Left Behind

One month later

From the moment Peter stepped into his tower, there was a then and now. The ‘then’ was nothing but grey skies and beer, a slip in the long road of a once proposed recovery. A road he never thought he would see the end point of. Especially not now. He’s lost so much- but… maybe he’ll get there from something he’s gained. And that? That’s the after. That’s the sunshine and roses that’s Peter Parker. Peter, who’s consistently optimistic in the face of tragedy. He must think the world’s issues are cured by a smile. It’s naïve, of course, as the world’s a lot deeper than that. It’s flawed, yet- Peter’s seen all the woes it has to offer- and he still decides to stand tall and see the best in everyone. It’s that which Tony idolises, it’s what he wishes he could be. But he never will be. So, that’s why he’s decided to keep the kid as his second. It’s like having a personal cheerleader sleeping in the room beside you… and even if Tony was once reluctant of that idea, the kid’s grown on him.

Waking up in the morning is a hell of a task when there’s an anchor lying on your chest, pressing down so hard that you can’t breathe. It’s a struggle to lift your head, to even open your eyes when there’s such a weight pushing down on you. Again. And again. A constant cyclical pattern of pain and suffering- and what’s that noise?

The door to Tony’s bedroom opens, light filtering in like a wave. “Mr Stark?” a young voice announces. “I brought you breakfast. I thought you might be hungry.”

Tony doesn’t move.

“Well, uh, I’ll leave it here. Sorry if I woke you up- or if I’ve made your room stink from the food,” Peter says, his voice as innocent as the day before.

The door closes once more, the light left completely alone. It’s as if nobody was there at all.

Tony finally manages to push himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress as he asks Friday to switch the lights on. He takes a sip of the glass of water that’s now a common feature because of Peter, throwing on a t-shirt from the floor. It’s not clean, but- hey- it’s progress for an alcoholic like himself. He tugs up his sweatpants, wondering over to where Pete’s left the food. He chuckles involuntarily once he sees the mess on the plate. He’s made the eggs into a pair of eyes and the slice of bacon into something trying to resemble a smile. It’s the thought that counts, hey?

He eats it in a few minutes, leaving nothing but an empty plate. Picking it up afterwards, he takes the long walk towards the kitchen to clean it up. Once he’s there, he sees Peter sitting on the breakfast bar doodling over some paper. When Tony gets closer, it’s not a doodle at all but some overly complicated equations that remind the billionaire of long forgotten college days.

“You didn’t carry the one there,” Tony tells him, pointing at a mistake with a breadstick he’s stolen from the cupboard. “That’s probably why the end’s wrong,” he shrugs, eating the rest of the snack that he’s just picked up.

“Oh!” Peter grins, “Thanks, Mr Stark! I swear- I would’ve been pulling my hair out if you hadn’t said anything.”

“Yeah, that’s alright,” Tonty answers, reaching forward to give him an awkward ruffle of his hair that lasts for a period of two seconds before he regrets it. “Uh, thanks for the breakfast. Haven’t had a spread like that since I was about five years old.”

Peter laughs to himself, shaking his head gently. He twists himself around on the chair, hopping down to face Tony. “My aunt May’s speciality. She couldn’t do much more, you know… she wasn’t blessed in the art of cooking. But she tried. And that’s why I loved it.”

“Well, uh, I’m glad you could pass on the tradition, bud.”

Tony reaches behind the kid’s back, grabbing the piece of paper that Peter had been working on. He reads it over as Peter automatically makes his way to the sink to start cleaning the plate the man had just used. It’s good stuff, great even, but it won’t work. He’s proposing time travel here- a machine that’ll go back to the beginning of all this mess to try and undo it. They can’t make a miraculous fix- he knows, he tried. Back when it first happened.

The snap… a few days later

Tony was in the lab, dressed only in days-old boxers and a ripped tank top dripped head to toe in oil from the machine he’s been under for hours. He’s trying to find parts- trying to find any inclination of a device that could take him back. If only a few days, just something that will put him face to face with the titan that took everything from him in only a snap of a finger.

DUM-E’s consistent beeps drive him wild, and he’s half tempted to throw it into the crowd of people screaming below him. The lights flicker, going off completely when Tony gives up and puts the spanner down. He lies there for hours, doing nothing but blinking. If someone were to walk in, he’d look more dead than alive.

He forgets what he was doing, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. By the time he’s back to consciousness, his mind waking up, he’s in a room that’s become way too familiar. The cellar. It started well enough. A shot of vodka. A glass of scotch. A bottle of wine. It kept escalating- up and up until he became a slobbering mess- a man from the past suddenly in the present. A person he tried so hard to shove into a cell and throw away the key- but it didn’t work.

It’s that moment that broke him. The lab was locked away because there’s no point in even opening the doors anymore when everything inside it is useless. He’d try some days- thinking ‘this is it, I can do this if I just put away the bottles’ but a lot like an old ex you just can’t say goodbye to- he kept coming back to the familiar warmth of a liquid he thought he’d never have again.

It was because of his addiction that the accords were put aside (well, the team put it away- general Ross? Not so much), and why Steve and his team came back in the first place. When it was all over the news that Tony Stark got in a bender, flying the suit around whilst drunk out of his mind, ‘team Cap’ turned up at his door the next day. Rhodey was the one to greet them- arguing for hours before finally stepping aside and letting them see Tony. It was an emotional day. A lot of people cried… but Tony had nothing left in him to care.

Now… Every drop was a mistake. Every single sip was a big ‘fuck you’ to the friends he lost, that helped him through this before. When he was sweating and crying on the sofa, wanting nothing more but a chance to have a bottle on hand again, they were the ones to stop him. Steve would kneel beside him, a comforting hand on his shoulder as Rhodey sat behind with water to keep him hydrated. The whole team came together to pull him through an addiction, and he should’ve kept going in their memory. But he’s nothing but a weak man- and only a few days after they left- he was back to old habits.

After realising that this was his life, he started to shut himself in. Old workers that survived tried to get into the labs to see if he was still alive were turned away by Friday- and security measures he put in place as a joke in case of a zombie apocalypse were activated. But when people stopped coming, those walls came down. Nobody cared anymore, and he knew they wouldn’t come back- so, for the sake of his own sanity and ease to get out for a shop, they were wide open. Those physical walls dropped- but the walls around his heart that Tony put up were very much still there.

The anarchy of the streets should’ve been issue to him. Iron Man should’ve been there- stopping the constant fires or the robberies. Murders were a common issue these days. Tony didn’t have to watch a film to see the purge; he could just look outside his bedroom window. And he should’ve cared, but he didn’t. He really didn’t give a crap if the city collapsed around him, because there was no reason to get out of bed. What was he fighting for? People? Well, he’s done enough of that and what did they give back to him? Nothing.

Back to present day

“Mr Stark? You zoned of,” Peter says, throwing an apple at the side of Tony’s leg (he would’ve aimed for the head, but he’s not evil), “It’s like you were in the middle of a flashback or something. Are you okay? Does it look like my work will… work?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Pete.”

“…Yeah, I’ve been told that before.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Yeah. I guess. Are you going to answer them?”

Tony looks over, scandalised. “Peter,” he gasps. “I have never heard words like that coming from your mouth. Who knew you could be so sassy? I’m shocked. Here I thought you were my- or- uh- this ray of sunshine- and this entire time you were like this? Who knew?”

“Mr Stark,” Peter whines, with a smile spread over his face as he nudges Tony shoulder. “Just answer me!”

“No, bud,” Tony sighs. “It’s good, but I don’t think it’ll work.”

Peter’s clearly affected by the news, his body slumping up against the wall. He looks ashamed- as if he hasn’t done enough. He wants to be the person that corrects this mess- a mess he never started. And since the moment he arrived, he was certain it would be easy. It would be done in a week and then they could move on with their lives like nothing ever happened. And Tony would love for that to be true, but it’s just not. And he hates to be the bearer of bad news.

“Hey, uh, kid- it’s not your fault, you know. This work that you’ve done… it’s brilliant. I never would’ve expected someone- nevermind of your age- to make something like this. I just don’t think we’re going to get them back by making a time machine. Real life is nothing like back to the future… unfortunately.”

Peter nods solemnly. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Mr Stark. I’ll just be… in my bedroom.”

Peter turns around to walk away, head hung low like he’s done something wrong. Tony watches him go, not knowing what to say to make it better. He’s never been someone who can pull a speech out of his head like it’s nothing. He could never bring the morale up whenever they failed on a mission. When citizens became collateral damage, their lives over because of some messed-up shit that one of them could’ve stopped, it hit them all like a tonne of bricks. But, every single time, Steve would sit them down and remind them of every good thing they did that day. Tony never knew how he did it.

Tony would always turn to some stupid coping mechanism. He’d sit by himself on his balcony, staring at the sun as it set. He’d ignore everyone. Pepper, Rhodey, the team- he’d even ignore himself. Hungry, tired, and cold, he’d stay there. Because how dare he look after himself when hundreds of people had to mourn their loved ones because they didn’t save them? Why was it right that they saved that kid, or that man- and they didn’t save the others? It wasn’t that they were worth more… they just couldn’t get there in time.

And that’s how he feels with the fifty percent of life lost because of Thanos. He shouldn’t be here when Steve, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey, Pepper, and everyone else left. It wasn’t fair that he survived. And since then, it’s been hours of those coping mechanisms. And he never knew what to do.

But Peter? Peter was just like Steve. He stayed good. And he kept trying after every failure. But now he looks like Tony- like he can’t do this anymore. He’s exhausted. Tony doesn’t like that look on him one bit. Because that’s not who he is. That’s not the kid he’s starting to adore- he’s stronger, better- and he will change the world because that’s just who he is. Whether the world is complete or forever halved, Peter will be amazing.

“Pete,” Tony shouts, hoping he hears it from the corridor.

The young boy turns, walking back into the kitchen. “Yes?”

“Well, uh- I was just going to my lab to see if there was any other idea that I could think of. But, you know, I think DUM-E loves you- and he’d be terribly upset if I didn’t have my lab partner with me. So, uh, you could come with me. Otherwise, the robot would start crying and I can’t have that. It’s just an unpleasant work environment.”

“If you just want me there, you could just say. You know that, right?”

“I’m telling you, kid. It’s DUM-E. Nothing to do with me. I could work there just fine by myself.”

“Okay, Mr Stark. I’ll come,” Peter smiles, back to himself. “But for DUM-E only. Of course.”

“Of course,” Tony winks. “Now come on! Whoever’s there last has to wash the dishes after dinner.”

The research is tedious. It always is. It’s been like that forever, but Tony knows that it feels worse because it’s so important that they get this right. They slave away over books and machines for hours on end.

Tony’s reading one book on the mystic arts, randomly, when he comes across a spell. A spell that only Doctor Strange could perform. And, luckily enough, the man was across the country trying to get part of the world back on its feet (and failing, since the last time he heard about it). But he doesn’t tell Peter that he might have an idea, because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He’ll just have to visit the man by himself when the kid’s on a patrol or in bed. If this is the way to go- then who knows? It would be a delightful surprise.

Peter’s sat up on the windowsill looking out as the sun finally sets on them. He has a woeful, far away, look on his face as he settles his chin on his hand. It’s straight out of a teen movie… not that Tony’s surprised. A teen movie/apocalypse action- now what a piece of cinema that would be. Maybe he’d commission someone to write it for the kid’s birthday after this is all over.

“It’s crazy out there,” he says, noticing Tony watching him. “I-I was so scared. Every night that I’d fall asleep… I’d just wonder if my next day would be my last. I had to swing up to the tallest building in town to sleep on its roof. I started to think that maybe I should hang up the mask. The world isn’t bothering to try, why should I? But I’d just close my eyes and imagine a warm hug from May, and all those negative thoughts would be long gone. I really hope this isn’t some fantasy, Mr Stark. I-I just want her back.”

Peter’s whole body was shivering as he starts to cry. He’s a mess- shaking from head to toe. He’s sobbing so hard that Tony’s not sure if he’s breathing. All the billionaire does is freeze. He has no idea how to help… or what to do.

Tony walks over, putting his hand on the kid’s cheek as he moves his head until they meet eyes. He squeezes it gently, “It’s okay,” he says. It’s simple, but he hopes it’ll do the trick. “It’s all going to be just fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t,” Tony whispers. “But…what is it that you always say? …Hm, oh! That’s right. We can always try our hardest. No matter what. We just need to keep up with what we’ve been doing. Keep trying. And if we lose? We do it together.”

“You mean it?”

“Course I do,” Tony smiles. “I’m not a liar, kid.”

Peter looks up at him, a stupid, big, smile over his face. He’s still crying, remembering what he’s been through in the last few months. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he jumps down and grabs a tool he’s been working with. “Let’s get back to work then.”

Tony watches him, sighing. He walks over, grabbing the tool and putting it on the table beside them. Peter seems confused, watching him with a worried look on his face. “Mr Stark? What are you doing?”

“Come here, Pete,” he says, as if he’s hesitating. He puts his arms out, waiting for Peter to clock what’s going on.

Rushing forward, Peter throws his arms around Tony and cuddles in tight. There’s so much he’s taken for granted in the past. Just having someone you love in your arms, their familiar warmth immediately settling your heart. It’s a feeling they’ve both missed so terribly (Peter a little more than Tony). Tony gently pulls the kid a little closer, putting his arms around his body. He settles his head on top of Peter’s, as the boy closes his eyes and relaxes against the faint glow of Tony’s arc reactor.

It’s a little like coming home. It’s a soft, big, bear hug and neither of them want to let go. Peter can smell the scent of Tony’s aftershave (or lack of), and Tony feels comfort in the way Peter’s settles so easily. Swaying back and forth for a while, Tony looks down and pulls his head back just a little. He leans forward to press a kiss on top of Peter’s head, just by his hairline.

They make eye contact, the elder smiling as he sees Peter’s eyes light up. “I’m telling you, kid. It’s going to be fine. I’ll make sure that it is.”

“Thank you,” Peter smiles, “but can I just ask you a question now? Are we there now?”

Tony laughs, stepping back and playfully pushing Peter. “You sure know how to push my buttons sometimes. I was trying to be nice and you’re cracking these jokes.”

“But, seriously, Mr Stark… thank you.”

Tony puts his arm around Peter’s shoulder, “Now, lets get out of here. You need to eat- or, well, we do. We can’t be in the lab all day every day. Pepper would kill me if she was here, especially because I have a kid with me. She’d tell me I was irresponsible. That, even if the kid’s like a son to you- you can’t disobey child labour laws. And then she’d give me a kiss and apologise. But I’d tell her that she’s right and we’d sit in bed all evening…”

It’s the first time he’s spoken of Pepper since the snap. It’s the first time he’s thought about how she’d be with the kid. She’d love him. He makes impressions like that. Well, Tony can assume only on his behalf. Peter, on the other hand, would be overjoyed to meet her and the rest of the Avengers. He did seem like a little fanboy when they first met now that he thinks back.

Tony looks at Peter quizzingly after coming back from his thoughts. Why is Peter looking at him with glossy eyes again…? He has no idea.

“You said I was like your son.”

“No… I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“I didn’t. I’d remember saying something like that.”

“No, you did. Mr Stark, I remember it as clear as day. ‘Even if the kid’s like a son to you- you can’t disobey child labour laws’. That’s exactly what you said.”

“There’s no proof.”

Peter gets Tony’s arm off him as they get into the kitchen/dining room. He stands by the table, his hand resting on the head of it. The chair is the comfiest there. It’s the one that wasn’t used as much when the team lived here. Perfect cushioning, woodwork with no scratches and it slots in exactly right where the table dips at the end. It’s the only one of it’s kind- and it’s worth the competition they have over it.

Over the last few days, they’d been making bets over who gets it. Today’s was whether or not Tony called Peter ‘a son’.

“Friday?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Young Peter is right.”

“…You probably hacked into her,” Tony says underneath his breath. Looking over at Peter as he gently pulls the chair out, he chuckles to himself with a shake of his head. “You’re evil, Peter Parker. Evil.”

“Sorry, Dad, but I have learnt from the best.”

Tony’s heart skips a little. He bites his lip, turning around so Peter can’t see how much a little word affected him. And why did it? It was just a joke. And Tony doesn’t want to be a dad. No, definitely not. It’s not like he would’ve met Peter normally and thought ‘oh, he makes me want to be a dad’. And he definitely wouldn’t have gone to Pepper and asked her very nicely if that was in the cards.

“Mr Stark?”

“Oh, uh, lets go and make dinner. It’s getting late... and if you still want to patrol, we’ll have to eat soon.” He says, moving on from their conversation before he gets too emotional.

“I don’t think I’ll do a patrol tonight,” Peter announces, getting up to follow Tony into the kitchen. “Thought we could just watch a film.”

“Sounds good, bud.”

And they do just that. Sitting together on the dining table, Peter in the best chair and Tony in an inferior one, they eat their dinner in a comforting silence. Once that’s done, they clean up together (although it should be Tony’s job, as Peter got to the lab first that day- but Peter thinks he’s done enough… so he helps).

Ending up on the comfiest sofas that Peter’s ever had the privilege to sit on, they watch ‘back to the future’. A little bit for inspiration, and the other because Peter had to shamefully admit earlier that he hadn’t actually seen it from start to finish. As it ends, they put on another but after only ten minutes- Peter’s out like a light with his head resting on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony carefully manoeuvres around the boy, resting his head down on a pillow instead of his own shoulder. Grabbing the blanket, he drapes it over the boy’s body and watches as he fidgets around until he’s comfortable. “Night, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers.

On his way to his own bedroom, Tony passes the cellar. He looks inside it, before remembering the feeling of having his kid- no, wait- having the kid in his arms. He closes his eyes and remembers it- over and over again until the idea of a drink is thrown out. It allows him to simply step backwards and slam the door- because how can a bottle of liquid be more important? Yet, there’s still an ache. He still wants to go and grab a sip… but he can’t. He can’t disappoint Peter, and he’s not sure why.

It’s in his bedroom that he finally picks up his phone. He puts it on charge, as it’s been so long that it’s died. When it turns out, he has to pretend not to see the old messages he got days or even hours before the snap happened. It’s the new ones he’s interested in. There’s a text from this morning.

It’s from Strange…

‘That book you’ve found… it’s important. Come and see me- without the kid- when you feel ready. I’ll be waiting.’ And just after it, he says ‘I’m sorry for not checking up. I meant to- but I’ve been a little busy. Take care, Stark’.

Always cryptic, Tony thinks.

He decides he’s not ready just yet. He jumps into bed and closes his eyes- thankful that he won’t wake up in the morning with a hangover. All because of a kid. And for the first time in forever, he feels hopeful. Lets just hope it lasts.