Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I love you, Pete." I kiss my son's head and ruffle his hair when he pulls away. 

"Love you too, Dad." He replies, trying to sound annoyed. I know he means it when he says he loves me though. He's a teenager, so he's bound to act embarrassed in this sort of situation. Especially when his friend is standing just outside the car.

"Have fun!" I tell Peter as he steps out of the car. I wait for him to get inside Ned's house before I drive away. 

Once I get back to the tower, I call out my husband's name, excited that we'll be alone for the night. We can finally have some... fun... without being interrupted. 

He calls out to me. "I'm in the kitchen, Tones!" I head to said location and am pleased to see him making pasta for our dinner. Specifically, Fettuccine Alfredo. My favorite.

He knows me so well. I love Steve. So much. I don't think I could ever love someone more than Steve (save for Peter, obviously). He is, without a doubt, one of the best parts of my life. His smile. His laugh. His hands and they way they caress my cheeks when we kiss. Everything about him makes my life more beautiful.

Steve is perfect.

"If you're trying to seduce me with food, it's working." I say with my arms crossed, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the kitchen. Steve looks back at me and chuckles. I saunter over with a smirk on my face and hug him from behind as he pours Alfredo sauce into the pasta, my chin resting on his shoulder with his back flush against my chest. 

"Well, I've been with you for ten years. I know exactly what makes your knees weak." We're now both smirking at the implications of Steve's sentence.

"Oh, really? Do you though?" I quirk an eyebrow and smooth my hands over his chest as he mixes the pasta and the sauce together. 

He finishes mixing the pasta and turns around in my hold so we're face-to-face, our chests flush against each other. He cups my face with his hands and brings our lips together so they're just barely touching. Our hot breaths mix together as he replies.

"I do. But if you need proof, I can provide that after dinner."

I growl and connect our lips viscously. My hands are on his hips and his are holding my face with care. Just as I'm about to deepen the kiss, my asshole of a husband pulls away.

"I said after dinner. I'm hungry." His tone is seductive, driving me crazy. I might just collapse right here and now. Steve has no right being so hot.

"You're hungry? What, my dick isn't tasty enough for you?" Steve sputters, blushing, not expecting me to be so blunt. I bark out a laugh at his reaction and drape my arms around his neck.

"Thank you for making dinner, Captain." I say once our laughter dies down in a softer, more genuine voice.

"You're very welcome, doll." 

We get to eating dinner and have a blissful time. I can't remember the last time we had a real date to be honest. We both love Peter so much, and we love eating dinner with him every day, don't get me wrong. However, lately the both of us have been quite busy with Avengers stuff, so any time in the past few months when Peter was out of the house, one or both of us had always been unavailable. 

Until today, that is. It's so nice to be able to spend some time with Steve with no distractions. I've missed him a lot recently. Although we've both been busy, he has been more busy than I have, so most of the time, it's me who's at home waiting for him. I decide to voice my thoughts.

"I've missed you." My hand is in his. He is fondly rubbing his thumb over my knuckles as we finish off our meals. I fruitlessly twirl my fork in my hand and look up at him under my eyelashes. 

He smiles at me somewhat sadly. "I know. I've missed you too. I hate that we've both been so busy."

"Well," I start. "You've been more busy than I have." I realize that may have been the wrong thing to say once I see Steve's face. He looks a bit hurt and I feel a pang of guilt in my chest. I don't know why I said it to be honest. I don't know why I'm picking a fight. God, I always say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing.

"I've been assigned to more missions than you have, Tony. You know that." Steve starts getting defensive, his voice increasing in volume. 

"Oh, so now I'm lazy because I haven't been working as much? We have a son, someone has to take care of him!" I match his volume and all of a sudden we're both standing across one another, shouting.

"I never said you were lazy, stop putting words in my mouth! And don't you dare imply that I don't take care of Peter. I may not be at home as much as you, but I still do my part." He jabs his index finger into the center of his chest to emphasize his point. "I go to every decathlon meet, every marching band performance, every robotics competition, just like you do! Don't you d-" I cut him off with a kiss, not wanting to fight right now.

I shouldn't have said that. I'm really shitty when handling and expressing my emotions sometimes. I've been more tired than usual lately, even when I get an acceptable amount of sleep, and I guess today, I took it out on Steve. 

I half-expect Steve to push me away after cutting him off, but to my surprise, he immediately starts kissing me back. He grabs hold of my hips and starts grinding up against me as I suck at his face with such ferocity that I'm almost certain his lips are going to be bruised tomorrow.

He then picks me up and takes us to our bedroom. My legs are wrapped securely around his waist as he carries me. I opt for kissing his neck on our way, just so he can see where we're going and we don't run into a wall... which has happened in the past... multiple times.

He lays me down on the bed and grinds against me for a few moments before pulling off his shirt. He recaptures my lips and we continue making out even as he rips my shirt into two. Pretty violently, may I add. I'm about to complain about my now ruined shirt when he breaks the kiss. But before I can speak, his lips connect with the side of my neck. And just like that, I'm speechless. 

Before he touches below my belt, he asks if it's alright to continue, his tone laced with untamed hunger. I just nod, desperately, because I've literally lost my ability to speak due to how skilled Steve is at dissolving me into a writhing mess.

After we have some anger-fueled fun, he collapses beside me. We're panting, trying to catch our breaths when Steve speaks up. "Is that proof enough for you?" 

I chuckle. "Hmmm, I don't know. Maybe you could show me some more 'proof' later tonight." He laughs in response and wraps his arms around my torso. I turn to him and cup his face in my hands. I look deep into his ocean blue eyes.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it. Any of it. You're amazing father to Peter and it's not your fault you have more missions than I do. I wasn't being fair to you. I'm really sorry, Stevie." My voice gets a little shaky towards the end of my sentence. I may act like I don't have emotions around most people, but it really upsets me when I fight with Steve or Peter. They're the best things in my life, and I hate having any sort of conflict with them. I especially hate when it's my fault that we're fighting, which in regards to Steve, it usually is. 

I'm honestly surprised how easily Steve forgives me whenever we fight. I'm surprised he hasn't gotten rid of me. Sometimes I'm scared he'll do just that, and toss me aside after I've fucked up. But whenever I apologize, he always treats me with compassion and empathy, even when I've said some really hurtful things. Maybe it's because he knows how Howard treated me, and that I'm trying to be better. I have a therapist now, and ever since I've started seeing her, I've gotten a lot better at communicating with Steve instead of just fighting.

But sometimes, I still slip up. Like today. 

"Thank you for apologizing, I forgive you." He interlocks my fingers in his, putting his hand over top of mine and kisses the inside of my wrist. He smiles warmly at me. I can't help but smile back. "Is there anything in particular that set you off today? You seemed okay when you came back from dropping Peter off."

I sigh, not wanting to worry Steve, but also not wanting to lie. I decide to just tell the truth. "I've just been really tired today, I guess I just took it out on you. God, I'm such an asshole. I'm sorry." I look away from him, feeling ashamed of myself. 

He frowns. "You are not an asshole. All couples fight sometimes and I know you're trying your best to get better at communicating." I nod. I still feel guilty, but Steve's words definitely make me feel better. "Why are you tired? Have you not been sleeping?"

"No," I sigh again, cuddling into my husband's chest. He adjusts his hold on me so my head is tucked under his chin. "It doesn't matter how much I sleep, I just seem to be tired all the time."

Steve pulls back a little to look at me. "Tony, that's not normal." The concern in his voice is evident. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. I hate that I'm troubling him. "How long has this been going on?"

"A few months." I admit quietly.

"A few months? Tony..." Steve hugs me tighter and I feel even guiltier for being the source of his concern. I'm not worth worrying over. "Why didn't you tell me? You could have some sort of vitamin deficiency or something, you need to see a doctor."

"It's not a big deal. I knew you were going to worry. You're kinda proving my point right now." I smirk, but it's not really genuine. 

"Of course I'm going to worry about you, Tony. You're the love of my life." Steve rubs his hand on my chest and around my ribs. I cup the side of his neck and latch our lips together. Our mouths dance and our hearts sing as we make out like horny teenagers. I feels so safe in his arms. I'll never get tired of the feeling.

Things start to get heated when Steve freezes on top on me, his hand pushing into my rib. We make eye contact. The panic in his gaze is disconcerting.

"What? What happened?" He looks down at his hand where his thumb is pushing into the front of my rib next to my arc reactor. 

"There's..." Steve gulps. "There's a... lump... in between your ribs." He takes my hand and replaces his fingers with my own. I can feel it, and my eyes widen. It's not huge, but it's not small either.

Fuck.

"Did you know about this?" Steve asks me, his voice trembling. 

"No, I didn't." I croak out. We stare at one another for a few moments, neither of us knowing what to say. I mean, what does anyone say in a situation like this?

"Steve..." My voice is strained with obvious panic. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to do. 

We both know what this could mean.

"Oh god." I whisper. "What if it's-" Steve shushes me before I can finish my sentence.

Steve's eyes are glassy, but I don't point it out. He turns me on my side and spoons me, intertwining our legs, kissing the back of my ear and hugging me tightly. "It's okay, Tony, it's okay. I'm here. We're going to figure it out."

Steve and I fall asleep in each other's arms, clinging to one another as if our lives are on the line.

I try not to think about how, for myself, that might be true.

Chapter Text

I pick at the callouses on my hands as Steve and I ride down to the Medbay via the elevator. Before my hands start bleeding, I move on to aggressively scratching at my forearms. I don't think I'm hiding my anxiety very well. 

Steve notices the way I'm religiously clawing at myself and takes my hands in his. He kisses the palms of both of my hands as I try to keep calm. This is already incredibly nerve racking and I'm not even inside the Medbay yet. 

"Hey, Tony." He coos softly. "Look at me, Doll." I meet his gaze, biting at my lip. Steve brushes his thumb over my cheekbone and plants a kiss there. "Everything is going to be okay. We don't even know if it's actually a tumor or not. And if it is, that doesn't automatically mean it's cancer."

I sigh and lean against him, tucking my face into the crook of his neck. He intertwines his fingers with my hair using one hand, and uses the other to rub my back. "What are we going to tell Peter?" I ask as I snake my arms around his middle.

Now it's Steve's turn to sigh. It's currently ten in the morning, and Peter's going to be back home around noon. So we'll know whether it's a tumor or not by the time he gets back. Which means we'll have to tell Peter about it.

Neither of us are looking forward to that. 

"We tell him the truth. We can't leave him in the dark with this. He's old enough to understand what's going on. We'll sugarcoat what we can but still be honest about what's going on." Steve kisses my temple, his lips lingering there until the elevator doors open. 

Steve called Bruce for me this morning to set up and appointment with him. I would've done it myself, but I... I just couldn't. Saying that the reason I needed an appointment was because of a lump I have in my chest that could potentially be cancer... even the notion of that is too much. Saying it makes it real. I don't want it to be real.

"Tony, Steve." Bruce looks up at us, smiling. I appreciate the lack of pity in Bruce's expression. I hate being pitied. "It's good to see you guys. If you'll follow me, I've already got a room set up." Steve intertwines my hand with his as we walk to the room.

Bruce pushes open the curtain revealing a gurney with an ultrasound machine sitting to the left of it. On the right is an IV pole, with a saline bag attached to it.

I hate this already.

"Why don't you lie down, Tony?" Bruce pats the bed as he sits on the rolling stool next to the ultrasound machine. 

I look at Steve, then Bruce, then Steve again, then Bruce again. "Yeah, okay." I lay down on the bed as Steve pulls up a chair and sits opposite of Bruce. Steve grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling uncomfortable with being completely horizontal whilst everyone else is sitting upright. 

I'm usually always the one with the power in any given room. But right now I feel so vulnerable. Saying that I don't like it is a complete and utter understatement.

"Can you move the head of the bed up?" I don't even have to offer an explanation as to why before Bruce is doing exactly what I asked. 

"So, Tony, can you tell me what's going on? Steve told me you have a bump on your chest, is that right?" 

I nod. "Yeah, we found it last night. It's in between two of my ribs."

Bruce nods along as I speak. "Okay, and have you had any pain surrounding the bump?" 

"Yeah, a little, actually. I didn't know it was there until yesterday though, so I thought it was nothing. Sometimes the arc reactor makes my chest a little sore, so I assumed it was that."

"Alright, and have you had any other symptoms that you can think of in the past couple of months? Anything out of the ordinary that you've been experiencing?"

I go to shake my head, but as I do so, Steve speaks up. "He told me yesterday that he's been feeling more tired than usual lately. Does that count?"

"That does count, yes." I can't help but notice something flash over Bruce's expression as Steve mentions the fatigue I've been experiencing. "Have you lost weight recently without trying to?"

My anxiety increases at that question, because I have lost weight recently. I feel like it's bad that I'm answering yes to these questions. That must mean something's wrong, right? "Yeah... I don't know how much, but I have noticed my ribs protruding a little."

Steve seconds my observation. "I noticed that too, actually." I can see the guilt on Steve's face and it makes me want to cry. I know he's probably blaming himself for not doing something about it. He usually refrains from commenting on my body at all. He knows I have some body image issues due to the arc reactor, which is probably why he didn't point it out. I squeeze his hand and shake my head at him, silently telling him not to blame himself. He sends me a shaky smile and I turn to Bruce.

"Is that bad? The fatigue and the weight loss?" I think Bruce can sense the panic I'm feeling, because he's quick to reassure.

"Well, it's not ideal, but let's not jump to conclusions, alright? If I find something alarming, you two will be the first to know. I promise." Steve and I nod and Bruce continues asking other miscellaneous questions about my health. His questions make me even more anxious. The only reason I don't have a fucking panic attack is because of Steve. The entire time he holds my hand, squeezing it every couple of seconds. The pressure keeps me grounded, and I am so goddamn grateful to have such an intuitive husband.

After that, it's time for the ultrasound.

"Can you take your shirt off, Tones?" Under different circumstances, maybe I would make a suggestive joke in response. But at the moment, I'm not in the mood. 

Once my shirt is off, Bruce asks me to point to where the bump is. I do exactly that and Bruce palpates the area. I try to read Bruce's expression, but the asshole is weirdly good at keeping his face neutral considering that he's known for having massive anger issues.

"Alright, let's go ahead and do the ultrasound now." He picks up a bottle that kind of looks like a condiment bottle if I'm honest. "This is just some gel that I'm going to put on your chest for the ultrasound. It's probably going to be a little cold." The gel squirts out of the bottle and onto my chest. It has a blue tint, I notice. A shiver crawls down my spine, but it's not from the gel.

Bruce picks up the ultrasound probe next and uses it to spread the gel around a little. He turns on the machine and a picture shows up on the screen. Steve and I both stare intently at the screen, but seeing as neither of us know how to read an ultrasound, we just get more anxious. I know it's a cliche, but the tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Bruce stays quiet the entire time, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration at the screen. Needless to say, the silence doesn't do shit for our nerves.

It feels like an eternity before Bruce is done looking at whatever's in my chest. He uses a blue towel to clean off the ultrasound probe and then hands the towel to me. I use the towel to wipe the excess gel off of my chest. Bruce sets the probe aside and turns the machine off with a click. Steve and I both look to the doctor expectantly. 

"Well?" Steve voices his impatience, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just as impatient, if not more. The suspense really is killing me. My life feels like a movie right now. It's kind of weird. I mean, there have been many other events in my life that are comparable to what happens in movies, but this is the first time that it's actually felt  as such in the moment. That probably doesn't make any sense. Whatever. 

"I'm going to give it to you straight." I suck in a breath to brace myself and Steve squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. My hands are trembling, but I ignore it. "I'm pretty confident that it's a tumor." My heart stops right then and there. Fucking hell. "Before I say anything else, I want to emphasize that this doesn't mean you have cancer. Most tumors are not cancerous, so there's a big chance that it's not cancer. But unfortunately, there is still a possibility of cancer, so I would like to do a couple of more tests to investigate that. I want to do a blood test which could possibly tell us if the tumor is cancerous or not without having to take it out first, and I'd like to do an x-ray and an MRI to get a better picture of the actual size of the tumor and what parts of your chest it's attached to. Unfortunately, an ultrasound can only show so much."

I squeeze Steve's hand when Bruce mentions taking out the tumor. That would mean surgery. I'm not a big fan of surgery, considering the last surgery I had resulted in a car battery being attached to my chest. I want to ask Bruce more about this, but the words are trapped in the back of my throat. 

Luckily, Steve seems to already know what I want to ask. "You said, take it out... does that mean he'll have to get surgery to take it out if it's cancer?"

"Well, considering that it is a tumor, we will probably have to take it out at some point, regardless of whether it's cancer. But that all depends on how fast it's growing, or if it's even growing at all. I can't say anything for sure until I get the results of the tests back. I don't have enough information right now to answer that. I'm sorry, I wish I had more I could tell you, but we're just going to have to wait until the results come back."

"How long will that take?" I choke out, finally able to speak for myself.

"A couple of days at least." Great, more waiting. Steve and I share a look, and I can't help but feel defeated at the moment. I feel so helpless. I'm Iron Man, and yet, in this situation, I'm completely powerless. 

This sucks ass.

Bruce takes my blood and does the X-ray and MRI before I leave the Medbay. The blood test and X-ray are quick, but the MRI takes much longer. It's also much more uncomfortable. The whole thing takes about half an hour, but it feels it takes two. The MRI is also very loud, which I don't appreciate in the slightest.

We get back up to the penthouse ten minutes before Peter gets back home. Steve and I discuss what we’re going to say and who’s going to say what, and how we’re going to bring it up. 

I never thought I’d have to have a conversation like this with my son. Or anyone, for that matter. 

God, I'll have to tell May too. May worries about me too much. She's my big sister, so it makes sense, but I hate worrying her. I hate worrying my family in general. 

“Do you want me to tell him? I can do it if you want.” I shake my head.

”I’ll do it. It needs to be me. I owe that to him.” Steve nods and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I snuggle into his side and he turns on the TV. We watch Breaking Bad as we wait for Peter to come home.

“I'm back!” Peter greets cheerfully as he walks in from the elevator. Steve and I plaster on a smile for him.

”Hey, Bear! How was your slumber party at Ned’s?” Steve speaks for me, which I greatly appreciate. 

Peter scoffs. I smile. He’s always had my sass. “No one says slumber party anymore, Papa.”

”You saying I’m old?” He quirks an eyebrow up at Peter as I watch their interaction amusedly. 

Peter smirks. “Your words, not mine.” I chuckle and Peter continues. "To answer your question, yeah, it was good. We stayed up till like 3:00 in the morning and then Ned's mom made us waffles."

"Did you thank Ned's mother for driving you home?" I ask. I already know the answer, I just ask to annoy him. 

And just like I expect, Peter rolls his eyes at me in light-hearted annoyance. "Yesssss I didddddd. I have manners, y'know."

Steve and I share a look and our smiles start to diminish when we remember the tumor. It occurs to me how weird it is that a clump of cells in my chest can affect mine and my family's life so much. It's weird how much power it hold over me. 

I think back to when I was dying from palladium poisoning and... okay I was with it. I mean, I obviously didn't want to die, but at the time, I didn't really have anyone. Steve and I weren't dating and since we weren't together, Peter wasn't in my life either. At that time, he was just two years old in foster care. It wasn't until a year after that, that I met Steve. The year after that we got married and adopted Peter. I had May, but she was out and about living her own life. But once Peter and Steve came into my life, I finally felt like my life was truly worth living. 

Maybe that's why this is so much scarier. The notion of leaving my husband and son behind is more than enough to make me panic.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts when Steve opens his mouth. "Pete, why don't you come sit with us?" Steve's voice is a little shaky, despite his bright tone. It seems like Peter doesn't notice this.

"Okay!" Steve and I scoot apart so Peter can fit between us. "You guys are watching Breaking Bad again? I swear, you two have watched this at least a hundred times."

I laugh. "I could say the same thing about you and Grey's Anatomy." 

Peter looks up at the ceiling sheepishly. I can't help but think about how adorable he looks. "Well, my obsession with Grey's Anatomy is arguably reasonable considering how goddamn HOT Patrick Dempsey is." I easily agree with him, because Patrick Dempsey is pretty hot. 

Peter came out to Steve and I as pansexual a couple of months ago, and ever since then, he's been openly talking about his crushes of all genders, which I'm incredibly proud of him for. If there's anything I want him to have learned from Steve and I, it's to be unapologetically himself. I'm glad he feels comfortable enough to be his true self around us and to tell us those sort of things. 

When I was growing up, I could never be myself around my father. I was always scared around him. Scared to get yelled at. Scared to be hit. I mess up sometimes with Peter, but I'm beyond grateful that I haven't messed up so much that he's afraid of me. 

We go about the rest of our day just relaxing together as a family. It's really nice. We haven't done this in a while. Steve sneaks glances towards me, trying to silently tell me to bring up the tumor. I don't. I can't. Not yet. 

We end up eating the left over fettuccine alfredo from last night for lunch and order pizza for dinner. Peter falls asleep against my shoulder shortly after dinner. 

"Petey? You awake, Kid?" He doesn't respond, indicating that he is out like a light. With that, I bury my face in Peter's curls. His hair smells like lavender, as always. 

I hear Steve sigh and I don't need to be a genius to know what he's going to say. "Tony, why didn't you bring it up? We were supposed to tell him today. He needs to know." Steve is sitting on the other side of Peter, so I don't have to turn my head to meet his eyes for a brief second before shifting my gaze back at Peter. I push his fluffy brown curls back and away from his forehead, placing a kiss there.

He looks so adorably peaceful when he sleeps. The way his eyelashes rest on his cheeks and the way his lips purse when he's dreaming is so endearing. 

I look back up at Steve as I run my hand through our child's hair.

"I don't want to worry him. We don't even know if it's cancer yet, we'd just be making him worry when there might not be anything to worry about. You heard Bruce. He said it could be nothing."

Steve sighs and places his hand on my thigh. "Tony, we can't keep this from him, he needs to know." Steve speaks gently, his expression soft and filled with concern and empathy.

"I'm not saying to never tell him about it. I just... I want to wait at least until Bruce can tell us more about what this tumor even means. All we know right now is that it's a tumor. We don't have any other information besides that. When we tell him, I want to be able to have some other information to give him. I don't know about you, but having such vague knowledge, to me, feels worse than not knowing about the tumor at all."

Steve's eyes flicker between my face and Peter's sleeping figure. "Yeah. I think you're right."

"When am I not?" I smirk, and Steve smiles at me sadly. I can tell the worry is starting to consume him.

"Hey, Stevie. Look at me." He obeys and I move my hand from Peter's hair to Steve's cheek. "We're going to figure this out." He grabs my wrist and smoothes his thumb over my skin.

He nods in agreement and snuggles closer to me with Peter sandwiched between us. "Yeah, we'll figure it out." 

Chapter Text

It's been almost a week since we found out. Steve and I have both been wildly impatient. Bruce had to send the tests to a different doctor to review, since it's not in his specialty to read x-rays or MRIs or perform blood tests, which is why it's taking a while.

Peter's at Ned's house again. It's approximately one in the afternoon. Bruce called us a few minutes ago saying that he had the results of the testing. Steve and I wanted to hear the news in person rather than over the phone, so he's headed up to the penthouse right now.

Steve holds both my hands in his own as we lean against the kitchen island. We stand there in silent, tense anticipation. I flinch when the elevators ding, feeling on edge.

"Bruce, thanks for coming." Steve greets. 

"Of course." The way he smiles back makes my stomach churn. Something's wrong

Bruce has bought a couple of papers with him, which my gaze is now focused on. Bruce notices this. "These are the written reports of your results. I thought it might be helpful if I showed you the reports as I explain everything."

"Before you go over the reports, can you first tell us whether it's cancer or not? I can't take any more waiting." I'm practically vibrating with anxiety.

Bruce nods. "Sure." He sighs and Steve places a kiss to my temple.

We both look directly at Bruce and brace ourselves. "Everything that came back on the test results indicates that the tumor is more than likely cancerous." I freeze. My mind goes blank. 

Cancer.

Cancercancercancercancercancercancercancer.

"Wait, but-" Steve gulps and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I'm slumped against the island with my head in my hands, feeling numb. "So how do you know?"

"Well, first of all, the way that the tumor looks on the x-ray and MRI is consistent with a type of cancer called Ewing Sarcoma. The location is also consistent with Ewing's. Ewing Sarcoma is usually found on the bones in the ribs or in the long bones. Normally, we don't see this type of cancer in adults, but it can happen. 

"Also," Bruce holds out a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers on it. I look up and recognize it as the results to a blood test. My blood test. "Your lactate dehydrogenase levels, or LDH, which indicates that there's damage to your bodily tissues, is elevated. The fact that it's elevated, combined with the imaging and the symptoms of weight loss and fatigue that you told me about... all of that points to cancer."

All of us are silent for some time. I'm not sure how long. Steve hugs me to his chest with one arm whilst using the other to hold himself up against the counter. I stare ahead blankly. Bruce is looking down at his hands. The pain on his face is evident. The rest of the Avengers call Bruce and I "The Science Bros" because of how close we are. This has got to be hard for him too.

"What do we do now? Do I do chemo or something?" 

"Well, that's sort of up to you. Fortunately, the tumor is operable. The cancer hasn't metastasized to any other parts of your body, so we could remove the tumor without chemo, and you wouldn't have to do any treatment after that. 

"But taking out this tumor is on the risky side. It's pretty close to your heart, which means there's around a 50% chance that your heart could stop during surgery, or that you could start bleeding. So instead, I recommend doing a round of chemo to start with. The chemo should shrink the tumor enough to mitigate the risk a decent amount. Taking out the tumor would be a lot safer that way."

"Should?" Steve questions, wiping away the tear that escapes his eye. 

"Unfortunately, I can't guarantee that the chemo will shrink the tumor. Most of the time, it does its job, but there are times where the cancer doesn't respond to chemo..." Bruce says some other stuff after that. Steve is listening to him, intently nodding along, but I'm not. Instead, I stare at Steve trying to memorize every detail of his face.

The crook in his nose. The pink of his lips. The blue of his eyes. The wrinkles on his forehead. 

I try to memorize everything about him, because I may not get to admire him for much longer.

"What if I refuse the surgery? Then what would happen?" I interrupt Bruce. Steve snaps his head over to me, looking at me as if I've grown another head. "How long would it take for it to kill me?" I know it sounds like a bizarre question to ask, but if there's no guarantee that the chemo will work, and the surgery could very likely kill me if I don't do chemo? Well, it's hard to want to put myself through that. If I last a couple of years before the cancer kills me, then I'd rather spend that time outside of a hospital room instead of inside one without a guarantee of being cured.

Bruce looks taken aback. He takes a second before answering, looking at me with intense concern. "Considering that it's stage II, I would say about a year to two. But, Tony, I would highly advise doing the treatment. With chemo, you have very, very good odds at surviving the surgery." Bruce practically begs me, and I decide that I should try. If not for myself, then for Peter and Steve. For my sister, May. For my friends. I have to be brave for them.

"Okay." I say looking up at the other two men.

"Okay?" Steve's tone is hopeful at my response.

"Okay. I'll do the chemo. When do we start?"

~

I invite May over to my place before Peter comes home to tell her what’s going on. Steve is on the phone in the kitchen as I tell her, requesting a few months off of missions whilst I’m getting treatments. 

May reacts exactly how I expected she would. 

“Tones … oh, Baby.” Her eyes shine with tears and she pulls me into her embrace. It’s then that I break down. She pets my hair and rubs my back as I sob into the crook of her neck. 

“I’m scared, May.”

We both grip tighter onto onto each other. “I know, Tony. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here.” She pulls back to wipe away my tears. I can't help but notice the way her voice trembles and the way tears silently run down her face. She smiles sadly at me for a moment and I return the gesture. She soon pulls me back into her arms and we relish in each other's comfort for just a bit longer.

She murmurs into my ear over and over again, saying things along the lines of: "It's okay, it's all going to be okay.". 

I don't know if I believe her.

~

A couple of hours later Peter gets back from Ned's house. We wait until after dinner is over to break the news. Some people are stress eaters, but Peter is the exact opposite and usually avoids eating when he's stressed. Needless to say, this is certainly bound to overwhelm him and we didn't want him to go to sleep hungry.

Steve and I have just finished washing the dishes and Peter's sitting on the kitchen island, swinging his legs back and forth, texting, when we decide to bring it up. "Hey, Pete? We need to talk to you about something."

Peter looks up at us and frowns, slowly putting his phone down. His eyes are narrowed at us, sensing there's something going on. Oh, how I wish he was wrong. "Okayyyyyy... am I in trouble? If this is about my search history, I promise it's not what it looks-"

Steve cuts him off. "Your search history? What's in your search his-"

I cut Steve off this time. "No, you are not in trouble, Peter. We just uh- we have to tell you something." I say, clearly nervous. Peter picks up on this and his demeanor instantly changes to that of concern.

"What's... going on?" Before I answer I take Peter's hand, and Steve wraps an arm around our son's shoulders. 

"So, um..." I'm hesitating. This isn't easy to say. I look past Peter and connect my gaze with Steve's. He gives a reassuring nod, silently telling me what I need to hear. "Last week, Papa and I found a bump on my chest." Peter freezes. I'm tempted to just stop talking and hug him tightly, but I need to get this over with. Peter needs to know. He deserves to know. 

"I went to Uncle Bruce, and he ran some tests. Well, um... he told us what the results were this afternoon while you were at Ned's." I take a deep breath and brace myself. Peter's life won't be the same after I say what I'm about to say. I hate this so fucking much. "He said that I have cancer. It's called Ewing Sarcoma, it's a type of bone cancer. I have a tumor attached to my ribs, next to my heart. I'll have to start chemo in about a week, and then after I finish chemo I'll need to have a surgery to take the tumor out." 

I expect Peter to cry, shout, or do something of that sort. But what I don't expect is for him to bark out a laugh. He practically doubles over in laughter, in fact. I look at Steve, confused. He seems to share what I'm feeling and we look at Peter with concern.

"That's a good joke, Dad." He wipes at his eyes, which are wet from laughter. "That's what that was, right? That was a joke, wasn't it?" Peter tone is bordering on hysteric as he looks for confirmation that it was in fact a joke.

God, I really, really wish it was. 

"Peter..." My expression is somber as I place my free hand on Peter's cheek. A tear falls from his eye - this time it's one of distress - and I swipe it away with the pad of my thumb. Normally, he would lean into the touch, but he just sits there and stares at me in denial. "It's not a joke, Kiddo. I'm sorry." 

He stares at me in silence for I don’t know how long. I’m not surprised when his almost eerie stillness morphs into practically a full on breakdown.

"No no no no no no…" Shaking his head furiously, his tears flying off his face, Peter swats my hand away. I feel a pang in my chest when he does so, but I try not to take it to heart. He's not actually mad at me. He's just upset. Overwhelmed.

"Pete-" I start, but he cuts me off.

"This isn't real! THIS ISN'T REAL!" He shouts, pulling at his hair. This is a habit that Peter has had since he was a little boy. He picked it up at one of his foster homes. I'm still not really sure why he does it, but I am sure that it's not healthy. He's gotten better at doing other things to release his emotions, but sometimes he goes back to pulling his hair. Old habits die hard, I guess.

I take hold of his wrists as Steve rubs Peter's back soothingly. "Peter, Buddy. You gotta let go, you're going to hurt yourself." He doesn't listen, so I end up having to use force to pry his fingers apart. He resists at first, but relents a few moments later, letting out a sob. 

A tear silently escapes my eye at the sight of seeing my boy cry. I look at Steve, and he's crying too. 

I hate that I'm the reason for all of this. This is my fault.

"I'm sorry." I say, my voice cracking with emotion. I envelop Peter in my embrace, and he immediately and desperately latches onto me. He clutches the back of my shirt and cries into my chest. I thread my fingers and nuzzle my face into his chocolate brown curls, holding him tight against me. Steve moves to hug both Peter an I to his chest and we both try to calm our boy down.

"Dad..." Peter whimpers against my chest, sounding so much younger than he actually is. I swallow down the lump in my throat.

"I know, Kid. I know." I press my lips to his hair. Steve follows suit, the two of us trying to comfort him. 

"Don't leave me, Dad. Please, don't leave me!"

I sniffle as more tears quietly make their way down my face. I hold him even tighter. "I'm here, Baby. I'm right here."

"Please, Dad. I need you." The boy in my arms sounds so defeated and I wish I could fix it. I wish I could take all his pain for myself so he wouldn't have to feel it.

I pull back and hold Peter's face in my hands. He looks at me with his brown little doe eyes. But instead of being filled with joy and love like they normally are, they're red-rimmed and puffy and overflowing with tears of anguish and sorrow. My heart shatters at the sight. 

"Petey, we're going to figure this out, okay?" His lip quivers.

"Dad's right, Kiddo." Steve speaks up and wraps us both in his embrace. "We'll figure this out. Together.

Chapter Text

Today is my first day of chemotherapy. Steve and Peter sit on either side of me while we wait for Bruce to get the supplies to start my IV. We're all in our own arm chairs that Bruce set up for us in the Medbay. Mine is reclined, but Steve's and Peter's aren't.

Bruce removed all the other unnecessary medical equipment from this specific room and added some paintings to the walls in addition to some other homely-looking decorations like a coffee table and accent rug. When Bruce told me he decorated a room for me, I thought it was going to be pointless. But now that I'm actually here and about to do my first ever session of chemo, I'm sort of glad he put in the effort. I may not admit it out loud, but it eases my nerves. 

"Do you need another blanket, Dad? I can go get one." I chuckle and shake my head.

"I'm alright, Kid. One is enough." Ever since I told Peter about the cancer, he's been acting a bit clingy. Not that I mind, but it worries me. He used to act clingy like this when Steve and I first adopted him, because when he was in the system, he was constantly moved around from home to home. He was afraid of losing us, because he constantly lost everyone else he got close to.

"What should we get for lunch?" Steve asks as he intertwines our fingers. We smile at each other. I raise his hand to my lips and press a kiss on the back of it. He smells like lavender and chamomile, as always. 

"I don't know... Petey, got any suggestions?" We both look towards our son expectantly. He looks up at the ceiling in thought. God, my son is adorable. He may be 14 now, but he's just as cute as he was the day we adopted him.

"Uhm... Chipotle? We haven't had it in a while." 

I look at Steve. "What do you think, Papa Bear?" Steve nods. 

"Sounds good to me, Daddy Bear." He leans over and pecks me on the cheek. I smile contentedly.

Our moment is interrupted by a gag in the background. We turn to Peter who looks at us in mock disgust. "You two and your PDA." Peter shakes his head at us.

"You and your sass." Peter pouts and picks up the book he brought with him. Solitaire by Alice Oseman. He started reading it a couple days ago. Maybe I should read it to pass time during chemo.

Peter doesn't even finish reading a full page before Bruce comes in with his supplies. "Alright," Bruce sits down on his rolling stool, scooting closer to us. "Before we get started, we have to talk about the risks of chemo. I know you already signed the waiver but I just want to make sure that you know exactly what to expect." At this, Peter puts down his book, not bothering to mark the page. Steve leans forwards in his chair and we all listen intently to what Bruce has to say.

"For starters, you probably already know that you'll have hair loss. For some people it takes a month or two for their hair to start falling out, and for other people it only takes a few weeks. Your first round of chemo, which will hopefully be the only one, is going to last eight weeks. So there's a chance that you won't lose much hair at all, but it's more than likely that you will.

"There are other side effects as well. The most common side effects include being extra tired, nausea and vomiting, loss of appetite, and easy bruising and bleeding. Chemo weakens your immune system, so you'll also be more prone to developing infections. You can also get dry skin and rashes. You may also get achy muscles and get nerve pain in your legs and arms. Problems with memory, concentration, and sleep are also pretty common." 

As he lists the side effects, I start to feel anxious. Yeah, I signed the waiver, but no one actually reads waivers. I'm not going to back out now, but it's still nerve-wracking.

"Oh, is that all?" I huff out a sarcastic, pathetic sounding laugh. It's not really what one might actually deem to be a laugh. I'm still counting it as a laugh though, despite the fact that it's not really that genuine. Steve looks at me with concern. He reaches up and run a hand through my hair. Steve does that a lot and it suddenly occurs to me that he's going to miss my hair probably just as much as I will when it's gone.

Peter's looking towards me with concern as well, but I can tell there's also fear intertwined in there too. I take his hand and smile at him reassuringly. I hope this isn't scaring him too much. 

"Do any of you have any questions?" Bruce looks at the three of us. Steve and I shake our heads but Peter doesn't answer. Bruce frowns at my boy. 

"Peter, did you have a question?" The child's head snaps up to meet Bruce's gaze. He looks at me and then looks back at Bruce.

I notice him hesitate. "Is... is he going to be okay? This all sounds kind of dangerous." Bruce's expression softens.

"I know this sounds like a lot, and I'm sure this must be very overwhelming for you. But I can assure you that this is the best option to kick your dad's cancer to the curb. If things go to according to plan, your dad will be cancer free in the next six months."

"Are you sure?" Peter asks quietly. I frown as I rub his back comfortingly. 

Bruce continues with more reassuring words. "Yes, I am. Peter, your dad is so strong. The strongest person I know. If he can beat aliens and evil robots, I'm very confident that he can beat this too. Right, Tony?"

I kiss my son's forehead. "Bruce's right, Buddy. I promise you, I'm going to fight as hard as I can."

~

I have just finished my third session of chemo. I've been feeling a lot of the side effects the Bruce had mentioned. The fatigue has gotten worse, my appetite has gone to shit, and my skin is constantly dry and cracked. My body hurts quite a bit - especially my legs - and I'm having a hard time remembering things. It's like when you walk into a room just to forget what you were doing there. Except for me, that's been happening multiple times every day in many other situations. It has gotten ridiculously frustrating. Apparently, it is called chemo brain. For some reason, that name infuriates me. I don't know why.

Unfortunately, my hair started falling out after last week's chemo session. That's when Peter suggested I get a buzzcut. "You would look so good in a buzz cut, Dad!" 

I didn't think so when he suggested it, but I still did it. It seemed like it would make him happy. Peter and Steve took turns using the electric clipper to shave off chunks of my hair until there was just a few centimeters left. I'll admit, I actually sort of like it. Don't get me wrong, I still prefer having my hair, but this isn't half bad either.

Peter and Steve have both been so supportive. And May too. She's a nurse, so she has pretty demanding hours sometimes, but she tries to make it to my chemo sessions when she can, even if it's just for twenty minutes. I'm so incredibly lucky to have them. I make sure not to share too much with Peter when he asks me how I'm feeling, because some of the things that I experience would surely scare him.

For example, right now. Steve is rubbing my back as I heave violently into the toilet in our bathroom at 2 a.m. I grasp the toilet seat desperately, my chest burning from the stomach acid and bile that's making it's way up my esophagus. 

I genuinely don't understand how my body can keep making me throw up even when I don't eat. I didn't eat much this evening due to my practically non-existent appetite. Steve made my favorite, Fettuccine Alfredo, in hopes that I would eat a decent amount. Despite this, I could only get a few bites in. 

Is two bites really too much for my stomach now? They weren't even big bites either. Hell, they weren't even regular sized. 

And yet, here I am. 

Once I finally stop gagging and heaving, I lean back against my husband's chest. He presses a kiss to my temple and smoothes his hand over the stubble that has now replaced my fluffy brown locks. Tears silently travel down my face, forged from a combination of exhaustion and distress.

"Steve, I can't keep doing this." This is the 5th day in a row that I've thrown up everything that I've eaten. "It hurts so-" I don't even finish my sentence before my body decides that it's necessary for me to hack up a fucking lung. Can't I get a break?

Steve starts rubbing my chest as I cough. I find it more helpful than him rubbing my back for some reason. He murmurs sweet nothings in my ear as he tries to placate my discomfort. I don't know how long my coughing fit lasts. What I do know, is that it feels like an eternity before it's over. 

Once my coughing withers down into labored breaths, Steve speaks in my ear softly, but not quite in as quietly as he did before. "How about we talk to Bruce tomorrow and see if there's something he can do about the vomiting?"

I don't want to risk starting another coughing fit so I opt for nodding against the crook of his neck.

Steve helps me up so we can get back to bed, but as soon I get to my feet I collapse back onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor. My feet hurt so much, I just can't do it. My husband, being the angel that he is, carries me back to our bed.

I snuggle against his chest in a futile attempt to get some sleep.

~

Session 6. I just have two more after this one and I'll be done.

Which means I have two weeks to prepare myself for surgery. 

If I'm being honest... I'm scared. Which is why I'm spending as much time with Steve and Peter as I can. I practically spend every waking moment with them. I've even started staying with Peter as he falls asleep every night. I can't bear to be away from them. Of course, I still let Peter go out if he wants to, but I'm restless when he does. Luckily, he's been spending more time with me and has been keeping his outings to a minimum. I think it's because he's anxious too.

Actually I know it's because he's anxious, because he's told me that he's been anxious about the surgery on multiple occasions. Despite my own fears and anxieties about it, I always make sure to ease his mind and tell him that everything will be okay. 

I mean, the odds are, that everything will be okay. But I just can't help but think that it won't. I just... I have a feeling. I know that sounds dumb, but I just feel so strongly that something will go horribly wrong.

But as Peter puts down his card, making it so I have to grab 4 more cards, I push that thought aside. "Oh come on!" I say, but there's no real heat in my words. The three of us are playing Uno as I receive this week's dose of chemo. Peter came up with the idea to play games during my chemo sessions at the end of the first, and I agreed with the idea immediately. Last week, we played The Game of Life, and next week we'll play Monopoly and/or Connect Four.

"That's what you get for being old. I actually know how to play this game." Peter sticks his tongue out at me. Steve and I both chuckle. I admire the joy on my child's face as he starts to laugh too.

I'm going to miss that face.

Our game of Uno is interrupted when Bruce walks in. "Alright, time's up!" He disconnects my IV as Peter puts the cards back in their box. 

Later that night, Peter, Steve and I, go to dinner with May, Nat, Thor, Bruce, and Clint. Thor is going to bring his girlfriend Jane and Clint will bring his kids and wife. I'm not worried about having a vomiting episode since Bruce was able to get me some nausea medication so I can keep my food down.

As I get ready for the dinner, putting on one of my Tom Ford suits, I start to feel self-conscious. Ever since I started chemo, I've been looking pretty sickly. My eyes are sunken in, my skin is so pale that I sort of look like a corpse, I've lost weight even more weight, and of course, my lack of hair.

I look at myself in the mirror, disgusted, when Steve walks by. He sees the look on my face. "Tony? What happened?" He puts a hand on my back but I step away. He looks hurt and I instantly feel a pang of guilt settle in my chest.

"I'm sorry, I just- I feel so disgusting. Look at me. I'm so fucking ugly." I spit out with distaste. Steve shakes his head in disagreement, hugging me from behind, and now we're both facing the mirror. He speaks softly into my ear his words dripping with reassurance.

"You are not ugly. You are not disgusting." He kisses my temple. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see the most beautiful, handsome man in the world. What you see as ugly isn't ugly. It's the physical embodiment of your strength. Tony, you are so, so strong for fighting this. You knew how this could affect you, but you went for it anyways to be here for Peter. To be here for me. If that isn't strength, I don't know what is." 

I say nothing at this. Instead, I turn around to kiss him fiercely. He kisses me back with such passion that I forget about everything else in the world for a few moments. For those moments, only him and I exist, and nothing else matters in the world.

And shit, it's an amazing feeling.

~

Tomorrow is my last day of chemo. Steve, Peter and I are watching Star Wars because why not? Throughout the movie, we make commentary (courtesy of Peter, for the most part), eat popcorn, cuddle, and laugh. It's so relaxing and even though my legs feel like they're on fire, I'm having a great time. 

My boys are so fucking perfect, I think as I watch them giggle and snicker.

Towards the end of the movie I realize that I haven't used the bathroom since the afternoon. That's probably TMI, but whatever. For the past couple of weeks, I've had a hard time remembering to use the bathroom. My body just like, doesn't tell me that I need to anymore, so I just forget to go. Bruce said this could be because of the same type of nerve damage that causes the pain in my legs and arms, and that my nerves will heal themselves after I finish chemo. 

Doesn't change the fact that this sucks. 

"I'll be right back, I'm going to use the bathroom. Don't worry about pausing it." I rise from the couch stiffly, my back disagreeing with the change of position. This doesn't go unnoticed by Steve.

"Do you want me to walk you there?" Steve hovers his hands around my torso as I decline.

"No no, I'll be alright. You stay here with Mr. Trouble Maker over here." I point to Peter and smirk. The boy playfully narrows his eyes at me, but I can see the concern hidden in his expression.

I make it halfway to the bathroom before my vision starts to get spotty. I grab onto the wall as I realize that I'm about to lose consciousness. 

"Steve..." I call out weakly, but my attempt is futile.

Everything fades to black.

Chapter Text

I hear a thud. My head snaps over to the hallway that Tony had walked down a few moments ago. 

Peter doesn't seem to hear it. I don't want to scare him so I just tell him that I'm checking on his father. Peter looks a little suspicious, but I just tell him to stay on the couch. It's probably nothing anyways.

I travel towards the source of the sound, my steps cautious but quick. My heart stops when I catch sight of Tony. He's on the floor, limbs splayed out.

Lifeless. 

"Tony!" I fall to my knees before him. I hover my hands over his face, afraid to touch him. After a few moments, once I come to my senses, I realize I need to take him to the Medbay. But first, I check his pulse. I press my shaking fingers to the inside of his limp wrist. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in until now, when I feel his pulse against my skin. I feel like it may be too slow, but at least he's alive.

As long as he's alive.

I slot my arms under his knees and his shoulders and lift him up gently. Once he's secure in my arms I rush over to Peter. 

"Peter, we gotta go." I try to sound calm, but I don't think I'm doing a very good job considering the panic on Peter's face. 

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Peter shrieks. 

"I'll explain in the elevator, but I need you to press the button for me! C'mon! Let's go!" My voice is not at all calm at this point. I'm half shouting and Peter winces, because I've never even slightly raised my voice at him, ever.

I can't worry about that. I'll apologize to him later. Tony needs to see Bruce right fucking now.

"Can you please tell me what happened? I'm kinda freaking out here." Peter voice is small and he's hunched in on himself. His eyes are glassy and I feel a pang in my chest. I probably scared him shitless when I raised my voice, if he wasn't already before. 

"I found him unconscious in the hallway. I don't know what happened before that." I say, making sure to keep my voice soft. "I'm sorry for yelling, Bear. I panicked. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you. 

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I would've reacted the same way." It's then that the elevator doors open with a ding. I rush out with Peter following behind me.

"Oh, hey-" Bruce starts in a friendly tone before processing the fact that there's a limp Tony in my arms. Bruce gets up in an instant. He points to the nearest patient room. "In there. Now." 

I place Tony on the gurney hastily. I explain to what happened as Bruce gets to work, cutting into Tony's shirt to gain access to his chest. He places heart monitor stickers to Tony's chest and connects him to an IV to get some fluids in him. During all of this, I'm hugging Peter to my chest. I cover his face with my arm, not wanting him to look. I hope he isn't too traumatized by the end of all this.

The end of all this. I try not to think about under what circumstances might the end of all this be. I don't want Tony to die. He can't die. He's not allowed to. I'm not going to let him. He can't leave Peter and I alone without him. He should get to watch Peter turn into an adult. He should get to watch Peter graduate like all parents do. 

Tony doesn't deserve this. He's put his own life on the line to save others countless times. And yet, the universe has decided that he should have cancer. 

It's not fucking fair. 

As Peter sobs against my chest, Bruce pulls out his stethoscope and listens to Tony's heart. I can't help but notice the way Bruce frowns as he moves the device to different locations on Tony's chest. 

"What wrong? Why are you making that face?" I ask. Peter tries to look up from my chest but I push his head back to its position, making sure my son doesn't see this. 

Bruce meets my gaze and takes the stethoscope out of his ears. He drapes it around his neck as he replies. "We need to do the surgery now. I'll have to do a scan to be sure, but I think the tumor might be compressing his heart." Bruce starts wheeling Tony away before I even get a word out. 

"WHAT?!" Peter flinches in my arms at my shout. I tighten my hold on him, murmuring an apology. 

"I promise, I'll explain later. I have have to get him a CAT scan right now and call Dr. Cho. Once she's here, I'll come find you guys and explain everything." Bruce hurriedly responds. Subsequently, he practically sprints down the hall towards the scanning machine. 

I stand there frozen with my crying child tucked into my chest.

How did this happen? Ten minutes ago the three of us were sitting in our living room happily watching Star Wars. And now...

Well, I don't know. I don't know what's happening. This doesn't feel real. I don't feel real.

"Papa?" Peter breaks the silence. His voice is wrecked from the sheer amount of sobbing he had been doing not too long ago. 

I pet his hair gently and place a kiss upon his hair. "Yeah, Bear?"

"Is Dad going to be okay?" His brown little doe eyes stare into my own. I cup his face in my hands and use my thumb to wipe away the wetness from his red-rimmed, puffy eyes. 

"I hope so, Buddy. I hope so."

~

"Shit." I mutter under my breath as I look at Tony's CAT scan.

This isn't good. This isn't good at all. This is in fact, incredibly terrible. It looks like, even though Tony's tumor has still shrunk in size overall, it's somehow compressed Tony's aorta, which is the largest and most important blood vessel in the body. 

I look at my watch with nothing but impatience. Dr. Cho said she would get here in 10 minutes tops. It's been 9 minutes. I decide to wheel Tony to the operating room early. I'll show her the scans while she scrubs in. I couple of moments after I pull up the scans on my laptop, Dr. Cho enters the operating room with a few nurses following her.

"Show me the scans, Banner." She goes straight to the sink and starts scrubbing her hands. I show her the scans and she analyzes them as I tell her what happened.

"Okay. I'll take it from here if you want to go talk to Steve and the kid." I nod, thanking her as I rush to find the two.

As I expected, I find them sitting in the waiting area next to the workstation in the middle of the Medbay. My heart just about breaks at the sight. They look absolutely and utterly wrecked.

I've known Steve and Tony since before they were a couple. Seeing them help one another grow and become happier, more confident people has been such a beautiful thing to witness. I'm not sure if soulmates exist, but if they do, Steve and Tony are it. If they ever broke up, love would just stop existing, I think.

Which is why telling them about this right now is going to be one of the hardest things I've had to do. I think this situation rivals when I had to tell them that Tony had cancer. 

Tony is one of my best friends. He's practically my brother. I try my hardest to hold back tears as I approach Steve and Peter. This is going to suck.

"Steve?" The man in question snaps his head up to meet my gaze. Peter is tucked under his armpit, asleep, with his head resting of his father's shoulder. Dried tear tracks are painted on both of their cheeks, but it looks particularly heartbreaking on Peter. He may be 14, but he still looks so young, especially at this moment. Steve is holding him with an iron grip if his utterly white knuckles are anything to go by. 

"Bruce! Is Tony...?" Steve doesn't finish his sentence and I don't blame him. I don't need him to anyways. I know exactly what he's asking.

I hate that he even has to ask. None of us would have ever thought this would happen to Tony. 

"He's still alive. Dr. Cho is with him in surgery." Steve lets out a relieved sob. 

"What the hell happened, Bruce? I thought he was supposed to be getting better!" Steve exclaims, still keeping his voice quiet as to not wake Peter.

"His tumor has somehow ended up compressing his aorta, which is one of the really important blood vessels that we have. Because the tumor is compressing it, it's restricting blood flow to the rest of his body. That's why he passed out."

"How does that even... I don't understand...?"

Bruce shakes his head. "I wish I could tell you how this happened, but this is just one of those things that even doctors don't fully understand. Cancer, unfortunately, is a very clever disease and it's very good at finding ways to survive. It seems like it's just got a really good hold on Tony for some reason."

Steve sniffles, glancing back over to Peter to pet his curls. "Do you think he's going to make it?"

"I hope so."

~

I wake up to hushed voices. The second thing I notice is that my chest is sore. 

I'm not exactly sure where I am or how I got here. The last thing I remember was watching Star Wars with Peter and Steve. 

Wearily, I open my eyes, only to close them again a few moments later due to the bright lights on the ceiling. I scrunch my face in discomfort, but suddenly my attention is turned away from the lights when I hear a voice, this one directed at me.

"Dad?" I try to open my eyes again to face the source of the voice, but my aversion to the light gets the best of me once again. "FRIDAY, turn the lights down to 25%."

I wait a few seconds before opening my eyes again and am pleased when the brightness is reduced to a comfortable level. The bed I'm in is sandwiched between Peter and Steve, concern etched into their features.

"Pete?" I croak, my throat dry from misuse. 

"Hold on, let's get you some water." And Steve does just that. My husband holds the cup up to my face, pointing the straw towards my mouth. I close my lips around it, feeling instant relief once I take a sip.

Steve sets the cup down once I've quenched my thirst and there's a few moments of silence before Peter breaks it.

"How are you feeling?"

I clear my throat. "Chest hurts a bit. Other than that I'm okay." A beat. "What happened?"

"You passed out." Steve explains. "Bruce did some scans and it turns out that the tumor was compressing one of your blood vessels so they had to do emergency surgery to take it out."

"... So, the tumor is gone then?" I ask hopefully. I really want this nightmare to be over. 

"Yeah, Doll. It's gone." He assures with a warm smile, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "You're cancer free, Baby." He grabs my hand with one of his own and rubs my forearm. I smile back, then turn to Peter. 

I won't have to leave him after all.

"You hear that, Pete? I'm gonna get to see you graduate." Peter's lower lip wobbles and I reach over to stroke his hair. It's not long before Peter breaks down in tears.

"I love you so much, Dad." He sobs. I have him climb up on the bed so I can engulf him in a proper hug, not one of those half assed ones. He doesn't hesitate to snuggle in my side.

I place a gentle kiss the crown of his head, letting my lips linger there for a few moments. "I love you so much too, Petey."

At this point, we're all crying. Steve scoots his chair closer and places his hand over the stubble on my head, gently planting his lips on mine.

"I told you." He says. Peter and I turn to him.

"Told us what?" Peter frowns.

"That we'd figure it out."

I grin, pulling both Steve and Peter close, soaking up their love. 

"You up for some visitors? Everyone's here to see you." Steve asks, and I just nod in nothing but contentment.

Because Steve was right. 

We figured it out. Together.