Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

(time) to go home

a/n: helloooo!!! before you read, super super important, this oneshot is co-written by myself and @idkbutidolikemarvel !!! this is my first time properly co-writing and publishing something with another writer on wattpad, but i'm honoured to have it with someone as talented as them!! please go check out their uploaded oneshot and show some support :-)

⚠️angst/no way home spoilers!⚠️

They said on all the parenting blogs, books, in photo frames held up in the maternity offices Tony dragged Pepper to, that being a parent is akin to having a piece of your heart walking outside of your body.

It's been two years since Tony's heart fell to bits, gone to the winds of an alien planet, and now it was held together loosely by candle wax and purple buttercream frosting.

Morgan Stark's first birthday party. The aftermath. Even after such a fortunate day, there was still a sorrow soaked in the air, something almost tangible by the way Tony's smiles rarely reach his eyes, or the way Pepper frowned subtly when Tony stared silently at his dinner some nights. Healing is supposed to take more time than a body lived, it felt like, and he was still painfully living.

It took two hours, but he and Pep managed to coax the newborn to sleep. The guests had since gone home, so Tony stood in the doorway while Pepper washed her face in their bedroom's bathroom.

Pepper turned the tap off and looked at him patiently. "Is it an off night?"

Tony ran his tongue over his teeth and half-shrugged. Sighed quietly with defeat. Yeah. Sorry, honey."

"It's okay." Pepper smiled sadly at him and rubbed a hand over the new sweater draped over his shoulders. "Take some time. Try to come to bed before it gets too late though, hm?"

Tony nodded, putting his hand over hers and squeezing gratefully. "I'll just clean up, maybe do some dishes. I'm sure Rhodey left the party hats out."

Pepper hummed pleasantly and retreated to their king-sized bed, tucked herself under the thick quilted comforters and clicked off the lamp. "Love you."

"Love you too," Tony whispered. He waited a moment, then continued to slip out of the bedroom and retreat down the stairs.

The clock over the stovetop told him it was nearing eleven in the afternoon, further proven by the darkness pouring in through the windows and the nighttime ambience of frogs and crickets and trees whistling from the breeze.

It's bad nights like these that make him reframe where he was and how he got here.

He thought back to the never ending before, where the grief was freshest and he was more of a shell of a man than an actual being, from the empty numbness of his head to the bone of his ribs poking through his malnourished skin.

Yes, the first months were definitely the hardest. Right after Pepper gave birth, and in the delivery room Tony cradled a newborn. A baby. A real, living, heart-beating, tiny-toe curling, finger-pinching, chest-expanding baby. There was a deep fear underneath, knowing in the back of his head that the same hands had cradled the ghost of a different child, one that was also his responsibility, one that was also under his watch, and one that—

It was different, though, wasn't it? Because now he was a real father. Peter was never really his. (And yet, grief cared for no such technicality. It took and it took until there was nothing left to take.)

And god, the nightmares— the nightmares were the worst. Disregarding the ones of him being there, the ones where the chill of cold metal and whirring cosmos had him shivering like a ghost under layers of sheets, the ones where his hands shook and the kid was so goddamn scared, begging and pleading for help that Tony couldn't give— disregarding those, the nightmares were enough to keep the bad days on a steady continuing calendar cycle.