Panic Attack - Tony Stark
“Kid, you ready for lunch? I'm making subs.”
You can hear Tony's voice, but it's like you’re under water.
Tony comes into the living room. “Come on, come eat. I told you to turn the TV off - kid?!”
His alarm is in response to your breathing or lack thereof. You haven't gotten a full breath in for what feels like hours but has only been minutes. Instead you're stuck with whatever you can force in between concealed sobs.
Suddenly Tony is in front of you, voice warm but insistent.
“Hey, what do you need? Are you hurt anywhere?”
You can't speak enough to answer him, but a shake of your head is all the answer he needs.
“Okay, okay.” Tony shushes softly. “ I don’t know what's going on in your head, but if we have any hope of figuring it out I'm gonna need you to breathe, Bambi. Think you can do that?”
You shake your head again. Breathing just means more crying, which is what you're trying to stop doing. Unfortunately, Tony catches onto that too as he shifts to sit next to you on the couch.
“Miele, hey….stop it. Stop trying to reign it in. I can tell you from experience it isn’t going to work so you may as well just let it out. If you don't, everything will just stay stuck in your heart and you'll feel like crap for a lot longer than you need to. And before you say you have nothing to be crying about, clearly you do or you wouldn’t be trying so hard to hold back tears right now. Whatever this is, it's perfectly normal and valid. You don't have to bury it with me.”
A combination of his words and the gentle tone in which they were said breaks something inside you. You can't hold it back anymore. You sob, face cupped in your hands while Tony runs a hand up and down your spine. He's murmuring more words in Italian that you can't understand, but find comforting. After a few minutes, he’s back to English.
“Remember what I said about breathing? Let’s try some of that. Oxygen is good stuff. Do it with me; in for four, hold for four, release for four. That’s it….nice and slow.”
Together, you and Tony count breaths this way until the fog in your head disappears and you sag into the back of the couch. “Thanks, Tony.”
“Anytime, kid. God knows I’ve had my fair share of those and they’re not pleasant. It’s better if you don’t have to go through them alone.” Tony tears up a little at the words and all the emotional memories attached to them.
“Morgan’s made you soft, old man.” You quip, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s not just Morgan, sweetheart; you’ve helped too.”