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idyllicstarker · 4 years

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Their baby • Starker

Warnings: Stillborn death (death of a baby), graphic description of self harm (cutting), majpr character suicide, not a happy ending - I’m going to say graphic, although I don’t think it’s that bad just because I don’t want to end up triggering someone, and so I’m going to cover myself.

“Peter..”

The familiar voice rang out through the house - concerned and fearful, as the man called out for his husband. Rather than finding Peter’s small body curled up on the couch where he’d left him, he was met with a small dip in the material, and the fading heat of his presence left to sit alone.

Tony. Peter recognised the voice, and yet couldn’t attach himself to the gentle huskiness of it, far too detached from reality. Far too sunk in his own head to pull himself out so easily.

Legs tucked underneath him, back against the wall, he closed his eyes tight. A single stray tear began to fall silently down his pale cheeks at the pressure; lips pressed tightly together in an attempt to not cry out. His head told him to make a sound, any at all, to put the poor man out of his misery, but the dull ache in his chest stopped him.

Yet Tony didn’t need to look far, he didn’t need to ask FRIDAY which room Peter had disappeared to, as Tony knew instantly where his broken lover had gone.

He knew leaving to go to the store for even twenty minutes was a risk because he knew those twenty minutes of silence and isolation would leave Peter closing in on himself - regressing back to that numb state of feeling nothing and yet feeling everything at the same time.

But Peter had wanted ice cream.

Setting the two pints of cookie dough down on the coffee table, he climbed the stairs. As soon as he reached the door, he took a deep breath. It was slightly cracked open, the first time in weeks that the room saw any activity from the day Tony had shut and locked it. Apparently he hadn’t hidden the key very well.

Pushing it open, he stepped inside. It was exactly how he’d left it. The white bookshelf he’d hung on the wall, the newly fitted dresser in the corner, the fluffy rug under the rocke, and, of course, the crib. The crib that should be full of life, and yet had simply only been collecting dust. The only thing that had been moved, was the small iron man plushie that had been placed inside. It was now cradled to Peter’s chest. He was so small and vulnerable in the unoccupied bedroom, and if Tony’s heart wasn’t already shattered, he may well have begun to cry. He didn’t like stepping inside here either, he didn’t like seeing his husband like this, but he had to be strong, for Peter’s sake.

“Baby?”, he whispered out hoarsely, tentatively approaching Peter. He had been funny about touch lately. Some days he’d cry bloody murder if Tony came anyhwwre near him, other days he’d want nothing more than to just be helf, comforted, made to feel something other than complete sadness. Tony had thought today was a good idea - apparently he was wrong.

Peter still hadn’t replied, but he hadn’t made a move to shuffle away from the approaching man either. So Tony took it as some sort of consent to kneel down before him, worried eyes searching over his face.

“Hun you know you shouldn’t have come in here, it was only going to hurt you…”

At that, Peter’s eyes squeezed tighter shut, and more tears took their chance to fall. Tony sighed softly, placing his hands over Peter’s cold ones.It took a total of five minutes of gentle caressing to his knuckles, for Peter to release his grip on the plushie. Gently Tony took it from his hands, placing it down on the floor.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Peter would go silent, and wouldn’t speak. If this time was like the others, this would be the last bit of emotion Tony would see from him, for another week. Until finally Peter would break down. Trembling and sobbing in Tony’s arms, and the whole process would start again.

That’s why he no longer tried to get Peter to speak. Instead he gently lifted him into his arms, and carried him to their own bedroom. He laid Peter in bed, ice cream forgotten and left to melt, as he tucked the boy against his chest. Slow gentle hands ran through his hair, until finally Peter fell asleep. He was different from Tony in that way: Tony didn’t sleep, couldn’t remember the last time he did. And it showed. Eyes red and swollen with exhaustion, dull, any brightness or life had completely died along with his happiness. Peter, on the other hand, slept more.Although he never usually managed to explain it himself, Tony presumed it was because when he slept, he didn’t feel, and Peter didn’t want to feel anymore.

Tony had been right. The breakdown happened exactly eight days later. Eight days of caring for a completely unresponsive Peter, eight days of no conversation, or sight to the outside world. That was for two reasons. One: He was scared if he left the house, he’d have come back and lost Peter too. Two: The only person Peter wanted around him was Tony, anytime someone else tried to come in he’d lock himself away and scream if they tried to get in. Tony understood in a way, but Tony needed comfort too, and Peter was isolating him, depriving him of it (as he wasn’t fit to give it himself) and that hurt. He knew it wasn’t intentional, Peter wouldn’t deliberately want to hurt Tony like this. At least that’s what he was telling himself… but it became much harder when his breakdown did eventually come.

“Why are you doing this?”

Tony looked up from the stove where he was making soup, eyebrows furrowed together as he turned to look at the saddened, yet angry expression on Peter’s face. It almost wavered seeing how tired and older Tony looked, but remained stoic for the most part. It was the first time Peter had said anything more then ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“Doing what sweetheart?” he asked gently, setting down the wooden spoon in order to move closer so that he could sit down and talk with Peter, but the boy let out an anguished cry causing Tony to freeze and hold his hands up to show he wouldn’t go any closer.

“You’re acting like everything’s okay, do you have no heart?”

The shaky, breathy comment came from Peter’s mouth without question. And Tony didn’t think he’d ever hated Peter, but right now, he came very close.

“Peter…”, he began slowly, trying to remain calm because if he didn’t, he would cry, and Tony had willed everything in him, to not cry, “Of course I have a heart. I’m trying to stay like this because you need me. If I was even the slightest bit emotional, you’d be dead because all I’ve done is care for you-”

“LIES! If you cared, you’d show it..”

“I can’t show it, because then we’d both be nothing-”

“I bet you didn’t even care. I bet he meant nothing to you..”

A loud bang shook the room. Tony’s palm laying flat on the table, slowly twitching and turning red from the force of it striking the table. Silence.

Peter began to whimper, but for once, Tony couldn’t hold back.

“How dare you”, he hissed, ignoring the way Peter’s bottom lip began to tremble, as he began to recite “I’m sorry’s”, but Tony refused to listen - he deserved to feel too.

“Of course I cared about him. He was my baby too Peter! Did you forget that? You selfish little boy. I was there too when Pepper was giving birth. I was there too, crying because he was silent. I held the cold lifeless body of OUR baby in my arms just like you did! I felt the death of him too, the loss of our damn baby. But I can’t even mourn him because I have to be strong otherwise you wouldn’t be alive either right now. So don’t you dare say I didn’t care!”

It had been their first fight since Pepper, their surrogate, delivered the stillborn baby. They hadn’t named him yet. Peter wanted to see what he looked like to give him a name that was fitting. It hurt too much to name him now, so he was just their baby, and yet it seemed to Peter, he was the only one that lost a part of him that day.

Tony watched as Peter’s trembling form tried to reach out to him, sobbing and crying but Tony couldn’t hold him, not right now. Instead he walked slowly from the room. He may as well just be a ghost with the lack of life in his movements.

So long of holding it in had taken a toll on Tony’s body. Peter tried, tried so hard to get in, but Tony’s walls were up, and they weren’t coming down anytime soon.

A month, two, three passed. Neither of them were better, no one expected them to be, but Tony’s words had been a wake up call for Peter. He tried harder. When May offered to go on a walk with Peter to the park, he accepted. Tony gave a weak smile, saying he was tired, and he didn’t want to join. He’d clean whilst they were gone. Neither of the two realised the mistake they were making by believing him. A gentle hug for May, and a kiss to the lips from Peter. He kept him in his arms for a good five minutes, before Peter laughed, and gently pulled away “I’ll be back soon Tony”, he reassured - Tony laughed emptily.

The moment the door clicked into place, Tony walked lifelessly to his office. Sitting down he began to write. A letter for Pepper (he wanted to apologize, after all, she delivered the baby, she was hurt too), a letter for the rest of the avengers (a thank you, for their help), a letter for Harley (he loved the kid like a son, apparently the only one he’d ever have), and a letter for Rhodey - the man that always persisted Tony took care of himself. He was sorry for not doing it this time. The last he wrote was Peter’s. It reassured him that this wasn’t his fault, but Tony couldn’t take this any longer. He loved him, and he was sorry, but he needed to be selfish this one time.

An hour was all it took. Words came easy when they were the last ones you’d ever speak. He didn’t cry, he was far too numb for that.

They’d be back soon. So taking the letters, he set them down on the coffee table, before moving to the bathroom. There wasn’t any hesitation at all. He needed to do this.

His hands didn’t shake as he made the cuts, deep slashes of pain against his skin. He didn’t blink twice at the blood that pooled down his arms. He didn’t cry out as he fell to his knees dizzily, before slowly his eyes closed.

By the time Peter and May returned, it was too late. And Peter’s howl of Tony’s name upon entering the bathroom, and seeing the man, not breathing, in a pool of his own blood, shook the silent house to its core.

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylar writes

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