I wrote a follow-up to “what were the words I meant to say before you left” as a very thrown together birthday present for Tony Stark, because he deserves a reunion with his boy.
“I’ve had this dream before.”
Peter jolts awake, squinting at the dully lit room around him, lifting a hand to rub his aching neck before he realizes who spoke.
The hospital room is silent for a heartbeat as Peter stares at Tony, who stares right back.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter breathes.
Tony gives a tremulous little smile.
“I’m not usually in a hospital bed, though,” Tony says, his voice weak.
“In my dream. The one where you’re alive.”
Peter sucks in a breath and leans forward in his chair, dropping his feet to the floor.
“The MIT sweatshirt is a nice touch,” Tony interrupts. “Look at you.” There’s something aching and proud in Tony’s voice that makes Peter freeze and look at Tony, past the burns and gray hair. Tony’s eyes are soft as he watches Peter, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers. Tony just smiles at him, awestruck and heartbroken.
“It’s so real. Every time.” Tony reaches his good hand out, beckoning. Peter obeys, moving to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. Tony’s hand immediately touches his face, tracing his chin with shaking fingers.
“I can always touch you,” he murmurs. “Smell your shampoo.” He combs his fingers through Peter’s hair, tucks a strand behind his ear.
There’s a lull as Tony cups Peter’s cheek and strokes underneath his eye. He seems to be savoring the warmth of Peter’s skin. Peter pushes against his hand a little, leaning into him, and that smile comes back, the one that looks like Peter’s ripping Tony’s heart out of his chest with his bare hands and Tony couldn’t love him more.
“And then I wake up.” Tony’s voice breaks.
“Tony, this isn’t a dream,” Peter says frantically. “You saved me. I’m here.”
Tony shifts his hand to the back of Peter’s head and pulls him toward his chest.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “You’ve said that before, too. But I always wake up and you’re always gone. I can still feel it, though, when I wake up.”
“Feel what?” Peter asks, pressing his forehead against Tony’s collarbone.
“What it feels like to hold you. For just a few minutes it’s like I can still feel your warmth.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears burn in Peter’s eyes for what he’s done to Tony by dying.
“It’s worth it,” Tony says, shaking his head. “To see you again.”
Tony fades for a long moment, his breathing slowing down.
“Looks like I’m waking up, Pete.” Peter knows that he’s actually falling asleep, but he doesn’t interrupt because Tony takes another breath and opens his mouth.
“I love you, kiddo,” Tony murmurs as his eyes fall closed.
Peter hiccups an almost hysterical laugh.
“Love you,” he babbles. Tony’s fingers tangle in his hair before going loose and warm. “I love you.”
When Tony wakes up, he can feel Peter’s warmth. The weight of him against his chest.
Heart shattering as it does every time he dreams of Peter and wakes to nothing but the memory of him, Tony takes a deep breath. He holds onto it for another long minute, not quite ready to face reality. He can almost feel him breathing.
But Tony knows he can’t live a lie. He’d tried, for a while, and it nearly destroyed him. He opens his eyes.
Peter Parker is asleep next to him, wearing his MIT sweatshirt and drooling onto his shoulder.
After the shock settles, after Tony realizes he isn’t hallucinating, he shakes Peter awake.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter gasps as his eyes snap open.
“Do not ever,” Tony says firmly, cupping Peter’s jaw in his hand, “make me live in a world without you again.”
