WARNINGS: nightmares, flashbacks, minor description of a panic attack
The sheets of the expensive bed felt too restricting. My soft clothes clung to my skin, throughly soaked through with sweat. Sweat beaded along my upper lip and brow and matted my hair. My breathe came in huffs, never quite getting a lung full of air. It felt as if my chest was being crushed. I could feel everything. Every fiber of the expensive silk sheets rubbed against my skin like sandpaper, making my skin crawl.
I shoved off the duvet and slid to the floor, trying to find an escape from the crushing pressure in my chest. I grabbed at the center of my chest, desperate to get air back into my lungs. I couldn't see anything but the pile of ruble that lay on top of me, stealing the air from my lungs. The Vulture was screaming in my ears, telling me I was nothing, nothing without that suit.
"Look at the itsy bitsy spider," he taunted. "Unable to get himself out of a little bit of rubble," he sneered. "You're nothing without the suit. Well, have a nice life, Mr. Parker." The words continued to play themselves over and over again in my head relentlessly. I brought my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself, trying to find an escape from the mental torture. Hot, sticky tears dropped down my cheeks as I sobbed into my arms.
The sound of a door sliding open reached my ears but just barely. My hands disappeared into my hair, pulling at my hair hard. I could sense someone in front of me, but I didn't look up. I couldn't. I couldn't let whoever it was see me in such a state.
Something was suddenly touching my shoulders, and I jumped, letting out a startled screech. The offending object was quickly removed. Flashes of the Vulture and of the rubble were striking against the darkness of the place I was in. There was someone speaking now, but I couldn't put the disembodied voice to a face. It was familiar, in my state of mental disarray, I could not find a match. Slowly, the voice made its way through the frightening images that caused my head to pound painfully.
"-ter. -ter, -ten to -e," I heard, barely being able to put the piece of words I had managed to grasp and put them together into a coherent sentence. I could only groan loudly at the person who was speaking to me. Or at least it was loud to my over sensitive ears. Everything was too loud right now. The humming of the AC, the person talking to me, all the other electronics running throughout the building. Oh, a building. The warehouse. I groaned loudly again, trying to convey my fear to the person in front of me. I needed saved, I needed taken away form this place.
My tongue get like cotton inside my mouth, and I was unable to get it to work, to even get a single word out. I couldn't breath, the combination making me panic even more. With unfeeling hands, I grabbed blindly for the person in front of me. Even in my frenzied state, I knew the person here, right in front of me, was not going to hurt me. I knew the voice that had previous been speaking to me, and it felt safe and warm if a voice could have those qualities.
My hands were met with soft fabric, and I latched onto it in an act of desperation. I cried out loudly at the comforting feeling, forgetting the embarrassment I had previously been feeling. I was so scared. I just wanted to be safe. And this person was safe. I knew I'm the very back of my mind that this was the embodiment of safety.
The panicking part of me screamed to get away from this person because the firm grip on my shoulders was restricting, just like the destroyed warehouse. The other, more rational, side of me told me to trust this person, just like I had so many other times before. The person holding me was rocking me back and forth slightly as if they might do with a restless infant. A strong hand was running up and down my back, giving me something to ground myself with.
"Peter? Can you hear me, kid?" the voice asked. I choked out a sob of relief when I finally realized I could finally make sense of what the voice was saying. "Hey, hey, hey, kiddo, calm down, you were doing good." I nodded but only cried harder when I finally recognized the voice of the person who was holding me. It was Mr. Stark. It was always Mr. Stark. He had saved me from the lake. He had saved me form the Vulture's cronies on the ferry. He saved me from that dusty planet. There's nothing he wouldn't do for me, and I knew that. He had given an arm to save the universe, to save me. I had been the first person he asked for when he woke up after his surgery.
"Shh, kiddo, I have you," Mr. Stark murmured into my hair. A hand managed to wedge itself between our chests that were pressed together in our tight embrace. Mr. Stark's strong hand pressed over my chest. "Breath with me, kid. You got it. Just focus on me," he said and continued to whispered comforting words into my ear.
This continued for a few minutes. My breathing was still slightly labored, and there was still panic lingering in the pit of my stomach. "Hey, Pete," Mr. Stark began. "You're still having a panic attack, you know that, don't you?" I nodded, pressing my face into what I guessed was my mentor's chest. I was no longer seeing visions of the Vulture and the warehouse, but the adrenaline crash had left me in a shaking, panicking mess.
"C-can't bre-breath, Mr. -tark," I groaned.
"If you can talk you can breath, spiderkid," was the quick quip I got in response. I pounded a fist on what I assumed was his shoulder. I heard him laugh. "You know I'm right, kid," he said though a a tense chuckle. "Alright, tell me where we are, kid," Mr. Stark prompted me.
"The-the lake house," I muttered, knowing where this was going and trying to relax.
"Who all is in the house?" he asked. "You remember?" I nodded.
"You, Mrs. Pepper, and Morgan," I said, my forehead creased as I tried to remember. "Rhodey was here last evening," I supplied. "But he left last night after dinner?"
"Yep, Petey. That's right. Hmm," he hummed, and I knew he was thinking. "How old is Morgan? I know you know," he said though a chuckle. His comment made me laugh as well.
"Five years, seven months, and two days," I replied, a small smile on my face as I thought about my surrogate little sister. The older man chuckled, his laughter making his chest vibrate against my own. "I'll always remember," I promised.
"Oh, I know you will, kiddo. You remember just about everything and everyone, don't you? And sometimes that's good and sometimes that's bad,
isn't it?" I nodded hesitantly, knowing what he was getting at. I knew I couldn't avoid this talk. It had to come eventually. "What was it this time?" he asked, and I felt his hand begin to rub my back again as tears started to fill my eyes.
"The Vulture. The warehouse," I moaned into his chest, shaking my head as tears began to pour down my face once more. I had told him all about the incident with the Vulture during our time spent bonding after his surgery. He hadn't been happy that I hid that from him, but he hadn't been angry. He had been surprisingly understanding. But he had his own demons that he didn't like to talk about. My warehouse was his Siberia.
"Ah, ah, ah, remember; you're safe, or all of that grounding stuff Pepper forces us to use would all be for nothing." I couldn't held but smile. I knew he was just trying to lighten the mood. He needed the grounding techniques just as much as I did. We used them together. A lot. His hand carded through my hair soothing as I leaned into his touch. If I could have purred like a cat at the contact, I would have. I felt Tony place his chin on my head, and I snuggled into his chest more, if that was even possible. He pulled me against his chest and rearranged himself so that he was leaning against my bed. I was all but sitting in his lap now. And surprisingly, it didn't feel awkward. Not at all. Not in the slightest.
"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Mr. Stark asked after what felt like forever, but I knew if couldn't haven't been more than a couple of minutes. I shrugged in his hold, still feeling upset, but much less so. "Yeah," he said through a sigh. "I figured. I understand," he whispered under his breath, probably hoping I wouldn't hear him, but my enhanced hearing be damned. I nodded into his neck having buried it there long ago.
"Thank you, Mr. Stark," I muttered, pulling away from him a little, finally able to look at the man who was holding me. His hair was a mess, and the usual bags under his eyes were present, just as they always were. They were the affects of sleepless nights caused by nightmares, I knew. I had a matching set. He was dressed in long sweatpants that were covered in grease stains and paint. His shirt was equally a mess, but I found them comforting sight, to see him so relaxed, at ease. He was safe. I was safe. We were all safe. His comfortable clothing was a nice reminder. "I wouldn't be here without you," I whispered. He only shrugged, that arrogant smirk playing on his lips.
"Probably not," he agreed, causing me to laugh. "But what did we talk about with all this 'Mr. Stark' business?" he asked, causing me to flush red and hide my face back in the crook of his neck. I felt more than heard him chuckle. "I thought we moved passed that. We're there. You can call me Tony. If you can get hugs from the great Tony Stark, then you can call me Tony." His words caused me to laugh but a slight bit of embarrassment crept into my stomach and showed on my face with an even deeper blush. I knew he was talking about when I had accidently hugged him when in fact he was just opening the door for me all those years ago. "Not a hug. Just grabbing the door for you. We're not there yet." The old memory made me smile.
"Daddy? Petey?" I heard from the doorway and looked up from my father figure's neck to see Morgan in her purple space themed pajamas, rubbing her face with her shirt sleeve.
"What are you doing up, Morgs?" Tony asked, slightly moving back from me but still not relinquishing his hold on me. The little girl that had become something like a little sister to me moved into the room. Tony held one arm out to his daughter and pulled her into a tight hug. My heart twisted at the picture, Tony hugging his daughter, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head like any good father would have done.
"Had to pee," she said through a big yawn, too big for the little girl. "Heard you guys in here," she explained. There was a frown on her face as she looked over at me. I gave her a small smile, but her frown did not budge. "Why were you crying, Peter?" she asked, putting a hand to my face where there were still remnants of sticky tears on my face.
"Just had a bad dream, Morgan," I explained, my smile disappearing.
"Oh," she said, jutting her lower lip out a little bit. "I have bad dreams too sometimes," she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. "Daddy always helps," she added, turning to look up at her father.
"Yeah, he does," I whispered, but Tony heard me anyway. He sent me a smile before pulling the both of us into a tight hug, pressing kisses to both of our unruly hair. "Alright, little Starklings," Tony said, causing me to blush. "If you promise not to tell mom, we can have a little midnight snack, just dad and his kids, how does that sound?" I rolled my eyes at the 'kid' comment. Morgan's eyes got wide at his words.
"Juice pops?" she asked in a whisper. Tony held a finger to his lips and nodded silently. Mogan' face broke out into a smile, and she quickly scampered out of the room and down the stairs as quietly as an excited five year old could. Tony stood up with a low groan before extending a hand to me which I gratefully accepted. As soon as I was on my feet, he slung an arm around my broad shoulders, pulling me close to his side.
"You know I love you just as much as Morgan, right?" he asked bluntly. My eyes went wide at his proclamation. "You were my first kid," he said, as blunt as ever. My eyes were now tearing up, and I threw my ars around his middle in the tightest hug I have ever given anyone. I heard him chuckle before a hand was carding through my hair. "Don't go crying on me again, Underoos. This shirt is already soaked," he said, but I knew he meant nothing by it.
"Love you too, dad," I muttered, my voice slightly muffled by his shirt. I felt him sigh and all previous tension that I hadn't noticed suddenly melted away from his muscles.
"Come on kiddo. Can't keep your sister waiting."
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