After Tony dies, his bots and AI’s just… shut down. FRIDAY stays on just enough to run the Compound. You can ask her to do something and she’ll do it, but she won’t speak. It’s hard to function when your main reason for functioning is gone.
DUM-E just stops entirely. He cuts power, limbs hanging low, heavy with an impossible yet present grief. His entire purpose was to do menial tasks for his master, and now his master is gone.
When Peter first walks into Tony’s lab, after weeks of trying and failing, he falls to his knees in the middle of the room. He’s not crying - no, the gravity of his grief tugs on him from the inside - but he’s shaking. He wants to stay here forever, surrounded by all the things Tony poured himself into.
He startles when there’s a gentle nudge to his shoulder. He ignores it at first, but then a soft whir makes him look up. DUM-E’s there, somehow managing to convey sadness, and Peter stretches out a hand to rest on the bot’s arm. DUM-E trills quietly, and they stay like that for awhile.
Suddenly, a projection opens up in front of them, and Peter jerks in surprise.
“FRIDAY?” he asks hesitantly, but he doesn’t get a verbal response.
Instead, a video starts playing. Peter sees Tony, and the sight cracks him wide open.
“Please stop.” His voice cracks on the request, but FRIDAY ignores him. The audio starts filtering in, and Peter can’t help but listen.
The first clip is Tony talking to Pepper.
“No, I don’t care what SHIELD says, I’m not telling them who Spider-Man is. Let the kid deal with that when he’s older. God,” he says irritably, and then it flashes to another clip.
“Cancel the meeting. May sent a text; Peter had a bad patrol. He’s coming over to the lab, and I don’t want him stuck in his head,” Tony tells Pepper.
Peter watches, transfixed. The ache inside him intensifies into something unbearable, but he can’t seem to look away as another clip is played, just flashes of Tony in the Compound. This time, he’s talking to Rhodey in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter.
“Never figured you for the mentor type. But it’s a good look on you, Tones,” he comments, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Tony takes a sip from his mug of coffee. “Yeah, well, he’s a good kid. He’s already better than all of us combined. He’s going to save the world one day.”
Peter’s throat aches, clogged up with cries he hasn’t let out since Tony died, but he tries to swallow around it, eyes burning.
“FRIDAY, please,” he croaks, staring at Tony’s face through tears. The AI ignores him.
This time, Tony is in his workshop, working on Peter’s suit.
“FRI, what do we think about having a feature where a hard exo-skeleton can form around the suit? Poor kid’s terrified of being crushed after the whole Toomes thing. It’d be nano-tech, obviously, but it’d provide a little more protection and be able to withstand more weight.”
Peter can’t help the few tears that spill over, and he swipes at them angrily. He doesn’t want to cry. He just wants to be better. The next clip plays, and he’s shaking in earnest now, the ache of grief seeping into every corner of his body.
This time, Tony’s on the phone as he walks through the halls of the Compound.
“Happy, be careful on the roads when you come back with the kid. It’s icy out there,” he’s saying, and then the next bit of video plays.
Peter’s tears are now streaming down his face faster than he can stop them.
“No!” Tony bangs his fist on the table emphatically. “He’s not coming with us on this mission. The stakes are too high - he could get seriously hurt.”
“Tony,” Steve sighs. “Peter is good at what he does. We could really use him. You can’t wrap him in bubble wrap and protect him from everything. That’s part of this business.”
Tony gives him a scathing glare. “He’s not coming with us, and that’s final,” he spits before leaving the room.
A high-pitched sound leaves Peter, something inhuman and pained beyond belief, and he chokes, trying to hold it back as the next clip plays.
This time, Tony and Pepper are lying in bed, Tony’s head in her lap and she runs her fingers through his hair.
“Maybe I do want kids,” Tony says absentmindedly, and the hand in his hair freezes.
“Tony, you have literally never wanted kids,” Pepper reminds him.
“I don’t know,” Tony muses, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, looking after someone, watching them grow up.”
Pepper’s silent for a moment, thoughts whirling, before she says, “This is because of Peter, isn’t it?”
Tony shoots up. “What? No, of course not. Why would you even say that?”
Pepper laughs, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Oh come on, Tony. You’re practically that kid’s dad,” she says. Tony opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off. “And before you argue with me, the other day you literally packed him a lunch to bring to school.”
“The kid’s gotta eat! What was I supposed to do? Let him starve?” he asks defensively, but Pepper just rolls her eyes.
“Admit it - you love him,” she states.
For a minute, he just doesn’t speak, an unnamed emotion welling up within him. Finally, he looks Pepper in the eye.
“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “I love him.”
Peter lets out a loud sob, and the projection closes. He curls in on himself, completely shaking apart at the seams as he finally lets himself cry out the grief he’s kept closed up all this time.
DUM-E gently rolls closer, trilling softly and nudging the boy in concern.
Hours later, Pepper finds him curled up on the floor, the bot hovering protectively over him, and she smiles sadly.
Even after his death, Tony’s creations are watching over Peter.
