The true problem with anxiety for Tony Stark is this: calming, mindless things inspire an emptiness inside the mind, an environment ideal for bad thoughts to grow and invade and smother out light. Tony is already on edge, and why? He doesn't know, but he is, and his mind is twisting things against the grain of reality.
There's some movie with Steve, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint, an old comedy he's not really watching. It all begins with a phone call, something so simple and everyday that Tony doesn't hesitate to pick it up and answer with a simple, "Yeah?" He doesn't know who the caller is, doesn't bother to check, but the filters he had installed were endless and no one but close friends could even get to the first ring.
There's a muffled sort of scuffle happening somewhere in the background, and he's about ready to hang up, but there's something off, a twinge in his stomach, that keeps him on the line.
"Tony? Thank god you answered... this is Ned, Peter's friend-" Tony freezes, fingers gripping the phone so tightly he thinks it's going to shatter.
"Tony?" He hears his name being said from behind him, small and serious. Clint's voice has never sounded like that before.
There is a lot they can lose in one phone call.
He glances at the screen and his heart stops, a cold terror seeping into his mind like frostbite.
"Peter?" His fingers tremble as he pulls up Peter's location on a tablet, "Ned, wha..." a deep breath rattles through his throat, "what's happening?" A few seconds of silence, and Tony's heart is going to beat out of his chest.
"Don't leave me hangin' here."
The location pinged. He was in Queens the last time his suit was on, just south of Cunningham Park. His vitals were up, and Tony knows that he needs to move his ass and save his kid from whatever mess he's gotten himself into.
There are vague, muffled questions reaching his ears but his brain ignores them, whatever his team saying is trivial to what's going on with the kid.
"Wait!" Theres two steps until he reaches the elevator when he hears Peter's voice on the other end of the phone call, and it's the most beautiful sound Tony has ever heard.
"I swear- if you don't say something in the next 3 seconds..." He can barely get his words through because of the ringing in his ears.
"Mr. Stark? Ahhh, sorry, but can we borrow some money for a pizza? I know I don't usually ask about this kind of stuff but I ran out of change last week, and we already ordered it and s p i d e r - m a n can't dine and ditch-"
He was his normal, talkative self, and it's a complete 180 degrees from what Tony expected.
"Huh?" A breath, barely a sound.
"I told Ned not to call, but he stole my phone- stop laughing!! - and you said if I ever needed anything..."
Tony swallowed thickly, nodding his head. When he realized Peter couldn't see him, he cleared his throat and gave a little breath to ward off the shakiness of his voice.
"Sure, don't worry about it. Check your Venmo." With two moves of his finger, there's $300 in Peter's account.
"Holy- Mr. Stark, you didn't have to!"
"Enjoy the pizza kid. See you tomorrow."
A click, and his phone drops to the floor, an oddly soft noise echoing through the stagnant room. There is this buzzing, right under his skin, and his eyes are starting to go fuzzy.
Shit, shit, he knows that the inevitable is coming, and he should breathe, he knows that much, but a familiar airy feeling through his blood is distracting him.
A threat came, and wasn't real, and Tony now had nothing to fight but himself.
He's running a hand through his hair, gripping, pulling, because it's helped ground him before, and Steve is asking him if he's okay but he knows he's not because the world is tilting around him...
Tony crashes into something hard (the wall?) and his body is trembling, muscles pulled tighter than the densest metal he can think of.
"What's going on?" a deep, steady voice... he realizes it's Steve who's touching him, his strong hands trying to support Tony's heaving chest.
Panicked faces surround him, and someone is digging their nails into his arm, which hurts like a bitch.
"The kid," he wheezes, "thought-I just, thought s'thing ha-happened."
His fingers are wracked with tremors. He can't stop fucking shaking no matter how hard he tries.
Steve tries to help, clear eyes wide and trying to catch Tony's wondering gaze, "Everything is okay, Peter is fine- just calm down."
"I-I- I'm tr-tryin-g," he just barely manages to growl out. He's shaking so hard, and his head hurts so much, and he doesn't want to go through this again.
He knows this isn't good for his heart, but the absolute certainty of Peter being hurt in the future crashes through his head like a wave, and he's drowning under it.
He slides down the wall, Steve fumbling to hold him upright.
"-y, Tony, listen to me. You need to try and breathe!" It's Bruce, and he knows this already, he reasons, but his heart is stuttering and he knows he's going to die, and his last...last words to Peter would be 'see you tomorrow'.
Oh God, how much longer did they have?
Would he live to be Tony's age, when he himself was long gone?
Was it a week?
A few more years time spent together before it all crumpled to pieces?
Why he had ever decided to get attached was beyond his knowledge, but caring too much had always been his downfall, despite having some say the exact opposite.
Tony hears the familiar accent of his AI, and he hopes they're not calling Peter, he doesn't want this to be the last memory that he has of him. He hears something about the Hulk and dosage but he can't be sure...
"I- yo- you can't, don-don't ca-ll-" his hands grip fabric and he fists the material in his weak grip, begging the person to understand him through the stuttering.
Tony hears his name repeated over and over, full of tears and panic, and he thinks, "join the club."
He's falling, falling through a cold, merciless black hellscape of terror that send daggers of ice into his lungs. Tony's breath is running out, and then, there's no more air in his chest and it won't even move anymore, damn it!
"Far left, inside the glass dumbwaiter, Sir."
It's blurred, the words not even making sense to Tony any longer. There's a string of curse words, and the sound of smashed glass, and hands are pulling at his arms.
He's so weak, he can do nothing but let them untangle his limbs from his position curled against the captain's chest.
Tony's head just won't stay up any longer, and it rolls against Steve's shoulder. His heart doesn't feel normal (when has it ever?) and it makes him so dizzy he can't tell what's up and what's down.
"I'm sorry, I know you hate this, I have to, I'm so sorry Tony-"
There's a small prick in his forearm, which makes him recoil, but a wave of repose floats through his limbs, tension melting away until his body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
Tony's anxiety calms, tucked away into the far corners of his mind by the sedative, but his heart still thuds against his ears until it's all he can hear.
"-can't sleep yet, old man."
"Keep your eyes open for me, ple- oh shit, please, Tony-"
He slurs an apology (dumb brain) and slips farther into his own mind.
•••
As Tony's body chased the sedative away, hours later, he wakes to a much calmer scene.
He's on the couch, head propped up by a meant-to-be-comfortable-but-failing pillow.
"You're awake." A figure rises from the chair next to him, and if it weren't for the drugs still lacing his adrenaline with zen, he would have startled.
"Yeah, and you almost gave me a heart attack."
"I almost gave you a heart attack?" Steve's voice is tired, but relieved, and Tony is glad he hadn't pissed him off too badly.
He grunts and rolls off the couch, giving an 'oompf' as he hits the ground.
"That was a bad idea."
There's a beat of silence as he rolls to a seated position.
"You really scared us." It's quiet, but tony can feel that it's true. Natasha was dozing in the corner with Clint's arm around her shoulder, and Bruce had sat on the couch beside him, offering a glass of water. His throat was killing him.
"The kid good?"
Steve nods, and gives a smirk. What was he so goddamn smug abou-
Tony can hear a door open from behind him, and suddenly there's the smell of lemon body wash and the feeling of soft curls brushing his cheek. Peter.
"Kid." He hugs him tighter, a long, tired breath falling from his chest.
"Everything's okay, Tony. I'm fine. You can sleep now."
Tony nods, becoming sleepier and sleepier with Peter's presence.
"Peter's dad says what?" Clint coughs into his hands as Tony leans back into the couch.
Tony doesn't hear the comment, and he's just about to doze off. "What?" He mumbles out before closing his eyes, slipping into a peaceful sleep, worries to be left for another day.
He's out like a light before he hears the soft chuckles fill the room.