Work Text:
Part of the Endgame Revisited series.
"Petey?" He heard a small, questioning voice at the doorway of his bedroom. Glancing up from where his head was buried in a textbook, Peter looked over and spotted the tiny, dark haired child.
Giving her his best million watt smile, Peter got up from his desk, coming over to her in the doorway, immediately noting the recent tear-tracks down her cheeks and the way her bottom lip still wobbled.
"Morglie, what's wrong? Why are you crying? Can I help?" Peter asked, crouching down in front of her, bringing himself down to her eye-level.
Morgan just nodded her head, even as she almost stuck her thumb in her mouth, but thought better of it. It was something new, Pepper had told him, something she'd stopped doing a long time before, but that had started up again ever since...Ever since Tony had gotten...home. Home being the hospital, and a medically induced coma, and a very, very unsure prognosis for survival.
They'd all done their best to keep Morgan out of the loop of information, making sure that conversations happened after bedtime, or outside, or "coded" in such a way that she wouldn't understand. But, this was the child of an MBA and literal genius with Peter didn't even know how many bachelor's, masters, and doctoral degrees ...It wasn't going to take much for her to figure out that things were very, very wrong in her world. And the fact that everyone else had come home from The Mission, but her father was still absent was a clear indicator that there was something amiss. Not to mention the heaviness, the tension, and the clear air of near mourning that even the least observant child could have picked up on. And Morgan was anything BUT unobservant.
Waiting for a verbal reply that seemed to not be forthcoming, Peter had taken Morgan's hand in his own, gently chafing it between his thumb and palm.
Morgan looked down at his hand for a long moment, then back up at his face, her expressive brown eyes shining with renewed tears, but still she was silent.
Peter, still unsure as to what Morgan was after, asked her, "Morgan, do you want to go and read a story?", trying to gain some insight and hoping that a suggestion might guide the conversation, such as it was.
Morgan's softly murmured, "yes" was barely audible, but Peter's enhanced hearing picked up her words easily. Nodding to himself, he stood up, but before he could step forward, Morgan planted herself in front of him, putting her arms up, and looking at him beseechingly.
She wants up Peter thought to himself, and he quickly bent down and picked up the little girl, before heading down the hallway to her bedroom. As soon as she realized where they were going, she started shaking her head forcefully, and muttered, "no, no no no, Peter, I want downstairs."
Surprised at her change of plans, but unbothered, Peter nodded his agreement and they were soon downstairs in the living room. There was a small stack of Morgan's reading books on the coffee table, and grabbing one, Peter headed over to Tony's recliner, thinking that it would be a comfortable place for Morgan to cuddle with him.
But, again, as soon as she realized where he was going, Morgan pulled on his shirt, her fists wrapped tightly in his cotton t-shirt as she shook her head and, more loudly than at any point thus far, stated, "no, Petey, no!"
Peter, surprised by her sudden outburst, stopped short, leaning his chest away from her so that he could look her in the eye as he spoke.
"Uhm, okay, but, Morgan, why? That's your Dad's chair, it's a nice place to read, but we can sit on the couch, if you want to?" Peter trailed off, still confused by her vehemence, and unwillingly curious as well.
Standing there for a moment longer, knowing that the easier path was just to sit down on the couch and go about the story, but Peter had a gut sense that something more was at play here. And he felt like it was important to get to the bottom of it. So, he stood and quietly formulated his next question.
"Morgan, why don't you want to sit in Dad's chair?" He asked, quietly, a sad, soft look in his eyes as he did.
Morgan, tears now inevitable, just buried her head in his shoulder, even as she rubbed her cheeks against him.
Peter reached up, softly rubbing her back, and gave the little girl a moment before he tried again.
"Morglie, it's okay to be sad, you know that, right? It's okay to be...not okay? You don't have to pretend, or be brave, or any of that stuff," Peter quietly told her, feeling the moisture of her tears as she was now fully crying against him.
Continuing to rub her back, even as he started slowly swaying back and forth, Peter thought about how weirdly...right...that felt. He'd seen adults with really young babies do that sort of swaying dance, but he'd never had any siblings, and he really hadn't had any experience with younger kids at all until he'd met Morgan. And Morgan wasn't a baby, but she was definitely clingy, quieter than how he thought she probably normally acted. Pepper said that the little girl was starting to become worryingly withdrawn, and she rarely seemed to cry. Pepper had even considered starting to look for a child therapist, just as a precaution. Pepper had seen far too much of what unaddressed trauma could do with Tony, and she already strongly suspected it with Peter, as well. Though Peter was unaware of that last fact.
A few minutes later, Peter felt a slight hiccuping inhalation from Morgan, and she tilted her head back to look at him again, those eyes, huge and brown and so much like Tony's it almost hurt the teenager to look into them.
"Uh-uh. That's Daddy's chair. He won't let Uncle Rhodey sit in his chair, he teases him and tells him it's not for plate-pusses. I don't know what a plate puss is, so maybe I'm one, too. Daddy and I always sit in his chair when he reads me stories. I don't know if we can sit in his chair...with-without---" And Morgan was once again wailing into his shirt.
Peter had to fight back tears of his own. He had only just gotten Tony back...he couldn't lose him again. Not now. Now after, not after, everything. And THIS Tony, this...DAD...he found when he suddenly took a breath again, after what he now knew was a five year blip...He couldn't lose him. Peter had lost everyone. How could the universe take Tony away from him, too? And not just him, but from this beautiful little girl, and Pepper! Morgan couldn't be allowed to lose her Daddy. Not like this. Not like he had lost his parents. Then Ben...and May...But Peter was powerless to do anything other than sit, and wait, and hope...with the rest of them. The doctors kept saying that if he woke up...then there was a chance...
Shaking his head to clear his own morose thoughts, Peter focused his attention back on the crying child in his arms. He sat down gently into the big leather chair, easing Morgan down into his lap as he did so. A few minutes passed while she continued to cry, before Peter felt her tapering off, her breathing becoming steadier. Eventually, she pulled her head back again, and she looked at him with wide eyes, looking down at the chair they were sitting in.
Before she could say anything, Peter spoke up. "Morglie, I have it on the very best authority, that your Dad definitely wants us to sit in his chair and read stories while he is in the hospital. He definitely thinks you are NOT a plate-puss (Peter had to fight back a grin when he said it, despite his own sadness.), and that you are always welcome to sit in the OFFICIAL Dad Chair Recliner. Forever and ever and ever. Always. Permanently. It was a National Decree," Peter smiled back at the little girl, watching in delight as her own lips quirked up in a watery grin of their own.
"So, so, Daddy won't be mad...when he...gets home? Because we were in his special chair?" Morgan asked, eyes bright and questioning.
Shaking his head, Peter gave her a soft smile. "No, he won't be mad, Morglie. You know he loves you more than the sun and the moon and the stars, right? He loves you to the moon and back again? You are so, so very lucky to have the very best Daddy in the universe, you know that, right? And even...even if..." Peter had to stop there, if only for a moment, to catch his breath and swallow hard.
Morgan just continued to look at him, eyes steadfast, trust complete, taking in his wisdom in quiet adoration that absolutely terrified Peter. How on earth could anyone live up to that trust?
With a deep breath, Peter went on. "Even, even if something was to happen to him, and he had to, had to...go away...he would still love you with a greater force than anything else that exists," Peter trailed off, unsure how to express what he knew to be absolute fact.
Morgan knew. "He loves me 3000. I know. He knows I love him 3000, too," Morgan answered, still looking deep into Peter's face.
"I love you 3000, too, Peter. I'm glad you got to come home." Morgan finished, finally looking away from Peter's face, a small smile finally coming to her lips.
Peter, blinking back tears before realizing it was pointless and just letting a few fall, nodded his head, before he could answer.
"I-I love you 3000, too, Morglie."
Morgan nodded slightly, and tucked her head under Peter's chin, reaching out to take the book from his hands, because that was her job. To turn the pages.
Gently settling his chin against her soft, dark hair, Peter breathed in her scent, her baby smell of gentle shampoo, grass, salt-dough and crayons. She smelled like sunshine and days without worry; of a life opening up endlessly in all directions. She smelled like a future with hope. With a smile, Peter started reading.
"There once was a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning, he was really splendid..."
AN: Reviews are bread and butter for a writer, if you enjoyed this, or have criticsms, please take a moment to review. And if you have anything you'd like to see happen in this little alternate universe I'm playing in, let me know! Velveteen plot bunnies love to share the toast and jam, too.
- RB