Dear Karma

Tony had been told, probably dozens of times over the last couple of decades he’d been alive, that he could be overbearing.

Now, he would love nothing more than to officially clear the air and inform the general public and his loved ones that the rumors were entirely fabricated, but unfortunately there was some truth to it.

He regularly scoped out security cameras in areas where he knew the Avengers liked to hang out. He had trackers put in almost every single jacket and bag that his wife and daughter owned. Hell, when he’d first made Peter’s suit, the kid had gone behind his back and hacked his way out of a ‘baby-monitor’ protocol that he’d installed (which he doesn’t exactly regret, but he can see how it must’ve come across). 

The gist of it is that Tony knew that he could be a lot, somewhere in the self-aware, critical observations of his own behaviors, and he knew that Peter hadn’t exactly appreciated the last couple of times he had hovered. So when the boy disappeared into the bathroom down the hall, he clenched his fists a couple of times, started to follow after him, and then immediately took a left turn towards the dining table. 

“Pete’s washing his hands,” He explained, pinching Morgan at the base of her neck, knowing where it would tickle the most. “I’ll make him a plate, don’t worry.”

He felt the gazes of his wife and friends as he stumbled around the table, trying to balance a plate and himself at the same time while piling it high with food. There was mac and cheese, green beans, slices of roast chicken and a blueberry cake. He knew Pepper must’ve been cooking all afternoon for the spread in front of them, and he felt slightly guilty that he she’d had to reheat everything. Having Happy and Rhodey over wasn’t necessarily a special occasion, at least not one that called for such a nice meal, but there was the addition of Peter, still locked away in the bathroom, and it warmed his heart that Pepper would try to impress him in any capacity. 

All he had told her earlier that day was that he had found what he was looking for, and that he would be back before dinner. Only one of those things has ended up being true, but the reward of having all of his favorite people under the same roof together eased a bit of his self-inflicted culpability. 

“You’re going to drop that,” Happy chided, standing up halfway from his seat to snatch the plate out of his one, trembling hand. Tony went to retort, something snarky and hilarious, probably, but he felt the words die in his throat. He watched, mouth drying up, as Rhodes and Pepper and Happy all passed the plate between them, adding the dishes closest to them, pouring gravy and spooning out vegetables, a subconscious effort amongst all of them to pile the food high and set it down at the empty table setting. 

“Sit down, dear,” His wife said, gently, a playful edge to her tone as she pushed his chair out with her foot. “You’re going to catch flies.” 

He obediently closed his hanging jaw, sinking into his seat and looking around at his family. It never escaped him, even in the quieter moments, just how much they had lived without him. It never failed to impress him, all the same, that they hadn’t just survived, but had been living despite his absence. Even now, as he wrapped his ankle around Pepper’s, winking at Morgan as he spooned some of her green beans onto his plate, they welcomed him to live right alongside them, as if he had never left at all. 

There was still an empty chair at the edge of the table, right next to Rhodey’s seat and a curve away from Pepper. There was a plate steaming with food and an untouched glass of water, droplets of condensation lazily sliding down the side and onto the polished wood. There was still someone missing, a spot just waiting to be sucked into their mushy, fuzzy little world. Just as they had with Tony, he knew every single person in the room would put everything they had into bringing the kid back to life; to bring him back to living. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, and knew he sounded choked-up, sincerity an envious little tinge in his throat as he tried to express the sheer magnitude of appreciation he knew he needed to give to his family. “This is all so…” He swallowed the softer, trembling gratitude, shaking his head helplessly as he stared at the table. “Thank you.”

Before anyone could say anything—chastising him for his cheesiness, reassurance of their kindness, or the vocal confusion his daughter always held—the floorboards creaked, and Peter stepped into the room. He was holding himself stiffly, his eyes on his socks, as if he was watching where his feet were hitting the floor. He’d taken his coat off, lost somewhere in the living room, and the sleeves of his shirt were covering his hands almost entirely, just the barest tips of his fingers visible.

It was a solid color, a blue just shy of grey, and Tony felt an odd sort of unfamiliarity settle at the back of his throat. What happened to the science puns, or the Star Wars, or the obnoxiously patterned sweaters? Why did it seem so… dull? He swallowed thickly, trying for a smile. 

“Um,” Peter said, standing a little bit too far away from the table for it to be casual. “Where should I…” His gaze flickered around, his eyes never meeting any of theirs, bags heavy under them. Tony felt something in his chest strain and tighten, even the thought of the uneasiness in Peter’s stance more for him to bear. 

“Right over here, sweetheart,” Pepper said, warmly, breaking the silence in a way Tony couldn’t. 

Rhodey smacked the back of the chair with his palm, pushing it out. “You’ve got the best seat at the table waiting for ya!”

The kid smiled, flashing his teeth for a moment of soft relief, clouded by his shuffling feet and flickering gaze. He looked to Tony before he sat, his expression frozen for a moment, indecisive in his acceptance of his place at the table. He wasn’t sure what to do, if he could reassure him or force him back into motion, so he merely looked at him, knowing his face must’ve betrayed every sentiment of adoration and gratitude that had been bursting between his eyelids. 

Peter sat, stiffly, and removed his gaze to the plate in front of him, a new sort of dawning apprehension licking at his features. “You aren’t vegetarian, are you?” Rhodey asked, mostly joking, and the corner of the other’s mouth quirked upwards. 

“No,” He replied, quietly. “And even if I was, I think it would be illegal not to at least try this,” He gestured, helpless and hungry, towards the chicken breast on his plate. “I think you’d need to kick me to the curb.”

“We’d never do that,” Pepper told him, kindly and chastising, at the same time Tony said, “By the scruff of your neck.” 

The kid looked between them for a moment, eyes wide, then amusement licked at his features, an unbearably small smile sliding across his face, followed by an honest-to-God giggle. He covered his mouth, still laughing, and Rhodey grabbed his shoulder, mouth agape. Morgan joined in, unaware of the tension that had begun to melt, fast enough to flood the room, hopping up and down in her seat. 

Tony felt his eyes beginning to itch, and his wife placed a hand on his knee, and everyone picked up their silverware. Dinner went off without any more hiccups, and soon Rhodey was talking with Peter as they did the dishes, and Pepper was tucking Morgan in for the night, and Tony was helping set up the guest rooms with Happy. They fluffed pillows and smoothed quilts, and when he went to sit down to catch his breath, his joints protesting from all the excitement of the day, his head of security and closest confidant sat down next to him. 

“He fits,” Happy told him, his gruff expression betraying his murmured tone. 

“You think?” Tony joked, his voice tight, waiting for approval. 

The other man hummed, untying his tie and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. “Like a puzzle piece. It’s fucking freaky that none of us realized it was missing.”

“I did,” He reminded him, and Happy just sort of looked at him, his gaze unreadable. 

Soon enough, he was collecting Peter, who seemed to be in an intense conversation with Rhodey about dish soap, and heading back upstairs. The kid grabbed his bag from the stairs, then his coat from the back of the couch, and followed him, awkward and stilted. Pepper met them in the middle of the hall, shutting Morgan’s door tight behind her, and giving both of them a tired smile. 

Tony walked just past the bathroom, nearly to the end of the hallway, and gestured to the door next to him with a flourish. His wife looked unamused. Peter looked practically squeamish. 

“The guest room?” Pepper leaned against the wall next to the door, crossing her arms and glancing down at the handle, like it had offended her somehow. 

“Peter’s room,” Tony corrected, and grasped the knob, swinging the door open with a flourish. His wife seemed like she wanted to say something more, her mouth pressed in a thin line, and Peter was still just standing there, gripping the strap of his duffel bag like someone would try to take it from him. “C’mon, it’s not a portal into Narnia,” He gestured both of them forward, backing up into the room and spreading his arm out, proving the safety of the threshold. 

Pepper joined him, rolling her eyes and glancing around warily, a normal reaction when you’ve forgotten an entire room in your own house. He slid his hand into hers encouragingly, turning once again to face the kid, smiling and trying not to shudder at the look on his face. Peter stayed firmly rooted in place for a long moment, looking skittish and haunted.

He was looking just past Tony, over his and Pepper’s shoulders and into the space that should unquestionably belong to him. That had belonged to him. He hesitated before taking a step forward, a bodily rattle originating from his shoulders making his movements stiff and slow. Tony tried to keep his cheerful expression, but knew he was failing, which was what he seemed to be doing a lot nowadays. 

Peter passed him, silent and slow, his eyes skimming across the threshold before actually looking into the room. His face tightened, slightly, when he caught sight of what laid within, and Tony felt himself trying to see everything through his eyes.

The room was modest, at least to his standards; a queen-sized bed, bookshelf, and desk with plenty of floor space still available. The closet was cracked open, a shoe poking out on its side, just a hint of the hoodies and sweaters hung up inside. The bed sheets were baby blue with a big, puffy quilt thrown over it, half a dozen pillows pushed uncoordinatedly against the headboard. There was a stuffed animal somewhere in there, too, a reasonably sized bunny he had gotten Peter for a perfect report card however many years ago. It was wearing sunglasses and a sweater vest, if he remembered the purchase correctly. 

At the desk there was an open textbook, pens with chewed caps and highlighters spread unevenly over the surface, one balanced just far enough on the table that it hadn’t fallen to the carpet yet. A jean jacket was hanging off of the back of the chair, a rip at one of the elbows and patches stitched neatly on the shoulders and chest. Tony couldn’t make out what most of them said or showed, but he caught the Death Star over the right breast pocket. 

He stepped inside, just behind Peter, who seemed to be trembling a little. There were a few posters up, peeling at the corners, ones of eighties movies and pop singers and one Tony had put there himself of a cat clinging to a tree branch, labeled ‘hang in there!’ in big, white block letters. He’d remembered trying to fill a void in the room, squished right in the end of the hallway, wondering how differently his life could’ve been if he was decorating it with the kid he was mourning. 

Glow in the dark stars were placed on the ceiling, stuck expertly with hands that could easily hang from the wall. One of them had fallen, though, either from the cheap adhesive or time worn down, and Peter walked over to it, picking it up and looking at the little crescent moon in his palm. He didn’t make a sound, but Tony could hear him cracking from the inside.

“Oh my god,” Pepper whispered, her voice soft. Tony looked back at her, squeezing her hand, but she was staring straight ahead, wearing an unreadable expression. “How in the world,” She broke away from his grip, walking into the room and covering her mouth. She reached out, hesitantly, and ran her fingers along the edges of a Back to the Future poster. 

“Now do you believe me?” He couldn’t help but say, gloating teasingly into the thick atmosphere. 

His wife turned to him, her jaw set and her lips trembling, a miserable expression of guilt within the flickering of her eyelashes. “I do.”

Tony felt his heart freeze, jumping to the very bottom of his stomach. He felt any sense of levity within him shudder and break. Peter hadn’t moved from his tiny little bubble, his head still bent towards the sticker in his hand. Pepper covered her mouth, breathing hard. 

“It’s the strangest feeling,” She muttered, choosing her words carefully as she looked over at Peter. “It’s like I’ve always known that this was here, and obviously the door didn’t magically pop into existence but…I never thought to look inside,” She turned to Tony, looking lost despite the hardened stoicism she tried so desperately to keep. “It’s like my eyes always wandered away from the doorway and I never questioned what… who this was all for.” 

Peter’s hand curled into a fist. “It was pretty strong magic that did it,” He told her, as if it would be a comfort, knowing part of your life was ripped away without any warning. Without the decency to even remember that it happened. “Don’t feel bad about it.” 

He walked, as if on autopilot, towards the short trash can at the corner of his desk, letting the tiny moon fall into it, then backing up towards his bed, sitting down heavily. He didn’t look at either of them. He didn’t do anything but breathe harshly through his nose. 

Tony stepped further into the room, with purpose, only to stop short, a disturbing insecurity clenching at his heart. What would he even say? What would he do to make any of this alright? What could he do but look on with sad eyes, trying not to lose it at the sight of his kid, curling into himself like he was scared to leave himself exposed for more than a few seconds at a time. 

Pepper brushed past him, hesitancy only swayed by the pure, unaffected impulse to comfort the distressed. She joined him on his mattress, her movements slow, deliberate as she measured the space between them and the shift of weight on memory-foam. 

“Does it hurt,” She began, barely above a whisper. “To be back here? Around all of us…and all of this?” She gestured around the room, towards the walls and closet. 

Tony nearly choked when he saw the tears, fat and slippery as Peter blinked them out of his eyes. “A little,” He sniffled. “But it’s not your fault. It’s…don’t blame yourself, or anything.”

“How can you stand it?” Pepper continued, pushing forward past the kid’s weak attempt at shifting attention. “I can’t imagine what it must be like,” She asked, sitting next to him and hesitating before she reached out with her sleeve, wiping the wetness on the boy’s cheeks. “We really loved you, didn’t we?” 

Peter stared at her, his eyes wide and his cheeks red. She continued to clean his face, motherly instinct taking over any reservations that still remained. He cracked a smile, as if comforting her was more important in the moment than any of the distress he was hiding.

“I like to think you did,” He told her, his eyes skittering over to Tony, ever so briefly, before returning to Pepper. “And…and I don’t know how this really works, for the longest time I just tried to stay out of your way. So…I don’t know how I’m supposed to let you know me again. Because I don’t expect you to love me, not like you did, anyway,”

He shrugged, seemingly unaware of the heartbreaking sentiment he held. “I mean, I guess I just want to say thank you. Because you’re already being so nice to me, and you don’t really have a reason to be.” 

“Don’t thank me for being kind,” She told him, her expression tight, stricken. “I’m not doing anything for gratitude, not any of this. We’re just… I’m just trying to make you feel welcome in my home. A home that apparently has an entire room already dedicated to you in it,” She smiled, looking over at Tony with a pointed curve of her eyebrows. 

He approached, taking a seat on the other side of Peter, putting a hand on the boy's knee. “This is your home, kid, you don’t have to thank us for wanting you here.” 

Peter stared at the floor, his lip wobbling, his body looking so small between the two of them, bent into himself and trying to remain composed in any semblance of the word. 

“I have to do something,” He managed, though his voice was thick, shaking. “It’s like…all of the best things are happening one after the other. And I didn’t do anything to deserve it. It just… you just did it for me,” He looked up at Tony, his eyes wet and shining. “And you’re telling me I’m not supposed to thank you for it?”

“Yes,” He said, with every inch of resolve he could muster, even as his own tears began to fall. “And I’ll keep telling you that until you stop feeling like you don’t deserve this.”

“That’s stupid,” Peter muttered, and he couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him, scraping the insides of his cheeks and the back of his tongue. The boy scrubbed at his eyes, and Tony leaned in, pulling him under his arm. Pepper touched his hand lightly, then moved the weight to Peter’s back, rubbing up and down. 

They held him like that, squished between them, for a while. Tony didn’t think it was all that stupid, but he did file away the complaint for later. He was trying to be better about those things.