Work Text:
Blood.
There was blood on his hands.
Blood dripping from a cut on his hand.
And a knife.
There was blood on his skin and a knife on the counter.
It was happening again.
No.
The lab. Dr Marshall. Thaddeus Ross. Darkness and green ink and Morgan crying and pain pain pain.
NO.
This couldn't be happening.
Not again.
Please.
Tony walked into the kitchen and dropped a kiss on Morgan's hair before doing the same to his wife. His eyes were glued to his phone reading an email from the board, but he spared a glance to return the smiles from both women when they looked up.
Morgan had a drop of mustard on her chin. Pepper thought it was too cute to point it out to her and Tony heartily agreed.
It had been a good morning, spent soaking up the sun out on the lake on the boat. They'd decided to go inside to make sandwiches for lunch which had everyone gathered in the lake house kitchen.
"Hey Pete, pass me my water bottle will you?" Tony asked distractedly typing out a quick reply to his email. When several seconds passed with no response Tony looked up.
"Kid?"
Peter remained frozen where he was. He stood with his back to the room, half bent over what looked like a cutting board on the counter.
Frowning, Tony walked over, careful to make his steps noisy in case Peter had just gotten lost in his head.
Once he was near enough to lay a hand on Peter's shoulder his stomach dropped. It appeared Peter had sliced his finger while cutting up tomatoes. The knives they kept were sharp and the injury was bleeding heavily, running down his palm and wrist, soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. More concerning than that, though, was the wide-eyed, blank stare on the boy's face and the way his hands shook while his chest barely moved, hardly breathing.
"Pepper?" Tony sent a bright, hysteric smile to his wife. "How about you and Little Miss take your lunch to the back porch?"
Pepper's sharp eyes flicked between Tony and Peter just once before she pursed her lips and nodded.
"That sounds like a great idea. Morgan?"
"But my hot dog." The girl whined, mustard now smeared across her hands and cheeks.
"Don't worry sweetie, I've got it." Pepper swept the child up into one arm and grabbed her lunch with the other. Pepper's salad remained untouched on the counter.
"What about Daddy and Petey?"
"They'll be right behind us." Pepper assured her, hiking her up on her hip and already headed toward the door.
"That's right, just go with Mommy, okay?" Tony threw another hideously fake smile toward them, but Morgan didn't seem to notice. She only nodded and laid her head on her mothers shoulder and let Pepper's quick steps carry them away.
The moment they were out of earshot Tony's full attention was back on Peter.
"Hey Pete. How you doing there bud?"
There was no response but Tony's heart clenched at the sight of tears gathering in the corners of Peter's wide, terrified eyes.
"Not great, huh?" Tony stood as close as he dared to the boy. A startled Peter usually came up swinging, he'd gotten enough black eyes from waking the kid up from enough nightmares to know, but Tony was unwilling to pull away completely. Peter's lips trembled as he gasped the tiniest breaths, certainly not enough air entering his lungs and his face was red from the effort.
Tony dropped his eyes to Peter's bloodied hands.
"You got yourself a pretty bad cut there kid. Can I - can I touch you? So I can help?"
Peter was still unresponsive, but Tony couldn't just stand there and not do anything. Not when his kid was scared and hurt and bleeding.
Tony reached out, laying careful, gentle hands on Peter's wrists in hopes of maneuvering him toward the sink.
It was a mistake.
Peter jerked back with such force there was an audible crack where his hip slammed into the island countertop and broke off a piece of the marble. That was nothing compared to the noise. The strangled, terrified, wounded noise Peter made as he pulled away would haunt Tony's days and nights for the rest of his life.
"Okay, okay," Tony raised his hands, palms out, his face twisting in pain. He was so helpless. "That was my mistake kid. I'm sorry, everything is okay. Alright?"
At least Peter was looking at him now. Or maybe looking through him was more accurate.
The kid was still shaking, sweating and those awful gasping breaths.
"Kid. Pete." Tony's voice broke and he took a quick deep breath, forcing down his own panic and the pain in his heart threatening to tear him in two. "Peter. Peter Parker. You're name is Peter Parker. You are safe. You are loved. I love you Peter. Tony. And Morgan and Pepper. We all love you Peter. You're safe with us. You're at the Lake House, Peter. Peter Parker. Your name is Peter Parker."
Tony wasn't sure how long he talked, rambling stream of conscious facts in hopes of grounding Peter enough to bring him out of the flashback.
"T-Tony." A small voice emerged from Peter's trembling lips.
Tony gasped, taking an aborted step forward and bringing his hands to his mouth to keep from reaching for the kid.
"Yeah. That's right. You're right kid, its me. Its Tony."
Peter still looked too scared to move. His eyes unfocused and wild.
"Marshall."
Tony shook his head frantically. "No kid. She's gone. I promise you whatever Wanda did to her there's no coming back from. She's gone. Ross too. They're both gone. You're safe."
"Henry?"
Another aborted step and Tony huffed a breath to keep the rage he felt at the mere mention of that monster's name out of his voice.
"He'll bever see the light of day again kid, I swear to you. You're safe."
Peter's eyelids fluttered in an odd attempt to blink without closing his eyes, gaze focusing in on Tony's face.
"Safe?"
"Safe Peter. So so safe here. Safe with me." Tony's voice was desperate, he'd never been one to beg. But he'd fall to his knees if it meant Peter would believe him at that moment.
Peter gave the barest of nods and looked down at his shaking hands, a small pool of blood had collected on the floor where his hand was still dripping.
"I'm bleeding."
"Yeah, yeah you are kid." Tony nodded, a little hysterical laugh bubbling out of his lips. He just needed to touch his kid. Hold him. Help him. Keep him safe. Forever this time. "Sliced yourself good trying to cut some tomatoes for a sandwich. Gonna have to switch to you using those safety knives we got for Morgan."
Peter looked back up and Tony held his breath.
"Safe Tony? No...no experiments?"
Tony's chest was cracked open. He lost his battle with tears.
"Yes, you're safe, baby. I'm so..." a sharp inhale and he shook the apology away, pressing a fist to his lips. "You're safe, Peter."
Peter nodded. And nodded and nodded and suddenly Tony had his arms full of trembling teenager.
"Oh." He gasped. Peter's hands clenched in the back of his shirt and pressed his face into Tony's neck. Tony looked toward the ceiling to get his tears under control as he buried a hand in Peter's hair, wrapping the other tightly around his back. "Okay. Okay bud I've got you. You're alright."
He placed a quick kiss on the kid's hair and squeezed his eyes shut.
"You're alright." It was a promise Tony intended to keep.
"Better?" Tony asked, dropping into a crouch with the contents of a first aid kit spread out beside him.
After Peter calmed down he admitted to being a little cold. He often was after a flashback. Tony had brought him up to his and Pepper's room, helped him pull his uncoordinated limbs into one of Tony's MIT hoodies and set him on the toilet while Tony found the first aid kit.
Peter nodded, fidgeting. He clearly wanted to pull his hands into his sleeves but didn't want to get the hoodie all bloodied.
"Sorry about your shirt." He muttered.
Tony shrugged, pulling out the cleansing wipes and some gauze.
"Its not the first time a kid has bled on me. Won't be the last." His hands worked with practiced efficiency, cleaning the blood and checking the wound. "Morgan ran into the sliding glass door at full speed when she was three. Her nose bled for fifteen minutes. Ruined my favorite Led Zeppelin shirt."
Peter hummed. "Still sorry."
"Got nothing to be sorry about, kid." Tony said quietly. Peter's healing factor had already started to close the shallower ends of the wound. It would probably be fine by the next day. He exchanged the gauze for a band aid.
"Did - did I scare Morgan?" Peter's voice was quiet and raspy, but unmistakable in the silence of the room, broken only by the sound of Tony's measured, Box rhythm breathing.
Tony looked up. Peter stared back at him with red rimmed eyes and blotchy, tear-stained cheeks.
"No. Pepper took her outside to eat. She never even knew anything was wrong."
Peter dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded once.
"Good."
Tony smoothed the bandage down with his thumb, but instead of letting go he shifted to his knees, sat back on his heels and took both Peter's hands in his.
"Kid. Peter," he cleared his throat, frowning slightly from the effort of keeping emotions at bay. He rubbed his thumbs over Peter's knuckles. "You know you're safe here, right?"
Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. A part of Tony worried Peter would take the question the wrong way, think Tony was somehow blaming Peter for panicking. But Tony was a selfish man, and he loved this kid and he needed him to know he was safe with him.
Thankfully, somehow, Peter seemed to understand.
"Yeah, Tony. I know. I - I just...my head forget sometimes."
Peter squeezed Tony's fingers. Immediately Tony squeezed back.
"Okay." Tony nodded. "Okay good." He took a quick shaky breath. "And you know, you know I love you. I will never let anything happen to you."
Peter stayed quiet for so long Tony was sure he heard his heart breaking in the silence.
"Don't say that."
Tony closed his eyes, the weight of the world, of his failure, of his kids' pain suddenly slammed down on his shoulders and he bowed forward until he was resting his forehead on his and Peter's joined hands.
"Tony."
The man shook his head, too ashamed to look his kid in his face.
Peter squeezed his fingers. "Tony, please."
Tony mentally shook himself. This wasn't about him. His guilt or his trauma. This was about Peter. If Peter wanted to yell at him, blame him, Tony would let him. He'd promised to protect him and he'd failed. He deserved the kid's anger. The least he could do was look him in the eyes.
He owed him that much.
Tony lifted his head. Peter was crying again, silent, steady tears. He squeezed Tony's hands again.
"Its not what you think." Peter took a deep breath, "if you never let anything happen to us, nothing would ever happen to us. Not even the good things." He raised and lowered one shoulder. "And bad things are going to happen. Morgan will drop her ice cream on the ground. Spiderman will get hurt while patrolling. And I'll probably get food poisoning from sketchy street hot dogs." He smiled and Tony huffed a surprised little laugh.
"Things will happen Tony. Good things and bad things. Don't promise not to let them. Can you just...just promise to always be there when they do?"
Tony nodded, tears in his eyes and his throat.
"Yeah," he rasped. "I swear kid. I'll always be here for you."
Peter smiled again, watery and small.
"Thanks Dad."
Tony's face crumpled. God, he was really getting old. He cried so much these days.
Regardless, he opened his arms in invitation. A second later Peter had slid to his knees and into Tony's arms. The older man buried his face in Peter's hair and leaned them side to side in a fierce hug.
"How'd you get to be so smart, huh?" He teased when he could find his voice again.
Peter laughed and sniffed.
"Years of practice."
Tony leaned back.
"Is that a Ferris Bueller reference?"
"Who's Ferris Bueller?"
Tony squinted at him, because he knew for a fact they had spent an entire weekend on John Hughes movies and if the kid had slept through Ferris Bueller then he...Tony caught Peter's innocent doe eyes morphing into a pleased smirk.
Oh.
"You're a brat." Tony rolled his eyes.
"You love me." Peter smiled, so cheeky and bright Tony could almost pretend the world had never touched him.
"Yeah kid, I do," Tony pressed one last kiss to Peter's forehead and let out a contented sigh. "I really do."