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Occasionally, Tony wonders how much he resembles Sherlock Holmes. He drinks a lot more than what’s probably healthy and he thinks faster than other people around him. Though, he is of the opinion that everyone deserves a chance, not all deserve kindness. He likes being alone, tinkering, and losing track of the days. He actually enjoys fucking up his sleeping patterns, since it means he’s being productive. He’s in a flow. He’s busy.
Right now, he’s absolutely certain he’s Sherlock Holmes. The only reason being this one single thought that keeps bouncing through his head every time he scoffs and rereads the article in front of him. People are idiots. Tony would love to have a Watson by his side, but unfortunately for him, his soulmate has yet to show their face. Speaking of soulmates, the article is about just that.
Seven years ago, a “study” found that people who get incredibly close to death, meet their soulmate in their minds. People described them as an angel in the darkness, a light at the end of the tunnel. The idea alone made Tony want to hurl. It’s stupid. Bullshit. Soulmates aren't real. Those people who cheated death claim that some rando they meet is the one they saw when they nearly died. That they belong together. People cheated over this, saying that the person they saw when they died looked nothing like their current partner, or maybe like another friend. The study ripped apart tons of marriages and while that’s partially why Tony thinks people are idiots, there is another reason. The reason that is in the article he’s reading.
Death therapy. Jesus Christ, who even came up with that shit? More and more people want to know who their soulmate is. If who they are with now is the right person. If they will ever meet them. If they already lost them. And so, they try to almost die. Drug abuse, waterboarding, even playing with electrical equipment and guns. Idiots. People are idiots. And this whole article is about some kind of soulmate cult where groups of twenty all try to get as close to death as they can just so they can get a glimpse of what their soulmate looks like. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID.
The people who organize those things are predators, aiming to get as much money out of people as they possibly can. Let them sign wavers that if they do die, which happens ninety percent of the time, the cult can’t be held accountable. Death rates have risen significantly since the study came out and it’s insane. Soulmates don’t exist and nearly dying for the sake of having a looksie at the true love of your life is psychotic. A money-grab, to scam people who are extremely gullible. And oh, boy, are there many gullible people on this hell of an earth. If only they knew all this crap was fake. So many innocent lives would be spared.
Sure, Tony zapped himself every now and then. Occupational hazard. But as of yet, he hasn’t come close enough to death to object the study with facts. And though he is a curious man by nature, he’s not that curious. His Watson will show up on their own time. And if they don’t? They don’t. Whatever. Tony can tinker all he likes. He’s content in his lab. Even if it’s a little quiet sometimes...
...
Afghanistan. The deal was supposed to be the greatest Tony had ever shook hands on. And then everything went to shit. The missile. The explosion. Darkness. And then a fuck ton of pain, clawing at his chest. He could hear someone screaming but he wasn’t sure who. Was it… Was he screaming? God, it hurt. Ached. Burned. Scratched. He was gasping for air and he wasn’t sure if his body could hold out any longer- if
he
could hold out any longer.
“Hello, there? Sir?” A small voice asks. Tony gasps and writhes, turning on his stomach before crawling up to be met with a boy. Pale skin, brown hair and brown eyes. Cute. “Are you okay? Mister?” Tony brings his hand to his chest in an attempt to feel where the horrific pain is- was? It’s gone. He’s fine. When did that happen? Is he… Is he dying? Or is he already dead?
“Hey, there, kid,” he sighs, somehow grateful that the hell he was in has passed. He doesn’t exactly want the child to be part of his panic, so he takes a glance at his seemingly infinite surroundings and casually asks his question. “Where are your parents?” The boy looks around, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows. He then turns to stare at Tony with his big eyes.
“I dunno.” Tony moves so that he’s at eye level with the boy and studies him.
It’s only then that it dawns on him that…
Oh, God.
Nope. No, this isn’t real. It’s stupid and fake and there’s no way this little kid could be his soulmate. It’s just his dying brain, giving him
something
to work with before he vanishes into nothingness. Normally, he wouldn’t get anywhere near children. They were quite the liability and honestly the epitome of contrast to his bombostuous life. His biggest fear has always been one of his bed partners showing up on his doorstep, carrying a baby.
His
baby. He has no time for that. Or well, had. Since it’s his last moments alive, he might as well indulge the imaginary kid.
“How old are you?” The boy thinks for a second and then looks at his hands. He raises one, fingers stretched out, and then the other; just a thumbs up.
“Six!”
“Six?” Tony smiles. “That’s a
big
number.”
“Mhm!” The boy nods aggressively. “Need two hands now.” He waves his little fist around and grins. He then looks down at his hands and looks back up. “How many hands do you need?”
“A couple more than you do, kid,” Tony scoffs.
“So, you’re like,
really
old?” Ugh. Kids.
“Old enough to be your dad.”
“You’re not, though!”
“Thank God, no.”
Tony sits down on his butt and pats the floor next to him.
“Mind doing me a favor, kid?” The boy sits down next to him and pulls in his legs, resting his head on top of them.
“Depends, Mister. I’m not actually allowed to talk to strangers.” He thinks for a second and then continues. “And you’re about as strange as it gets.”
“Is that a compliment?” Tony chuckles.
“Depends on who you ask.” The reply has Tony scoff a laugh, louder, and he throws his head back.
This kid…
“Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” The boy doesn’t reply. Instead, he hides his face to laugh himself. “So, the favor...” Tony starts, trying to get back the boy’s attention.
“Hm?”
“Just… Be kind, okay? If you really are out there… Life’s too short to-”
Tony opens his eyes, confused. He takes a second to assess his location. He’s lying on something hard and uncomfortable and there’s this dull, continuous ache in his chest. He groans when he realizes…
Guess I’m not dying anytime soon.
...
He was terrifically wrong about that. The organization that put him and Yinsen in that cave were absolute monsters. Tony knew better than to struggle a dozen men with big guns unarmed, but when they brought him to the trough with water, he fought nonetheless. His head was pushed in. His body convulsed and though his brain was telling him to stay calm and simply hold his breath, he kept fighting the aggression from his captors. It wasn’t long before he saw flashes again. Of the same boy.
“Mister?” The voice was muffled through the water in Tony’s ears. He wanted to yell at the boy, to look away from the trauma and ensure his safety, but whenever the kid became clear enough in his mind’s eye, he was pulled from the water for air, and then pushed back in, to start the process all over again…
Nobody was to know. He wasn’t going to tell anyone about this… Unnamed boy in his lucid dream. Nothing happened. He didn’t even say what his captors did to him, though with the arc reactor now glowing in his chest, people assumed the worst. If they asked him whether or not he saw someone, his answer was always the same.
“No.”
Tony regretted not asking the kid for his name, but then, everything would’ve become too personal anyways. And soulmates aren't real. Even though Tony had seen the boy on multiple occasions at this point. He should just stop almost dying, to be honest. Though, with his new job as Iron Man, he wasn’t sure if he could hold off on that. He ignored the boy’s worried touch on his thigh when he was paralyzed after his ex-business partner/mentor ripped out his new heart. He tried to tune out the encouraging words as he crawled down to his lab to push the old one back in. The boy was only a figment of his imagination. He couldn’t be real. He. Isn’t. Real.
...
Palladium poisoning. Great stuff. You know what’s even greater? Being haunted by the ghost of an eleven-year-old. Tony never got close enough to death to even be able to say hi to the kid and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful or disappointed. The boy was still smaller than average. Clumsy, even. His glasses were cute, though. Red and gold. Iron Man themed. Adorable. He squeezed his eyes, trying to look through them. Maybe they were the wrong prescription?
The first time Tony saw him was when he was in the bathroom. In true horror-style fashion, the nerdy boy appeared in the mirror. When Tony yelped and turned, the kid was gone. He then appeared for a brief moment on the side of the road when Tony was racing the Formula One. The billionaire nearly crashed his car when he did his double take. From then on, everywhere Tony went, the oblivious boy would be by his side. Not being dead enough to talk to the kid, also meant he wasn’t dead enough for the kid to see him. It was torturous to see the boy play and learn and grow without being able to be a part of it. Funnily enough, Tony still didn’t like children. He just… He liked the boy. And no, it wasn’t because the kid was his soulmate. Soulmates aren't real.
...
Tony was certain flying the nuke into the wormhole would be a one way trip. He’d see the boy one last time, maybe even be able to say goodbye and satiate his need to know the boy’s name, before he’d kick the bucket. At least he’d die peacefully, knowing he stopped an alien war on earth and therefore protected the boy. Twelve. He should be twelve now. Why Tony even bothered to remember the kid’s age, he didn’t know.
“Mr. Stark?” Tony’s vision blurs, the alien spaceship fading to black as his muscles lose tension and his suit gives up on him. He falls. But he doesn’t.
“Yeah, kid, I’m here. For the last time.” Tony frowns as he pulls in his legs, seated on the floor. He sniffs once and looks up to see the boy sitting across from him. “Hopefully.”
“Wait, you want to die?” The question was awfully direct, which makes Tony scoff.
“I’ve seen you so often now…” The barely dead billionaire glances to the side. “That can’t be healthy.” He purses his lips. “Also, the healing process of coming back from the dead is a pain in my butt. Pardon my French.”
“I like seeing you.” The boy fiddles with his fingers and looks down shyly.
“Do you really see me? Like, for real real?”
“I’m dreaming. It feels real, but I don’t talk about it with anyone.” The boy cocks his head and raises his shoulders casually. “I think we both think we’re each other’s imagination.”
“Well, we are, aren’t we?”
“Definitely.” The kid nods aggressively. He crosses his legs and looks at Tony through his long lashes. “Nobody believed me when I said I think you’re my soulmate because I dream about you. Then again, nobody nearly dies as often as you do.” They both chuckle, but the sound quickly fades. “They just think I idolize you a little too much.” The boy frowns and then straightens his back. “I mean, I do idolize you, I- I think you’re a genius! Your papers on Artificial Intelligence are groundbreaking-”
“Kid- you’re twelve, you shouldn’t even be able to read those.”
“I…” The boy presses his lips on top of each other. “The books I have to read at school are boring.” He almost seems guilty about saying it.
“Those papers are filled with big words, though. You understand all of it?” Tony stares at the boy in awe.
“I Google things I don’t know, but context usually explains a lot.”
A short, stunned silence settles between the two of them. Tony can barely believe how smart this boy is. He calls Tony a genius, yet he is a genius himself. People who graduated university, specialized in Artificial Intelligence, ask Tony to clarify his papers. So either the boy is messing with him, trying to seem big, or he’s actually incredibly bright. The thought alone makes Tony reminisce about the first time he met the boy, when he still had to use two hands to show Tony how old he was. That was six years ago. Six. He’s fairly certain the boy is a terrible liar, though. And he’s not lying now.
Tony’s eyes open wide, every muscle in his body clenches at the sound of the Hulk’s roar right next to him. There was so much he still wanted to ask the boy. At least he was still alive. Maybe he’ll find him and if not, Tony hopes he’ll near-die again soon.
...
He didn’t expect his own Malibu house crashing down on him and forcing him into the sea to drown being the way he’d go. He’d never been in a worse situation than this. There was no one there to save him. He’d die, never having met his soulmate. Who knows, maybe they’ll meet again in the afterlife, one day. Tony closes his eyes and lets the quiet wash over him as his suit shuts down.
The silence is broken by a quiet sob. The sound brings Tony back to the half-afterlife present and he opens his eyes. The boy is sitting right in front of him again, crying visibly and audibly.
“Hey, hey-” Tony moves forward to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t want you to die, Mister Stark.”
“What makes you think it’s for real this time?”
“You just said it yourself,” he sobs. “There’s no one to save you now.”
“You heard that?” The boy nods, face twisted.
“Well, since I’m still here, I’m not gone yet,” Tony tries with a smile. The boy looks up, tears streaming down his face and shoulders slightly shaking. His red cheeks puff and he sniffs.
“We haven’t even met-” The boy squeezes his eyes shut and pushes in, hugging Tony’s chest tightly. The man raises his arms in surprise, but hearing the kid sob, breaks his heart in ways he never thought possible. He embraces the boy and rests his head on top of his. “I can’t lose you too.”
“Too?” Tony’s voice cracks and he clears his throat, trying to remain composed.
“M-my parents-” Oh, no. Tony immediately pushes the boy away from his chest and ducks his head, forcing the boy to look in his eyes.
“Kid, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I’m going to meet you, ‘kay? Give me your name and I’ll find you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” The boy takes a second to collect himself and Tony wipes his tears with the sleeve of his shirt.
“My name’s P-”
The second it dawned on Tony that he was still alive, but without the knowledge of the boy’s name, he wanted to cry. And so he did. He was in snowy Tennessee. Many, many miles from home. Who knows, maybe P is somewhere around here? This couldn’t be a coincidence anymore. The boy has to be real. And Tony left him alone. Truly and utterly alone. Just as he is right now. He sobbed quietly as Jarvis shut down. It wasn’t long before he stood up, hugging himself, making the resolute decision that wherever he was, whatever was going to happen, he was going to live. For P.
...
Harley filled up the hole P had left for the short while they spent together. Tony learned to care for him, but it wasn’t the same. All he could think about was the other brown-haired boy in the back of his mind. His soulmate. His P. After the whole Mandarin situation was dealt with, there was no way he could go looking for the now thirteen-year-old without seeming like a creep. P. That was all he knew about him. His name started with a P. First name? Last name? Nothing narrowed it down. He had to let it rest. He simply had to. But he couldn’t. For the first time in his life he felt like the people he once called idiots. But he couldn’t afford to die. Not with the boy out there waiting for him. And so, he shut the tab on his tablet, linked to the Death Therapy site. Maybe he wasn’t Sherlock Holmes after all. If only he could find his Watson.
...
Sokovia was hell. He got so close to seeing his boy again. So close. But not close enough. He tried to reach for P, but their encounter was cut short.
“Mr. Stark! Mr-” P yelled. “I’m P-! Don’t go, please! Please! My name-”
“Kid!”
“P-t-” It was torturous. Tony wished he could go back to when he didn’t care. When he didn’t think the boy was actually real. But he couldn’t. P is out there. Somewhere. And by God, Tony would find him. Whatever it takes.
...
Spider-boy. Whoever it was, the web-slinger caught Tony’s attention. A young hero, wanting to help out the little guy. He was young, though. And so, Tony felt the need to be a mentor. To guide the young man into becoming the hero everyone would root for. That and whatever the boy was wearing was absolutely unsafe for the job. Tony wanted to give the kid something he could work with to make it all safer for everyone. Plus, he needs someone Steve would go easy on, should Berlin go South. Pepper did most of the research and the phone call went by quickly. Tony didn’t really feel like talking anyways.
“Alright, so he lives on 15th street. I’ve texted you the building and the address.”
“Thanks, Pep.” Little did she know Tony was already at the front door.
“Oh, and his name is-”
“Bye, Pep.” He hung up and knocked.
The door was opened by a lovely woman in her late forties. Of course, she immediately recognized him and let him in, offering him a seat on the couch.
“My nephew is probably your biggest fan,” she yelps, clapping her hands with excitement. “You are here for him right? He applied to your scholarship a couple weeks ago.”
“Yes!” Tony clears his throat. “That’s exactly what I’m here for.” He raises his eyebrows and continues his lie. “He got the scholarship, so I wanted to let him know personally. As I… eh, I do with all other people who got it.” Not every hero shares their identity with the ones they’re close with. It’d be better for Spider-guy if Tony played it safe.
...
Not much later, the door opened again. Tony looked up with a smile, knowing it’d be the friendly neighborhood hero he was going to recruit. His expression faltered when he saw the boy’s face. His boy’s face. P. That’s P.
“Ah, perfect timing!” May exclaims cheerfully. “Look who’s here to see you!” Tony blinks and clutches his chest. He’s having a heart attack, isn’t he? He’s dying. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.
Peter seems just as taken aback, seeing the billionaire of his dreams - quite literally - on the couch with his aunt. After a short while of amazed silence, May breaks it.
“What’s up with you two all of a sudden? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost!” They can’t help ignoring her. Tony slowly stands up and shuffles closer to the boy who drops his backpack to the floor.
“Mr-”
“Say your name-” Tony whispers, inching closer and closer until he invades Peter’s personal space. “Please, tell me your name.” Peter looks up at him, wide-eyed, flustered. His lips part, but he swallows before he speaks.
“Peter. My name is Peter Parker.” P. Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. Holy- It fits. Everything fits. Sherlock has found his Watson. Everything feels so insanely right in this moment.
Tony slowly raises one hand, placing it on Peter’s fast beating heart. Peter curls both hands around Tony’s and opens their palms, sandwiching Tony’s hand between his.
“Need three hands,” Peter mutters. “Four soon.” He moves his hands to Tony’s chest, feeling the scar of where his arc reactor used to be push through the fabric of his dress shirt. “You’re not dying again, are you?” Peter asks quietly, almost scared.
“No, kid,” Tony sighs. Content. Finally. “I think this is real.”