this fic is written as if this were the used take
Tony breathed shallowly, a rock that had formerly been a part of the Avengers compound digging into his back. He assessed his wounds but found that the worst of all was the gnawing concern he had felt since the portals had opened.
In passing, he had seen Hope and Scott reunite, Bucky and Steve fight back to back, and Groot and Rocket skewer and blast Thanos’ army. Tony had seen so many of the dusted superheroes, some he had never met, but he had yet to see the one that he fought tooth and nail to get back.
Tony’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, something pulling at his heart.
Peter sprinted, nearly tripping on the exposed rock in his efforts to get to Tony. “You will not believe what’s been going on,” Peter breathed. As Peter helped him to his feet, Tony couldn’t help but notice how pale Peter looked, how red the rims of his eyes were.
What mattered most was that Peter was there, Peter was alive, standing in front of him. “Do you remember that we were in space just a minute ago and then I like vanished and… What’s all that gray stuff in your hair?”
Tony wanted to laugh, to say that a lot has changed in five years but his immense relief and love clouded any shred of humor. His breath was shakier than he would’ve liked. “It’s just gray hair.”
Peter’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, that’s okay, I’m sorry.” Before Tony could tell him that he never needed to apologize again, ever, Peter kept rambling, pointing somewhere off to the side. “Anyway, Doctor Strange was there when I got back, right? And he gave us this big briefing… on how to…”
Tony used one hand to draw Peter into a hug. “What are you doing?” Peter asked cautiously.
Something I’ve wanted to for five years, Tony thought, patting Peter’s back. He was there, wholly there, not going to turn to ash under his fingertips this time, ever again. Peter melted under his touch, resting his head in the crook of Tony’s shoulder.
The two stood there, breathing, and Tony felt a sense of peace. Peter was there, Peter was okay.
Tony lifted his head to kiss the side of Peter’s neck. Peter’s grip tightened on Tony and he sharply noticed that Peter was a kid. Sure, he’d noticed it before but now, as they clung to each other, as Peter had started to cry (whether from relief or fear he didn’t know) he was so painfully aware.
“I love you,” Tony whispered. There were people around them fighting but the words were only meant for Peter and only Peter heard them.
Superhero life was unsteady, unreliable. Tony always knew to an extent—he had seen his friends get hurt, the woman who was now his wife scared beyond belief, the kid he thought of as a son die in his arms.
They had fleeting moments together and Tony learned to relish in them, in the security, in the love that he felt.
So when he saw Peter’s tear-stained face kneeling in front of him after Thanos’ army finally dusted, when he heard Peter’s desperate “we won, Mr. Stark,” he wanted to reach out and tell him, “I won, kid.” Just by Peter being alive, his wife, his daughter, his friends—he had won. He had won.
ellievsbear
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
vaporwave
titsay
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
