Cold nipped at Tony's appendages, annoying him into consciousness. With a huff, he looked down to see a small scrap of fabric covering not even half his body. Following the rest of the blanket, his eyes landed on Pepper, snuggled in a pile of warmth, the fabric tucked around her. For a moment, Tony contemplated tugging back his half of the covers then pretending to be asleep when she would inevitably wake up, but decided against it seeing her peaceful face.

Rolling his eyes, Tony rolled out of bed, quietly making his way out into the hall. Tugging open the linen closet, he was met with empty shelves. With a heavy sigh, Tony resentfully decided to make his way down the stairs and to the laundry room, where, last night, he had conveniently forgotten to empty the dryer. With all the blankets in it. Of course.

Creeping as quietly as he could, Tony made his way downstairs, eying the door to the laundry room. He paused, seeing faint light streaming from a crack in the TV room's door. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Tony padded to the door and gently pushed it open. Peeking inside he was met with the words 'are you still watching?' shining from the TV screen. A faint grey glow washed across the room. Entering, Stark's eyes landed on a petit frame tucked into a ball on the couch. Peter laid fast asleep against the cool black leather with a fuzzy blanket draped over him. Dark brown curls fell neatly across his eyelids as his mouth hung slightly open, chest slowly rising and falling as he breathed. Tony noticed a faint trail of drool running down his chin. An amused smile played on Tony's lips at the sight.

Padding over on silent feet, Stark knelt beside the couch, analyzing Peter. Tony hadn't realized how sickly Peter looked during the day until now. Snuggled up on the couch, he looked utterly peaceful - not a shred of worry in his expression.

That - and he looked adorable.

Tony swept the hair out of the kid's face and tucked it behind his ear. He loved the kid so much. It wasn't fair that Peter had endured so much. He was so young and full of promise - he deserved the world. He deserved to have his mother and father, uncle and aunt. Anyone.

Tony sighed quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He loved Peter like he was his own son, so, to him, Peter was his family. But he knew Peter didn't feel the same way. Not entirely at least. Yes Peter felt close to Tony, but Tony knew that the two of them viewed family in different ways. To Stark, family was whoever he cared for - which was few people, but to the kid, family was whomever he was related to - everyone else was just a 'friend' and nothing more. Peter would never accept the Starks - Tony - as his family. It hurt like hell to know that the kid was waking up every day thinking that he had no one. Tony wished, prayed, hoped to God that one day Peter would see the family knelt right in front of him now.

Tony took a deep breath and wiped the mist away from his eyes. Standing, he tucked the blanket around Peter and walked to the door. Pausing once to look back at the sleeping boy, he exited the room turning out the light and gently shutting the door.

. . .

The world was a haze.

He stumbled and crashed into the accent table. An array of decorations, including a vase went crashing to the ground. The sharp shattering sound blended with the lights, swirling into a sickening mixture. All the colours were neon and floating across his vision. Everything was distorted, twisting and swirling. His vision lagged behind his eyes and his mind was like puddy. Sticky and unable to keep a stable shape. It felt like it was slowly falling apart, piece by piece tearing away from the lifeless lump.

He couldn't walk, shambling aimlessly down the hall. His feet barely kept him moving. His legs gave out and he fell hard to his knees. His mind buffered, struggling to keep up with the present. Reality was distorted, twisting, spinning, fading in and out… in and out… and in… and…

Out.

. . .

Blood.

Blood coated his hands.

Her blood.

Her grip tightened around his wrist. "Peter." Her voice was raspy, barely audible. Her eyes bore into his, burrowing into his soul. "Peter." Her eyes grew distant.

"May! May come back to me, come back! May! May please! Look at me, please! Please wake up! MAY!"

Peter bolted up. His eyes darted around, struggling to make sense of where he was. After a few moments of delirium, the world came into focus. He was in Mr. Stark's study. A big fuzzy Star Wars blanket was tucked around him and he snuggled under it even more, flopping back into the couch.

"Awake, are you?" Peter snapped back up and spotted Mr. Stark entering the room, carrying a couple mugs. "Here, coffee."

"Uh, hey, how… how'd I get here?"

"So you were blacked out, huh? Thought so."

"Uh….." uh oh.

"Yep." Tony took a seat in his chair across from Peter. "I found you nearly passed out in the hallway last night. Stumbling around, crashing into things and tripping over yourself."

Welp, Peter already broke his promise to Pepper. He'd overdone it.

Six days. He'd made it less than a week.

He hadn't meant for it to happen. He'd just had a rough night. It… it wouldn't stop. All of it. It just wouldn't stop, so he had to make it. Problem was, it took a little more than usual to do the trick, so… so it could easily get out of hand. And it did.

He really had tried not to do that.

"So," Tony sipped his drink. "What'd you take this time? Just straight heroin or did you mix it with something else?"

"... I- it- uh…"

"Look, kid, I'm not judging you, ok? And I won't be mad, but I need to know what all you're taking. I wanna make sure you're staying safe."

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark, I can handle myself."

Tony groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Peter. You're not fine-"

"Ok we're done here." Peter stood up and headed for the door. It was past time for his next hit and, god, he fucking needed the fucking hit.

"Peter. You're not walking away this time. I already told you: I'm done being patient. I didn't want to push, but this's gone on long enough. We are gonna talk." He bolted up, speeding after the kid.

"No, we aren't."

"You've gotta get clean."

"No. Just let it go already."

"I can't do that."

"Why?" Peter challenged, stopping in his tracks and spinning to shoot Tony with a defiant look.

"Because you're in a very precarious situation right now full of used needles, drug dealers, and heroin. That's fucking why."

"That's my choice. I brought that stuff onto myself. It's not your responsibility, Mr. Stark. What happens to me, happens, ok? And it'll be my fault, my doing. It is not your problem."

Tony took a moment, regarding the kid. Disheveled hair, dark circles under his eyes, stick-thin, pale, and scratches all up his forearms. Tony set his jaw. "You know a wise kid once told me that when you have powers like I do and you don't use them and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you."

The kid startled, eyes widening in momentary surprise. "You remembered…?" he breathed, voice barely audible as he stared at Tony, bewilderment plastered across his face.

Tony shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You made a good point."

"... a point that cost me everything."

"Not everything."

The kid cast his eyes to the ground. He inhaled. "I don't wanna get clean, Mr. Stark. I'm… I'm sorry…" With that, he pushed the door open and disappeared into the hall.

Tony's heart squeezed.

He needed a drink.

A real drink.

. . .

"I have you to thank for my marriage, I think."

"Say what now?" Peter froze, his fork full of food suspended in the air as he stared wide-eyed at Pepper.

Pepper chuckled. "Tony and I were taking a break. He couldn't give up the suits and it was causing a rift between us. His obsession - building new suits nonstop - was coming before me." She took a bite of her omelette. "Then he met you. And a few months after the airport incident, he showed up at my door saying he'd tone down the suit building - even give it up if I wanted. He said that he'd realized what's really important in life." Pepper chuckled to herself, eating another fork full of breakfast. "A month later, he proposed and immediately started talking about having kids. It was like he'd learned that raising a child was what he wanted more than anything in the world." She smiled warmly at Peter. "I see now that was because of you."

The food fell off of Peter's fork. After a few moments of gaping, he said the most intelligent response with such eloquence, even the world's most silver-tongued politician would have looked upon him with awe. "Buh-hahdagaaa- uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-"

"Morning." Tony strolled into the room. Peter's head snapped to stare him dead-on, eyes wide with confused and apprehensive bewilderment. Tony froze mid pouring of his coffee, "what'd I miss?"

"Oh nothing," Pepper stood up and walked over to give him a morning kiss on the cheek. "I was just telling him how he's the reason you wanted Morgan."

Tony paused for a moment then shrugged, "yeah."

"YeAh?!"

Tony shrugged again, busying himself with his coffee preparation if only to keep himself from saying something stupid, like denying it or making a dumb joke. He cleared his throat, "you got a problem with that?"

"W- no. No, I- uh, I- that's just- it's- you know?" Tony looked up from his coffee, raising an eyebrow. Peter's face did that silly thing that always reminded Tony of a cross between a puppy and a frog. He was pretty sure that was the kid's 'this is making me kinda happy, but it's also kind of weird and I don't know how to react to it' face. "Just didn't know that was… that was… uh, the way… things worked out. Is all."

Tony had to practically chug his coffee - which was pretty darn hot - to keep a stupid self-destrcutive comment from bubbling up. He pulled up a chair beside Pepper, who greeted him with a kiss to his cheek. "Did you let Morgan know breakfast is ready?"

"It's picture day at school, she's gonna be a few extra minutes."

"Oh shoot, I forgot it was that today. I should probably go help her with her hair."

"I already got it."

Pepper's eyebrows shot up and she smiled, clearly ready to laugh, but holding it back. "You?"

"Hey!" Tony leaned back, placing a hand on his chest, exaggerated offence on his face. "I happen to be great at doing hair! I even did a nice bow and everything."

Pepper chuckled softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Well, good on you for trying, but I'll believe it when I see it."

"You will see it and then you're gonna owe me for doubting me."

"I'm going to owe you? Really, remind me how many times I've covered your butt?"

Their bantering ensued. Eyes shone with love and fake frowns masked smiles of comfort and joy. Peter found himself internally chuckling alongside them. They were a good couple. They clearly made each other happy.

With a start, Peter realized he didn't feel uncomfortable or out of place. He felt… he felt fine sitting here, despite not actively participating in the conversation.

Her words still bounced around his head..

He really couldn't believe it.

Was Pepper lying? Probably not, why would she?

It just… how could he be any reason someone would want a kid?

He'd honestly wondered if he was the reason May and Ben never had a kid of their own.

They'd never planned on having kids, he knew that. They'd spent years saving up so they could travel together, but then… but then they got stuck with him. Maybe they were just good at pretending, but Peter always thought they were happy with him, but they never did try for a kid of their own.

There could've been a few reasons, he knew that, like fertility issues or May not wanting to put her body and mind through pregnancy, but Peter couldn't help but wonder… He couldn't help but wonder if he'd deterred them from wanting more kids. Maybe he'd been too difficult.

With his parents… well, he couldn't have been the easiest to raise. He'd had some issues. Nightmares and anxiety to name a couple.

Also he'd lost a lot of backpacks.

So it was hard to imagine he'd ever be a motivator for someone to have a kid.

Either way… it… it felt nice. To know that maybe - just maybe - he'd had a good impact on someone, much less someone who honestly deserved the word. 'Cause Tony did.

He deserved a happy, family life.

Peter was glad he'd gotten that.

. . .

The air was chilled, just a bit too cold for comfort, but crisp and clean. Peter hated the cold, but he couldn't deny it made it easier to breathe. Further into the yard, birds chirped, a handful of sparrows nibbling at the birdseed spilt from the feeder.

It was so calm here. It was so slow. So quiet.

Something not-human touched him.

"AH!" Peter flew back, tripping on a divot in the grass as he went. His eyes were wide as he stared up at the creature. A long neck loomed over him, big, crooked teeth chewing, dropping pieces of mushed up food.

"I see you've met Gerald." Tony chimed and Peter turned his head to see the man approaching them, half a dozen red berries in hand. "He's our alpaca. Or as Pepper likes to call him: my alpaca, but-" Tony shrugged, tossing a berry into his mouth "-he's really the whole family's."

Peter's gaze darted between the animal and Tony.

Gerald was blinking at him, giving Peter the vibe he was seeing straight into his soul.

"You gonna stand up or do you need a hand?" Tony quirked an eyebrow.

Peter quickly pushed himself up, brushing off the butt of his pants. "'M good. Just- he startled me. I didn't know you owned an alpaca."

"Sure do." He ate another berry and extended his hand towards Peter. "Goji?"

"Goji?"

"The berry. It's a goji berry. You want one?"

"I-" Peter blinked. The heck was a goji berry? "Uh, no thanks?"

With a nod, Tony threw the remainder of his berries back. Gerald whined, clearly upset that he didn't get one. The man rolled his eyes and patted his pet, hand instantly eaten up by the fluff. "Gosh we gotta shear you, don't we? You're gettin' too fluffy." Gerald bobbed his head as if in response. "Speaking of cutting hair, you gonna tend to that bird's nest sitting on your head?"

"Huh? Oh." Peter looked up as if trying to see his hair. His hand ran through it. Yeah, yeah, maybe it was time for a haircut. But that cost money. He supposed he could do it himself, but… well, he didn't exactly trust himself to make it any less than horrifically ugly. "Uh…"

"I've got a barber in the financial district. He'll do a good job."

Oof. A barber Tony went to? That was gonna be pricey as heck. "Uh… I, uh-"

Sometimes Peter swore Tony could actually read his mind, because he smirked a little and nodded. "I'm a long-standing client, he won't charge for you."

Peter cocked his head to the side. "Why's that?"

Tony shrugged and started his way to the driveway, motioning for Peter to follow. "That's just how it works. You don't charge the kid of a long-standing client."

"But I'm not…"

"Yeah, well you might as well be."

Peter didn't know what to respond to that. He didn't know how to feel about it.

So he didn't say anything.

He slipped into the passenger seat and buckled up (a lesson he wouldn't be quick to forget).

The car rides had become quite enjoyable. He'd always liked watching the world passing by outside the window. That was part of why he liked swinging so much. He could just watch the hustling and bustling of the city. People out living their lives, getting groceries, picking up last minute anniversary presents, walking their dog. It was peaceful. Which was kinda a weird thing to describe NY as, what with all the crime and violence.

The highway drive wasn't too fun, but he couldn't complain too much 'cause Taylor Swift was playing. He wasn't sure if Tony liked her or if it was just a coincidence that her new album was playing, but either way he was content to sit back and bask in the gentle, yet heartfelt melodies.

Before he knew it, they were pulling up to the curb in front of a barber shop that looked straight outta a movie. It even had those big blue, red and white spirally things out front.

Going inside, the barber greeted Tony with a kiss to each cheek, which he then did to Peter too, who was extremely awkward about it. It wasn't exactly a standard NY greeting. It must've been a French thing 'cause he had a french accent.

Quicker than Peter could process - and maybe that was because he was, uh, a little high, the man whisked him into a chair and was babbling over his shoulder, asking him a whole bunch of stuff like what style he going for, what was he trying to say to the 'ladies of NY' and stuff like that. Peter responded with a babble of 'uhs' and 'uhms'. The man politely patted his shoulder and cast a look to Tony who took over, explaining Peter wanted a 'boyband member style". Which Peter was about to deny, but the barber had his head pulled back, scissors gleaning in front of his face, so Peter kept quiet.

The man was a wizard - well, not literally. Wizard wizards were… they… they were real. For better or for worse.

This man was more like a guy hopped up on coke, which he very well may have been.

This was New York, afterall.

The scissors were no more than glints of metal sweeping across Peter's vision from time to time. He'd always been a little unnerved by the sound of snips near his ears and neck, a fact that he was much more aware of now that those snips were happening at the speed of light all around him in a flurry.

The man kept reprimanding him for sinking into his shoulders.

"I cannot tell 'ow your 'air looks when you don't 'old your 'ead up. 'Old your 'ead up."

Pete would apologize and do as he said, only to instinctively sink back down a minute later.

After what simultaneously felt like eons and seconds, the man tore the cape-like cover off of Peter, sweeping it through the hair in a grande (and kinda dramatic) motion.

Peter nodded in awkward thanks and finally willed himself to look in the mirror. Had he mentioned he didn't like doing that? Causes he didn't. He hated the sight of himself lately.

His reflection wasn't so bad this time, though. His hair was back to its desirable length. His hair always looked more curly the shorter it was, which he kinda liked - not that it wasn't a pain a lot of the time.

It just felt more like him.

Apparently 'boyband member hair' was exactly the style he liked.

Huh.

A joke about how he had no facial hair to trim made Peter turn around. Tony and the barber were chatting at the front counter. Peter's face soured, but he couldn't complain. His hair looked nice and, as it turned out, Tony was right, it was free.

The man sent them off with yet another kiss to each cheek, which Peter had forgotten he was gonna do, which made it, once more, very awkward.

Exiting the shop, they found themselves back in the hustle of the city.

"How's the haircut feeling?"

Peter nodded, hopping in the passenger seat. "It's nice. Thanks for p- uh." He was gonna say 'thanks for paying', but it had been free. But at the same time, Tony was the reason he was able to get it for free, so how exactly was he supposed to say thanks? "Thanks."

Tony must've picked up on his internal confusion 'cause Peter saw the corner of his mouth tug upwards as he started the car. "I've been meaning to ask-"

Uh oh.

"-Jones. What was that about?"

Peter frowned, "huh?"

Tony's eyes flickered towards him as he pulled away from the curb way too fast. He really was a crazy driver. "When you introduced yourself to Happy. You called yourself Peter Jones."

"Oh, that, right. Uh, so I figured if I used 'Parker' he'd get all… well, May's last name was Parker, so he could've pieced that together and-"

"Yeah, no, I get that. But why Jones?"

Peter bit the inside of his cheek. "It's MJ's last name. Her name is Michelle Jones, she just goes by MJ."

Tony smirked, "well aren't you romantic."

Peter's face soured and he rolled his eyes. He couldn't argue with that.

He'd been in love with her long before they'd- she'd said it.

Part of him was still holding onto the hope that he'd get to say it back to her one day.

Maybe one day.

Maybe.

. . .

Peter sat slumped against Mr. Stark, unable to keep his head up. The euphoria has long since passed, leaving him feeling nothing. And everything. A film was over his life. It was like he was watching himself through a TV screen. And it wasn't the most uplifting movie in the world. His mind was a rubber band being stretched, waiting to snap back into place. But it never did. It just kept stretching and stretching and stretching, every second feeling like it was closer to breaking.

Peter wondered how long it would be until it broke.

These things never ended any other way.

It was sorta nice though, being wrapped in Tony's arms. It almost felt comforting. Peter kinda wished it felt real. Every time his eyes would drift shut, a gentle tapping on his forehead would coax him back and a soft voice would remind him he needed to stay awake.

"You're alright, kid, but you gotta stay awake, ok?"

Peter felt bad. He felt guilty and ashamed. At least he hadn't pissed himself in front of Tony.

Yet.

One of the great joys of being a junkie.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok, kid, you don't have to apologize."

"I… I wish I wasn't this way… I just couldn't take the pain anymore. I tried… I really tried to be ok."

Tony pulled him closer, breathing tense. "I know, I know."

Silence passed between them. The world moved in and out of focus. The veil grew thicker between Peter and the world, like murky water distorting everything. The weight of gravity tripled, pushing Peter down. His head bobbed and he felt the tapping once more.

"I'll buy you a pizza if you stay awake for me."

"…"

"Kid?"

"I don't wanna die like this…"

The hushed words from the kid, cradled in his arms, made Tony's heart stop. He squeezed Peter close, tucking his head under his chin. "You won't, Pete, I promise you, you won't."

"There's nothing you can do to stop it…" the kid's words were slurred and his head bobbed once more.

"Kid? Hey, kid." The kid didn't respond. Tony cupped either side of the kid's head and lifted. His face was slack, eyes closed and mouth open, the full weight of his head resting in Tony's hands. "Peter? Hey, Pete, wake up. Wake up."

Nothing.

"FRI?!" Tony's voice had an almost maniacal tone as he frantically felt for a pulse.

He found one.

"He's alive, boss. Vitals are weak but steady. He didn't overdose, but he almost did."

Relief crashed over Tony like a tidal wave. He slumped forward, resting his forehead against Peter's and breathed. He struggled to slow his heaving chest. His heart drummed in his ears. "Goddammit."

. . .

"Hey Mr. Stark," Peter waltzed into the kitchen and webbed an apple to himself. He paused upon seeing the man's face. "You ok? Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No."

"… oh. Uh, there a reason for that that you wanna talk about or…?" Peter squinted at the man, trying to decipher if he was crossing a line. Tony was such a heartfelt 'no-feeling' kinda guy, it made for some confusing interactions sometimes.

Ignoring Peter's question, Tony looked him up and down, "how're you feeling, kid?"

"Uh…" Peter took a bite of his apple, "'m good, why?"

Tony slumped, "good."

Peter swallowed, "did I… did I… do… something last night?"

Tony looked at him.

Fuck. Peter groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I'm sorry. What happened? Did I break or, like, steal something?"

Tony leaned back and Peter noticed mist in his eyes as he spoke. "No. You almost ODed."

The world whited out. A loud ringing muffled Peter's ears. His throat constricted, mouth feeling suddenly dry. "I… did?"

"Yeah."

"I'm… I'm so sorry Mr. Stark."

"You know what you told me last night?" Tony's voice raised in volume and he was looking very upset. But not angry, just upsetty spaghetti. "You said you didn't want to die like that."

"…"

"Kid, do you think you said that because you're ready to get clean? We could try rehab-"

"No reha-"

"-hab." Tony finished. "Ok fine. I don't understand why you're fighting me on this. It's a place that'll help you."

"No. I don't want to."

"Fine. Are you willing to try - Without rehab, yeah, yeah I know. We can do it here, I'll be here. You'll be here in a supportive environment-"

"Mr. Stark."

"I know, I know-"

"No. I told you I don't want to get clean."

"I know-"

"Stop saying that!" He jabbed a finger at the man. "You obviously don't know, cause you keep bringing it up!"

"I know you and you're a good kid-"

"No I'm not! How can you say that? I'm a junkie for fucks sake!"

"You're hurting."

"Ok. This isn't working out." Peter pushed away from the wall and started towards the hall. "We gave it a good try and I appreciate everything you've done, but I think I should move back into my own apartment."

"Dramatic much?" Tony was quick to follow Peter. "Why are you getting so defensive over this, huh?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because it's fucking embarrassing!" He whirled on Tony then clamped his jaw shut. "Sorry. I'm just- I don't like talking about it ok?"

"Well tough, we're talking about it."

"uuuuUUUUUUUGGHHHHH! Why?!"

"Because It's killing you."

"Is that really so bad?!" The words ripped from Peter's throat before he could stop them.

Tony froze.

This was the second time Peter had said something like that.

"Kid…" Tony's expression hardened into a cross between dread and anger, but not anger directed towards Peter.

Peter set his jaw, taking a few heavy breaths to try and steady his shaky heart. "The whole point of life is to spend time with your loved ones. It's about joy. And yeah, it throws curve balls every so often, but at the end of the day, you go home to your family. You cry with them. Laugh with them. Eat breakfast together. Do chores together. That's what life is about. … So why am I even here? I don't have any… any of those… any of those reasons…" Peter bit his lip, and averted his gaze.

Everyone had someone.

Everyone except him.

So why was he doing this to himself? Life had been nothing but pain. Emptiness and pain. So why was he trapping himself here?

"I think-" he fought the constricting of his throat. "I think I'm afraid they won't be there." Tony stayed silent but present, letting Peter talk. "That's what I've been holding onto: seeing them again after…. but what if… what if there's nothing - no one - there? I don't-" he took a shaky breath, tears spilling from his eyes "-I can't be alone forever. I can't do this anymore…" His voice was a hoarse whisper as he finally met Tony's eyes, pleading for any form of comfort. "I'm so tired."

Tony inhaled, softening, "Kid…"

The kid scrubbed at his eyes. His voice was meek when he spoke. "Do you… do you remember what's on the other side?"

The question made Tony's heart stall. "No." Which was mostly true. He had some faint recollections of yellow, warm like sun rays, all around him. He also remembered speaking to someone. Who that was, he couldn't remember. He didn't know what they talked about or anything.

The memories were snippets. Mere milliseconds, too short and few to paint anything close to a picture.

"But I don't remember feeling afraid." He sighed, "if I didn't go to hell then no one will, so I know your family is in a good place. Wherever that is."

The kid didn't respond for a while, making Tony worry if he'd said the wrong thing. Eventually, he sniffed, "you don't belong in hell, Mr. Stark. You're, like, one of the best people ever."

Tony sighed internally. The kid was always focussed on the good in people to the point where he didn't see Tony for who he really was.

Peter was one of the best people - genuine best people.

Tony was just an ass pretending to be good.

But whatever, this wasn't about him, it was about the kid.

"You're not gonna be alone, Peter, you never will be."

A few moments passed.

The kid nodded, eyes stuck to the ground.

Tony's heart was heavy. It had been that way for a while now. Sometimes it felt like it was made of lead, slowly sinking further and further like rocks in the ocean. He moved forward, wrapping his arms around the kid. Peter didn't fight, he didn't even hesitate to return it, face burying itself in Tony's chest. He started shaking and Tony knew he was crying, even though it was silent. Tony squeezed tighter, tucking his chin over the kid's head.

"You're gonna be just fine, kid." He inhaled, squeezing a little tighter. "I promise."

. . .

After several late nights of helping Morgan create the greatest volcano ever, the science fair was officially over. It had been a fun evening, although Tony was, of course, swarmed by other parents. Some fans, others just wanting to gossip about a few of the teachers.

That was the part he didn't care for.

Seeing the kid's science projects was a good time. All of the kids knew who he was, so a compliment here and there always made their little faces light up.

As much as Tony hated to admit it, it warmed his heart to see them get so excited.

A lot of the kids had some clear potential, too. Geniuses in the making.

Speaking of geniuses, the kid had stayed behind at the house. Tony had tried to convince him to tag along, but he kept saying he was uncomfortable with it. He was worried he'd make all the parents at the fair uncomfortable. Tony couldn't exactly argue with that, but that was the parents' problem not his. But the kid being who he was, wasn't willing to put them in that position.

Tony saw no point in arguing any further. He wasn't changing the kid's mind.

So, he made sure to stick around long enough for FRI to give him the heads-up that Peter had had his drugs. He didn't want to leave knowing Peter was gonna shoot up alone in the house.

Bidding the kid goodbye, Tony set out. He told FRIDAY to keep a close eye on Peter to which the AI reminded him that she'd never stopped keeping watch over him since he first arrived at their place.

Tony couldn't argue with that. He just liked to make sure he was safe.

Thankfully, with his AI's assurance, Tony was able to enjoy the fair with little worry.

After an hour or so, the fair came to an end and it was Pepper's turn to oversee Morgan's fencing class.

Kissing Morgan goodbye and reminding her to go easy (but not too easy) on the other kids, Tony returned home.

Approaching the porch, he discovered the kid staring blankly out at the yard.

"Looking at squirrels?" Tony asked, coming up beside him. The kid didn't respond. He just continued staring, eyes fixed in place at a spot on the grass. A gentle breeze brushed through the porch, making Tony shiver. "You should come inside, it's getting chilly-"

"We had your funeral here." Tony paused. He looked to where the kid was staring. "May and I were right there during the service. I…" He swallowed and inhaled a shaky breath, "I missed you, you know. I really did. And… and I'm glad you're back."

Tony looked at Peter now, side eyeing him because he knew he wouldn't appreciate Tony's full-on stare. Tony didn't say anything. He knew better than to interrupt. The kid was sharing something right now.

It was ironic, really, how differently the kid acted than Tony expected. He likely always had this type of response: running away and keeping to himself. Tony just hadn't seen it coming: it was so jarring compared to his care-free demeanour.

He could still remember back to when they first met, the kid was so… open. Tony had mistakenly identified him as someone who would over-share. What with the attempted hug back in the car all those years ago.

But here Tony was, waiting on bated breath in the hopes the kid would show even the slightest give in his defences.

What he needed was time. He needed time and space to open up. So if Tony pushed it - if he showed eagerness - then the kid might shut down again.

"I'm sorry I haven't acted like it." Peter's voice was quiet, barely audible. "I didn't mean to make you think I wasn't. I just… I'm… I'm tired." Several heartbeats passed. He inhaled again. "I had May to help me. She's always been… she's always been there, you know? She really was my rock and…" His voice choked a little. "I'm trying to figure out how- how I'm supposed to do… this without her." He inhaled once more, trying to steady his breathing. Tony could see he was fighting to keep himself together. Nonetheless, his eyes misted. "Being here… it feels… it feels like I'm just moving on. Like she didn't matter, like I'm trying to replace her. And I don't wanna do that." Despite himself, he gasped, tears breaking forth. "I don't want it to be like she never mattered, like I didn't need her. She was my whole world. It was just her and I. How can I just let myself move on from her? I don't wanna do that- I don't wanna forget her- I don't want to forget how much she meant to me."

He'd entered the guilt phase.

That was good.

Well, 'good' maybe wasn't the right word, but Tony saw hope. First of all, he was opening up. Secondly, he was talking about moving on. Even if he wasn't ready to take that step yet, it was crossing his mind. He'd caught glimpses of a future without his aunt. He'd seen a future for himself.

That was big.

As much as Tony hated to admit it - and he never would admit it - it choked him up. He could feel that burning in his throat as he swallowed down the feeling.

The feeling of relief.

It was like this weight that had been pressing down on his chest for weeks had dissipated the moment he'd heard the kid's words.

He'd been terrified - goddamn terrified for the kid. At times, he'd wondered if he was just holding the kid's hand as Peter walked to his grave.

But now, he'd given Tony that sign. That small, brief sign. And that was all Tony needed.

There was hope.

Peter could be saved.

Scooping up a blanket sitting on one of the chairs, Tony draped it over the kid's shoulders. Peter stiffened for a moment then exhaled, letting himself relax into the wool.

"She knew how much you love her. I can promise you that." He planted a kiss on the kid's head.

The kid shook, his quiet breathing fragmented and raw. Tony pulled him close, feeling the kid shake in his arms. He just held him close, allowing Peter to let it all out. The kid clutched Tony's sleeve as he cried. Tony squeezed a little tighter in response, a silent message that he was there to stay.

Time passed, the setting rays of the sun shifting across the wood.

The kid's breathing smoothed out, becoming deep and steady. He didn't make a move to escape Tony's hug, and Tony didn't make a move to take it away.

Once he was sure the wave had passed them by, Tony unlatched one arm, leaving one still wrapped around Peter's shoulders.

"I promised Morgan a celebratory souflé and I have no clue how to make that." He squeezed Peter's shoulder a little, "can you help a guy out?"

Peter exhaled through his nose in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. He nodded, "sure. But I don't know how much help I'll actually be."

"I only have an hour to make it, so I'll take anything I can get."

"Why souflé of all things?"

Tony shrugged and opened the door for them. "Goes with the theme apparently. Pepper said that since she won the science fair, souflé would be a good fit as a quote-on-quote 'sciency dessert'."

The kid chuckled softly, making Tony's heart warm. "How can you argue with that? I don't think we're gonna be able to make souflé in an hour though."

"Well then I guess we better get to work quickly."

Rolling his eyes, Peter followed Tony's lead. Despite neither one having a single clue how to bake, they made the best souflé on the planet. It was perfect. Pepper was ecstatic and so was Morgan.

That was a lie. They failed miserably. It didn't work out at all and they pretty much all ended up eating deflated, slightly undercooked, kinda funny-tasting chocolate cake for dessert.

But it was a good time. Truly. Morgan was ecstatic, happily chowing down on her surprise celebratory treat while Pepper politely forced herself to keep it down not for Tony's sake, but Peter's. The kid kept trying to tell her she didn't have to eat it, but she would smile each time, saying she loved it. The kid himself didn't seem to mind the taste, although his appetite still wasn't big.

It was a good evening, everyone laughing, smiling and chatting.

Tony wished it could always be this way.

. . .

"This is it, Boss." FRIDAY chimed in Tony's ear.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember." With a sigh, Tony approached the building. "Weird window. Was that there last time?"

Before his knuckles could make contact with the wood, the door swung open on its own. Tony raised an eyebrow then stepped through. The same dramatic stairway met him.

"No, it wasn't. But only 'cause your friend blasted a hole through the roof right where it was supposed to be." The doctor's words echoed through the empty space as he stepped through a doorway to the left. He greeted Tony with a nod. "Stark. What brings you here this time?"

Tony held up a finger. "To be accurate, this is my first time voluntarily seeking you out. Every other time was you bringing me here."

The man bobbed his head to the side once, "fair enough."

Tony's eyes scanned the room. "You got whiskey?"

Rolling his eyes, the doctor nodded and waved his weird magical hands. A portal sparked to life and they stepped through it to find themselves in what must've been the study. A bottle of whiskey and some glasses sat on an ancient coffee table, a couple chairs surrounding it.

Tony b-lined for the whiskey, filling a glass up and then plopping himself in a chair.

"That's a neat trick, you know, don't know if I ever mentioned it." Tony nodded to where the portal had stood.

"Mm." Stephen agreed, taking a seat himself. "So. What brings you here for the first time? What did the great Iron Man do this time?"

"Actually I'm here-" Tony downed half of his whiskey all in one swig "-not as Iron Man. You're a doctor, I need some advice."

Stephen quirked an eyebrow, eyes flicking down to the half-empty glass. "If you're gonna ask me to check your prostate…"

Tony exhaled a laugh through his nose. "You wish." He finished off his whiskey, which Stephen replenished with a wave of his hand. Tony nodded in thanks. "Someone I know is struggling with addiction. I want to help him, but… I want… I wanna make sure I do it right."

Biting the inside of his cheek, Stephen internally sighed."Peter?"

Shock flashed across Stark's face. He sat back, face falling. "You…" His surprise turned into a mixture of confusion and wariness, like he was waiting to decide whether or not to be angry. "How?"

Stephen's jaw tightened. "He's… He's why I brought you back."

Tony choked. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because… well, he isn't exactly my biggest fan." He shrugged. "I knew you'd find out pretty quick. I didn't… I didn't want to…" He cleared his throat. "I figured the farther I kept from it all, the better his chance of getting help. Like I said, we didn't end on the best foot last time we saw each other."

Tony's face twitched. "Yeah I've been meaning to ask you, what was this whole memory spell shit I've been hearing about?"

Raking a hand through his hair, Stephen blew a raspberry. "That's a whole other topic, Stark, and I don't think I have enough whiskey to get you through it. How 'bout we stick to the more pressing matter. Addiction alters brain function, most notably the hypothalamus. If he were to suddenly go without whatever he's using - it's an opioid, right?" Stark nodded, having forced himself to relax back into his chair, already pouring himself yet another glass of liquor. "His dopamine levels will plummet. This is gonna sound scary, and it is, but you gotta make sure he doesn't become suicidal."

Tony choked again, whiskey splashing out of his glass. "Wha- I didn't think- He-"

"Yeah." Stephen shifted. "Close to half of all people who try to get clean outside of a rehab facility end up dying from suicide. Not many people know that."

"Fuck…"

"But with a support system, they can get through it." Stephen's face twisted in thought. "Normally it takes months for the brain to start producing adequate dopamine, but the kid's got that super healing crap going on, so it'll probably happen quicker. Can't be sure though, so be careful with that. Antidepressants can help, but be careful which ones you use. I can't write him a prescription, but talk to me if you decide to go that route."

Tony blew a raspberry, face tense. A hand covered the entire bottom half of his face. His eyes stared fixed on a random spot on the table. A storm brewed in his irises, twisting, swirling, and turbulent.

He stayed that way for a solid minute, breathing perturbed.

Finally he removed his hand and inhaled. "I don't know what to do. I… I can honestly say I never saw this coming. You know. He was such a happy kid. Or… I thought he was. Maybe he never was, but he'd acted like it. And now…"

"Addiction can hit anyone," the doctor concurred.

A heartbeat passed and Tony shifted in his seat. "Yeah, well it is what it is. What matters is getting him clean. So, in your professional opinion, what do I do? How do I help him, what are my options? Just- just tell me. How do I help him?"

Stephen sighed. There was no clear answer. There was no 'one-size-fits-all'. "I don't know what to tell you, Tony. If you've decided to get him clean, just know… the process, it- it isn't going to be pretty. It takes about a week to get opioids out of the system enough to not cause withdrawals. But the cravings are going to last… well, forever. With time and a better psyche, they won't be as strong, but… addiction is a chronic illness."

"But he can learn to live with it. To keep it at bay?"

"Yeah, yeah, he can, but getting him clean in the first place is going to hurt." He paused, gauging whether to say what he was going to. He'd always believed being honest was the way to go. "He's gonna hate you."

The sun dipped behind clouds, casting a dull grey gloom across the room. "I know." Tony's voice was grave, shadows casted across his face, making him look years older. "I know. But, he'll be safe. And that's what matters."

Placing the empty glass on the coffee table, Tony stood, signalling the end of their conversation.

Part of Stephen regretted how little help he'd been, but he also knew there was nothing more he could do. It wasn't math: there was no clear answer, no pattern, no equation to solve. Addiction was unique to each person, it was an open-ended question, it derived from numerous sources.

There wasn't anything to do but listen and hope and try.

As futile and vexing as it was.

It was all you could do.

Stephen followed Tony out of the study. "In time, he'll see you saved him, I'm sure. But you need to be prepared to take a few hits. Emotionally and possibly physically. Can you do that?"

The man nodded, pace not slowing as he reached the entryway stairs. "Yeah, I know how to take some damage."

The words made Stephen pause for a moment. With how pretentious he acted all the time, it was easy to forget that Stark had a great deal of baggage himself.

"Thanks doc." A chill blew through the room as the front door was opened.

"Tony." Stephen's tone made the man look back. "I hope it works."

"Yeah," Tony nodded, "yeah me too."

. . .

A knocking on the door startled him out of his bliss. He whisper-yelled 'FUCK' and tossed the joint into the toilet. It was almost completely burned at that point anyway. Swiping at the air in the hopes of disbursing more of the smell out the window, Peter threw the door open. His stalker's face stared back at him with his signature raised eyebrow.

"Where's your whiskey?" Peter blurted out. A glass in the man's hand was the only other signature item missing from his typical look.

"What?" Tony's other eyebrow shot up.

"You're usually drinking whiskey," Peter explained and skirted around him, continuing his venture to… wherever his legs were taking him. Before he knew it, he was out of the bedroom and making his way down the hall.

The footsteps right behind him indicated Tony was following. "FRI told me you were in the bathroom for a while. I was making sure you weren't dead."

Peter side-eyed the man for a moment before jumping over the banister. He landed at the beginning of the main-floor hall, just outside the kitchen. He knew where he was going now. He was hungry. He wondered if they had any pizza pops.

They did not.

Huffing, Peter hopped onto the counter and dug into his pocket.

"You do know we have a table, right?" Tony grumbled, entering a few moments later.

Peter made no move to get off the island. He swung his feet and looked out into the centre part of the house, dimly lit by the moonlight flooding though the giant windows. It was a beautiful home. But it felt so big at times. Too big. "Yeah."

Tony's eyes flickered to the orange bottle clasped in Peter's hand. "What's in the bottle?"

"I'm a lost cause." The kid answered instead, toying with the bottle's lid. "Practically insane. I wouldn't be surprised if I fit in a psych ward."

"You would not. You're sick. You're just making some bad decisions right now."

"Bad habits, right?" He shrugged and slipped the pill between his teeth. "I'm six feet deep into madness."

"God you're dramatic sometimes." Tony huffed and snatched the pill bottle out of Peter's hand. Slipping it into his pocket, Tony turned his attention to the sink behind him, a small pile of dishes in it. Rolling up his sleeves he got to work. "You could be a poet. Thought I told you not to do this shit out in the open."

"I didn't snort it. I thought it was fine."

"No matter what it is, you keep it out of the open. I don't want any of this crap around Morgan."

There was pause. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah well, you don't have to hide it at all if you stopped doing that shit."

"You know I can't do that."

"Yes, yes you can. I already told you, I'll help."

A moment of silence passed. "No."

Tony couldn't stop himself from throwing the dish in his hand down. He heard it break in the water. Hands digging into the counter, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm down.

He didn't know how to get through to the kid. Every time, every time goddamn time, he was shut down.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He could try and force it: take the drugs and just keep the kid away from them. But that would be like locking him up in a goddam cell. He didn't want to do that.

He wanted the kid to want to be clean.

He wanted Peter to come to him for help when he was ready.

But Tony could never forgive himself if he overdosed all the while with Tony just waiting around doing nothing.

Fuck.

He was gonna have to force the rehab, wasn't he?

Not like he hadn't prepared for the possibility. He'd been working on it since day one of all this crap.

This wasn't how he wanted to do it, but the kid had given no indication that he had any intention of taking the steps himself.

So fuck it.

Tony was gonna be the fucking bad guy.

Letting out a breath, Tony turned around. He paused. The kid's eyes were zeroed in on him, face reticent. His eyes dipped to the sink holding the broken dish, then up to Tony. There was something in his face that Tony couldn't quite place, but didn't like nonetheless.

Tony cleared his throat. "The plate slipped."

The kid's expression didn't waver. He wasn't moving, either. His eyes flickered down to the sink once more. Tony could've sworn he looked uncertain.

Then he suddenly relaxed, face becoming tired once more. "You want me to get out all the pieces?"

Tony shook his head, one part answering the question and another to dispel the odd feeling Peter had just given off. "It's fine."

"I heal faster than you if I get cut, remember."

"I remember. No one's gonna get cut, FRI will handle it."

"On it, Boss."

Tony wiped a hand down his face, inhaling deeply. "Wanna go for a drive?" The kid tilted his head, definitely uncertain. "Need something from the lab at the Tower, because clearly-" he rattled the orange bottle in his pocket "-I won't be getting any sleep tonight."

The kid bit the inside of his cheek, eyes dipping, "sorry." He sighed and after a few moments of quiet thinking, shrugged. "Sure."

. . .

They drove in silence.

Through his peripheral, Tony noticed the kid's eyes flicker to him every so often. But Tony barely paid it any mind. His mind was swirling, knowing what he was about to do. The whole drive was a blur, eventually ending with his car in the parking lot. His fingers ached as he released the wheel, skin peeling away from the leather. He'd had a death grip on the thing.

Opening the door, he gestured for Peter to follow. The kid did.

As they walked, Tony kept having to call the kid's attention back to the present. His big brown eyes kept wandering every surface like it was all made of gold.

"I've never been inside the Tower before," he eventually said when they'd, painstakingly slowly, made it to the elevator.

Tony thought for a second. "I guess you haven't have you?"

The doors closed in front of them and the elevator started gliding upwards. The kid shook his head. "I remember when you first built it. It was so cool - still is. I'd wanted to see the inside forever. Can't believe I finally get to see it." He smiled, the crinkle in his eyes making Tony's heart squeeze. He was about to like the tower a lot less in a few minutes.

The elevator came to a swift and smooth stop. But not on the floor of the lab.

Tony stepped out, the kid following suit.

Making their way deep into the centre of the floor, they came to a set of heavy vibranium doors. A light scanned Tony. A second passed and the doors opened.

"Wow. That's some intense security," Peter muttered.

The room they entered was a nice size, but not too big. Two nooks, about 20x20 feet each in size were separated by a wall. Each had a bed, bedside table, and a half wall hiding a toilet and an outdoor-style shower behind it.

The nooks opened up to the rest of the room. It was a bright white room.

"This is the lab?" Peter questioned, now standing just in front of one of the nooks, eyebrows knitted.

Tony didn't respond.

Taking a steadying breath, his suit formed around him. The kid turned just in time to see Tony's gauntlet raise. A blast of air rammed into Peter, sending him falling back onto his butt.

Into one of the nooks.

Or their more accurate name: cells.

Instantly, a wall of clear glass formed in the opening, cutting off the cell from the rest of the room.

"What's-" the kid scowled and pushed himself up. His face suddenly twisted into a half-amused, half-angry expression. He scoffed and walked up to the glass. "Come on, Tony, you're kidding, right? Let me out."

Tony held his gaze. His voice was quiet as he spoke, "I can't do that, kid." He tapped his watch. "Nanotech. Found a way to make it clear. You can't break through it."

Something started to shift in Peter's eyes. "Ok joke's over, open the cell, it's not funny anymore." A pause. "Seriously, Tony, open the goddamn cell. Let me out. Tony. Tony, seriously, I'm not fucking kidding, let me out. You're not seriously gonna keep me locked up in a fucking cell, are you? Like I'm a criminal or something?" He scoffed and took a step back, crossing his arms. "Did Jameson finally get to you? All you rich bastards are the same after all."

Tony clenched his jaw. It wasn't like he wasn't expecting this. He knew that the kid was gonna say some things he didn't mean. And this wasn't even the start of it.

Tony couldn't lie. He was dreading what would come out later, when things got real.

"You know what? Fuck you. Let me out, we're done. I swear to god, we are fucking finished, you and I."

Tony watched him for a few moments, listening to him chew him out. Taking a steadying breath, he made a decision.

Tony swore he could hear the kid's face fall as he turned and started walking away. Desperation laced his voice. "Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark?! No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Plea- please, Mr. Stark, don't leave me in here! Please don't leave me here! Mr. Sta- MR. STARK! PLEASE! DON-" the door behind Tony shut, cutting off the kid's cries.

Tony had to lean back to keep himself upright, heart hammering in his chest so hard, he dimly wondered if it was going to give-out.

It was going to be a long night.

It was going to be a long week.