Work Text:
Peter Stark had always been a noisy little baby. Tony realized very early on that he would not go down when he was supposed to, he full-throatedly rejected his meals on a regular basis and if things didn’t go his way he just went for the whole meltdown tantrum before Tony could so much as blink. But then, just one minute later, he’d laugh and gurgle and giggle like he didn’t have a care in the world.
That’s just how babies worked, Tony figured, and he realized in the very first second he held him in his arms that he loved that little thing like he had never loved anything before. And somehow, the two of them made things work.
A fail-proof way to get Peter to calm down, he soon learned, was to talk or sign or hum. Peter loved listening to voices but he was especially fond of his dad’s.
When he didn’t want to eat, Tony made the best helicopter sounds anyone had ever made. When that didn’t intrigue him anymore, he invented sounds a pterosaurian might have made. Somewhere along the lines, Peter would start requesting new sounds and he’d have his chubby arms crossed in front of his chest until Tony complied.
When Peter was having a meltdown, he talked him out of it. Quite literally so. He sat down in front of the puffy red baby with tears running down his cheeks and tiny hands clenched to fists, fighting like the world was ending and he asked him what bothered him. He kept his voice kind and soft and questioning. He led them through entire adult conversations and – when he couldn’t think of anything else to say – started talking about Newton’s law or quantum physics and, at the end of the day, he’d have a happy toddler eagerly agreeing with whatever he just said.
When he protested going down to sleep, some soft singing always did the trick in calming him down. When he woke up in the middle of the night, Tony just had to pull his crib closer and start humming and, later, it even worked through the high-tech baby monitor he installed. He didn’t like to admit this to anyone but he still regularly got up just to see his baby boy was doing alright. And he made sure that kid loved AC/DC before he ever even heard of the Sesame Street.
Sound in general, and Tony’s voice specifically, was Peter’s go to happy place more than even hugs and kisses. Sure, he demanded his fair share of those, too, but Tony could calm him down over the phone just as easily. (A talent Rhodey had thanked the heavens for whenever babysitting duties had ended up on him.)
As Peter got older, he soon learned to verbally request what he wished for, knowing full well that his dad would always, always make sure he got what he needed.
‘Dada sing’ was one of his favorite phrases of all times and with 18 months he started babbling along to his singing in something that almost resembled a melody.
He hit all his language-milestones prematurely – as Tony never gets tired to mention – so when he still isn’t speaking in more than 2- or 3-word sentences when he is four years old, Tony starts to worry. The doctor tells him it might just be the rest of his brain catching up with the language center and that he doesn’t need to worry.
Meanwhile, Peter gets clingier and he fusses a lot and it gets harder and harder to calm him down and Tony is not known for his patience when something goes beyond his understanding and, most importantly, his ability to fix things.
He ultimately realizes that something is wrong when he’s trying to put Peter down to sleep one night, softly singing one of his favorite songs and rocking him back and forth. But Peter has been fussy all day and he’s still crying and starts punching his chest with his, still tiny but slightly bigger, fists and he tearfully demands: “Daddy sing, daddy sing.”
Tony stops dead in his tracks but as soon as Peter senses that something is wrong, his crying only gets louder and his wails are almost too much for Tony to bear. Instead of completely freaking out right away, he starts singing the song again from the beginning, a lot louder this time and, finally, finally, Peter’s tears dry up and he calms down enough to be lulled to sleep.
That night Tony spends 7 hours on about every website the world wide web has to offer regarding hearing loss in kids and the next day they’re the very first patients in the best otolaryngologist’s office in the city that sub-specializes on children and hereditary hearing loss.
When the doctor calmly and carefully breaks the news to him that he has been expecting, Tony is glad Peter is waiting outside with Pepper because, as in control as he tries to appear, he completely loses all his cool when he hears the unchangeable words “Peter is going to lose his hearing completely.” And “There is currently nothing that we can do about it.”
He cries and he asks what all desperate parents must ask “Is there really nothing we can do?” but nothing changes and so, Tony has to somehow do what he has always done – he has to adapt.
No one is able to tell him how much time they’d have until Peter would be completely deaf and so he starts preparing the very next day.
Every chance he gets, he sings to his boy. He sings loudly, whole-heartedly and he cherishes every giggle and laugh this gets him. When he speaks now, he makes sure his speech is clear and slow and that Peter can see the movement of his lips.
He lets Peter tickle him and laughs loudly and happily so his boy would know what his father’s laugh sounds like. He lets him focus more on his other senses – making faces at him and drawing pictures, and starts integrating touch more into his calm-down procedures. A little nose bop here, a gentle hair ruffle there, some belly rubs and lots of kisses which Peter loves to soggily return.
Still, the progress is inevitable and sometimes Tony feels like Peter’s hearing gets worse by the day. That one day he can’t be woken up with the same sound level he has gone to sleep with. It pains him to see the insecurity, the fear on his boy’s disoriented face more and more often as the hearing loss progresses.
Very early into his research Tony finds resources on the American Sign Language and, during one sleepless night, starts teaching himself the basics. Then the next night he digs deeper and deeper until he thinks he’s fluent enough to get by and, most importantly, help Peter get by.
It’s around that time that their doctor detects significant loss of hearing and suggests hearing aids. Peter wears them for all of 5 minutes before ripping them out and staring accusingly at him for having made him wear them in the first place. And he does honestly get why, when he looks into it some more and it’s then that he realizes that his son will never get back the sounds he so profoundly loves.
So, while he still bargains with Peter to wear the hearing aids for a few hours every day and he begrudgingly gets used to them, he playfully starts teaching him some basic signs.
Whenever he talks now, he uses the corresponding signs and exaggerates his mimic and the movement of his mouth.
Peter is an amazingly fast learner and absorbs every new word Tony teaches him and he even has fun doing it.
The more his ability to hear decreases the more he starts incorporating simple signs into his everyday life and it soon becomes obvious that he feels a lot more comfortable signing, especially when he’s worn out and moody.
The day Peter wakes up completely deaf, he is 8 years old and he’s up way before his dad is. He forgoes the hearing aids – like he usually does – and runs to his dad’s bedroom. He jumps on his bed and tackles him awake, laughing when he tickles him but the laughter feels more dull than usual and when his dad starts talking – probably pretty loudly – he can only understand the good morning because his dad is now so used to simultaneously signing that he wakes up with it.
He rolls onto his side and waits until his dad is fully looking at him. Then he uses his index finger to point to his ear, then his chin and then his chest. I’m deaf, he mouths.
He watches his dad intently, watches his reaction if he’s scared or sad or surprised but he is neither, he just meets his eyes warmly and with the same love and strength he’s always had.
Still laying on his side, his dad awkwardly makes the sign of fear with both hands and then points to Peter with a questioning and concerned look. Are you afraid?
For a moment, he considers the question but then he looks at his dad again. If he’s not afraid, Peter doesn’t have to be either. He shakes his hand happily then points to himself, crosses his arms in front of his chest as if hugging himself, then points to his dad. I love you.
Without words in either language his dad pulls him into a big hug and Peter curls up against his chest where he can feel his dad humming one of his favorite songs.
His ‘I love you, too’ is loud enough without words.
And they’ll get through this, too. Together.