Work Text:
Depression and anxiety are a Phantom Bullet. That is how Tony has always thought of them; lurking around in your life like a ghost, and striking when you least expect them like a bullet. They do not care who you are; they will come, and they will ruin your life.
To an outsider, Tony’s life is the epitome of perfection; he is a genius, billionaire, playboy. He has everything he could ever want. But sometimes, The Phantom would strike, leaving him vulnerable and wishing for the Grim Reaper to come and claim his soul.
He started noticing The Phantom looming around when he was four years old. It was just a whiff in the air at first, but as the years went by- and his father’s hatred for Tony grew- The Phantom solidified until it turned to a pitch-black shadow monster with white sharp teeth following him around.
Tony remembers when his PTSD started.
Afghanistan. 2008.
He remembers that day vividly. He remembers waking up to that hot pain in his chest. He remembers building the first Iron Man suit in that cave with Yinsen. Then watching him die before Tony flew away.
The nightmares started after his fight with Stane. He’d wake up drenched in sweat and gasping for air. They were not so bad; the nightmares and panic attacks were bearable.
When he would wake up and have a panic attack, he would feel The Phantom wrapping his shadowy fingers around his neck, blocking out air from entering his lungs. His heart would pound against his chest, making his chest hurt even more from the Arc Reactor.
For the next two years, Tony would get a little bit better. He would still catch a glimpse of The Phantom, but he could deal with it.
It was not until 2012 that things would get much worse.
Carrying the nuke through the wormhole and staring into the dark pit of space was the scariest thing he had encountered so far in his life. He saw the fate of the universe written in the stars.
It terrified him.
It terrified Tony to know that the fate of the universe was now resting on his shoulders, a weight too heavy to carry.
Aliens, Gods, other dimensions. The universe was expanding in front of his eyes, and it terrified him.
72 hours. That was his record. Seventy-two sleepless hours. The Phantom was now following him everywhere, awaiting the right moment to strike Tony and leave him vulnerable.
The nightmares just got worse and worse. Waking up drenched in sweat, heart beating fast. Threatening to burst out of his chest. He would feel The Phantom’s fingers squeezing his airways, and shrouding him like a blanket. It felt like he was drowning, with no one extending their hand to pull him to the surface.
After defeating the Mandarin, things went downhill even further. Tony was still suffering from severe PTSD, no one was taking his problems seriously, so he was on his own; again.
Then Ultron came, and with him came the Scarlet Witch.
The vision she gave Tony was his worst nightmare: watching everyone he loves die and being left as the Survivor. That night in Clint’s farm was yet another restless one. Thrashing around in bed and mumbling in his sleep before jerking awake.
This time The Phantom rested his heavy, misty hands, on Tony’s shoulders. Its presence was horrifying. Tony’s mind was all over the place; he could not get the nightmare out of his mind, and The Phantom’s hands were still on his shoulders.
‘Civil War’ was the next tragedy in Tony’s life. The fight, the betrayal, the disagreement, the truth finally coming out. It was all taking a toll on Tony.
The fight against Steve was his breaking point.
He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and Steve came and dropped the biggest truth bomb.
That day, Tony added a new betrayal to his long list.
The Phantom was a constant presence in his life, terrorizing him for years without mercy. It was a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. No matter how hard he tried, he could never get rid of it.
Then came Peter.
A vibrant, kind, intelligent kid. He was a ball of energy and Tony found himself wanting to be around him more.
When he first recruited him, Tony tried to distance himself from Peter, taking on the role of a-sort-of-mentor. But then the Ferry incident and the fight on Coney Island happened, and Tony found himself feeling responsible for the kid.
At first, Peter came every month to the compound for updates on his suit. After a few months, it turned to a bi-weekly thing, then he came for the weekends, and they started having Movie Nights together every Friday after they finish working in the lab.
Tony found himself having Bad Days more and more after the whole Sokovia Accords thing and having Peter around helped his anxiety settle down for a little while.
Peter started spending the night after a while. Those were Tony’s favourite days, waking up the see Peter sitting on the kitchen bar eating a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal, sporting an impressive bedhead. Tony would walk past him to the coffee machine and ruffle his hair.
“‘Morning,” Peter would mumble sleepily.
“Good morning, kid. How did you sleep?” Tony would ask, starting his coffee machine.
“Good. You?”
Tony would lie and say, “Pretty good.”
They would sit together, talking about different things. Tony never thought of himself as the domestic type, but he absolutely enjoys those domestic mornings with his kid.
But one weekend that Peter was spending at the compound with Tony, the latter realized something.
Peter was laying in bed wide awake. It was two o’clock in the morning and he had no hope of going back to sleep after the nightmare he had. It was the same one he had been having for the last few months. Trapped under that building, unable to breathe, yelling for help and feeling the crushing weight of the building on his back.
Peter got out of his bed with a tired and resigned sigh, making his way down the hall to the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks in front of his Mentor/father-figure (?) bedroom. His enhanced hearing picked up on the elevated high-rate and laboured breathing.
“Um, Friday?” He whispered.
“Yes, Peter?” The A.I responded quietly.
“Is Mister Stark okay?”
“Mister Stark appears to be having a nightmare,”
Huh.
“Um, can I… can I go help him?” He asked sheepishly. After a second, he heard the clicking of the door lock. Peter opened the door hesitantly and peered inside.
Tony was thrashing around, his face scrunched up in a pained frown. Peter advanced into the room and stood at Tony’s bed.
“Mister Stark, wake up,” he shook him. “Wake up. It’s not real, Mister Stark.” Peter kept shaking him until Tony woke up with a gasp.
Tony’s eyes skimmed across the room in a panic until they finally landed on Peter. He sat up slowly, wiping the sheen of sweat on his forehead, “Pete, you okay?” Tony asked. “Why are you here?”
“I’m okay, Mister Stark,” he said, wringing his fingers together, suddenly nervous and embarrassed to be standing in the man’s room, ”I was in the hall and I heard your rapid heartbeat. Friday let me in,”
Tony nodded in repones and took his time to get his breathing under control. He stood up from his bed and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Come on, let’s go to the living room.” He said. Peter nodded and silently followed him.
They both took their usual seats on the couch. Tony slumped in his seat and took a couple of deep breaths. “Do you want to talk about it, Mister Stark?” Peter asked after a few minutes in the silence.
Tony looked at him briefly and chuckled humourlessly, “You don’t wanna hear about all my crap,”
“Talking about it always helps me,”
This time Tony gave him his full attention. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
“Yeah…” Peter trailed off, “Um, you’re not the only one who has nightmares all the time,”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Peter spoke up again, “I always get the same one. The vulture, the fight on Coney Island. Every time I get stuck under that building, I never make it out.”
Tony sighed, knowing what the kid was doing, and still accepting his plan, “I never escape that vision of seeing my teammates dead because of me. Every time they say different things that still haunt me. Or sometimes I still see Pepper falling into flames, but never coming out to defeat the Mandarin. And the wormhole, Jesus, that’s a whole ‘nother story,” he laughed with no humour behind it.
Suddenly, Tony felt Peter’s weight next to him. He looked down to see Peter burying his face in his shoulder, with his arms wrapped tightly around Tony. Tony sat up and reciprocated the hug. “I’m sorry,” Peter’s muffled voice came up.
“Geez, bud, here’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Tony said softly, “It’s not your fault,”
Peter’s response was tightening his hold on the man. Tony brought on of his hands to Peter’s head and pressed him more against him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were having nightmares, buddy?” Tony asked, starting to thread his fingers through Peter’s hair. He felt the kid visibly relax before responding.
“I could ask you the same question,” he retorted.
Tony snorted slightly, “You don’t have to worry about me, kid,”
“Well, it’s only fair that you don’t worry about me,”
Tony leaned back again on the couch, bringing Peter with him. Peter snuggled up against his side and rested his head on Tony’s chest.
Tony smiled, not stopping his hand from moving through Peter’s hair, “I’m the adult here, Pete, I worry about you, but you don’t worry about me,”
Peter hummed in thought, “Well, here’s a deal. I’ll talk to you if I have a nightmare, under one condition: you have to talk to me when you have a nightmare,”
Tony chuckled, “sure, kid,” he humoured him.
“I’m being serious, Mister Stark, you can count on me,”
Tony looked down at Peter and saw the genuine concern in his eyes. He smiled softly and kissed Peter’s forehead, “I know, bud,” he said, “I know that I can count on you.”
It was then that Tony realized, that he was not alone.
He was not alone in his fight against The Phantom.
He still had people who cared about him and genuinely loved him.
He pushed away the heavy, shadowy hands that rested on his shoulders, trying to push him under, and held Peter closer and closed his eye, feeling Peter relax even more next to him. He slept soundly through the rest of the night.