I Don't Feel So Good

POV: Tony Stark

I slowly turn to face Peter, a pit forming in my stomach when I see him.
“I don’t feel so good.” He says weakly as he slowly starts to fade away into dust.
Nebula looks between Peter and I, her face confirming what I already know.
“You’re alright.” I choke out as he steps towards me.
I reach out, my hands grasping for Peter’s small body as he looks at me with wide, terrified eyes.
“I—I don’t know what’s happening.” He stammers as he stumbles towards me, crashing into me and holding onto me for dear life.
I hold him back as tightly as I can, knowing it’s not enough.
Knowing it won’t be enough to keep him here.
“I don’t want to go.” He says into my shirt, his voice thick with tears. “I don’t want to go.”
The hysteria in his voice rises as the particles of his body float away.
“Mr. Stark please I don’t want to go.” He begs me as his legs begin to give out.
I keep him held tightly against my chest, not wanting to leave any part of his fragile body exposed as I help him lay down against the rocks.
I press my hand against his chest as I lean him down, looking at his face that’s already too many shades too pale.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, looking up at me as tears streak down his cheeks.
My hand reaches down to wipe them away, but I’m too late.
His face disappears from view, blowing away as the dust floats away on the wind.
This is all my fault.
I let him down.
I killed Peter.

“Tony—Tony wake up.” Cold hands press against my face as the voice draws me from sleep.
My eyes snap open, and I meet Stephen’s gaze as I take a gasping breath in.
The sheets around me are damp with sweat, and so is my grey t-shirt.
His shaky fingers brush against my forehead, pushing my hair back softly.
“It’s alright.” He whispers, pulling me closer. “It’s over.”
The familiar pain in my chest burns through me.
That’s the problem isn’t it?
It’s over.
Half of the world is gone.
Half of our friends, my family, are gone.
And Peter is gone.
I was lucky enough to get off Titan with Stephen and Nebula.
But it should’ve been him who came home, not me.
He was so young.
And if I hadn’t dragged him into my world, dragged him into joining the Avengers, he wouldn’t have been there with us in the first place.
“Tony.” Stephen says softly, his fingers smoothing the wrinkles between my eyes.
I shift in the bed, turning to wrap my arms around him.
“Don’t leave me.” I whisper, my voice cracking as I swallow down tears.
He rubs my back softly as he hugs me tightly.
“Never.” He whispers back, his lips pressing against my hair softly.
His breathing evens out as he slips back into his dreamless sleep.
I envy him.
He didn’t know any of them well enough to feel this horrible sentiment I feel for them, at the loss of all of them.
But he saw millions of futures after the snap, and he’s certain that we’ll get Peter back.
He’s certain that we’ll get them all back.
It’s just a matter of figuring out how.
I lay against his body for hours as he sleeps, unable to stop my mind from spinning.
Since the moment Peter disappeared, I’ve played through situations in my head to work through any possibility of getting him back.
Every spare minute, I spiral.
I work through thousands of equations, trying to unravel anything I know about time or space or anything that could undo this.
Nothing ever works through to the end.
Eventually I get too restless lying in bed, gently sliding out to avoid waking Stephen.
I stand at the end of the bed for a moment, smiling softly at his gentle sleeping face.
He’s been good for me.
We didn’t get along so well when we first met, but when we got back to Earth, he came back to the Avenger’s headquarters with me.
And then he just never left.
He walked me through meditation when the panic attacks would threaten to take me under.
His presence is calming and secure.
Somehow he always knew when I would have the nightmares, coming from his bedroom to mine to wake me, to calm me again and again.
I got used to his strong arms wrapping around me as he woke me from the dreams, and eventually he just stopped going back to the spare bedroom, following me to my bed every evening and pulling me close as we fell asleep.
It just seemed natural when his soft bowed lips began to meet mine every night before I fell asleep, and again each morning when I woke up.
I walk to his side of the bed, kissing his forehead lightly before I leave, silently thanking him for all he’s done.
The house is quiet, dark.
It’s a little past 4am, everyone who would be here normally is home or asleep.
I pour a glass of brandy, swishing it absently as I walk down to my lab.
“Can I assist you Mr. Stark?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks, powering on as I step into the room without turning on the lights.
“No.” I answer quietly. “You can go back into sleep mode.”
“Yes sir.” She answers, powering down again.
I sit at my desk, tapping the screens to life as I drink the brandy, feeling the familiar warmth as it bleeds down my throat.
My fingers work subconsciously, clicking through files until I get to the Stark Internship files from 2016.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop now.
I click on the submission towards the bottom of the list.
Peter Benjamin Parker- Midtown School of Science and Technology.
His face pops onto the screen, younger than the last time I saw him.
He must’ve been 14 or 15 when he applied.

“Hi Mr. Stark um my name is Peter Parker and I am applying for the Stark Internship.” His voice is high from adolescence as it starts to pour from the speakers. “I—I know it’s a longshot, and if you don’t want to choose me I totally understand but I would be a really hard worker and I would love to learn from you if I could. If you call me… or send me a message or something I would be really happy—is that lame?”

His aunt laughs from behind the camera, shaking it slightly.

“No Peter it’s not lame, it’s cute!” She whispers loudly. “Keep going!”

His face flushes with embarrassment.

“May! We can’t submit it like that!” He exclaims, covering his face with his hands.

The video goes black.
I wonder if they meant to submit a different file, clicking this one instead on accident.
Or maybe they ran out of time before the deadline, and just submitted this as their last resort.
I leave the thumbnail open on that screen, his smiling face as he holds up an A+ paper.
I pull up another screen as I take a long drink from my glass, knowing what I’m doing to myself as I click on my messages.

“Hey Mr. Stark!” Peter calls, wind whooshing through the speakers as he leaves a message for my machine. “I just wanted to tell you something, call me back later maybe. Bye!”

What was I doing when he called that time?
What did he want to say?
I click another.

“Mr. Stark, do you think maybe if I were to run really fast I could run across water?” He asks, his breathing quick as he talks. There’s an odd pause in the message before his voice comes back into the speakers. “Um… never mind... Thanks for making the suit waterproof.”

I laugh despite the pain in my chest, taking the last numbing drink of alcohol to wash it down.
My fingers shake slightly as I click another message.

“Hey Mr. Stark, it’s me, Peter… uh, again.” He says awkwardly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I understand that you are really busy and all, but… well could you call me back when you get this message? I could use your help with something. Um, yeah, bye.”

Hot tears drip down my cheeks as his voice fades out.
What did he need my help with?
Why haven’t I heard this message before?
And why the hell didn’t I answer?
Red hot anger fills me.
Anger at Thanos for what he did to my family.
Anger at Peter for being so small, so innocent, so easy to lose.
But mostly anger at myself for not spending time with him when I had the chance.
For not being able to save him.
For not knowing what to do now.
I pick up my glass, sending it shattering against the concrete wall across from me.
“Sorry kid.” I choke out, whispering to the darkness.
I cover my face with my hands as the tears flow freely.
Gentle hands wrap around my shoulders, squeezing lightly.
“Tony.” Stephen says softly.
I drop my hands, spinning in my chair and burying my face in his soft shirt.
His hands trace against my back softly as I cry.
“We’re going to get him back.” He whispers. “We’re going to get them all back.”
I just nod.
“I swear.” He tells me as he leans back, his fingers gently pulling up my chin to look at him. “I’ve been looking Tony, through every possibility there is to find them, okay?”
He looks down at me, his eyes filled with passion.
“I believe you.” I say softly, forcing a tight smile.
His eyes flit to the screen beside me, still frozen on Peter’s smiling face.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He says as his fingers gently trace along my cheekbone. “You did all that you could.”
A fresh batch of tears spills over as those last moments with flash before my eyes again, as they so often do.
Stephen’s shaky hands wipe the tears away gently, patiently as always.
“Breathe.” He whispers, taking an exaggerated breath to show me how he means.
I follow suit, letting him calm me.
“Let’s go back upstairs, alright?” He asks.
I nod, looking at the screen one more time before I shut it down.
Stephen pulls me up, hugging me tightly as he portals us back to the bedroom.
He leads me to the bed, laying down beside me as I curl up around him.
“Sleep.” He whispers, kissing my forehead lightly. “No one’s going anywhere, and we can work when you wake up.”
I twist, stretching up to kiss his lips softly.
“Thank you.” I whisper. “You know, I kinda love you.”
He laughs gently.
“I kinda love you too.” He whispers back, hugging me closer.
His arms are safe and secure, not slipping away to dust as he holds onto me, and I slowly drift into a dreamless sleep.