Chapter Text
A choked off whine slipped from Peter’s lips as his eyes flew open. He screwed up his face, expression twisting into something pained. His chest somehow felt tight and hollow all at once, making him conscious of every single breath he took.
Sitting there, tucked up in the gym mats, he tried to clear his head, rid it of the unsettling fog, but found that he couldn’t. And his body...it felt like it wasn’t his. He felt trapped in his skin, like it was closing in on him.
The sudden low that he was experiencing was strong enough that it had pulled him out of the illusion entirely, his body trembling.
He tried to focus on what was around him, but it was hard when he felt so disconnected. He could feel cold globs of cum drying against his skin and causing his boxers to stick to him uncomfortably, his cock spent and sensitive as a few tears trickled down his cheeks. Wiping one away, he stared blankly at the wetness on the back of his hand.
What the fuck was going on? He hadn’t even realized that he was crying.
Everything felt wrong. His brain still felt floaty from his headspace, but it wasn’t in a good way anymore. He felt disconnected, floating without a tether to ground himself with. Gone was the happy and content feeling from before. This kind of floating... It was terrifying, and all he wanted was to feel real again.
But he couldn’t seem to quite get there.
His breaths became shorter as he started panicking, frantically trying to grab at the floor beneath him. But there wasn’t a surface to hold onto, just smooth, cold rubber. It didn’t help rid him of his distress in any way.
He knew that what he needed was Tony. But Tony wasn’t there.
Peter had heard of sub-drop, but he’d never felt it firsthand before. Obviously.
And even going into the scene, he hadn’t thought it was something he needed to worry about. It surely hadn’t crossed his mind while everything was taking place. Tony was gentle, perfect and sweet to him, even as he pushed his limits. Drops only happened to people with uncaring doms, right? And...it wasn’t like any of that had actually happened, so surely there was no reason for him to experience any after effects?
Wrong.
Peter was left alone to fall, just waiting until he finally felt connected to his own body again. Being grounded again took what felt like forever. But at least it happened eventually.
He felt sick. His skin was crawling and it all felt wrong. Like he had been taken apart and then put back together again, but the pieces had been jammed together, put back incorrectly. Puzzle pieces forced to fit.
All he wanted was to be held, to feel safe and protected. But there was no one there to hold him.
He was alone. He was always alone.
When he realized that, he truly started to cry in earnest. His eyes stung as more tears built up and spilled, falling in quick succession when he squeezed his eyes shut. A sob shook his frame and he pulled his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around them in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.
He was convinced that he’d never felt as empty as he did in that moment. Any pain from before was forgotten, incomparable to the sadness that was suddenly overwhelming him.
Tony left him alone.
Again.
Peter knew that it was too good to be true. He knew that he would never really have Tony, that Tony couldn’t protect him. Not in the way that he needed to be protected. He was stupid to think that he would be allowed to have something good, even in his own mind.
He never got to keep the good things.
But despite how much he was hurting, and the fact that he could feel the whole thing falling apart right beneath his fingers, he knew that his life with Tony was the only thing keeping him together. It was the only good thing he had left, the only chance he had at feeling even the most fleeting moments of happiness.
He had nothing without Tony, he knew that.
So, wiping the tears from his face, Peter sniffled, reaching for the glasses. He bit his bottom lip to stop it trembling and took a shaky breath.
He needed comfort from Tony, and if he had to get it himself, then that’s what he would do.
Because he was in control.
***
Pausing in the doorway of their bedroom, Peter took a moment to simply look at his husband.
Tony was stretched out on the bed, leaning back on what was an absolutely absurd amount of pillows and fiddling with some sort of schematic hologram that was being projected from the tablet in his lap. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and there was a wrinkle between his eyebrows. His eyes were narrowed slightly, one of his hands was cupping his chin.
Peter recognized it as his concentrating face. He’d always found the expression ridiculously endearing, and now was no exception. He could feel some of the resentment he’d been harboring begin to melt away.
The engineer didn’t seem to notice the younger man’s presence, continuing to manipulate the projection, fingers splaying out in various gestures as he tried to work out the problem.
Peter cleared his throat softly and shot a gentle smile in Tony’s direction when he finally looked up. “Um. Hi, Tony.” The fingers on his right hand fidgeted with his wedding band.
“Hey baby,” Tony sighed, giving Peter his own tired grin. His eyes flickered down to the younger’s hands, then back up to his face. “What’s up?” He began to close out of whatever he was working on, eyes shifting between the holograms he was moving and Peter’s face as he waited for him to respond.
Cocking his head to the side, the brunette slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I, uh, was thinking maybe we could go for a walk?” It came out like a question, even though he had intended for it to be more of a statement. “Wanna get out of the house for a bit, get some fresh air. Wha’d’you think?”
“I think that sounds great, Pete. I could use a break from this anyway,” Tony said, finishing up. He took a minute to roll his shoulders, groaning as he did. “God, I’m getting old,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed himself up off the mattress so that he could walk over to his partner. When he reached Peter, he leaned against him for a moment, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Let me grab some sunglasses and shoes and I’ll meet you by the elevator, okay?”
Once they were down on the street in front of the tower, Tony had suggested that they walk a few blocks to the park, maybe grab something to eat on the way back home. When Peter had agreed, they set off down the sidewalk, making small talk and just enjoying each other’s company.
It seemed that everyone had the same idea as them, families and joggers and couples populating the large open area when they arrived.
Tony reached over to grab Peter’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they continued walking through the crowded park.
Peter glanced down. He thought about pulling away from the touch, not really sure if he wanted Tony holding his hand. He was still pretty upset from the drop. He was feeling much better, hence them taking a walk together in the first place, but he hadn’t forgotten how he’d had to figure things out all on his own. Far from it.
Sure, it wasn’t exactly Tony’s fault that the sudden endorphin drop had caused the illusion to glitch, but he was still upset. He had been left alone and miserable.
He didn’t pull his hand away, though. But he kept thinking about it.
Tony did nothing to suggest that he noticed anything was wrong. He was unaware of Peter’s thoughts, of course, but he didn’t seem to notice the teen’s hesitation regarding the contact either. Which was probably a good thing, honestly. Peter didn’t like confrontation and he wouldn’t know what to do if the older man brought attention to his behavior.
But it also kind of bothered him that Tony wasn’t paying attention. Which was stupid and probably untrue, but his brain wouldn’t let go of it.
In a moment of fleeting irritation, Peter did pull his hand away sharply and tucked it into his pocket. Maybe now his husband would finally realize that he did something wrong.
Because he had. Right?
The older man looked at him, blinking slowly in his confusion. “Peter?”
“Yes?” His tone was a little snappy, which he hadn’t necessarily intended. He needed to try and relax again. But it felt like he was wound too tightly, a rubber band whose elasticity was about to be pushed past its limit.
He didn’t know what would happen when the tension finally snapped.
He could see Tony watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look at him again. He kept his eyes forward as they walked.
“Talk to me,” Tony encouraged, trying to reach for his hand again. When Peter didn’t pull away or react negatively, he laced his fingers with the teen’s. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Peter bit the inside of his cheek. Hard. He knew that he couldn’t explain it. There wasn’t a way to tell Tony about the drop without explaining the illusion. And obviously that wasn’t going to happen.
But what else could he say?
“I just feel kind of off. I don’t really know how to explain it.” Not technically incorrect. But he knew that it wasn't really the answer that his husband was looking for.
Tony’s eyes were burning holes into the side of his face. “I’m sorry for that, honey. And that’s completely okay, everybody has off days, but I just… But did I do something? Because it kinda seems like I did….”
Peter finally glanced over at him, expression softening at the look on Tony’s face. He’d taken off his sunglasses and seemed sincerely apologetic, despite not having a clue what he had done. And he looked worried, too. Worried about him. “I...it’s okay, Tony. It’s- You didn’t do anything.” Lie. “I’ll be fine. Just feeling weird today, like I said.”
“Okay….” Tony sighed softly, nodding. His fingers squeezed Peter’s hand lightly. He let his eyes rove over his husband’s face for a moment, looking like he had something else to say, the words poised on the tip of his tongue. But all he did was quirk the side of his mouth up in the slightest hint of a smile, though Peter could tell it wasn’t quite a real one, staying silent as they kept walking.
Peter was quiet too, keeping his eyes trained on the sidewalk as they made their way through the park. He knew that it wasn’t Tony’s fault that he hadn’t been there to take care of him. That was just the reality of their situation; they couldn’t be together all the time. But the teen couldn’t get past the fact that he just hadn’t been there to help at all, no matter whose fault it was. It stirred something deep down inside of Peter, something hurt and upset and desperate. Something he hadn’t really known was there before.
It was a feeling that he wished he could just force down, back to wherever it came from. Ignore it until it dissipated.
But he kept coming back to the complete hopelessness that he’d felt as he sat on the floor of the compound.
Exhausted, dirty, and disconnected. With no one there to help him get better. Abandoned. It felt like he would never feel happiness again. Desolate.
And on purpose or not, it was all Tony’s fault.
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”
Peter felt irritation flash hot through his veins. “What are you talking about, Tony? I just told you that it’s nothing, just a bad day. Just drop it.”
“I- That’s not what I mean, Peter, I’m sorry. It’s just that…” Tony squeezed his hand gently, taking a deep breath as he tried to search for the right words. “Well...I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been feeling weird too, kind of off? I realized that I don’t...remember much.” And the last thing that he *could* remember from before he and Peter got together wasn’t exactly something he wanted to dwell on.
The older man paused for a moment before speaking again. “I tried to ignore it because everything else felt...good. Perfect, even.” He gave his husband a small smile. His eyes betrayed him though, revealing his confusion and anxiety. “But then the thing that happened with your aunt…,” he trailed off. “Something’s happening and I can’t just pretend it’s all okay. Not anymore. Peter, what’s going on?”
Peter just looked at him, heart pounding. There was no way this was happening. Tony shouldn’t have remembered anything about what happened with May. He’d made sure of it... Hadn’t he? “What? Nothing is going on, Tony. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He just needed to try and manipulate the situation slightly, to ensure that this time Tony forgot all about the disaster with May.
Tony frowned at the panicked look that was overtaking Peter’s face, wanting answers but worried about causing his husband any distress, knowing that he was already feeling vulnerable. “Peter, I need you to tell me. Who...what am I, baby?”
Peter heard the words, but they didn’t register immediately. He just watched Tony, the way his mouth moved and how his expression went slightly...sad? Yes, he definitely looked sad.
But then his brain processed what the other man had said and it hit him.
Tony knew. He really knew.
How did he know?
“What?” Peter froze, pulling his hand away again as he slowly took a few steps back from Tony. Was that his voice? It sounded far-away, like he was disconnected from his body again. No, no, he wasn’t going to let that happen. He never wanted to feel like that ever again. He just had to focus and fix the situation. That’s all it was, just a small fix.
He closed his eyes, trying to focus long enough to make the small adjustment to the illusion. But he kept getting distracted by the distant feeling, and the reminder of his anger from before. It wasn’t working. He huffed out of frustration, dread prickling under his skin. Why wasn’t it working? “Tony, I don’t-“
“Please, Peter,” Tony said gently. His eyes flickered down to Peter’s hand that was now hanging limply by his side. He softly shook his head, looking back up at the teen. “I just want to know the truth, whatever it is. It’ll be-”
The rubber band snapped.
“Don’t you dare tell me it will be okay or fine or whatever the hell it is you're about to say!” Peter was all but yelling, unable to keep the bitterness and pain out of his voice. He stopped walking completely, turning to face the older man. His eyes were wild as he glared up at Tony before looking away as he continued to speak. “You have no fucking right to say that Tony, you have no idea how I feel! You don’t know what it’s like to try so hard and always end up so fucking alo-”
There was a loud sound, almost a pop, that caused his eyes to open again from surprise, having closed them as he blinked back tears of frustration. His head whipped around to see if the older man knew what was happening, concern overpowering his anger, when the words died in his throat.
Red. All Peter could see was deep, dark red, spreading across the fabric of Tony’s white t- shirt. And the shocked look on his husband's face, his eyes wide with disbelief as he moved a hand to feel the spot, just underneath his heart. Right under where the arc reactor used to be.
Tony had gotten shot.
But what? No. No, no, that wasn’t right. Tony couldn’t get hurt. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Peter was only trying to correct the things he had somehow overlooked, get rid of the memories the older man wasn’t supposed to have, not-
“Peter?” Tony’s voice was a mumble as he touched his fingers to his chest, pulling away with red stained tips.
“Tony,” the teen choked out, tears stinging in his eyes again. How the fuck had that happened? He didn’t- He hadn’t meant to do anything like that, Tony wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He couldn’t-
He couldn’t leave Peter again.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, the first tears falling. Peter pressed his hands to the wound on his husband’s chest in a weak attempt to rectify the situation. He shifted his body, easily supporting most of Tony’s weight as the man’s legs started to give out. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do this. You’ve gotta believe me, Tony, I- I didn’t- I swear I didn’t mean to-”
Tony’s face was pale as he leaned his head on Peter’s shoulder, taking a shuddering breath. The sound terrified the younger man. “You didn’t...Peter, you didn’t do this.”
Peter shook his head quickly, choking back a pained cry. He didn’t want to believe that had done it. But there was no other explanation, how else would it happen? He was the only one with control in the illusion, despite the way he ‘let’ Tony be in charge during their scene the other day.
(Although that fact was seeming more and more questionable as time went on.)
He pushed Tony’s shirt up with a trembling hand after wiping his own eyes, looking blearily at the wound. It went clear through, back to front.
“Fuck, Tony,” he breathed, ignoring the blood that was dripping over his fingers. The sensation barely registered. He just needed Tony to be okay.
Maybe if he focused he could actually fix it. It had to work, there was no other option. He just... needed to focus without getting upset again. Because clearly that had only made things worse.
So much worse.
He tried to narrow his attention again, one hand pressed lightly over the injury and the other helping to support Tony as he closed his eyes. He was in control. He could make Tony better again.
Peter felt Tony’s hands cover his own and he opened his eyes, lashes still wet with tears that fought to spill over.
“I’ll be okay, baby,” the older man said quietly. He blinked slowly at Peter, trying to convey with his eyes that his trust in his husband was as strong as ever. “I know you’ll make sure I’m okay. You won’t let anything happen to me.” Maybe he didn’t know what exactly was going on, but Peter was obviously playing some sort of role in the things that were happening. He just wasn’t sure what. And trying to find out clearly hadn’t done him any good. “Let’s go home.” His voice trembled despite how he tried to sound calm.
Peter looked at him, breathing hard as he looked around. The park and the people around them carried on as if the past few minutes never happened, oblivious to the situation and his distress. Which he guessed was a good thing. Maybe. The contrast was jarring, regardless. “Home...yeah, let’s...go. We should go home.” He could keep trying to manipulate things on the way so that Tony would be okay and...maybe he’d actually get him to him to forget about everything that had happened on their walk.
He clung close to Tony, and he knew that he wouldn’t have been willing to let go of him even if he hadn’t needed to help him walk. He couldn’t. He had to make sure that his husband would be okay, and touching him allowed him some assurance that he was for the time being.
The teen regretted how angry and upset he’d been before. What happened hadn’t really been Tony’s fault and he knew that. It was all his. He’d known that the whole fucking time. It was just so easy to be hurt when he was alone and vulnerable like that.
But he wasn’t alone. At least not in Tony’s eyes.
Or… Or maybe he was since Tony was figuri-
No. He couldn’t think about that, thinking about that was only going to make things worse. He had to focus on Tony.
Despite his best efforts, spending the entire walk home watching Tony worriedly, Peter was unable to make any kind of progress in closing the wound in the older man’s chest. Tony’s body got heavier the closer they came to the tower, and by the time they reached the elevator, he was breathing shallowly as Peter supported all of his weight.
Grunting in pain as they stepped out into the foyer of the penthouse, Tony grit his teeth. “We gotta do something about this hole, Pete.” Sweat was rolling in beads down his forehead and back, soaking his already saturated shirt. “Don’t-,” he swallowed roughly, knuckles white as he clenched his fist. “Don’t wanna pass out.”
Peter nodded slowly, his reaction time slowed with his stress over the situation. Tony’s words made his heart go into overdrive again, because fuck. That was a fucking possibility, wasn’t it? Tony could lose consciousness- He could actually bleed out, even, despite the wound not being immediately fatal. Peter felt sick. “You need to stay awake,” he agreed quietly, voice shaking, unable to say the other words out loud.
If he remembered one thing from his own mishaps, it was that staying awake was vital with an injury. Especially such a serious one. Life-threatening. But he really didn’t want to think about it that way.
(Didn’t want to think about the way he’d felt cold as his eyes slipped shut on the dark train, body screaming with every breath, every pump of his heart, sure that he was dying. Sure that he’d get to be with Tony again-)
What was he supposed to do? Hell, what could he do? He clearly couldn’t get the wound closed by trying to mentally control the situation. (But why? Why was nothing working? The illusion was still up and running, so he obviously was still directing it.) So he needed to take another approach.
He wasn’t the best at doing stitches, only using them when he absolutely had to, on the wounds that he knew would take too long to heal, the ones that would catch May’s attention, but maybe that would have to do. He morbidly thought that at least he wouldn’t be the one feeling the pain this time. It probably wasn’t even the ideal response to the situation. Actual medical professionals would likely have other, more effective methods of intervention. Tony had a hole straight through his body. Peter didn’t care. It would have to do. He’d try just about anything to make Tony stop bleeding, at this point.
He silently guided Tony to their room, still supporting most of his weight as they walked. He was tempted to just hold the man in his arms, as it would certainly allow them to reach their destination faster, but he didn’t want to cause Tony any further discomfort by jostling him any more than what was necessary.
Once they were in the bedroom, he helped Tony sit down on the bed. Then once the older man seemed (relatively) comfortable, Peter reluctantly pulled away. Only to find a suture kit, but he still felt guilty.
The whole fucked up situation started because he felt alone, now he was leaving Tony alone when he needed Peter the most. Even if it was only for a couple of minutes.
Peter didn’t have to search for a kit long. Once he was able to focus, he made sure there would be one in the next drawer that he opened. Because of course there was, of course it worked. All he had to do was think of it, conjure it into existence.
Sure, he could make the equipment he needed appear on a mere whim, but he couldn’t save Tony from his own fuck up that he’d caused in the same way.
That was just fucking perfect.
He tried not to break the faucet as he turned the water on, frustration bleeding into anger.
As soon as he had the kit in his now clean hands, he rushed back to Tony’s side.
“How are you feeling now, baby?” Peter asked weakly, all of the fight that had built up in him in the bathroom disappearing at the sight of the older man. He didn’t know what he was hoping for. Maybe the wound had miraculously healed. A delayed reaction from what he’d tried earlier, or even just responding to his desperation. Anything.
Tony just gave him a pained expression, face somehow paler than it had been before. Not exactly promising. His eyes were glassy as he blinked up at Peter, mouth twitching when he grit his teeth.
“Okay...well, I found the first aid kit. So I can try to...try to fix this, okay?” Peter’s voice shook slightly despite his attempt to steady it. Even though he knew he was mostly talking to himself, he didn’t want Tony to know how afraid he was.
As if the panicked set of his eyes and the frantic way his once again blood-stained hands were jerking around trying to find something to do weren’t giving him away. He ripped Tony’s t-shirt in half, exposing his chest as he tried his best to wipe away the excess blood with some cloths he’d brought from the bathroom.
There was no real response from Tony, just a vague imitation of a nod and a grunt from the pain he was in.
Maybe… Maybe he could at least try and take away some of the pain first.
“Tony,” Peter said softly, lips trembling as he leaned down to press a kiss to his sweaty temple. “It’s gonna be okay.” He took a shaky breath, letting his eyes slip shut as he stayed in that position, curled around Tony’s body. He thought about the way he’d felt after those extra strength painkillers he’d received after his fight with Liz’s dad. The warm, thick, fuzzy feeling.
After a moment he opened his eyes again and sat up, gingerly pressing his fingers to the skin just to the side of the wound. “Can you,” he swallowed. “Can you f-feel that Tony?”
The older man groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes,” he bit out. “Of course I can feel that.” He took a labored breath. “Fuck, Pete, it hurts.” His voice was a whimper, or at least the closest thing to one the younger man had ever heard come from him.
Peter’s heart lurched in his chest and he immediately pulled his fingers away. Fuck, fuck, so he was going to have to do this without any kind of relief for Tony. “O-okay, okay,” he said unsteadily, mostly in an attempt to calm himself. He could do this.
He opened the kit that was beside them on the bed and pulled out a bottle of sterile water (there was alcohol too, but Peter knew that it would do more harm than good on such a deep wound) and a smaller kit with everything needed for suturing: suture thread, a needle driver, a couple different curved needles, and some scissors. There were forceps too, but he’d never had the patience for using them.
“This is, uh, this is probably gonna sting a bit, T, I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, looking up at Tony’s face as he uncapped the plastic bottle. “I’ll try to be quick, I p-promise.” All he got in response was another nod that was simultaneously jerky and sluggish. God, he was so out of it, and this was going to hurt so bad, Peter knew it. “Here, wait,” the teen rushed out after a moment, yanking his shirt off. “Open your mouth.”
Tony complied, making soft noises of discomfort as Peter placed some of the fabric in his mouth.
“Bite down on that, okay?” Taking a breath, Peter began to pour the clear liquid into the wound. He let out a pained cry of his own as Tony immediately began whimpering, the veins in his neck and head bulging as he pushed back against the pillows, teeth clenched around the bunched up t-shirt. “It’s okay,” Peter sobbed out, putting down the bottle and narrowly resisting the urge to run his hand through Tony’s sweat-soaked hair. He had to keep his hands as clean as possible. “It’s okay, Tony, I’m gonna fix it. I- I love you, I’m so sorry.”
Once he was satisfied that he wasn’t going to trap any bacteria inside Tony’s body, and Tony’s wails had quieted down to soft whines, Peter opened up the package of needles. He grabbed one that looked to be about the right size and threaded it with the suture line before securing it in the grip of the needle-driver. “Ok-kay Tony, here we go.”
His left hand manipulated the torn skin into the correct position while his right pushed the tip of the curved needle through. Peter gagged at the resistance he could feel, pausing and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to breathe through the nausea. He had to do this, for Tony.
Peter placed a few interrupted sutures in the front of Tony’s chest, letting out a shaky sigh when the last was secured and the surface of the small wound was closed. He knew that the only reason Tony hadn’t yelled his throat raw was because his brain wasn’t processing the pain anymore. “You did so good, Tony,” he breathed as he blinked over at the man who was shuddering with his own labored breaths before looking down at his bloodied hands.
Sitting the tools down on the sterile pad he’d laid out, the young man’s hands moved to clutch at his husband. “Baby,” he said gently, voice calm now that he had fallen into the rhythm of his actions, satisfied now that he knew that he had a way to take care of Tony. A way to help him. He could take care of Tony the way he’d wanted Tony to take care of him. “I’m gonna roll you over now, okay? I need to stitch up the e-exit wound now, on your back. You’re doing so good, it’s all gonna be alright, T.”
After placing two stitches in the skin of Tony’s back, Peter took the kit back to the bathroom. He came back with a few warm, wet washcloths that he used to wipe the blood from his husband’s body.
Tony let out a soft whimper at the touch, his features crumpling in discomfort. “Pete,” he breathed, blinking wetly.
“I know,” Peter murmured softly. “But it’s all done now, you’re gonna be okay.” He went about settling the older man properly in the bed, stripping him of his jeans and pulling the sheet up over his legs and abdomen.
The blood-soaked comforter turned operating table had been pushed to the floor along with Tony’s shredded shirt, another blanket having been dragged out of the linen closet to be draped on top of the wounded man.
Peter sat down on the bed gently, right at Tony’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere else, this was where he needed to be. He had to take care of Tony. He wasn’t going to leave him alone.
One hand held onto his husband’s, the other moving to finally gently stroke through the older man’s hair. He knew that always tended to relax Tony when he was stressed.
Tony’s eyes slowly opened up to look at him, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Well, as much of one as he could manage. “Hey, baby...” He closed his eyes again. “Should’a been a doctor, Pete,” he sighed.
Peter tried to give him a smile back, but it was just as weak as the older man’s. The adrenaline that had allowed him to focus and successfully tend to Tony’s wounds was seeping out of him, leaving him feeling drained and overwhelmed once more. “Hey, Tony. How are you feeling?” There was a pit in his stomach as he waited for an answer. He was worried that Tony would hate him once his head was finally clear from the pain. He couldn’t lose Tony here too, he couldn’t-
Tony being alive but wanting nothing to do with him would be even worse than the man dying again.
As he started panicking, Peter completely missed Tony’s answer. He was lost in his own thoughts as he spiraled further and further into the chaos in his mind.
Tony’s hand lightly squeezing his brought him back to the present, grounding him. The older man always knew just what he needed. “Peter? You okay, honey?”
“What? I’m- yeah, I’m fine.” A huge lie. But he didn’t need Tony to worry about him. All his husband needed to worry about was healing and getting better. “How are you feeling?” He repeated his question.
“I already answered that.” Tony laughed weakly, making a face when his chest throbbed at the action. “You keep spacing out on me, baby. I’m feeling alright, not too bad. It takes a lot to get me down.”
That was definitely true on some level, at least. It seemed like Tony would keep fighting no matter what. The reactor, the palladium poisoning Rhodey had told him about, the...the stones. It was both endearing to Peter, the way the man persevered despite the damage done to his body, and completely terrifying. Although he’d thought he wouldn’t have to worry about the terrifying part here in the illusion.
But Tony got hurt anyway.
The older man shook Peter out of his thoughts once again when he started speaking. He was frowning softly, and Peter could tell that it was half playful and half genuine concern. “Why are you just sitting there? Come here. If you’re banishing me to be in bed, you can at least lay here with me.”
Peter slowly nodded, moving to lay down next to the other man. He remained on top of the covers to be sure he stayed clear of Tony’s injury, not wanting to hurt him, but still cuddling up to him as best he could. He couldn’t stay away. The mere thought of being away from Tony made the panic in his chest rear its head again.
And the regret. The guilt.
He’d fucked up. He knew he did. Everything that had happened was all his fault.
But he could fix it. And it would actually work this time. He was in control of his actions, he could handle some of the issues directly. He’d care for Tony while he healed, try to figure out what the disconnect was with his influence on the illusion, and make him forget all about this horrible situation. And he’d be sure to take away memories of the confrontation from May that set the entire thing into motion
Peter knew that he could fix everything. It had to be possible. He still had control over the situation, and Tony was going to be absolutely fine after some TLC.
He just needed to do some more patching on EDITH’s neural pathways within the STARKER program.
That would surely take care of things.