#also don't get it twisted the only reason peter even carries a water bottle is for his pills | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madasthesea · 5 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Peter and the other snap victims don't remember getting dusted/the soul stone but the survivors do. Their minds are still affected, though (repressed memories, basically), so Peter still gets triggered by something related to the snap and doesn't know why he's panicking. (Sorry that got so long whoops)

(that’s ok, this got long too, double whoops)

Peter wakes up with a gasp.

He must have had a bad dream or something. His heart isbeating fast.

Strange, he usually remembers his dreams. But now there’snothing. If he concentrates, he can almost remember going to bed last night. Heblinks up at the bunk bed bars.

There’s a clatter and Peter jumps, his head whipping aroundto stare as his bedroom door is flung open.

May is standing there. When she sees him, her face pales andher eyes go wide. A hand flies to her mouth.

“May?” he asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

Her legs give out. She sits down hard in his doorway, onehand still covering her mouth.

“May!” Peter gasps, flinging the covers off and dashing theshort distance until he’s kneeling in front of her. “May, what’s wrong?”

May just shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes. Peter’sgut twists.

“Talk to me,” he begs, reaching for her hand. When he touchesher, she sobs and seizes him by the shoulders, hauling him into her lap andhugging him like he’ll disintegrate if she doesn’t hold on tight enough.

“You’re actually here,” she whimpers. “You’re here. My baby.Oh, my baby.”

Peter blinks, not understanding what’s happening. He curlsinto her, trying to tuck himself under her chin like he used to as a childbefore he’d grown taller than her.

“May? I don’t understand.” When he wraps his arms around herwaist, he can feel her shaking from her sobs.

“Peter. Baby, oh my gosh,” she keeps saying. She’s pressingalmost painfully hard kisses to his hair and temple, her tears slicking hisshoulder.

No matter how much he asks, she never tells him what’swrong. She also never lets go of him. After a long time, he finally scoops herinto his arms and carries her into the living room, setting her gently on thecouch.

“I’m going to make you some tea, ok?” he says quietly.

May seems reluctant to be separated by even a few feet,clinging onto him like she’s the one with spider powers, but after a moment shehiccups and nods, uncurling her fingers from his t-shirt.

As the electric kettle boils and Peter digs around in thecupboards for tea bags, he searches desperately for some hint as to what couldhave set May off like that. He’s never seen her like that; not when his parentsdied, not at the Stark Expo when he’d gone missing, not even when a policeofficer brought him home covered in Ben’s blood.

Just as the kettle begins to hiss, someone pounds on theirfront door, so loud and unexpected Peter would have dropped the mug he’sholding if not for his powers. He sets it down on the counter, taking a singlestep toward the door before it’s suddenly shoved open.

Tony Stark is standing in his doorway.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter squeaks, way beyond confused now. He hasabsolutely no idea what is happening, but it feels like he accidently sleptthrough the end of the world with the way everyone’s acting. Not only that butsomething about Tony, and even May, is off. There’s something behind their eyesthat makes them look older than they should, sad and hollowed out.

And Tony, too, is staring at him like he’s some type ofapparition.

“Peter,” Tony breathes.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks, fear tingling just beneathhis skin.

Once again he doesn’t get an answer. Instead Tony steps forwardand raises both hands to trace along Peter’s face, calloused thumbs gentlyfollowing the hollows beneath his eyes, his cheekbones, his jaw. Peter blinksin surprise, but makes no move to pull away.

“Peter,” Tony whispers again, his voice breaking. And forthe second time that morning, Peter is being tugged into a nearly suffocatinghug.

Peter decides to just go with it, just ignore the fact thathe and Mr. Stark have hugged twice in the two years they’ve known each otherand both were after close calls in battles and this is a perfectly normalmorning, with sunshine pouring through the kitchen windows and Peter standingperplexed in his pajamas.

As he winds his arms around Tony’s waist, sinks into theembrace, he inexplicably feels his throat tighten with emotion.

He realizes now, suddenly, that he missed Tony. He missed him so much there’s an ache behind hissternum that is just now beginning to ease. And he missed May, too, missed herso much even the thought of it makes his eyes water.

But he doesn’t know why.May kissed him goodnight only the night before. He saw Tony three days ago.

He holds on tighter, tries to ease whatever longing he’sfeeling by burying his nose in Tony’s shoulder.

“Kid,” Tony says. His voice still sounds wrecked for somereason.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers into his shoulder.

Tony pulls away from him, once again trapping Peter’s facebetween his hands.

“Why are you upset?” Tony asks, brushing away the moistureclinging to Peter’s eyelashes.

“I don’t know.”

Tony nods like that’s the answer he was expecting. Peterwishes he was angry that no one is telling him anything, but mostly he’s justconfused.

“What happened?” he tries again.

Tony tilts his chin up and kisses Peter on the forehead,firm and warm. Joy sparks, quick and flammable, in his stomach, then is dousedby fear.

Tony rests their foreheads together, the fingers of his lefthand lightly trembling as they brush against Peter’s pulse.

“What happened?” he pleads, his eyes squeezed shut.

Tony pulls away from him, looks to May for an answer. Shebites her lip.

“Come sit down, sweetie,” she says, patting the couch nextto her.

He died, they tell him. He and half the universe had allvanished into dust. An entire year had passed, and then the Avengers had savedthem all, turned back the clock to the morning after it happened. It had beenthe blink of an eye for Peter. It had been over a year of mourning and grieffor everyone else.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “That must have sucked.”

May, sitting next to him, starts crying again. Tony, acrossfrom them, laughs, but there are tears caught in the creases of his cheeks.

The first time he wakes up screaming, he can’t remember whathe’d dreamt of. May reaches him first, then Tony. They’re staying in the Tower,for Mr. Stark’s sake apparently. Peter isn’t really sure.

May climbs onto his bed and shushes him, gets him a drink ofwater. Tony watches from the doorway. He assures them both that he’s fine.

May goes back to her room.

Tony goes down the hall where he thinks Peter can’t hear andhas a panic attack.

Peter, unsure of what to do, tucks his knees up to his chestunder the covers and listens, waiting until it’s over to go back to sleep.

Peter goes out to get some air. They’re doing constructionon a building near the park he’s at, digging up the foundation. A hot breezeblows a cloud of dry dust into his eyes and mouth and suddenly he’s vomiting,on his hands and knees in the grass as he chokes and chokes.

When he’s done, there are people around him. Someone offershim a water bottle, which he takes with burning cheeks. A kind looking womanwith a young face rubs his back.

“It’s ok. I know how you feel,” she says quietly. The wordsmean everything and nothing. None of them know, really. But they are allequally lost.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Sometimes Mr. Stark’s gaze slides over Peter like he can’tsee him. Peter resists the urge to scream at him, to demand that Tony looks athim, actually looks.

Today, Mr. Stark looks old. Not just older than he should,but old. He stares into the middledistance, a look like longing across his face.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, his voice trembling, though he isn’tsure why.

Tony sucks in a sharp breath.

“Kid.” He drops his head into his hands. “Could you… I’msorry, but, could you not call me that anymore?”

Peter has no idea why Mr. Stark would ask that. In all thetime they’ve known each other, the most Tony has ever done is roll his eyes atPeter’s insistence on addressing him so formally. But right now Tony is shakingand embarrassed and distant.

“Ok, sure,” Peter says. “Sorry, Tony.”

The fear in Tony’s face breaks just a little, and his eyesfocus, and for the first time all day, he looks at Peter straight on.

He smiles, sad and proud. “Come here, Pete.”

Peter approaches the chair Tony is sitting on, and becausehe feels tired and weak, he kneels on the expensive rug, leaning heavilyagainst Tony’s knee.

Tony smoothes down one of Peter’s curls. “You’re such a goodkid, Peter. I’m- I’m so happy you’rehere.”

“Then why do you always seem sad when you look at me?” Peterblurts before he fully thinks the words.

Tony freezes. Peter can hear his heartbeat pick up.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I don’t know why I said that.”

Tony curls his fingers against Peter’s jaw, massaging theshort hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m not sad,” Tony whispers.

“Tony-“

“I’m not sad,” Tony says again. It sounds true. Peter sagsagainst Tony knee, feeling frustrated and alone.

Tony leans forward and kisses Peter on the cheek. He doesthat now, touches Peter gently and intentionally, where he used to skirt a wideberth. Peter likes the affection, but he misses the way Tony’s focus used tozero in on him, like every word he said was significant. He selfishly wishes hecould have both.

School is hard. You can tell who disappeared and who didn’tjust by looking in their eyes. Half the people wander around looking confused,the other half traumatized.

Peter isn’t the first person to have a panic attack in themiddle of class, but it doesn’t make him feel better when he comes back tohimself whimpering.

When May has taken him home, and he’s curled in the cornerof the couch wearing Ben’s old hoodie, she asks what set it off.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. Even if the moments before the panicattack hadn’t been a blur, he doubts there was any real catalyst, any specificsound or smell he could identify that incited his bone deep, nearly instinctualfear.

That’s the worst part, he decides. He doesn’t know. He neverknows why he’s afraid, why he’s sad, why his skin feels too tight. He justknows that he is, that these arequickly becoming integral parts of his being.

May bundles him up and they watch a movie with his head inher lap.

She hasn’t stopped looking at him like he’s a miracle. He’sstill waiting to feel like one.

“Ned,” Peter asks where he’s laying on his back on hisfriend’s bed. It had been a long day at school, and Peter feels heavy and old.His voice is strained. Ned hums. “Am I dead?”

Ned looks at him in shock. “No, Peter.” His voice breaks,his eyes glassy with tears. “Do you feel dead?”

“No.” Tears are in Peter’s eyes, too, and he doesn’t botherwiping them away. He isn’t even sure why he’s crying.

“Then why did you ask?”

There are a lot of reasons. Breathless memories of pain andweightlessness.

“Because sometimes Mr. Stark looks at me like he misses me.”

Ned doesn’t have anything to say to that. He just sits andrubs Peter’s back as he curls into a ball and weeps.

Peter wakes up screaming.

He’s still screaming when Tony barges into his room.

It’s the third time this week that he’s woken up fromnightmares, but it’s the first time May’s been at work. She’s done her best toavoid graveyard shifts since Peter came back, but it couldn’t last forever.

Peter’s scream tapers off as Tony practically throws himselfonto Peter’s bed, snatching Peter’s wrists in both hands.

“I’m here,” Tony gasps, frantic. He pulls Peter around sohis face isn’t buried in his pillow. Peter sucks in a breath and exhales a sob.

“Why is this happening?” he hiccups. “Why do I always feellike this? Mr. Stark.”

Peter knows he isn’t supposed to call Tony that anymore, butit just slips out and he’s practically begging. Tony’s hands tighten around hiswrists and when Peter glances up through his tears, Tony’s eyes are focused onhim through the darkness, all of his attention zeroed in on Peter.

There’s a heavy stillness that makes Peter’s tears dry up inanticipation.

Tony lays down next to Peter, curled so that their kneestouch, their noses nearly brushing.

To the rhythm of Tony sweeping his thumb across Peter’sknuckles, he finally hears the truth.

“You were with me when you died.”

Peter doesn’t even have the strength to breathe.

“I tried to bench you from the fight, but you stowed away.”Tony’s voice is soft and steady and sorry.

“When we lost, we… everyone else was gone in seconds. Butyou lasted almost a minute. And you felt all of it.”

Tony isn’t crying, but Peter is. Tony moves his hand fromcounting Peter’s fingers to his cheek, carefully wiping the tears away.

“I held you.” For the first time, Tony’s voice breaks. “I heldyou until you were gone. And then I waited to vanish, too.”

The fact that he didn’t goes unspoken. Peter wonders howlong he sat there waiting before he realized.

Tony meets his gaze and for the first time since waking upall those weeks ago, Peter feels solid.

“I had to save you,” Tony whispers like an apology. “I had tosave you.”

“You did,” Peter says without having to think about. He’shere, breathing and alive and that should be impossible, but Tony decided thathe was more important than what should and shouldn’t be impossible.

“Peter,” Tony says, and now he’s crying, his breathstuttering as he presses their foreheads together. “Oh my gosh, Peter.”

Peter moves first, pulling himself into Tony’s arms. Tonycrushes him to his chest, dropping scratchy kisses to the side of his head.Peter thinks that maybe this is the first time he’s felt solid to Tony, too.

It’s like coming home again. Like half of him had still beenfloating out in space and now, finally, all his atoms have found their way back.

Peter lets Tony hold him and kiss him, just like May had. And when they do pull away, Tony looks at him like he’s a miracle.

#guess which part I cried writing guys #go on and guess #Irondad and Spiderson #MCU #Peter Parker #Tony Stark #my writing #fic #brotp: speaking of loyalty #this was supposed to be a chill weekend when I could get a long of writing done #and then I worked a twelve hour shift yesterday and had a two hour meeting after church today #ugh #@loubuttons I'm writing you're prompt next #Infinity War #pokegeek151

611 notes · View notes