Chapter 3
Tony Stark did not want to wake up.
Preferably, he would stay asleep forever. Preferably, he would never wake up. The most painless, most preferable, but maybe not the most plausible possibility of him passing away while he was asleep would be Sudden Death Syndrome, but he wasn’t picky. Plausibly but not preferably, his heart would give out; finally succumbing to the many complications due to heart surgeries and having cold metal pressed against it for so many years.
But although it was not preferable, it was very plausible that Tony Stark would continue to wake up.
The light filtered through Tony’s eyelids, forcing him to admit that yes, he was conscious. He wearily opened his eyes, wanting nothing to do with today. It was cold. It was winter. He just wanted to stay in bed and hopefully coax his body into shutting back down and getting back to sleep.
But even though he specifically had this day always free from meetings and other burdens, Rhodey always showed up to make sure he was okay. And he was, always, okay. But unfortunately, he had to prove he was fine to Rhodey, and that would mean getting out of bed and making something to eat and continue like everything was normal.
Pepper would take care of him in the mornings, then rush off to work. Rhodey would take care of him in the afternoon, extending into evenings, spending the entire morning on the road to get there. Tony, every year, told them both that they didn’t have to take time off or shout their way through traffic, especially considering it was winter and icy outside, but they both showed up nonetheless.
Because today was December sixteenth, and no matter how much time had passed, Tony still felt miserable.
He knew it would be particularly worse this year, considering that this was the first year knowing that his parents weren’t just dead, they were murdered. By his friend’s best mate. And Rogers had known. He had known, and thought that by not telling, he was protecting Tony.
“Fuck off,” Tony snarled at his thoughts, finally throwing off the covers.
“What’s that?” a voice said.
Tony jumped. “Jesus, Pep,” he said, rubbing his chest where the arc reactor used to be. “You’re going to scare me into a heart attack one day.”
“Who were you telling to ‘eff off’?” Pepper asked, standing up from her spot in the chair beside the bed.
“The blankets. Since, you know, they were on my legs,” Tony tried, blatantly lying. “And I wanted them off my legs. So I told them to fuck off,” he elaborated uselessly.
“Uh huh,” Pepper nodded, raising an eyebrow but smiling all the same. “You have something against the blankets?”
“Yes. Buy new ones. Ones that listen to me when I tell them to leave,” Tony said.
“I’ll put in an order,” she smiled, playing along.
“Anyway, why are you here? Don’t you have a super-important meeting like you do every morning?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
“You know why I’m here,” she answered, her voice growing softer.
“I know. And you don’t have to be,” he said, like he did every year. “I’m a big boy now. I’m better.”
“So you won’t go around throwing yourself aimlessly into your work until you set off an explosion and wind up in a hospital?” Pepper raised an eyebrow.
“That was one year,” he argued back, after a pause. “And it was only because-”
“-because you were trying to make something explode, because you wanted to test how much your armour could withstand explosions.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s not reassuring, Tony.”
He sighed, rubbing his temples. He couldn’t stand December sixteenth. Every single year there was a different story to tell, most of which involved hospitals or drinks. Every single year Pepper and Rhodey try to stop him.
But every year they fail.
“I’ve invited Peter over at one, okay? Rhodey will be a bit busy, and won’t be over until around after that time anyway, so he’ll keep you busy,” she said gently, walking around the bed so that he was facing her.
“No,” Tony said bluntly, standing up and grabbing her by the elbow.
“No?” Pepper asked with the air of a know-it-all.
“No,” Tony repeated. “He can’t. If he sees me like, like that, then he’ll…”
“He’ll what, Tony?”
“He’ll, I don’t know. Tell his friends? Tell the world? Tony Stark is still grieving his long-dead parents, can’t he get over it already,” he spat out sourly, shaking his head. “I thought I told you; after Cap, there’s no more trusting. It’s you, Rhodey, and Happy. No more.”
“Do you really think Peter’s going to tell everyone?” she asked, being reasonable.
“No, but I didn’t think Cap was gonna stick his shield in the arc reactor and leave me to freeze, though.”
Pepper just shook her head sadly. “You’ll be fine,” she took his hand, squeezed it loosely, then let it drop to her side. “I’ve already texted him, anyway.”
“Please, Pep. Not him,” Tony was practically begging her by now. “He’s only a kid, he’s fifteen!”
“I’m making breakfast. Be down in ten, or else you’re not getting coffee,” Pepper ignored him, smiling, then she kissed his forehead. “I love you.”
Tony watched her leave the room, his heart falling as he realized what this day, the worst day of the entire year, had in store for him. Pepper. Peter. Rhodey. When had he let this woman run his life? Why should she tell him what to do? He was a grown man. He could control his own life.
...no, he couldn’t.
Tony Stark was a mess. Tony Stark couldn’t do anything for shit. And as much as he hated to admit it, Tony Stark knew that he needed to let other people in, and if that was the kid, then so be it.
No. Not the kid. Stop.
He sent a quick text to Peter, then got ready for the day.
--
“What does this mean?”
“Dude. The fact that Pepper Potts and Tony Stark both texted you on the same day, that’s confusing on its own,” Ned exclaimed. “Maybe it’s code! They’re inviting you on a mission!”
Peter read over the texts again, not really sure. They were sitting on the floor of his bedroom, a Lego millenium falcon in between them.
Mr Parker,
If it is convenient, please come over to the compound. Mr Stark is in need of company, and unfortunately Colonel Rhodes will not be arriving until later. If you could kindly babysit him until Colonel Rhodes arrives, that would be perfect. Mr Hogan will be picking you up at eleven. If it is inconvenient to you, we completely understand, and please inform Mr Hogan of the cancellation.
If Mr Stark or anybody else contacts you to inform you that all is well and you are not needed at the compound anymore, disregard that message and come over anyway.
Yours,
Pepper Potts.
“She sounds so professional over text,” Ned pointed out. “It’s like she’s sending an email. If I were her, I would be all; ‘hey, come over after lunch.’ and ‘thanks man.’ and ‘if anyone tells you not to come over, don’t listen’. Who has time for proper grammar and spelling?”
“Miss Potts, apparently,” Peter said, switching to a different chat.
Hey kiddo-
Don’t bother coming over to the compound. All’s good here.
Tell you what; you should come over next week. We’ve still got to finish that lightsaber of yours.
T.S.
“So should I come over anyway?” Peter asked. “Do I follow Miss Potts’s orders or Mr Stark’s?”
“As much as we idolize Tony Stark, do you really think he has the most common sense?” Ned asked. “You told me that you worked on one of his protocols that allowed his AI to get help if he was literally dying. The fact that he can’t even recognize when he’s in mortal danger is worrying.”
“I guess you’re right. But what if he gets mad and stops talking to me?” Peter asked. “Like before?”
“Don't worry. Pepper Potts is awesome,” Ned nodded. “I bet she’s scary in real life. Is that weird? I bet she could convince Tony Stark to invite you back just like last time. She seems like that type of woman.”
“What, intimidating?”
“Yes. Like my mom,” Ned grinned, then stopped. “Is it weird that I just compared Pepper Potts to my mom?”
“Probably,” Peter said, putting the last piece on the ship. Ned put the Lego Han Solo in the cockpit, and they did their routine handshake whenever they completed something.
“So you gonna go see Tony Stark or what?” Ned asked, leaning back and admiring their work.
“I mean, if Miss Potts is as scary as your mom..,” Peter joked, and Ned nudged his shoulder.
“C’mon, man,” he laughed. “But seriously, you should go. See what he’s up to. Maybe it really is a secret mission!”
“Nah, it can’t be. I haven’t been on a proper mission since that big fight at the airport,” Peter contemplated. “Why would it change?”
“Maybe Tony Stark is in trouble! Maybe Pepper Potts is sending you on a mission to help him, and he doesn’t want you to get involved, because he wants to protect you! But since she knows better, she asked you to help!” Ned said triumphantly.
“She said that I’m babysitting him. Not rescuing him,” Peter pointed out. “And it’s only until Colonel Rhodes arrives.”
“Maybe she needs you to take over the mission until War Machine arrives!”
“Sure, Ned. I’m off to go save Iron Man with War Machine by my side and a very scary mom-like woman in my ear, giving me instructions in code,” Peter said sarcastically.
“Exactly,” Ned nodded, satisfied. “And the guy in the chair is only a phone call away.”
“Alright. You convinced me. I’ll disobey Mr Stark’s direct order and go see what’s up at the compound,” Peter shook his head, grinning.
“That’s more like it!” Ned punched his shoulder playfully.
“You’re more excited about this than I am,” Peter noticed.
“Yup! Now let’s get onto the most important part of the text; what does he mean by the lightsaber?”
Peter grinned and launched into the story.
--
With Pepper gone, Peter out of the way, and Rhodey not arriving for another hour, Tony was free to do whatever he wanted.
And that included drinking until he blacked out and didn’t remember anything the next day. He was initially going to hold off on the drinking, because he didn’t want Rhodey to be upset, but then he realized he could just get so wasted that he wouldn’t even remember Rhodey getting upset. And then no harm done. Besides, his friend has seen him do worse; such as the ‘nail polish incident’, that they both mutually agreed to never bring up again.
So he sat in his workshop bar, pouring shot after shot of whiskey down his throat. He felt woozy after four, and now he was on the verge of not feeling anything.
And then the door opened.
“Mr Stark?”
No, no, no. No.
“What are you, what are you doing here?” Tony said, composing himself as much as possible. “I told you not to come. Why did you come?”
“Miss Potts told me to ignore you,” Peter said, eyeing Mr Stark weirdly. “Are you okay? Happy told me to be careful while we were driving here.”
“I- fuck, kid,” Tony swore, putting the shot glass down and rubbing his hands on his face. “Why are you here?”
Peter didn’t answer, assuming that it was a rhetorical question. He climbed onto the bar stool beside Tony, watching as he poured more whiskey into the shot glass. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Peachy, now that you’re here,” Tony said, raising his glass to toast Peter before throwing his head back. He pulled a face as the drink burned his throat, but savoured it nonetheless. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Uh, I know it’s a Sunday because there’s no school, but, it’s,” Peter paused, thinking. “The eighteenth?”
Tony smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put the glass back down and grabbed Peter’s shoulder. “Can’t even remember the date. It’s the sixteenth, kid.”
“What does that have anything to do with this?”
Tony didn’t answer, just poured himself another shot. He moved behind the bar to find a kool-aid, why he had it he didn’t know, but he slid it across the bar and it landed in Peter’s hands.
“Oh,” Peter said, finally realizing, removing the straw wrapper.
He remembered, back when he was like, obsessed, obsessed with Tony Stark, he found out that his parents had died when he read his Wikipedia page for the first time. It sort of made him feel like he was even closer to the great Tony Stark in a way, as he had also lost his parents. But he didn’t know that Tony was still grieving, as it happened a while ago, and he whenever any interviewers brought up the subject of his parents Tony completely avoided the question.
“Yeah,” Tony mumbled, putting his head on the counter. “I’m good, though. You should go. Call Happy.”
Peter shook his head. Judging from the way he was acting right now, and the knowledge that Tony had been hurting himself, even if the scars were old, Peter just couldn’t leave him alone like this. He didn’t like the empty look in Tony’s eyes that were usually bright. He didn’t like how he was slurring everything, and how he was dangerously close to falling over. He sat there and sipped his kool-aid, watching as Tony’s eyes got more unfocused with every sip of alcohol. He had never seen Mr Stark lose it, and he wasn’t going to let him.
“You know, whenever I miss my parents, or Uncle Ben, I put on the fourth Star Wars movie,” Peter offered, shrugging. “We should watch it.”
Tony let out a cold laugh, shaking his head. “Kid, this is why I love you.”
“Why?”
“You’re so,” Tony paused, still smiling without emotion. “You.”
“Let’s watch it. Maybe it’ll help you,” Peter said, jumping off of his stool. “I’ll order food. What’s your favourite pizza?”
Tony just rubbed his eyes. “Fuck, I’m drunk. Pepperoni. Cheese. I don’t care. I can’t eat.”
“Then here,” Peter grabbed a glass out of the cupboards and filled it up with tap water. “Drink.”
Tony looked at the glass in Peter’s hand. “I don’t like to be handed things.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Tony searched his foggy mind for an answer, massaging the bridge of his nose. “It’s a, it’s a lawsuit thing. Just leave it on the table.”
Peter didn’t say anything, but he put the glass down on the table. Tony eyed the water reluctantly, but ended up drinking it, first taking careful sips before shrugging and throwing the rest down like he was taking a shot.
“Boss, I have taken the liberty to order a cheese pizza and set up Star Wars: Episode Four on the screen,” FRIDAY said. “The pizza will arrive shortly.”
“Great. Tell them to bring it here,” Tony mumbled, going over to the sink and throwing water on his face, trying to sober up, but it was far too late. He turned, staring at Peter before blinking twice and shaking his head.
“What?” Peter asked.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tony said, and it was the soberest thing that he had said since Peter had arrived.
“I want to.”
Tony paused, blinking rapidly. He had a lump building in his throat and his eyes stung, but god help him, he couldn’t cry in front of the kid.
“You okay, Mr Stark?”
“Yeah. Start the movie without me, I’m gonna grab a water,” Tony said quickly, turning around. Peter went over to the couch, pretending not to notice the tears brimming in Mr Stark’s eyes. He deserved some dignity.
Tony stuck his face in the cool air of the fridge, his tears a hot contrast from the cold. He couldn’t do this. He was drunk, he was tired, he was so close to a mental breakdown. But goddammit, the kid just couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t make him leave, and he wants to help, and oh, god. He swallowed a sob and wiped his face on his sleeve, closing the fridge door.
Screw staying remotely sober. Tony grabbed a bottle of beer from the cupboard, not caring if he was known to have rich wine instead, and brought it to the couch. If Peter noticed that Tony had brought alcohol instead of water, he didn’t say anything.
The pizza arrived a few minutes later, and Peter stood up to get it. Tony just stared blankly at the screen, not really watching, not really caring or paying attention. He pretended not to feel Peter’s worried glances, because it was so much easier. Easier to pretend, to not say anything. He didn’t say a word as the kid opened the pizza box and dug in, ignoring the tentative pushes of the pizza box moving toward him in a not-so-subtle attempt at getting Mr Stark to eat.
At one point, though, in between the last time Peter has glanced at him and the most recent time, he had started tearing up; his eyes were red and watery, reflecting the scenes on the screen with ease. If Tony blinked just once the tears would’ve fallen.
“You okay, Mr Stark?”
“God- yeah, I’m good,” Tony lied, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes. He tried discreetly to rub the tears away, but they kept coming back, so he just kept his hand on his face.
“Are you sure?” Peter asked, giving his mentor some metaphorical room and personal space.
“Yeah,” Tony said again, taking his hand away from his face for just a second, and in that second, Peter caught a glimpse of how heavy and dark his eye bags were, and how wet his face had gotten.
“Because if you’re not okay, we can talk about it,” Peter offered, feeling very much like an adult.
“Pete- oh Jesus,” Tony shook his head, his voice cracking and thick with tears. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” he said.
Tony shook his head again, biting his lip to keep him from crying out. It came out a muffled whimper, and Peter put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. That gesture broke something inside of Tony, and he fell apart, making half-hearted attempts at composing himself for the kid, but still ending up with heaving shoulders and an endless supply of tears. Every time he tried to take deep breaths and pull himself together because Peter didn’t have to see this, the kid would do something stupid like try and comfort him and it would make him fall apart again.
“It’s alright, Mr Stark,” Peter kept repeating, and Tony didn’t deserve to have this kid in his life, he was so fucking grateful and if anything happened to Peter he would kill everyone and then himself.
“Kid, I’m drunk. That’s my excuse, alright?” Tony started, ignoring the way his voice cracked.
“Excuse for what?”
“For, for what I’m about to say. And even if I don’t remember what I told you in the morning, just know that I mean every word,” he shook his head, finding difficulty bringing the words together in his head. “Fuck it. Peter Parker, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Mr Stark-”
“Shush, kid. Take advantage of this. It’s not everyday Tony Stark compliments someone,” Tony interrupted him. “You make me better. And I’m sorry about that, that stupid thing that I freaked out about, I’m sorry that I didn’t invite you over. Because during those two weeks when I held that grudge, or whatever you wanna call it, I was miserable. Pepper can vouch for that.”
Peter just sat there, soaking in the words.
“You are, the singular, best thing that has ever happened to me,” Tony closed his eyes, supporting his head with his hands. “Did I ever tell you what happened with Cap? His best friend killed my parents. And then I tried to fight his friend, but then good ol’ Cap was fighting me as well, and I never thought I’d needed to fight him. I didn’t program anything for that. It didn’t even cross my mind,” he ended with a soft sob, trailing off. “He left me. In the cold, with a broken suit. He had put his shield in the arc reactor. Funny. My dad made the shield, and Cap’s best friend murdered him.
“Everyone left. And then you came, and suddenly I wasn’t lonely, I had a purpose, and god, I am so fucking grateful for you. Peter Parker,” Tony let out a small chuckle, but it quickly faded. “I am so sorry.”
“What for?”
“All of this,” Tony gestured to himself, opening his eyes. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re okay, Mr Stark,” Peter squeezed his arm. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me too.”
Tony smiled, closing his eyes again. “You say that. I don’t think it’s true.”
“No, seriously, Mr Stark. You made it fun for me. You’re keeping me safe, and you’re helping me,” Peter said softly. “I’m sorry about Mr Captain America.”
“Nothing you could do,” Tony said sadly. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just-”
“It’s alright, Mr Stark,” Peter moved closer to Tony, nudging his shoulder into his side. “It’s nothing you should apologize for.”
“No, you’re a kid. You’re a kid, and I’m word-dumping everything on you, you’re not some sort of psychiatrist, and- oh, fuck. Rhodey’s here,” Tony grumbled, wiping his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes. “I’m not ready for this.”
Sure enough, the doors clicked open and Rhodey walked in; the new braces on his legs gave him almost the same mobility as before. He just couldn’t do the splits anymore, but that wasn’t all too necessary when it came to fighting people in a giant suit.
“Tones,” Rhodey said softly, sitting beside him. “I’d ask if you wanted a drink, but it seems you’re already wasted.”
“M’ fine, not drunk enough. Rhodey, this is Peter. Pete, this is Rhodey,” Tony said, standing up. “I’m getting a drink.”
Rhodey watched him leave, then turned to Peter. “He okay?”
He shook his head no. “He’s drunk.”
“Sorry you had to see that,” Rhodey shook his head. “I’m James Rhodes.”
“Peter Parker,” he extended his hand out and Rhodey shook it, and Peter had to repress his inner fanboy at shaking War Machine’s hand. Just wait until Ned hears!
“Getting all homely? All acquainted? Nice, let’s watch Star Wars,” Tony said sourly, holding another bottle of beer.
Rhodey let him have his space, didn’t say anything about the red and blotchy face, and Peter followed suit. Even though he wanted the question Tony more about why he really felt that Peter was the best thing that had ever happened to him, he didn’t want to embarrass him in front of Rhodey, even if they were best friends and had probably been through worse.
Sometimes Tony just needed to collect himself.
Sure enough, once the movie ended, Tony Stark was Tony Stark again, not a trace of the vulnerability that he had shown earlier on his face. Sure, he was still heavily intoxicated, but he’d started talking more, making jokes and calling them both ‘sweet cheeks’. It was weird, Peter found, how he could easily change masks around people, but that was Tony Stark. Unpredictable and different for everyone.
“I’m sad. I’m going to bed,” Tony said, waving his hand to shut off the menu screen.
“It’s four o’clock, Tony,” Rhodey told him.
“It’s sleep or drink. Which do you prefer?” Tony asked, standing up and swaying. Rhodey quickly stood up and caught his arm, steadying him.
“You okay, Mr Stark?” Peter asked, taking Tony’s other side.
“You say that a lot. And I’ve already told you. I'm sad. I’m going to bed. Good night, kid,” Tony slurred, ruffling Peter’s hair. “See you soon. Thanks for coming. You’re the best.”
Rhodey smiled at Peter, leading a drunk and unsteady Tony to the door. “I’ve got him. He’ll be alright.”
Peter nodded, assuming that was his cue to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Mr Colonel James Rhodes.”
“You too, Pete. You’re good for him, you know?”
He nodded, passing them on his way to the door and pressing the button to call the elevator.
“And Peter?” Rhodey stopped him.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“It was no problem,” Peter smiled, stepping into the elevator.
--
Pete-
I don’t remember much from last night, but I remember a lot of Star Wars and alcohol and crying; if you were ever uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.
Now I have a massive headache and am very hungover, but I just wanted to text to tell you thanks. I know I’m not the best with emotions, so I’m sorry if this comes across as short.
I love you, kiddo.
T.S.