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“Hey.”
He looked up. “Hey.”
“I got you a coffee.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be drinking coffee this late at night anymore. Captain’s orders.”
“You’re not,” Steve agreed wearily. He sat down beside his husband on the bench. “But this isn’t a normal night. We’re not going to get any sleep, are we?”
“No.” Tony sipped his coffee. Cream, no sugar. No additives. His order was a simple one, but it had always warmed his heart that Steve remembered exactly how he liked it. Tonight though, the coffee wasn’t helping to warm his heart at all. He felt frozen, hunched.
“It was really scary tonight.”
“I know, honey.”
Steve bent forward, knuckling at his eyes and Tony put the coffee on the ground. “Come here,” he said then, tugging Steve over so that he was leaning into Tony’s lap. He ran his hands through Steve’s hair and down his back, repetitive sweeps to keep them both grounded. “He’s safe now.”
He was saying this as much for his own sake as for Steve’s. The image of Pete falling down, his little legs kicking out, the way he’d looked at Tony as if to say ‘why would you let this happen to me?’ That image was permanently seared on the inside of his eyelids. He wasn’t sure it wouldn’t play across his brain again tonight if they ever did get to go to bed.
Steve had been making dinner and Tony had cried out when Pete had fallen; it was this sound that had alerted his husband to this latest crisis. Steve had pivoted, the casserole dish they’d gotten for their wedding in his hands, and when he’d seen Pete, he’d dropped it. The dish had fallen in slow motion, but when it had hit the ground, it had shattered, shattered into so many pieces that Tony thought they’d likely be finding pieces for years to come.
Steve had stepped through these shattered, hot shards like they were nothing, rushing to Peter’s side and falling to his knees.
Tony sank down beside them, much slower. “Friday,” he’d said through numb lips. “We need medical. Now.”
“I’ve already called Helen Cho, boss. She’s on her way now.”
Steve had been cradling Pete, rocking him back and forth. “We’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. Don’t be afraid. We’ll fix this. Daddy’s here. Papa’s here.”
And Pete had reached out for him, one word distinguishable through his wailing- “Daddy?”
That had flicked the last switch in his brain. He’d shuffled forward, touching Pete, caressing him, whispering what he could into the little boy’s ear- “Papa’s right, we’re right here. Don’t be afraid. We’ve got you. Daddy loves you-”
And Helen and her team had burst in at that moment, upsetting whatever fragile calm he’d managed to manufacture. They’d lifted Pete out of their arms, strapping him down to a crash cart- Pete had looked back at them, his bright brown eyes so lost- and Steve had taken off after them, essentially chasing their medical personnel down to the medbay.
And Tony?
Tony had bawled his eyes out, the last vestiges of his composure having been tied directly to his little guy. He’d sat among the shards of casserole and flecks of sweet potato and wept for the promise of what could have been, for another missed opportunity to have a normal night.
Natasha had found him, alerted by Friday or Steve, he didn’t know. “They’ve stabilized him,” she said, picking her way among the debris and settling on her knees in front of him. “So take some deep breaths with me.”
He’d shaken his head. “I can’t,” he’d gasped out. “It’s happening more-”
“He needs you,” she’d said and his breath had stuttered. “And you can’t help him until you calm down. Calm down, Tony. Please?”
It was absurd. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from crying, had cried for a full twenty minutes actually, his knees aching, his chest on fire, his head buried in Natasha’s coppery red hair, and one thought in his head- the thought that had always come back to him in these moments- the thought that he’d never been meant to be a daddy and here was the proof.
To her credit, she’d stayed with him, saying nothing, letting him pour out his misery onto her; when he’d finally reclaimed some semblance of control, she’d found a facecloth and wet it. Cleaning his face off, she’d kept up a steady litany of what they knew. This had been happening for a year, it was happening more frequently, yes, but the symptoms were lessening, the cures that Tony and Bruce had been working on were making a difference, even if they weren’t fixing him…
Tony paused one of his sweeps over Steve’s back. “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking out of his reverie.
Steve straightened up, leaning on him, claiming Tony’s space as his own, an extension of himself. “What are you sorry about?” he asked, his voice akin to gravel in a shute.
“I didn’t follow you down here,” Tony whispered, feeling his shame double with each passing moment. “He fell and I froze. You wouldn’t have cut your foot if I had reacted-”
“I would have cut my foot either way,” Steve mumbled. “If it makes you feel better…” He stretched his neck, cracking it, “I’m sorry too.”
Tony blinked. “Why?”
“I knew you were having a panic attack. I couldn’t stay with you. It’s not your fault you didn’t come down right away… and there’s nothing you could have done. There was nothing that I could do. They sedated him on the way down. He was asleep before we got to the elevator.”
Tears were threatening to rise in his throat again. He gulped, snatching his coffee off the floor. Drinking it- he scalded his throat- he swayed, rested his head against Steve’s shoulder. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. His little boy was bright and full of life, their pride. Their joy. He had Tony’s dark brown eyes, his intellect, his way of pronouncing th’s. The first time he’d held Pete, he’d rearranged all of his priorities… There had always only been one…
The door opened in front of them and they stumbled to attention. Helen slipped out in front of them and gave them a small smile. “He’s off of sedation and sleeping normally. You can go in with him now.”
Tony left Cap behind again then, needing to see Pete with his own eyes. He could hear his husband talking to the doctor, but he would get the cliff notes version of whatever she said. Friday was recording it. He’d review it later with Steve.
He pushed his way into the room.
Moonlight spilled in through the slats, splashing across linoleum and lighting the way to Pete’s bed. He found a nightlight in the drawer beside him, and moving across the room, plugged in right above the toddler’s bed.
“Hey, beautiful boy,” he said, even though Pete was asleep. “Daddy’s here.”
“So’s Papa.” Steve touched his shoulder, gently pushing him down onto the bed. Steve claimed the seat beside the bed.
“Is he really stable? It won’t happen again?” Tonight, was the underlying question.
Steve hummed. “It won’t happen again tonight.” So he’d heard Tony loud and clear. “As scary as it was, Helen says this reaction was much less pronounced than the last ones.”
The engineer didn’t know what to say to that. Any incident like tonight was too much. He knew Steve knew that. He didn’t know what to say. He glanced up. His husband looked exhausted. “Helen says we can bring him upstairs,” Steve offered. “He doesn’t like to wake up in the hospital wing.”
“Let’s put him in our bed,” Tony said at once. Pulling the blankets down, he scooped Pete up under the armpits. “Daddy’s got you,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. “Shhh…”
They took him up the stairs, afraid the elevator would wake him. They both skirted the kitchen widely, passing quickly through the living room and down the hall to their bedroom. “I’ll grab his pjs,” Steve promised, and he ducked away.
Tony pushed into their bedroom, leaning Pete against him so that he could untie the johnny. Steve was there in less than a minute. “Got a pullup for him?”
“Yeah, right here.”
They’d long since worked out this routine- Steve worked the training underpants and then Pete’s pajama bottoms up his legs and then he took over holding the toddler up. Tony slipped the shirt up and over his head- Steve had picked Pete’s favorites tonight- and then he leaned forward, trapping their five year old essentially between himself and his husband.
“I can’t do this again. I’m at the end of my rope, Steve.”
“I know. I know.”
Steve didn’t offer him any promises or reassurances, and for that, he was grateful. Each one of these incidents had taken something else from Tony. It would have been absurd to look for the silver lining in them. “Are you going to sleep?”
“I’m going to lay down. I doubt either you or me are going to sleep for a long time.”
He nodded, letting go of Steve. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” he said. Getting to his feet, he stole Pete from Steve’s embrace.
They settled Pete in between the two of them. He mumbled in his sleep, curling on his side. He’d started sucking on his thumb again recently and neither of them had had the heart to admonish him or even to try to get him to stop. Tony watched him know, hoping the thumb brought him some measure of comfort at least. He was shaking, he realized.
A hand touched his hip then, squeezing him. Steve. “You okay?”
He sniffled. “Steve, I can’t seem to stop crying.”
“I know. But you’re okay. Pete’s okay. He’s right here. Feel his heartbeat?”
His fingertips touched Pete’s chest softly, afraid to hurt him. Gradually, he laid his whole palm against him, feeling the steady beat pulsing under him. “Yeah…”
“That’s not going away. Neither am I. You can close your eyes, Tony.”