself from Tony’s side and sink into his mountain of blankets (more had joined the first).
Tony gets up and leaves the room.
_________
A month after Peter’s brought back, the panic attacks start.
Usually, they’re short and sweet. He sees something that reminds him of Titan – of space and the war he wasn’t meant to fight – and he’ll start breathing heavily. His hands shake and he curls them into fists, the blanket is wrapped more firmly around his shoulders, and he cries. Tony sits next to him and talk about things that are not related to the attack, rubbing his back in slow circles.
Pepper thinks Tony needs to put the kid into therapy. He needs it. He does, and Tony knows it. But he’s already considered himself a bad father (-figure), and Peter already declined the offer, so Tony just tucks his feet up on the couch next to Peter, turns on Star Wars, and talks shit about the plot-holes.
“This isn’t even a plot hole,” Tony begins, the blanket scratchy on his hand as he rubs comforting circles on Peter’s shaking back, “but why the fuck do the Stormtroopers always miss? Solo is right there? He’s literally right there.” He points for emphasis and Peter follows the direction of his hand to the screen. A smile briefly twitches his lips. A better attack then.
“I-It’s science fiction,” Peter retorts. Tony ignores the stuttering (he’s learned that’s another way to just throw his progress backwards) and opens his palm in exasperation as Han Solo dodges yet another laser-bullet-thing.
“It’s dumb. Anyone could’ve made that shot.” Pete just sends him a watery smile and draws his ragged blanket closer. Tony keeps rubbing his back, well-aware of the bumps he can feel on his spine. Not eating enough. Gotta tell Pepper this one. She’s gonna freak.
Twenty minutes later, Tony drops his hand and Peter shoves his legs onto Tony’s lap.
_________
It takes one month, four days, and several nights of sleeplessness for Peter to finally tell Tony what’s wrong.
It’s nothing he didn’t already know. He knows the tell-tale signs of PTSD. Hell, he struggles with it every damn day. But he wanted Peter to tell him. To come clean – to ask for help. It’s what he needed to do. Shoving the kid into a therapist’s office and a handful of pills wasn’t going to help the kid grow from his trauma. It’d just hide it.
Then again, Tony’s never been good at handling his own problems. He’s probably just wrong.
“Mr. Stark?” Tony glances over at Peter one day while tinkering on a new suit. It’s nearly finished, but it’s not like anyone but Tony could see that. Parts were strewn around the lab haphazardly. Peter hugs his blanket tighter, his chewed fingernails digging into the scratchy material. “Can we talk?”
Tony tosses his screwdriver onto the nearest table and wipes his hands on his work cloth. “Yeah, Pete, what’s up?” Peter’s eyes flick around the room, full of internalized panic. Dread creeps up Tony’s spine.
“I think,” the kid pauses, swallows, and continues. “I think I need help?” His tone raises in a question as he drops his eyes to Tony’s new suit and back up to settle them on his mentor’s face. “I don’t know what to do.”
Tony moves to gently wrap his arm around Peter’s bicep and tugs him towards a couch he had put in the lab so Peter could sit and talk to Tony as he works. After settling on the couch and tucking his socked feet under his body, Peter twists to look at Tony, determined. “I need help,” he repeats.
“Alright, but you’re going to have to give me more to work on than just that, Pete.”
“I-” Peter scrambles for a place to begin. “I can’t sleep, at night, and-” Tony keeps quiet as the kid tries to sputter his way through this. He needs to be able to say it (at least, he thinks the kid’s supposed to). “I think I need help,” Peter just says lamely. It takes a couple of pauses for him to continue.
“Ever since what happened with Thanos, I can’t stop thinking about it. Dying. I’m scared, Mr. Stark. I can’t–” he waves his hand around in an attempt to explain, “I don’t know what to do.”
Tony moves to wrap the kid in a crushing hug. “Just saying it, Pete, is a good start.” That’s all the kid needs to spill everything left unsaid.
“I keep using this blanket to hide, because I feel like he’s gonna get me. I can’t stop biting my nails because if I do, then I won’t know if I can still bleed or if I’m still dust.” Tony tightens his grip at that one. “The nightmares,” Peter chokes out, “are always of him. Titan. The snap. You–”
It feels like a cold slap to the face, but he should’ve expected it, honestly. Of course Peter is terrified of him. He’s a monster. He let Peter die. Let him fade into dust– didn’t help him– let him fall–
“–you dying.” Peter finishes, snatching Tony’s attention. “Mr. Stark, I don’t want you to die.” Somehow, in Peter’s confession, he’d pressed closer to Tony so he could curl that fingernail-bitten wrist into his sweaty, dirty shirt.
“I’m not going to die, you hear me? I’m right here.”
Peter falls asleep curled next to Tony, his face stained with tears. Tony drops his hand from the kid’s back. After a moment’s thought, he decides to put it back.
_________
Tony Stark may be a bad father (figure), but as he moves to wrap the blanket around both him and his kid, he feels like everything will be alright. He might not know what to do about his own PTSD, let alone Peter’s, but they’ll get there somehow, someday. Tomorrow, he’ll ask Peter about joint therapy.
They’ll get through it. Together.
Maybe he’s not so bad of a father after all.
(He’s never been right before.)