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This one’s for the lonely child
Brokenhearted, running wild
This was written for the one to blame
One who believe they are the cause of chaos and everything
You may find yourself in the dead of night
Lost somewhere up in the great big beautiful sky
You were all just perfect little satellites
Spinning round and round this broken earthly life
This is so you'll know the sound
Of someone who loves you from the ground
Tonight you're not alone at all
This is me sending out my satellite call
- “Satellite Call” by Sara Bareilles
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1.
It’d been going on for nearly a year. His dad would alternate between his normal, manic self, and this… quiet statue of a Stark. Silence had never been something any Stark had ever learned, so it freaked Peter out a little - enough for him to give up his dorm in Empire State to live at home full-time instead of just the weekends.
If he were honest with himself though, he knew this started long before that. The nightmares started in Afghanistan, and they only grew from there.
Afghanistan. Stane. Palladium. The wormhole. Killian. And now Ultron.
Peter should have stayed home. He’d left for college soon after ‘The Battle of New York’ - his dad had encouraged him to live in the dorms, to “get the full college experience”. But now he knew it was really only to keep Peter from worrying. Not that it worked, considering Killian attacked the Malibu house not six months into his freshman year and he had to spend a chunk of his first term doing remote classes in a safe house.
He didn’t know what he was thinking, not going home after that whole ordeal. But dad said everything was fine, Auntie Pep said everything was fine, even Uncle Bruce said everything was fine. So he stayed at school, aced all his classes, and visited home every weekend.
For a while, things really did seem to be running smooth. His dad had the arc reactor removed, no world ending things were happening, and his dad finally had more friends he could hang out with.
Then SHIELD tanked, and Ultron happened. Peter didn’t know exactly what went on there. All he knew was that there were weird brain whammies where everyone saw their own versions of the worst thing ever, and that it spooked his dad enough to think using an evil scepter to complete Ultron was a good idea, and that it caused Uncle Bruce to run away.
And now, his dad probably hadn’t slept more than three hours at a time for the past year, refused to even recognise his nightmares existed, and there was no one Peter and Aunt May could call to help knock some sense into him. There was no Uncle Bruce, all the Avengers were busy in upstate New York, and Auntie Pep broke up with his dad. It felt a lot like 2010 in Peter’s books. (1)
So when his dad started talking about the Sokovia Accords, Peter listened.
“I always thought I knew what was best for the world.” his dad said, “So I built weapons. I built Iron Man. I built Ultron. And I was only right about one. I think it’s time I listened to other people, and listening to the voice of 117 countries is probably a good start.”
His dad smiled wryly at him then. Peter knew this decision didn’t come lightly - that it was mired with guilt and the desperate urge to make amends - but Peter also knew his dad truly believed that Iron Man, and the Avengers, needed more than themselves to guide them, to make sure they weren’t being blinded by their own fears.
“Think your old man’s matured a bit, Petey? Or is this just senility?”
“I don’t know.” Peter answered. “Possibly a little bit of both. But… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to listen to other people. Even if you don’t follow them every time, you should at least be willing to just… hear it out, right? No matter what though, I believe in you. I believe you’ll make the right decision.”
His dad nodded, and left for the new facility the next day.
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2.
When Peter peeled himself off the ground, bruised and battered from the battle - a battle against Cap, Wanda, Sam, Clint, a known criminal, and a giant man, of all things - all he wanted to do was book a local hotel and sleep for a year.
Unfortunately he had homework, an exam in three days, and most importantly, Aunt May was due for a visit soon. In all the excitement, neither he nor his dad had gotten around to telling her they were going out of the country, and now would probably be a particularly suspicious time to tell her not to visit if Spider-Man were sighted.
Then he heard the loud boom of something falling from the sky, and let adrenaline take him to the source. Where his dad was holding Uncle Rhodey and crying. Sam was out cold a few feet away from them, and Vision was there but Vision probably already knew who he was, so Peter barely hesitated before running forward to sit beside his dad.
“Is he okay? Well. I mean. Obviously not, but is he… I mean…”
“He’s alive. Med evac en route.”
“Oh thank god. What do we do? Should we take him out of the suit while we wait for the med evac? I can keep him still so we don’t move his spine. That’s a thing, right?”
“You will go into the city, change into normal clothes, and take a flight back home under the emergency identity we brought along for you. Understood?”
“What! But I…”
“Peter. Stand down. Please. I need you safe. I don’t know who’s going to be here with the med evac. Please. Go home.”
Peter didn’t want to, but he knew him staying would only cause complications his dad didn’t need right now. So he did.
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3.
When his dad got home, exhausted and utterly defeated, Peter officially bumped 2010 into the #2 worst year of his life. 2016 was officially #1. At least in 2010, his dad had Auntie Pep and Uncle Rhodey to talk to. Even last year, when Auntie Pep was out of the picture, Uncle Rhodey and the Avengers were kind of still available for the worst emergencies. Now, there was no one.
Physically, yes, Uncle Rhodey and Vision were still around. But Peter knew his dad, and Vision was too tied with memories of JARVIS and Ultron, and Uncle Rhodey… well. His dad would never “burden” Uncle Rhodey now.
Peter, meanwhile, was just a kid. Sure, he loved his dad and his dad loved him - there was definitely a lot of love going around - but he was someone his dad would always be compelled to coddle, to protect, to keep oblivious. There was no way he could help his dad the way the others once could - the way “equals” could.
Right now though, he could help design and implement the tower renovations to accommodate Uncle Rhodey’s needs. That was at least one thing off his dad’s plate, and the sooner it was done, the sooner they could all be back home.
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4.
Peter rarely got angry, so he had no idea what to do whenever he was. He was not too proud to admit he lost it a little when he found out about Cap’s little “gift.”
Peter’s anger was a cold, quiet, seething thing. Cap almost killed Peter’s dad, and he had the gall to continue pretending he was a friend? And what did he even mean by ‘hopefully one day you can understand’? Understand what? And Cap went on about having faith in people, and that he’d be there if his dad needed him, but where was he now? Where was The Great Captain America the past month?
Oh yeah. Not believing in Tony Stark. Thinking he knew better than everyone else and trusting his own personal compromised self over his teammates, over Peter’s dad. What was he doing, rubbing it in Peter’s dad’s face that Tony Stark was not one of those people Steve Rogers had faith in?
He wanted to throw the phone out the window, and only his dad’s desperate grip on it was stopping him.
And because he couldn’t throw away the phone and burn the letter without hurting his dad, Peter ran to his room and cried.
He knew how much Cap, how much the Avengers, meant to his dad. He knew how much his dad loved them and took care of them, and how much his dad shied away from any recognition. It hurt, and it made him angry, that no one saw that. That they looked at his dad and saw a mask, and never bothered to look deeper.
That was how Uncle Rhodey found him a few hours later, hunched in on himself in a corner of his room, tears still flowing.
“Hey Pete.” Uncle Rhodey said as he gignerly settled down beside Peter. “I know you’re angry for your father, and really, I am too. But being angry won’t help us right now. Steve… His entire life, Steve had always been told he was a good person. Even when he was disobeying orders or… or getting into fights, someone, in the end, always told him that he had a good heart. And yes, that made him dangerous. Made him think his judgment was to be trusted more than others’. I can’t say I agree with him, but I know why he did what he did. Doesn’t make him right. Doesn’t make what Tony and I did right, either. Because who can really, definitively, say that they’re right? No one, that’s who.”
Peter’s mouth pinched, and he looked away.
“But I don’t regret it. I don’t regret it, and neither does your dad. Because we have to believe in the people we protect. And when 117 countries of the people we protect tell us they want more accountability - that’s something I can compromise for. Definitely.”
Rhodey paused.
“Anyway, that’s not really the point I was trying to get at. The point is… your dad, he’s used to being the bad guy. Even when he did what was right, when he tried his best to do good by others, every single time, someone was there to tell him he was wrong, that he was arrogant, that he was at fault. And us being angry at these people… what will it accomplish?”
Rhodey sighed, and put his hand on Peter’s head.
“What I’m trying to say is, the best thing we can do right now is to try to tell him he did good. That he’s not a bad guy. That this is not all his fault. We have to step back. It’s okay to be angry at what happened, but it’s more important to look ahead. See what we can fix.”
Peter just buried his head back in his arms.
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5.
Dad’s birthday this year was quieter than the last. The tower renovations weren’t done, and Peter wondered if he should just move in here to the Avengers complex instead of having his dad, Uncle Rhodey, and Vision move to the tower.
Maybe there were less memories here. The tower, after all, was the Avengers’ home for years. This was more like… a training ground. Headquarters. Maybe they could just start over again here.
He wouldn’t really know. It sucked being the kid.
The mood was somber, even when Aunt May dropped by to cook everyone a veritable feast of comfort food. It was all strained smiles and stilted conversation. Nearly every topic was a landmine. In each story, each almost-happy reminiscence, someone would almost mention one of those who left, and it’d stop the conversation cold.
The only really safe topic was Peter’s school, so he babbled endlessly about his friends and his courses and his upcoming exams. By the end of his dad’s birthday lunch, Peter had succeeded in wrangling tiny smiles out of everyone, and even a fond laugh from his dad.
Every birthday night is Disney night, and that day, when they settle in to watch the new Jungle Book, Peter snuggles against his dad’s side, hangs on to one arm, and lets his dad pet his hair as if he was a child again.
“You’re a great kid, Peter. I don’t know how you managed to do it.”
Peter’s grip tightens on his dad’s arm. “You’re a great dad and a great person. All I had to do was look at you to learn.”
His dad kisses his head, and Peter knows his dad doesn’t quite believe him. But his dad deserved to believe in himself, and Peter, unlike his dad’s “friends,” won’t ever stop helping him get there.