The Aftermath
It had been five hours since the bomb went off. Peter had run straight back to the apartment, not knowing where else he could go. For each of those agonising hours Peter had just stared at his ceiling, tears leaking from his eyes but he didn’t make a sound. He may have been in shock, but he didn’t care.
All he could think of was that she was gone. May had died. And Peter didn’t stop it. It was just like with Uncle Ben, now it was with Aunt May. How many deaths did he have to bear witness to before he could be happy? Everytime he thought he finally had a stable family, they fucking died. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to have a family, maybe he was destined to be alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t cause any more deaths.
But all those thoughts were quickly replaced by May’s last words playing in his mind on a loop.
I love you.
He never said it back.
He never told May he loved her. She had died never being told ‘I love you’ back. What kind of a nephew was he if he never told her he loved her in her final moments. Peter wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and punch the wall, he wanted to go to that bomber and beat him until he collapsed from exhaustion. He wanted to cry until he dehydrated himself. Instead, he lay on his bed and stared at the wall. Tears still fell from his eyes slowly.
He didn’t know how long had passed until he finally fell into a restless sleep.
—
Peter awoke to the door slamming open and somebody calling his name.
A childish part of him hoped it was May and that the night before had all been a terrible nightmare. Alas, as he looked down at his Spider-Man costume, still caked in dirt and his hands still covered in blood- her blood- he knew his hopes were futile.
“Peter?” The voice rang out through the apartment again, various more doors being slammed open.
Peter looked away from his hands, his heart leaping into his throat the more he thought about the previous night. It took five more seconds before his bedroom door was flung open by whoever was in his apartment. He should have been more worried about that.
In front of him stood Happy, the man's hair messy and eyes bloodshot. He looked as much of a mess as Peter felt. The man stared at him and Peter stared back, a million words unsaid. It took all of ten seconds before Happy raced towards him and wrapped his arms around him tightly.
Peter was taken aback, surprised. The surprise gave way to an overwhelming amount of grief. He clung onto Happy, hiding his face in his shoulder as his body shook with sobs. He was faintly aware of Happy trying to console him but all he thought about was the way May had smiled at him before the bomb went off, the way she had protested against him helping her, the way she told him how she loved him, using her dying breaths to console him and say how much she loved him. He never said it back.
Hiccups erupted from his chest as he clung on tightly to Happy, no doubt wrinkling the man's suit. His breath started coming in too fast but still felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. Happy moved both of them to sit on Peter's bed.
He rested his hands on the teens shoulders, thumb rubbing small circles, “Kid, you have to breathe, okay? Just in and out, that’s all.”
Peter shook his head, hands reaching up and testing into his hair, the pain grounding him slightly.
Happy shook his head, gently pulling Peter’s hands away, “No, no, kid, just breathe. Breathe.”
Peter’s eyes widened as he fell deeper into panic, “I-I can’t! She’s gone happy, she- she’s gone!” Peter closed his eyes and hoped by some miracle that when he opened them he was anywhere else, anywhere else but here. “It’s my f-fault. I didn’t stop him- I tried! I tried but- but I wasn’t good enough, I-”
“Peter. Just shut up and breathe. In and out, okay? In and out.” Happy never retracted his hands from Peter’s, thumbs still rubbing small circles in hopes of grounding the panicking teen.
Peter shut up and tried breathing slowly, chest rattling as he did. As his breath regulated, he opened his eyes, cheeks stained red with tear tracks with more tears being held back. It hit Happy that Peter was still a kid. Sure, he could stop a bus with his bare hands and probably beat him in a fight with minimal effort but he was still a kid. A kid who had just lost the last of his remaining family.
Happy leaned back, concern still filling his eyes, “You okay now, Pete?”
Peter nodded, wiping the tears off his cheeks, “Yeah. Yeah I… maybe? Probably not…”
Happy frowned, “Yeah I- I can imagine. Look, I don’t want to rush you but we got the call about your Aunt and, to avoid you going to social services, we managed to get them to agree to let us look after you for a while.”
Peter watched as Happy bit his lip, looking down once he finished speaking. Peter was not expecting that. He hadn’t even thought about what happened next, too caught up in grief. “What happens after that?”
“Huh?” Happy’s brow furrowed in confusion, watching Peter fumble for his words.
“Well… you said I’d stay with you but only for a while. What happens after that?”
Sighing, Happy explained, “Well I guess it depends on whether the lawyers can get some kind of guardianship papers signed or not. They probably can since Tony has the best lawyers in New York but, yeah.”
“Wait- why am I staying with Mr Stark?”
Happy’s eyes widened, “Shit, forgot to say. The hospital initially called Tony since he was the only adult emergency contact for May. He’s been dealing with social services and made it so you can stay with him in the lake house.”
Peter felt as if he had been spinning for an hour non-stop. Mr Stark, who he hadn’t seen or heard from in over two months, wanted him to go live with him? Didn’t he have his own family to look after, surely he had no time for Peter. Or maybe it wasn’t that deep. Maybe he just didn’t want Spider-Man in foster care.
Pete rubbed the slowly forming headache which was probably from all the crying and confusion, “I- what?”
Shaking his head, Happy waved him off, “Just. Pack a bag, or maybe a suitcase if you have one. The car’s downstairs, I'll drive you down to Tony once you're ready.”
Peter’s eyes widened, scrambling to stand up from his bed, “Already?”
“I mean, if you want to stay here instead of with Tony, be my guest but he wouldn’t be happy with it.”
Peter sighed, shaking his head, “No I- I’ll go pack.”
“Great.”
—
They’d been on the road for a few hours and neither had spoken a word.
Peter was more than happy to sit in silence. There was a tightness in his chest, like somebody had shoved his heart into a clamp. It tightened every time he tried to talk or do anything. He would be more than happy to just sit in the car silently and let the world pass without a thought.
Happy had left the divider open- something Peter had always wanted but couldn’t care less this time- and kept glancing back at him as if he would suddenly disappear. Or break down. Probably the latter.
He was fine though. Sure he felt like he was walking a tightrope and any thought of the night before would send him toppling off and to a painful death but he was fine. Sure he felt as if the world just just shattered and he didn’t have the energy to piece all the shards together but he was fine. Sure he felt like curling into a ball and weeping, hoping that the world around him would stop moving but he was fine. He was fine.
“We’re here.” Happy looked in the rearview mirror and Peter reluctantly made eye contact, trying to ignore the clamp around his heart, “I’ll grab your bag. Go knock on the door, I’m sure Tony is waiting.”
Peter nodded, opening the car door and stepping out.
Having lived in the city for as long as he could remember, the woods around the lake house seemed so silent. The usual sound of traffic, the constant sirens rushing through the city, the shouting from drunks late at night was all replaced by the tweeting of birds, the rustling of leaves, the creaking of the swing on the porch swaying in the wind.
It was all so quiet.
Peter walked up to the lake house, taking in a deep breath and tucking away all the sadness that was slowly flooding his every being. The house wasn’t as big as Peter thought the first time he had visited but he knew it was decked out in every piece of tech possible in the middle of nowhere.
There was a small swing on the porch, swaying softly in the wind. It squeaked everytime it moved and definitely needed oiling. The lake to the left of the house was still but Peter could hear a faint splashing that was no doubt from fish. The door was painted a faint green, the handle a shiny silver.
Without a second thought, Peter knocked on the door.
It opened nearly instantly.
In front of him stood Mr Stark, dressed in his usual clothes; a band t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He hadn’t shaved in a while, stubble coating his chin. His hair looked a mess, all sticking up in various angels just like Happy. Peter instantly noticed the man's arm.
Last time he had visited, Mr Stark had been set up in a portable hospital bed, stable enough to stay at home but he still had to be monitored. Peter remembered seeing the place where his arm should have been, wrapped up in a plethora of bandages. Now, Mr Stark was wearing a full red and gold prosthetic arm. It was obviously themed after Iron-Man even if the man was recently retired.
Peter urged himself to look away, not wanting to be rude. He looked up at his mentor, making eye contact. The man looked back before smiling softly but his eyes were filled with sadness or possibly sympathy.
“Pete.”
“Mr Stark.”
The man suddenly took one huge step forward and wrapped his arms around Peter, similar to how Happy had done earlier that day. Peter took in a sharp breath before resting his chin on the man's shoulder.
He had a sudden flash back to back on the battlefield on Titan, pulling Mr Stark out of some rubble. He can’t remember what he had been saying, mostly just random rambling. It had taken him by surprise when Mr Stark had suddenly pulled him in for a hug, patting his back. He faltered for a few moments in shock before embracing the man back.
Now, Peter was trying his hardest to keep himself together. Tears formed in his eyes but he didn’t dare let them fall, he had cried enough as it was. He bit his lip to stop it from wobbling, trying to concentrate on his breathing rather than the way the clamp around his heart tightened to the point of pain.
Tony started to rub his hand up and down Peter’s back, the other hand cradling his head gently as if he was fragile. The man leaned towards his ear, “You okay kid?”.
No, he definitely wasn’t. He was on that tightrope, holding on with one hand and desperately trying to tug himself back up with the other but he didn’t have it in him to try that hard. Maybe it would be better to just let go of that tightrope and let himself fall. It would be a lot easier.
Instead, Peter just nodded, not trusting himself to speak unless his voice cracked. The older man must have taken that as a sign to break the hug, putting a distance between the two of them but keeping a hand on his shoulder.
“C'mon kid, let’s get you sorted.” He nodded at Happy as he took Peter’s suitcase off the man, moving his hand onto Peter’s back as he led him towards the stairs.
–
Mr Stark kept his hand on Peter’s back the whole way up the stairs, both of them silent. Peter vaguely remembered the layout of the house from the last time he was here but he had only gone upstairs to use the bathroom. He wondered if Mr Stark even had a spare bedroom- why should he? It was just Pepper, him and Morgan- but as they turned left right after coming up the stairs, he was proven wrong.
It looked just like his room back at his apartment. His old apartment. He quickly shoved that thought away. The walls were a light blue and covered in various posters of his favourite movies. A single bed was pushed against the wall in the far right, covered in a blue duvet. A desk covered in various bits of stationery was right by the door, a spinny chair neatly tucked under.
It was almost as if Peter had decorated it himself.
Peter turned to Mr Stark who was slightly behind him, letting Peter into the room before him. The man smirked at him, motioning to the room, “So, you like it? Hope so because I designed it myself.”
Peter stared blankly at the man, mouth open, “I- Mr Stark it’s great I- don’t worry.” His voice lacked his usual enthusiasm and Mr Stark obviously picked up on if his faintly hidden wince was anything to go off of.
“Look, it’s getting late, Pepper and Morgan will be back soon but I'd get some sleep if I were you kid. Morgan’s going to want to meet you and she is a handful, trust me.” The man gave him a small smile before placing Peter’s suitcase on the floor by his bed, ruffling the boy’s hair before leaving, closing the door behind him.
And with that, Peter was alone.