Irondad Oneshots

The Ghost of Thanos

{This is really shitty sorry whoops. I wanted to write it differently but it didn't end up working out how I wanted to ugh}

Requested by: Aestheticatthedisco

Tony lets out a long sigh, watching through the one-way glass with tired eyes.

"Have we made any progress?" Tony asks, forcing himself to turn away.

Bruce looks even more tired than Tony does. "I'm not a psychologist, Tony. This isn't my forte. So no, I haven't made any progress. I'm trying, but this isn't rocket science. I know rocket science, I don't know the human brain."

"We can't just hire a regular psychologist, Bruce. You know that." Tony knows he shouldn't be angry with Bruce. It's not his fault. It's no one's fault.

Except for Thanos. 

Getting everyone back from the soul stone was a lot of work, but there weren't any casualties in doing so. Tony, Steve, Thor, Nebula, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint worked together to bring them back. They did it, but it wasn't so simple. 

Thanos had decided he liked Peter. He liked Peter's optimism and the genius brain he had plus the spider abilities.

The Avengers had to take him down. Peter was the one who did the last blow. And he took the brunt of psychological damage. 

Now, he can't leave the padded room they made for him in the tower. 

It's been two months, and still barely any progress from Bruce and Stephen. It's not their fault, they're not psychologists. Strange is a surgeon and Bruce is a physicist. It's not their fault they haven't been able to help Peter, but Tony is still angry regardless. Peter's not the same, probably won't ever be the same. 

"It's time for his lunch," Bruce says, brushing off Tony's anger. "You can bring it in if you want. He's been looking good all day."

 Tony sighs and nods stiffly, heading for the kitchen. 

The tray of food is already made up. A sandwich, a glass of water, a little chocolate milk carton, and a small bowl of cut up strawberries. 

Tony knocks before entering the room using the keys despite knowing how stupid it is. The room is soundproof for a reason. 

"Hey, kiddo. It's Tony," the billionaire starts, forcing a smile to the teenager who's curled up in the far corner of the room. "It's lunchtime. You wanna come over here and eat?"

Peter doesn't even acknowledge what Tony's saying, continuing to repeat the words he's been saying since Thanos died. 

"Time. Reality. Space. Mind. Power. Soul."

"Peter? Kiddie? Come eat your lunch. You must be hungry. You didn't eat breakfast or dinner," Tony continues, closing the door and sitting in front of it. The padding is soft and comfortable against his spine, but it reinforces the idea that Peter needs to be in here for his own wellbeing. 

"Time. Reality. Space. Mind. Power. Soul."

"Come here, Peter. It's lunchtime," Tony says more forcefully this time. 

"Time. Reality. Space. Mind. Power. Soul."

"Peter!" Tony says, raising his voice higher. He's barely said anything other than the names of the infinity stones since he killed Thanos. He's been coherent enough to listen a few times, but there was only one occasion where he actually spoke.

("I'm so proud of you, kiddo. I really am."

It was strained and shaking escaping Peter's unwilling throat. "Thank you.")