The Dadsandwich

Don't Touch Him

Narrator's POV

"Stephen!" Tony said, rushing into the Sanctum with papers in his hands. "Stephen!" He called.

Stephen appeared at his side, holding a cup of warm tea in one hand and a tissue in the other. He looked awful. He looked like he had been crying a lot. His eyes were red and puffy.

He had been mourning the death of his little son.

"Tony." Stephen said, squinting an eye, indicating Tony he was being too loud.

"I'm sorry Honey." Tony said. "But look at this." Tony said, showing him the papers. "Yesterday I went to the house where Oliver was seen last. They collected blood samples and took them to the lab." Tony said, looking up at Stephen.

A bit of hope reflected off of Stephen's eyes.

"They don't match." Tony said, smiling. "It's not his blood."

"He's..." Stephen gulped. He didn't want to get his hopes up. "...alive?"

"Yes!" Tony said.

"Oh my god." Stephen sighed in relief, letting go of the teacup and putting his hands up to his mouth.

"He's alive Honey." Tony wrapped his arms around around Stephen. "He's alive."

"Hah..." Stephen sighed in relief. The biggest wave of relief washed over him. He embraced Tony back, laying his head on Tony's shoulder. "Thank god." He said In Tony's shoulder as tears ran down his cheeks.

"It's okay, Stephen." Tony reassured his husband. "It's okay." He rubbed his back, trying to comfort him.

Stephen's eyes shot open. He pulled away from Tony and took him by the shoulders. "Who the hell has my son?" He asked.

The Sorcerer Supreme of earth had been angered.

///0///0

"Daddy! Someone! Help!" Oliver yelped as he sat, locked in a room with his hands tied and a blindfold over his eyes.

"No one is coming to help you."

"Please let me go." Oliver cried. He was scared.

"Oh, no, no." Said the voice. "We don't have time for crying here."

"What do you want?" Oliver asked.

"Your daddy did something that was very wrong." Said the voice. "He betrayed the ways of the Mystic Arts, along with that filthy woman!"

There was a loud crash near Oliver.

He screamed.

"You remind me so much of him." Said the voice.

"Ah!" Oliver gasped when a hand took him by the face.

"I hate it." The voice said.

Something cold came in contact with Oliver's cheek, then it began to move down to his chin.

Oliver swallowed, feeling something sharp against his windpipe.

A knife.

"Let this be a warning to him. If he really wants to you, he'll come only to find you dead."

"He'll come!" Oliver said. "And he'll beat you!"

"He'll never find me. I threw them off my scent by presenting a friend of mine to them. Someone they already know. They should be busy for a few days, thinking they're after the right guy."

"They will, but I won't."

Oliver gasped when that voice rang in his ears.

It was Bucky.