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Tony’s head has always been a mess of misused lines, of darkened colors and shrill noises, and it’s all dialed up to a million fucking billion as he sits in the back of this car. In the back of this car, with some random CIA guy driving and Happy in the front seat.
Rhodey made sure to tell him that this shit isn’t allowed. This shit isn’t allowed, Tony, you’re not supposed to be anywhere near this, but I’m doing it for you, and you’ll be at a certain distance—
and he’ll be at a certain distance so he won’t get killed
so he won’t get killed
but his child, his actual newly six year old is in that line of fire, he’s there, he’s allowed to be there
except he’s not allowed, he’s not, but he’s there, anyway
and Rhodey said stay in the car, Tony, you hear me, Tony, are you listening to me? Do you hear me? Stay in the car. You are a civilian. When we find him we will bring him right out to you, we have a team—
a team, to find his son, to rescue his son, and he can’t be on it, and he can’t, Peter’s father and protector and he can’t be on that team, and Rhodey keeps saying when we find him when when when, it better be when, it has to be when, because if it’s not when then Tony just wants to end it, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t
and he thought he knew the extent of his love for Peter but here it is all laid out, here it is
I love you more than anything, monkey, please come back to me
and Tony hears radio chatter coming from the front seat and as much as he wants to focus on it, no matter how much he wants to fucking eavesdrop and know every move that Rhodey and his team are making, he can’t hear, he can’t hone in, he can’t focus. The only thing he knows is that it’s been twenty seven hours, twenty seven hours since that asshole broke into Pepper’s apartment, hit her and stole Peter—
and it’s too long, it’s too long, it was an entire night that Tony slept in Peter’s bed without Peter in it, plagued with nightmares about where he was if he was okay if he was scared if he was calling for him if he was crying and his baby his baby his baby—
and Tony can see Happy talking to him, turning around and talking to him, Tony can see his mouth moving but he can’t hear what he’s saying, goddamnit, and he’s gotta work on that and he has to key in he has to be present but
“Daddy, how many stars in the sky?”
“A million billion.”
Peter laughed and clutched at his shoulder. “No sir!” he’d said. “Seventeen and that’s it.”
“Seventeen!” Tony had said, knowing Peter was teasing him. “So what are they doing? What are they doing, are they cloning each other?”
“Yes, yes, they’re all families and they bunch up and share their light and kiss kiss and mwah and all the stars and just seventeen in total.”
“Okay,” Tony had said, patting Peter’s side and basking in his smile. “Seventeen, you’re the boss.”
He feels like he stops breathing for a moment when he realizes they’re not driving anymore.
He’s dizzy, dizzy. The sun is still out through the tinted windows but there’s trees and trees and trees trying to block it out, and he sees the swat vehicles down the way, and these fucking morons they better not have alerted this asshole that they were coming, that they were here, and this is why he should have been goddamn listening, so he’d know, so he’d know what was going on if it was going well if it was going right if his baby was safe
and he reaches out and grips Happy’s arm, his whole world turning on its head—he thinks he says his name but he isn’t sure, because his breath keeps catching in his throat and he can barely hear anything but his own heartbeat—
“—in custody, they’re still looking for Peter—”
Tony didn’t hear the full sentence, but why haven’t they found Peter yet? Why not? Why not?
“What if someone took him out of here?” Tony asks, his own voice sounding far away, underwater, in a space vacuum. “What if there was—someone else, and they passed him off—”
Tony blinks and Happy shakes his head, and in custody? The guy’s in custody? There was only one before, supposedly, and they’ve got him, so are there, is there—is there more than one—where’s Peter, where, where—
He hears the radio static and can’t hear the voices and he needs to hear Rhodey’s voice, he needs to hear Rhodey’s voice saying Peter’s okay, that he has him, because what if, what if, what if—
No, no, he can’t—he can’t take it, he can’t, it can’t, it can’t—
He’s gonna puke again, and he clutches at Happy’s arm before his hand slides away in a panic, and that’s all he is is panic, and he can’t look, he can’t look up, because what if they bring this guy out? This guy that took Peter and hurt Pepper? What if they bring him out and Tony sees him and Tony turns into some feral thing, because he will, because just thinking about him turns Tony into a monster but actually seeing him—he’ll commit murder, he won’t be able to see past his own rage, and—
Suddenly Happy and the CIA guy are shifting, and Tony hears voices on the radio yelling and he tries to listen but his brain won’t make out the words, goddamnit, and he tries and he tries and—
“What?” he yells, his voice rough and still far away, like it’s not him, like his fear is sending him ricocheting through time and space and every goddamn reality. “What, what?”
and he hears something about the child, he hears, he hears the word child
his child, his child
and “daddy, you’re the one that’s gonna be there, right?”
and “every time, bud, every time”
and it’s like something moves him, like two familiar hands on his shoulders showing him the way, and he turns and he looks out the window and there he is, there he is—
Peter—
“Let me out,” Tony says, pushing on the fucking handle, his heart in his throat and his stomach and bursting out of him. “Turn off—let me out, now, let me out—”
“Stark—”
“Let him out—”
Peter’s on his own, he’s running, he’s there, he’s running, he’s running, so fast and limping a little bit, he’s yelling—
Tony starts slamming his shoulder against the door, feeling like he’s gonna—feeling like he’s gonna fucking vomit—feeling like Peter might—might disappear, might get snatched again, might, might—
“Let me out!” he screams, and Happy screams it too, and he’s never heard Happy sound like that, and Peter is still running and he’s actually there right through the window and he’s still there, he’s there, he’s right there—
and the door gives way and Tony nearly falls out of the car, and Peter’s still there, he’s not hallucinating him, he’s not, and he catches sight of Tony immediately and changes his trajectory, and Tony rushes for him, his legs pinpricks and white noise but his heart pushing him forward—get to him, get to him now, get to him—
“Daddy, I’m right here!” Peter yells, and it’s almost shocking to hear his voice, and Tony realizes this is the first time he’s gone this long without hearing his voice since he started talking, and it makes him run faster, quickly closing the distance between them.
“Daddy I’m right here!” Peter yells again, like he isn’t sure Tony can actually hear him, and then within seconds Tony’s bending down and Peter is launching himself into his arms. Tony stumbles back, clutching at him, and the silence around them is too loud and he’s afraid and he’s terrified and he can’t let anyone touch him again, he doesn’t know what the hell is happening but he can’t let anybody touch him again, and Peter keeps saying daddy i’m right here i’m right here i’m right here
and he’s got him, he’s got him, he’s got him—
Tony doesn’t think, he just holds him tight and rushes back to the van, yanking the door open and climbing inside. He pulls it shut before he even sits, and he hears it lock behind him as he collapses in the middle seat.
They take off immediately, and there’s more radio chatter but now his selective hearing is different, now he hears Peter breathing and Peter muttering and Jesus, he’s here, Jesus Jesus he’s got him back again, he’s holding him he has him he has him—and Peter’s shaking so bad, trembling almost violently, and there are too many things to ask too many things to look for and look at, and God, he’s here—
Focus, focus, focus, he’s here, you gotta focus, you gotta tune in, you didn’t get to this point and you didn’t help find him and everybody did everything except you so step the fuck up he’s here now he’s here now do your job
“Pete,” Tony breathes, and he peels him back as gently as he can, even though Peter is holding onto him tighter than he ever has before. There’s still radio chatter and he hears Rhodey’s voice and he isn’t exactly sure where the hell they’re going, but Peter—Peter.
“Right here,” Peter whispers, when Tony can see his eyes again. Tony holds his face in his hands and takes a look at him—there’s a bruise on his forehead, a few cuts in the middle of it, a bit of dried blood, and seeing it makes Tony’s anger flare up like a dragon in his chest. He tries to move past it, and he looks at Peter’s arms, legs, his torso, and he only sees a few scrapes here and there, nothing else—until the red rings around his wrists. Like rope rubbing against his skin.
Tony feels dizzy.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, trying not to cry, trying to stay focused and present because Peter needs him to, because god fucking dammit this happened and Tony couldn’t stop it but it’s over now and he has to help it be over. He kisses Peter’s cheeks, both of them, his forehead, close to the hurt, and both wrists, like kiss it better when Peter was smaller than he is now. He’s gotta make it better. He has to somehow. “I’ve got you, I’m here—you’re with me now, monkey, I’ve got you now. Nobody else, just me.”
“Okay, okay,” Peter whispers. “I’m here, I’m right here, you’re right here.” He nods at him, and his eyes are filled with tears and Tony’s heart is aching, and he kisses him again and pulls him closer. Peter takes that opportunity to cling to him again, and he’s still trembling and drawing his knees up, trying to make himself small, as small as he can, a little terrified ball curling up against Tony’s chest.
Tony tries to cover him as much as he can, but he’s not big enough, he can’t—he can’t hold him tight enough, and Peter’s cold and he’s got goosebumps and Tony is panicking.
“Happy, you—do you have—did you bring a blanket, maybe? Possibly?” He thinks its a stupid question, because why the fuck, but then Happy answers affirmatively, and pulls one out from the seat beside him.
Tony grabs it, only reaching a little bit and nodding at him, and he quickly starts wrapping it around Peter’s tiny frame. He tucks it under him, covering him completely, and he wraps his arms around him again, rubbing his leg and his back, squeezing his shoulder, running his fingers through his hair. Tony’s been through eight thousand agonizing journeys in his head since all this shit started, and so many of them consisted of him never getting his kid back again. The worst kind of hurt, and even imagining it made him physically ill, and now that Peter is actually here Tony can’t stop touching him. Can’t stop gazing down at him.
But he’s still shaking so much.
“Baby, it’s okay,” Tony whispers, as Peter tucks his head up under Tony’s chin. “It’s okay now. I’m so sorry, Petey, but I’ve got you now, I’ve got you, you’re not there, that guy’s never gonna see you again, not ever, I’m not gonna let you go—”
“I heard all the noise,” Peter says, softly, squeezing the collar of Tony’s shirt. His voice is strained and stretched thin when he speaks above a whisper. Probably from all the yelling. “And I’d been working to get my hands free just working and working and hearing your voice in my brain and then I heard all the noise and I wasn’t—I wasn’t sure, I wasn’t sure on what it was or who it was but I just knew you were out here I just knew and I got out the window once I got free and I scraped my leg but I knew you were out here I knew it I knew it—”
He got out on his own, he got—he got out on his own—soon as he heard the noises—
Tony didn’t really think—this far, didn’t think about hearing about what the fuck happened to his son, and he should have known, and he’s worrying about the things he isn’t saying, and Tony has to know but he doesn’t wanna fucking know, he does and he doesn’t and he feels sick about all of it.
“Petey, that’s—I’m so proud of you, monkey, you’re so—” Tony clears his throat and clutches him closer, filled with love and fear and horror all at once.
“Heart beating all fast, Daddy,” Peter says, still huddling against his chest.
“Mine?” Tony asks.
“Ah huh.”
Tony sucks in a couple quick breaths. Focus focus. So many things. Sort them and check them all off. “Hap, uh—can you tell—tell the family—”
“I messaged them already, boss,” Happy says.
“And, uh, Pep too—”
“She was in the message.”
Tony nods, his mouth dry.
“We’re headed to the hospital,” Happy says. “They’re just gonna check him out, get his story, the agents and the cops are there, Rhodey’s coming too after they secure the suspect.”
Tony nods again, and another wave of dizziness runs through him. They’ve kept this out of the papers so far, but he knows that probably isn’t gonna continue, especially with Pepper on the ropes. “Pete,” Tony breathes—need to get it out just get it out. “They didn’t hurt you right? Right, baby?”
“Only one guy,” Peter croaks. “No they, just one. Heard other voices, might have been TV I think maybe, but only saw and talked to one guy and he only hurt me in the beginning when he was taking me out of Pepper’s house and I was yelling. He knocked me against the wall, my head, and I was only dark then and I woke up in that place all dark more and I was crying and crying but he only came down one time to give me soup, but I didn’t eat it because he was giving it, so I’m hungry.”
“He’s hungry,” Tony says, fast. “Can we, we gotta—”
“They’ll feed him at the hospital,” the CIA guy says, before Happy can.
It feels urgent. Tony wants to solve all the problems now. Every single one of them. He knows there are too many, and a frustrated groan escapes him before he can stop it. Peter echoes it, and it sounds more desperate coming from him, and Tony gathers him closer.
This guy hurt his child. Hit him hard enough against the wall to knock him out. His child. Tony feels dizzy with it, so angry he could rip the car apart and the earth underneath it. “But that’s the only time he hurt you, right?” he whispers, tears burning in his eyes as he rubs Peter’s back. “The only time, right?”
“Only came down the one time with the soup and when I wouldn’t eat it he left real fast and didn’t even talk to me, so yeah, only time,” Peter says. He pulls back again and presses his forehead against Tony’s, and Tony rubs their noses together. “He hurt Pepper.”
“She’s okay,” Tony whispers, carding his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Promise. You’re gonna see her soon.”
“Positive sure?” Peter says, hiccupping a little bit. His stomach rumbles.
“Positive one hundred percent,” Tony says. He has no idea what’s gonna happen, not really, and his head is a tower of too many things and uncertainty trying to balance on the jagged edges. But he knows Peter is gonna see his family. That’s what he knows. He’s gonna be surrounded by his family until this is dull in his memory. And forever. And ever and ever.
Peter huffs a little bit, and Tony can still feel his heart racing. “Missed you,” Peter says, softly.
Tony only barely manages to suppress a sob, and he kisses Peter’s cheek three times in quick succession. “I missed you too, monkey, so bad, so bad it drove me crazy. But you’re back now and I’m never ever ever in a million years letting you go again.”
Peter lays his head on Tony’s shoulder. “Good,” he says, simply.
~
Tony doesn’t know how to be.
He feels like his entire fucking life has been upended, by one asshole who Obie fired years ago before Tony even properly took over, by some asshole who wanted revenge and wanted money but was holding out on the amount. Tony feels like every sense of security he ever had has completely gone out the window, and even though he’s got Peter back, everything is different. Everything has shifted slightly to the left, and he feels like every move he makes is wrong.
They have to check Peter out when they first get to the hospital, and Peter doesn’t like that, and he’s not usually cranky with doctors but he’s just been fucking kidnapped and held in a basement for over a day and hasn’t eaten since Tony last fed him, so Tony doesn’t blame him for being more grumbly than usual. And yet, still, Peter apologizes when he groans too much, when his first reaction is to flinch away, and thankfully, after too many tests, after Tony whispering to him and kissing him and holding him, they’re informed he doesn’t have a concussion, and that nothing else happened other than the surface level bumps and bruises.
Thank God Thank GOD thank god—
“Hungry,” Petey says, as they’re wheeling him down the hallway.
He’s had saltines so far, since all the other shit has been going on, and they haven’t even been able to see Ben, May or Pepper yet.
Tony looks up at the nurse, but she seems to know what he’s gonna say before he says it. “He’s got a big dinner in the room,” she says. “Family’s in there already, and we’re just keeping him until tomorrow, so we can observe him and make sure everything’s alright. So tomorrow, early in the morning probably, you’ll get to go home! Or whenever you wake up,” she says, looking down at Peter.
“Okay,” he says, his hand resting on his knee, his other holding onto Tony’s all tight. “Thank you, I sleep late, probably, I’m so hungry so hungry and so tired. But I can walk, though,” he says, glancing up at Tony, tugging on his hand. “Like I don’t need to be pushed in the wheelchair, my legs still work I can walk.” His voice is still so rough and hoarse, and it’s stressing Tony the hell out.
“We know,” Tony says. “You’re just getting the little prince treatment, that’s all.” Peter blinks up at him, and Tony swallows hard. He knows there’s gonna be people here to talk to him soon, and he doesn’t know if either one of them are gonna be able to stand it. He’s only gotten a few details so far and it feels like they’re burrowing under his skin, and he knows Peter never likes to dwell in things that bother or scare him. And this—is unprecedented.
Tony tries not to think about it until he has to.
They keep walking a little further and Petey sighs, clutching at Tony’s hand with both of his own now, and holding it against his cheek. Tony wants to grab onto him and lift him up and just cradle him, just tell him how glad he is that he’s back.
The size of his relief is so big that he can’t even fathom it. Huge. Absolutely beyond.
“You’re okay, monk,” Tony says, softly, and Peter only nods a bit in response, still clutching at his hand.
They turn into a room down at the end of the hallway, and Tony can hear their voices as soon as they get in there. Then the curtain is being pulled back and there’s about four different gasps all in time with each other, and Peter’s launching himself out of the wheelchair before anyone can say anything.
He’s running, running to the three of them, and he hops up and down for a second. “Oh, oh,” he says, like he doesn’t know who to go to first, and the nurse smiles at Tony and gestures over to the bed in the corner, where there’s about three trays of food set up.
“Thank you,” he whispers, before she takes the wheelchair and leaves.
“There he is,” May says, voice cut up with tears. “There’s the baby, there’s our baby—”
“There’s the big man,” Ben says, and he sounds like he’s been crying, and they both rush at Peter and he rushes at them and they’re gathering him up in their arms.
“I missed you!” Peter yells, crunched between them. “Missed you so much oh no oh no—”
Tony looks up and sees Pepper standing there, watching. He didn’t notice before, because his own pain was suffocating him, but he sees her now, sees the rings under her eyes and the agony she’s in, and his jaw drops a bit.
“And nobody stopped thinking of you the whole time, baby,” May says, and they both lift him up, standing up with him, and Peter gently twists a strand of her hair around his finger.
“I didn’t stop thinking about none of you either the entire time!” Peter yells, his voice cracking as he looks around. “Nobody I just wanted to get outta there!”
“Well you’re out and you’re not going back,” Ben says, ruffling Peter’s hair.
Peter nods, and then he lets go of them and reaches for Pepper. Tony’s breath catches in his throat.
“I’m sorry,” Peter says, and Tony steps closer when he hears the catch in Peter’s voice. Pepper’s face falls and she takes him immediately, and he wraps his arms around her. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry is my fault my fault he hurt you—”
“No, no, no, no,” Pepper says, clinging to him and rubbing his back. “No, Peter, not at all, not at all, okay? In fact it’s my fault—”
“Nobody’s fault,” Tony says, stepping closer, even though his head is screaming my fault my fault my fault. “Nobody’s but that prick—sorry, buddy, that guy—and that’s it, that’s all, nobody else.”
“Right,” Ben says, loudly.
Pepper doesn’t look like she believes it, resentment and disgust on her face that doesn’t get directed at anybody but her own self, but Peter disrupts it, pulling back to look at her. “You share my dinner with me?” he asks, gently, gentle and sweet enough to make tears crop up in Tony’s eyes. He’s so hungry, but he’s wanting to share.
“You gotta eat it all,” she says, nodding at him. “Enough for all the time you missed. But I’ll come over with you, let’s—let’s go, huh?”
Peter sniffles a bit and rubs his eyes, and both he and Pepper look at Tony as they pass by, both with fear and apprehension, but relief, too. Ben walks over and flips on the other light, and Tony knows Peter likes brightness and it’s probably way better than the goddamn dark he had to deal with in that place. But hospital brightness is a different thing, and Tony can’t wait til he can get him home.
May rubs Tony’s arm as she walks by, as he’s standing there staring at Ben rearranging the trays so Pepper can sit down on the bed with Peter. “You okay?” May asks, holding onto his elbow with an intense amount of steadying power. “Well.”
“Well’s right,” Tony says.
He doesn’t know what he is. He doesn’t know what the hell okay even means anymore.
But Peter’s here. Peter’s here and he’s safe and that’s important, that’s really the only thing that matters, when it comes down to it.
Not all the voices in Tony’s head. Not all the things he has to change.
~
Peter doesn’t talk about what happened. No details, not yet, and none of them ask, because they all know the moment’s gonna come when he has to talk about it. Happy and the CIA guy show back up, which Tony thinks is an indicator that Rhodey and some cops are coming, but they don’t get there yet. Tony never dreads Rhodey’s arrival anywhere, and it makes him sick that’s the feeling that keeps presenting itself in his head.
He doesn’t wanna know he’s afraid he’s afraid—
But Peter eats everything they brought him—grilled chicken sandwich and mixed vegetables and a sweet potato, broccoli and cheese, corn and macaroni, about a gallon of lemonade and three cupcakes for dessert.
For a bit, it seems like he isn’t gonna go to sleep right away, but as soon as Tony climbs into the bed with him, Peter cuddles up against his side and falls asleep soon as he closes his eyes.
It isn’t even that late, it’s only about seven by the time it happens, but May falls asleep against Ben’s shoulder a little while after, and he starts drifting, too. The nurse comes in occasionally, and Tony just wishes he could speed up time—get Peter out of here, get him home, get the goddamn conversation over with, moving on with their lives now now now, but he has a terrible feeling that he’s so anxious to get going because he knows that there’s a big chance that he’s gonna hit a wall, and be unable to figure out how to get past it if he doesn’t get on it soon.
He has to get past it. They do, as a team, like they always do with everything, but the massive weight of his failure is bearing down on him. His inability to solve this, as Peter’s father, his lack of power in the situation—how does he fix it? How does he get past it? Peter’s the thing that matters most to him, and he was taken, just like that, so easily. How does Tony stop that from happening again? How does he protect him and everyone around him?
He feels so far away and disconnected from everything, and he doesn’t know if he’s in the right place in his life, if he should shift away from some things and closer to others, if he should make different decisions, if he should give in to these selfish hands pushing him somewhere he might not want to be. He’s chock full of rash decisions and things he shouldn’t do that are fueled by anger and fear, and he feels like the man he was before—the boy, the child, lost and cowering in a dead man’s shadow. He’s just sitting here, holding the most important thing in the world in his arms, but inside he’s out of control.
Pepper is moving around, cleaning up what’s left of Peter’s dinner. She throws a paper cup in the trash. “We should get him some more water,” she says. “So he has it if he wants it when he wakes up.”
“Okay,” Tony says, softly. He hears Ben snore, and he looks over and sees him resting his head on top of May’s. He knows this has been a fucking ordeal for all of them. He himself is gonna crash soon, he knows it, but he can’t let it happen when everything is still so raw.
He looks at Pepper. He swallows hard, and the shame of what happened to her, too, because of him, burns in his face. She got hurt and she loves Peter too and Tony hones in on the bruise on her forehead that almost mirrors Peter’s, and he clears his throat. “You’re staying at my place, yeah?” he asks, even more ashamed to say he hardly knows where anybody was last night, barely knows where the hell he was let alone anybody else.
“I did last night,” she says, clearing her throat too. “But I can—”
“I’m gonna have some guys come out and, uh, install a security system at your place and redo the locks,” he says. “I’ll do it for Ben and May, too, but you can—I’d like you to, uh, stay with me. At our place, when we go back. For the next couple days.” His ears are burning and his eyes are a little blurry and he holds Peter closer. “Things are gonna be a little crazy for a week or so and we have to work on that, together, maybe have Obie over and have him make some statements, but, uh, in the end I’d rather you—stay with me, for a little bit. If you could. If you—if you would.” He cracks his jaw, looks at her hard for a second before looking away. He feels like he just cut his chest open and bared his heart to her, and he brushes Peter’s hair back from his forehead and tries to be normal.
“Okay,” Pepper says, without a fight or any excuses. “I will, I’ll—I should go back to my apartment tomorrow and grab some things—”
“Okay,” Tony says, and he’s about to say we’ll go with you but he doesn’t want to presume to bring Peter back there quite yet without it being his choice. “I’m sure Ben or Happy will drive you by.”
She nods, not looking at him. She keeps getting rid of the dinner plates and putting them on the table by the door, and he wants to tell her to stop cleaning, that someone will come, but he doesn’t get the words out.
But then she’s stopping, and then she’s pulling the chair over to sit beside the bed, and she glances up at him.
“He’s okay,” she says, simply.
Tony nods, trying not to cry again. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Are you?”
She stares at him for a second. “Yeah, yeah,” she says, looking away quickly.
~
Peter sleeps until eight the next morning, and Rhodey calls about thirty minutes after breakfast, after Peter is cleared to leave. They’re packing up, and Peter rejects the wheelchair, but holds tight to Tony’s hand.
“I don’t want that many people in the house, Rhodey, can we—manage that?” Tony asks, as May works a jacket onto Peter’s shoulders, making him let go of Tony’s hand briefly before he quickly retakes it.
“Just me and two detectives,” Rhodey says. “Promise. We just wanna make sure we have the full story, but from our end it looks like we’ve got the right guy, and the only one involved.”
“Alright, alright, I just want it to go fast,” Tony says.
“It will,” Rhodey says. “And I just wanted to remind you—Obie was instrumental in this, Tones. He’s not saying and he’s not stepping up but he found the guy’s profile, he found the last known locations when we couldn’t get into the security cameras up there, he locked down all the guy’s properties—”
Tony’s heart goes warm and he nods. “I’ll talk to him today,” he says. “Promise, I’ll call him up right after I see you, okay?”
“Alright, I’m just saying, he’s not trying to make a big deal but he loves you, man, he loves you both and was up all night just like I was trying to solve this.”
Tony doesn’t know what Rhodey is trying to prove, here—he’s close with Obie, they butt heads a lot, sure, but he’s definitely close, a warmer echo of what Howard used to be. Of course he wasn’t gonna sit back and do nothing when Peter got kidnapped.
“I know,” Tony says, as May pats Peter on the back and stands up alongside the others. “I love him too, and I’ll see you soon, alright?” He clears his throat and turns away from Peter a bit. “Just make it as easy on the monkey as you can, alright?”
“You know I will,” Rhodey says. “Just Uncle Rhodey asking for some details, that’s it.”
Tony hangs up with him after that, and Peter steps a little bit closer to him as they all start heading for the door.
“All good?” Ben asks, with Peter’s clothes in the duffel bag under his arm.
Tony nods at him, and sees May out in the hallway with Pepper, the two of them talking to Rachel, the nurse that was primarily looking after Peter. Tony figures Happy is down with the car already, waiting for them.
Ben moves out into the hallway too, and Tony swallows hard, squeezing Peter’s hand. He feels like he’s panicking, like he needs a sword and shield as he moves out into the world with his son again, and he doesn’t know how to shake this feeling. Like they’re exposed, like any second some other asshole is gonna come out of nowhere and try to snatch Peter again. Try to take Peter, try to hurt the people Tony loves, and Peter takes a step closer to him and leans against his hip.
Tony leans down and picks him up, because it’ll be harder for anybody to grab him if Tony has him in his arms.
Peter lets out a big yawn and lays his head on Tony’s shoulder.
“Still tired, monkey?” Tony asks. He starts following the others, who are all sending him anxious looks over their shoulders, and then acting like they’re not doing it at all.
“Sleepy sleepy,” Peter says, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck. His voice is getting less raspy, which is good.
“You were snoring up a storm,” Tony says, clutching him close as they head for the elevator.
“Wanna sleep for twenty million days,” Peter says, sounding too old for his own good.
~
Tony feels fucking sick, when Rhodey and the cops get to his place. Thankfully, Peter knows it’s safe because it’s Rhodey, but Tony notices how he looks at the other men, even though they’re blatantly police officers. He’s never liked strangers but now that’s amped up to one hundred, but he tells his story diligently when Rhodey asks.
“He kicked down the door and pushed inside,” Peter says, squashed in between Tony and Rhodey. “And he had a knife and a gun and me and Pepper were both runnin’ and yelling to him to go away and stuff but he kept on coming, and Pepper stepped in front of me and tell me to run but the man hit her and grabbed me. She fell and that was it and I was so scared.”
“But she’s fine, buddy,” Tony says, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s—”
“Right here, sweetheart!” she says, from the kitchen. “Just making you the cocoa.”
“With a million marshmallows,” May calls, too.
The detectives both smile a little bit, but Peter barely matches it, even though he tries. He clears his throat and keeps going, and Tony feels fucking sick. Dizzy, like he’s gonna pass out, and he feels Rhodey’s hand reach around behind Peter and grip Tony’s wrist.
“And, um, I was yelling for Pepper and for daddy and for anybody and then the man knocked me against the wall and I was sleep right away,” Peter says, and Tony sways. “And I woke up somewhere I didn’t know where it was and my hands were tied together and my feet were too and I yelled and cried and cried and nobody was there.” He sighs and Tony feels like everyone can hear his own heartbeat, blaring and stuttering, and he shifts closer to Peter, as if that’s even possible.
“And he didn’t come down to see you, or he did?” Rhodey asks, gently.
“He did the one time after a long amount of time by myself,” Peter says. “My throat hurt from all the yelling, I don’t even know how much yelling I did but I know it was a lot lot, but he didn’t come down and nobody else either. He came down the one time with soup but I didn’t talk to him and I didn’t eat the soup neither, because it was bad from bad guy stranger and daddy says no food from strangers whether it’s food I like or not.”
“That’s right,” Tony croaks out, almost on autopilot. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Yeah I was supposed to do that so I didn’t eat and he stared at me for a while and I asked where daddy was and who he was and he didn’t say anything and then he left,” Peter says, and he shrinks down a little bit, leaning into Tony’s chest. “And I was alone again and I cried and cried and maybe slept a little bit and yelled some more and nobody heard me, and then I decided to start working on my hands and feet to try and get the ropes off.”
Tony tries to breathe. Tries.
“Do you know how long that took, buddy?” Rhodey asks. “Did you hear any other voices other than the man that was there?”
“TV voices upstairs,” Peter says. “Didn’t sound real and didn’t sound like they were talking for real in real life. Uh don’t know how long it took but when I heard the noises I’d already gotten my hands out when I heard the big noises so I sped up real fast when I heard the noises and I didn’t know it was you guys, good guys and daddy, so I went the fastest fast and got my feet out and crawled out through the window.”
“You broke it, right?” Rhodey asks. He looks up at Tony. “We found a broken window near the ground, it led into the basement.”
“Yup, broke it,” Peter says. “Threw a thing. Rock kinda thing and then crawled out. Scratched my leg a little but no big blood. And then daddy was there and I ran to him and that’s all I remember.”
“That’s all,” Tony says, glancing at the cops. “That’s it. That’s all he remembers.”
Ben comes out then, from remaking Peter’s and Pepper’s beds, and Tony’s hearing goes in and out for a second. His vision blurs and tilts and he blinks, knowing they’re speaking but unable to hear them, for a second. For longer than a second. He doesn’t know if they’re talking to him, and he genuinely feels like he’s gonna pass out.
A second. A second.
He pictures it.
Pictures the things Peter said.
His baby, tied up, crying in some stranger’s basement.
A stranger that stole him, that hurt him and kept him.
“Tony.”
“Daddy?”
Tony blinks, and sways, and he can’t see really, just movement around him, and he kisses the top of Peter’s head, barely managing it before he gets to his feet.
Don’t leave him, don’t leave him
“Just for a second,” he says, stumbling out of the room, glancing back to see May beside Peter, thankfully, alongside Rhodey, and Tony nearly trips over his own feet trying to get away, and why is he trying to get away, what’s, what’s happening to him, is he having a panic attack? Is he embarrassed for Peter to see him this way? What the hell is he doing? What the hell is happening?
He’s in his room dry heaving over the trash can when Rhodey and Ben are suddenly there beside him, hands on his back.
“Tony, Tony, it’s fine—”
“He’s okay, we’ve got the guy, there’s no more—”
“He’s fine, he’s safe, we’re gonna stay with you guys for a couple days—”
“I’ll stick around too, Tones, honestly—”
“I just let this happen,” Tony barely chokes out, straightening up again, pacing around the room with them following him. He feels like his world is getting smaller. Like it’s consuming him, eating him alive, crushing his chest and his windpipe. Twisting his heart in its hand. “This guy took—he took my kid, and he tied him up—”
“Stop,” Ben says, taking him by the shoulders. “Stop, stop, alright? It’s over, we have him back—”
“It never should have happened,” Tony gasps, unable to get enough air. “It never should have goddamn happened—”
“Tony,” Rhodey says. “This happens to regular people, let alone people like you, but we handled it, we got him back before it even hit two complete days—”
“I just,” Tony gasps again, shivering, and he pitches forward again, but this time his forehead lands on Ben’s shoulder. “It’s just—him, it’s him, my little Pete, and he had to deal with that and he’ll always—have those goddamn memories, because of me, because I couldn’t—couldn’t prevent this, and that’s my fault, I wasn’t there, he was calling for me and I wasn’t there—”
“Tony, you’re okay—”
“It’s fine now, it’s over, he’s here and it’s not gonna happen again—”
“How, how do we know that,” Tony says, and he clears his throat and stumbles away from Ben, but then—
“Daddy.”
And Peter’s there, his arms tight around Tony’s middle.
And it sends him careening back down to earth.
He realizes he’d been seeing in black and white, in old film grain, a lack of detail, lack of air, lack of space. How can he be the person that can stop this from happening again? That’s what’s been swirling around in his head, halting him in his tracks, but he wasn’t thinking right—no matter what, Peter trusts him. This didn’t shake his trust at all. All he knows is that Tony was there for him, in the end, he was out there he was there to grab him up when Peter ran outside, and that’s all the kid knows.
Peter doesn’t doubt him, ever. To Peter, Tony is always that guy who can do anything. He always has been, and he still is now.
And he’s gotta be that. He’s gotta be that for him. Even if he doesn’t think it’s possible, even if he doesn’t know how—he’s gotta make it possible. Peter’s all that matters, that’s it, that’s all.
“Sorry, monkey,” Tony says, finally focusing, kneeling down in front of him. He quickly wraps him up in his arms, standing up with him. “Sorry, monk, I’m sorry.” He cups the back of Peter’s head, glancing back at Rhodey and Ben. His cheeks burn.
“It’s okay, you okay?” Peter’s tiny voice asks.
Tony’s face burns even worse. Peter, concerned about him, right fucking now, and always, and goddamnit he doesn’t deserve him, he doesn’t. “I’m okay, baby bear,” Tony says, rubbing his back. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” Peter says, quick, and he hugs him, humming a little bit.
“I’m gonna go with those two and make sure everything’s sorted, and then I’ll be back, okay?” Rhodey says, squeezing Tony’s arm and ruffling Peter’s hair. “Real quick.”
“Okay,” Tony says, swallowing hard. Rhodey nods at him and he leaves, and Peter heaves a sigh as Tony focuses on Ben. Ben, who doesn’t really look at him in pity, not really, even though Tony wouldn’t be surprised if he did. But Ben always sees the best in him, for some God forsaken reason. Ben, who looks at him with confidence even now, fondness and concern, too.
“Big day, big lunch?” Ben asks. “Big dinner too?” He raises his eyebrows and nods at Tony, like he’s trying to guide him along, and then he steps closer and rubs Peter’s back. “What’s Petey monkey want, huh? Anything you want, munchkin, I got you covered.”
Peter shifts, and twists in Tony’s arms so he’s looking at Ben. “Cheesy baked potatoes?” he asks, tucked under Tony’s chin.
Ben grins at him, and Tony too. “Absolutely.”
~
Tony knows normal can feel faraway, sometimes. He remembers what it was like after his parents died, how every step felt like the wrong one, like every laugh was out of place and incorrect—like there was no possible way to get his life back. Any version of it. Any type of day that could be called normal, his version of normal, normal’s version of normal, any of it. He felt like that after Mary died, too, but normal wasn’t normal then, either, it was forming something new, something better, something he never knew he’d actually have in his grasp and be able to call normal.
But now that normal, his preferred normal, is warped, and altered, and shaken. And he doesn’t know how to mold it back into what it was. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. And that’s the normal he wanted, the life he loved, and now it’s—and now it’s—he doesn’t wanna say gone. It can’t be gone. It can’t be.
They try to do things and move on like all of that shit didn’t happen, like Peter wasn’t in the hospital most of the day yesterday, and tied up in some prick’s basement the day before. Tony keeps staring at him like he doesn’t believe he’s here, but he doesn’t have to look far, because Peter is usually either following him or in his arms.
The seconds pass like hours.
Ben makes the potatoes for lunch and Peter seems content for a little bit there, eating with his chair shoved up close to Tony’s, and he seems to be okay whenever he’s doing something, which they let him choose, every single time. Petey wants to play airplane? Done deal. Petey wants to watch people from the balcony? Absolutely. Petey wants to build his castle when Rhodey gets there? Every single one of them is on board like there’s nothing else they want to do.
He requests chicken parmigiana for dinner, which they whip up in what feels like an assembly line. And Tony thinks Ben is getting a little annoyed, too many cooks in the kitchen, but he never once says anything, and he holds Peter up to help more often than not.
Tony keeps looking at the bandage on Peter’s forehead.
Tony keeps looking at Pepper. Listening to her quiet.
He keeps falling into his own head and having to dig himself out again.
They sit there and watch Air Bud for the fifth or sixth time since Peter saw it last month, but they’re all happy to do it this time, and they make popcorn and Ben heats up pizza bites and Tony feels like he’s just about to burst with how much comfort food they’re working into this equation. Rhodey makes jokes and May plays along and Tony doesn’t know if they’re trying too hard or what, but he’s just not processing this. He doesn’t know how to.
Peter twists around in his arms around midway through the movie and looks at him with expectant eyes.
“You okay?” Tony asks. He presses one hand to Peter’s chest, feeling the thump thump thump of his heart.
Peter doesn’t say anything, and he just motions for him to come closer like he does when he wants to tell him a secret. Tony smiles a little and leans in, and Peter cups his hands around Tony’s ear. Tony figures he’s gonna tell him some fact about the movie he picked up along the way, or some sweet compliment about Ben’s cooking, or something funny about Rhodey’s commentary.
Peter sucks in a breath. “I love you,” he says, simply.
They say it a lot. They say it all the time, but this particular time nearly knocks Tony out of the earth’s orbit. Peter pulls back and smiles softly at him, and Tony just gazes for a second, unable to possibly comprehend just how good Peter is. He’s tearing up again and he shakes his head, tugging Peter against his chest.
“Love you love you love you,” he whispers, cradling him, listening to a little rumble of delight come from Peter as he clutches at Tony’s arm. “Love you to the moon and back. Into the sky and bouncing off each star—”
“And rolling around all the planets and skating off Saturn’s rings,” Peter whispers.
“And grabbing onto comet’s tails,” Tony says, kissing his cheek a bunch of times. “My monkey.”
~
They all stay. Peter falls asleep a little while after the movie ends, and Tony still doesn’t know how to breathe right after he puts him to bed.
“He wanted to stay with you?” May asks, the two of them standing in front of Tony’s own closed door.
“Yeah,” Tony says, swallowing hard and looking down at their feet. “He asked me, but I was already thinking it. I’d be sweating about someone scaling the building and breaking into his window. I gotta get it reinforced or something, I don’t even know.”
“Get the same security guys that you have working with us and Pepper—”
“I’ve got plenty of video,” Tony says, looking back up at her. “I got all that and a bag of chips. I’ve got Jarvis taking notes twenty four seven. But I need—shit, I don’t even know what I need.”
“It’s not gonna happen again,” May says.
Something anxious stirs in Tony’s chest, and he shakes his head. “Yeah.”
“It won’t.”
Tony blows out a breath. “In a perfect world it never happened to begin with.”
“Tony,” she says. “A lot of people never ever see their child again. For you being who you are, so—in the public eye, we were very lucky. Of course it shouldn’t have happened, and fuck him, I hope he goes to jail for the rest of his life, but we can—we can move on from this. He can, and he will.”
Tony needs that, he needs it, it’s all he needs, but he’s lost at sea and can’t see the shore. He doesn’t want to break down on her—his whole display in front of Ben earlier was plenty enough—so he clears his throat. “Are you still able to—be here tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” May says, gently. “Neither one of us is going back until Monday.” She cranes her neck a little bit to look at him. “You’re gonna be alright tonight?”
“Yeah,” Tony says, turning back towards his door. “Yeah, uh—omelets in the morning?”
She smiles softly at him. “I’ll tell Ben.”
~
Tony lays there and brushes Peter’s hair back in the low blue light of the TV. He’s got on Jimmy Neutron just in case Peter wakes up and wants to watch something. He knows he shouldn’t encourage the kid waking up and being active in the middle of the night, but things aren’t exactly working the way they should right now, and he’s not exactly in the running for dad of the year.
But for now, Peter is sound asleep, and not in the throes of a nightmare quite yet, though Tony wouldn’t be surprised if it gets to that point, after everything.
And Tony stares at him, and readjusts the blankets around his shoulders, and keeps running his fingers through his hair. He’s always looking at Peter, every moment they’re around each other, which is almost every moment, but he feels like he’s really looking at him now. His eyelashes against his cheeks. The way he breathes slightly through his mouth when he’s sleeping. His little snub nose. How curly and tangly his hair is when it hasn’t been brushed.
Tony thumbs over the bandage on his forehead and wonders if he should replace it when Peter wakes up.
Some stupid prick, knocking his kid’s head against the wall so hard—
Tony tries to hold in his wave of anger, and he leans down and gently presses the bridge of his nose to Peter’s temple. He knows he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t wake him up on purpose, but he can’t help it—he presses his hand to Peter’s chest and breathes him in, and he’s soothed for the moment, anyway, by the calmness of Peter’s heart.
Tony hears a muffled goddamnit from the closest guest room, where Pepper’s staying. Then a small thump follows it, and Tony narrows his eyes. Peter hasn’t stirred yet, thankfully, and Tony hears another thump next door, and another exclamation from Pepper. She sounds like she’s trying to keep her voice down, but she also sounds like she’s having some kind of a problem, because he usually can’t hear whoever’s staying in that room.
Tony knows what the hell she’s been through. What she’s going through. He remembers the state his mind was in before all this shit happened, when he was running out to get her medicine—and Jesus, she’s still sick through all this shit—and he sucks in a breath. He presses a kiss to Peter’s forehead, caressing his cheek, and then he gently pulls away, and gets out of bed as easily as he can so he doesn’t disturb him. He walks out of the room and into the hallway, leaving his door open so he can hear Peter if he calls for him.
The light under Ben and May’s door is out, but Pepper’s door is a bit open, and Tony can see her moving around in there, walking back and forth. He knows he’s in his own damn house but he feels like he should knock first, even though the door is open. And he does, gently, but he sees her jump anyways, which makes him feel like shit.
“Tony,” she whispers, and she marches over and peels the door open quickly, before moving away from him just as fast. “I’m sorry, I—I was just trying to put a new bandage on this thing, but apparently that’s—apparently I’m no longer capable of handling something like that, I guess.”
Tony cracks his jaw, glances over his shoulder to make sure Peter didn’t come out needing him. But he’s not there, and Tony takes a couple more steps into the room. She’s standing there in front of the dresser mirror, and he sees a brush on the ground, her phone next to it. The bandage wrappings are balled up on the dresser next to the knocked over box itself, along with the discarded bandages.
“Well, what’s going on?” he asks her, approaching slowly, watching as she tries to do it again.
“I keep getting bubbles,” she says, gritting her teeth. “And I’m not precious, like Peter, I can’t pull off the ‘bandage slapped across my forehead’ look like he can.” She clears her throat like that isn’t what she wanted to say exactly, and he just stands there like an idiot. She’s struggling, her hands are shaking, there are tears in her eyes, and what does he do, what—what should he—what needs to be done? Is he even capable of doing things anymore? Things of worth? Things to help the people he loves?
Loves. There’s that word.
Is there any use in denying it when he’s this low? This far down? Won’t denying it only drown him faster? That was usually the case, in his life before, and in the hours before getting Peter back, he was the closest to that life than he has been since the moment he held that baby in his arms for the first time.
He swallows hard and walks over to her.
“Hey, hey, alright there, Miss Potts,” Tony says. She scoffs and her arms fall limp at her sides, and he turns her around to face him. “Yeah,” he says, gently peeling off the bandage she’s managed to completely decimate, somehow. “Yeah, this one—you’ve made a victim out of this one.” He places it on the dresser.
“Of course,” she says, her eyes suddenly downcast.
He takes a brief step to the side, grabbing another bandage out of the box and starting to unwrap it. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m sort of a band-aid expert,” he says.
“Oh yeah?” she asks, still not looking at him.
“Yeah, it’s mostly...mostly focused in the Scooby Doo variety,” Tony says. He concentrates, placing the soft part of it against her cut and bruise, and then he smooths the sides down. “Sometimes—Ninja Turtle, occasionally, if we’re feeling fancy.” He makes sure it’s pressed down properly, and then he nods at her. “There. No bubbles. Completely flat, as ordered.”
She stands there for a second, still looking down, still not saying anything.
Tony feels like he’s half in this world, half in another, and he’s frozen too. He feels like his sadness is permeating, and hers too, and they’re meeting in the middle in a hazy cloud.
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Jesus, Tony, this is all my fault—”
“No,” he says, taking her by the shoulders now. “Pep, c’mon.”
“I should have just—beaten that man to death,” she says. “Just—”
“I’m not asking you to kill for me,” he says, laughing a little bit. “And it’s just—Pepper, this isn’t anybody’s fault. Like May keeps telling us. May and Ben, they know what they’re talking about, I’m pretty sure...different life experiences, you know, a lot more sense in their heads…”
She finally looks up. Her eyes are all red and she cracks her jaw. “I love him too, you know,” she says. “I love him so much, and I—I just—Tony, I’m so sorry.”
A chill runs through him and he shakes his head. Now he knows how people feel when he blames himself, and it’s an awful, sinking feeling in his chest. A tear tracks down her face and he reaches up and brushes it away without thinking.
And before he knows it she’s leaning in and pressing her forehead against his. His heart is beating faster than it ever has, maybe, and he’s been in a lot of different positions in a lot of different places, but even being this close to her...this close…
He’s still touching her face.
And a thousand different memories of her are flooding his head, her hair in the wind and her smile flashing his way and the lilting of her laughter, and she is too good for him, she is, but if that’s the case then what the hell is happening? In the direct aftermath of one of the worst fucking things to ever happen to him?
“Pepper,” he whispers.
“Tony,” she says, reaching up and covering his hand with her own. “I’m just—”
Then he hears Peter cry out in fear. Peter, calling for him.
“One sec,” he says, in a panic, and he barely sees her nod before he’s pulling away and running back for his bedroom. Peter yells again, yells out for him, and Tony skids on the hardwood floor before careening back into his own room.
Peter is sitting up, looking around wildly, and when he sees Tony there he starts to rush out of bed.
“Dad, daddy—”
Tony meets him before his feet can hit the ground, and he gathers him up in his arms. Peter’s trembling like he was when Tony first scooped him up, at the fucking place where he’d escaped, and Tony sits back on the bed, cradling him close.
“It’s okay,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s back. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Pete.”
“Dreamed it wasn’t,” Peter says, clutching at him, and he lets out a little sob and tries to pull himself closer. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to—”
Tony pulls back so they’re looking at each other. “No sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “No sorries from you ever. Never. You never have anything to apologize for, okay? You never do anything wrong, not one thing.” Peter’s lip wobbles and Tony pulls him in again, cupping the back of his head.
“You know you’re my person, right?” Tony asks, rocking him back and forth. “Like my person, person, my numero uno, best pal?”
“Ah huh,” Peter says. “And you’re my gold at the end of the—end of the rainbow.” He’s trying not to hiccup.
“And I’m always gonna be there for you,” Tony says, holding him tighter. “Always. Even if you think I’m not. Even if I’m not there, I will be. Okay? I’d do anything for you, kiddo, okay? You gotta know that.”
Peter sniffles, twisting around and nuzzling into his neck. “Even in my bad dreams?”
“Even then,” Tony says, squeezing his shoulder. “Even in every alternate reality.”
“Even in the daydreams too that are bad?” Peter says, calming down a little bit.
Tony smiles to himself. “Every time, okay? Every time. It’s me and you. You’re my little person.”
“You’re my big person.”
Tony kisses his cheek. “Look at me, monkey.”
Peter pulls back to look, holding onto his shoulder. He scrubs at his eyes with his free hand.
“You okay?” Tony asks. Peter’s definitely calmed down a little bit, because he’s not shaking anymore. He nods at him, sniffling. “You need anything? Water? Snack?”
“No,” Peter says. “Full tummy still.”
“Alright, muffin head,” Tony says, tracing his thumb over his cheek, brushing his hair back quickly. “Ready to go back to sleep? Because my dream version is gonna come with you.”
“Dream version?” Peter asks.
Tony nods. “Yup, as soon as you go to sleep, I’m gonna send the dream version of me in after you, and he’s a knight in shining armor, okay? With a big ole shield and a big ole sword and he can fight off any bad guys or monsters that touch little Petey. And he can train little Petey to be his own knight, too.”
Peter’s eyes are a little bit brighter. “Yeah?” he asks.
“Yes, sir.”
Peter nods, swallowing hard. “Okay, good,” he says. “Just let him in and I’ll sit on a rock or something and wait.”
Tony snorts and they both start laying down again, on their sides, and Peter burrows close and Tony wraps his arms around him. “A rock,” he says.
“Is ancient knight times,” Peter says, already closing his eyes once he’s gotten as close as he can. “No comfy chairs and just beds made of straw. I just wait on the rock, it is what it is.”
Tony is always filled with absolute insane amounts of love when Peter starts saying weird shit like that, and he rubs his back up and down in hopes of lulling him into a peaceful sleep. “Alright,” he says. “Monkey. I will meet you on the rock.”
“Love you,” Peter says.
“Love you too, always and forever,” Tony says.
About twenty minutes later, after Peter is snoring, Tony sneaks back out into the hallway. But Pepper’s door is closed, and the light is out. So puts it all on a back burner, where it probably needs to be for now, and walks back into his room, cuddling back up to Peter again.
He’s home.