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A knot in his chest. It always started with that tight feeling under his breastbone that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he took a deep breath.
Peter laid in bed, staring at the blinking light coming from his laptop charger, the only point of light in his dark room. It was the umpteenth position he had tried in the past hour; sprawled on his stomach, limbs stretched out as far as the wall would allow, face pressed to the edge of his mattress as he focused on the pinpoint of orange light.
Sleep never came easily when anxiety took hold; it was usually because of school that he became anxious, especially near exams or when he had a big test coming up, though his grades rarely fell below a B+. Then there was that time when Ned had appendicitis and he wasn’t allowed to see him because only immediate family were allowed visiting privileges. Peter didn’t sleep for two nights while his best friend had his ruptured appendix removed and an additional day in hospital for recovery time. Though he was allowed to text, written words on a small screen were nothing compared to actually seeing that Ned was alright.
Sometimes the anxiety came for no apparent reason. Sometimes everything at school and his personal life was fine and relatively stress free, or maybe it had been building up little by little. Then Peter would have a long, sleepless night of alternating between different positions and looking at his phone.
This is where he was now, though he had a better reason for it than everyday buildup. Stephen had been called on a mission in an entirely different dimension, something to do with a threat on Earth, not this Earth, but still his duty nonetheless. Peter couldn't help the dry tightness in his throat as he thought of how truly far away Stephen was, a hot tear squeezing from the corner of his eye as he rolled over to look up at the ceiling. It was just stress and sleep-deprivation, he told himself, swiping quickly at his wet cheek, though there was no one to see it.
His relationship with Stephen had quickly blossomed once he had moved into the Sanctum. Once they got past the initial awkwardness, it was hard not to fall into a certain level of comfort with someone you saw everyday, especially in the morning when levels of awakeness, hair, and dress were questionable. Many a morning had been spent milling around the coffee machine and tea pot, asking about each other’s plans for the day, Stephen offering gentle advice to the groggy teen where necessary. He wasn’t used to having company in the morning, what with Tony either dead asleep or in a workshop trance, but had quickly grown accustomed to the sorcerer’s quiet presence in the morning, the scent of tea, and often a homemade breakfast sandwich shoved into the teen’s tired hands.
A new wave of anxiety-mixed worry flooded Peter’s chest, groaning into his pillow as these thoughts reminded him that Stephen wouldn’t be there tomorrow morning. Today. He lifted his head and hit the home button on his phone to confirm. 4:17 a.m. It was a Tuesday night…no, Wednesday morning then, and the rest of the week loomed before him like an imposing wall. He closed his eyes again, willing sleep to come, then realized how tense he was and tried to let sleep come to him. His enhanced senses didn’t let him tune out from his own consciousness; the huge clock in the hall ticked ominously in the thick dark of the night, an alarm beeped once somewhere in the Sanctum, the coffee maker or something in Tony’s workshop. Cars passed on the quiet street outside with a flash of head lights; Peter noticed this with a mix of annoyance and empathy, other people up at this time, but probably by choice thanks to a night shift. He was lost in his thoughts again, thinking about what types of jobs would warrant such work hours, or what those people could be up to if they weren’t working. Picking someone up from the airport, committing crime, or fighting insomnia like he was.
He looked at his phone again. 4:56 a.m. He’d gone to bed around 11:00 pm and was pretty sick of laying in his bed by now, conscious, having tried every possible position, forcing himself to stay in one position for as long as he could bear. He thought he heard Tony rummaging in the kitchen at one point around 3:00, but convinced himself it was just his imagination. Peter flipped onto his back again, considering scrolling through Instagram, but settled for clasping his hands over his chest and slowing his breathing. He closed his eyes, though he had never felt more awake in his life and he had once drank six Red Bulls consecutively.
His mind wandered again, as it had many times that night, to one of the few times Stephen had come home with serious injuries. Despite how powerful he was, there was always bound to be one being or another which matched or surpassed his strength, especially in another dimension. The worst time was one night when Peter and Tony were in the living room, half watching the tv when a jagged portal opened and Stephen fell through, bleeding profusely and barely conscious. An ambulance had rushed him to the med bay at the Avengers compound. Usually, he would have just portalled himself directly there, in Bruce’s care, and sent Tony a nonchalant text. This time, he was barely conscious enough to think properly, something in his blacked out mind telling him to open the portal at home, safe with his family. Peter remembered the ambulance ride distinctly, Tony’s face drawn and tight like it was when he didn’t want to say how worried he was. Four hours, two litres of blood, and several IVs later saw the sorcerer, proud and pale, sleeping in a hospital bed as Tony paced the length of the room, over, and over, and over, like a trapped animal. Peter stood by the bed, it felt wrong to sit, holding his step dad’s colder-than-usual hand. He’d seen him in hospital before, sure, but he’d never looked so small and vulnerable, so close to death. Peter shoved the thought away.
He checked his phone. 5:28 am. He’d had enough. With a huff, he pushed the covers off with his feet, fumbling in the dark for a sweatshirt from the pile on his chair. He creeped into the kitchen, the small light over the oven lighting his way to the fridge. His mind provided one, primal thought: chocolate milk. He poured a large glass and downed it while leaning against the island, trying not to think about how the drink was the only thing Stephen had a sweet tooth for. Peter closed the carton and returned it to the shelf, shutting the fridge door and staring at it in the dark. He shivered against the cool marble of the countertop, his heart spiking in anxiety as he heard a muffled bang from the hall. His thudding heart slowed as Tony stumbled into the living room from the direction of his and Stephen’s bedroom, sleep-exhausted face illuminated in the light of his tablet.
“Dad-“, Peter managed to get out before Tony saw him and jumped, clutching his chest with one hand.
“For God’s sake, kid. You scared the bejeezus out of me.” Surprise flickered out of his eyes as he took in Peter’s appearance, the time of morning, and the cup with remnants of chocolate milk.
“Did you sleep at all?” He dropped onto the sofa, pulling his slippered feet up as he gestured for Peter to sit.
“Did you?”, Peter countered, surprising himself with how defensive he sounded. “Sorry.” He pressed his head against the back cushions as he sat on the other end of the sofa. “Just worried about Dad.”
“Me too. But he’ll be fine.” Tony returned absently to his tablet, but Peter could tell he wasn’t really doing anything. Tony could spend all the livelong day talking about how much he cared about his family, but he hated to talk about how he worried for them, like it might make their endangerment more real. Peter studied his face quietly, a tiny flicker of sadness crossing the man’s face as he pretended to type something.
“You can’t say that. I’m not a little kid. Remember that time he-.”
“Pete”, Tony cut him off with a haunted look, eyes serious but pleading in the blue glow of his screen. He kept eye contact with Peter for a minute, watched as the teen tucked his knees up under his oversized hoodie, hugged his legs, and buried his face in the cushions as he relaxed in their softness miserably.
“Do you want to talk about it, then?” Tony dropped his tablet on the table to show he was open for a real conversation. “I don’t want to…but if you have to, then I’m here.” Peter felt tears well in his eyes suddenly as he sat up a little, letting his foot bump Tony’s.
“I just can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, I know he can protect himself most of the time, but…he’s just…” He stopped, looking at the far corner of the room in the dark, his vision obscured by tears. His voice was small when he spoke again. “I just…I can’t lose him, Dad. I’ve already lost-.” This time he cut himself off. The list ran through his head. His mom, his dad, Uncle Ben, Aunt May. He took a breath and made himself say it as Tony watched him with a pained expression, wanting to hold him, but letting him speak.
“I-I’ve already lost two sets of parents”, Peter croaked wetly through hot tears. “I know I can’t handle losing you guys, too.” There was silence as Peter sat quietly, letting tears stream down his face freely as he stared blankly into the dark, not moving. Tony’s chest clenched, seeing how alone Peter looked, how he felt like people were bound to die on him any second.
“Pete-.”
“And your jobs.” The look on the teen’s face was pained, as if he had suddenly gained the weight of a hundred years worth of responsibility. “Being an Avenger and the Sorcerer Supreme; that’s the most dangerous thing you could ever do.” The steady stream of tears running down his face made him pause to wipe them. “I mean, we might get you to retire one day, but with Dad, that’s it. His job is for life and the shit he has to do…” He trailed off and Tony thought he might be able to say something.
“Pete, we’re as safe as possible with our tech and his magic. I know it’s dangerous, but we’re always extremely careful, especially now that we have you.” Peter’s head whipped up, eyes glistening.
“No, you’re not. Especially not you. Even when you’ve had me in the past, you’ve still been so reckless-.”
“Peter, come one.” He was used to hearing this from Pepper over the years, and sometimes Stephen, but never had his kid spoken about his profession like this.
“No, it’s true!”, Peter retorted. “And don’t start talking about your tech, because it’s been proven in the past that that’s not going to save you in every situation.” Tony realized his heart was hammering in his chest as Peter subtly brought up the wormhole incident.
“I’m not making excuses, I’m just saying that your dad and I are completely equipped to do our jobs as safely as possible.” He leaned forward and rested a calming hand on Peter’s shin. “And we are more careful since you’ve been in our lives. Even me.” The teen regarded him with quiet skepticism, noting the spark of sincerity in his dad’s eyes, but pulling his leg away slightly. When he spoke again his voice was quiet, crushed.
“I lost Ben and May and their jobs had nothing to do with it. Their jobs were safe and normal and they still left me.”
“Stephen and I are not leaving you”, Tony said quickly. “Not by choice or by accident.”
“You can’t promise that”, Peter muttered miserably into his hoodie. Tony leaned back, regarding the teen with quiet defeat.
“No, I’m sorry, kiddo. I can’t. We can’t. But it’s our job as parents to worry about you, not the other way around. You do the exact same thing, Avenging… a very keyed down version admittedly, but the same thing as us. And, yeah, occasionally I run around and give you lectures because I’m worried and the dad instincts kick in and tell me to take that suit away forever, but I would never do that. No matter how much I worry, I also trust you to be safe to the best of your abilities.” He looked down at his hands and back up at Peter again, who looked at him when he did that. “Do you think you could do that for Stephen and me? Trust us a bit. And try to leave the worrying to us?”
“It’s not that simple”, Peter said hoarsely, pausing as he picked at a stray thread on the sleeve of his hoodie. His heart thudded painfully when he saw the look Tony was giving him; brown eyes wide and pleading with worry, dropping his gaze to his wedding band and twirling it on his finger slowly.
“I just want you to be able to sleep, kid. And not have that gnawing feeling every time Stephen or I go on a mission. I know what that feels like. When he leaves and it’s the two of us, I know what you’re going through, ‘cause I’m thinking the same things. I gather all these horrible, made-up scenarios in my head and I try to ignore them because I’ve gotta be here for you, and…I’ve got to trust him a little bit, don’t I?”
Peter didn’t say anything, but nodded twice into the crook of his elbow. They sat quietly for a minute before Peter realized how hungry he was and stood, though he’d probably just end up drinking more chocolate milk. He heard a creak behind him as Tony stood from the sofa as well. He clapped a hand on the teens’ shoulder as he passed by, giving him a soft grin.
“Eggs?”, he asked as they walked into the kitchen.
“Sure. Thanks”, Peter muttered, pulling himself onto a stool at the island. The marble countertop was cold through the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Tony turned on the light above the stove, grabbing eggs and a pan as he turned to Peter.
“Fried, scrambled, poached, boiled? Any preference?”
“Scrambled. Please.”
“Sure.”
Tony turned back to the stove and Peter watched his movements like some sort of soothing play; methodical and deliberate, but easy as he cracked and whisked, heating the pan and cutting a dab of butter into it.
“Anything fun going on today?”, Tony asked as he grabbed a block of cheese from the fridge.
“It’s high school, Dad”, Peter replied in form of an answer.
“Yeah, high school was boring as hell. Just gotta finish, though, and you can do whatever you want.”
“I know.” A few minutes of silence passed as the eggs sizzled quietly. “You got anything good on for today?”
“Uh, yeah. Bruce and I are meeting at the compound to go over some upgrades for everyone.”
Peter ‘hhmm’d’ his acknowledgment, tracing the pattern in the marble with one finger. He shared Stephen’s opinion that Tony should stop doing so much for the Avengers after how they had treated him, but Tony was reluctant to budge, for fear he might be blamed for splitting a friendship up. This being said, Peter also never refused to hang out in the lab with Doctor Banner and his dad; an hour spent listening and watching them work was more valuable than an entire month of sitting in a high school classroom.
“Can I come?”, he tried.
“School”, Tony replied shortly. He turned just in time for the crestfallen expression which crossed Peter’s face. “We’re meeting again Friday afternoon. You can come then if you want.”
“That’d be great.”
Tony finished making the scrambled eggs in relative silence, grating cheese while Peter watched quietly. Peter noticed the sun beginning to rise, just becoming visible over the tops of the shorter apartment and office buildings. The sky was still pretty dark, save for the tinge of yellow and pink becoming visible on the horizon, setting a warm glow to the black silhouettes of the buildings.
“Chuck me my sweater from the desk?”, Tony asked as he poured two glasses of orange juice. Peter spun around on the stool, landing on the floor with a soft plop, grabbing the navy cable knit from the back of the chair. He failed to mention how it was actually Stephen’s sweater which Tony had adopted, handing it over to him while grabbing the cups of juice.
Peter managed to open the sliding glass door with one foot as he stepped out onto the Sanctum’s tiny balcony. Tony followed with the plates, depositing them both on the small glass table, before going back inside. He returned with his coffee and a wool blanket which he laid over Peter’s lap as the teen sank into the lone, cushioned Adirondack chair. It was were Stephen would read on many a mild morning, tea perched on the arm of the chair, glasses perched on his nose, one of the few times he would read for pleasure. Peter was grateful for the blanket as there was still a frosty feeling to the morning air, condensation dripping off the wrought iron railing as the sun hit it. He took the plate of cheesy scrambled eggs Tony offered with a “Thanks”, Tony humming in response as he settled into the wicker chair at the table, cupping his hands around his mug. Peter watched him for a second as his dad enjoyed the view, looking out over the city peacefully, eyes half closed in the bliss of hot coffee and a fresh morning. Peter’s heart ached a little, grateful to have him, someone who could understand his anxiety and insomnia better than anyone, looking soft, kind, and a little grey in his husband’s over-sized sweater. Tony must have noticed his gaze, glancing sideways to catch Peter’s eye, but only grinned quietly.
“Your eggs are getting cold”, Peter told him, gesturing to the plate on the table. “They’re really good.” Tony complied by lifting his fork, but only took a few bites before turning his attention back to his coffee.
Peter almost forgot how tired he was as the hot food warmed him from the inside out, making him feel a little less weary. Stephen’s absence was still acute as they sat, in his sweater and on his chair, but the warm glow of the early morning gave Peter a little comfort, as it was so much more reassuring than the dark of the early hours.
They watched the sun rise without any need for words, sunlight reflected off the dew-covered glass of buildings as far as the eye could see. Peter’s legs became comfortably numb as he sat cross-legged in the chair, huddling in his hoodie and wool blanket as tightly as he could. Tony yawned a few times, Peter stifling his own each time. When the sun was halfway up the tallest building in view, Tony shifted in his seat and shoved the door open slightly.
“You got the time for me, FRIDAY?”, Tony asked the AI.
“6:42 a.m., boss”, came the crisp, Irish reply.
“Thanks, FRI.” He turned to Peter. “Better get hustling, Underoos.”
“I’m not usually up ‘till seven”, Peter muttered, reluctant to leave his warm cocoon and the quiet mini sanctuary they had up here.
“Yeah, and you’re almost late every morning”, Tony laughed. “Get going.” Peter groaned as he stood, letting his forehead drop onto his dad’s shoulder.
“Don’t wanna.”
“I know. But Doctor Dad should be home tonight. We’ll have tacos.” This spurred Peter into motion as he straightened, grabbing his plate from the arm of the Adirondack chair.
“Hey”, Tony reminded him, pursing his lips with a miffed, expectant look. Peter ducked his head so his cheek was in range, receiving his obligatory peck before standing straight again.
“Love you.”
“Love you too, kid.”
Peter shut the sliding door behind himself before he dumped his plate in the sink and went to the bathroom to shower. Having left his tablet inside, Tony continued to enjoy the sunrise as he sipped his coffee, eyeing the remaining eggs on his plate before realizing how cold they were. Half an hour later, Peter stuck his head back out the door, showered and fully dressed with a light coat on, hair a tousled mess.
“Bye, Dad. Text me if he gets home early.”
“I will”, Tony assured him. “Have a good day, bud.”
“You too.” The glass door slid shut again and Tony felt a sliver of loneliness slide into place in his chest. He made himself stay seated; pacing wouldn’t do him any good, and his eyes were already fried from using his tablet all night. His mug had lost most of its pleasant heat and he was debating whether he should get up for another cup, his sixth since midnight, when he heard the glass door slide open.
“Pete, I thought you left.”
“It’s not Peter”, a familiar voice rumbled behind him and Tony felt his heart jolt in joy, excitement, relief, every positive emotion flooding his shot nerves. He stood and turned at the same time to see a travel-weary sorcerer standing just outside the door. Stephen gave him a tired, relieved smile and held his arms out, receiving his husband’s embrace with a grateful sigh.
“Steph”, Tony managed to breath as his face cracked into a grin, burying his head against the sorcerer’s dusty robes, holding him in his arms, solid and warm. He pulled back, taking in his husband’s eye bags, greasy hair, blood and dirt-stained cheeks, and tattered robes.
“You look like shit, babe.”
“I know”, Stephen said, voice rusty as he sank into the chair opposite Tony’s. “It was a long week.” He looked up at Tony with a grin, loving light sparking in his blue-green eyes. “I’m just glad to be home.” Tony smiled back, heart aching a little as he leaned down and pressed their lips together, tasting blood and salt, but not caring as he pressed into his husband’s mouth. Stephen grabbed his hand as they kissed softly, holding him, making sure he was real.
“You’re freezing”, he muttered against Tony’s cheek. Before his husband could retort, the sorcerer levitated the wool blanket over from where Peter had been sitting earlier, wrapping it around his shoulders with trembling hands. This made Levi jealous, leaving Stephen’s shoulders to perch on Tony’s, fussing at his own messy hair and eye bags.
“Enough, Lev”, Tony snorted good-naturedly, patting away the cloak’s collar.
“Come back here”, Stephen convinced the cloak when they didn’t respond, tapping his right shoulder twice with his fingers. “I’m cold too.” If the cloak could sigh, they would have, skeptically regarding Tony for a moment before sliding back around Stephen’s shoulders.
“Good week?”, he asked Tony as he began to pick at the plate of scrambled eggs, obviously too hungry to care that they were cold. Tony shrugged as he scrunched his nose at the eggs.
“It was alright. Working on some team suit updates.” He paused. “Pete and I were worried about you.”
“Sorry”, Stephen breathed, though he couldn’t help it. He watched Tony’s expression for a moment, thumb rubbing over the back of his husband’s hand. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you?”
“Neither did Pete. But we’re okay.” He smiled reassuringly, but it was weak and fell short as Stephen’s gaze pierced right through his small lie. “He’s just likes to worry about his Doctor Dad.”
“So do you”, Stephen said gently, leaning forward to kiss Tony’s forehead. When his husband didn’t respond, he switched tactics. “I didn’t sleep much either. We can be tired messes together, hmm? You have plans today?”
“Meeting with Bruce at 8:30 to go over the team upgrades.” He ignored Stephen’s gentle snarl. “We’ll probably be there until after lunch, about one?”
“Yeah, you go geek out with Bruce, I’ve got some stuff to take care of here. And Wong’ll want to talk about where I screwed up this week.” Tony smiled, letting his hand rest on Stephen’s.
“Aren’t you his boss?” Stephen smirked, giving a sideways look and a shrug.
“Technically.”
They met in a kiss and Tony couldn’t help but smile again. “I’m making dinner tonight. Tacos good?”
“Perfect.” Stephen noticed his sweater on his husband, smiling as he gripped his forearm gently.
“Peter will want to know you’re home. He wanted me to text him, but maybe you could drop by his school?”
“I was thinking the same thing. Maybe I’ll bring him a coffee while I’m at it. Poor kid has to be absolutely wiped if he was up all night.” Tony’s eyes widened.
“Wow. You must feel bad for him if you’re condoning caffeine”, he grinned. Stephen gave him a tired smile, pressing several kisses to his husband’s forehead before standing.
“I’m going to go take a shower, and you better get ready to go soon too, right?” Tony nodded, glancing at his watch. 7:48 a.m. He wanted to stay, join Stephen in the shower to sleepily lather him with soap and gentle kisses, lay in bed with him for a few hours, drink stupidly healthy smoothies while they lazed around and read for the rest of the afternoon. But his obligations wrestled for priority in his mind and he pushed away his simple fantasies for the time being.
“I’m gonna make a sandwich for you two, I don’t think the kid made much of a lunch for himself.” He followed Stephen through the sliding glass doors, taking his now empty plate into the kitchen.
“Thanks, sweetheart. Make one for yourself too?”, Stephen prompted with a raised brow as he slid around the corner into the bathroom. Tony just chuckled shortly as he grabbed a loaf of bread from the fridge, reaching down to the bottom shelf for a cutting board as he sang a line of a Rolling Stones song under his breath. Stephen was constantly prompting him to eat, trying to build a habit of regular meals which Tony had lost sometime in the past twenty years.
Stephen came back down the hall fifteen minutes later, hair damp and ruffled after he’d towel-dried it, having thrown on a soft, long cardigan over his long sleeve t-shirt. Levi was a tastefully full scarf draped around his broad shoulders. Tony noticed his choice of dark skinny jeans with an appreciative smirk, handing him two sandwiches in baggies and a kiss.
“Should be illegal for you to go out looking like that”, he purred, the back of his mind telling him that he might be able to convince both of them to drop their plans.
“I’m a mess”, Stephen retorted with an affectionate rasp to his voice, still looking tired, but lighter and warmer, like being safely home affected his entire aura.
“Bye, babe”, Tony muttered and watched him disappear down the front steps to the foyer of the Sanctum, hearing the heavy front doors creak open and close behind him. Tony sighed, looking around the kitchen, feeling rather small and alone. He was beyond relieved Stephen was home safely, but frustrated also, wishing they’d had more time to talk. He’d had the conversation with Peter that he hadn’t wanted, and had failed to talk with Stephen about what they should have. The never ending conversation that had hung in the air since that day on Titan: they were never truly safe having the jobs they did. Tony wouldn’t be out of danger until he retired, which wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon and Stephen didn’t have the option of retirement, just a long, strenuous life as the Sorcerer Supreme which would likely end less than peacefully. Tony tried not to think too far into the future; no need to pile onto his mountain of anxiety, but sometimes he wished they could talk about it.
Shaking such thoughts from his head, for the time being at least, he swiped his phone from the island.
Heads up. DD coming in. North stairwell.
He pressed send on the text to Peter and his chest lightened thinking of the teen’s reaction to seeing his dad appear in a flash of sparkling gateway in a quiet corner of the school. He’d race to receive a bear hug and his sandwich, beaming in his excitement and relief as Stephen was quickly caught up on the past week, listening to his boy ramble with a soft, tired grin creasing his smile lines.
Maybe the future was fraught with uncertainty, but one thing was concrete for now: they had each other.