Pull Us Back

the yelling

[i deadass cried writing this so have fun lol-cj]

Tony (reluctantly) followed the stupidly handsome super-soldier. For the first time in forever, Steve actually looked mad. Not sad, not desperate, but mad.  His arms were crossed and his usually glistening sky blue eyes were frozen ice cold. Tony could tell his teeth were clenched by his jaw. And honestly? He looked hot.

No. Shut up Tony. You hate him.

"What in the world, Tony?" Steve growled, steam basically seething out of his ears. "Bad mouthing me to a teenager?"

"Peter deserves to know the truth about douchebag guys he should look out for, Rogers."

"I'm not a douchebag!"

"Your recent kissing records say other wise, blondie."

"I didn't kiss her!" Steve suddenly snapped, face flushing red. "All I did was fucking flirt! She kissed me!"

"Oh, like flirting didn't help that?"

"You pushed me to this point!"

"What point, being an absolute fucking asshole?!"

In the living room, Clint had already taken out his bright purple hearing aids as soon as the two walked into the kitchen alone. It seemed as if the other Avengers were 100% used to this, which freaked Peter out even more.

"Oh, that's exactly like you, you fucking whore!"

Peter's mind started closing in on itself. It felt like his throat was closing in. He coughed hard, trying to get oxygen in. He gripped onto the couch.

"You never let me speak, Tony!"

What did Aunt May always tell him to do when he panicked? Fuck... Aunt May. Aunt May. She's dead. It's all Peter's fault. He should have been faster. Why wasn't he faster?

"If Bucky wouldn't 'do this to you,' why don't you just go fuck him like I always thought you would!"

Help. Help him. He started signing 'help' like he was supposed to. Clint quickly signed back 'what's wrong?'

'Panic attack.'

'Breathe in four, hold seven, and breathe out eight, ok?'

'Yes.'

Peter tried his best to, but couldn't. The yelling was too much. Help him. Help him.

Clint grabbed Peter's hand and placed it on his chest. 'Breathe with me, okay?'

Peter gripped onto his shirt and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the rise and fall of Clint's chest. He tried his best to sync their breathing.

"You're doing good, Peter," he heard another voice whisper. Peter opened his eyes to see Bruce Banner. Bruce smiled softly at the boy.

"Th-thank you, Dr. Banner."

"I think they've calmed down, okay? Was the yelling scaring you?"

"Y-Yeah." Well, this was mortifying. Telling one of your idols you're scared of something as stupid as yelling.

"Hey, it's okay, Peter. We're all scared of something." Bruce smiled softly. "And if you're embarrassed by your panic attack, don't be. Both I and your dad also get them."

Peter smiled wider. "Thank you."

"Don't you walk away, Stark!"

Peter yelped, and Clint brought the boy to his chest, cradling his head in his hand protectively.

"Fuck off, Rogers!" Tony continued storming towards his lab.

"Do you want me to leave, Tony? Cause I fucking will if it annoys you so much that I simply have to exists in your presence, your majesty!" Steve spat, stopping at the top of the staircase that lead to Tony's lab. Tony suddenly turned to Steve, fists balled and jaw clenched.

"Absolutely nothing would make me happier than you getting the hell out of my life."

Steve's eyes started filling with tears. He turned, but continued to yell at Tony anyways. "I knew we were a bad idea. You're just too much of a conceited asshole to work with anyone!"

He was about to open their bedroom when Tony yelled back, "Ex-fucking-cuse me?"

"You're a conceited asshole! You ruin everything! You ruined your life, my life, and anyone's lives you come in contact with!"

"Maybe if you spent five minutes without your head shoved up your ass, you'd realize you're not exactly perfect either!"

Steve became so ultimately pissed off, he tore the door right off the hinges and threw it down the hall. "Oh, now you're ruining my home, huh?"

"Listen closely, Stark. No matter how long you're here, or anyone for that fact, as long as you're here, it'll never be a home." Steve stormed into the room and pulled out a ratty backpack.

"What the fuck does that mean?!"

"It means that home has family," Steve yelled, voice starting to waver. "You aren't family to anyone, and you never will be. Sure, maybe biologically with Peter, but you'll fuck things up with him to eventually."

That really hit a sore spot for Tony.

"Never bring my son into an argument again, Rogers," Tony whispered, despite his tone being lethal. "And get the fuck out of my house."

Steve shouldered the backpack. "Never say I never did anything for you, Tony. Because I told you something neither yourself or anyone else would tell you. The truth."

"Get the fuck out."

"Gladly."

Steve stormed out of the room and then the building, leaving Tony alone in their once shared room. How dare he? All the pent up emotions from the past week bubbled up inside his throat and came out in heaving sobs.

Peter wiggled his way out of Clint's grasp when he heard the yelling stop and the crying start, despite Clint's protests. Peter was still panicking slightly, but his dad needed comforting more at the time than Peter did. The boy stopped at the doorframe.

"D-Dad?"

"Pete?" Tony looked up at his worried son, trying to wipe away the still extremely obvious tear marks. "Whatcha need, kiddo?"

Peter rushed over and hugged his dad, making him cry. "I'm sorry, Pete- This was supposed to be a good night and I fucked it all up-"

"It's okay, Dad. I still had fun!"

"And I know you don't like yelling- oh, shit, did you have an anxiety attack? I know you were already anxious-"

"I did, but it's okay-"

"Oh, god dammit, I'm sorry, Peter, I fucked up your night-"

Peter ended up realizing all attempts of comforting his dad would end up futile at this point. He sat with his dad until he cried himself to sleep.

"I love you, Dad. And I promise to kick Steve Rogers' ass one day."

Word count: 1054