disclaimer: do not own mcu or their characters. Sophia is an OC.
restart my heart
the comfort show
time frame; september — a few days later
Stark Residence
"No! No! No!" Morgan screams. Throwing a small white bottle of moisturizer against Sophia's bedroom wall. Face drenched with tears.
"It's okay, Morgan. We can play tomorrow. I promise. I'll even put a curling rod in your hair too." Sophia tries to console her. Brushing her sister's brown hair to the side. The pink silk rod in Sophia's own hair is tightly wrapped and immovable.
"No!" Morgan wails again. Shoving Sophia's hand away. "I don't want to sleep." Morgan scoots further back on the floor. Back hitting Sophia's bed frame.
"Morgan, it's bedtime. For you and me." Pepper kneels in front of the angry toddler. Hands out and palms facing the ceiling. "Aren't you tired? I'm tired."
"No!" Morgan cries again. This time rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists. Sophia swallows a laugh and stretches over to grab her skin care basket. Placing it right in front of her position on the floor. Having pulled it out earlier to do her night skin and hair routine with Morgan as a game. Complete with serums, creams, extra heatless curl rods, make-up wipes, and moisturizers.
"Well, even if you aren't tired. I'm definitely tired. I can't play with you tomorrow if I'm sleeping all day." Sophia adds in gently. Taking the product bottles and tubes one at a time to fill the wooden basket. The corners are sharp enough it snags the fabric of her sweatpants.
Morgan shakes her head and yanks on the basket. Dumping all of Sophia's lotions and serums out once again and accidentally tearing a hole above the ankle cuff of her black sweatpants. Glass bottles and her anti-wrinkle creams roll across the hardwood floor.
"What if we don't go to sleep? Do you want to read a book with mommy? We can just sit on the couch and read as many books as you want." Pepper asks. Handing back the skin supplies to Sophia.
Grabbing them, she drags the basket back in front of her.l with a deep sigh. Eyes never leaving Morgan's grief stricken ones. Her bottom lip quivering.
"I want daddy to read." Morgan whispers.
Sophia stills. Her heart leaps into her throat and jaw clenched. She lets her eyes drop to the floor. Unable to look her baby sister in the eye.
"I want daddy." Morgan repeats again.
She could feel her throat tighten and eyes sting. Tightening her hold on the glass serum bottle, she lets out a shaky breath. Morgan will never have years of memories or moments with their dad that Sophia does. Most of her memories will be forgotten and lost. Only a few photos exist to remind her that he was there.
Sophia can't tell if she's jealous of her sister or not. If she had never known a world with Tony, Iron Man — their dad, would it hurt less?
Would this new normal, this new world, feel more comfortable? More inviting? Happier?
Would she be less broken?
Instead, her heart is heavy and mind is clouded. All she yearns for is to take the stupid crystals herself and go back and change everything.
"I know. I do too." Pepper gathers Morgan with one hand and wraps the other around Sophia. Giving a squeeze. "I wish he was here too. But I'm here. I'll always be here."
Sophia bit back the urge to ask if she was sure about that. How could she possibly know that given their jobs and connections? Anyone could pop out from any planet, any universe, from anywhere and shake their world again.
Why feed them false dreams?
"I love you, mom." Sophia's voice cracks. Closing her eyes tight and letting her head rest against her mom's blonde hair.
"I love you too." Pepper gives one last squeeze. The tips of her pointed nails digging into her shoulder.
Sophia doesn't mind. It's a reminder that her last parent is real. Alive and moving right next to her.
"Come on, Morgan. Let's go get ready for bed." Pepper stands. Both arms wrapped around the youngest Stark laying against her chest.
Sophia waves at Morgan as Pepper carries her off down the hall. Morgan's small hand waving weakly in the air and her chubby cheek smushed against their mom's shoulder. Tears shining in the light of the room.
"Goodnight, mom. Morgan." Sophia softly calls out. Bending down to shove the rest of her skin product into the basket before kicking it off to the side. It's a future Sophia problem. Not a tonight problem.
"Goodnight…but Sophia?" Pepper pauses in the doorway of the bedroom. One foot out the door.
"Yeah?"
There's a pause. Her mom shifted Morgan in her arms and let the tips of manicured fingers glide up and down her sister's back. Pepper gives her a once over. Eyebrows knitted together.
"I know so can't stop you…but please be safe." She finally responds. Promptly turning away from her and rounding the corner of the hall before Sophia could respond.
Confused, Sophia slowly steps up to the doorway of her room. Quietly shutting the door behind her and setting the lights to a low dim. She's not sure how much safer she could be in her own bed. Especially with her favorite coffee shop being closed so late at night. There was no reason for her to leave the penthouse.
"Friday, turn on my comfort show, please." Sophia pushes back her comforters and rearranges her pillows into one large pile. Angled enough to sit her upright while laying down in bed. Mind still whirling.
"I must remind you that you need to be up early for an appointment with Agent Hill, Sophia." Friday's voice is soft and gentle. Quiet in the night.
"I know, I know." Sophia groans as she lays in her bed. Positioned perfectly across from the tv mounted above her dresser. "I just want to decompress for an hour or two."
Definitely will have more than enough to tell Hill in their hourlong therapy tomorrow, Sophia thinks with amusement. Between Harley and Morgan tearing down her emotional barriers, it's a mystery how she finds any moment of peace.
"Ok. I will turn it off after an hour."
The screen of the room tv lights up. "Two." Sophia rebuttals.
"An hour and a half." Friday responds definitively.
Sophia lets out a low chuckle. Leaning back into her pillows and blankets pulled to her chin. "Thank you!" Sophia chimes out. Nestling in further into her queen sized bed. Rubbing her fuzzy sock covered feet together.
"So no one told you life was gonna be this way."
Leaning back, taking in a deep breath and letting out a slow exhale, she let the tears start to flow. Silently. Softly roll down her cheeks. The scenes displaying across her tv screen become faded and out of focus. Her breath hitches and shoulders curve inwards into her blankets.
"Damn it." Sophia hisses. Burying her face into her blanket. She has been doing so good lately. Stopping the late nights. Fewer nightmares. Less regret. Feeling stronger. Normal. She was finally okay.
It took one sentence to destroy it all.
Her dad's voice swirls in her mind. Full of love and laughter. Teasing her and singing her to sleep. Memories that Morgan has probably already forgotten. He's just a presence her sister will mourn forever without ever knowing how he truly is. Was. Outside the article and rumors and documentaries.
While Sophia gets to be haunted by the ghost of him.
"Sophia, I suggest you let him in before he wakes up the other occupants in the house." Friday's robotic feminine voice cuts through the air.
Jolting from her position, Sophia lifts her head up. Confusion sliding across her face. "Who?" She asks. Looking directly across the room at her tv. She's on the 46th floor. The only person that would be stupid enough and skilled enough to possibly…
Sophia rubs her hands up and down her face. Skin slightly tacky from the moisture she let Morgan put on her face. "Open the balcony doors please, Friday."
The glass door barely slides halfway open before Peter tumbles in. Backpack being discarded to the floor haphazardly. His black and red suit painfully stands out in contrast to the soft pale neutrals of her bedroom.
"Hey, Soph!" Peter waves. The eyes of his suit glow. "I knew you'd be awake."
Throwing her blankets off, Sophia slides down to her feet and off the bed with huff. "What are you doing here, Peter?" She sighs. Meeting him at her balcony door.
"I wanted to see…" Peter abruptly stops. Masked fingers pointed at her. "What's going on with your hair?"
Rolling her eyes, Sophia shoves his hand down. "It curls my hair overnight."
"Does that mean you sleep in that thing?" He asks, bringing his pointer finger up, carefully jabbing the silk pink rod peeking through her hair.
"Don't change the subject, Peter. What are you doing here? Don't we spend enough time together?" She takes a step back. Letting his finger fall away.
Pushing down the growing feeling of annoyance, Sophia cautiously pats the top of her head. Skin of her fingers grazing against her silk curling rod to check if it's still in place. Brown hair tightly wrapped around.
Peter quickly shoves his mask above his eyes. The fabric folds and wrinkles in layers, hiding his brows. "I wanted to see you." Peter says with ease. As if it's perfectly natural to be together. As if they've never been apart. Like she's the crazy one for even questioning why he'd be here.
If she's going to be completely honest with herself, she can see where he's coming from. Sometimes it feels like it was always meant to be like this.
But it's still weird, this new normal. She loves and hates it at the same time.
Maybe she is the crazy one.
"Is that so?" She walks back to lean against the edge of her bed. Fingers still poking and prodding at her hair.
"I brought you your favorite. Well, your old favorite. From the before. Wing Stop fries with the ranch, of course." Peter pulls the greasy takeaway bag from his backpack proudly.
And sometimes, like a flip of a switch, her stomach fills with disgust and a lump of emotion she can't identify as anything other than pure nausea gets stuck in her throat.
"Shouldn't you be, I don't know, saving a cat from a tree or retrieving lost bikes?" Sophia sighs. Rubbing her left side of her face with one hand.
"I got bored patrolling and thought about you. Thought we could scale buildings together." His grin is wide. Eyes glowing with excitement.
Sophia's hand freezes in place at his sentence. Hovering near her head. It feels like her mind needs time to reboot. His smile and the way he just…exists. The feeling makes her a pile of goo. A comforted pile of goo. Like when her mom brushes her hair or Morgan holds her hand when they cross the street.
She goes back and forth between it being a good thing or a bad one on a near daily basis.
Her stomach turns, flips, and flutters. The sensation made her bite on her cheek to fight the urge to run out and empty her stomach of the bundle of nerves. Peter leans forward. Bouncing on the balls of his feet. Mouth moving but no sounds are coming out.
Sophia couldn't stop staring. Confused why Peter is standing in her room. Happy. Smiling. Acting like she's his very best friend and the world isn't in the state it's in. That they aren't four years apart yet also the same age.
Was this really meant to be? Was this a sick twist of fate that brought them together or a punishment?
He smiles at her like they were meant to be here, at this moment, together. Only her and him. His eyes crinkle at the edges. Brown strands of hair peeking out from his suit. Faint memories, begging to come to the forefront, tug at the back of her mind. Memories she would rather be left forgotten.
She doesn't know if she should smile and take his hand to follow his lead or shove him away and choose to stay wallowing in misery inside her self made pit of doom.
"So, what do you say?" Peter asks. Finally leaning back and leaving her personal space. Placing the fries on her bedside table.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure." Sophia blinks at him. Hand falling to her side.
"Awesome. I don't think we've ever been around the city together in our suits before. I've seen it in photos and of course, you know, that night. But not in an everyday setting. I can't wait to see it in action." Peter rambles. Moving to sit on the beige bench placed at the end of her bed.
"Wait." Sophia shakes her head rigorously. Reality start to catch up to her. "Wait, no. I'm not. I can't. I can't wear the suit. My suit." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
"I'm not ready yet." She says, voice thick and unsteady.
"That's okay. I can still swing us around. Just have to cover you up so no one sees you. Just like last time." Peter smiles in her direction while pulling his mask completely off his head. "Or, we can stay here and watch Friends. Whatever you're comfortable with Soph."
"Thank you." The relief and tension comes off of her in waves. A part of her scared this would become another repeated argument similar to the one with Harley. A never ending loop of arguments she seems doomed to have over and over again.
With Harley, with the world, students passing the ball, and random strangers on the internet constantly questioning where Iron Man's daughter and protege is when the world needs heroes the most.
But she doesn't think she could ever look at any of the Iron Suits for the rest of her life. They will always be haunted and cursed in her mind.
"Let's watch Friends." Peter stands up. Pushing the down in the center of his silver bracelets. His nanotech suit disappears in a flash into his wrists. Leaving him standing in a plain white tee and sweatpants.
"That honestly sounds amazing right now." Sophia says tiredly. Leaning over her bed to readjust the pillows comfortably for two versus the giant side pile she had earlier.
"Okay, I'm going to the bathroom real quick. My shirt keeps getting caught on something and it itches." Peter turns on his heels. Hands pulling on the back of his shirt.
"Probably a tag." Sophia mumbles, moving to the foot of her bed where a decorative storage bench lies. Tossing down the decorative pillows sitting on top of her bench, she flips open the lid. The emotional weight of the day having her ready to go ahead and collapse onto the floor then and there and forget about making her bed comfortable enough for two.
"Why do you keep it so cold in here? Are you trying to turn into a popsicle?" Peter hollers through the closed bathroom door.
Taking her fingers to her temples, she rubs vicious circles into them. "The AC is only at 64. Be honored I have it that high for you."
"Question still stands. Are you wanting to be a popsicle?"
The steady pounding in her head gets louder. Groaning, Sophia digs deeper into the storage bench at the end of her bed. Pushing away extra blankets and the seemingly endless supply of seasonal throw pillows. Digging around to look for her cooling eye mask.
Spotting a sleek blue box, Sophia quickly grabs it. Tipping it upside down and giving a shake.
"Dang it." She mutters, when nothing comes out. Tossing the empty box right back inside. Digging further down to now try and find her baby blanket.
She really needs to start organizing better. Or hire that organization crew from that one show on Netflix. They seemed fun. She does have a lot of stuff in her room, she muses. They could probably make it look better too.
"Can I bother you for a sec, Soph?" Peter does a whisper mixed shout from her bathroom.
She rolls her eyes. Not pausing in her tasks to grab extra blankets out of the storage bench. "You're always bothering me but continue."
This stupid box is starting to feel like Mary Poppins bag.
"Do you have a first aid kit?" Peter asks, head popping out of the bathroom.
Pausing her movements. Sophia slowly stands up. Hands letting go of the small blankets to fall right straight back down. "What?"
"Do you have a first aid kit?" Peter asks again. Disappearing back into her bathroom. Leaving the door open.
"I didn't mean 'what' as in I didn't hear you. What as in why?" Sophia, with heavy annoyance and slight concern clouding over her, Sophia drags her feet to the bathroom door. A heavy pit of dread settles in the pool of her belly.
Finding Peter shirtless and twisting and turning to look at a small gash on his lower back. Blood having already crusted over. Skin around the edges of the wound is bright red mixed with blues and green splotches.
Sophia's own back throbs just looking at the size of the bruise.
"There is a miniature first aid kit in the bottom drawer, Mr.Parker." Friday supplies.
"Thanks, Friday! And please stop calling me that." Peter says cheerfully. Swiftly pulling out the white box and onto the countertop.
"It is in my program that I address everyone accordingly."
"What did you do?" Sophia steps forward, grabbing and wetting a washcloth to gently pat the area. Fully numb.
She feels like she's having an out of body experience. Peter's voice has an odd filter. Distorted. The sound of his voice is practically buzzing in her ears by the time she's fully processed what he's saying.
"I was distracted. Didn't make a wide enough swing and was scraped by one of those statues on a corner of a building. Nothing too crazy." He shrugs.
Nothing crazy? Something as simple as a turn shouldn't be getting the best of him. Sophia clicks her tongue. Swinging, he had said in the past, was the easiest (and best) part of being Spider-Man.
Squeezing the cool gel on her fingertips, she hesitates. Biting her lip, she asks. "Do you promise?"
Is this life worth it? How could the suit be worth this? It's something she'll never understand. Lying to friends and family. Risking your life and theirs for a thrill and multi-billion dollar suits.
She hates this life. She hates it so much.
"Hm?" Peter looks over his shoulder at her. Sophia lowers her head. Eyes pointed towards her feet.
"Do you promise that's all it was?" She repeats with more bite.
This lifestyle has taken enough from her.
"Yeah. I wouldn't lie to you about that." Peter tells her gently. Ducking his head back into his shirt.
Sophia places her pointer finger on the gash. Careful to rub the gel in gentle circles. She swears the gash got smaller in the few seconds she looked away.
Shaking her head, she turns to the bathroom sink. Twisting the handles to run water over her hands. Scrubbing and squeezing her fingers hard.
She needs the blood stains to go away. Go away, go away, go away. Her stomach twists and clenches uncomfortably when the red water swirls at the bottom.
Stupid Spider.
"Be more careful next time. I'm not a nurse." She tells him sternly and removes her fingers from the sink. Grabbing the bottles and bandages before shoving them into their box and roughly shutting the claps.
Looking up, Sophia gazes into the mirror. Eyes immediately raises to meet Peter's brown ones. Several emotions flicker through his eyes. Too fast for Sophia to identify.
Staring at him, she can't help but notice the puffy bags under his eyes. How his shirt seems to hang off his body. His posture slightly slumped at the shoulders and movement sluggish despite his cheerful demeanor when he grabs the first aid kit out of her hands. Placing it back in its place inside the lower cabinet
How had she not noticed before?
Turning with furrowed brows, she opens her mouth to ask.
"Let's go to bed, eat some greasy food, and watch friends." Peter cuts her off. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Sophia pulls and tugs on her fingers. The anxious flutters around her heart come again in full force. Making her feel uncomfortable in her own skin. This isn't right.
Him doing this, risking everything — risking himself, its not right.
Peter places one hand on her shoulder and tilts his head. "Wait, I can't be in your bed. Do you have an air mattress? That bench is a little too small for me." Peter brushes past her and out the bathroom without looking back.
"We can share a bed. It's not like we're alone." Sophia shrugs, trailing behind him.
"Who else is here?" Peter looks taken back. Eyes scanning the room in confusion.
"I am here, of course, Mr.Parker." Friday's sensor on the ceiling blinks red. "I'm always watching."
"You should know by now Friday sees and hears everything. She'd stop anything unseemly." Now thinking about it, she's certain Friday alerted mom of Peter's presence long before Sophia herself was aware he was even here.
"That's not creepy at all." Peter shoots her a blank look.
Shrugging, Sophia walks around the bed. She can't agree or disagree. Having grown accustomed to multiple AI's in the home. She's been with them for most of her life. In a weird way they're just as much family as Happy or Rhodes is. Being under their watchful "eyes" and unprompted commentary was a comfort. It would be weirder to not have them around.
It was nice to talk to someone when it felt like the world was ripped out from underneath you.
"Are you going to be at May's charity event? Stark industries will be making a donation to the homeless shelter she's been volunteering at." Sophia asks. Crawling her way to the center of the bed.
"Yeah but as Spider-Man to gain more press for her. It's in December, right? Are you going to be there to represent — you're hogging all the space." Peter shoves his shoulder into hers. Pushing her slightly off center.
"It's my bed. Besides, I gave you the left side of it. This is a king sized bed so you have plenty of room." She fluffs out her comforter. Letting it flutter in the air and fall on their laps. "And I think so. Mom wants me too."
"You're kind of a brat." Peter chuckles, taking her in stride. Shoving her more to the right side of the bed so she's slightly off center.
"Well, I am a Stark. Don't expect anything less." Sophia tells him with a tone that he should obviously know and expect it.
"Wouldn't dream of it." He shoots her a teasing grin and leans back against the pillow. Sitting at an angle.
"Good. Now hand over the fries." Sophia makes a grabbing motion.
Food for the soul. Isn't that how the saying goes?
"It's really weird you don't eat wings but are still obsessed with the restaurant." Peter places the styrofoam box between the two.
"The ranch is addicting. The fries are really just a vessel to feed myself more ranch." To prove her point, Sophia takes a fry and dunks it completely. The fry barely survives under the weight of the sauce.
Comfortable silence falls between the two of them. Only a few laughs and commentary as the episodes go by. Feeling the most relaxed she has in days. Hopefully not jinxing it but also the happiest she's been. Lazing in bed after a day with her sister and mom. Watching her comfort show with her friend. It was finally the sense of normalcy she's been yearning for.
She can't help but grin so wide it hurts despite the headache steadily growing from lack of sleep. Sophia occasionally points out her favorite scenes and outfits Rachel wears. Which eccentric hairstyles of Phoebe's she just adored.
Her personal favorite of Rachel's being the all black ensemble of a mini skirt and black heeled boots. To which Peter claimed he wasn't surprised in the least. Peter nods along. Taking everything she said as if she was sharing Avenger level secrets. Filing away the information with utmost importance despite it all being completely useless.
The two sit back shoulder to shoulder. The only light glowing across their faces came from the mounted flat screen. Sophia had asked Friday to turn off the light three episodes ago.
"I think Ross is the best character." Peter nods his head yes once.
"I'm the holiday armadillo!"
"Yeah, definitely Ross."
Leaning to the side, Sophia shoots him a look of disbelief. "Chandler is obviously the best character."
"Hold on. Hold on!" Peter displays his hands out. "Wait, Rachel isn't your favorite?" Peter turns to look at her. Equally just as confused.
"No. Chandler is funny, smart, and relatable. Loyal to his friends." She ticks off each mention with a finger
"You, of all people, the Miss Sophia Stark, don't find Rachel relatable? Interesting. Okay." Peter barks out a laugh then quickly muffles it with the back of his hand.
"What's that supposed to mean? She takes advantage of Monica who is supposed to be her best friend. She's bratty. Definitely broke-up with Ross. It was not a "break" and she only shows interest in him when he's taken by other women. She's a mess. A fashionable mess but a mess." Sophia crosses her arm across her chest.
"Nothing. Nothing. I just find it interesting." Peter laughs. Hands up with his palms out. "I just pegged you for a Rachel girl. Same style and all."
Sophia gives him a flat look.
"Can we at least agree that Ross is the best?"
Peter laughs. Brown eyes shining as he looks her over. "Best jokes. Best physical comedy. I mean look at that face."
"How is Ross possibly the best? He can never admit when he's wrong. Always have to be right. Arrogant. Sexist. Dated a student. Never sees his son." Sophia leans in closer with intensity.
"The whole thing with Emily was just plain cruel of him. Oh and kissing his cousin and Rachel's sister! Just awful. Don't forget about him lying to Rachel about being secretly married to her either. Honestly, he is the most flawed…"
Sophia could go on and on but the amusement shining in Peter's eyes made her stop.
Puffing out her cheeks, she slithers deeper into her bed. Pointedly looking away from him. Cheeks flaring in embarrassment with how passionate she got.
"No, no keep going. I rarely see this much emotional output from you. I want to hear more." Peter throws his head back in a fit of laughter.
"It's not that funny." Sophia grumbles. Turning on to her side. Bringing her blankets to her chin.
"Awe. Come on, Soph. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I genuinely liked hearing your rants. It was nice. It's a different side of you." Peter nudges her shoulder with his hand. Slightly shaking her back and forth.
"It's so stupid. Just forget about it." Sophia sighs.
"Soph," Peter says her name like he's humming a song or lullaby. Fingers removing themselves from her shoulder.
She could feel the mattress dip while he shuffled around. Blankets shifting. Trying to move her blankets away from her but she keeps a tight grip.
"I'm not upset. I'm tired." And embarrassed, she adds mentally. It was such a stupid thing to get passionate about.
But she also felt a bit of excitement. Ranting and raving like a teenage girl. Being able to be highly opinionated without scrutiny or fear of someone running off to the tabloids with her inner thoughts. To have that complete trust in someone.
To not be an otherworldly woman on the front of magazines with millions of eyes and high expectations of who she has to be or should be.
It's nice.
"Sophia!" Peter drags out the vowel at the end of her name with a yawn.
"Peteeeeeer" Sophia yawns. Cheek pressing against her pillow.
"You sound like you don't even like the show." Peter snickers.
Gasping, very dramatically, Sophia glares at him over her shoulder. "I love the show."
Peter hums out a faint okay. Laying back into the bed. Letting their conversation fall to an end. The sound of his deep breathing mixed with the laughter from the tv echoes in the room. The noise gives her a sense of unbelievable solace and relief. His presence even more so. Can't help but feel like having Spider-Man in her room is enough to scare off any nightmares that may come for her in the night.
Her own personal bodyguard and hero. As much as she hates the profession he chose, it does have its perks.
She snuggles the blanket held up against her face and sighs. Feeling the curling rod in her hair dig into her skull but too tired to care. No where near motivated enough to sleep properly in it or get up to fix it. She never wanted to leave her bed again. She can't remember the last time it was this cozy and inviting.
Sophia shifts again. Raising one leg above the other under the comforter. Consciousness teetering on the edge of sleep.
"Hey, Soph." Peter whispers. She could feel the mattress dip as he turned next to her. The blankets move to expose her feet with his movement.
"Yeah, Peter?" She whispers back. Keeping her eyes closed and curling further into herself.
"I lied earlier." Peter exhales. Deep and long. Tugging at the blankets once more.
Sophia turns around to face him. The side of his face lit up by the glow of the tv. The other side shrouded in darkness against her fluffy white pillows. Waiting for him to find the courage to say what's next.
Her eyes begin to close against her will. They feel heavy and her bed is so inviting and warm. Sophia's body slumps deeper into the comfort of her bed.
"I'm not great at giving advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?"
The laugh track brings her back in the moment and she forces herself to blink them open. Blearily looking at her friend lying across from her.
"Sophia." His voice cracks. Unshed tears are shimmering in his eyes.
"Peter." Sophia hums his name. The desperate need for rest quickly leaves her mind. She shuffles closer underneath the blankets and kicks her feet around to readjust the blanket. Toes brushing up against his calves.
"The nightmares don't stop." Peter leans towards her. Face only a few inches away from her own. Squeezing his eyes shut.
"I'm sorry." Sophia reaches out and grabs his hand in hers. Holding it tightly in between them over the blankets. Rubbing circles into his rough skin with her thumbs.
"I came here because I couldn't sleep. Not because I was bored. Every time I close my eyes I see his face. I see Tony. His final moments. Then I see Uncle Ben gasping for his last breath. Then I'm reminded of the car crash my parents were in. It — it just spirals. It keeps going until there's no escape."
"My failures. My ignorance of how this whole superhero life works. If I was faster. If I wasn't in a hurry to show everyone I can be a hero on par with the Avengers. That I could handle everything. Maybe if I put in some serious training hours…This could have been different."
"I could have done more. I could be doing more and instead I'm here wallowing in self pity. No one had to die. So many people died. I had the gauntlet in my hands, Sophia! It was there in my grasp. I could have saved the day but I let it slip. I wasn't strong enough. Not then and definitely not now. I'm not strong enough for this. And if it wasn't for me, you and Morgan wouldn't be going through life without him."
Opening his eyes, Peter lets the tears fall down his cheeks. Taking his hand out of hers, he presses the back of it against his mouth. Turning to flop on his back with heaving breaths.
Sophia's heart sinks. Unsure how to console him and not sure what the next right move is. Having dealt with this herself — past experience tells her nothing could ever be comforting or cushion the blow of past regrets. Everything sounds like empty words and promises no matter what is said. It feels like the world is against you and there's nothing that can stop it.
The universe is always ready to add more misery to their story.
"Peter, you couldn't have. Maybe something small could have changed. Who knows. But I doubt it. I don't think you could have done anything different to create a different outcome. To create a universe where Tony or Vision or Nat lives." She says gently.
His breathing becomes erratic. Face bright red, even in the darkness of her room, and his chest moving up and down rapidly. As if he can't get enough oxygen into his lungs.
She pulls his hand away from his mouth. Holding on tightly again. Fingers smoothing over the teeth marks embedded into his knuckles.
"I'm not saying you aren't strong enough. You are more than enough as you are. I'm just saying that I believe Dr.Strange when he said there was only one solution where we came out winners. And this is it, Peter." She continues. Squeezing his hand. "Right here."
Flexing his fingers, Peter's breathing begins to slow. They're still shaky but no longer rushed or gasping for air. But the tears still run down profusely.
"I'm not strong enough to keep pretending that I'm fine. That I'm not haunted by the ghost of others." Peter's voice cracks and is hoarse. Sophia has to strain to hear.
"Then don't. Pretending and wearing another mask isn't the answer. It's causing more strain on you, Peter. I don't want anyone I call a friend to have to pretend to be something they're not in my presence." Sophia sits up, making sure not to remove her hand from his.
"Remember what you told me? I lean on you and give this crazy new world, and you, a chance. So give me one too. Lean on me." Sophia looks down at him. Her eyes shimmering with tears and clashing with his sullen ones.
"Everything is falling apart, Soph. Scarlet Witch's breakdown with that town. All the lives I impacted negatively. You, Liz, May, the people I try to save…Despite my best efforts to just do my best. Sometimes it feels like all I can manage to do is not die under the crushing weight of it all." Peter weakly responds, sniffling loudly. He squeezes her hand back.
"Believe me, that is an impressive skill. It's one I'm working on bettering everyday." Sophia gives him a small smile.
"I really am trying. It just doesn't feel…right." Peter confesses. Tearing his eyes away from her.
"What doesn't feel right?" Concern laces her words. A million thoughts racing in her mind. His wound? Being Spider-Man? Being alive?
That doesn't sit right for her either.
"It doesn't feel right coming to you. You were affected more than me. Your whole life was uprooted twice. Losing Vision, then Black Widow, and Mr.Stark. I shouldn't be bothering you with this. It's pathetic."
"It's not pathetic. It actually makes me feel better in a twisted way. I'm not alone in this. Other people are just as affected as I am." Sophia tells him. Scooting back down to lay on her side. Staring at the ceiling fan making slow turns.
"Do you still hate me?" Peter asks. Hand going limp in hers. Ready to pull away.
Contemplating, Sophia drums her fingers against the back of his hand. Her knee jerk reaction wanting to tell him no. Give him reassurance.
She didn't want to lie to him.
The light from the tv slowly fades away. Friday upkeeping her promise to turn it off. Shrouding both the teens in the quiet darkness of her bedroom. Her heart skips a beat at the realization.
"I don't hate you, Peter." Sophia hesitates. Her emotions are a tangled mess in her heart. Making her chest ache.
"But?" Peter whispers.
"But there's days where I still resent you and can't shake it. That I still blame you for the reason he left Morgan and I behind. Not just to go back in time. But to follow you into space where he almost died there too." Her voice breaks.
She could hear Peter sniffle again. Air hissing between his clenched teeth. "I'm so sorry, Sophia. I promise it's something I'll carry forever."
"But the thing is… it's not something I want you to carry. It's not something I even want to carry. I know in my heart even dad wouldn't want me to carry it. I want to move on for you, me, and my dad. It makes no sense to carry resentment. You are the last person to be blamed for his choices. And logically, I understand and agree as to why he did it. I'm just an angry teen missing her dad is all." Sophia weakly laughs. Bringing her other hand to wipe away the slowly falling tears.
"When I see you sometimes the resentment gets to me. Other times, I'm filled with guilt for making you handle my mood swings. And as for the rest… I have so much relief that at least in all this mess we decided to give this weird friendship a chance. I want to heal and I want you to heal. We just have to work together to try and just do better."
Peter's grip tightens. "We can do that. We have each other to lean on, right?" He sniffles again. Releasing his hand from hers to scrub at his face. "Try to do better." He repeats. Voice muffled.
"In this case, it means try and do better and get more sleep on a regular basis. You're really screwing up my sleep schedule, you know?" Sophia lightly jokes. Trying to dispel the tension in the air.
She can't get a good night of rest if everything feels heavy. In heart and mind. It's inviting the nightmares to come back. Vivid enough that when she wakes up she swears her room smells like death.
"Hey, you were awake when I got here!" Peter sniffles again but a small laugh comes out along with it.
"Yeah, but it's," Sophia glances at her phone. "Now it is fifteen after one. I have to be up early for an appointment. Plus, I genuinely need beauty sleep. Getting this hair and face together is not easy."
"You're always pretty, Soph. Even without all the extra stuff." He motions his head upwards, towards the now crooked curler in her hair. Hands laying flat against his stomach.
Sophia couldn't help but snort. Men, they all think they like natural beauty, not even realizing we still put a little something to look like we have nothing on and call it natural beauty.
"You've never even seen me without all the extra. Beauty is work and it is painful and truthfully? It is mentally draining sometimes. It's very time consuming, honestly. So do not downplay the effort I put in, sir." Sophia pokes a finger into his side.
"So you want me to compliment the time and effort put in but not your face?" He looks at her with confusion. Trying to raise an eyebrow but failing because his eyelids fight to close.
"No." Sophia rolls onto her side to face him in the dark. "Girls want all three to be complimented. Obviously. The swiftness, the effort, and the look. It truly is a struggle to get that eyeliner just right. Or find the effort to work on a skin routine everyday and wake up early to —"
"I get it, I get it. Beauty equals time and effort." Peter yawns. Stretching his arms above his head, back arching like a cat.
Sophia kicks her feet around. Adjusting her comforter to bunch around her face and arms while lifting one leg higher than the other. "Just making sure you understand. You'll need to know this for whatever poor, unfortunate soul you manage to date."
"You move around a lot when you're trying to sleep." Peter yawns again, his face buried in her silk pillowcases.
"There's certain sleeping positions that create maximum comfort that involve a body pillow but since you're here that is unfortunately being prevented at the moment." Sophia begins to yawn. The last word in her sentence gets lost in the sound.
"So get used to it." Sophia relaxes under her comforter, bringing the blanket to her chin.
"I'll do my best."
Sophia watches as his eyes drift close. Blankets pulled up to his chin. His face is now peaceful and no longer haunted by the past.
Her heart is still heavy. The churning in her stomach has never gone away. Her mind fills with could haves and should haves. If she was really any help consoling the web-head beside her.
Unlike her father, she was never good with words.
"Hey, Peter." Sophia whispers. Moving to place her head against the side of his shoulder. She could feel her face burning so hot she'd be shocked if he couldn't feel it through his thin t-shirt.
"Yeah?" He lazily whispers. Not moving away from her or tensing up at the new contact. Giving her courage to continue.
"You're still my hero."
Even if she didn't want him to be.
Stark Residence — Pepper Pott's Office
"PTSD is a harsh term." Sophia digs her toes into the carpet.
"I'm not saying it to define you. I'm saying it to help you." Maria Hill replies.
"Can we at least call it something else? Like spicy deja-vu?" Sophia leans back into the arm chair. Arms hugging her mid stomach.
"Absolutely not."
"Well, I thought it was funny." She grumbles. Looking out the floor to ceiling windows in her mom's home office. Not a cloud in sight.
"We're not here to be funny. We are here to heal. While you've done a good job of becoming more social and branching out, I do worry you have become too codependent. Exchanging one extreme for another." Hill tells her bluntly.
Turning her head back, Sophia looks the women up and down in confusion. Maria Hill's tablet glows to life. Being completely see through for something that's supposed to hold confidential secrets.
Peter's school picture appears on the left side of the screen.
"What does Peter have to do with anything?"
"Based on our weekly appointments, I have noticed Peter has become a great pillar of strength for you. You're more active. Socializing more. You've even joined an after school club. The decathlon team, correct?" Hill looks down at the tablet in front of her. Adding notes with her stylus.
Uncomfortable, Sophia tugs on the ends of her hair. She hasn't even told her mom yet. "Yes."
"All of those things are good. In fact, it's all the actions we're aiming for. However," Hill glances up at her sharply. "All of it is centered around one individual. You never venture outside of Peter. You don't leave the home or school without Peter. Other relationships, for example Harley and even your sister, have fallen wayward."
"What are you saying?" Sophia asks cautiously. Body painfully stiff despite the velvet cushions of the arm chair forming to her body.
"Nothing for now. This codependency…it is something that we must be aware of. We want you to be your own person. To be able to heal with your own strengths, not someone else's."
"I don't see the problem. You said it yourself. Socially: I'm doing better. Even including pre-blimp. I'm doing what you said. I'm talking about my problems and making friends. Who cares how I get to the finish line as long as I get there." Sophia bites back. Anger seeping out with every word.
She's healing. She's working on herself. She's made progress. Why does a secret government agent get to say it's the wrong way? The nightmares have become silent. That's all that matters.
"Recovery isn't a race. Believe it or not, there is a right and wrong way to do it. Not to put anything out there but if something were to happen that caused Peter to leave. Whether it's college or vacation or anything else for an extended period of time — would you be able to survive?"
Deleted Scene
Stretching out her legs with pointed toes and curling her spine back until she hears a pop, Sophia groans. The blankets twisted between her legs and across her lap. Majority of the blankets and sheets hang off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
Sitting up with a yawn, sleepy tears prickle her eyes. She looks over to see Peter huddled on the other edge of the bed. Pillows crushed over his head and underneath his forearm. No blanket in sight.
Looking at her own lap, she slightly winces. "Whoops."
Groaning, Peter moves the pillow off his head. Hair wild and pointing in different directions. Sophia stifles a laugh. Choosing to get up instead.
"You're the worst person to share a bed with." Peter moans. Spreading out across the bed like a starfish.
"Well, excuse me for not being used to sharing."
"You are excused." Peter rolls to the edge. Jumping to his feet and rolling his shoulders back.
Reaching down, Sophia bundles up the comforter. Carelessly tossing it onto the floor. A clean room definitely is not a priority on her list today.
"Let me help you make the bed." Peter offers. Reaching for the pile of pillows.
"That's okay. Just leave it." Sophia waves her hand in the air. Unbothered by the state of her room.
"No, really. I can help make a bed. It's only fair." Peter insists. Hands held out.
"No, really, leave it. Today is cleaning day. We have cleaning services come in for a reason. They can do it."
"I thought Pepper made you do your own chores. You know, to be independent and well rounded. All the fun grown up stuff."
"She does. We do all of our chores for the most part. We only have housekeeping come in twice a month. Which means I'm not making my bed today." Sophia shrugs. "It's my day off from chores."
Peter blinks at her. "We live very different lives."
Sophia chucks a pillow at his face. Disappointed, and a little jealous, that he again plucked it out of the air with ease.
"Lets just go get…" She trails off. A random thought hitting her like a train.
"Hold on, did you tell May you were coming here?" Sophia questions while she bundles up the extra blankets and tosses them off of her bed.
Peter swore under his breath. Hands digging in pockets and smoothing over his shirt and sweatpants.
"Side table." Sophia simply says. Watching Peter practically leap across the room to check his phone. His long fingers quickly swipes across the screen.
"I have already informed Ms. May Parker of your location Mr. Parker." Friday speaks up. Startled, Peter drops his phone onto the ground.
"That's really convenient. Thank you, Friday." Peter exhales in relief. He rubs his hands down his face, shoulders deflating.
"Well, now that that's settled. Let's go get breakfast. It's whole wheat pancake day." Sophia stretches her hands above her head.
"Are you crazy? I can't go downstairs. Your mom will know I was here!" Peter hisses. Eyes darting to her closed bedroom door. Pausing just for a moment before he runs over to swoop up his tennis shoes. Rushing to get them on.
"Mom already knows you're here." Sophia deadpans. Hands working quickly to unwrap her hair from the heatless curling rod.
Peter's head turns towards her. The gears slowly turn in his head as do his frantic motions to get his shoes on. "Friday?"
"Obviously."
"Mrs.Potts-Stark and Miss Morgan Stark are waiting for the two of you in the dining room. I advise that you hurry." Friday chimes in.
Sophia takes in the information with careful consideration. Knowing her mom, always wanting to be a good host, most likely requested a considerable sized breakfast spread (especially considering the way Peter eats). Unable to warm any of it up if it gets cold.
Which means a morning of pastries and fluffy pancakes. A rare non-healthy meal to be served. Grinning, she tosses her curling rod onto her vanity in the corner
Shaking her head to free her hair, Sophia makes her way out the room. "Well, come on."
"Your hair really did curl!" Peter lightly jogs after in amazement.
"It's definitely the most efficient way to curl hair in my opinion." She runs her fingers through her brown locks. Untangling any knots and fluffing out the curls to readjust them as they make their way down the stairs.
"Sophia!" Morgan cheers once they stroll in. Blueberries bleeding through her hands. A new stuffed animal sitting in the chair right beside her.
Morgan stands a little taller in her chair. Peeking around Sophia with a wide smile. Showing off her teeth. "Peter!"
"Hey, Morgan!" Peter ruffles her curly mane. "Whoa, is that a new pokemon you got? She looks so cool. What's her name?"
"Pip-up. She's a pen-pen-uh-gain." Morgan stumbles out. Mouth twists to the side in concentration to get the word right.
"Penguin, honey. She's a penguin." Proper interjects. Attention focuses on cutting up a plate of pancakes in front of her. She already has her blonde hair neatly pulled into a slick curled ponytail with her signature pencil skirt and heels on.
A subtle indicator that she will be gone all day once again.
Sophia takes the seat across from her mom. Loading her plate with various fruits and pastries. "Good morning, mom. Morgan."
"Good morning. Peter, aren't you going to sit and eat? I did request a rather larger spread given your metabolism. It would be a waste of food for you not to join." Pepper uses her knife and fork to gesture to the rather sizable food spread across their dining room table.
Peter shuffles his feet and hurriedly sits beside Sophia. Face bright red. "Good morning, Mrs. Stark. Thank you for having me." He squeaks out. Timidly adding pancakes to his plate.
Sophia giggles to herself. Watching the way he sits up straight and shoulders back all the while looking like he'd rather hide underneath their dining room rug. She guess she could have better prepared him but where's the fun in that?
"That's it? No open door policy or lectures or groundings?" Sophia asks her mom, cutting into her pancake.
She ignores the way Peter's face flushes and he tries to stutter out an excuse or defense. The end result just being a garbled mush not even Friday could understand.
"I'm not home enough to stop you. Between running the company, public appearances, and such. I'm lucky if I get to see my girls for more than just dinner. However, I do trust you to make smart decisions while I'm gone." Proper pushes the neatly cut up scares of pancakes in front of Morgan. Handing her a toddler sized pink fork
"I also have Friday, who is also intertwined with Karen, monitoring everything in the home. If they do happen to report something, which they will, I will come knocking." Pepper pops a grape into her mouth. Looking at both teens with a pointed look.
"You definitely don't have anything to worry about. I would never disrespect you or Mr.Stark. I am so sorry I came uninvited. It wasn't planned to spend the night at all." Peter rambles in a rush. Figiditing in his seat.
Waving her own fork in the air, Pepper laughs. "I trust you two. You and Sophia are a lot more mature than most of the adults I talk to at work. I understand this has been a trying time for all of us. I'm just glad Sophia is finally talking to someone about it and accepting friends."
"She's been worrying all of us lately. Going back and forth between being a rebelling hermit or a rebelling socialite. I wasn't sure when she would come back to earth but I believe we can thank you for that, Peter." Pepper continues.
"Moooom." Sophia groans. Ripping her croissant in half. "Is this really necessary?"
"I'm just letting you know I trust that you two are smart enough not to make me a very young grandmother. Wait at least six years."
Sophia buries her head in her hand with an exasperated groan. She should have told Peter to go jump out the window.
end of the comfort show
word count 8.929
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Cassie-O1 & JayBat: Thank you for your reviews & follow! I love knowing I'm not writing into the void for nothing and people actually like my jumbled up mess of words!