Spider-Man Whump

Post-Infinity War

     The penthouse of the Tower was packed fuller than it had been in years, but TOny had never felt so empty. There were voices in the rooms, discussions over plans, but Tony couldn't hear the one thing he wanted to. He wanted laughter. Chemistry puns. Randomly placed Star War references.

     He wanted Peter.

     But Peter was gone.

     Tony sat on the edge of Peter's bed, eyes roaming the familiar walls littered with Han Solo and Princess Leia posters. His eyes caught sight of a few Iron Man ones as well, curled around the edges from the years of being taped to different walls since Peter had been small.

     School books lay open on the floor, not one of them on the dark wood desk Tony had bought Peter. It was ridiculous. There was so much space to put the books on and instead the kid stored them on the floor, where they mixed up with the clothes strewn around, creating a minefield for Tony and his creaking joints and aching bones.

     The kid. He's been just a kid.

     "Boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke gently from the ceiling, "you're being requested in the meeting room."

     Tony nodded weakly and took one last glance at the room before standing up. There were no tears left to cry, not any more. He'd met a shortage of them a week ago. All that was left was a burn in his eyes and scratchy feeling in his throat.

     Tony walked slowly, too exhausted to move his legs faster. He was fine, physically. All his wounds from the battle on Titan had healed. But it was as if Peter's death was dragging him down, weighing on his shoulders and weaving guilt into his insides.

     Tony made it to the meeting room where the Avengers were seated around a table, all except for Steve who was standings at the head of the table, addressing everyone.

     "Good to have you here, Tony," Steve said with a small smile when the man walked into the room.

     "Yeah. Finally," Clint muttered. "Took your jolly time, didn't you?"

     Tony pulled out a chair without replying. The rest of the Avengers gave him looks of concern before turning to Steve to start.

     "It's been a month since the fight with Thanos," Steve began. "We lost then. But we'll fight again. We have to. So many people were dusted and we've all lost someone-"

     "Stark didn't." Heads turned to Clint who dropped his legs off the table where they had been resting. "Start lost nothing. He has his happy little family, all together. He's lost no one. Everyone's alive." Clint rose from his seat and marched to Tony and thrust his face inches from the man's. Steve took a step forward but no one intervened as Clint hissed:"So I'm wondering why the Hell he's acting like his world was turned upside down."

     A knife carved its way through Tony's heart, cutting deep into his thoughts as his mind flew to Peter's laughing face. A smile that he would only ever see in his memories. He raised his eyes to Clint's and spoke coolly. "My world wasn't turned upside down, Barton. The center of it collapsed. Into my arms. And turned to dust."

     "Yeah? What did you lose, huh?" Clint mocked. "An important client?"

     Tony steeled his gaze and stood up. "My son."

     Pushing down the lump that had risen in his throat, Tony turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving the shocked Avengers behind.

     He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so in need of a drink. He made a beeline to the bar at the end of the penthouse living room and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, then froze. He stared at the glass, stared at the reflection staring back. Black bags hung under his eyes, eyes which were tired and dead. Dead, like Peter. Tony's fist curled around the neck of the bottle and he popped the cork off and lifted the bottle. . . and stopped.