Irondad fic ideas #159
Fic set in a universe where they never reversed the snap. The world has been grieving for 8 years.
Suddenly, one of the snapped reappears, but it is not Peter Parker. It's someone else (maybe Strange, Wanda, Bucky...)
There's debate about what to do. The returned person doesn't seem to remember much, although it's possible they remember more than they're letting on. Should the remaining Avengers study them, interrogate them, let them live out a peaceful life and forget about everyone else?
The debate gets way more intense when Tony Stark finds out what's going on. They've tried to keep it from him, knowing how he'd react, and he definitely lives up to expectations.
Of course they need to find out everything this person knows. They need to bring their missing people back. They need to bring back his son.
How hard will Tony push to find out the truth? to bring his kid home?
Bonus:
At some point, the person admits that they were lying about their memories. They're here because they fell through a portal. They're from another universe.
Except... they genuinely didn't know Tony had a son? They've never heard of anyone called Peter Parker. And yes, their universe does have a Spider-Man. Their universe even has a May Parker -- she died recently, btw. And it was Spider-Man's fault.
This awful news, and the horror story Tony infers from it, makes him even more determined to rescue his kid. Once they learn how to reverse the snap, he's going to make sure he lives to protect Peter from bullshit like what this other Peter Parker had to go through.
Still, he's heartbroken for the version of his kid in this other universe. Before sending the universe hopper back to where they belong, he tells them all about Peter and asks them to find him, to keep him safe. He may or may not send some tech with videos for all of their memory-zapped loved ones too.
This fic idea was inspired by this fic by @asyouleft!
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peter parker is selfish.
may and ben had given him everything, he spent nights sleeping comfortably; oblivious to the amount of stress his presence had given them, peter ran around the couples small apartment playing superhero’s while they figured out how they were going to feed a third person. he grew up more or less happy, and it was all because of them— they were perfect.
and what does peter do? he storms out after a stupid argument, he wanders down three different streets and ignores may’s calls. he screams at ben when he finds him, he refuses to go home, he gets ben shot.
when may found out, she didn’t look at peter with hate— there wasn’t a morsel of anger in his aunts eyes, she only held him and assured him that it wasn’t his fault, and isn’t that the most ridiculous thing? her husband was dead, and she was holding the reason he bled out on the alleyway, she was comforting the root of her grief.
and peter let her, he snuck into her room everytime a nightmare visited, letting himself fall back into her arms. he let her sign him up for midtown, he let her book his therapy appointments.
peter stood by and watched his aunt pull herself together for his sake, just like he watched his uncle get shot ( and just like he watched tony stark snap. )
so when may asks if he’s been eating breakfast, he’ll lie and tell her he grabs something on the way, when she gives him his allowance, he’ll slowly shove it into her savings jar, and when he gets a nightmare he’ll toughen up.
because yeah, he was selfish, he was selfish because he stayed. but he wouldn’t let himself be a burden again, he won’t let himself be put in a position where he needs help.
( and when he apologizes to mr.stark, half of his body gone and dusted. it’s because he knows what it’s like to watch someone you care for die, and he knows that his failure would leave a burden on tony’s shoulders. he knows that he’s inconvenienced someone again. )
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EDIT: Also posted on AO3!
--
Peter wakes up late.
Arguably, it’s the weekend. Even then, he’s not someone who sleeps until afternoon. Mainly because someone wakes him for breakfast and to get through the day. And on some weekends, he even has breakfast in bed.
It’s 12 PM when he opens his eyes, hearing no noises out of his room.
Indeed, when he gets out of bed, Peter doesn’t find any signs of life in the Compound. Breakfast is not set. And as far as he’s concerned, no one is in the workshop, for he cannot hear any loud rock music coming from it.
“Um… F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Peter looks at the ceiling. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”
“Boss is currently in a series of meetings. He’ll be back by the evening. He said there’s coffee ready, and food in the fridge to heat up.”
“Oh.”
The boy realizes he’s still wrapped by his blanket, as Peter hugs it close.
“Would you like me to call Boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y asks.
“No, no, I just wanted to know. Thanks.”
“You can let me know if you need him.”
“It’s okay, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”
She doesn’t insist. The house goes silent again.
He wants her to come back.
But he doesn’t say that.
So, Peter goes on with his day. He eats his cereal and he doesn’t mix the coffee with milk like he usually does. He doesn’t like black coffee like Tony does… but it doesn’t feel wrong this time. Peter tries sending messages to Ned and MJ, but they both have plans for today so they won’t be able to talk much today. Aunt May is out of town, hence why Peter is staying over. She does ask if everything is okay, and Peter reassures her he’s fine. May tells him to count on Tony with anything he needs.
Peter just sends her a smiling emoji.
He decides not to talk to Karen. One, putting his suit in the Compound for no reason other than to chat with someone is weird. Second, she would certainly let Tony know, and his mentor would immediately tell something is wrong.
Peter goes to the workshop. He greets DUM-E. As much as he loves the little bot, DUM-E only beeps and Peter has not yet figured out his language. The arachnid doesn’t have anything to fix on his suit. He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y if Tony needs any help with his projects (his mentor has given him permission to help him out if he wants). But apparently, there isn’t anything to be fixed.
Right. Nothing in the workshop, then.
Peter tries watching TV. He doesn’t really focus. He checks his phone but there aren’t any new messages. His friends are too busy for him. Time is passing very slowly. It’s not even mid afternoon and Tony will take forever to come back.
Finally, he goes back to his room. He needs to get his math homework done, anyway. Peter gets his earphones ready and he starts reading the book, his notebook page blank, waiting for his train of thought.
Except the music is too distracting. Even if he lowers the volume, it doesn’t help. But if he pauses it entirely, Peter’s thoughts are going to scream louder.
His notebook judges him. The words and instructions in his book don’t make sense. Even though Peter re-reads over and over again, they only get more confusing, and he loses more patience, as his head pounds.
Ask for help, a little voice says inside him.
Help for what? Homework?
It’s not just homework.
But it’s not important.
Everyone has better things to do.
Peter growls, breaking his pencil in half with a lot of ease, then dropping the meaningless pieces on the floor. He can’t bring himself to fix it or simply throw in the garbage. It’s just a stupid pencil anyway.
His book is slowly consumed by teardrops.
Countless.
Like it’s raining right in it.
Only Peter is the big storm cloud that can’t make it stop. That can’t do the most basic of things.
He can’t take it anymore.
He sobs. A lot. Loud.
It probably echoes in the penthouse.
People won’t hear it, though.
Peter covers his eyes, now wetting his hands instead of the book. The music is still playing and it’s mocking him. You’re stupid. You’re useless. You can’t do anything right.
He cries for a good couple of minutes. It only grows louder and more painful. Peter doesn’t know why he’s like this. He can handle things alone. He has always handled everything on his own and he never broke down like this. Why is he like this now?
The emptiness around him is engulfing him. It’s empty like his apartment when Uncle Ben died. Peter couldn’t sleep for days when it happened. Mostly because he was distracted trying to save other people’s lives, to prevent another tragedy from happening.
But there’s no one to save.
Peter is trapped.
He can’t do this.
He can’t do this.
He can’t…
…
Someone is knocking on the door.
“Peter?”
Suddenly, he’s back in the bedroom, the book and notebook are just… school objects. They aren’t saying anything.
Peter is too shocked to even open his mouth.
“Peter, I’m coming in.”
Shit. Fuck.
The boy hides himself, turning away from the door, also using his arm to try and pretend the tears aren’t there.
“M-Mr. Stark! I thought- Why”– the teen gulps, unsure what to say that won’t blow his cover. He fears he’s failed anyway –“What’re you doing here?”
“F.R.I.D.A.Y called me, she said you needed me.”
Even though Tony doesn’t sound annoyed in the slightest, Peter only feels pathetic and ashamed of the last three words.
“Y-You didn’t have to come here, Mr. Stark.”
He senses Tony approaching.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” the man patiently requests.
“I don’t know! Something is wrong with- with my brain!” Peter lashes out. He hates himself for that. Despite that, Tony doesn’t get angry. “I tried to distract myself but there was nothing to fix in the lab, TV didn’t help, and not even my stupid homework helps because I’m stupid-!”
“Hey, hey, hey…” Tony is kneeling down next to him. “You’re not stupid. It’s okay.”
Peter cries again with the other’s soft voice. “I can’t do anything, Mr. Stark.”
“That’s okay. You just need a break, kiddo.”
“Yeah, but…”
It’s not just a break that he needs.
“... what’s the point if I’m just gonna be alone?”
Tony gently places a hand on Peter’s arm. The boy finally looks back at him.
“I’m here. You’re not alone.”
“But what about your meetings? They must be more important.”
“You’re more important to me, Pete.”
He knows that, doesn’t he?
Why does it make Peter emotional anyway?
Regardless, Tony throws away the broken pencil for him.
“Come on, buddy,” he calls him, standing on his feet but waiting for Peter to follow him. Actually, he wants Peter to lead the way.
That way, the two end up at the couch. The TV is on and Peter couldn’t care less about what’s airing. Tony grabbed his blanket and wrapped him up in a burrito. Even though he’s wearing an expensive suit, he hugs Peter close and he starts telling him about the meetings today and how boring they were. He also talked shit about some of the people he had to debate with.
For the first time today, Peter smiles, at peace.
Everything is alright now.
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Apologies
Also on AO3 [550 words]
For:
Whumptober 2022 - Day 19: enough is enough
@buckybarnesbingo - K5: "It's not your fault."
@tonystarkbingo - [image] Tony and Maria Stark
Bucky looks down at the framed photograph in his hands, focusing on the sensation of smooth wood and glass beneath his fingers.
There are three figures, half-memories and sparks of recognition flashing through his brain. The woman is the least familiar, just one more pleading voice, one more pair of desperate eyes, recognised more from the memory of a video than the event itself. The man is the most familiar, from the same video and mission, but also other mission reports, and Before – soft echoes of a quick laugh and quicker smile. The boy, young man almost, is both the most and least familiar; he never saw him at that age, but he is also the only one for whom his memories are more than faded shards. Of the three, somehow, he is the one who hurts the most.
“It’s not your fault.”
He jumps at the sound of the voice behind him, hurriedly placing the photograph back on the shelf as he turns. He can’t believe he was sloppy enough to let someone sneak up on him, let alone the man he has spent the last week avoiding.
“What?”
Tony Stark nods towards the photograph, carefully remaining out of reach.
“Their deaths, it’s not your fault.”
“But, in the bunker, you said…”
He hates how his shoulders hunch, how timid he sounds. But the faces are just one more piece of the mess of guilt churning inside him, and Stark has every reason to hate him, this murderer in his home.
“Look, that was at the end of one of the top ten worst days of my life. And given it’s me, that’s saying something. I was running on painkillers and adrenaline and not much more, I was being pressured on all sides, things had spiralled out of control a good six hours ago and kept getting worse, I’d just had the truth of my parents’ death shoved in my face and you were right there… So sure, I said some things, did some things, that I probably shouldn’t have. As I said, that whole day was a shitshow from start to end.
“But Barnes, it wasn’t your fault. I’ve had almost thirty years to come to terms with their death, years without your face attached. Now that I know the truth, well. Am I pissed at Hydra? Absolutely, even moreso than before. Am I pissed at the Winter Soldier? Ok, a bit, he’s the one in the video. But the Soldier isn’t really you. He didn’t have a choice, was just a means to their ends.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I know this is awkward as all hell, for you at least as much as for me, but… I don’t blame you, so try not to blame yourself?”
They stare at each other in silence for a long moment, the promised awkwardness building even as some other unidentifiable tension eases.
Suddenly Stark claps his hands, making him jolt again.
“Right, so, good talk. Now I’ve got a… ah… thing… Bye.”
Watching the man powerwalk out of the room, Bucky finds himself almost smiling, feeling somehow lighter. He doesn’t know that he’s ready to forgive himself yet, not for all the blood his hands have spilled, willingly or not. But it helps that, at least from Stark, he has permission to.
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