My Heart
Tony Stark was at a fundraiser and he didn’t want to gouge his eyes out with a fork, which was saying something. You’d think saving the universe would have been enough of a service but no you also have to attend social events.
In all seriousness, he was enjoying himself; what with the cause being so close to his heart. It was nice that the snobby riches were putting aside their egos and differences and coming together for an important cause, for once. Money that would have been spent showing off was instead being used to actually help those in need. So many people had lost their jobs, homes, families, their literal life and Tony was glad that he could play some part in helping them get back to some semblance of the life they once had.
But if asked would he rather be at home with his kids participating in the most asinine of activities? Absolutely.
Okay, maybe he was being a little bit of a Helicopter parent. Maybe Pepper was right (along with Rhodey, Natasha, Steve, Happy… and May), maybe –just maybe– he was just a smidge bit obsessed with his parental involvement. But Tony felt like he deserved to be a helicopter parent. Call it separation anxiety, but after experiencing five years without Peter’s presence in his life, he didn’t want to take a chance.
It was weird. He was aware. He used to be… normal. But he was terribly, horrifically affectionate after the blip. He desperately needed the kid to know that Tony was there if he needed him. He needed to be with his kids, he couldn’t hide it if he wanted to (and he’d know because he had tried – and failed).
He was at the bar with Rhodey after giving his big speech, Shirley Temple in hand, frowning at his phone screen. His thumbs were dancing over the keypad, wondering if he should cut to the chase and message the kid or soldier through without bothering him.
“Hey Tony?”
“Hm?”
“Your dad is showing.”
Tony rolled his eyes at his friend, shutting his phone out of sheer spite and pocketing it. “Thank you, Rhodey, for your extremely unique perspective.”
A minute passed –at most– and his fingers were already tapping incessantly on his knee, hand itching to reach back into the pocket, knowing Rhodey’s very smug gaze was focused solely on him. Concluding that he no longer cared about the judgment, he moved his hands towards his pocket-
“Tony,” came the stern yet entertained voice of his better half. Pepper slid onto the stool beside him, looking stunning in a blue satin dress as she grasped his hand firmly.
“Relax,” her tone was humorous though the underlying command was something Tony knew was only discernible to (and meant for) him. “Loosen up, would you? Look around. All these people participating in something good? You did this. Give yourself some credit. Enjoy”
And he wanted to. He really did. Tony sighed and turned his hand to intertwine his fingers with Pepper’s, smiling at her and wondering how he got so lucky.
He looked over the room and caught many familiar faces amongst the businessmen. Steve looked harried talking to Yelena as Natasha listened, hiding a smile behind her champagne glass. Thor had his arm around Jane, both of whom were watching Sam and Barnes argue and Tony could bet it had to be about the stupidest of things (as was usually the case). Bruce looked halfway between bashful and curious as he questioned T'challa, about Wakandan technology if Tony had to guess. Strange looked like he needed saving as Scott showed him magic tricks while Hope openly laughed.
Tony smiled and pressed a kiss to his and Pepper’s clasped hands. Maybe he could stay and enjoy instead of ditching the event halfway like he had originally planned to.
His phone vibrated, and Tony surprised even himself with the speed with which he whipped out his phone and swiped the receive button, almost feeling the synchronized eye rolls from Pepper and Rhodey.
“Morgan? Isn’t it past your bedtime? I bet Peter let you stay up late, huh, I knew I shouldn’t have-”
“D-Daddy?” Morgan hiccuped over the line.
And Tony swore his frickin heart almost stopped beating. Noticing the color draining from his face, Rhodey and Pepper leaned in, as Tony dazedly put the call on speaker.
“Baby, what happened?” Pepper chimed in, concern dripping from her tone.
“P-Peter, he’s hurt. He-” and Tony Stark was out of the building.
So much for not ditching the event.
He barely made it out of the banquet hall, before he was crashing through a window, Iron Man suit materializing around him. Judging by the familiar sounds of thrusters behind him, he knew Rhodey wasn’t too far behind.
Morgan had cut off with a sob and Tony had to heave a couple of breaths before he could trust himself with his voice.
“Moguna? Honey, breathe, okay? I’ll be right there. Can you tell me what's happening?”
“I-I heard a loud noise and I went to Petey’s room but he wasn’t-” she broke off with another cry.
“That’s it, sweetie. You’re doing great.”
What was not doing great was his suit. He needed to go faster. He needed to be with his kids now. He doesn’t care if his suit’s engine combusts from the exertion as long as he gets there. He was getting desperate, feeling trapped in his suit, held captive to the concept of space, time, and distance.
“Friday! What’s the ETA?”
“Ten minutes, sir.”
“Make it five.”
Tony heard Morgan gulp and continue, “I went downstairs and Petey was– he was fighting this guy and-and-and there were two other guys. And Peter was hurt! He was bleeding! He told me to go upstairs, to lock my door, and call you.”
“You did a great job, you hear me. Peter-” Tony cleared his throat, as his voice threatened to break, “Peter would be proud of you Morgan. Me and Uncle Rhodey are almost there, okay?”
He almost went supernova when his cabin came into sight. He broke through the window, and the first thing he noticed was Peter’s outstretched legs and in front of him, a man in a ski mask brandishing a knife at the kid. His kid.
He slammed into him with the full force of the eight hundred kilograms of titanium-gold alloy and was about to crush his skull into powder when he noticed.
The blood.
So much of it.
The sound that escaped his vocal cords wasn’t unlike that of a wounded animal, as he fell to the floor on his knees, crawling towards Peter as his suit melted off him.
“Peter!” his knees were already soaked with blood. Peter’s blood. His kid’s blood!
Seeping seemingly endlessly from Peter’s side, the blood had pooled around his body, sticking to the floorboards, the smell of metallic blood wafting over the entire room.
A choked sound behind him alerted him of Rhodey’s presence. “I’ll-” his sound tightened, “I’ll get Morgan. You stay with him.”
Make sure that he is okay.
He had been so distracted by the wound to Peter’s side, that when he took note of the condition of his face, Tony’s heart broke even more. Blood trickled freely from his nose and cheekbones. Tony’s body chilled further when he noticed the blood pouring from his mouth and staining his shoulder.
Tony took Peter’s face in his shivering hands, and forced his drooping gaze to meet his desperate eyes, “Kid! Stay with me, please! Come on, don’t do this. Talk to me!”
He pulled back, mentally hitting himself. What was he doing? He was wasting time. He put his trembling fingers to Peter’s side and braced himself for Peter’s scream before applying pressure.
Nothing. Not even a whimper from Peter’s mouth.
Tony felt like dying.
The lack of response from Peter really did not help with the anxiety attack that Tony was barely keeping at bay. He just wants to hear his kid’s voice-
“M-Morgan?”
Bleeding out and still worrying about his sister. His precious, selfless, dumb, sacrificial kid.
“Rhodey’s got her. That’s it, kid. Keep talking to me.”
“S’ C-cold.”
Tony’s vision was blurred by an onslaught of tears. He blinked rapidly. Peter’s face was starting to lose color, the effects of blood loss clear with his rapid breathing, and cold, clammy skin.
“We’ll get you warmed up soon.”
You’ll be okay. You have to be okay.
“Okay? You hear me. Just-Just, hold on. Please.”
Tony heard the EMTs approaching. His kid would be okay. Peter would make it. He is the strongest person he knows. One stab wound can’t stop the amazing Spider-Man.
“I’m-I’ll be okay.” Peter coughed, “I’m safe. As long as you’re here, I am okay.”
Tony exhaled a laugh. Astounded by his kid’s utter faith in him. He smiled and felt some semblance of peace when he saw Peter smile.
One second, they were both smiling.
The next, Peter was passing out.
Tony reached for him, as the kid’s body completely gave out on him. Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulder, the other reaching wildly for his pulse point.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” he muttered, breathing fully only after finding the erratic but existing pulse.
“Boss, the EMT’s are here.”
That was all the warning he got before the medics were streaming into his home. Out of sheer protectiveness, his arm around Peter tightened, heartbeat skyrocketing at the prospect of leaving Peter.
“Sir, please give us space.”
Tony didn’t feel in control of his body. He felt as if had escaped the shell of his body and ascended to a different plane of existence, watching in a daze as the paramedics pushed him aside.
They worked in great tandem. Two of them grabbed Peter’s limp body, placed him on a stretcher, and fastened the straps, as another secured a BP cuff to his bicep. A different paramedic had applied a tourniquet to Peter’s side in no time and was dressing the wound.
They lifted his stretcher and began marching Peter towards the Ambulance outside. Tony naturally went to follow when a hand stopped his shoulder.
“Sir, you can’t come with us,” the medic said, her eyes gentle yet haunted in a way that told Tony this was something she did all the time, “Your son’s in good hands. Rest assured, we’ll take care of him.”
And with that, she was gone too, leaving only Tony and the horrible mess of a living room behind. He took a step ahead, only for his feet to hit a… was that a Lego set? He shook his head, too tired and too exhausted to do more than drop to the floor, leaning against the sofa and closing his eyes, praying this was some horrible nightmare he would wake up from.
Another body plopped down beside him, “Hey Tones, how you holding up?”
“How’s Morgan?”
Deflection.
Rhodey sighed, knowing his tactics all too well by now but also knowing not to call him out on it. “She was crying when I got there. Was awake just long enough to ask if Peter would be okay before she fell asleep.”
“Hm,” Tony’s fist clenched in his lap with sudden aggression, dried blood flaking off of the skin of his knuckles, “and the kidnappers?”
“Cuffed in the backyard. Authorities should be on their way to pick up the garbage soon.”
Tony tightened his jaw, only resisting killing them for the sake of Peter who wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of Tony killing three people. And the aggression left as sudden as it had arrived, leaving him slumped against the sofa, feeling defeated.
“Can you-” he winced at how scratchy his voice was, “Can you be here with Morgan? I-I don’t know if I can… Rhodey, I can’t-” he broke off.
What he was afraid to say was he didn’t know how to face her yet. Didn’t know how he could assure her everything would be okay when he had seen his world bleeding out against the countertop of his home just minutes prior. Didn’t know if he was ready to admit to her that he didn’t deserve the mantle of the fearless hero she believed him to be. Didn’t know if he could provide the anchor of stability to his daughter when he felt he was hanging onto his sanity by the very tips of his fingers.
“Tony,” Rhodey put a hand on his shoulder, the look on his face conveying that he understands –the immediate understanding attributed to the almost thirty years of friendship, of brotherhood– and Tony thanked the universe for giving him this gem of a person in his life.
“Of course, I can,” Rhodey said.
Tony’s resolve strengthened.
“Okay then,” and with that he stood up, marching towards the garage.
“Where are you going?” Rhodey looked up at him. When Tony met his eyes, Rhodey was taken aback to see the raw determination in his eyes.
“To my son.”