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After everyone came back from the Snap, it was different.
Tony Stark had saved the world, and now everyone seemed to be holding their breath, wondering what had happened to the hero.
Some thought he was dead. Some thought he was alive.
And then the press conference happened—the formidable Ms. Potts had shown up, a tired but grateful expression gracing her face.
“I know you all have many questions,” Pepper started calmly, “but there are some statements I’d like to make first.
The crowd watched with bated breath as she spoke, journalists poised with their pens as news anchors streamed the conference.
“First, I’m grateful to say that Tony is alive,” she stopped, “and second is that he’s now retired from being Iron Man.”
A second passed by as people processed Pepper’s words, before questions exploded from every end of the room.
“Will someone else take over Iron Man then?”
“Why isn’t Tony Stark here then?”
“What happens if—”
Pepper raised her hand, silence falling among the crowd again.
“I’ll keep this brief.” She paused, “Tony wasn’t able to make an appearance today, and I ask that you respect his privacy.”
Pepper’s heart twisted when she remembered the sight of her husband, lying so still on the hospital bed—but he was alive and that’s what truly mattered.
“Who will defend us then?” A journalist asked, and Pepper stared straight at her.
“There are other heroes I trust will help,” she answered.
And then she took a deep breath.
“Iron Man may be retired, but Tony Stark is alive.”
When everyone came back, the world changed and adapted just like it had the last time—and now, now, it’d have to adapt once more.
—
Peter first met Morgan a few days after the battle had ended—he wanted to stay by Mr. Stark but Pepper had insisted he go to May first, honey, I know you’re worried, but Tony’ll be okay, and I’ll let you know everything, okay?
“Are you Spider-Man?”
Peter turned around, his eyes landing on a girl that could’ve been no older than five, and her brown eyes were strikingly familiar as they stared back at him.
“It depends,” he smiles, “can you keep a secret?”
She firmly nods her head, even holding out her pinky finger to him, “I pinky swear it.”
“Well then, yeah I am Spider-Man,” he grins at her, “but you can’t tell anyone, promise?”
They lock pinkies and she grins at him.
“I’m Morgan, Daddy’s told me a lot about you.”
His brain connected the dots, her eyes were so familiar because they were exactly like Mr. Stark’s which meant—
“Oh really?” Peter raised an eyebrow, “I hope your dad’s only said good things then.”
“He said you liked brussel sprouts,” Morgan made a face, “is that true?”
Peter mirrored her disgust, “What? Mr. Stark said that?”
“Yup,” she affirmed, then she furrowed her brows, “why do you call Daddy, Mr. Stark?”
“Well, what else would I call him then?”
“Daddy always told me Spider-Man was my brother,” Morgan answered, “isn’t it weird to call your dad Mr. Stark?”
Peter felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, and he hastily blinked back any tears that were forming in his eyes.
He coughed, “Um, yeah, maybe, but you know what I think, Mo?”
“What?”
“I don’t think it matters if I call him Mr. Stark or not,” Peter pauses, “I think it matters how much I love I say it with, right?”
A few seconds pass by before Morgan finally nods, a warm smile blooming on her face.
“Daddy was right, you’re really cool, Petey.”
Before the snap, before he well, died, there had always been that idea that maybe he did see Mr. Stark as a father figure.
But he’d tried his best to stamp out that seed, he couldn’t do that, Parker Luck wouldn’t allow him that, and he didn’t want to take his chances.
Now, maybe it was different.
—
Peter should’ve known better—Parker Luck was not something you messed with.
The first time Tony tried pushing him away, he didn’t say anything about it. Peter chalked it off to Mr. Stark still adjusting to everything, he literally had a metal arm now.
“Mr. Stark?”
Peter immediately noticed Tony’s flinch, and he frowned.
“Kid,” Tony gave him a tired smile. “What’s up?”
“Um, I uh, just missed you, s’all,” Peter shrugged.
Warmth flooded through Tony, he’d missed the kid so much—but there was still that fear he had, if Peter got any closer to him, something would happen to him and then what?
“Actually, wait Mr. Sta—”
“Pete,” he took a breath, “call me Tony, please.”
Because the last time I heard Mr. Stark, you were dying and I couldn’t do shit about it.
Peter furrowed his brows but nodded nonetheless, “Oh, okay, Tony, um there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Pete, I—I’m tired right now, okay?”
Tony cursed at himself for sounding so dismissive but that little voice in his head wouldn’t stop, you’ll hurt him, just like last—
“Oh, okay,” Peter paused, “wait, tired? Mr. Sta—Tony shouldn’t you be resting, shit, am I bothering you right now?”
“Never, kiddo.”
—
And then life went on.
Or it went on as best as it could—Peter started school and patrolling again, and tried his best for regular visits to the lakehouse so he could hang out with Morgan.
May was even dating Happy, which initially had been kinda weird, but Peter saw how (no pun intended) happy he made her, so he was happy for his aunt too. Overall, life was good.
But right now, life did not feel so good—Peter wasn’t exactly having the best day today.
a) He’d stayed up until four in the morning last night—morning?—and managed at least thirty minutes of sleep before he woke up again. Every time he closed his eyes, it was Tony in front of him again, his heartbeat was slowing, and all Peter could do was stand there, frozen.
b) He also skipped breakfast, and May would definitely say something later, but after that nightmare, Peter wasn’t sure if he could stomach anything right now. But Tony was fine, fine, fine.
Tony’s probably mad at you too, and he shook his head, now was not the time to get distracted.
Peter tried hard to not let it get to him.
But he wasn’t dumb, after Mr. Stark had cancelled lab day for the third time this month, he knew it wasn’t on purpose.
What did he do wrong?
“Peter?”
Maybe he did something last week, he was pretty sure he’d been a little loud when he chased Morgan around playing superheroes, or maybe—
“Peter!”
He startled, meeting Michelle’s worried glance.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
She raised an eyebrow, “The Decathlon meeting dork, I asked you a question.”
“Oh,” his face flushed, “can you repeat it?”
“What does it mean when a turbine is called full admission?”
“When the working fluid enters at all points…” he pauses, remembering something Tony had told him, “around the parameter of the rotor.”
Michelle nodded, before turning towards the rest of the team.
After the meeting ends, he tries to call Tony again.
A few seconds pass before he picks up, “What’s up, kiddie.”
“Can I head over,” he hums, “like right now.”
Silence.
Peter could hear Tony’s shaky exhale.
“I—Kid, I think it’d be better if you don’t, at least right now.”
His stomach turned, what had he done wrong?
“Tony, I don’t, what?” he replies, “What did I do—did I say something, I don’t get it!”
“I know this hurts, Pete,” Tony sighs, “but it’d be better for you if you stay away right now—from me.”
Peter didn’t mean to get mad at Tony. He didn’t, but he was so fucking frustrated. That didn’t make any sense—better for him?—what the hell was Tony on about.
“Oh,” he muttered, “Parker Luck strikes again.”
“What?”
“You’re gonna leave me too, right?” Peter answered hotly, “Because that’s what I deserve, isn’t it?”
“Kid, what, no, no, what’re you—”
“My dad, Ben, and you too,” he sniffed, “but I shouldn’t be surprised at this point.”
“Peter. I’m not gonna fucking leave you,” Tony said, trying his best to not let his frustration leak through.
“It’s okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, “I get it. It’s not your fault—you don’t have to keep making excuses.”
He pressed the end call button, and silenced his phone. Maybe it was kind of reckless to go patrolling right now, but Peter needed to get away, the room felt too tight, and he couldn’t breathe and—
He snatched his suit from the closet, hastily slipping it on before slipping out the window.
“Hi Karen,” he greeted his AI, “can you turn on do not disturb mode?”
Do not disturb mode was something Peter had installed into his suit when he needed alone time, ensuring that no one would be able to call him, so enabling it didn’t seem like a problem.
And then he swung around the city, the familiar comfort of his webs easing the anger and anxiety that clouded his mind.
Fuck.
He’d actually said that to Tony. God, that—why had he done that? Peter probably would’ve sat there longer if a shrill scream hadn’t broken the frantic thoughts building up in his head.
“Help,” someone called out, “help me, please!”
“Karen?”
A highlighted path immediately appeared on his display, and he quickly followed it, carefully dropping down onto the concrete.
He examined the alleyway, there was a masked man, and a scared looking woman backed up into the wall.
“Hey, hey,” Peter greeted, “I don’t think you drank your respect women juice.”
He tensed when the man reached for something in his pocket.
A knife. Okay. Peter thinks—first priority, get the woman away, and then web up the asshole. Perfect.
“Fuck off you stupid bug,” he growled, “mind your business.”
Peter rolled his eyes, “Spiders are arachnids, asshole.”
He yanked the knife out of the man’s hand, and looked at the woman, tilting his head towards the open end of the alleyway.
Peter sighed with relief when she got the message, and ran away. Now, he just had one more job to do. He looked at the man, “Okay, let’s just save both of us some time here, you—”
He was not expecting another knife aimed towards him, and he jumps back, centimeters away from being stabbed.
“Now that’s just rude,” he huffs, sticking himself to the building, if he just climbed a little higher, launched himself from—
Peter’s stomach lurched at the thought of climbing higher, black spots dancing in his vision before he managed to collect himself.
Okay, stay on the ground, now was not the ideal time to pass out.
“Hey insect,” the asshole sneered, “Stark’s not gonna help you anymore.”
His heart jumped.
“What—what the hell are you talking about?”
Peter likes to think his reflexes were decent. He’d been dodging criminals and knives for nearly two years, it’d be kinda concerning if his reflexes weren’t somewhat decent.
Stark’s not gonna help you anymore.
But, that had caught him off guard, and the sharp pain from the knife jabbing into his side compared nothing to the words repeating in his head.
“I said.” The man twists the knife, Peter hisses, the entire right side of his body felt on fire. “I said that Stark’s not gonna help his little insect freak anymore.”
Peter hated how he couldn’t move, how weak he was. He choked back his sobs when he registered the second stab to his stomach, the force making him fall to the ground.
Because he was right wasn’t he?
He’d practically told Tony to fuck off today, and it’s not like Tony wanted to talk to him anyway.
“Mind. Your. Fucking. Business.” Each word was punctured with a twist of the knife, and Peter felt his energy draining.
Maybe he’d just bleed out an alleyway.
His vision was hazy as he watched his attacker leave, black spots appearing in his vision. And all he could do was lay there, the metallic tang of blood filling his nostrils.
Peter drifted off. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.
“Kid? Kid?”
He stared at the shadow in front of him—Tony? But Tony wasn’t gonna help him anymore, that didn’t make sense.
“I’m sorry,” Tony chokes out, “I got you, it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay.”
Shit, if anymore time passed—he shook his head, nothing was gonna happen to Peter, he refused to let that happen.
“Hold on kiddie,” he comforted a barely conscious Peter, “you’re gonna be okay.”
—
Tony hadn’t meant to do it.
He hadn’t meant to push Peter away again—not unlike the days before he finally allowed the kid to worm his way into heart.
But as soon as they got settled down into what they considered their normal now, he did.
Tony wasn’t outright ignoring his kid, he could never do that—but he could tell Peter noticed something was off.
The kid was a genius, he shouldn’t have been surprised.
When Peter finally came back, Tony couldn’t describe the happiness he felt.
His kid was back and he was alive.
But when the battle ended, and the adrenaline had started wearing off, the pain had settled into his veins, replacing the relief of the battle being over.
It was kind of irrational, his fear of losing Peter again—but he couldn’t help it, but when he looked at Peter, and then at his hands, he remembered it all.
Peter dying in his hands.
The memory of Peter fading into dust in his hands haunted Tony’s nightmares for months.
Peter fading into nothing, nothing but little pieces of dust on an unfamiliar planet.
Tony had felt his heart shatter—it was already breaking when he heard the kid say Mr. Stark?
Peter had existed.
And then he didn’t anymore.
Sure, there were pictures everywhere. Pictures that Pepper had insisted on hanging around the penthouse, and that Tony had fondly placed in his lab—the picture of him and Peter presenting his Stark Industries certificate.
There were also the notes and doodles Peter had left all over the lab, and his sweatshirt—Tony was pretty sure it was actually his—he’d left draping on the chair.
But it wasn’t the same anymore.
Peter was gone.
He’d lost count of the days he’d spend staring at his hands.
Hands that were scarred and calloused from years of working in the lab and being Iron Man.
Hands that had lost Peter.
But his kid wasn’t lost anymore, he was back now and he was okay.
(Or, as okay as anyone could ever be now.)
And now he still had both his hands—even if one was metal—but there was still that fear he had of losing Peter, always lingering in his mind because if his kid got any closer, he could disappear again.
He died in your hands.
“Tony?”
Peter looked at him from his bed—Pepper had insisted that Peter just have his own room here with how often he came over here.
Tony had readily agreed, happy to pick out things Peter might like for his room.
He’d shown up to the lakehouse panicked, frantically searching for the first aid kit in the bathroom cupboard. Pepper and Morgan were outside in the garden, and Tony felt relieved his daughter didn’t have to see her brother like this.
God, he’d been so afraid of losing Peter if he got any closer to him, but now, he had no other choice. With the gentle guide of Friday he carefully treated the injuries, an odd wave of nostalgia washing over him.
Tony had done this before, and obviously he didn’t miss having to stitch up Peter’s wounds from patrol—but he’d taken care of his kid. With his hands, and Peter was okay.
“Yeah, kid?” he answered, instinctively examining Peter’s wounds.
Knowing the kid’s healing factor, they’d be nearly healed by now. Peter’s okay, he’s here and he’s alive.
There was a pause, and Tony noticed how Peter was fidgeting with his hands, something he only did when he was nervous or trying to concentrate.
He was pretty sure it was the former reason.
“Um, are you mad at me?”
The question hung in the air as Tony stared at his hands again.
“Mad, why would I be mad, kiddo?”
Peter gave him an awkward smile, “I kind of told you to fuck off today didn’t I?”
“Well, yeah,” Tony shrugged, “I think it was kinda expected, kiddie.”
“Are you sure I didn’t do something then?”
“No, of course not, kiddo.” I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I’m scared.
Peter looked at him.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a shit liar?”
Tony sighed. “Kid—”
“No, no, stop,” Peter shook his head, “I can see how you avoid me, even Morgan does, everyone does.”
“And—and you always look at me like I’m not even there sometimes,” he paused, “and I thought it was because I did something, but I think it’s something else.”
Tony stared at him.
It’s not like he couldn’t deny it, the kid was right, it was something else.
“Kid, it’s not your fault.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, and under different circumstances he would’ve laughed at how similar him and Morgan were when they didn’t believe something.
“It’s like you're miles away from me.”
His heart twisted, he hadn't meant for the kid to feel like this.
“Y’know after the Vulture stuff, and I had nightmares and everything.”
Tony breathed, remembering that moment very clearly, a building dropped on him.
“You said you were there for me, and I’m here for you too.”
He sucked in a breath.
God, he really didn’t deserve the kid, he really didn’t.
But how was he supposed to explain it—like hey, sorry kiddie, I’ve been pushing you away because I’m afraid you’ll die if you’re anywhere near me.
“Tony, I’m sorry, you don’t have to say anything, it’s—”
I’m sorry.
And then he’d faded into dust—gone, gone, gone.
“Kid,” he choked out, “I’ll be right back.”
It was a blur, stumbling outside so he could sit down on the dock—Peter had suggested building it after his first visit to the lakehouse—and then he breathed.
His lungs were on fire, and his heart was beating way too fast for someone with a fragile heart and—
“Daddy!”
He felt a small hand on his shoulder, and Tony looked up, immediately noticing the concern in Morgan’s eyes.
“Hm, what’s up Morguna?”
“Petey sent me to check up on you,” she answered, “he said you probably needed a Morgan hug—do you? They’ll make you feel better!”
Tony smiled, his heart warming because he really did have the best kids in the world.
“Yeah,” he smiled, placing his chin on her shoulder, “I think a Morgan hug would be nice.”
Morgan grinned, happily wrapping her arms around her dad’s neck.
A few seconds passed before Morgan spoke up again.
“Daddy, why don’t you like hanging out with Petey anymore?”
He sighed, “It’s not that I don’t like hanging out with Petey, Mo.”
“Then what is it?”
Tony looked out at the water, it was sunny today, a few clouds, a slight breeze. Maybe it was finally time he admitted the reason out loud.
“I’m scared,” he whispered and Morgan furrowed her eyebrows.
“Of what?”
He took a deep breath.
“Just—just of losing Peter again, Morguna,” he ran a hand through her hand, “it’s kinda silly, huh?”
She hummed, “No, it’s not silly, sometimes I’m afraid I’ll lose Mr. Cuddles but then I remember why I won’t.”
He smiled at the mention of her teddy bear—it’d been a gift from Peter for her fifth birthday, and she’d fallen in love with Mr. Cuddles at the first sight.
“Why won’t you, Mo?”
Morgan smiled, revealing the gap she had from recently losing her first tooth, and holy shit, she was growing up way too fast.
“I won’t lose Mr. Cuddles because he’s safe with me in my arms.”
She paused, and Tony wondered why six year olds, or at least his six year old, seemed to know everything.
“Or if Mr. Cuddles isn’t with me, he’s with Petey, or you, or Mommy—Petey’s safe too, because he has you, Auntie May, Mommy, and me, of course.”
Tony grinned, placing a kiss on her forehead, “Thanks, Morguna.”
“You wanna know something?” Morgan asked, and Tony raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“I think Peter needs a hug,” she told him solemnly, “but Mommy’s cooking and I need to introduce Gerald to Mr. Cuddles, which means…”
Tony smiled.
“Peter needs a Tony hug?” He answered and Morgan beamed.
“Can you go get Peter for me then, baby? I think I need to say sorry to your brother too.”
Morgan nodded, already running back towards the house.
Tony looked out into the water again, his kid was okay, and if Morgan’s bear was safe in her arms, then maybe Peter was safe in his too.
“Tony?”
He frowned at the concern in Peter’s voice.
“C’mere kiddie,” Tony answered, and he instinctively wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder when he sat down.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Peter looked at him, “But you didn’t—”
“Kid, I’ve been an asshole,” Tony answered, “and y’know that I love you kiddie, so much, but I was scared too.”
“Scared of what?” Peter asked, and Tony took another deep breath.
“Scared of losing you again.”
Peter frowned.
“Why?”
“I—Kiddie, you died in my hands, there’s no saying that—”
Peter cut him off, “Tony, that wasn’t your fault though. And I’m back now—you helped bring me back.”
“And you know what?” Peter gave him a small smile.
“What?”
He hummed, “I really miss my Tony hugs.”
“And I really miss my Peter hugs.”
Peter grinned, and Tony pulled him into his arms.
Safe.
His kid was safe in his arms.