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After he had Morgan, Tony learned some things about being a dad. Most of it, he realized he had already learned from Peter without knowing that's what being a dad felt like.
The biggest lesson Tony learned from being a dad was that he'd do anything to keep his kids safe.
He'd check under the bed and in the closets for monsters every night he tucked Morgan in. He'd shave his facial hair, bleach his hair and run away to the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere to keep the U.S. Government from arresting Peter for mass murder and domestic terrorism.
Just dad things, really.
Tony had to act pretty fast after the clip from Beck was released. It had happened so fast that Peter didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to his aunt in person. She was at work, but Happy promised he'd protect her while Peter was gone. No one would hurt her, especially now that Spider-Man's enemies knew his secret identity. Tony just barely said goodbye to Pepper and Morgan before he was shoving two duffel bags into the trunk of a 2002 Honda Civic and meeting Peter to take him far, far away.
Peter had been numb, on the verge of a panic attack as he hid in an old warehouse until Tony got there. They drove in silence to an isolated cabin where they'd stay until Peter's problem was fixed.
The first thing they did was take out the tracker in Peter's suit, and deactivate Karen so she couldn't be hacked by anyone even without the tracker.
Yeah, maybe they were a little paranoid.
The second thing they did was cry. Peter sobbed through panicked gasps as Tony struggled to comfort him, tears prickling his own eyes.
That had been almost two weeks ago. And things were only worse for them now. They had no contact with the others and relied on newspapers from a gas station eight miles away to keep up with what was going on. Tony refused to let Peter see the paper when the headlines were about either of his personas. They were living on gas station food: canned foods, bagged snacks, and jerky. It wasn't fun.
Neither were the terrors Peter dealt with as a result of the BARF technology used against him. Tony wasn't sure exactly what Beck made him see, but he knew it was bad.
He had the visions whether he was awake or asleep. The first time he was awake and started screaming for Beck to stop, Tony had been terrified. He had searched the living room and found nothing before he realized Peter had been staring at the wall and sobbing.
Tony forgot about the small side effects of using BARF...one of them being that Tony saw visions of his parents so vividly for brief moments after testing the tech for hours on end. So, of course when Peter was tormented with the technology for days, he'd be tortured by the memory of each illusion.
Unfortunately, it was never a small illusion that lasted only a moment. It was always bad and Tony always struggled to bring him back to reality. The first time he had realized what was happening, Peter called him Uncle Ben. He had sobbed and clung to him and apologized for killing him. Tony knew the story, and he knew Peter didn't kill him, though his guilt let him believe otherwise.
They only continued from there, so suddenly and so real that Peter could never tell if he was seeing reality or illusion. Even when he was talking to Real Tony. He was jumpy and hesitant and miserable. Especially because the illusions carried to his dreams and made them nightmares. Most days, he could tell if he was awake or asleep, so he tried to avoid it all together.
Trying to live on no sleep only made it even harder to determine what was real that he was seeing and what was a figment of his corrupted mind.
But just because Tony was getting used to Peter's episodes didn't mean that it got any easier to deal with. Every time Peter broke out in sobs because he just didn't know it wasn't real, Tony's heart broke.
There was never any time to prepare for it, either-- like right now as they ate the dinner Tony had just picked up from the gas station. They were seated at the kitchen table eating the reheated tacos Tony had bought an hour or so ago. He never liked spending too long at the gas station for restock because he was terrified of leaving Peter home alone. He usually went when Peter was in one of his naps, and thankfully, today he slept through Tony's errand.
Now he was sitting at the table close to Tony. Their legs were pressed up against each other so Peter could feel him and know he was real. One thing that was different from the BARF illusions was that BARF had the ability for it to feel real with the drones, whereas, Peter's mind couldn't give him anything tangible. So what he could feel was real, what he couldn't feel wasn't real.
Unfortunately, that didn't always work.
"I got some snacks today for you, Pete," Tony said softly, keeping his voice low. Peter looked exhausted even after his nap.
"Thanks," Peter mumbled, bringing the soggy taco shell to his mouth. He took a bite anyway.
Tony hated this food. He never lived on crap like this, even though Peter insisted it was fine because he had before. Some months was tight with rent, and it was all Ben and May could afford. Tony didn't even think half the shit they consumed these past few days were even considered food by the FDA.
"I picked up a box of Oreos. Figured we can play Poker with them as bargaining chips." Tony was trying to keep this runaway situation as fun as possible, though it seemed impossible between the PTSD from the BARF technology, and Peter's anxiety about his identity reveal.
"I don't know how to play Poker, Mr. Stark," Peter said weakly, staring down at the taco weirdly.
"I can teach you. We've got the time. Or we can stick to Go Fish--." Tony's normal conversation was interrupted by Peter gagging. Tony thought for a moment he was choking. (One of) a parent's worst fear was their child choking, and even though Tony was Iron Man, the thought of food lodging in Morgan's throat terrified him for the first few years of her life.
He realized soon enough that Peter wasn't choking though. He shoved himself away from the table and dropped his taco to the floor. He spit all of the food from his mouth and even, when it was empty, he wasn't satisfied.
"Peter, what's wrong?" Tony asked urgently.
Peter didn't answer. He just shoved his hand in his mouth before he started retching. He was shoving his finger down his throat.
Tony grabbed his wrist and pulled it from his mouth before he was successful in making himself vomit what little he had eaten. "Peter, stop."
"I can't-- that's not-- it's bad." Tears were streaming down Peter's cheeks as he told Tony. "There's bugs in there." He made himself start gagging again, close to throwing up just at the thought.
Tony knew that it wasn't true, but there was no way to prove that. Peter could hold the and feel taco, but the meat inside must have been replaced by bugs, so it was believable. Tony shoved the plate and chewed up meat out of Peter's view. "Look at me, Pete."
But Peter couldn't. "I feel them-- crawling and--." Peter gagged one more time before he threw up on the ground in front of himself.
His sick just nearly missed Tony, but he didn't show any care. He didn't really care at all, actually. If he had a nickel for every time Morgan had gotten sick of him in the last five years, he'd be rich-- well, even richer than he already was.
Tony leaned forward and rubbed his back gently. "Get it out. You're alright."
"I-- I can't! Mr. Stark." Peter was hunched over, violently retching. There wasn't anything in his stomach to get rid of anymore, but he kept gagging. "Get it out!"
"It's out, bud." Tony cupped his face now, using one thumb to rub his cheek soothingly and another to wipe some sick from his chin. "It's all out."
After that, Peter lost all of his strength and went limp in Tony's arms. Tony winced, hoping he didn't get too close to the vomit between them. He cried into Tony's shoulder as Tony hushed him gently.
After a few moments, Tony whispered, "Why don't we get you into bed?" His panic attacks like this always wore him out afterwards.
"I don't-- I don't wanna dream," Peter cried, digging his fingers into Tony so hard he felt his nails through the shirt. “I never know-- it doesn’t make sense-- how-- what--.”
“I know it’s hard, but you need to relax. You’re getting yourself all worked up.” Tony rubbed his back gently. “We’ll try eating later--.”
Peter gagged again. “No. I don’t-- no more food. Please.”
Tony sighed. “We can’t forget food completely. You need to eat, but...we can try something better.”
“N-No tacos?”
“No tacos,” Tony said immediately. “Nothing involving any kind of ground meat.”
Peter wiped at his mouth again, glancing around the room warily. “Is it just us here?”
“Yeah, kid,” Tony said, even though he really wasn’t sure. He had no idea if Beck was here, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Not even just Beck-- anyone that wanted to get vengeance against Spider-Man would be looking for him. “It’s just us.”
“O-Okay...then...can we maybe try to sleep? I know I had a nap a few hours ago, but--.”
“Hey, no need to explain it to me,” Tony said. “You need your sleep judging by those bags under your eyes-- are they Gucci?”
Peter didn’t laugh.
“And besides, what else is there to do here but sleep, eat, and shit. We’re like babies all over again.”
Peter didn’t even crack a smile.
“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up and to bed.” Tony helped Peter stand up and kept an arm wrapped around him as they walked to the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered as they entered the bathroom. “F-For everything.”
“For everything? There’s nothing to be apologizing for, bud.” Tony settled him on the edge of the bathtub. He wet a cloth with warm water and wiped at his face. “There we go…You wanna brush your teeth?”
Peter ignored him to continue to apologize. “You have a family- wife and kid...you shouldn’t be stuck here with me--.”
“I have two kids, Peter. You’re family too.” Tony brought over a toothbrush and plastic cup full of water.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with me and my dramatics-- I almost puked on you!” Peter’s eyes began to tear up again.
Tony chuckled. “That’s a rite of passage for dads. Morgan puked on me three times in the first month of her life. You’re behind.” He brought the toothbrush closer to his mouth. “Now, c’mon, let’s clean out your mouth.” Tony stuck the brush in Peter’s mouth, rubbing his teeth and poking the inside of his cheeks to try and get a reaction.
Peter lifted his hand weakly to take the brush from Tony’s hand. “I can brush my teeth.” His hands were shaking and Tony couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety, paranoia, or exhaustion. Maybe all three combined.
“Alright, bug guy.” Tony waited for him to finish before handing him the cup to gargle and spit into the tub. “No need to taste those tacos more than once-- or twice, in your case.”
Peter groaned. “Please don’t talk about the tacos.”
“Right. My bad.” Tony watched him as he pushed himself up to his feet and wobbled towards the doorway, and out into the hallway. He headed towards his bedroom, and fell to the bed.
Tony chuckled when he didn’t even move under the covers. He pulled the blankets from underneath him and covered him up. “Is that better?”
“Mmm,” Peter mumbled, his eyes closed. Tony held his breath, waiting for a vision to attack him. It never came.
Tony took a step away, but Peter’s eyes shot open. Tony froze.
“Uh, maybe can you...stay here? Just ‘til I fall asleep.” Peter looked so small underneath the blankets. “Maybe if you’re here, the visions won’t be so bad or I won’t have them at all.”
“Yeah,” he said quickly, taking a seat at the end of the bed. “Of course, I’ll stay, bud.”
Peter smiled ever so slightly before his breathing settled out, not enough to be asleep but enough to be relaxed. Tony watched him sleep, wondering how he could sleep knowing that Tony was just watching him. After a few moments, Tony thought maybe he was finally asleep, but he whispered quietly, his eyes still closed. “Sorry you’re stuck with me for so long.”
“Stuck with you? I think we both deserve a little vacation away from everything. Only sorry that this is how it went.” He patted Peter’s leg gently and left his hand resting on Peter’s ankle. If he felt him, he’d know he was still there through whatever illusions haunted him this sleep.
“You’ve been talkin’ to no one but me for the past two weeks...you really aren’t sick of me yet?”
“Kid, I could never get sick of you. After five years without you, I’d rather die than go a day without you,” Tony said solemnly because he was done with all that pre-Morgan emotional constipation.
Peter peeked an eye open with a smile. “You’re such a dad,” he said, as if he could read his mind.
“Yeah, I know. Now get some rest. Dad’s orders.”
“M’kay. Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Pete,” Tony said even though he knew Peter was mostly joking. Within moments, Peter was asleep and snoring soundly.
Tony planned on leaving once he knew Peter was asleep for at least a half hour and then go clean up the sick in kitchen, but long before that half hour, he was following Peter into unconsciousness, catching up on sleep he desperately needed.
When he woke up again, he felt like he was waking from a bad dream. He remembered hearing a scream and his heart was pounding, but around him now, there seemed to be silence. He couldn’t even remember what the dream was about now that he was awake.
He squeezed his eyes tightly before attempting to open them. There was a pounding in the back of his head and an ache behind his eyes. He needed more sleep and maybe a bottle of aspirin. Groaning, he covered his eyes with his hand and tried to go back to sleep.
But then his brain caught up with his consciousness and he realized what he was supposed to be doing. He rolled over and realized he was laying at the bottom of Peter’s bed, but Peter wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
And then he heard the scream that woke him up.
“Tony!”
That was Peter. Tony sat up, his heart racing. It was about to beat right out of his chest. “Peter!” He screamed back, running out of the room because the scream was too far away to be in this room.
“Please! No-- no! Tony! Don’t!”
It sounded strangely like he was...outside. Tony ran through the living room and shoved open the door, stumbling outside. His head whipped around the darkness outside; he couldn’t see anything more than a foot in front of him. “Peter!” He screamed.
“Tony, no!” Peter screamed again, and it sounded like his throat was torn up from screaming. Jesus. How long had he been screaming for?
Tony whirled around to follow where he thought the sound was coming from. He looked up above him as just barely in the moonlight, he could see a shadow standing on top of the roof. He could hear the figure sobbing all the way down here, and unfortunately, he knew exactly whom that sobbing belonged to. “Peter!”
“Tony!” Peter screamed, falling to his knees way too close to the edge of the roof.
Tony took a step forward, throwing his hands up. “Peter, no!”
“D-Don’t drop him!” Peter screamed, and Tony really wouldn’t be surprised if his throat was bleeding by now.
“Peter, whatever you’re seeing isn’t real!” Tony called up to him, looking around desperately for a way to get up on the roof. His words were useless though because he couldn’t hear him, not when he was stuck in whatever nightmare was playing in front of his eyes.
Tony could relate though because his worst nightmare was playing in front of his own eyes, and not even the end of the world could distract him from it. Harsh use of words...seeing as this nightmare...it was the end of the world.
Because Peter screamed again before taking a dive off of the roof. He thought he was going to catch Tony probably, but Tony wasn’t there. He was down here. And Peter didn’t even have his web shooters on him. Tony didn’t have his suit hooked up to Peter-- it was in a case in his bedroom. He wouldn’t be fast enough to put it on and catch Peter.
So Peter fell through the air, still crying for Tony, and hit the ground hard. The second that he hit the ground, he went silent.
“No,” Tony whispered. “God, no.” He hesitated only a moment before taking off in a mad dash to where Peter laid on the ground, hopefully, only unconscious. He skidded to a stop and fell to his knees by Peter’s body. He couldn’t see Peter clear enough to know if he was okay, but he could hear him. He leaned over and pressed his ear to Peter’s chest. He held his breath until he heard the soft beating of Peter’s heart.
While he was still unconscious, at least he was alive. Tony let out a small breath of relief as he lifted Peter in his arms with a grunt. “I’ve got you, Pete. Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.”
Once inside, he wished he could have stayed outside in the dark where he couldn’t see the blood pouring down Peter’s face, dripping to the floor as he carried him. “Shit, Peter. You cracked your head open.”
Peter stayed unconscious and unresponsive. Which was a plus really because as long as he was unconscious, he wouldn’t be tormented with leftover illusions from the BARF technology used against him. Tony’s BARF technology...he would never be able to forgive himself for causing this.
He laid him on the couch, unbothered by the blood stain that would be in the cushions now. He had one thing on his mind and that was to stop this gash in his head from bleeding. Tony wished he had someone here to help him. Suddenly, running away by themselves seemed like such a stupid idea, even though they wanted to attract as little attention as possible.
Hurrying to the bathroom, he grabbed a wet rag and the first aid kit from the counter and ran back to Peter’s side. He started cleaning the blood from the gash in his hair, but it only cleaned the scabbed blood to cause more blood to gush out. Tony knew head wounds always tended to bleed more, but that didn’t make it any less nauseating.
Tony pressed the rag to his head and continued to speak to Peter, even though he couldn’t hear him. “I wish I was only washing your face from vomit,” Tony said, looking down at the rag that was now stained red. “I probably will be soon, from the looks of this. You’ve got a lump on your head the size of a grapefruit. I’m no doctor, but if this doesn’t give you a concussion, nothing will, short of a punch from the Hulk.”
Peter laid limp as Tony pulled the rag away and got the suture kit out. He knew that Peter healed quickly, but he definitely needed stitches now to stop the bleeding. He wasn’t an expert, but he’d stitched Cap up plenty of times after missions when he was too stubborn to go to the infirmary. This was no different.
Except that this wasn’t a 100-year-old U.S. soldier, this was a 17-year-old kid.
Tony hoped he stayed asleep until he was finished so it would be easier without him moving and without Tony having to hear him make pained cries as he stitched him up.
Unfortunately, his prayers were either unheard or ignored because Peter stirred before Tony was finished. He groaned to let him know he’d be conscious soon and then he was blinking open his eyes. The moment they were open, they were wide. He stared up at Tony and in a hoarse voice yelled, “Tony!” His voice cracked from the rawness of his throat.
“It’s me, kid, but don’t move,” Tony said as Peter moved his eyes up to see Tony who was leaning over his head to work on stitching up his skull. “Dad’s fixing a boo-boo.”
Peter blinked his eyes a few times, and was too out of it to laugh at Tony’s words. He looked even more confused than he was seconds ago. “D-Dad?”
“No! Shit,” Tony cursed. “That’s uh-- it’s me. Mr. Stark. Remember me, Pete?”
Peter blinked his eyes a few times, but the cloudiness from confusion didn’t disappear. “I-I thought you were dead.”
Tony really shouldn’t have called himself dad to a kid that had two dead dads already, and was currently probably suffering from a major concussion. “He is, but I’m not him-- I'm not your dad. I’m not Richard.”
Peter looked so confused he could cry. Maybe he was about to. “L-Leave me alone!”
“No! It’s not-- this is real, Peter. Hold on.” He finished up the stitching on his head before pulling away and looking Peter in the eyes, grabbing his hands. “Feel that?” He squeezed his hands for good measure. “I am real. This is real.”
“But you died!” A single tear fell down his cheek.
“I know, but that’s--.” Tony groaned. He wished he could start over. “I’m Tony kid. The--.” The alive dad seemed really insensitive to say, even if Peter likely wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow morning. “I’m Tony Stark. The dad that found you on the roof, aiming for the bushes.”
“He h-had you,” Peter explained in a shaky breath. “He was holding you by the t-throat and he threw you! I had to...I had to catch you, but--but I was too late.”
Then Tony realized that Peter knew he was Tony, but Tony had died in his most recent illusion. That’s why he had jumped. “Oh, kid…”
“You died! I saw you hit the ground and you-- you didn’t get back up!” Peter’s voice was low because if he spoke any louder, it would probably be incredibly painful for his sore throat.
Tony cupped his cheeks and pulled his face close to his. “I’m alright, Peter. I promise you. You’re the one that took a little dive off of the roof. Nearly killed me then.” Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away from the dried blood still on his face.
Peter let out a loud sob and shut his eyes, wincing painfully. “I--I can’t do this anymore, Mr. Stark. I don’t want to.”
A lump started to clog Tony’s throat. “Hey, now...don’t say that.”
“I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not real! Everything-- everything is so s--... scary!” He hiccuped as he fought against the sobs, making himself get close to hyperventilating. “I just...don’t want to do this anymore.”
“You do,” Tony said, his voice wavering as he fought his own tears. “You want to keep doing this because we’re going to find a cure and you’re going to beat this. I promise.”
Peter just shook his head feverishly. “I can’t.”
“You can,” Tony insisted. “I’m going to help you. You have a whole team in your corner that wants to help you.”
“I don’t want to see you...die...again,” Peter whispered, staring down at his shaking fingers. “He makes me see--.” He took a shaky breath. “He makes me see horrible things.”
“I’m sorry,” Tony said, feeling like this was all his fault. Why did people he piss off always go for the people he loved? “I’m going to figure out how to fix this. I promise.”
Peter looked up at him with tear filled eyes. “You can’t promise me something like that.”
“I’m going to figure this out,” Tony repeated. “We’re gonna get you to Wakanda.”
“Wakanda?” Peter parroted, sniffling.
“Yes. Wakanda. The Rogues hid there, so can we. Shuri was able to help Bucky. She can help you.” Tony nodded his head.
There was something close to hope in Peter’s eyes. “Do you really think so?”
“I do. I really do, Pete.” He put a hand on the back of Peter’s head and cupped it gently. “You’re going to be okay. I will do anything to make sure you’re okay.”
“But--But how...we’re in the middle of n-nowhere and we’re not supposed to be in contact with anyone. You could get in trouble--.”
If they were caught, they could be in a lot of trouble. May would probably scream at him for risking Peter’s safety when they intercepted the call for help. But protecting Peter also included his mental health-- if he was suffering mentally, that was just as dangerous as any physical danger. “Let me worry about that, kid.”
“What do we do until then? I’m so tired and I didn’t sleep very long.” Peter looked even more exhausted than before his sleep, but his new concussion didn’t help. “I need to sleep for years…”
“You slept a little better with me in there...I know that you had a little hiccup, but--.”
“Maybe if, uh...no, nevermind.” Peter tried turning his head away from Tony, but Tony refused to let him move his head. “It’s stupid.”
“No. If it’ll help you, I’m willing to try.”
Peter couldn’t meet Tony’s eyes when he said, “I do better with, uh, sleeping if maybe...you could lay down next to me...so I knew you were there.”
Tony smirked. “Why, Mr. Parker. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were asking for cuddles from Dad.”
Peter’s face flushed as red as the blood in his scalp. “It’s stupid--.”
“No, not stupid,” Tony said genuinely. “I don’t want you sleeping yet because of that head injury, but after a few hours, we’ll go try again? I’ll be there.”
Peter took a deep breath before letting it out. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome, kid.” Tony leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m going to keep you safe, Pete. I promise.”