Alright, first things first: I'm sorry I'm writing this. Really. I'm sorry I thought of this and decided to go through with writing it. I love angst and it's how I cope with stuff. Sorry.

Things you should know going into this story: Tony adopted Peter as a baby; he's about 10 here. Stephen is transgender (designated female at birth), and married Tony a few years after he adopted Peter- maybe he was about five? I dunno- and adopted him. So Peter has two dads who have adopted him.

Trigger Warning for Rape/Sexual Assault, threats of murder and sexual assault (specifically threats directed towards a child).

Also don't worry this story will have a happy ending...Eventually...

Enjoy.

Tony sat on the couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket and eating popcorn while he watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Sure, he was a billionaire, sure, Peter was in bed, sure, Stephen wasn't here, and sure, he didn't really have any justification for this, but Tony really didn't care. He was an adult with a love of musicals. So, by god, if he wanted to watch a fucking musical, he was going to.

"A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain softly blows over Lullaby Bay," Tony sang under his breath, remembering when Peter was younger and Tony sang lullabies like Hushabye Mountain to him to help him fall asleep.

He missed those days. Not that Peter wasn't still willing to humor his old man by watching musicals with him, but Tony had always been fond of the lullabies to help him drift off to sleep. Peter was "too old" for those now.

Tony glanced at his hot chocolate mug. Running a bit empty, mostly because he hated running the heat when it's just him up. Peter liked to bundle himself up in a nest of blankets; if Tony kept the heat on until bed, Peter woke up in the middle of the night freezing. If he turned it on after Peter went to bed, he'd wake up in half an hour or so dealing with something akin to heatstroke.

Tony didn't particularly like either option.

He carefully untangled himself from the thick blanket, seized the nearly empty mug, and headed across the room to the kitchen to make more.

He wondered vaguely where Stephen was and when he'd be home- Tony missed having his sorcerer around. Not only did Stephen tolerate his late night musicals, he made it easier to sleep.

~(*)~

Three mugs of hot chocolate later, Tony is humming along with the Doll on a Music Box/Truly Scrumptious duet. He loved to sing Truly Scrumptious to Stephen. It was just so fitting.

"Waiting for love's...first kiss- you're the answer to my wishes," Tony sang quietly, almost like he wasn't really aware he was singing along with the songs.

Then he jumped back in surprise, a yelp of fear rising in his throat as the unexpected portal appeared in the living room. Stephen fell through it, shaking and bloodied, before managing to close the thing and lying still in a crumpled, bloody heap on the carpet.

"Stephen!" Tony quickly got over the initial shock, flinging himself off the couch and crouching beside his injured husband.

The sorcerer flinched away, looking crazed and fearful as Tony reached out to him.

"Stephen?"

"Don't touch me," Stephen gasped, looking cornered. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route.

"Okay," Tony said, trying to calm him down. "Okay, Love, I won't touch you."

Tony vaguely registered the musical was still playing in the background- he could hear the Baron of Vulagria yelling something- but he ignored it.

"You're hurt," Tony murmured, and Stephen recoiled a bit more at the words. "What happened?"

"N-nothing," Stephen muttered, trying and failing to act like the injuries were no big deal. That was no easy feat, however- he was bleeding pretty badly on the carpet. Tony couldn't help but noticed how particularly disheveled Stephen's clothes were- a few things looked inside out or backwards.

He didn't say anything, though.

"How can I help?" He could see Stephen wasn't going to tell him what had happened. That was fine. But he wanted Stephen to give him some way to help. Anything. Anything to make that frightened look go away- or at least to make it less frightened.

"I…." Stephen paused, then muttered, "I...think I should….go….clean up."

Tony chewed on his lip, unsure of this idea, but he nodded despite himself. "If that will make you feel better, Love."

Stephen moved to push himself to his feet, stumbling a bit and gripping the edge of the coffee table for support.

"Do you want help?" Tony asked worriedly, but Stephen shook his head.

"'M fine."

"I'll…. I'll stay out here, but call if you need me, alright, Love?" Tony called.

Stephen mumbled a response, closing the bedroom door a bit harder than he probably intended. Reluctantly Tony replaced himself on the couch, one hand moving to his lips as he turned his eyes to the screen, not that he really saw the climax's conclusion.

It's nothing, his mind said. A mistake.

He never takes it off, another part of his mind disagreed

Where? asked a third voice.

Where isn't important, Tony thought, scowling a bit. The real question is what happened. Because they're connected, I'm sure of it.

Focused on this thought, Tony barely noticed the golden ring on his finger brushing gently across his lips as his free hand turned it slowly clockwise- the ring that matched the one missing from Stephen's scarred hand.

~(*)~

Stephen held himself steady, gripping the bathroom counter for support.

He really was a mess. His face was bruised and bloodied, and he could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. He felt weak and dizzy, and his stomach was writhing.

I shouldn't have come home.

He shook his head almost dazedly. What had he been thinking? Coming home had been a stupid idea- in fact, it had been borderline childish. After….well, afterwards, all he could think about was how much he wanted to see his husband and son.

The problem was Tony. He'd forgotten how perceptive Tony was- and he hadn't exactly made it difficult for him, flinching away like that would Tony had moved to touch his shoulder.

Everything ached.

Everything stung.

And everything was filthy.

Somewhat reluctantly, Stephen began to remove his clothing, flinching slightly as more skin came into focus. It wasn't a pretty sight.

When he was done he took another moment to steady himself against the sink counter, staring into the mirror. There were some nasty gashes on his chest- a couple bad enough to add to the top surgery scars in the future.

He really was a mess.

Trying not to think about it, Stephen pushed himself away from the counter towards the shower.

He turned the water on as hot as he could stand, which was hotter than usual, and sank down to the floor, letting the water fall freely down on him.. The water felt almost scalding against Stephen's injuries, and he was almost pleased for it. He deserved it, after all.

He took the thick, yellow sponge in his hand and, after lathering it up with soap, preceded to scrub his skin so hard he was making some of his injuries worse and making previously unblemished skin raw.

Filthy, filthy, filthy.

"Stephen?" The sorcerer froze, listening hard when he realized Tony had spoken. The shower was still running over him, drowning out other noises.

A pause.

"Stephen?" A small knock this time.

"Y-yes?" Stephen called back, hoping his voice sounded steady, not frightened or shaky.

"You okay, Love?" Tony sounded a bit more relieved- like he was glad Stephen had answered him.

"Fine," Stephen agreed. He could feel fear starting to rise in him. "I'm fine."

"Okay."

A pause.

"I'm going to go to bed, Love, but if you need me just call, okay?"

"'Kay," Stephen agreed. He wished he didn't feel so sick.

"Sleep well, I love you," Tony called.

The same thing he said every night.

This wasn't any regular night.

Stephen wanted so badly to seize Tony by the collar and scream at him.

On the other hand, if Tony never found out about this, wasn't that the better option?

He wouldn't love you anymore, warned a voice in Stephen's head.

He'd take Peter and run away from you, sneered another.

You'd become the joke he tells all his new friends at company parties, third predicted, almost delightedly.

You betrayed him, sang a silky fourth voice.

And besides-

"Love you too."

What would Tony Stark say if he could see his girlfriend right now?

Aw, look at the little slut, she likes it!

Damn, dude, looks like you're better in bed than Tony fuckin' Stark.

With a soft but shrill cry, Stephen scrubbed at his skin harder.

~(*)~

It was just a normal mission it was just a normal mission it was-

Hands moved along his bare skin, making him shudder in disgust and fear. They traced the scars from his top surgery, mocking them.

"Think Stark's got a thing for damaged goods?" One of them asked, pointing at Stephen's scarred hand pinned under their foot.

If he could just reach his sling ring please it was so close just a bit further just a bit-

"Let's get to the real fun."

~(*)~

Stephen wasn't sure how long he'd been in the shower. All he knew was when he finally managed to stumble out of it Tony was fast asleep in bed, facing Stephen's side, hoping for a cuddle.

Stephen was tempted, but the idea of someone touching him made him want to vomit.

"Couch it is," he mumbled to himself, walking back out to it.

Tony had cleaned up the blood he'd left on the carpet. That was good. Stephen let himself drop onto the couch and curled up into a tight, safe ball.

He didn't know if he'd be able to sleep, though- not after the horror….

~(*)~

Stephen felt frozen, numb- like he couldn't move and couldn't feel. He could barely think. When he could think the thoughts were guilty- how could I do this to Tony?

They were laughing at him, mocking him- he just wanted it to be over, wanted to be somewhere where he was safe and not in agony, where he could be free of the worry.

Eventually they were finally done, and Stephen felt relieved- finally, he could breathe, he was free of the stink of their breath and the feeling of their clammy skin against his own-

"By the way," one said, leaning down to Stephen, his voice almost a purr, "if you tell Stark, we'll do to your son what we just did to you, and we'll make him watch before we kill them."

He reached out a hand-

~(*)~

Stephen screamed as the fingertips touched his cheek, and Peter jumped back, a cry of fright rising in his throat.

"Stephen?!" Tony was beside him now, looking terrified. "Are you alright, love?"

Stephen panted hard, glancing around.

He wasn't here. It was Peter who had stroked his cheek, not that bastard.

"Sorry," Stephen muttered, shaking his head. "Sorry. Nightmare. From last night." Stephen froze, then added carefully, "...you know, it was...a scary fight. Had some close calls."

Tony didn't look convinced.

"Sorry, little guy," Stephen said easily, carefully pulling his hand away before Tony could touch it. "Didn't mean to scare you. You're sure getting good at sneaking."

As he spoke, Stephen's eyes caught sight of his hand.

~(*)~

"You won't be needing this anymore," sneered one, pulling the wedding ring off Stephen's finger and pocketing it. "Marriages with such big secrets don't last long."

~(*)~

Stephen bit the inside of his cheek, then smiled encouragingly at his adopted son. "Come on, little man," he said, getting to his feet. "Let's get you some breakfast. What do you think? Waffles?"

Stephen glanced back at Tony, but quickly looked away again, not wanting to meet the calculating gaze analyzing his every move.

A frightening thought entered Stephen's mind for the first time-

How much longer will I have him before I lose him?