Bent, Not Broken

Steve was on his way to Tony’s workshop to force the two most significant people in his life to come out and eat something when JARVIS spoke up.

”Captain, your presence is needed in the workshop,” he said. ”I believe it’s urgent.”

Something in the AI’s tone was off and Steve picked up the pace, taking the stairs two and three at the time. He arrived at the door just in time to hear Tony snap an angry, ”I said, don’t touch it,” followed by a small commotion, a sound of something dropping on the floor, and then a slap. Alarmed, he yanked the opaque door open and zeroed in on Peter staring up at Tony, his small hand on his cheek and tears welling up in his eyes. Steve’s eyes jumped into Tony who had staggered back and was now staring Peter in utter horror.

”Tony?” Steve said softly. ”What happened?”

Tony’s head jerked up, the same horrified look still on his face. His mouth opened but no words came out. Steve started forward but stopped on his tracks when Tony flinched and scrambled to flee the workshop. Steve ached to follow him but he needed to take care of Peter first.

”Is daddy mad at me?” Peter asked quietly.

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

Shit.

”What makes you think that?” He asked, voice soft and calm, forcing his body language to relax. 

”He told me not to touch the— the— electrimagicker and I did,” Peter said, hiccuping through the more complicated word. ”And I broke it.”

”If I may interrupt, young Sir,” JARVIS said gently, ”The electromagnetic charger is only slightly bent, not broken.”

”But I still did a bad thing,” Peter insisted. ”And daddy’s mad.”

Steve sighed, picked Peter up, and walked to sit down on the couch right next to Tony’s main work station. It had once been fashionable but it was now battered and burned, both because of the various experiments gone pear-shaped, and because Tony had let Peter and DUM-E decorate it. The result was, mildly put, eccentric.

”I don’t think daddy is mad at you, Peter,” Steve said, rubbing Peter’s neck while the boy held on to him tightly, burying his face against Steve’s neck.

”But he hit me,” Peter whispered wetly, his words nearly inaudible. ”And you hit people that are bad and do bad things.”

Steve wanted to grit his teeth. Fuck you, Howard, he thought vehemently. Not only did you make your own son hate himself, you also had to reach out from beyond the grave for your grandson. Fucking up one life wasn’t enough for you?

But no, now wasn’t the time to think about Howard.

”When the Avengers fight bad people, we fight against adults or enhanced people,” Steve explained. ”Usually, that makes us even. Also, the bad people we fight often try to kill or harm lots of innocent people and that’s something we are against.”

Peter was silent for a moment, mulling this over. ”But…why did daddy hit me?” He asked in a small voice.

”I think that’s something you and daddy have to talk about, but Peter,” he held his son so that they could see eye to eye, ”I promise you, your dad absolutely does not think you’re bad, okay?” He said seriously. ”He loves you more than anything.”

It took Peter a moment to give him a wobbly nod. Steve decided it was enough for now and went back to hugging.

”How about we go find something to eat?” He asked some time later when Peter’s breathing had evened out. ”It’s way past your lunch time. Are you hungry?”

Peter sniffled against his shoulder. ”I dunno.”

”Sergeant Barnes is in the kitchen making…blueberry licorice pancakes,” JARVIS said, the small hesitation belying his opinion about Bucky’s choice of flavor combination.

”Bucky pancakes!” Peter breathed out. ”Papa, can I have Bucky pancakes?”

Steve smiled. ”Sure.”

Bucky had started stress-baking almost as soon as he’d settled in and more often than not, the team woke up to the communal kitchen filled with anything and everything from scones to pancakes to macarons to that one memorable occasion of a seven-tiered cake. Bucky also liked experimenting with different flavor combination which meant that for example, an ordinary-looking batch of pancakes might taste like pretty much anything—like raspberries and bacon. 

Even Clint wouldn’t eat those.

As they entered the kitchen, Bucky gave them an absent-minded, sideways glance before flipping the pancakes over. When Steve set Peter down and Bucky saw the bright red mark on his face, his whole frame went rigid and he gave Steve a narrow-eyed glare. 

Steve shook his head, asking him to let it be.

”So,” Bucky said, his eyes steely but his voice the familiar drawl he always used around Peter. ”Came to steal my pancakes again?”

”It’s not stealing if you hand him a giant stack and tell him to eat,” Steve reminded him. 

”I’m gonna eat all the pancakes!” Peter declared, his voice still a bit scratchy from the crying.

Bucky raised a brow. ”You’ll burst.”

”No, I won’t!”

”Will too.”

”Nu-uh!”

The back-and-forth bickering did a quick job of returning a grin on Peter’s face and Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. He gave Bucky a thankful smile and quietly slipped out of the kitchen.

Tony was sitting hunched over in the corner of their bedroom, hugging his knees against his chest. An empty whiskey bottle was toppled over beside him and Steve swallowed his disappointment. It had been years since Tony had last gone on a bender, but… well, once an alcoholic was always an alcoholic.

”Didn’t drink it,” Tony muttered without looking up. 

”I didn’t say anything.”

”You didn’t have to. I could feel your disappointment.” Slowly, Tony raised his head and looked at Steve. He looked terrible with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, but what hit Steve the hardest was the hollow resignation in Tony’s eyes before he averted his gaze.

Steve let out a long, controlled breath, crossed the room, and sat by him, ignoring the way Tony flinched like he was expecting a blow. 

”Tony, what happened?” He asked quietly.

”I fucked up.”

”How?”

Tony let out a hollow sound that was probably meant to be a bark of laughter. To Steve, it sounded more like someone had ripped his chest open and torn out his soul.

”How do you think? I hit my son.”

”And?”

”And? And?!” Tony looked up at him with wild eyes. ”There is no ’and’. I fucked up.”

”And, what are you going to do about it?” Steve asked pointedly.

Tony didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall. 

Steve mimicked his pose, knowing full well that looking at Tony now would just clam him up further. He wanted to reach out and shake Tony but he also wanted to hold him close and never let go because this? This was one of Tony’s worst nightmares come to life.

Like he’d read Steve’s mind, Tony said, ”I told you this would happen.”

”And I told you I’d be there by your side.”

”Why? Because you said ’I do’?” Tony sneered.

”No, because I love you,” Steve said mildly. He knew Tony and knew not to take his barbs seriously. In general, Tony would lash out when he felt vulnerable because that’s how he was conditioned to do. 

”Tony, you’re not Howard,” he said. ”You made a mistake.”

Tony shook his head. ”No, I— I fucked up,” he choked out in a thick voice. ”I can’t…That’s… That’s how it starts and I can’t do that, I can’t let it happen, Steve, I can’t— I won’t allow it. Not to Peter.”

”Stop,” Steve interrupted and turned to face him. ”How do you feel?”

Tony let out an incredulous laugh that sounded very much like a sob. ”What? What do you mean, ’how I feel?’ I hit my son, Steve, what kind of a father does that? A fuck-up of a father, a monster. I should know, I grew up with one. And now I’m turning into him,” he said in a flat voice. His hands shook and he looked ready to throw up.

”Did Howard ever say he felt like a monster?”

”How the fuck would I know?” Tony snarled. ”He never talked to me, he never said he was proud of me, hell, he never even said he liked me! So how the fuck would I know whether or not beating me up with his belt made him feel bad.”

Steve nodded. ”Okay.”

”Okay?” Tony repeated. ”It’s not fucking okay! You should be mad at me, screaming at me for ruining our son’s life, being unfit to be a father, for using corporal punishment on a fucking five-year-old kid!” Tony finished in a yell and then slumped back, breathing heavily, his hands clenched into fists against the floor.

”I don’t have to yell at you. You’re doing it yourself just fine,” Steve said. ”Don’t get me wrong. I’m pissed as hell, but not at you. I’m pissed at Howard.”

”Howard didn’t hit my son, I did!” Tony hissed.

”Yes, because that’s how you were raised!” Steve snapped back, then closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. ”You grew up with an abusive father who thought beating you up on a regular basis would build up character and teach you right from wrong. You grew up with a man whose automatic reaction to your questions was to ridicule you and hit you in the head.” He threw his hands up. ”Hell, you grew up with a man whose idea of a father-son bonding time was to shove a glass of whiskey into your hand and get your drunk when you were nine!

”Not having the equipment you need but were never given isn’t your fault.”

Tony blinked, his face scrunched up in genuine confusion. ”What?” 

Steve sighed, gathering his thoughts. ”Even with my limited experience, I know parenting is hard work. To be a parent means you’re going to fuck up, you’re going to make mistakes, you’re going to fall on your face. It’s hard even if you grew up with parents you could count on but it’s immensely more difficult when you have nothing draw from.

”Look, my Ma was no saint. She was away a lot because she had to work to support us and she often didn’t have the energy to spend much time with me. But I remember her sense of humor and the way she laughed with me at the caricatures I drew of our neighbors. She told me she loved me and she supported my dreams, but she also called me out on my stupid stunts. And when she was tired, she was snappish and sometimes she swore at me, but she never made me feel worthless.

”I grew up knowing I’d probably die because of my sickly body, but she never said I was a waste of space.” 

He saw his words hit home when Tony flinched.

”I look back at my Ma and I know what kind of a parent I want to be, and I think I know how to get there,” Steve said softly. ”You look back at Howard and you see an abuser.”

Tony shook his head. ”It’s not an excuse.”

”No, it isn’t. But it helps you to understand why you react the way you react.”

They sat in silence for some time. Finally, Tony said, ”I have to apologize to Peter.”

Steve nodded. ”Yeah.”

Tony turned to look at him. ”What if he hates me?” He asked, decades of self-loathing visible in his eyes.

”He won’t.”

Tony blinked several times. ”Okay.” He cleared his throat and swallowed, then repeated, ”Okay. Yeah. Let’s go,” and pushed himself to stand up. ”J, where’s Peter?”

”Young Sir is currently in the kitchen with Sergeant Barnes. So far, he’s consumed nine pancakes and half a bottle of chocolate syrup.”

They shared a look. 

”Oh boy.”

Bucky and Peter were making funny faces at each other when Steve and Tony entered. Peter’s back was to them so he didn’t realize someone was there until Bucky leaned back in his chair and looked up. He was seemingly relaxed, but his eyes were sharp and calculating.

Beside Steve, Tony nearly vibrated out of his skin when Peter turned. No-one said anything for a moment, the tension almost palpable, and then Peter launched himself off his chair. Tony fell to his knees at the same time as Peter jumped into his arms.

”I’m sorry, daddy! I’m sorry sorry sorry—” Peter babbled against Tony’s chest.

”No!” Tony drew back to look him in the eye. ”Peter, sweetheart, that wasn’t your fault. It was my fault and I need to say I’m sorry.”

”But I was bad!”

”Peter, honey,” Tony said seriously. ”Being interested in what I do doesn’t make you bad. Wanting to help me in the workshop doesn’t make you bad. You being you isn’t bad, it’s wonderful. You are wonderful.”

Peter blinked. ”Then why did you hit me, daddy?” He asked quietly.

Tony swallowed. ”Because that’s what my daddy did to me, honey. That’s how I grew up. That’s what I thought daddies were supposed to do, even when I knew it was wrong. Today, I was tired and cranky and when you didn’t obey me, I did what my daddy had done to me. It was wrong and I’m sorry.

”You are the most important thing in my life, Peter. You are smart and funny and so wonderful, and I love you so much. I’m not angry at you, honey, I’m angry at me. I’m an adult. I should know better.”

They hugged again, so hard that Tony’s hands were trembling and Peter’s knuckles were white and with his enhanced hearing, Steve could make out the whispered apologies Tony pressed into Peter’s syrup-matted hair. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, unsure of whether the scene in front of him made his heart burst or break.

In the following days, Tony dove into new plans with determination Steve had last seen before Peter’s adoption when he’d cleaned up his act to prove everyone (and mostly himself) that he was worthy. He added a subroutine to JARVIS’s code, authorizing him to step in if Tony got too stressed. He programmed DUM-E with a protocol that would allow him to douse Tony with his beloved fire extinguisher if necessary. And he monitored himself, taking time-outs when he caught himself in a stressed-out spiral.

Peter seemed to forget about it all in a matter of days but Steve knew Tony didn’t. 

One night, Steve woke up to an empty space beside him. With a sigh, he got up and padded toward Peter’s room. Tony was standing at the door, hugging himself and nibbling at the cuticle of his thumb. 

He snuck his arms around Tony and hugged him from behind, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. ”Come back to bed,” he said softly.

”I’m going to fuck up again,” Tony whispered. ”I’m going to fuck up and—” he fell silent with a small shudder.

Steve didn’t say ’No, you won’t,’ or ’It’ll be alright,’ or ’Don’t worry about it.’ He knew that, no matter what, Tony would worry. And he knew Tony would fuck up, just like Steve would eventually fuck up. It was life. 

Instead, he said, ”You’re not alone. I’m right here with you.” He kissed Tony on the cheek and nudged him to come back to bed. ”And the team is here. We can do this.”

Tony swallowed and gave a little nod. ”We can do this,” he repeated, nodded again, and turned to go along with Steve.

It wouldn’t be perfect because they were only human. But it would be enough. 

They could do it. 

Together.