It’s a dad thing
Watching Peter and Morgan meet and then unexpectedly become instantly nearly inseparable had to be one of the best things Tony had seen in his entire life. He’d been anxious about that moment- had been preparing himself for the worst, but by some stroke of luck, it went better than anyone had imagined.
It wasn’t completely smooth sailing since then. That had been a month ago. Some days were great. Tony was on a lot better terms with May, and most days that seemed to help relax Peter.
It wasn’t all great though.
There were days when only Morgan could draw Peter out of his room. But there were also days when not even Morgan could cast the dark overcast look from Peter’s face that shattered Tony’s heart every time.
Most mornings turned into a game of “Where will we find Peter today?” Because he hardly ever woke up in his own room. His three favorite spots were the couch, Morgan’s room, and May’s room. But one incredibly panic inducing morning, he was found all the way over in the guest house, curled up with Alya FitzSimmons.
After being home for two weeks, people started pestering to visit more and more, and Peter had finally agreed. Bucky was among one of the first - and surprisingly One of the more frequent visitors outside of Peter’s friend, Ned. Even more surprisingly, it had been Tony’s idea for the two of them to connect. Barnes was familiar with having a prosthetic arm, and he hoped he might be able to help Peter adjust.
The latest visitor was Carol Danvers, accompanied Rhodey. Carol seemed to wear the same level of guilt over what happened that a lot of them did- but none more than Tony himself.
Rhodey and James were situated on the porch swing, watching Morgan play in the snow while Danvers and Pepper chatted inside with Peter and May.
“He’s gone to his room. I think he wants to see you,” Danvers voice came from the door, announcing her presence as she stepped outside. Her face was was solemn and her eyes stayed on the freezing lake. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what it was I said but I seem to have upset him.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. He’s probably just tired.” He assured, standing from the swing with a silent look towards his friend- who silently assured Morgan was fine and gestured for him to go.
Peter was mostly physically healed at this point. Had even started wearing his new arm. But he still grew tired easily, but Tony suspected it was more that things were mentally draining than anything. That was something he understood all too well.
May have a nod down the hall towards Peter’s room, silently confirming that he had indeed wanted to see him.
A minute later, he found Peter in his room, sitting at his desk, and pulling at his hair as he stared at… sometime Tony couldn’t see. His phone, maybe? He’s just about to tap his knuckles on the open door to announce his presence when Peter spoke up.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he sighed, his hand falling onto the desk before he turned to face Stark with such a pained expression that it made Tony’s heart stutter.
“So that we’re on the same page here…?” He prompted, walking the rest of the way into the room so he could close the door behind him and moved to sit on the kid’s bed.
“That! To start with!” Peter exasperated, straightened his back to turn an almost accusing stare at him.
Tony froze, unsure what he’d done wrong. His eyes moved frantically around the room for some sort of clue and he pointed at the bed, silently asking if he wanted him to move.
“I can’t take the looks- and the pity- and the *heart*. I can’t do it. I don’t deserve any of it.” Peter cried, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and the elder man felt his stomach clench and his heart pick up speed then something finally *clicked* when he saw Peter’s expression change.
“You can? - Never mind - I’m a little confused here, Pete. What is it you don’t think you deserve? Did Blondie say something?”
“Just the usual.” Peter retorted, leaning back in his chair with a long sigh. “You’re so brave Peter. We are all in debted to you. Yada yada yada.” He’s pointedly not looking at him, but he’s talking, and hasn’t completely closed himself off again, so Tony takes that as a win. The past month has been a constant game of small moments of vulnerability and bonding followed quickly by shutting down and closing people out.
Tony couldn’t even allow himself to get too frustrated with it- even with the way Peter had been shutting people out, he’d still been dealing with everything with a maturity that even he, himself still didn’t have when it came to dealing with hardships.
Before Tony has a chance to respond, Peter is continuing, glaring at a Star Wars poster on the wall as if it had personally offended him. “No one owes me anything. What I did… it wasn’t brave or heroic. It was selfish.” He spit out the last word with so much conviction and self-hatred that the word settles heavily on Tony’s heart.
Suddenly he feels like he knows exactly why Peter had wanted to see him, rather than his Aunt May, or Fitz, or anyone else. They icy guilt that he’d felt since the day his son stole the stones from him washed over him in waves, and he was frozen to his spot with it.
”I just… I couldn’t do it Ma..Ta..” Peter stuttered - unsure what he wanted to call him, and it wasn’t the first time the kid had done this, and just like the other times, it sent another spike of pain through his chest. But he did his best to keep his expression neutral. This wasn’t about him. “I couldn’t do it.” He repeated instead, deciding to just not call him anything.
“Do what?” Tony prompted quietly, surprised that he’d managed to find his own voice and the way Peter’s eyes snapped to him, with so much intensity, suggested he was just as shocked as Tony was to hear him speak up.
“I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die. I couldn’t do it. Not again. I didn’t even think about anything else. I just… I couldn’t lose you.”
Tony moves without making the conscious decision to do so, drawn like a magnet and immediately unfrozen. He wraps his arms around his son, tugging him close until he feels Peter relax and lean into him. He just held on tighter when he felt the boy’s shoulders start to shake with silent sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tony murmured, resting his chin on top of his son’s head, tears sliding down his own cheeks.
A rush of emotions flooded through him the second he started hugging Peter, and he never wanted to let go. The reminder that this was his son and that he finally had him back rushing to the surface along with every single time he’d failed him. There could be no number of apologies that would make up for every time he’d done him wrong.
In reality, Peter would have every right to hate him. Probably should have hated him. He’d failed him as a father - and as a mentor when he’d had no idea he was his father. Then failed him as a father again by not knowing. Then again once he did know. He never stopped failing him.
But his kid never seemed to. Even now.
The fact that his son had even risked his own life to save him? It made his chest ache and it hurt. Like he could still feel every piece of shrapnel that used to live there when they would move and try to get to his heart.
They stayed like that for several minutes. Tony unwilling to let go until he was made to, and for a while, Peter seemed just as reluctant to pull away- and he couldn’t help wonder if the kid maybe needed this just as much as he did. Tony had been trying to give the kid space. To move at his pace and it had been agonizing.
Eventually, Peter did pull away with a snip, wiping his nose with the back of his hand with his eyes trained on his lap.
“I don’t regret it, you know?” Peter all but whispered, bringing his eyes up to meet Tony’s. “If I had to, I would do it all over again. I would over power you. Just like I did before. I think you think I regret it… When I get quiet. On my bad days. But I don’t. And you don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault what happened to me because of what I did. I just… I need you to understand that.” His voice had started out tentative- the strain from crying still audible. But by the time he stopped, the same conviction from earlier was there.
“I know you don’t. That doesn’t make me any less sorry. Or make it hurt any less to watch you struggle or in pain. This isn’t the life I dreamt for you,” Tony told him, matching his son’s intensity. He had never let go of Peter, was still holding onto his arm and he gave his arm a gentle squeeze before adding with a much lighter tone, “Pretty sure it’s a dad thing.”
Peter laughed at that last comment, an almost light and humorous giggle and the sound seemed to melt away some of the tension in the room. “Yeah, maybe it is, but still.” But he was smiling now, and it made the tightness in Tony’s chest ease up significantly.
He could feel something shift between them and he had to hope that this is what they both had needed. He wasn’t naive enough to think that all their problems were solved or that Peter wouldn’t still have bad days and shut him and everyone else out and nothing Peter ever said would make Tony feel less guilty for the life Peter was dealt. But there seemed to be a new acceptance - maybe that acceptance was always there and Tony just hadn’t seen it - but he no longer felt like he needed to distance himself from his son or walk on eggshells.
He could finally just…
“Thanks… Dad.” Tony’s heart leaped and Peter seemed to smile in response. He made a mental note to ask him about that later. “I’d apologize for crying all over your shirt and… freaking out again. But… something tells me you’d just tell me not to. So just… thank you.”
“Anytime, kid.”
Yeah, he could finally just be his dad and that was the greatest gift he could ask for. He would gladly take on all of the guilt and the pain to just be his dad again. He had too many years to make up for, after all.