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Peter swings back to the compound, still a little worse for wear, but he did it. He saved all ten people from that lunatic, and he didn’t get kidnapped, he didn’t get killed, he’s barely got a scratch on him. Well, he’s got a couple scratches. Some burns. A bad migraine. But he’s alive! And he’s nearly back to the compound.
And Tony’s called him six times.
Well. A total of twelve times. Six before, and—six after.
Peter shoots another web, wincing when he pulls up his leg, and he knows he should have answered. Logically, he should have. But Tony would have only told him not to go, and Peter had already decided he had to. That lunatic asshole kidnapper, he called Spider-Man out specifically, on the morning news. He sent him the address from a private server, nobody else, and Peter knew he had to handle it by himself instead of getting anyone involved, especially the police. That guy was gonna kill those people, if Peter didn’t come. Sure, he had traps, but they all do. Sure, it came close a couple times, but the asshole was on his own, and Peter took him down and saved everybody. His whole body hurts, yeah. His wrist is probably broken. Definitely broken. But they can deal with it at the compound, like they usually do.
Peter blows out a breath, the wind whipping past him as he swings. It was a hard one. It felt like it was...meant to be a hard one. He knows he might have been reckless. But the people are safe, and he’s alive. Best case scenario.
He tries not to think about it. How close he gets sometimes, to really messing himself up.
Tony calls again, and this time, Peter answers.
“Tony—”
“Jesus. Jesus, he answered—Pete, where are you?”
His voice sounds strange, and raspy, and Peter narrows his eyes, shooting another web and wincing a bit. “Uh, maybe twenty minutes out? Tony—”
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Peter says. “Nothing too serious—”
“I’ll meet you on the roof as soon as you get here,” Tony says. He sounds curt, and angry, and it makes Peter feel cold.
“Okay, okay,” Peter says, his wrist cracking terribly. “I’ll try and make it fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Tony says, and the call disconnects.
Peter swallows hard, running along the wall of an apartment building. “He doesn’t sound good, does he, Karen?”
“You ignored all of his calls while you flew headfirst into a villain’s lair,” Karen says. “I’m sure he’s very worried about you, Peter.”
Peter grits his teeth and dives into another swing.
It’s been eight months, since he’s been back. Eight months, since he found out two years had passed while half the world had been gone. Eight months, since Tony and the others nearly died getting everybody back. But now Peter is closer to both Tony and Pepper, especially considering he and May lived at the compound while they were searching for a new apartment, and the fact that Peter was there when Pepper found out she was pregnant. But the new closeness has made things more difficult for Peter’s Spider-Man outings when it comes to Tony, especially the bigger ones with high stakes, the bigger ones that make headlines the next day that read SPIDER-MAN NARROWLY ESCAPES FIERY DEATH IN WAREHOUSE BLAZE. Tony isn’t a big fan of headlines like that. He isn’t a big fan of Peter so much as stubbing his toe.
So sometimes Peter...does things without telling him. So he doesn’t stress him out! But he found out about this one, probably from watching the news, and apparently, was already stressed out before it even started. Peter’s sure May is with him. He’s sure they’ve already formed their angry brick wall.
“Maybe in hindsight...I should have answered his calls,” Peter says, catching a whiff of the pizza place on the corner as he swings by. “Just to. Maybe. Put his mind a little more at ease. Yeah?”
“Maybe,” Karen says. “But we learn from our mistakes.”
Peter sighs so hard it hurts his chest.
~
It’s like Tony knows the exact moment Peter touches down on compound property, because he’s bounding out onto the roof before Peter can even reach the door. He looks like Peter feels, dark rings under his eyes, his limp more pronounced than normal. Peter tries to prepare himself for yelling.
He can’t prepare himself for the onslaught of silence as soon as he pulls his mask off. Tony looks at him like he’s never seen him before, with varying degrees of anger and relief flashing across his face. He cracks his jaw, grinding his teeth, and he looks Peter up and down.
“Listen,” Peter says, holding up his palms in a peace offering. “I realize now that—that not answering was the wrong decision—”
“Uh, ya think?” Tony snaps. He sways a little bit, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Peter.”
“—but I knew you would just discourage me and tell me to let the cops handle it!” Peter yells, almost pleads.
“Of course I was gonna do that—”
Peter keeps talking over him. “And I could tell this dude was gonna be too much for them, and he said he was gonna kill the hostages if the cops showed up, so I couldn’t risk it, Tony, he only gave the address to me and I knew what I had to do, I just couldn’t risk losing anyone—”
“Yeah, you could just risk yourself, Pete,” Tony says, low and dangerous, stepping a little closer to him. He’s shaking, and Peter narrows his eyes. “I was calling you, multiple fucking times, while you ignored me, because this asshole contacted me too.”
That feels like a weird punch to the gut. “What?” Peter asks.
Tony nods. “Yeah. You would know that, had you answered. He threatened you, to me. He told me if you came there, like you did, that he was gonna take you. He was gonna—he was gonna hurt you. I don’t—I don’t even wanna repeat what he told me he was gonna do to you.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes, and he sways again.
“Tony—” Peter starts, his brows furrowed.
“I’ll never stop fucking hearing it—fucking ever, Peter, the shit he said. I know they all say things, but this guy—there was something. Something different. And we traced the calls, the messages—yeah, he sent these goddamn deep fake videos of what he was gonna do, yeah, yeah, that didn’t help at all—Rhodey and I went flying off like morons to a fake location because I was so out of my damn mind, didn’t realize he was tricking us with the tracked coordinates—and—and I called and I called and you just—you didn’t answer—”
Tony is clearly really upset, the kind of upset that Peter’s only seen the likes of a couple of times, and it’s too close after everything happening to really talk about it. He can definitely see that now. “I’m sorry,” Peter says. “I’m sorry, I should have answered—”
“Yeah, you should have answered!” Tony yells. His bottom lip is trembling and he shakes his head, his eyes wild. He runs his hand over his forehead.
“Okay, okay, I’ll know for next time,” Peter says. He doesn’t know what’s gonna make this better. Probably nothing.
“There better not be a next time,” Tony says, dropping his hand from his face. “God, like this? Pete, no one knew where he was but you, and you—you kept it that way so nobody knew what the hell was happening, and you—you weren’t answering, kid, and that asshole sent me all that shit plucked directly from my nightmares, and I was trying to be strong for May because she was worried, too, and you—and you, I—I thought I wasn’t gonna ever—I thought—Jesus, Peter, you don’t think, you don’t—”
Tony bends over, clutching at his arm and breathing hard through his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Peter asks, falling into a quick panic, rushing closer and latching onto him. “Tony?”
“Shit,” Tony breathes, wincing, rubbing at the center of his chest. “Arm’s numb—uh, this—it’s not a drill, it’s not a drill—”
“What?” Peter asks, horror-stricken. “What, what?”
“Put—put your mask on, call for help,” Tony gasps, and his knees are giving out, and Peter holds onto him, keeps him upright. “Helen’s—she’s here, I need—I need—” He winces again, groans, and goes limp.
“Oh my God,” Peter stammers, holding him tight so he doesn’t fall. “Oh my God, oh my God.” It’s a heart attack. It has to be, it has to be, and Peter shakes, quickly putting his mask back on. He picks Tony up careful as he can, holds him over his shoulder and rushes for the door.
“Karen,” Peter says, tears stinging in his eyes. “Call Helen. Call Helen Cho.”
“Calling,” Karen says.
Peter holds Tony tight, tears clouding his vision, and he kicks the door open and starts rushing down the stairs.
The phone only rings once before Helen picks up. “Peter?” she asks. “Are you here, did you make—”
“Meet me in the med bay,” Peter says, feeling Tony stir a little bit. “Tony’s having a heart attack.”
~
Peter gets there in less than a minute, where Rhodey and Happy converge on him. They help him lie Tony down, and he keeps going in and out of consciousness, saying things Peter can’t exactly latch onto, through the fog of his own fear. He backs up so Helen and her nurses can work, pulling his mask off and twisting it in his hands. Pepper rushes in through the back door, holding onto the swell of her stomach, and Peter can hear Tony muttering something to her. He thinks he hears his own name, but it can’t be. Tony wouldn’t be asking about him right now.
Peter feels like everything is draped in red, his eyesight failing him, time slowing down to a near standstill. He can only hear Tony’s last words to him before this happened, full of anger and emotion—Jesus, Peter, you don’t think—
Peter made a mistake, ignoring his calls. He didn’t have the whole story, but he rushed into danger anyhow. He didn’t think. He didn’t think.
He feels like he’s underwater. Like he’s drowning. He did this. He did this. This is his fault. Tony has said it so many times, since they’ve known each other. You’re gonna give me a heart attack, kid. And now fucking look.
“Peter, hey,” May’s voice says, her hand on his arm, as if this isn’t the first time she’s saying his name.
He looks down at her, and feels dizzy, panic ready to rip him wide open. “I gotta go.”
“What?” she asks, concern in her eyes.
“I gotta go,” he says, quickly pulling out of her grasp and moving out of the room.
~
Sometimes, when Tony wakes up, he’s a clean slate. Birds chirping. Sun shining. No matter what dumb shit happened the night before, he usually forgets in the morning, if only for a moment. But when he wakes up in that med bay bed, he knows. He remembers.
“Tony?” Pepper’s voice asks. “Honey?”
“How bad was it?” he asks, before he even opens his eyes.
“Not your finest hour,” Pepper says.
“Are any of them?” Tony asks, drawing in a big breath. “How long was I out?”
“Not that long,” Rhodey says. “But you know how antsy I get if I don’t hear the dulcet tones of your voice every couple minutes.”
Tony smiles.
“How are you feeling?” Happy’s voice asks.
“Dandy,” Tony says. He feels like he’s been flattened. Like he did when he first woke up in that cave. His chest aches. “What’s the prognosis? Helen’s opinion only.”
“Looks like stress cardiomyopathy,” Helen says. “So not, technically, a heart attack, though I know it felt like one. No blocked arteries, but we’re still going to do more tests. We should have seen it coming. You’ve been sort of neglecting yourself, haven’t you, Tony?”
“Got a little worked up,” Tony says, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He isn’t ready to be present, quite yet. “Been a little busy—”
“Your blood pressure was way too low,” Pepper says. “Jesus, babe.”
He sighs. “What’s recovery look like?” he asks. “Don’t wanna know all the rest of it. Recovery, up and at ‘em.” He reluctantly opens his eyes, to the room that’s too white and bright to be part of whatever dream he was having. Pepper’s on his right, her hands resting on the bed, and Rhodey and Happy are on the other side, both with too much concern in their expressions. They’re not trying to hide it, even though they know he hates it when people look at him like that.
“Bed rest for about three days,” Helen says. “Light duty for a week after. Lighter duty than what you’d consider light duty.”
“Pretend you’re pregnant too,” Rhodey says, jutting his chin out.
Tony starts to fake a laugh when he realizes who isn’t here, and a chill runs through him. “Wait a second,” he says, brows furrowing. “Where’s the kid? Where’s Peter?”
All of their faces fall, and they look around like they hadn’t noticed.
Tony feels another familiar pain in his chest. “He isn’t here?”
“He brought you here,” Happy says, glancing up at Pepper. “And he was—he was in here, in the beginning, but I—”
Tony looks at Rhodey with wide eyes, and Rhodey stares back, shakes his head. “Lemme message May,” he says.
Tony reaches up, pressing his fingers into his eyes, and he can hear his own heart speed up on the monitor.
“Okay, okay. Babe?” Pepper says, a comforting hand on his arm. “Calm down. We’ll find him, it’s fine, he’s gotta be around here somewhere.”
After what they just went through, Tony doesn’t know what the fuck to think. The images that asshole sent him of Spider-Man, fake or not, are still in his head. They were gruesome, something pulled straight from a horror movie, and all that radio silence—Tony can still feel it. The waiting. It felt like someone was chiseling away at him, shoving him back into those moments when Peter was gone, dead, dust. Ash on Tony’s fingers. An obsessive thought in his head. An empty grave. And all this shit, today—it was too real. He feels sick, just thinking about it. He doesn’t know what the fuck happened, heart attack, no heart attack, stress cardiomyopathy—he yelled at Peter until he collapsed like a dying star. And now the kid is gone again.
He doesn’t wanna be mad at his pregnant wife or his two best friends for not realizing Peter isn’t here. They’re distracted. So Tony just turns his anger on himself again, for being too passed out and fucked up to realize it. Somewhere in the back of his mind floats a phrase—stress cardiomyopathy is broken heart syndrome, Mr. Stark, that’s what Padme died of— and he thinks he might fall into it again. That dark horror fueled by too much love for someone flying too close to the sun. Someone that death can get its hands on easier than others.
“Hello?” May’s voice says, through Rhodey’s speaker phone.
“May,” Rhodey says, holding the phone out towards Tony. “Uh, you’ve got Peter with you, right?”
“No,” May says, and Tony’s heart sinks again. “I didn’t wanna bother any of you, I’ve got Sam with me looking—Peter was really upset, he ran out of there blaming himself for what happened with Tony and he just disappeared—we can’t track the suit, he turned it off—”
“I’ve got a couple back doors on that we can try,” Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to keep his breathing level.
“Tony?” she asks, and she almost sounds close to tears.
“Sorry for the drama,” he says. “I know we’ve had enough of it today, and it’s absolutely my fault he’s gone right now—”
“No more blaming, please, between the two of you I don’t know how any of us get through a single day. Sam and I will find him, just relax, you need to relax. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Tony feels like a broken, wretched thing, and he can barely remember this morning, can barely remember when things felt normal, or as close as they all can get. Peter was talking about getting pizza for dinner. He was talking about the tarot deck he found in the park. He was talking about buying a Spider-Man onesie for the baby and debating between newborn or three month sizes.
“He’s not at home?” Happy asks.
“Not at home, not at the tower, not at Ned’s, not at MJ’s. Not at any of the restaurants he likes, none of the bodegas—I even looked at some of those Spider-Man fan sites, no one’s seen him, he’s not anywhere he usually hangs out. Phone tracking is off too.”
Tony tries to think of where the kid would go. Peter is a creature of comfort, and after something like this, Tony figures he’d want to find something familiar. Something they’ve shared, together, somewhere that felt like...healing. And then it hits him.
“Blue whale,” he says, his hand sliding away from his face. He looks at Pepper, sees her watching the heart monitor. “Uh—American Museum of Natural History.”
When he first came back, Peter was haunted. Haunted by what happened, haunted by where he was, what he could and couldn’t remember. Tony’s guilt was like a living thing feeding off of him, and all he wanted to do was help Peter, all he wanted to do was ease his way back into the world. Having him back was almost as much of a shock as losing him in the first place—but all their hard work, near death bullshit actually amounted to something, the something they wanted. And Tony needed to try and find normal for the kid again. He made it a priority.
That pursuit brought them to the American Museum of Natural History almost every weekend. Peter never got sick of it. The planetarium, the mammoth, the T-Rex. But the blue whale was his favorite. They could stay in that room for hours. And Peter’s face lit up like it did before the world ended, before he turned to dust in Tony’s arms. They went with May, they went with Pepper, Tony even brought MJ and Ned along one day, and bought the whole gang as many dumbass souvenirs as they wanted, despite the fact that they didn’t need any of it.
But it was always the whale room, for Peter.
“God, Tony—that feels right,” May says. “I think you hit it.”
“If he’s there—” Tony starts.
“I’ll bring him back,” May says. “I figured the two of us would stay for a couple days, if we could.”
“You know you’re always welcome, May,” Pepper says.
Tony blows out a breath, and prepares for more waiting. And more guilt.
~
Peter is leaning on the railing when he sees her. She’s on the second level, same as him, and his first instinct is to run. But it’s like she knows, and she gives him this look, and something roots him to the ground, like he’s ten again and she’s hollering his name.
He’s instantly aware that he’s in an oversized hoodie and jeans that probably belong to Rhodey, or maybe Sam. Or any of the random Avengers that flit in and out of the compound. She approaches him fast, weaving around groups of people that are trying to get as much out of the museum before it closes. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. An hour or two. It seems longer. The day itself feels like five years straight.
“What did you go running off for?” May asks, reaching his side. “Honey, I know you and I know your brain, what happened is not—”
“It’s definitely my fault,” Peter hisses, tears springing to his eyes again. “Like, exactly my fault, me, mine, everything, all of it—like, I don’t—I did that. He had a heart attack because of me, because of what I did—”
“It wasn’t even a heart attack,” May says. Then she looks away from him, chewing on her lower lip. “It was stress.”
“Stress I caused, and it really looked like a heart attack and it seemed like one,” Peter says, his own heart rattling in his chest. “I should have answered the phone, and I didn’t—”
“And that was a mistake,” May says, looking at him intently. “I understand you want to be in charge of your own life, baby, but everyone needs people on their team. Tony wants to keep you safe. What would you think, if the situations were reversed? If you called him a hundred times when he was rocketing towards danger and he didn’t answer you?”
“I’d be upset,” Peter says, wiping at his eyes. “But—”
“He had information you didn’t know,” May says. “And sure, you got through it. Because you are capable, and sometimes he and I might get—a little too mama bear with you. But this one—you could have done well with backup. We can all use backup sometimes.”
Peter nods, blowing out a breath. He shuffles forward and leans his forehead on her shoulder. “I get it,” he whispers. “I know. But you can’t...you can’t say he’s not hurt right now because of me. Especially after all that, everything you just said. I gave him a stress-induced heart attack.”
She rubs his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Honey, he loves you and he worries. After what happened, it’s just—stubbing your toe could give that man a heart attack. If I had a heart condition I’d be in a bed right beside him.”
“Not making me feel better,” Peter groans.
“What happened cannot be blamed on anyone,” she says. “It is what it is, alright? He’s a superhero, we all know what happened to him and how all this started—anything could have led to this. And he’s fine. He’s gonna be fine. Like I said, it wasn’t exactly a heart attack, it’s gonna be a quick recovery, he’s fine. And he wants you back there.”
Peter shakes his head. His guilt is eating him alive. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Oh, yes he does,” May says, rubbing his back. “He’s the one that figured out you’d be here. As soon as he woke up he was asking where you were. The guilt complex, between the two of you—you could pave highways with it, baby. Honestly.”
Peter sighs. “But Pepper, she’s—”
“Please,” May says, pulling away and holding him by the shoulders. “Peter. Come on. We’re family. You’re family. You made a mistake and you know that now, and you’re safe and that’s all that matters. Tony wants to see you—are you gonna stay away when he wants to see you? While he’s laid up?”
Peter pouts at her. “Now you’re playing to the guilt.”
“Yup. I know you.”
Peter leans back in, hugging her hard. “I’m sorry I scared you. Everyone. I didn’t...I just didn’t realize. I didn’t think. I just...I needed to save those people and I didn’t want anybody else to get hurt. Tony’s been through so much and I just—I didn’t—”
You didn’t think. You didn’t think.
He groans, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
“I know there’s no way to make you feel better,” May says, softly. “But you don’t need to run away when things like this happen. It just adds time, honey, because you have to face it eventually. Tony’s not gonna banish you from his life no matter what you do. You have to own what happened and face it head on to get past it. You two can avoid this kind of thing if you actually talked instead of trying to stop each other from doing your superhero gig all the time. It’s counterproductive, and look where we are. You just need to talk.”
Peter nods, pulling back and clearing his throat.
“Let’s go, hun,” she says, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Sam’s been waiting for us in the car.”
Peter narrows his eyes. “I don’t care if it’s immature, if he makes fun of me, I’m just swinging back over there by myself.”
“He won’t,” May says, kissing his cheek again. “I already warned him.”
~
May’s text eases Tony’s mind, but only a little bit. The more time he has to think about it, the worse he feels. And he feels like shit.
Pepper sits on the side of the bed, and he keeps staring at her stomach, wondering if he’ll be as much of an overbearing asshole to this child when it grows up as he is to Peter now. For a while there, he thought he’d be good at this.
She leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Stop,” she says. “Just stop. Can you let yourself rest for like, five minutes?”
“Rest?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Shit, Pep, I don’t even know what the hell that means.”
“Relax. Take a break. It’s been eight months since—everything, and you’re still giving yourself and everybody else hell every day. I think you took about a day off and then you just—you’ve been going ever since.”
“It’s not the kid’s fault,” Tony says, blowing out a breath. “It’s mine, I—I just completely lost my fucking mind thinking that—thinking—”
“I know,” she says. “I know. You two just need to talk.”
“As soon as he sees me laying here like this it’s gonna be Parker guilt all over the place,” Tony says. “And then I’ll feel guilty for him feeling guilty, it’ll be...a whole thing.”
Pepper just shakes her head at him, smiling a little bit. Then the door opens, and Peter steps inside.
Tony blows out a breath.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Pepper says, kissing the top of Tony’s head. She gets up, brushing Peter’s cheek as she walks by him, and closes the door behind her.
Tony gets a little teary just looking at him. This whole day looms like a specter over the two of them, and Tony remembers the images that insane kidnapper asshole sent him and gets angry again. But that anger immediately breaks when he sees Peter glance down at the ground, shaking his head.
“Pete,” Tony says. “This—this is all me, okay?”
“No,” Peter says. “I know what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna trade back and forth over and over again. My fault, no my fault, no my fault.”
Tony raises his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Well—”
“It was both of us,” Peter says, softly.
That wasn’t what Tony expected to hear.
“I should have answered,” Peter says. “I shouldn’t have ignored you, and I know I wouldn’t want you to ignore me so I shouldn’t do it to you. It was—the whole thing was dangerous and I should have—approached it with more caution. Should have—considered the danger to myself, too. I know I forget that sometimes.”
The amount of fondness Tony feels is nearly overwhelming, and more tears spring to his eyes that he quickly wipes away.
“I, uh, shouldn’t have given you a reason to think you can’t pick up for me,” Tony says, voice gruff with emotion. “And I should have tried harder to—keep myself in check. Chill the fuck out. You’d been through enough, today and—in general.”
Peter nods, his face crumpling. It’s like a dagger in Tony’s chest, and he shakes his head. “Pete—”
“I just—I’m sorry that—this happened, this whole—this whole thing—I don’t—I don’t wanna—stress—stress you out, especially after everything, and—and what you did, for everyone, for—for me and May—but now you—you had a heart attack because of me—or not a heart attack—May—May was being really weirdly vague with details—” His crying gets heavier and more intense, disrupting his speech altogether. He sucks in a wavering breath. “I’m sorry, I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t wanna—be like this, it’s embarrassing—”
“C’mere, kid,” Tony says, doing what he should have done on the roof earlier instead of all the hysterical yelling. He wipes at his eyes. “C’mere, don’t cry.”
Peter only cries more, looking dejected as fuck as he shuffles over. He perches on the side of the bed and nearly collapses as Tony pulls him in, tucking his face into Tony’s shoulder. He dissolves into full-out sobs, and Tony holds onto him, his own tears tracking down his face.
“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony says, rocking them back and forth a little bit. “Jesus, I just—that sick prick really made me face the idea that I could lose you again and my brain stopped working. Completely. Shut down, blue screen, all of it. I just don’t—I don’t understand how May functions on the daily knowing something might happen to you. It’s hard for me to say this shit but losing you once really—put everything in perspective and you’re—you’re my kid, you know that.” He brushes his fingers through Peter’s hair, closing his eyes. “It was like some sort of cosmic gift that I was ever able to mentor you, let alone—act like a father to you. I was so fucking lucky May allowed me in your life despite all my mistakes and missteps and I just—Pete, I love you, kid, too damn much to think about the world without you in it. That phone, just—ringing and ringing and ringing—it just reminded me of when I used to call your cell, after—after that day, and—I’d call, so I could pretend, for just a moment that—you might pick up—”
“God, I’m sorry,” Peter cries, holding him tighter. “I love you too. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Tony winces, shaking his head. “Not telling you to make you feel bad, bud, I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing Peter’s back, trying to soothe him. “I just—lost my shit. I need to work on that. Centering myself, bringing it—back around, I don’t know, whatever, I just need to work on it. I trust you, I do, I just don’t trust anything and anyone else out there, with—with you, because—I’ve got a few essentials in my life and you’re—you’re one of them. You’re one of them.” His voice breaks, and these kinds of emotional conversations are like pure agony, every single time. He’s lucky he’s on bed rest, because he’ll need it more after this conversation than the damn heart attack. Or whatever it was.
“You too,” Peter says, muffled against Tony’s shirt. “You too, you too, essential, no—no heart attacks. Over—over anything, not even me.”
Tony hates hearing him like this. “I wanted to tell you,” he says, cupping the back of Peter’s head again. “This was—this was stress cardiomyopathy. Aka the broken heart syndrome.”
“Oh my God—” Peter wails, and Tony can feel that super strength when Peter latches onto his shoulder.
“No, no, it’s funny,” Tony says, forcing a smile. “I’m Queen Padme, kid. I’m the thing all the critics complained about. Well, one of them. Maybe this year I can, like, dress up as Jar Jar for Halloween or something.”
Peter’s crying goes a little quiet, and he pulls back, still holding onto Tony’s shoulders. His eyes are red and puffy. “It’s Senator Amidala, Tony,” he says, matter of fact. “Get your titles straight, c’mon. We watched that one together.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “A serious mistake.” He reaches up, wipes some of Peter’s tears away.
“It is,” Peter says, trying to stifle a hiccup. His brows furrow. “Is that really what they said? That happened?”
“Yeah,” Tony says. “But it’s good, because no blocked arteries or anything like that. It was just—shock. And my own decisions, to—yell at you, like a maniac.”
Peter shakes his head, and he leans in, hugging him again. Tony remembers when this scared him. When he tried to put as much distance between him and the kid as possible, because he couldn’t get attached. Then he remembers the silence. The emptiness. Peter’s voice on videos, on his answering machine, frozen in time.
Tony hugs him as much as he can now.
“We’re a team, okay?” Tony asks. “Sometimes you’re gonna be right, sometimes I will, sometimes both of us are gonna be wrong and we’ll have to figure that shit out. I just want you safe, bottom line. I know you can defend yourself, I just need—you to hear me out, sometimes. Even if you don’t take my advice. My well thought out, researched, genius-level advice.”
Peter snorts, shaking his head. “You need to try and protect yourself too,” he says. “You’re gonna have a real kid soon.”
Tony narrows his eyes, his hand resting at the base of Peter’s neck. “Real kid? What are you, a cyborg? And you’re just now telling me?”
“You know what I mean,” Peter says, sniffling again. “Like—by blood.”
Tony’s breath hitches, and he makes Peter pull back. He shakes his head at him. “You know full well that Rhodey, Happy and I didn’t come from the same place, but those two are still my brothers. Whether they wanna be or not, at this point it’s just—locked in, they’re stuck with me.”
Peter just stares at him, eyes watery.
“You’re always gonna be my kid, no matter what,” Tony says, hoping he sounds convincing. “The only thing that’s gonna change is that you will be officially handed the big brother title, which does come with diaper duty.”
Peter grins then, raising his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”
“Mhm, and let the baby fall asleep on you duty, and squish peaches and pears duty—”
“The store can do that for you,” Peter says. “They have them in little jars and everything.”
“We’re gonna be very hands on,” Tony says. “Like making wine with your feet, except it’s baby food.”
Peter snorts. “Okay, I’m game,” he says. “For all of it.”
“Good,” Tony says, wiping at his own eyes, the fondness nearly bowling him over again. “You wanna rewatch the Star Wars movies while I’m laid up? Clearly I need a refresher.”
“Is that even a question?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows. “I have them downloaded on my phone. I’m ready at all times. I even have the cartoons. Clone Wars and Rebels. And the Holiday special.”
Tony truly understands why the broken heart syndrome would apply to him at the prospect of this kid dying. He clears his throat. “Ask Hap to make the Wookie Cookies this time,” he says, sitting up a little bit straighter. “Rhodey can’t be trusted, as we’ve learned.”
Peter nods, and doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sitting there, smiling. Finally calm. Tony recalls that numbness he felt that made him think he was finally having a heart attack, after all the threatening and dramatics he’s pulled his whole life. But thinking about it, that numbness didn’t even slightly compare to how numb he was when Peter was dead.
But he’s back now. He’s okay. He’s right here.
“I’m really sorry, for real,” Peter says, finally. “For all of it.”
“Me too,” Tony says, nodding at him. “No more dramatics, from either one of us. Prohibited. Off limits. Just stoic professionalism from here on out.”
Peter stares, the smile growing on his face. Then he snorts, bursting into laughter.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Tony says. “Zero days since our last nonsense. No Christmas bonus this year.” Peter laughs harder, and Tony’s heart swells. He tugs Peter closer, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Love you so much, kid. Enough to cramp your style.”
“Love you too, Senator Amidala.”
Tony shakes his head, poking Peter in the side. Then both of them laugh, all of the weight of the day finally lifting. Tony thinks about that cave, all those years ago. He thinks about what he didn’t have then, what he had and didn’t appreciate, what he has now and values more than anything else. He made his family. He chose them, he gathered them close. He didn’t waste his life. He just finally started living it.