Original Imagine: Well, I’ve done it. I’ve officially written my first Stony Fanfic. And I’m enjoying this journey. I’ve never felt closer to Tony Stark in my life. And I love it. Anyway, Peter’s in trouble. And now, his daddy’s need to stop fighting and be there for their son.
Word Count: 1,602
Warnings: AGNST. Sorry. Not sorry. OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY TONY. GODDAMN.
* * * * *
There was no warning. No possible way for Tony Stark to even remotely stop this. Time stopped as Peter’s limp body began to shut down. First his liver, then his lungs, within days his own heart would give out. Within those few seconds, a chilling thought ran though Tony’s mind “There is no stopping this.”
Tears were filling his eyes as his hand shakily reached out taking Peter’s hand in his own. He wasn’t moving. Just like the last couple days. His hands were ice cold to the touch.
This was it. The moment Tony had been dreading. Had always been dreading.
Peter Parker was dying.
And it was all his fault.
Tony sat in the most uncomfortable chair known to man. He sat, not sleeping, not eating for three days. Various beeps and whirs filled the silence from the mechanical machine currently keeping Peter alive.
Within the span of three days, Tony had gone over every bit of CCTV and footage he could get his hands on. He’d poked, prodded, irritated, and pleaded with every doctor he could to try and find a cure. But there wasn’t one. There had never been one.
The cheap plastic phone in his hands was almost too heavy to hold. Every bit of life had been drained from Tony’s body. His soul was heavy as the world rested malignant upon his shoulders. His body was shutting down, but not sleeping in seventy two hours will do that to you. Tony knew the signs and were actively fighting them.
The same thought had been circling for three days. Hell, it’d first come up before Peter had even hit the ground. And as much as Tony had tried to fight it, there it was. As plain and present as ever.
I should call Steve.
Shaking his head for the umpteenth time, he fought against the thought. Knowing the fight that would invade Steve and Tony’s already rocky relationship, and still fighting how pissed off he was when it came to his favorite star spangled man.
The thoughts were too much. Each one charging into his subconscious, scorching what little self respect Tony had left into permanent ash. It all happened in a flash. Everything was good, for a half a second. Then it was all shit again. Steve’s last words to him pierced deep into his soul, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
* * *
“So that’s it? It’s over?” Steve’s footing fell backwards a step, as if he’d lost his balance. His expression was electrified, sheer shock had taken over his beautiful features.
Tony’s expression matched Steve’s, he never thought this is where this conversation would head. Breathless, his shoulders shrugged, “I guess so.”
“I thought we were a family?” The blue in Steve’s eyes turned a deep green, desperate for resolution, and a positive one. He tried one more time, his voice drenched with anguish “You. Me. Peter.” His now green eyes drowning in the inevitable “You can’t expect me to just leave.”
Tony’s heart burned, greed laced in his soul, he wanted it all. He wanted Steve to understand, his voice rang against the steel walls of his own workshop “You kept it from me Steve!” Tony’s creamy eyes cutting desperately through Steve’s “You chose. Him over me. Again!”
Steve’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, as his hands flew up in the air for the umpteenth time. “Tony I was trying to protect you!” Tony’s reply was curt his voice arctic “By lying to me? OVER. And OVER. And over again.”
Steve’s face fell slightly, his forehead relaxing and his jaw set “Yes! Well, no. I … Tony.” Steve’s words had lost all control. Tony’s shoulders had stiffened, his eye brows set in a hard line.
Tony waited for Steve’s explanation, but it never came. Tony stood straight, straightened his tie, and turned to stride away. But Steve’s succulent voice was laced in heartache, and it stopped him dead in his tracks. He didn’t turn. Just stopped.
“Tony please. Don’t leave me. I love you. Buck’s my best friend. Please.” Tony had never heard Steve’s voice so small, like he was waking from a nightmare. But this wasn’t a dream. This was reality. Tony’s limbs longed to comfort him, to forgive him. But he couldn’t. The pain in Tony’s chest was incredulous. It took over everything. With a quick stride, Tony walked out.
Leaving Steve Rogers in the floor. Crying.
* * *
Finishing his fifth cup of coffee within this hour, his head hung low. His forehead nestled on the disposable phone that was in between his hands.
Right before he’d even opened the phone to dial that fated number, the door was opening. Tony looked up into the steel blue eyes of the man who he had walked out on almost six months before. Tony’s heart leapt in his chest, the way it always does when Steve is in the room.
Nothing else mattered in that moment. It didn’t matter that they were fighting. It didn’t matter that they might not ever be together ever again. All that mattered was that Peter was hurt and he came back.
Tony of course knew that Steve had come back for Peter, but right now it didn’t matter. Steve was in front of him, and he could live with that for now.
Steve’s eyes burned with insomnia. The circles under his eyes were dark and brooding. He’s as miserable as I am. A bloom of hope flowered in the pit of Tony’s stomach, and it comforted Tony, if only for a moment.
Tony’s head nodded in Steve’s general direction “Captain.” The Captain’s voice was strong and abrasive. Which didn’t surprise Tony at all. If Steve was anything, it was professional, “Mr. Stark.”
The two of them sat in silence for a long while, brewing in their own anger. Tony’s voice was the first one to air as he articulated “I assume his highness is doing okay?”
Steve nodded his confirmation “Yes. King T'Challa is fine.” Tony’s hissed response ground at Steve’s professional nature “I was talking about Captain Guyliner. But whatever.”
Steve’s head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes clenched, lips pursed as he took a deep breath using all the strength he had to ignore Tony’s jab. Tony just brushed Steve’s stern demeanor off as he scoffed “I see you’ve grown your beard out. I always did like you brooding and dark.”
Tony didn’t even flinch as Steve’s accusatory voice bombarded the room “How could you send him in there Tony?”
Tony looked up at Steve’s incursion “He didn’t give me a choice. He was in before I could stop him.”
Steve’s head shook fiercely as his hand rubbed the hair at his chin voraciously “Well he shouldn’t have been in play at all! He’s sixteen Tony! Sixteen!”
Tony’s eyes closed under Steve’s obvious disapproval, all the fighting and arguing that came with Tony and Steve’s relationship came back within a second. Tony felt the pressure in his chest once more. He didn’t say anything as his head fell heavy, his chin hitting his chest and his hands rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.
That didn’t stop Steve’s violent inquiry, nothing did when he got like this, “How could you be so irreverent? Our son almost died.”
Tony’s eyes looks though the florescent illuminated room, the blue tinted white of the room was beginning to piss him off. White walls, white machines, everything was white. He hated the color white. It gave him a sense of fake cleanliness. Of fake comfort. Tony’d always hated hospitals.
Tony sat quietly in the silence filled, anxiety laced room as his eyes became glossy. His voice was filled with a bloodcurdling malice that he usually reserved for himself “Why in the hell do you care Steve? This doesn’t concern you anymore. You have no right to be angry.”
“I have every right to be angry.” Steve’s protective voice seethes through his clenched teeth. Tony asserted his position just as quickly “He doesn’t concern you anymore.” Tony regretted the words as soon as they’d left his lips.
I didn’t mean that.
The hurt in Steve’s eyes is apparent. Steve’s eyes narrowed, obviously taken aback at the blatant misery in Tony’s voice. Gone was Steve’s usual diplomatic way of words, Tony had gotten to him, the anger was right there in the twitch of his lip as he growled “Wanna run that one by me again Stark?”
Tony couldn’t stop the light that filled his chest as a hearty dose of hope filled his body cavity. Tony knew Steve, as long as Steve was still angry, he still cared. But a humbling thought crossed Tony’s mind, causing the light to dim. He still cares about Peter, not you.
Tony cleared his throat, standing up, making a show of straightening out his tie and looking nonplussed “He’s not your kid Rogers. Hell, he’s not even mine. But I adopted this boy, so that makes him mine.”
Tony’s voice became impassioned under Steve’s continued scrutiny “He’s all I’ve got left Steve. He’s it.” Tony shook his head, before looking down at Peter’s slender frame covered with wiry blankets with tubes and wires forcing him to live.
Tony’s voice was small as he continued, “And now… ” His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as a single tear slid down his narrowed face “Now I’ve killed him.”
