#son!peter

Hello guys! It’s been a while since the last installment of this and I thank you for your patience. I’m terrible at writing angst and this chapter is filled with it, so it took me a while to write it. But it’s here and I’m proud of it and it’s long, so hopefully that makes up for the wait. It begins during Infinity War and I made a few changes to the movie, so, there’s that. I hope you guys enjoy it! :)

Read Part 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony’s been questioning every choice he’s made in his entire life ever since they’ve infiltrated this stupid space donut, hurling two hundred miles an hour towards uncharted intergalactic territory.

He knows in his hearts of hearts that this is a one way ticket, there’s no possibility, not a chance in hell that his feet will ever touch solid ground—Earth—ever again. He’s never going to see Pepper’s smile, smell her perfume, hear her laugh. He thinks of the last conversation they had, the thought of a unknown child, the thought of the future. The thought of Peter playing with a small ginger haired kid, with his eyes and Pepper’s nose and her penchant for making him be better, want better. He thought of Peter and the kid working towards his final years in high school, already picking out colleges and making plans for his future.

All of that went up in smoke when he followed this flying saucer and the world was at risk again. His world—Pepper, Peter, Happy, Rhodey—was in danger and he mourned the loss of that future for a second and then all thoughts of children and wedding venues left his mind and it was set on saving the world. For Pepper. For Peter. For Rhodey. For Happy.

And that kid—that frustrating, eager to please, always ready to save someone even if it means his life—shows up, with his movie references and his big heart and his penchant wanting to save everyone in trouble.

The dread that had settled like lead into his stomach since boarding this giant space ship increased ten fold when Peter Parker came out of the shadows and punched his one way ticket to space with no certainty of return.

But seeing Peter, a kid, his kid for all intents and purposes, with an entire future a head of him, stand there in the middle of a space ship hurtling them further and further away from Earth—which was safer by a bigger margin than this level of unknown, foreign territory they were currently in  —and marvel at his surroundings lit a fire of determination to get that kid back home, back to his aunt, whole and happy.

Even if it meant he didn’t get to go with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Their plan was going to work.

It was shaky and risky, at best, but this Mantis was sure she could subdue Thanos enough so they, Peter and Tony, with combined forces, could get the gauntlet off and kill Thanos and not just save the world from almost complete eradication, but they could go home.

Home

Tony believed in this plan because he had to. He had to believe that he was going to get a chance to save Peter, who was torn between watching a twitching Strange as he filtered through all possibilities, all the outcomes of their victory and observing Titan with awestruck eyes. He had to believe that at the end of this, Peter was going to get to walk away from it, unscathed and go back to Earth, home to his aunt May and his friends and live as normal of a life as he could. One that didn’t involve intergalactic war-zones and aliens hell bent on imposing their will on the entire universe.

“Do you think this is going to work?”

Tony looks down at Peter, dressed in the IronSpider suit he’d designed for him when the thought of something horrible happening to this kid kept him up at night, the same suit the kid turned down weeks later when it finished because he wanted to continue to look out for the little guy and Tony hasn't believed in God for a number of years, but he finds himself praying to any deity that will listen, that he can get this kid through this.

He looks nervous, scared, but there’s a determination in his eyes that gives Tony the confidence to look his kid in the eye and reassure him.

“It’s going to work, underoos.” He says, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder, give it a squeeze and through the armor, he feels him relax, like Tony’s assurance was all he needed to believe. In himself. In them. In this plan.

“Okay,” Peter says, blows out a breath and when he meets Tony’s eyes again, all his fear and nerves are gone. Replaced with a confidence and a fire that makes Tony feel even more determined to prove to Peter that his  words deserve the blind trust Peter places in them.

And when Tony hears Strange announce that there’s 14,000,605 possibilities, alternate futures and outcomes that can stem from this fight for their lives, he’s almost afraid to ask the number of times they can win, but he’s Tony Stark and he will forever put more stock into numbers and statistics than any prayers one can utter, he asks anyways.

“And in how many of those outcomes do we win?”

Strange’s lips form a grim line when he replies, “One.”

One

He feels Peter tense beside him and the sober air turns even more foreboding at this revelation, this new piece of data and Tony wonders if they were better off not knowing.

Because out of fourteen million scenarios, they only win in one.

Which means they have 0.000007% of winning.

And, when Tony looks around, that means that at least half of them are going to die for that one chance they have in saving the entire universe.

He looks to Peter and he makes peace with the fact that he’d happily be put in that half that dies trying if it means Peter is in the half that lives.

One

One chance to save this kid that’s engraved himself on Tony’s heart and who Tony would do anything to protect, give up everything to protect. Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, the hypothetical child that he dared let himself dream of having because of this kid, standing next to him.

And Pepper, bless her, would understand.

Because despite it all, Peter was his son.

And he would give anything to give his son the one chance to go home.

So he placed his faith in science and numbers and his technology that his son would be in that half that got off this red wasteland and let this day become a memory.

He has one chance

~~~~~~~~~~

It was working

Their plan was actually working

It was working, they had it, the gauntlet was coming off, just a little bit more to go and then—

Snap

The fighting stopped, an eerie silence settled over the forgotten planet and they braced themselves for the promised awful that was to come and then—

Strange went first, falling to his knees and gasping as if he couldn't breathe and then—

His body began to break down and disintegrate, floating off into thin dust particles and then he wasn't there.

Tony whipped his head around, eyes wild as he watched as it started happening to Quill, Mantis, Drax—their bodies began to turn to ash, until they disappeared into thin air and then nothing.

“M—Mr. Star—Tony— I-I don’t feel so good.” Peter gasped and Tony turned his wild eyes to Peter, who was falling to the ground but Tony grabbed him before he could, falling to his knees with the weight of Peter and he tried to ignore the fact that it already felt like dead weight

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tony panted, trying to hold back the panic, “You’re okay, it’s okay—“

Not Peter, please not Peter

Peter’s brown eyes were wide with fear and panic and Tony’s hand shook as he held the kid tighter, “I-I don’t want to go, please Tony—“

“You’re not going anywhere, it’s okay—“ Tony tried to sooth through blurry eyes.

“I’m scared Tony—please-d-don’t let me go—“ Peter pleaded, his eyes begging Tony to fix it.

Not my son, not my son, please not my son

“Stay with me Pete—no don’t close your eyes, bud, please—“

Peter’s cheeks were wet with tears and Tony could feel his legs begin to disintegrate, ignored the way he felt lighter and the ash that began to float in the air where parts of Peter’s body used to be.

“I-I’m sorry, Tony, I-I tried—“

Tony was trying so hard to not let his tears fall but his heart was reaching unhealthy levels of panic, “You did so good, bud, I’m so proud of you.”

Peter gasped and his face began to blur and Tony wanted to scream, “Peter, I’m going to fix this—Pete stay with me bud—“

“—Tony—I—“

No nonononononoo

“—Pete? Please, buddy, you gotta—“

“—I’m sorry, Tony—“

Peter’s hand was gone, his brown eyes closed and his body—the ash that was Peter—drifted away and Tony screamed in agony, his tears mingling with the sweat and blood and his heart felt like it was going to shatter and disintegrate right along with Peter’s body.

Peter was gone

He was gone

It was supposed to be me

~~~~~~~~~~

He doesn't know how long he floats in space, he knows the number is upwards of twenty-something days, and all he could think about was how he wishes, more than anything, he would've floated away in the wind with Peter.

He didn’t want to leave Titan, Peter, it had taken Nebula physically shoving him in what remained of the space doughnut and forcing tools into his hands to get it up an running, handing him a purpose, to get him to leave. They managed to get it running, enough to get off Titan and headed towards open space and if Tony didn’t feel like he was leaving a piece of him behind, he would be staring out at the planets and galaxies with wonder.

For someone who was more computer than human, Nebula was observant and kept her distance from Tony for the first few days, allowing him to wallow in his own grief and regret. But as the days wore on, the ship needed repairs and despite the growing bleakness of their situation, the low food and water supply, Tony was grateful for the distraction.

They were a good team, Nebula was calculating and matter of fact, knowledgeable with mechanics and computers and the foreign mechanisms used in a space ship.

But she wasn’t Peter.

And even up to his elbows in foreign mechanics and spaceship guts, he couldn't help but think of his days in the lab with Peter. Everything reminds him of Peter and it makes his chest ache and his eyes sting.

“Was he your son?”

It’s day fourteen and Tony’s up to eyeballs in the ship’s main engine, screw driver between his teeth while he attempts to rewire the main power source to give them the extra boost they would need to get them home. The question makes him pause and the wire in his hand short circuits, shocking him and he curses under breath at the burnimg sensation it leaves behind.

The question is simple, but the answer is complicated and complex and everything in Tony aches. He wants to go home. He wants to find that purple bastard and bash his head in until his blood stains the orange dust on that wasteland of a planet. He wants to turn back time and never allow Peter on this ship. He wants to go even further back and stop that god forsaken spider from biting Peter in the first place. He wants to trade places with Peter, he wishes that it was him who turned to nothing, not Peter.

Never Peter.

He just wants Peter.

He’s gone beyond the normal social standard of time one has to answer a question when asked, but Nebula either didn’t notice or care, just watching him intently from her own project across from him.

“Yes,” he said eventually, fiddling with the wires again, the burn on his thumb smarting and it distracted against the other wounds that were throbbing in synch with the beat of his heart, “he—Peter—he is mine. Not biologically speaking, but yeah, he is—was my son.”

Nebula cast her eyes downward, “I’m sorry my father has caused you so much pain.”

Tony eyed her for a moment, considering, “I’m sorry you had to call someone so ugly ‘dad’.”

He didn’t mean it as a joke, but Nebula gave a sinister hiss that resembled an incredulous laugh, “He was no father. Thanos might have taken me and called me his daughter, but he wasn't a father.”

“And I thought I had Daddy Issues.” Tony muttered.

Nebula gave him a odd look and he realized his joke was lost on her.

They settled back into silence and their respective projects.

When stands Tony stands to go forage for food in their dwindling supply, he pauses, turning to look back a Nebula, who's diligently mapping out their route home and he has to clear his throat from disuse.

“I’m sorry your father has caused you so much pain. I know what he did to your sister and I’m sorry.”

Nebula pauses, the map above her spinning and twirling in order to find their best option home and she stares so long at it, Tony wonders if she’ll even respond.

Just as he’s turning to leave, he hears Nebula speak, “She wasn't really my sister, you know. Thanos took her, like he took me. He murdered my family, her family and all my other siblings families. But he saw something in us worth keeping. And I hated my other siblings. I hated Gamora, too. Thanos—he would make us fight against each other, preparing us for battle. And she would always win. Always. And every time she did, he would replace a piece of me with metal and armor. An upgrade, he called it. I hated her for it. But she protected me, in the end. She fought for me and she saved me.”

She looked up at him and for a moment, Tony could see his own pain reflected in her eyes, “She wasn't my sister. Not by blood or biology, but I will avenge her death if it’s the last thing I do.”

Tony feels the same need for vengeance in his chest and it burns almost as much as the ache in his chest that was left behind the minute Peter disappeared in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~

They’re out of food. They ran out of water a day ago and the hope he had at the beginning of the journey home disappeared around the same time they ran out of supplies. Their ship is in shambles and they’re floating among the stars aimlessly.

Tony feels the hunger pains in his stomach, the dryness of this throat and the chill that has settled over the inside of the ship. He can no longer feel his toes or his fingers and he wonders, idly, what will kill him first. The lack of food, water or the cold.

He’s never felt this level of helplessness before. Not since the cave and even that situation didn’t seem as dire as this. At least in Afghanistan, he was on Earth and closer to human life, closer to a chance of a rescue attempt.

But here, floating further and further away from Earth, millions of millions of miles away from any human life form, the chance for the calvary to recuse them were very slim.

Fatigue settles into his bones and he closes his eyes, resting his head against the glass window of the ship. He feels a numbness that has nothing to do with the freezing temperature. He just wants it all to end. The hunger, the thirst, the hope, that maybe, maybe help his coming. The hope that maybe this is all just a nightmare and he’ll wake up from it. He knows what it’s like to have nightmares this real, to be trapped inside his own mind and he hopes that this is just a nightmare.

Hope, Tony thinks to himself dazedly, what a debilitating and crippling concept.

He slips into a fitful sleep and a part of him hopes that this time, he won’t wake up.

Hope

What a cruel and bitter bitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Someone was nudging him.

That was the first thing Tony registered as he woke from the memory of Peter pleading for his life. The taste of failure was bitter on his tongue and he swallowed, wincing at the sandpaper texture of his throat.

He blinked up at Nebula, who was kneeling over him with a mild look of disgust on her face, “What?”

Nebula gave a sound which sounded both relieved and annoyed, “I thought you were dead.”

Tony rubbed his eyes and sat up, wincing at the ache in his bones, “Sorry to disappoint you, Blues Clues, but I’m very much alive and well.”

Nebula hissed in what was annoyance, Tony was now sure, “I do not understand such a statement.”

“Blues Clues? The little blue dog that’s always accompanied by a vaguely suspicious man who likes to spend a lot time around children and make believe characters?”

Nebula merely blinked, “Are you intoxicated?”

Tony snorted, “I wish,” he muttered, “Now why did you wake me up?”

Nebula nodded out the window and Tony followed her gaze, wincing against the bright gold light that lit up the dark void that was this area of space.

“What is that?” He demanded, scrambling to stand up, because yeah, that orb of light was heading right towards them.

“I do not know, but it’s heading right for us and this ship can’t take much more.”

Tony swallowed heavily, glancing over to his beaten and battered suit that was slowly turning into a crude version of an Iron Man popsicle. His heart was racing in his chest, his mind was a blur and he had no idea what they were going to do if that thing made impact.

He opened his mouth to ask, plead, beg, scream, he would never find out because whatever that glow-y thing was—an orb, a meteor—was knocking on their door.

Nebula reached for the gun at her hip and she cautiously made her way over to the entrance of the ship, opening the door slowly and Tony swore he was hallucinating because okay, that was a woman, who was glowing and currently suspended about a trillion feet above earth like it was an every day occurrence.

“Who are you?” Nebula demanded, raising her gun at the woman.

“I’m Carol Danvers,” The woman replied, completely ignoring the gun being waved in her face, glancing around the cabin of the ship until her eyes land on Tony.

“Tony Stark,” Carol Danvers said with a small smirk, “You’re a hard man to find.”

“I’m sorry, but I missed the part where we know each other, you’ve been absent from all the super-hero meetings.” Tony said, giving her a wary glance over.

Carol smirked wider, “I’m more of a one woman operation.”

“Oh well, I appreciate the whole lone ranger thing, but what are you here for?” Tony said, leaning back against the wall of the ship. He was beginning to feel dizzy from all the standing, his knees were shaking and his body felt weak to the point where he wanted to sit down and sleep for a million years.

“To bring you home.” She said, her voice softening, concern lighting her eyes as she watched Tony slowly collapse against the wall.

Home

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the ship landed, Tony couldn't bring himself to look out the window, couldn't bring himself to hope that this wasn't another dream, that this was real. He wasn't floating, lost in some dark void of space. He was here, on earth, at the compound.

Home

The mouth of the ship opens slowly and tears fill his eyes at the sight of the tops of the trees, the smell of pine filling his nostrils and when it finally lowers, he sees Pepper first, followed by Happy and then Rhodey.

His heart fills to the brim with joy and he hardly believes what his eyes are seeing.

And then his eyes land on May Parker among the ones to welcome him back and something in him shatters at the hopeful expression on her face.

Peter

He collapses when he takes his first step and he just lets himself fall, but strong arms wrap around him and knows without even looking that it’s Steve fucking Rogers that catches him.

He keeps his eyes on May and watches the horror fill her eyes, along with the tears and he breaks.

“I lost the kid,” Tony whispers brokenly, “I lost the kid.”

Steve’s grip tightens around Tony and for the first time since the kid turned to dust in his arms, a sob rips through Tony’s throat and he feels the absence of Peter like a stab to through the chest.

He made it home and Peter didn’t and that fact hurts worse than any blow ever could.

I’ll keep him safe May, I promise.

Nothing will ever happen to him.

May Parker’s hysterical sobs match Tony’s and it rips the remaining shreds of Tony’s heart to pieces.

“God, Steve, I lost the kid.” Tony says and it hits him, now just how permanent that is.

I lost him

My son

He’s gone

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony stays in the hospital for two weeks.

Bruce wanted him to stay longer, but Tony ignored the protests and checked himself out of the medical wing and he wants to disappear for a while.

He knows the others want to start talking strategy, to devise a plan to reverse the damage, to find Thanos and make him pay for what he did.

But Tony just wants to disappear. He doesn't want to think, he doesn't want to talk about Thanos and space and stones and what could or couldn't happen if they gather all the stones.

The only thing he wants is Peter and he can’t have that.

His first stop when he’s out of the medical wing is to stop by the bar and grab the oldest and biggest bottle of scotch he can find, not even bothering with a glass that has dust settling around the rim from lack of use.

He’d tried to be the father that he’d always wanted and that meant being sober. As long as he had Peter in his life, Tony hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. He never wanted Peter to pick up the habit and he never wanted to be intoxicated in case Peter ever needed him.

Something like guilt settles in the pit of the stomach, but the reminder that Peter isn't here and won’t ever be around again, hits him like a shot to the gut and he unscrews the bottle and takes a long pull, wincing at the burning in his throat.

He wanders through the compound, through the hallways and down corridors that he doesn't recognize and he takes long pulls from the bottle and finally, his feet take him to the lab.

He’s unsteady on his feet and the bottle’s half empty, but the ache in his chest has yet to lessen and Tony stumbles into the lab table, catching himself on the edge of it and righting himself.

He looks at the lab through blurry eyes and so many memories swirl in his brain, the kid sprawled out on the couch, up to his nose in homework. Peter leaning over his web shooters, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. Peter’s bright laughter when he his web formula exploded over both of them. Peter’s excited science babble. Peter complaining about the level of Metallica and Tony admonishing him for not knowing his classics.

“It’s AC/DC there bud, respect the classics.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “I think you need to let go of the classics, it’s hurting my ears.”

“I knew I’d find you in here.”

Tony startles at the voice, looking up at Steve Rogers leaning against the doorframe of the lab and watching him with a guarded expression.

Tony has to blink several times to get the extra Steve’s to go away and he straightens himself as best as he can, still leaning against the lab table for support.

“What do you want, Rogers?” Tony demands tiredly, taking a swig from the bottle still dangling in his hands.

“Everyone’s looking for you, we’re worried—“

Tony scoffs, “Like any of you care.”

“Of course we care Tony, it’s why we’re here.”

A bitter laugh slips through Tony’s lips and he shakes his head, “Oh yes, you all care so much. Tell me, Rogers, did any of you care when you left me with a broken suit in the middle of fucking Siberia? I don’t recall any of you weeping at my bedside while I wasted away in a hospital bed for two months after Cho had to reconstruct my sternum from your little shield, on top of the hypothermia and frost bite.”

Steve winced, opening his mouth to protest, but Tony had been waiting for this moment for almost two years, he wasn't going to have it taken away from him now, “Or how about Rhodey? Not one of you reached out to him to see how he was doing after your little ant buddy paralyzed him from the waist down. You know it took almost a full year for him to learn how to walk again? And that was after I had to spend months perfecting the technology to do so. You left me with a flip phone and a note that wasn't any form of an apology and you took almost everyone I had ever cared about away from me.”

Tony laughed, “So why now Steve? Did your little buddy get snapped along with the rest of the others? Am I supposed to come up with another plan to save his ass when he’s done nothing but destroy any family I ever had? You knew he murdered my parents and you kept that to yourself. You were supposed to be my friend ,too. Or was I just a place holder until you could find Barnes?”

“Tony—“

“So screw all of you, every single one of you. Because none of you cared then and none of you care now.” He took a swig from the bottled and collapsed into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands.

God, he was drunk. And tired. So tired. He just wanted to curl up on the couch in the corner of the room and fall asleep. But he knew what would be waiting for him when he did. And he couldn't spend another night reliving Peter’s death. He couldn't do it.

A hand settled on his shoulder cautiously, and Tony shook it off.

Steve sighed, shuffling backwards to give Tony his space, “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Tony.”

Tony stood up so fast the room spun and he had to grip the table for balance, “Don’t,” he warned lowly through gritted teeth, “don’t you dare go there, Rogers.”

“Tony, we lose good men and women in battle, it’s hazards of the job—“

Anger like Tony had never felt before swelled in his gut, hot and unyielding and before he could even think, the bottle that was on the table next to his hand was in his grasp and thrown at such a speed across the room that even Steve the super soldier almost missed it. It shattered against the wall and the scotch splattered everywhere and Tony couldn't even bring himself to care.  

“PETER WAS MY SON! HE WAS A CHILD, NOT ONE OF YOUR GODDAMN SOLDIERS! SO DON’T TELL ME THAT IT’S A HAZARD OF THE JOB, ROGERS, BECAUSE PETER DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE!”

White hot pain flared in his chest, an ache so deep Tony felt like he couldn't breathe. He collapsed into a chair and put his head in his hands, feeling the wetness on his cheeks and he realized he was crying.

“Peter was—he was my responsibility, I was supposed to protect him—and I—I couldn't save him,” Tony whispered, his voice cracking, “he just—disappeared and he was so scared and I couldn't save him, there was—there was nothing I could do. And he’s gone and not coming back and I—I shouldn't be here, he should be here—“

“Tony,” Steve said, his voice gentle, “it wasn't your fault.”

“He wasn't supposed to be there! He wasn't supposed to get on that fucking ship! He was supposed to stay here, to be here, with his aunt and looking after the little people, he never—he never wanted this,” Tony said desperately, waving his hand in a vague gesture and Steve understood.

“Tony,” Steve said, his voice still low, calm, “it wouldn't of mattered if he was here or in space, with you. He would’ve…disappeared, regardless. We don't know why it only affected certain people, but either way, losing Peter wasn't your fault. The only person to blame is Thanos and the only way to get Peter back is to figure out a way to reverse all of this.”

He placed what was supposed to be a calming hand on Tony’s shoulder, but Tony shook him off, “And how the fuck do you suppose we do that, Rogers? The only hope we had at reversing time got dusted with Peter and with Strange gone, we have nothing. Unless you’ve got Doc Brown’s phone number—“

“So you’re just going to give up?” Steve demanded, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

“What do you want from me, Captain Spangles? Do you want me to dust off the ole DeLorean and go back in time to when this purple bastard was born and kill him? I’ve done many things, Rogers, but time travel isn't one of them. It can’t be done.”

“But I thought Tony Stark could do anything.” Steve said with a hint of sarcasm and Tony wished he had another glass bottle to throw at his head.

“I’m only a human, okay?” Tony snapped, “I can’t solve everything. You people think that I have the solution to everything, but you’re missing one important thing.”

“And what’s that?” Steve demanded.

“I spent every waking moment on that god forsaken ship thinking of ways I could fix this and bring Peter home. I thought of everything, every single possibility and I came up with the same answer. It can’t be done. Because if it could, Peter would be here, safe. I would've never left that ship if it meant that I could've saved Peter. And he’s not here. And I get to live with that for the rest of my life. This is the one problem I can’t solve and it kills me. Do you get that? So it’s not for a lack of trying, because I tried. I tried and I tried until I almost lost my mind trying to think of ways to bring that kid back to me. But I can’t, Steve, I can’t.”

Tears fill Tony’s eyes and he wants to scream and yell until he doesn't have a voice, because Steve doesn't get it.

He had to hold the closest thing he had to a son in his arms while he died and there was nothing he could do. Peter died and Tony didn’t and that is something Tony will never be able to live with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They have a memorial service for the ones that disappeared after the snap. They light candles and place them in front of pictures of the fallen and Tony can’t bring himself to look at Peter’s picture. May picked it out and Tony knows it took her days to even bring herself to look at the stack of photos that Happy had brought from her apartment.

Everyone is dressed in black and Tony has flashbacks of his parents funeral and he desperately wants a drink.

They take turns sharing memories, stories and Tony can’t choose which one he wants to share of Peter. He doesn't know if he wants to share Peter with a room full of people who didn’t know him. Peter was his family and most of the people in the room had decided a long time ago that they didn’t want to be a part of his family.  May can’t get through her speech without breaking into tears and Rhodey escorts her to her room to lay down.

Tony locks himself in his room afterwards, because it’s the only place in the compound that doesn't remind him of Peter. A bottle of scotch becomes an extension of his left hand and he fades in and out of a drunken stupor. He doesn't bother to keep track of time. He doesn't eat, he doesn't shower, he just…exists, as this empty shell of a person and it’s pathetic, he knows, but he doesn't care.

It’s on day five, Tony thinks, that F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells him that May Parker is outside his door and wishes to speak to him.

Tony hasn't seen her since the memorial and the first thing that goes through his mind is the memory of her gut wrenching sobs when she realized her nephew was one of the many that turned to dust. And Tony just can’t deal with someone else blaming him for Peter. He blames himself enough for the both of them.

Without waiting for a response from him, F.R.I.D.A.Y. lets her in and he can’t meet her eyes.

She doesn't say anything at first, she just comes in and sits at the end of the bed, Thor the puppy following right next to her.

The sight of the almost fully grown puppy makes a sob build in Tony’s throat and Thor, as if sensing his sadness, comes over and rests his head on Tony’s knee and Tony can’t help but chuckle wetly, combing his fingers through his soft fur.

“He’s been a mess since—“ May stops, her eyes watering and she can’t even bring herself to say it, “I thought maybe—since you got him for—well, you both look liked you could use someone.”

Tony feels the ache in his chest ease slightly and his throat tightens with tears and unspoken words at May’s thoughtfulness. He doesn't know what to say to her, what he could even say to make any of this better. To express how sorry he was.

But she reaches over and grips his hand tightly and he knows without words that she feels it, too. This hollow ache where his heart used to be, like someone ripped it right through his sternum. It hurts when he breathes, his lungs in a constant state of restriction and he can barely breathe through it. He hasn't felt this way since his parents died and even then, this feels worse. Because he was there. And there was nothing he could do.

“May, I—“ He chokes and the tears fall hot on his cheeks and she can only squeeze his hand tight, “I’m so—so—sorry, I never—I never wanted this—not for Peter—not this. I couldn’t—“

“Tony, I—“ She takes a breath, “I wanted to blame you—but I know that you loved him as much—as much I do. And I couldn’t. I knew Peter—“ she winces at his name and her hand shakes in his grasp and he just holds it tighter, “he would've never let you go up there by yourself. And I’ve talked to the others, they think—it would've happened regardless.”

Tears fall silently down her cheeks and Tony wants to look away, but he doesn’t, “I know you blame yourself—but it’s not your fault. None of it.”

May looks down at her lap and fiddles with something for a moment, before handing it to Tony.

It’s a picture and Tony outright sobs at the sight of it, because the memory of that day hits him like a wave and the wound inside him splits wide open.

It was taken on Peter’s sixteenth birthday.

It had fallen on a week day and after much persuasion, May let Peter skip school and spend the day with Tony while she was at work. He surprised Peter with a trip to Coney Island, where he’d rented out the park for the day and they spend the entire trip riding the rides, eating too many hot dogs and too many sweets and they rode every ride at least three times.

Tony couldn't remember the last time he’d had that much fun and you could see it in the smiles on both their faces, big and bright, so much happiness radiating from both of them. Peter filled a void that Tony never knew was there until the kid came into his life. He brightened up every room he came in, spreading his infectious energy with every one he met, Tony included.

Peter had given him so much, had changed him in so many ways and now he was gone and Tony just felt lost. Peter had given him a renewed sense of purpose in life and now, Tony wasn't sure about anything.

“When I lost Ben, there were days that I felt like I couldn't even get out of bed, the loss felt so strong. Ben had been my life for so long, we’d been together since high school and when he died, I felt like he’d taken everything that I was at my core away with him. I was a shell of a person, for so long and there were many days that I just wanted it to end. I wanted to quit my job, I wanted to curl up underneath the covers and tell everyone who was telling me everything was going to be okay, to fuck off. Because it wasn't going to be okay. It will never be okay that he’s not here.”

She looks down at the picture held tightly in Tony’s grasp and gives a watery smile, “Peter was my strength. I had never wanted to be a mom—Ben and I had decided that we were okay with not having kids. And then Peter comes along and I couldn't help but fall in love with this shy, quiet, smart and sweet little boy. He’d just lost his parents and I’d never seen a five year old look at the world with such determination before. He was fearless and he made me brave.”

She sniffles, wiping at her eyes where tears had fallen and Tony’s heart feels like lead in his chest.

He brushes his fingers over Peter’s face and he wishes, more than anything, he could’ve saved him. That he could've gone in his place and if he was given the choice, he would’ve. God, he would. He would've gotten on his knees and begged that purple bastard to spare Peter’s life and take his.

The world could exist without Tony Stark.

It couldn't exist without someone like Peter Parker.

“You’re the only one who can fix this, Tony.” May whispers and her voice sounds so hopeful and broken at the same time. Desperate and frail and Tony feels like she's asking him for something he can’t give her.

“Peter wouldn't want you to throw in the towel, not because of him.” She continues and Tony just feels tired.

He stands up from the bed, tossing the picture on the nightstand and he just wants everyone to leave him alone.

“Why does everyone assume that I can just snap my fingers and reverse everything Thanos did? It might’ve been that easy for him, but it’s not for me. I have no idea where he is, where the stones are and other than inventing a time machine, there’s nothing I can do.”

May looks down at her lap and he can see the angry flush on her cheeks from where he’s standing across the room. She stands, smoothing out the creases in her black dress and it punches the air out of his chest when he realizes it’s probably the same dress she buried her husband in.

She brings her gaze to his and he finds himself amazed at the amount of determination that are blazing in her eyes, “You survived a crude heart surgery, made a suit in a cave and figured out of to survive with a glorified battery in your chest to keep you from dying and you’re saying this is too impossible for you?”

Tony doesn't reply, he doesn't know how to. Because he succeeded in all those things out of pure luck and an eidetic memory. The plans for the arc reactor was already there for him, the parts for the suit were already there, ready to be molded into something with a little creativity.

What she was asking, this was uncharted territory.

“Peter loved you like a father Tony and you once sat there and told me you loved him as a son,” May continued, her words harsh, “And if there’s anything that I’ve learned in the last twelve years of being a parent, is that no matter how much you want to, you can’t give up on your kids, no matter what. And if it was you, Peter would never give up if it meant that he could bring you back.”

May comes closer, the hard edge disappearing and replacing it, a desperation matching his and he closes his eyes to shield himself from it, “You can do this Tony, I know you can. You’re the only one who can fix this and bring him back home.”

“And what if I can’t?” He whispers, his voice small and beyond scared and that’s the truth of it all.

He’s terrified to hope. To dream and believe that this whole situation they're in is reversible. If he failed, it’d be like losing Peter all over again and this time, Tony doesn't know if he could survive it.

“Then you try again,” she says, “you try as many times as you can and in the end, if you can’t—if this is permanent…” she trails off with a sad smile, “I’ll never accept the fact that he’s gone, but it will bring us more peace to know that we tried everything we could to bring him back to us.”

She pats his cheek and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her and Tony collapses onto the bed, rubbing his hands over his face.

He looks over to the night stand, where the picture lays against the wood and he picks it up. He studies the smile on Peter’s face, the brightness of his eyes, the red in his cheeks, flushed from adrenalin and pure joy and Tony can’t help but smile despite the tears steadily falling from his eyes.

Peter was his purpose in life, he was the person Tony wanted to leave his legacy to, should Peter want it. He belonged in future Tony had envisioned for him, he belonged here, on Earth, and continue to spread the kindness and care he readily gave anyone he came across in his life.

Peter deserved a future, a second chance.

And if the world could grant someone like Tony a second chance—and the jury was still out on whether or not that he’d really deserved it—then Tony was more determined to give Peter one, too.

With one last look at the picture, he tucked it into the pocket of his worn jeans and headed down to lab, Thor the puppy following hot on his heels. Tony was so lost in his thoughts he forgot the dog was even here, but the knowledge that he’s got someone, soothes something in Tony and he finds himself thankful for the little guy.

“FRIDAY? We’ve got work to do, honey, start the coffee.”

“Welcome back, boss.” FRIDAY responded.

“Now you great purple bastard,” Tony murmured, grabbing a tablet, “what did you do with those stones?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Request/Prompt: Peter is interrupted on a fieldtrip to Stark Towers, and some interesting revelations come to light.

Warnings: bullying   (I will always try and tag as many warnings as I can think of for each writing, if you read through and find something that I haven’t listed which may be a trigger for someone please send me an ask or message me so that I can add it to this list, thanks!)

Pairings: N/A

Fandom: mcu

Words: 1,416

A/N: This is just a little something that’s been niggling at my brain recently and I really needed to get it out! Please keep in mind that this is AU, it takes place after endgame, Tony is alive and well (as he should be). Peter had been adopted by the Starks after Aunt May died in a car accident.

REQUEST A ONESHOT