Work Text:
Die.
Rewind.
Die.
Rewind.
Die.
Rewind.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
The faces began to morph together, twisted in some perverse dance of pain and misery. Quill, Mantis, Drax. Peter. Tony. Thanos, Dormammu, Ebony Maw. They all swirled together, mangled and horrific, screaming out in voices warped by screams. There was no distinguising who was who, what was what. The air grew thin, the sky was dark, the world was cold. More bodies joined the monstrous behemoth, begging for release.
Wong, Banner. Faces known. Faces unrecognizable.
The smell of blood was heavy. Metallic and thick. Whose blood was it? It was hard to tell. Dust. Smoke. Ash. Clogging, choking, suffocating.
Pain. Endless infinite pain.
Forever.
Stephen woke up with a jolt.
It wasn't like most nightmares where he opened his eyes, screaming, gasping for breath. It was a cold awakening, his blood like ice in his veins, his throat clenched shut. He sat up, looking over. Tony was fast asleep, lying on his back with his jaw slack. He looked so peaceful like this. The lines that came with age melted away while he slept. His chest rose and sank to a steady rhythm.
Hauling himself out of bed, Stephen tried to silently make his way to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and cringed at his reflection. Dark circles shone under his eyes. His mouth, no matter how hard he tried to smile, seemed stuck in a garrish scowl. His skin was pale and ashen, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his brow and chest.
Turning on the faucet, Stephen splashed his face with water. It was burning hot, steaming rising in thick whorls. His fingers burned but he ignored it. The heat was a welcome distraction from the lingering cold.
"Mornin'."
Stephen watched the door through the mirror. Tony was awake but barely, his eyes lidded, his posture relaxed and languid. He leaned against the door frame, trying to appear nonchalant. The soft light of the Arc Reactor illuminated his face.
"It's 3am." Stephen replied.
"That's technically morning."
Tony watched his husband's face, his expression unreadable. It was amazing how well he could hide himself, even when he was mostly unconscious.
"Nightmares again?" He asked.
"Yeah."
"How bad? Scale of 1-10."
"... 10."
Tony's face contorted slightly, his brow furrowing, his mouth twisting into a frown. He hesitated, crossing the tile to wrap his arms around Stephen's chest, his head pressed between his shoulder blades. Stephen could feel the Reactor pressed against his spine, the familiar sensation helping him come down to Earth.
"How can I help?" Tony whispered.
Stephen patted his husband's hand, stroking a thumb across his knuckles.
"I. I'm gonna go for a swim."
Tony lifted his head, peering around Stephen's shoulder to meet his reflection's eyes. He looked pained, conflict waging war on his face. It hurt Stephen to see such agony in his eyes.
"Are you sure? We could-- we could watch that stupid movie you love so much or I'm sure Peter wouldn't mind if we borrowed his Xbox or maybe we could go for an early morning drive--"
"Tony."
Stephen twisted around, cradling Tony's face in his hands.
"I appreciate how badly you wanna help," He smiled, though the gesture didn't quite reach his eyes. "But you and I both know our copimg mechanisms aren't that... Nice. Last time you had a similar nightmare, you set one of the Iron Man suits on fire."
"Yeah but--"
"Tony. Please."
Stephen leaned down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his husband's lips. The contact was chaste, light as a feather, but sparked echoes of comfort through the chambers of Stephen's heart. When he pulled back, Tony looked exhausted.
"Don't... Do anything stupid, okay?" He pleaded, reaching up to cradle Stephen's face in his hands. "I wanna see you back before noon."
"It's a date."
Tony smiled, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He watched as Stephen left the bathroom, ducking into the closet and quickly returning with his swim pants on.
"God those should look absolutely fucking ridiculous," Tony commented, watching Stephen paint himself a portal. "But they make your ass look amazing."
Stephen laughed, the first hints of happiness leeching back into his voice.
"Only for you, darling."
With that, he stepped out of the room and vanished.
The English Channel was colder than Stephen anticipated. As soon as he hit the water, his body nearly went into shock. He held onto his consciousness, summoning a plume of fire from his lips. The wash of heat helped him snap back into focus.
He swam hard, fighting against choppy waves and swirling currents. Swimming wasn't his favorite exercise but the incessant movement and temperature helped him ground himself. This was real. The water, the dusky sky above, the fabric hugging his skin and the salty air in his lungs. The nightmare was nothing but a memory, long passed, separate from reality.
With every brisk slap of water against his body, Stephen repeated a mantra.
I'm here.
I'm alive.
They're here.
They're alive.
He closed his eyes against the breach, sucking in air and dipping below the waves. The cold embrace of the sea soothed his soul. It was a stark contrast against the steely bite of fear he felt in those nightmares. This chill was organic, more akin to a cool glass of water on a hot Summer's day.
When his hands were pruney and his eyes were stinging, Stephen stopped.
Stephen clambered through the portal, hefting himself onto familiar tile flooring. He was sure Tony would be livid if he pooled water in the Tower. With shaking hands, he summoned a gust of wind, obliterating every wayward drop.
He made his way to the communal kitchen, his head clear and his stomach rumbling. When he rounded the corner, he was surprised to find he wasn't alone.
"... Good morning."
Peter paused mid bite, a half-eaten sandwich in his hands. His brown eyes were wide and panicked.
"... Mornin', doc," Peter replied, slowly setting down his snack. "You're up early."
"What time is it?"
"... 4am."
Stephen sighed through his nose. He turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a protein shake. Peter watched, shuffling awkwardly on his feet.
"Why are you up so early?" Stephen asked, popping off the lid and taking an apprehensive whiff. He preferred the chocolate flavored ones but vanilla would have to do.
"Y'know like. When you're younger and you have those growth spurts that make you feel like you're starving all the time?"
Stephen nodded. When he was a teen, he'd gone from 5'9" to his full 6'4" in only a year. It'd been a rough time for everyone involved.
"I think like. Everytime I gain a new mutation, it gets like that," Peter took a big bite of his sandwich, drowning it with a hefty swig of milk. "The last time this happened, my Spidey Sense got more like. Clear and accurate."
"Interesting," Stephen pursed his lips in thought. "Maybe this time you'll get an extra seven sets of eyes."
Peter choked on his sandwich, half coughing and half laughing.
"Oh god please no, anything but that!" He spluttered.
Stephen smiled. His heart ached. The final ashes of the nightmare swirled at the back of his brain. Setting down his drink, he made his way over to Peter. The younger Avenger didn't say anything, letting Stephen gently take the sandwich from his hands and put it back on its plate.
With a sad smile, Stephen folded himself around Peter, enveloping him in a tight hug. Peter stood still for a moment before raising his arms, wrapping his hands around Stephen's back. The sorcerer's skin was freezing cold and a slight tremor ran through his body. They stayed like that for a while, Stephen's face buried in Peter's hair while Peter stroked gentle circles against Stephen's shoulder blades. Only when Stephen seemed to finally relax, a quiet sigh escaping his lips, did Peter speak up.
"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, dad, I promise. I get nightmares too."
Stephen chuckled softly, giving Peter an affectionate squeeze.
"How do you deal with them?" The sorcerer asked.
When Stephen pulled back, he realized Peter was embarrassed, a light flush spreading across his cheeks.
"I usually uh. Y'know. Stress eat."
Stephen ran a hand through his hair, laughing brightly.
"Speaking of, what the hell is in that sandwich?"
Peter grinned wickedly. He opened up the bread, watching Stephen's face. Inside was an entire chocolate bar and a handful of marshmallows. They were lightly toasted, speckled with flecks of charcoal.
"It's a s'mores sandwich. A s'mandwich." Peter looked proud, his smile blinding.
"...That's unholy. Could you make me one?"
Tony made his way to the kitchen well after the sun rose, scrubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his palms. He froze when he found both his husband and son sharing a fully loaded banana split sundae, leaning over the counter and laughing between themselves.
"... Good morning." Tony piped up.
"Good morning, Anthony."
"Mornin' dad!"
Tony crossed the kitchen, pausing to ruffle Peter's hair and drop a kiss on Stephen's cheek. He turned on the coffee machine, hands in his pockets, unsure if he was actually awake or still fast asleep. When he looked behind him, he saw Peter shoveling a spoonful of whipped cream into his mouth. Stephen stuck out his tongue, showing off a perfectly tied cherry stem.
"So did we all have nightmares?"
The duo twisted around in their seats. Tony had a warm smile on his face. He sniffled, scratching at the back of his neck as he turned to get his coffee.
"I guess so," Stephen replied. "Peter, did you...?"
"Yeah," He avoided eye contact, clenching his spoon in his fist. "But it's fine. Don't sweat it."
Tony leaned in between the pair, stealing Stephen's spoon and snatching up a glob of ice cream. It was half melted, mixing into a swirl of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla, dripping caramel and fudge. He shoveled it into his mouth, swiping the ice cream that curled down his lower lip with his tongue.
"Fuck, that's good," Tony sighed, going in for a second helping. "Is this the new post-trauma remedy?"
"If we do this again, it might warrant a trip to the hospital," Stephen laughed, taking back his spoon. "I hope you don't mind getting your stomach pumped."
"Gross," Peter wrinkled his nose. He seemed to be eating only the whipped cream at this point. "I had a friend who drank too much once and had to get her stomach pumped."
"Peter, you aren't even legal yet."
"I didn't say she was an upstanding citizen."
Stephen watched the two banter, his heart squeezing in his chest. The last dregs of his nightmare faded away, replaced by the soothing warmth his little disfunctional family brought. Standing up from the counter, Stephen beckoned for the two to follow.
"It's supposed to be beautiful out today," He beamed. "Might as well enjoy it under the guise of a patrol."
"Suit up?" Peter grinned from ear to ear, already scrambling out of his seat.
"Suit up, Spider-Man."
Peter ran off towards his room like a speeding bullet. Tony rounded the counter, smirking behind his mug of coffee.
"You spoil him too much," Tony teased. "You're lucky he isn't little or you could be raising a supervillain."
"That boy doesn't have a drop of evil intention in him," Stephen shot back, stealing a final scoop of chocolate ice cream. "I'm simply... Trying to make up for time lost."
Tony sighed, the dreamy kind that made his eyes scrunch up and his lips curl at the corners. He took a long sip of coffee before leaning across the counter. He met Stephen's lips, his own warm from his drink and Stephen's cool from the ice cream. The kiss was sweet, both in affection and taste.
"I think we're both pretty damn good parents so far." Tony muttered.
"Not to boost your ego but I wholeheartedly agree."
Stephen watched his husband drain the last of his coffee before heading back upstairs, no doubt to get dressed for the day. Stephen stayed behind, rising out the bowl and silverware. He smiled as the final remains of the sundae swirled down the drain, bringing any last sense of ill feelings with it. Once the dishes were put away, Stephen went to join Tony upstairs, eager to get out and face the day.
Life is good. I'm okay.