I won't let you go

[spideyguy]

Things are different, After.

There's a Before and an After, now, even though sometimes Peter has difficulty separating them in his head. It feels like just yesterday he was downtown (it was yesterday...), taking pictures of chalk art for a Bugle fluff piece when the alien donut fell from the sky. Sometimes he'll say things, mention this or that, and it takes a beat for people to understand him - a reference, out of place, to something that happened half a decade ago. It takes the wind right out of his sails every time it happens, but he doesn't know what to do about it. If there's anything he can do, really.

The world is...kind of chaos. Peter leaves Tony's side exactly two times - the first, to find his Aunt (she had also been dusted, which was both a blessing and a curse, so Peter elects not to think about it too hard), and the second, to argue vehemently with the bank that took their townhouse.

It's not about the stuff, most of which has been thrown away. Their remaining neighbors saved a few of May's scrapbooks, and some of the more priceless memories - but the rest of it is gone. His camera, all of their clothes, everything. But it's not about the stuff - it's about the house. It's about the memories they pressed into the walls, about the kitchen Ben insisted they paint yellow, when he and May first moved in, because he thought it would suit them. It's about the gash in the hardwood and the scuffs on the walls, about the garden in the back, the tree May planted in Gwen's memory - which is nearly a quarter of the way grown, by now.

Peter breaks in through the window, into his (old) room, and quietly extracts the box he'd hidden under one of the floorboards. It has old webshooter components, but more importantly, it has the last of his photos. Gwen. Harry. Ben. May. Tony. His parents. Everything he ever thought was precious, so he could pull it out and look at it, sometimes. Peter's never had his paranoia be so validated.

Peter sets May up with Dr. Strange, who's opened the Sanctum to heroes and hero-adjacent peoples for the time being, and returns to Tony's side. He doesn't think they're getting the house back, doesn't even know what they'd do if they did - without the squashy couch Ben always fell asleep on, without the ugly dining chairs May had kept just to prove a point. What's the point, if it doesn't feel like home anymore?

"We've been poor before," May says, holding Peter's face in her hands. "You're here, that's all I care about. Parkers are made of strong stuff. We'll be okay."

But Peter's subdued, after that. His box lives in the corner of Tony's hospital room, tucked under a chair, and he doesn't mention it. He doesn't mention any of it, really, because Tony has way more important things to worry about - like his arm, like walking again, like dealing with the pain and any lingering after effects. He thinks Tony would have called him on it, probably, if Peter weren't so skilled at avoidance - and, guiltily, he thinks Tony's probably too tired to press it. Good. He doesn't need any more stress.

May visits, in and out, and when she does she holds Peter's hand in her's, and Tony's in the other. Peter takes the mangled one, ever so gently, and he doesn't know how Tony feels - but it feels like family, to him, and it makes his eyes burn.

"He's made of strong stuff too, you know," May whispers, as she hugs Peter goodbye at the end of one of these visits. It makes the worry Peter didn't even realize he was carrying in his chest ease, at least a little.

The day arrives when Tony is cleared to leave the hospital - earlier than Strange would recommend, but Peter thinks they just caved to the incessant annoyance. Tony could be persistent; but Peter wouldn't have let him leave if he didn't believe he was well enough. He's not sure where, exactly, to bring him, though, until Tony explains about the apartment he had in Manhattan...apparently.

It aches, because that feels like something Peter would have known if he'd been there, but he doesn't say anything about it. May fusses, heads over before them: cleans the apartment, restocks the fridge, changes the sheets. Peter thinks she just wants something to occupy her time; but when they arrive, Peter wheeling Tony in through the front door, she's already made herself scarce.

"Nice digs," Peter says, closing the door with his foot. "Disappointed in the lack of a bearskin rug, but I guess you can't win them all."

Comments

[engineous]

In all honesty, most things that involve Tony are a process. He's constantly thinking about the next thing, a future for him to create, a world to be improved. Sometimes it means that his life gets left to the side as a perpetually unfinished project, relationships in need of fine-tuning and habits to be replaced with better ones. The important thing is that Peter makes him want to try, to focus on something other than the big picture and think small for once. Tony has always been so preoccupied with saving everyone that sometimes, he forgets about himself. This is a second chance for him to fix that, though, tinker with his own way of living life and try to find a little more balance. Ever since the war against Thanos, he's been thinking that it's time to retire as Iron Man, anyway—maybe he'll be able to work on something else and, in the meantime, become a better man.

"I really like them, Pete," he replies with a smile, eyes still closed as Peter's fingers work magic in his hair and over his neck, lulling the tension from his body and soothing his muscles to relax. "Not sure about credenzas, just trying to think of where the plebian masses display their family photos." Tony had never really had any before, at least since leaving his parents' estate and rejecting pretty much all of the traditional makings of a home that they'd embraced. Now, however, he has something that he wants to keep the memories of and be able to look at them every day as a reminder of what they've worked for and what they'll continue to be protecting in the future.

The reference to Tribbles earns a bark of laughter from him and he cracks an eye open to peer up at Peter. Really, he has no right to be so adorable. "Sorry, captain, but I think my doctor might turn green if I spend my days sitting in beanbags and fucking up my very precious spine."

Humming, he turns his head a bit, facing Peter's stomach so that he can look up at him a bit coyly from the corner of his eye. "Oh, roommate, huh? I'm calling you that forever. We're not boyfriends, we're roommates. No more kisses hello, it's strictly handshakes from now on."

[spideyguy]

Peter gets that - the need to keep moving. If he's being honest, he gets it from his Aunt. You have to keep moving, because the bills don't pay themselves and the groceries don't magically appear, and the leaky faucet you had last week is still there - it doesn't matter that your world shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. You sweep it up and you keep moving, because while you're still kicking you need to keep a roof over your head and clothes on your back, and lucky for the dead, they don't have to worry about that anymore. Peter forgets that, sometimes; and sometimes he hates it, too, because the world takes and it takes and it finds something else to take, even when you don't think you have anything else - but Tony, God. Peter was dead set on never giving his heart to anyone else ever again after the first and last spectacular shitshow of epic proportions, and Tony ruined all those plans without even trying. Tony reminds him that the world's only worth saving if you've got a world of your own, too.

"Then I'll have to steal a bathroom, make it into a makeshift darkroom." He's pretty sure Tony could have a room outfitted for developing photos within twenty-four hours if he wanted to, but it's more fun doing it in a bathtub. "I'll take whichever one is most inconvenient."

"...come to think of it, I think May did have a credenza." Peter snorts, trying to picture the entrance - he's pretty sure his backpack knocked into it more than once, but he never paid much attention. Peter's fingers keep working through Tony's hair, fingertips rubbing gentle circles against his scalp, untangling any knots or twists as he went. Tony laughs and Peter smiles, genuinely pleased by the reaction. For the first time in a while, it almost sounds unburdened. "Damn. And here I thought the green science officer was the worst I had to worry about."

His other hand does run down Tony's spine lightly, just tracing nonsensical patterns against his back. They're definitely cuddling, like some hardcore cuddling is happening right now, but Peter's not going to call it out. He might have, before, but...not right now. "Roommates can kiss each other hello. Pretend we're...I don't know, French or something. Enchanté, Monsieur. I can't pay rent this month but I sure can give you a roll in the hay you won't forget."

"I must admit," Peter snickers to himself, peering down at Tony. "'He's my ex-boyfriend, but current-roommate' does have a nice ring to it. That's like the perfectly-designed phrase for awkward encounters."