Summary: Tony goes on a mission with Steve and Thor, and Natasha is on babysitting duty for Peter. Everything goes well until Peter eavesdrops on Natasha’s phone call where the mission went horribly wrong. 

TW: assumed character death (not really) and panic attack

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Tony’s arms were wrapped tightly around his thirteen year old son holding him tight to his chest, “I’m going to be fine, don’t get all worked up with Nat okay? But you can bother her, not that you do, pure child. Dad’s gotta go now bud, alright?” Peter breathed out, “I just feel that something’s going to happen.” The older man shook his head with a promising smile on his face, “I’m Iron Man, I’m going to be fine.” The thirteen year old nodded his head slightly pulling himself out of a hug and closed his eyes as his dad planted a kiss on the top of his head as his suit ignited a bright blue and he soared through the crystal skies.  

The thirteen year old softly collapsed onto the sofa, fingers drumming on his thighs when Natasha threw a pillow on him. He turned with a sheepish expression on his face and Natasha explained with one of her iconic smirks, “Pillow fort?” The answer was an obvious yes. 

The two had spent the remainder day making forts and watching endless Disney movies when the two decided that they should have some dinner before they fell asleep, especially with Peter’s quick metabolism. The two settled on some waffles, hey, dinner is anything, and who said that pancakes were necessarily breakfast?

Afterwards Natasha sent Peter to bed staying up just in case anything happened along with the force of habit, little did she know that it was a good thing she chose to stay awake. 

Around ten pm her phone rang and she was a bit surprised to see the caller ID being Steve, wasn’t he on a mission with Tony? Before she could even reply she heard Steve’s jaggy breathing as if he had run fifty laps and had asthma speak, “Nat, it’s bad, Tony’s hurt, he’s not breathing, he might not make it, I don’t think he’s going to make it Nat, there’s a lot of blood and his arc isn’t working.” Natasha spoke tightly, anxiety and the idea of what Steve was looking at, “He’s going to be okay Steve. He’s Iron Man, just get him to med, and get to the Tower.” Steve let out a huffed okay and then hung up. Natasha pressed the phone against her chest worry building up in her chest as she couldn’t help the worst thoughts consume her. 

What she didn’t know was the thirteen year old boy hiding in the shadows who had heard every single word. The thirteen year old boy blinking back tears spoke in a wavering tone, “Aunt Nat?” Natasha turned surprised to see Peter trying not to cry. He threw his arms around her waist sobbing as he spoke, “Is Dad going to be okay?” Natasha didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to tell him something that would only crush him, “He’s going to be okay, he promised you right? Tony doesn’t break his promises. He’s going to be fine.” Peter sniffled, nodding his head, “Can I sleep with you, please?” Natasha nodded, carrying the light boy back to the sofa and holding him as tight as she could as he failed to fall asleep. 

Steve had returned eyes somewhat glossy, blurring even more seeing the panicked expression of Peter despite him being sound asleep. He spoke to Natasha who looked like she had stayed up all night, and most likely did, “Get some rest, I’ll stay with him.” Natasha looked like she was going to argue, but then decided against it, carefully getting up without waking the sleeping child next to her. 

Steve gently sat down pulling his nephew close to his chest making sure he was warm and alright. Not too long later he felt movement against his chest and saw Peter sound asleep thrashing. He was mumbling incoherent things but Steve could make out a few phrases.

“Don’t go!”

“Dad!”

“Please don’t leave me!”

“You promised me!”

Despite being asleep in the midst of a nightmare Steve could very well make out the tears falling down his face and gently shook him awake. Peter latched himself onto Steve’s chest, burying his head in this chest. 

Steve leaned back taking Peter’s weight softly rubbing circles on Peter’s back speaking in a hushed tone, “You’re okay bud, you’re okay. Dad’s going to be fine as well. Everyone, and everything is going to be okay, have I ever lied to you?” Peter shook his head, arms resuming his latched position on Steve, “Uncle Steve?” Steve nods looking down at the small bundle in his arms, waiting for him to continue. And he does. 

Peter speaks, “It’s just, I’m so scared.”

He swallows heavily, “What if Dad is really gone? Then I’m going to have no one, and then they’re going to take me away into the foster system and then I won’t see any of you ever again and then I’ll be so sad all alone.” Right before he could continue with his panic ramble Steve cuts him off, “Peter, take a deep breath, in and out, you’re not going away, you’re right here in my arms. Can you tell me five things you see?”

The thirteen year old nods, “Uh, you, the blanket, the couch, my shirt,” he looks around for another distinguishable object, “and the TV.” Steve nods flashing another kind smile that only grounds Peter even more, “Four things you can touch.” Peter replies with greater ease, “My shirt” as his fingers trail over the red clotch and then move it’s way to the sky colored blanket, “Blanket” and then follow even further to the sofa, “Sofa” and then snake all the way up to Steve’s nose and boops it.

“And your nose.”

Steve chuckles speaking fondly, “First of all, your Dad is going to be fine, and don’t argue with me or I’ll start giving you more PSAs, second of all, if you think that we’re just going to let some people take you away, you have another thing coming. Whoever tries to take our boy is messing with not only Captain America, but the Black Widow, Hawkeye, Thor, Hulk, and the Scarlet Witch. Plus your Dad’s ghost cause we all what would happen.” That gets a giggle out of Peter as he leans his head over Steve’s chest, “You promise?” Steve nodded his head, “Yep, now get some shut-eye would ya?”

The teenage relaxed against his uncle’s warm chest forcing himself to get at least a half hour of solid sleep. Steve smiled fondly, draping the blanket over his shoulders make sure he was warm enough and leaned back, praying to whoever was up there, Please let Tony wake up, he can’t leave Peter, please.

Four days later, Tony Stark fluttered awake. 

Doctors were immediately scrambling around him, asking him a shitload of questions about how he was feeling or something along those lines and all Tony could think of under the hazy lights was Peter. Was he okay? Who was with him? 

He never got to ask the questions because right as he opened his mouth, he fell back into the darkness. 

But, within some time, his eyes fluttered open, and this time, thank the Lord, sweet Jesus, no one put him back to sleep. He needed to see Peter. He sluggishly got out of the bed, pulling a ton of wires and drawing the attention of the other doctors who were urging him back to the bed. He kept shaking his bed, saying over and over again, “I need to see Peter, is he okay?” 

All he got was an answer from someone who sounded vaguely familiar that Peter was fine and he was going to get him, when once again, someone turned the lights off. 

This was really getting annoying.

Like really.

And once again, Tony was succumbed into the darkness. 

Steve went running up the stairs and welcomed the flood of relief that surged through his chest as he searched for Peter, “Peter? Bud, where are you?” Peter chimed from his room, “In my room, is something wrong?” Steve called out, “Tony’s awake, and he’s okay.” Within a few moments a ruffled-hair teenager was stuck to his side like he were sticky glue. 

The teenager started rambling, anxiety blended with excitement as he could kept asking the million-dollar question, “Can I please see him?” The teenager had a slight pout and watery eyes that were shining like a baby. And how could Steve say no to that? The thirteen year old latched his hand onto Steve’s and led him to see Tony. 

Right as they were about to enter, Peter asked nervously, “Does he look different?” Steve reassuringly shook his head, “No, and I’m going to stay by your side the entire time.” Steve gently opened the door and rested himself onto a chair where Peter curled up against his chest, resting his head against Steve. Steve spoke softly, “Comfy kiddo?” Peter nodded, and the two sat in a soaking silence waiting for Tony to wake up. 

Within ten minutes the genius, billionaire, playboy who also happened to be a philantrophist’s eyes fluttered open, cracking a tired look at the two seated on the chairs. Steve spoke softly, “Nice to see you back and cracking.” Tony scoffed, “It’s only been a day, I’m popping.” It was Steve’s turn to scoff, “I think you mean three days, mister genius sir.” 

Tony merely rolled his eyes waving Steve away, “Shoo! My Petey!” Steve raises his hand chuckling to himself as he left the room giving the father and son their privacy. 

Peter was crawling over Tony who eagerly rocked the teenager into his arms, softly stroking his curls, “Hey Petey pie, how are you feeling?” 

Peter replied as he nuzzled himself onto Tony, “I’m okay Dad. I just missed you. When Steve called I got so scared Dad, I thought you were,...” He didn’t finish his sentence, letting it trail off not wanting to say the remainder of it. 

Tony cupped Peter’s head, forcing the chocolate colored irises to meet his own, speaking softly, “Petey, it’s okay. We’re okay. Hey, I promised you I was going to come back right? You know I always will. Sure I might get hurt a few times, but Death has nothing on me. Got it?” Peter nodded, resting his head on the crook of Tony’s neck, “I love you 3000.” 

Tony smiled, leaning back speaking, “I love you infinity and beyond.”