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Tony Stark woke up, like clockwork, every morning at 2:00 am.
The habit had started back when Morgan was just a baby, when Tony’s life had become a patchwork of late-night feeding and soothing sessions. And somehow, even once his daughter started sleeping soundly through the night, the routine had stuck. It didn’t matter how many therapists spent hours and hours trying to coax him through the trauma, didn’t matter that Pepper installed a top-of-the-line baby monitor in the little girl’s room. He just… couldn’t shake the nagging fear that one morning he’d wake up to a crib-full of ash.
So, he checked. Did rounds. At first, Pepper had tried to convince him to stop, to relax, to trust in the mundane domesticity that they had carved out for themselves, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that it was far easier to let Tony slip down the hall and settle himself than to keep him in bed and let him stew.
Tonight was no different. He tried not to wake her up as he slipped out of bed, padded out of their room and into the familiar corridor. Morgan’s door was open just slightly, her nightlight glowing through the crack and casting a glare on the hardwood floor.
Tony peeked in, and immediately felt a part of him calm. Morgan was, of course, perfectly fine. Sleeping soundly with one arm wrapped around the stuffed elephant Rhodey had given her at her first birthday party. He could see her star-covered blanket rising and falling with each gentle breath, up, down, steady, slow, alive.
Not dust. Not ash. Just a four-year-old girl, sleeping in her bed.
He lingered for a few minutes, leaning against the wooden doorframe with his arms crossed, waiting until his anxiety quieted into a background buzz.
It was hard to leave (it always was), but he forced himself to push away and settle Morgan’s door back just as it had been. He turned, out of habit, towards his and Pepper’s room, then faltered, eyes darting slightly further down the hall. He let his instinct guide his feet, leading him to the only room left. This door was closed, but not locked, so Tony turned the handle slowly and slipped inside, trying to keep his entrance as silent as possible.
Peter’s room had only finished being renovated a few weeks ago, so it still smelled like fresh wood and new flooring. In spite of the polished smell, evidence of the kid’s habitation were everywhere. Two pairs of worn jeans were flung over the back of a desk chair. A red and black backpack was peeking out from the closet, with a pair of sneakers, still tied, tossed just a foot or so away. Tony spotted a few bags of chips on the kid’s bedside table, and smiled to himself. Always eating.
Of course, the most obvious indication of Peter’s presence was the teenager himself, who was currently curled up under his Starfleet Academy duvet. His back was to the door, but Tony only had to watch him for a handful of seconds to realize that, despite the hour, the kid was very much awake.
Maybe it was a little creepy to admit, but Tony knew Peter and Morgan’s breathing patterns better than he knew the curves of his own hands. Then again, he also had both of their social security numbers memorized and still relied on Pepper when it came to his own, so even if it was a little overprotective, it certainly wasn’t out of character.
The rhythm of Peter’s breaths were too short and deliberately placed for him to be asleep. Faking sleep, though? Yeah, they were definitely on par for that.
“Hey, kid,” he called out softly, closing the door behind him with a barely audible click.
“Hey,” Peter replied.
It took him all of five steps to get to the kid’s bed, and he settled himself down on the mattress with a badly muffled groan. All those years being Iron Man had not been kind to his body. He felt a flash of regret when Peter flinched at the sound.
“Wanna tell me why you’re not asleep right now?” He murmured, concern churning in his stomach.
Peter rolled over and stared up at him with glassy eyes, and Tony was faced with the uncomfortable realization that he’d probably been crying. “Wanna tell me why you’re creeping into my room in the middle of the night?”
“Uh, first of all, I was not creeping.”
Peter sniffled, but still managed what seemed to be genuine smile. “You were kinda creeping.”
“I own the house, Pete, I can go wherever I please.” He gave the kid’s shoulder a playful push. “Now, stop changing the subject and answer the damn question.”
The kid sighed, deflating, which was about what Tony had expected. Unlike himself, Peter rarely took any real coercion to open up. In all honesty, Peter wanted comfort, and he’d grown up in a series of households that encouraged him when he sought it out. The only block came from his own determination that he was independent now, that he could handle his own shit.
At the end of the day, though, the want for Tony to fix his problems always, always won out.
“I was just… thinking.”
“About what?”
“Stuff.”
“Very enlightening. Wanna give me details?”
Peter watched him silently for a few heartbeats. Tony stayed still, didn’t break the moment.
“Why’re you up?” He finally asked, and there was something in the kid’s tone that made Tony know he had to answer.
“I was checking on Morgan.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Sleeping, you know,” he gave Peter a gentle smile, reaching out to playfully ruffle his hair, “kinda like you ought to be doing, actually.”
“Why’d you come in here?”
Something in his chest softened. “Thought I’d check on my other kid, too. Two birds, one stone.” He let his hand rest on the top of Peter’s head, steady and grounding. “Glad I did, now. Seems like you could use a little checking on, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess I could,” Peter admitted, voice small.
“So,” he put on his patented Dad voice, “what were we thinking about?”
“Sometimes,” it seemed like Peter was choosing each one of his words carefully, pulling them apart and reordering them before actually giving them life, “it’s… a lot.”
“What do you mean by it?”
“It. This. Being… back.”
Being alive, Tony’s mind supplied, because he was dead. He died. He was dead for five years.
You mourned him.
“Yeah. I can imagine that it’s… difficult,” he whispered.
The kid let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. You can… you can say that again.” He shoved the blankets off of him in a rush. Tony could feel his agitation rising even before he started rambling, words running together in a breathless rush. “It’s just… for you, Titan was… it was five years ago. But for me, it was just… it just happened, y’know? And the end is all blurry in my head. It feels like… those moments right before… right before you fall asleep. Fuzzy and disconnected and out of control. I had Karen show me the tapes, and I don’t remember saying any of that. I don’t remember begging, or crying, or anything. I just… I just remember you holding me, and then everything went dark, and then I was waking up, and everyone was telling me that it’d been five years but for me, it was second. Seconds. It just felt like… it just felt like…”
“It just felt like you fell asleep,” Tony finished, heart aching.
Peter nodded, barely pausing long enough to breathe before rushing onward. “And now I get close to dozing off and I freak myself out and jolt awake because that’s exactly what it felt like. And I know that it’s not gonna happen again, I really do, but… but something in my brain doesn’t. It’s just… stuck on it, on repeat, and I’m so lost when I’m awake, too, because everything is different. For you guys, it’s been five years. Half a decade. May… May has a new apartment. Her favorite dress got torn in the wash three years ago. You’ve got gray hair, and you and Pepper are married, and you’ve got a daughter. Half my classmates have all graduated, some of them are married now, too. Mister Stark, a girl from my homeroom has a baby and it’s not, like, weird, because she graduated college last year and I don’t… I just… sometimes I wonder what I’m even doing here. If I even have a place in the world anymore. I… I feel so displaced. Like I’m… like me coming back wasn’t meant to happen. Like it was a mistake.”
“Alright,” he shoved his palm over the kid’s mouth to silence him, but brushed the curve of his jaw with the pad of his thumb to take some of the sting out of the restraint, “just… just hush for a second.” He paused. Took a breath. Removed his hand. “Okay, sit up. We’re about to have a gushy talk and I’d rather you be on my level while we spill our guts, sound good?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Peter pushed himself up, and Tony found himself setting a supportive hand on his back without really thinking about it. They ended up sitting cross-legged, just inches apart. Peter’s hair was all sleep-mused and wild, and Tony kept smothering to urge to mess it up more.
“You know,” he started, tiny smile pulling at his lips, “when we first bought this house, Pepper said it was too big. Said I was just… trying to fill up the space with ghosts.”
“It is big,” Peter whispered.
“It sure it. And… and she was right, actually. I was leaving room for ghosts.” He paused, worked his jaw back and forth. “What do you reckon this room was, before?”
“Before I came back?” Peter questioned, brow furrowing.
“Yeah.”
“Uh… I dunno. A guest room?”
“No.” His smile felt a little hollow now, the memories of grief flickering in the back of his mind. “It was empty.”
“What?” Peter seemed surprised, and his eyes darted around the room like he was searching for an answer in the walls. “Why?”
Tony leaned forward and brushed the kid’s bangs out of his eyes. “Because it was supposed to be your room. In my head, as soon as I saw the layout, I thought, oh, good, there’s a room for Pep and I, a room for the baby, and a room for Pete when he comes to visit. And… and even though I knew that you weren’t even gonna get to visit, it stuck, and I left it empty.”
Peter choked on a breath, eyes shining.
“There’s too many damn chairs at our dining table,” he continued, gaze locked on the kid’s, trying to pour every ounce of sincerity into him. “I bought the HBO cable package because you love Game of Thrones. I’ve got pictures of you all over the house, I know you’ve seen them. So, Pete, you wanna know where your place is? It’s with May, no matter where the apartment is. It’s in the streets of Queens. It’s in Morgan’s tent, out on the dock, in the halls of Midtown. You… you already had a place in this house long before you came back. Knowing all that, how could you ever doubt where you belong?” He poked Peter in the chest, and the kid rocked back a little with the force of it. “You belong right here.”
Right here with me.
It was like his final admission broke something invisible in the room, because suddenly Peter was launching himself into his arms, jamming his face into the crook of his neck, taking desperate fistfuls of the back of his sleepshirt. He can feel the kid’s breaths against his skin, warm and slightly shaky.
“I love you too, Mister Stark,” he muttered, words muffled but processing crystal clear in Tony’s mind.
“Uh,” he couldn’t even bring himself to put any weight behind his defense, “I don’t remember saying that, exactly.”
“You really didn’t have to.”
And, no, he supposed he didn’t, because it was true. He loved Peter. It was barely even a secret anymore, even if it was unspoken.
“Alright, alright,” he gave the kid’s back a solid pat, “c’mon, it’s time for phase two.”
Peter pulled back. “What’s phase two?”
“It starts with you laying down again.” He stared pointedly until the kid tentatively followed the implicit direction. “Perfect. Now, I’m gonna sit right here,” he settled down with his back pressed against Peter’s headboard and stretched out his legs with a contented groan, “until you fall asleep.”
“You don’t have to do that, y’know.”
“Oh, yes, I’m aware.” He smothered a smile when the kid finally settled down just inches from his thigh. He was staring up at him through dark eyelashes, uncertain and frighteningly young. “Now, close your eyes.”
Peter blinked up at him, shifting ever-so-subtly.
“Hey,” he laid his palm against the kid’s forehead, “I just admitted my undying love for you. Have a little trust, okay?”
The kid grinned and let his eyes flutter shut. “Okay.”
“Good boy. Now, don’t worry about falling asleep for a second. Just listen to me. I’m gonna be asking you questions, too, so stay sharp.”
He could see Peter roll his eyes behind his closed eyelids. “Sure.”
“Alright. Good. So, first of all,” he used the pad of his thumb to rub soothing circles over the kid’s temple, “what happened with Thanos is never going to happen again, you hear me? Steve took the Stones back to their own universes, and the purple bastard got rid of the ones that belonged here. And I destroyed the time travel tech, Pete. I destroyed it. Wiped it from F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s archives. All that shit? It’s over. It’s over. We clear?”
“Yeah,” Peter whispered.
He dropped his voice into something low, hypnotic. It was the same tone he used to soothe Morgan to sleep: the Stark version of a lullaby. Tony had learned how to put a kid down for the count before they even realized what was happening.
He just hoped it worked on Spider-teens as well as ornery four-year-olds.
“When you wake up,” he murmured, “it’ll be tomorrow,” a pause, “or, rather, today, since you don’t know how to sleep like a normal person.” Peter let out an exhausted laugh in response. “It’ll be June 11th. That’s a Sunday. Yesterday was Saturday, and tomorrow will be Monday. No crazy time skips, no alien planets, no fighting in wars you’re too young to understand. Just this bed, and this house, and this timeline.” He hated that this was the world Peter lived in, hated that this child was already plagued with nightmares and PTSD and the bone-crushing truth that the world was anything but kind. “It’s just sleep, Peter. That’s all it is. You’re just going to sleep.”
Peter’s voice was small, young, It reminded him of the tone Morgan used when she asked him to check for monsters under her bed. Trusting, beseeching. “But how do I know that?”
“Because I’m right here,” he said easily, shrugging despite the fact that the kid couldn’t see it. Then again, with his creepy sixth sense, Tony wouldn’t be surprised in he sensed it somehow. “I’m never going to let anything like that happen to you again. It’s a personal mission, actually. Call me crazy.” He paused his fingers against Peter’s hairline. “Do you trust me?”
There wasn’t even a moment hesitation. “Of course.”
“Then trust me,” he said softly, tone pleading. “Tomorrow is going to be tomorrow. You’re gonna wake up in the morning, the sun’ll be in the sky. Morgan’ll probably be running up and down the hall. Pepper and I will be cooking breakfast. Probably bacon, I think. You want bacon or sausage in the morning?”
“I like bacon.”
“Then we’ll make bacon. We’ll all eat together. You can help cut up Morgan’s pancakes. And it’s a lake day, so Rhodey and Happy’ll get here pretty soon after, and then we’ll go out on the boat. You ever been tubing before, Pete?”
“Hm? No, I don’t think so.”
Huh. Still intelligible answers, although he could definitely pick up some the tension in Peter’s shoulders starting to release. He had to step up his game, then. That was fine. He could do that.
“It’s fun.” Tony slipped his hand over the top of Peter’s head and settled it firmly against the back of his neck, gently tugging him closer until his forehead was pressed up against his thigh. “I have to take it easy when Morgan’s riding, but I’ll put you and Happy on and pour everything I’ve got into throwing you two off.”
He could feel the warm puffs of Peter’s breaths slowing against his leg. “But ‘m sticky.”
“Yeah, well, we’re gonna test just how sticky, don’t you worry.” He went back to tracing lazy patterns through the kid’s hair, trying to morph everything he said into a lulling rhythm. “I think Rhodey wants to barbecue when we get back. You and Morgan can each have a sippy cup of soda with dinner. Does that sound nice?”
Peter slipped an arm up and tangled drowsy fingers in the fabric of Tony’s sweatpants. “Mean.”
“Oh, shh. I’m just kidding,” he soothed. “We can watch Star Wars after Morgan goes to bed, if you want. I’m sure I can convince Rhodey, and Happy’s so glad you’re back that he’d probably agree to go ice skating if you wanted to.” Peter let out a deep breath, face scrunching up in a way that Tony knew he wouldn’t do if he was fully conscious, and he knew he’d won. “I was thinking we could take a trip to Tennessee later this month, by the way. Visit Harley. I can show you Nashville. Oh, and Morgan wants to make brownies before you go back to the city next week. Do brownies sound good to you, kid?”
He got a soft snore in response.
“Well, I’ll take your word for it,” he smiled, letting all of his attention fall to Peter’s smooth face, “although I’m not sure how I feel about the way you phrased it. Wanna run it past me again?”
Nothing. Not even a twitch in response. The kid was out.
“There we go,” he found even more fondness leaking into his voice as he slid out of Peter’s grip, “that wasn’t so bad, huh? No more weird time travel for us. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
He gently maneuvered Peter into a more comfortable position as he rambled, tucking his arms closer to his body and laying his head up on his pillow. The kid didn’t even twitch at the movements, just slept on in a way that suggested to Tony that this rest was long overdue.
“You know,” he muttered, wrestling with Peter’s weight while trying desperately not to disturb him, “this is much easier with Morgan. She’s a lot less gangly.”
He knew, logically, that Peter was definitely a little old to be tucked in, but it was the motion that his hands naturally followed once he’d settled the kid to his satisfaction. It was nice, anyway, to do something for Peter that he did for Morgan. He liked sharing these moments, these little domesticities. It was one of the things he’d regretted, during those five grief-blurred years, that he hadn’t fully submitted himself to the parental instincts that had bloomed whenever he was in the same room as Peter.
He’d never let a chance slip by, now. This kid was his kid. Hell, the only reason that the universe was stitched back together again was because Tony just couldn’t live with Peter Parker dead.
There was no escaping the relationship at this point. And, honestly, he really didn’t want to.
He was going to love this child until the last breath left his body, and he was going to make sure that Peter never doubted that love for even a single second.
“There,” he leaned forward once he’d finished tucking the kid’s comforter up to his chin, unconsciously swiped a few baby hairs out of his face, “that’s better, huh?” He swallowed. “Dad’s gonna go get some sleep of his own, alright? I’ll just be down the hall.”
There were a few seconds where he just lingered, twisting his next action around in his head before settling on it with a shrug.
Why the hell not?
He pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Dream about Queens,” he whispered as he pulled away, smoothing a few curls back behind the kid’s ear, “or about building Legos with Ned, or that scary MJ girl you’re hopelessly in love with.” He smiled at the memory of Peter’s eyes glittering when he talked about her. “Something a kid would dream about, yeah? Just… just dream like a kid, buddy. Just for a bit, dream like a little kid.”
Just stay a child for a little while longer. Please.
He peeked back in on Morgan on the walk back to his room. She was still fine, still asleep. She’d flipped to her other side while he’d been with Peter, but that was about the only change he could identify.
Pepper, on the other hand, was awake when he slipped back into their room, watching the door with sleep-squinted eyes.
“Hey, honey.” He slipped under their comforter with a hint of guilt. “Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I wasn’t worried.” She pulled him close, cupped his cheek with a soft hand. “You were gone longer than usual. Is Peter okay?”
“He couldn’t sleep.”
Pepper’s brow furrowed, motherly concern in every inch of her face. “Nightmares?”
He shrugged. “Probably. He’s out like a light now, though. That’s what took me so long.”
She smiled, kissed him, lazy and slow. “Well done,” she whispered as she pulled back. “You’re a natural.”
“Mm,” he settled down against his pillow, tucked her underneath his chin, “Tony Stark: lullaby extraordinaire.”
“That’s a wonderful nickname. Very fitting.”
“So it is.”
He felt Pepper slip a hand up his shirt and lightly trace scars on his sternum. It was strange, how they’d made him uncomfortable at first. Now, he’d grown used to them. Accepted them as a part of who he was, a reminder of what he could never become again.
A relic of the past. A promise that the future would be so much better.
“Close your eyes, Tony,” Pepper murmured, palm laying flat against his chest. “Your babies are both alright. You can rest now.” She tilted her head up and kissed the bottom on his jaw. “You can rest.”
He believed her, too. He had Pepper in his arms, his children sleeping safe and warm in their beds. Rhodey and Happy would be there in the morning, as boisterous and obnoxious as usual. Everyone he loved was fine. They were here, they were alive, and they were fine.
He’d finally found his peace.