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The snap happens, ripples of rainbow coloured energy emit from a far off area in the war ground. Going back to fighting one of Thanos’s soldiers just for it to turn into dust, looking around all of them are. A huge slug like creature, covering in plated metal, is surging towards the ground before making contact it turns into dust like all the others. Huh.
Trudging his way through the battle ground, remains of what used to be the compound, now flattened into the earth. Wafting throughout the air is the metallic scent of blood, ashes and fire.
Around the general area around him there’s small blazes littered about, flames never more then half a foot high.
Seeing a crowded group of avengers, Peter makes his way over to see Tony, sitting slouched against a huge piece of rubble. Blood drips down his face, where the glove connects to his forearm and hand are badly burnt, Thor had just taken it off to access the damage.
Making a beeline, kneeling down towards him.
’Mr Stark can you hear me? We won Mr Stark, we did it, we won.. Tony..’
Gently, he’s pulled back but pepper who then comes forwards in her navy and gold coloured iron man suit, pressing a clad hand against Tony’s chest.
’FRIDAY, Read vitals.’
’Life functions are critical.’
Peter doesn’t hear whatever comes next as he’s pulled into Bruce’s chest, having shrank from smart hulk, relenting to softly cry against him. Until he hears someone else crying, looking over he sees peppers forehead against Tony’s shoulder, his arc reactor is off. Hands hang loosely at his sides, eyes focused upwards, pieces clicking together Peter starts screaming.
Shooting up in his bed he screams, not registering it was a dream yet with hot, large tears rolling down his face.
Blankly staring at the door on the other side of his room he swings his feet off the bed tiredly, slipping on fluffy slippers and a pullover hoodie.
Chest aching needing to see Tony, to check he’s still okay, as if somehow the dream reality and his own could have switched places. Down the marble floor of the hallway, this now compound was built closer to the city, overlooking it. Closer for the sake of those avenger who’ve been delegated to food shopping that week, also so they feel less isolated, it’s more or less like the old one. Outside being dark grey and black instead of the previous scheme, inside housing the majority of all of them, after the way everyone has clung to each other not wanting to leave someone behind or get left behind.
It’s a chilly night, Peter rubs his arms through the hoodie sleeves while he sleepily walks through the compound, making his way to the entrance to Tony’s lab which is just a set of stairs behind the living room area. Down the steps, quickly into his eye-line due to the glass panel acting as the wall, Peter sees Tony sprawled across a sofa in pijamas looking restless. Looking over to a digital clock it reads ‘03:08’.
Pushing the door open a swish kind of noise leaves it, smoothing shutting behind him itself without slamming, Tony looks up at his visitor.
After what Steven called ‘The Endgame’ Tony was badly hurt, not unlike in his dream only they managed to save him not taking away the everlasting injuries he’s sustained. Scarring on more of a third of his face, rough wavy pattern, combined with burn scars along his hand up to the end of his forearm is where it’s worst, it rippled across his body so the burns travel over his shoulder to a little onto his chest. Along his side they make their home there too, hip, halfway down his thigh.
Overcome with relief, Peter rushes forwards, lying on the sofa next to his dad, crying softly. With his voice low, softer, his cheek is cupped.
’Hey bambino, you look terrified, what happened huh?’
’…I had a really bad nightmare about you.. getting hurt again.. and I wanted to check if you were still-‘
’Oh god that.. it’s late, why don’t you come here. I got a duvet in the back, you can fall asleep here, then if you have another nightmare you can see I’m okay off the bat. Pretty solid plan huh, you wanna do that?’
He ruffles Peter’s hair coaxing a smile out of him, he nods settling down on the sofa still shaking as he nestles down, Tony gets up making his way towards a cupboard off the to side, pulling out a duvet with a black sheet. Coming back over to Peter, wrapping it around his shoulders, pulling it around himself the boy starts crying.
So sitting down next to him, he waits for his kid to talk, instead of that he just buries himself in Tony’s side so he decides to prompt him.
’In this dream, what happened?’
’It was after Thanos-‘
Oh, he can’t lie and say he first still have nightmares himself about that place, about the building collapsing. Being crushed under all that rubble it was a miracle nobody died.
‘..and it was when you had the glove, only that Thor and everyone else didn’t rush you to the hospital, you were worse then you were and…’
He puts his around around Peter’s shoulders making his ramble drift off, feeling the comforting wake touch even though the thick duvet. Tears still freely flowing, Tony brings his other hand up to chip Peter’s cheek rubbing a tear away from under his eye with his thumb. The hand that he used to fix everything, cover in bumpy scar tissue, no nails on this hand, it took him months to learn how to use it again. His fingers move slower, still steady as ever, looking up meeting his dad’s eyes. Drifting to the left side of Tony’s face, watching as the same bumpy tissue shifts as he frowns.
’You don’t need to go into any more detail I.. get the picture, I hope you don’t feel.. I wish you..’
Cutting his sentences off with sighs, Tony firmly says.
’It wasn’t your fault, for not getting the glove there sooner, you couldn’t have done anything. You were only 16, up one hell of a fight, better than me. All I did was land myself into the hospital.’
Laughing tiredly afterwards, Peter’s face falling from the small smile into a frown, he goes to argue back but Tony pulls the hand that was hold Peter’s face to cover his mouth, coughing into it. It’s hoarse, dry, painful sounding.
’Are you okay? What’s wrong? I’ll get-‘
’Bambino it’s just a cough, if I was sick I’ll tell you.’
’No you wouldn’t!’
’Okay, probably wouldn’t but-‘
Pulling a hand out the duvet to reveal a phone in it, Peter calls someone, the profile picture is a blurry man in a lab coat with the name ‘Green dad’. Through the speaker phone, the voice of Bruce Banner comes out.
’Peter? It’s.. god it’s- it’s almost half three in the morning, what do you need?’
’Dad is sick, I want you to-‘
Tony takes the phone, pulling the blanket over Peter’s head muffling whatever he was about to say next, laughing awkwardly he starts talking to Bruce.
’Kids.. anxious things aren’t they, well you don’t have to worry Bruce, just go back to sleep. Peter won’t bother you again.’
’Tony are you sure? He sounded pretty worried.
Pausing, neither of them saying anything, Peter pulls off the blanket and exclaims.
’He coughed!’
Bruce, voice low, serious, responds.
’I’ll be there in five.’
Then the call disconnects. After the whole.. war I suppose, everyone is protective over Tony, surely being in a coma for four and twelve days had nothing to do with it. Bruce insists on weekly check ups, Steve, Bucky and Sam patrol the area before going to bed. Among other things. It’s two minutes until Bruce gets there holding an ear thermometer with a stethoscope around his neck seeing the state of both Avengers, Tony looking tired, grumpy. Mostly exasperated, while Peter has red rimmed eyes, snuggled into the duvet.
‘Okay, Tony can I uh..’
Bruce gestures to the stethoscope, Tony leans forwards letting the medic pull his shirt up, revealing the burn scars across his left side alone with the thick tissue across his chest where the arc rector lived. Two little silvery lines under his pectorals, the ones scars he ever wanted to wear, oh well. Cold metal of the head of the instrument, makes him jolt slightly, it lays over his chest checking his head. After a few moments, with his other hand keeping his shirt up Bruce nods letting it fall down. The gently making him sit forwards to put it up the back of his shirt, checking his lungs.
’Few slow deep breaths.. good.. okay.’
Finally he puts the thermometer into his ear, it beeps after a few seconds, pulling it out to check the little screen on the side. Relived he puts it down on the table, sitting on Peter’s other side.
’So what’s wrong with Peter? He looks traumatised, I- I mean more than any of usually do.’
’He had a nightmare that I didn’t just go to the hospital after the war, shook him up bad, why he called you..’
Peter silently hides int the duvet, cocooning himself in the soft, clean, cool sheet. Pursing his lips, the unofficial team healer looks at the exhausted, emotionally drained two people he has to take care of right now. Not the the minds, better him then them.
’Okay you two should go to your rooms-‘
Peter interjects with a panicked noise.
’But Tony said I could sleep here- in case I have a bad dream again. I..’
’Okay, just try to relax, I’ll turn off the lights-‘
Rolling his eyes, Tony talks into the air.
’F.R.I.D.A.Y dim lights eighty percent please.’
Oh. Good. Bruce rubs the back of his neck, getting up.
’I should go.’
’You can stay if you want, you don’t have to though..’
Rolling Tony’s words over in his head for a moment, he relents, if anything else happens then he’ll be here to help. Peter snuggled into the large duvet, is cuddling a throw pillow underneath, sleepily growling his fangs showing.
The older men can’t help but laugh, Peter trying to be threatening instead coming off as scary as a kitten.
‘You wanna share the duvet kid or no?’
Deciding slowly, Bruce just gets up to grab an extra. When he’s back Peter is snuggled into Tony, hugging the hell out of the pillow while his dad is tucking the blanket around both of them, Bruce uses one of the two to lay on pulling the second over himself.
Lights almost fully off, the pinpricks of light bouncing off various metals in the lab, scattered across tables or empty metal tables themselves. Squinting the little orange dots look like little stars, one slow moment he watches father and son laying together, if he didn’t know the truth he’d say they’re related, Peter has Tony’s dimples and that same frown as his sleeps, folds his arms like him too.
Bruce buries himself in his covers, switching on his phone to play a video of a friend crackling combined with a stream, putting the sleep timer on for thirty minutes. Ten in, Tony is snoring along with Peter’s whistling his nose makes as he sleeps, twenty in and Bruce is knocked out too. Safely tucked under warm sheets.