O Brother, Where Art Thou?

‘Are we in fifth grade now, Pete? Giving me the silent treatment….hmph. Well, don’t let it ever be said I’m not stubborn. You forget I am also the dad of a very determined six-year-old. I can wait you out, you know. I have powers now. Dad powers. They’re very frightening. You don’t want to talk? That’s fine. That’s perfect. Great, really. I’ve got a lot to say for the both of us. You know, one time I…

‘What are you doing?’

‘Pep! Jesus. You scared me. Nothing. What?’

‘It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you are standing in front of our bathroom mirror practicing a lecture. Like an actual, old man lecture.’

‘Pep.’

‘Tony. Sullen isn’t a good look on you.’

‘I’m not sullen.’

‘He says, sullenly.’

‘Pepper.’

‘Honey. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out. May said that when Peter lost Ben, he didn’t talk for six weeks. When he first came to live with them, after his parents, it was four months. I don’t think you can rush these things.’

‘You’re right. I know. It’s just.’

‘I know. You’re a fixer. It’s one of the many things I love about you. But Peter doesn’t need a solution. He just needs a guarantee you won't leave.’

It may not have been the smartest idea to overwhelm Peter with so many people in the room when he woke up, but there wasn’t one person there Tony felt it right to exclude. Except maybe the sorcerer passed out in the bed next to him, but there was nothing to be done about that at the moment. The shared guilt between them all was palpable and bitter, so their relief was electric when they finally realized Peter had broken out of the spell. And it was easy, for a moment, for Tony to pretend that this was the end of this particular hell. A hell he didn’t even realize he was in until half a day ago. (Hell will always be living without Peter Parker. Tony now lived through it twice, and it was three times too many for him.) It was easy, for a moment, for Tony to believe that once Peter woke, he’d be just as thrilled to have them back. This denial of reality reared up to meet Tony like an old friend, but Tony knew the sting of toxic friendships, so he did his best to fight against it. 

Because Peter, most likely, would not be thrilled. Tony just took a walk among Peter’s darkest fears and insecurities. His kid had been struggling even before Beck, his mental health taking a sharp decline about six months after the final battle with Thanos. He started drinking and isolating before Europe, and before they could address it, he left. Then, they had practically no time to process the torture Beck put him through before that damn spell took him away from them. For eleven months, Peter had been dealing with the guilt of Pepper’s and May’s deaths (because Tony knew that he blamed himself for them both), the reality of being completely and totally alone, the siren song of numbing it all with alcohol and partying, and the consequences of multiple suicide attempts depression. 

But maybe he was wrong. (He hoped he was wrong.) 

Rhodey had a strong hand on his shoulder and Happy was standing by the door protectively. Morgan was sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed, while Ned and Michelle stood opposite of Tony, near Pete’s head. The rest of the group were scattered in the room. Bruce was checking over the wizard, Clint was whispering something to Laura, and Natasha leaned against the wall by the window that looked into the garden. The silence hurt Tony’s ears. 

Peter’s eyes flew open after Michelle spoke to him, and Tony felt frozen as he watched him struggle to tamp down his panic. 

“Pete, breathe.” Was that his voice? It sounded way too calm to be his voice. His body felt like a storm, and if someone pressed, he could have rivaled Thor for all the lightning that felt to be shooting through his veins. 

Peter seemed to tense at Tony’s words, and the room watched as his breaths grew faster and out of control. He looked like a wild animal as he scooted back against the headboard. Tony was frozen. Michelle crawled into the bed next to him. She pulled him close and leaned his head on her chest as she breathed exaggeratedly, in order to get him to copy her. Tony was frozen. He distantly heard the others step out of the room, Natasha asking Morgan if she wanted a story before going to bed, and Bruce patting Tony’s back while throwing a sharp look at Jim. He felt Rhodey’s arm around him, tugging him gently. Peter’s breaths were evening out and his body had slumped into Michelle’s, exhausted. Tony was frozen. 

"Give them a minute, Tones. Let’s get you something to eat and you can come back.” 

“Like hell, Rhodey. I’m not moving.” But he let himself be guided out the door, as Ned followed. 

“I’m, uh, going to go get some dinner too?” He asked as if he wasn’t quite sure what time it was. 

(1 AM, Christmas morning, apparently, according to Friday, he missed a whole day, he needed to get the gifts out, and prep for Santa, and hug Morgan–did he hug Morgan–and call a therapist and find a hole where they could all hide away and he could lock the door and make sure his children never left again and perhaps magic-proofing it and maybe serve caramel ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top unless that was no longer Peter’s favorite and did Peter still have favorites or did he stop eating ice cream.)  Tony was frozen. 

Rhodey’s hand stayed steady on his back as they went to the kitchen. Ned whispered something to Bruce, who nodded and left. Tony woodenly moved to the kitchen table and sat down, while Rhodey started making them sandwiches. 

Ned sat across from him. “I asked Dr. Banner to move Peter to his room when he fell asleep. He seemed to be drifting when we left. I figured I could bring him some food in a bit, and maybe switch out with MJ.” 

Tony was frozen. 

Rhodey sat some food in front of them both and sat down, rubbing his face and looking more haggard than Tony had ever seen. “Tones, eat that. Ned, how are you feeling?” He looked at the boy concernedly. “You’ve had a long day. Year. Whatever it was.” He seemed flustered by that, and went on, “Are you going to be ok?”

Tony thought Ned would deflect or downplay in answering, but he looked thoughtful and a little embarrassed. “Um. I actually don’t know, Col. Rhodes,” he followed up quickly, looking around, “I mean, I think so, but there’s not really precedent for this kind of thing and, you know…” he finished weakly, waving his hand in the air. Tony did not know, but didn’t like the thought that Ned was still unsure how the side-effects of the Guardian Tree would affect him long-term. 

They fell into an uneasy silence. Natasha and Bruce slipped into the room while they were lost in their own thoughts. Bruce nodded to Ned (Peter must have been moved, then) and Natasha grabbed a chip off of Tony’s plate. 

Tony was frozen. He could feel their eyes on him. 

He stood up suddenly, the chair falling back on the floor. Ned look startled, but the other adults just looked wary. 

“I..I need to make him something, right?” He headed over to the cabinets and began to pull out ingredients. “He’s got to be starving. Maybe pasta? Garlic bread? Honey Bear, do we have gummi worms?” He looked around wildly, “I don’t see the gummi worms. They should be right here. I always buy them. Because he loves them. I always buy them, they should be right here. Because I wouldn’t forget that, would I? I mean, what kind of person would forget that? They’re his favorite. It would be stupid to forget that–I get them all the time. Never without them.” 

Rhodey had stood up during Tony’s legitimate and not at all panicked speech, and put a hand on his arm. Tony looked up to see the room staring at him–Happy had just walked in and made his way over. “Boss, you probably just misplaced them.” Tony was frozen. “I’ll go grab some.” 

“I’ll come with you.” Natasha walked out quickly, trailing behind Happy, seemingly anxious to get out of the room. 

Boss, your heart rate is accelerated past the parameters Platypus set. Would you like me to play calming music or count down from 30? 

Rhodey looked amused at the nickname coming from Friday, and shook his head softly. “It’s alright, Fri. I’ve got him.” He helped Tony grab the macaroni and grate the parmesan. “You need to calm down, Tony. You’re gonna collapse.” 

Tony glared at him and kept moving. He was feeling antsy–like bugs were crawling up and down his back and barely kept himself from screaming in frustration when he dropped a cup of milk on the floor. Bruce was in soft conversation with Ned, who kept throwing him concerned looks. At a certain point, CLint had wandered in and whispered something to Rhodey who nodded his head. 

“Tones, we’re going to get some stuff together for the kids tomorrow,” he looked at his watch and winced, “For later this morning. At least drink some water.” He nodded to the cup of coffee Tony was nursing (was it his 2nd? 4th?). 

“Really don’t appreciate the lecture, Jim.” Tony’s voice was ice, but Rhodey didn’t flinch. Tony figured he was used to dealing with the fuck-up that was him. 

“Chill, Tony. You’re not the only one going through it right now.” He walked out with Clint who gave Tony a small nod. 

Around 2 AM, after Happy returned with the gummi worms, Tony arranged Peter’s plate. As he put it on a tray, Ned walked up to him. “I’ll bring it to them, Mr. Stark.” Tony couldn’t hold back the glare that Ned, of all people, did not deserve, but he was exhausted and strung out and was pretty sure that a little man with a jackhammer had taken permanent residence in his head. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Teddy. He needs to eat.” 

Ned rolled his eyes, and said, “You can’t go in there right now. It’ll just throw him off more. I’ll get MJ and we’ll get you after he eats.” He had the audacity to take the tray from Tony and walk away with his back to him. 

Tony weakly called out, “Make sure he eats it all. You get 30 minutes, then I’m going in there.” Tony grabbed a chair by the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. He rhythmically tugged at his hair until he felt a hand stop him. 

“Stop.” 

Happy’s face was inscrutable. Tony huffed, frustrated, as Happy walked over to wash the dishes. He could tell his hands were shaking slightly, and he had a pinched look on his face. It was silent for a long moment, when Happy spoke up again.

“I punched him.” It was said robotically, and if Tony hadn’t known Harold Hogan so well, he would think there was zero emotion to it. But Tony and Happy were as much brothers as he and Rhodey were, and Tony could pick up on the desperation of the confession. His back was turned to Tony, tense. The water was running and Tony didn’t say anything. 

“He was May’s through and through, but I thought…I thought we were getting there.” 

Tony sighed. “He loves you, Hap.” 

Happy shook his head sharply and Tony heard a glass break in the sink. Happy hissed and grabbed a dish towel. Tony stood up to find the first aid kit they had put on top of the fridge after Tony and Pete’s disastrous attempt at making sushi last year. He grabbed his hand gently and started picking out the glass. 

“This will sting.” Happy sucked in a breath as the antiseptic was sprayed on, and Tony finished bandaging him up. He kept his hand on his arm and waited until Happy looked him in the eyes. 

“We all–all of us–made mistakes. Me most of all. It’s Peter , Hogan. You know he’ll forgive you.”

Happy shook his head and turned to walk out of the room. He looked up at Tony before leaving, word gruff and quiet. “That’s the problem.”

Yeah. That was. Tony huffed and turned to finish the dishes. It was around 3 AM when Michelle and Ned finally walked back into the room. The latter’s eyes were red-rimmed and Michelle was twirling a strand of her hair, one of the only tells she had when she was anxious. Tony hurried over to them, trying to peer into their thoughts, trying to figure out what was happening. He lifted an eyebrow in question and Michelle shook her head slightly. 

“He’s not talking.”

Tony’s sigh was heavy. It wasn’t an unexpected outcome, of course, but not the best case scenario either. If Peter was going to talk right away, it would have been with his friends, but then again, it had only been a few hours. He tried very hard not to spiral, and muted Friday as soon as she chimed in about his damned heart-rate. 

His steps grew heavier as he walked to Peter’s room, and taking a deep breath (he. was. Iron. Man. for. fuck’s. sake), he opened the door. 

Peter was curled up on the bed, eyes closed. Tony knew from his breathing and the way his body tensed that he wasn’t asleep, so he sank into the spot next to him. A few minutes later, he watched as Peter tentatively turned and laid his head on Tony’s shoulder, eyes still closed. Tony tapped his head and began humming the same song he sang to Morgan after her nightmares. 

He felt Peter fall asleep. Getting out his phone, he texted Friday to change the lights and closed his eyes as well. 

Nightmares are strange things. Sometimes, when a body feels safe (or a mind is put to ease), daytime traumas process softly and disappear into peace and sheep. Other times, despite how safe someone feels, the body and brain conspire to elevate everything horrible and terrifying and deadly in the world, warping it all into some fun house of nighttime horrors. 

Tony was not surprised to find Peter thrashing and sweating after just four hours of sleep. His moans cut into Tony’s very bones and he scrambled to wake him. 

“Tesoro. Peter. Sweetheart, you need to wake up.” It was a litany of soft and adoring words that Peter deserved but Tony felt absolutely unqualified to give after eleven months of leaving him all alone. But Peter had always been Tony’s weak spot, and no matter how much pain and suffering Tony deserved, he could never keep himself away from binging the miracle that was his son. 

“Pete. Please. You’re okay.”

Peter’s eyes opened wildly and he looked around. He stilled when he realized Tony was rubbing circles on his back, and Tony could feel his body tense at the contact. It was such a different vibe than the few hours before that Tony almost thought they were back in that dream world, stuck on the cliff. 

Quickly, Peter got out of bed, avoiding Tony’s eyes. His movements were stilted and unsure as Tony watched him walk over to the large window seat overlooking the backyard, and curl into himself. Tony hesitated, for only a moment, before walking over and sitting across from him. He gently pulled his chin up to make eye contact. He watched as Peter’s eyes filled with tears, while furiously trying to wipe them away. 

“Nope. Not going to allow that. You have nothing to be ashamed about, kid.” Peter scoffed and picked at his nails. His cuticles were caked in dried blood. Tony got up and wet a washcloth from the bathroom. He brought it back and gently wiped each one. Peter was trembling under Tony’s touch, and even though he wanted to wrap his arms around him, he could tell that it wouldn’t be well-received at the moment. 

“Peter…I.” Tony hesitated and Peter looked at him blankly. “I…I can’t take back everything that happened. I can only spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.” Peter didn’t say anything, but Tony watched as he began to scratch his arms. Tony took his hands. “I don’t think there is anything I am sorrier for than the way I failed you.” 

He was shaken off by the nineteen-year-old abruptly, who began pacing the room. 

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking, Pete? Please.” Tony tried to choke down a sob, but his own emotional reservoir was emptying quickly. He watched as Peter stopped pacing, choosing to turn his head instead to look at Tony. The look was an impossible mix of incredulousness, anger, sadness, and confusion. He shook his head as if trying to get rid of a passing thought, and walked over to the door. 

At first, Tony thought he was going to kick him out (and boy if he didn’t deserve it, but he was selfish and Peter was a weak spot and Peter was a miracle and Tony was frozen), but when Pete opened the door, a blur raced past him and jumped onto his bed. 

Morgan’s eyes were wide and happy. She was practically vibrating and her pajamas looked wrinkled and were covered in powdered sugar. Peter’s lips quirked upwards for a second and he shared the briefest look with Tony before turning away. 

“PETEY! It’s Christmas! I got my brother back and we have gifts and Uncle Happy helped me put sugar on the donuts and we’ve waited for you long enough, LET’S GO.” 

“Maguna, it’s 7. Don’t you want to sleep a little longer?”

“No, Dad. It’s Christmas.” The whine was in good spirits.

Peter looked wary as Morgan began dragging him. 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Tony hurried to stop them. Gently, he took Peter’s arm and guided him to the wheelchair. Peter huffed, but Tony pointed to the bandages on his head and gave him a look. 

“C’mon, Pete! Uncle Clint bet Uncle Bruce that he wouldn’t dress up as Santa Claus and Uncle Bruce flipped him the bird and said he wasn’t anyone’s circus act, but then he came back in full costume and it’s hilarious because the red suit clashes with his green skin and Uncle Clint burst out laughing and called him the Grinch, and then Uncle Bruce threatened to sit on him.” 

Tony watched as Peter’s smile grew the smallest amount, and pushed him towards their largest living area. As they made their way to the group, Tony could hear Rhodey playing the piano and Clint’s kids unwrapping gifts. He was thankful for his family, for friends who would stay up multiple nights to save one kid and make the other one a holiday to remember. 

“Sit here, I got all your gifts together. We totally ordered these on sale last year,” (Happy’s mortified Morgan! rang out over Rhodey’s second round of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”), “Oh! And she didn’t get a chance to wrap  it, but I found this in Dad’s room and I think she made it for you.” 

Tony watched as Morgan handed Peter a familiar quilted blanket with alternating red and blue squares. In each square, a word was embroidered. Tony leaned over to look as Peter held it, his hands shaking. Words like “ strong” and “ kind ” and “ worthy ” lept out. Pepper had taken up quilting after Thanos, and Tony remembered how she worked on this every night for three weeks after Peter came home from Europe. She was  going to give it to him last Christmas, but they were all forced to go to a safe house the week before due to the growing outrage surrounding Peter’s identity. The Malibu house had been a liability at the time, so it sat under their bed, unwrapped and waiting. 

Tony was thrown out of his memories with a tearing sound and a surprised gasp from Morgan. The room was quiet. Peter was clutching the quilt tightly, seemingly in his own flashback, and it looked as if he had torn it in half. Tony wasn’t sure he was even aware of what he was doing. Happy had walked up quickly and was attempting to pull the quilt out of Peter’s hands. 

Morgan stepped back and Tony stood up, aware of a storm brewing that he had no control over. 

“Mo…” Tony reached for her, but she jumped back again, shaking. Her eyes were filling with tears and she was staring at Peter with a dark look on her face. 

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?” 

“Morgan.” 

“I have been so nice to you. Why are you so horrible?”

“Morgs.” Michelle’s voice carried across the room. 

“It’s all about you and you don’t even care. You don’t care about anything.” She sneered at him and Tony stepped back, surprised to see such a hostile face on her. “You’re such a bad brother–I don’t know why I even wanted you back. I HATE you.”

She ran out of the room, and Tony looked on as Rhodey and Natasha followed her. Ned was kneeling in front of Peter, whispering to him as he stared straight ahead. 

The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled. 

Tony was frozen.