Becoming Spider-Man - Chapter Fifteen (b)
Peter Parker-Stark Says Hello
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Peter Parker & Tony Stark (IronDad)
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> In which Peter Parker-Stark finally gets to go home.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 1667
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) Major Character Injury, risk of MCD.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Written to avoid the absolute slaughter of 15 (a) being the only part and getting blacklisted from every site on the planet; but I left 15 (a) in because honestly, I loved writing it, despite the fact that I sobbed the entire time. Here's your happy ending, guys. Enjoy it.
Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Cute divider by @/sweetmelodygraphics!
<- Previous Chapter (14/16) <- 15 (a) - Sad Ending (15/16)
I curled up in the chair beside his hospital bed, the tears having stopped long ago. His reactor still flickered in and out, stuttering reluctantly against the immense power surge.
Ironically, the only person likely to be able to fix Tony... Was Tony. I’d be warned to prepare for the worst. Nat spent most of her time with her fingers locked in mine, the other Avengers milling around helplessly.
Waiting for him to die.
His helmet was clasped in my lap, fingers pressed desperately to the metal while the Wakandans, led by Shuri, buzzed around his seemingly lifeless body, the only sign that he was still with us given by the sporadic beep of his ECG.
It had been three days since he snapped, and I had barely moved from my spot, leaving only when absolutely necessary to pee – which became less and less frequent when I all but stopped drinking. Intermittently, Natasha tried to convince me to eat, to sleep – to do something besides sit and stare at him, willing him to sit up and smile at me.
Please. Just… Open your eyes, Tony. Please.
A nameless, faceless offender bumped me roughly, and Tony’s helmet sprawled to the floor with a deafening clatter, sending me to my feet in a rage. “Look what you did!”
“Peter-” Nat started, but I shook her off roughly.
“That’s his helmet, have some fucking resp-”
“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way.”
I looked around sharply, startled to silence, a ragged sob torn from my lips at the sight of the holographic Tony seated opposite me, projected from the helmet on the ground. He looked exactly as I remembered him – overworked, exhausted, and easy to smile. My saviour. A far cry from the man unconscious in the bed before me, fighting for his life.
“Maybe this time. I’m hoping if you play this back… it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited. I hope we get it back, and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored – if there ever was such a thing. God, what a world.” Tony smiled to himself, a dreamy, awestruck expression flitting across his face as his eyes saw things I couldn’t fathom. “Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone – let alone, you know, to this extent – I mean, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, y’know? The epic forces of darkness and light have come into play. And, for better or worse, that’s the reality that Peter is gonna have to find a way to grow up in.”
I felt Natasha’s gaze slide to me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the echo of my father, trembling fingers pressed to my lips as the man in the hologram paused for a heartbeat, thoughtful, before shaking his head dismissively. “So I thought I’d better record a little greeting, in the case of an untimely death – on my part,” he added quickly, eyes widened in microscopic alarm.
The idea of me dying was so terrifying, so impossible to him, that he couldn’t even comprehend it?
“Not that death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it’s… it’s got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That’s the thing.” He hesitated again, a finger pressed to his lip in thought. “Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I even tripping for?” he added under his breath, pushing himself up and approaching the helmet. “Everything is gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” He leant down, stretching out a hand to cut the recording, and his eyes raised, finding mine.
“I love you, kid,” he breathed, a playful, Tony-esque smile crossing his face.
I sobbed raggedly, sinking to my knees, pulling the helmet back to my chest as I cried. “No. No, you can’t die, Tony. You can’t. I-I can’t find a way to grow up in this world if it doesn’t have you in it. I won't.” I moved to the bed, wrapping my fingers in his own scorched ones desperately. “Please. I-I… You said everything is going to work out how it’s supposed to. And it’s supposed to be you, here, with me. In our cabin, remember?” I pressed my forehead to his hand, weeping openly, the silence around me heavy as I let grief and guilt consume me. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. If I’d been stronger… If I’d been better. If I-I’d been the son you deserve…”
“Peter-”
I waved her off again, shaking my head as I cried. “I should have… It should have been me, Dad. I shouldn’t… You should never have been there. You should have retired, like you wanted. You…”
Nat’s fingers found my hair softly, caressing and soothing, and I leant into the touch despite myself, hiccupping around my tears. “I can’t lose you, Dad.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint.”
I froze at the sound, at the fingers running once more through my matted hair, gentle and familiar. At the low, throaty chuckle I’d heard countless times in countless ways.
My head shot up, soaked and swollen from my tears, and I could only blink in disbelief at the mahogany eyes resting gently on mine. “… T… Tony?”
“Peter.” His voice was weak and cracked – and goddamn glorious. I threw myself at him bodily with a yowl of desperation, earning a soft oomph for my effort at the air was pushed from his lungs. Shuri murmured warningly, but the hand against my back waved her away before clutching at me tightly, equally frantic as he pulled me closer.
“Goddamn it, Peter…”
I sobbed against his throat, curled into his chest as my body trembled, my fingers mapping the drawn lines of his face. “I-I-I’m so sorry, Mr. St-Stark, I-I…”
He shushed me quietly, lips pressing to my forehead as his own tears began to fall. “It’s okay, kid. It’s okay.”
