Chapter Text
Getting away from the house seemed to do them both some good, something Tony was trying not to read too much into. He convinced the kid to sit with him for a while in the rose garden, massaging his ankle while describing his mom’s work in the garden (she’d planned it) and the collaboration of the Jarvises (Momma and Ana had always gotten along very well, almost like sisters). Pete was surprised there were still flowers on the bushes this late in the season, but Tony wasn’t.
“Momma chose varieties that would bloom for as long as possible in this environment. They’ll still bloom in October, even.” If Pete didn’t want to go into the graveyard after all, that would be fine, he decided, but he’d probably cut some of the flowers to leave with the two women’s graves.
“You said you fought with your parents right before they died?” Pete asked, looking away from him, his voice quiet as if he wasn’t sure he should be asking this.
“With my dad. Things were always a little more combative with him. My momma wasn’t mad- I think- she was just upset that we were fighting again. And I wouldn’t tell her that I loved her cause I was hurt that she didn’t try harder to defend me. I wish I had.”
Pete toed at the pathway in front of them. “I don’t remember my parents,” he said next.
“You were very little when they died,” Tony said gently.
“You’d think I’d remember something…”
“What is your first memory, baby?” Tony was curious.
Pete looked over at him, then squinted up at the sky. A breeze blew through them, thrusting the smell of roses over them. “Bowling with Ben and May,” he decided.
“Yeah? How old were you?” He was fascinated.
“Maybe like five or six? I wasn’t in school yet.”
“Probably five then.” Tony tapped Pete on the shoulder. “May showed me and Steve pictures of you when you were little.”
“What? When?”
“Mm, last time we had dinner together. You were out on your date with MJ-” Pete slugged him in the stomach. Tony held up his hands, protesting, laughing. “You always had those beautiful brown eyes, baby, but your curly hair-” He mimed the chef’s kiss gesture. Pete shook his head at him, laughing now.
“Are there baby pictures of you in there?” Pete asked, tilting his head at the house.
“No,” Tony lied. An acorn bonked him on the head and he looked upwards in disbelief. They weren’t even under a tree… Up above them, a crow flapped, angry perhaps to have lost its treasure. “What is this, sarcasm?” Tony asked. The open air didn’t answer, not that he’d expected much. “There might be a few photos,” he allowed.
“Seems like those would be good for your project,” Pete said triumphantly.
“Perhaps.”
“That’s a yes.”
“Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Petey,” he sighed.
“I learned from the best…”
“Me?”
“Natasha.” And that did kind of make sense. Tony let him have that one. “Does your leg hurt a lot?”
“Just a little,” he lied. “Do you want to walk in the woods now? The foliage around here was always pretty.” Pete nodded, holding out a hand to help him up. Tony refused to let go afterwards. He kissed the kid’s knuckles. “Still worrying about that school project?” he asked.
Pete shrugged rather glumly. “There should be other ways to do genealogy projects,” he complained.
“I agree, Pete.” He let the topic go as they reached the threshold of the forest but he never let go of Pete’s hand. And Pete didn’t protest.
In fact, Pete did something that night that he hadn’t asked to do in nearly a year- not since he’d been badly hurt- he asked Tony if they could share a bed. “Would that be weird? I know I’m too old-”
“Old, you’re a teenager. You’re just starting out.” Tony looked into Pete’s brown eyes, so like his own, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you okay, honey?”
Pete just shuffled. “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t need to actually, I was just kidding-”
“Of course you can sleep with me. I love cuddling with you. You’re like a heated blanket, turned all the way up.” The teen gave him a look, so unsure of himself that Tony’s heart flip flopped. “Please, Pete? I missed a lot of years that I would have liked to have seen you grow. We didn’t get to do this kind of stuff while you were young. Let me have it now. Weird and all.”
And Pete had no business looking so grateful like that. Tony pushed down his instinctive need to tell Pete they could leave in the morning, that hell- they would go tonight if it made him feel better. There had been a reason to bring Pete with him. He’d chosen him over any of the others for a specific purpose. He wasn’t willing to give that up yet. He decided he would even find those baby pictures for Pete. Peter deserved them.
He did tug Pete forward however. Nobody could blame him for needing to hold the kid extra. Not after what that woman did to him last spring. “Are you nervous cause of the graveyard?”
“No.”
“You’d tell me if it bothered you?”
“Sure would.”
“Okay.” He had to believe Pete. He gave him an extra squeeze. Pete was strong, sturdy. Solid.
“You hug so much now,” Pete mumbled into his clavicle.
“I’m making up for lost time,” he answered readily, rocking the teen in his arms. “You’re my sweetheart.”
“Thought that was Steve.”
“Steve’s my honey. You’re my sweetheart. Natasha’s my girl. Everyone gets a title. You get many. Cause you’re special.”
“You literally just called me honey,” Pete pointed out.
He sniffed imperiously. “Trust me, I can tell you apart from my husband; the man’s a brick-”
“Tony,” Pete laughed.
“I can’t brag about my hunk?” he asked, but he was grinning at Peter. He felt like something ruffled his hair, but there was nothing there- they were alone- and he decided to focus on Pete. “Get in bed,” he said then, releasing the teen.
“Are you going to bed now too?”
“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?”
“This is really early for you,” Pete pointed out, crawling under the covers. He watched Tony moving around the room.
“Well, I’m not going to sleep right away. But we can talk until you sleep and then I might read my book. I have to give it back to your aunt when we get back- she’s been waiting.”
“Anything new on those readings that Friday sent you?”
He tapped his watch. “She’s collecting data. Last I checked, nothing had changed. They’re still there. Sometimes stronger than others. We’ve been all over this place. The signals seem to be coming from everywhere…”
He undressed carefully, trying not to aggravate his swollen ankle any more than it already was. Pete was watching him, he knew, and he found that he didn’t care as much as he would have, years and years ago. There was something warmly domestic about stuff like this, getting ready for bed with his teenager nearby, playing board games on rainy days. Talking him to sleep.
“I love you,” he said, climbing under the covers at last. He threw an arm across Pete’s chest, pinning him down. “So much.”
“Love you,” Pete whispered back.
He played with Pete’s hands over the covers. “Sorry this is turning into a weird trip, kid.”
“I still like it,” the teen said loyally. He pressed his cheek against Tony’s shoulder. “I’m with you.”
Tony felt something well up in his throat at that. Being home was reminding him of his parents- reminding him a lot of them and he’d known it would- but he’d never felt quite this way with them. He’d never been quite sure they loved him, but he knew he’d wanted it when he was young… and then when he was a teenager, he had pretended he didn’t need it. Now as an adult…?
“Is it strange being back here?” Pete asked then, voice hesitant.
Tony stared up at the ceiling, feeling the press of Pete’s hip against his own. “Yeah,” he said. ‘Tell the truth, Tony.’ His inner voice sounded suspiciously like Steve. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. The last time I was here, it was just before Christmas, and I was fighting with my parents.”
He could feel Pete looking at him. “You never said what the argument was about. What were you-?” And then the kid closed his mouth again.
“I was mad at them because they weren’t going to be home at Christmas and I’d driven all the way back from MIT to see them. Turned down plans with Rhodey. And I was mad at myself for expecting anything different, because they usually missed the holidays. I thought it would be different because it was my last year at college… Afterwards, I felt like it was my fault that I felt hurt because I’d set myself with unrealistic expectations. And I was hurt because it felt like they didn’t love me.”
Above their head, a pipe groaned. Pete flinched at the sudden sound, so close. He focused on Tony. “What you felt makes sense,” he whispered. And, because it apparently didn’t make any sense to him, he asked, “You were going to be alone? They’d really leave you here at Christmas?”
“Mm, not completely. Jarvis and his wife were going to be there; they were always like a second set of parents to me- a replacement set maybe- but… but I did want my parents there too.” He ran his thumb over Pete’s hand. “I wish we hadn’t argued right before they died.” He knew he was repeating himself but he couldn’ help it. He really hated how they’d left things. And he couldn’t fix it.
Pete curled into his side. “I bet they wish that too.”
It was a weird thought. He didn’t have a lot of belief in an afterlife and even less belief that his parents would have changed or admitted mistakes. Still, he drew Pete closer. “You know what I wish? I wish they’d met you. You’re made of the best parts of me.”
“Think so?”
“Yeah, kid. You’re everything I wanted to be. You’re so good. I could never tell you enough.”
“You’re getting mushy,” Pete pointed out. His fingers curled around Tony’s wrist.
“Our collective little family has been working on me. Unfair,” he complained. “We never talked about our feelings, my family, not here. Not with each other. What we dreamt about, what made us mad… I don’t know, Pete. I talked to my dad about movies. Would watch anything he was interested in. Thought if I liked the things he liked, he’d like me too.”
“Did it work?”
“It kept us talking at least…”
“I wish you really were my dad,” Pete mumbled into his shoulder. Quiet. He did that when he was trying to tell Tony things he also didn’t want to say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling above them. His eyes found lines in the plaster. Fancied he saw faces in them. His mom. Jarvis. Even-
“I’m your guardian,” he reminded Pete. “I chose you. Didn’t have to. Wanted to. Everything that's mine is yours. What does it mean, being a real dad? You tell me what to do, I’ll do it.”
Pete blinked at him. Smiled faintly. “Thought maybe…” He didn’t complete the thought.
Tony waited for him, but the answer never came. He held back a sigh. He wanted to know these things inside Pete’s head. The doubts. Would knock them all out of there like cobwebs if the kid would let him. “No,” he said finally. “You’re mine. And May’s.”
“And Steve’s?”
He huffed. “Steve’s too, I suppose, but mostly you’re mine.”
“Okay, Tony.”
“My parents never thought I’d be responsible enough for a kid.”
“They only knew you when you were a teenager. I’m told we’re impulsive,” Pete said sleepily.
“I was an angry teenager.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Acted out a lot. Got into trouble. They thought I was bad. I wanted to be good. Wish I’d been more like you. Seems like…” Pete was falling asleep. He could see him struggling against it. That wouldn’t do. “I like your Ned stories,” he said, changing tacts. Pete hummed, his eyes fluttering shut. “You should ask MJ out one of these days.” A shake of the head. “She likes you. I see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Trust me. Anyways… Steve wants to bring you sledding this winter.”
“Sledding…”
He traced nonsensical shapes on Pete’s back, hearing the boy’s breathing slowing down, getting heavier. When Pete was finally asleep, he pressed his lips to the teen’s forehead again. He was too affectionate with Pete, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. They’d found him, bleeding and half starved…
Hesitantly, he slid a hand along the teen’s rib cage. Solid muscle and a hint of the bones underneath, but not unnaturally thin. “You’re my future, Pete,” he said into the darkness.
He was asleep before he knew it.
It was Peter that woke him up, hours later. The room was still dark- he couldn’t see shit- and he peeled off his sweatshirt so that the light of the arc reactor provided at least some visibility. “What’s the matter?” he said groggily.
“Do you hear that?” Pete asked.
He cocked his head, sitting up. He didn’t hear anything.
“Piano playing,” his boy insisted, and he was getting up.
“Piano playing?” he repeated, struggling to get up as well. He stood- and his ankle screamed at him- right, he’d forgotten. Didn’t matter. He padded out after Peter and now, standing at the top of the grand staircase, he could hear it too… And he knew that song. “Stay here, Pete.”
“No, you said we had to stick together-”
“Fine, but be very quiet and stay behind me,” he whispered insistently.
They crept down the stairs, one of Tony’s hands clasping Peter’s wrist. His ankle hurt, but he forced himself not to say a word. The piano music was coming from his mother’s music room- it was the song that she’d played the last time he’d seen her- he’d named the September Foundation after it-
He threw open the door of the room, dragging Pete behind him-
And there was nothing.
Nobody at the piano. No radio. No TV on this floor. “It’s gone,” Pete said, and he sounded scared. “But you heard it too?”
“I don’t know,” he said through numb lips. “Let’s search the place- stay alert.”
He kept his hand on Pete the entire time, moving first to the kitchen to the right of the music room and throwing on lights as they went through the rooms- kitchen, butler’s pantry, his father’s study, the conservatory (he checked the doors to the outside- they were locked, he even rattled them), and on through the library, back around to the living room in one big loop.
There was nobody there. They were alone.
“Maybe we just misunderstood,” Pete suggested at last, shivering visibly. “It could have been… I don’t know, a radio with a wire crossed or something. There’s no one here.”
Tony didn’t speak immediately. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a roaring in his ears. This had never happened when he had lived here. And he knew there was no way that they could have both hallucinated the same noise. But he looked at Pete’s face and Pete looked tired and slightly desperate and scared. Tonight wasn’t the night to tell Pete the rest of the stuff about Friday’s readings. And he didn’t like himself for bringing Pete here without telling him everything.
He’d been so sure Friday had been wrong. And now-?
“Let’s go back to bed, baby,” he said finally. “There’s nothing to worry about. I am your dad. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe. Come on, Roo.”
He made a big show of putting Pete to bed- the kid definitely huffed at him, but he let him continue and that was what counted- He dragged a heavy quilt out from the closet and smoothed it over Pete. Ana had made this. He remembered it. “I think maybe the late hour is just playing tricks on us, Tony,” Pete said, sounding sleepy. “We’re nervous because of the animal from yesterday. That’s all. Right?”
“Right,” Tony lied. He didn’t believe it himself. Something strange was happening here. “Close those eyes.”
Pete was peering into his face in the darkness though. “I think… being back here… is kind of stressing you out.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. That one was fair. “We’ll find some stuff to slap together and I can bring you somewhere normal for the rest of our week, if you want. I can monitor the situation from afar. Sic Strange on the house. He owes me. We can go home.”
“I want to stay,” Pete whispered, surprising him.
“Do you?”
“Yeah. It’s just you and me. We go home and I have to go back to school and pretend that I’m okay and sometimes, Tony, I don’t think I am. But I’m happy wherever you are… Please, let’s give it a try? As long as I’m with you I’m fine.”
Sometimes Pete’s kindness was too much for him. Hurt his heart. He didn’t think he deserved it. “That’s my line,” he said gruffly. He brushed hair out of the kid’s eyes.
“You’ve got to sleep too-”
“I will.”
And he tried, he really did, but he mostly lay awake, listening to Pete snore, feeling his soft breaths tickling the hairs on his arm. There was no sound from the rest of the house. The air didn’t have that heavy feeling it had had when they’d woken up. Whatever- whoever?- had been playing his mother’s favorite song? They’d gone away now.
Pete, ever the heat seeking missile, rolled and lay practically on top of him somewhere around three and under the weight of the teen, he finally fell asleep, arms firmly wrapped around his chest.
In the morning, he stumbled into the shower. He felt groggy; his leg smarted. Standing under the stream of hot water, he tried to make sense of his thoughts. Something strange was happening. He didn’t know what though.
Getting out of the shower, Tony didn’t see it at first. It wasn’t until he went to shave that he raised his eyes to the mirror- fogged up from the shower steam and with a message clearly scrawled. Two words. ‘Sorry Anthony.’
“What the fuck,” he whispered.