Archive of Our Own ^beta

I love you.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, they rattled and wracked Tony’s brain until it was the only thing he could focus on.

“Tony! Tony!” Peter chanted.

“Yes, Peter?” Tony refocused his gaze on his the kid.

Peter was standing in the middle of a pool Tony had forgotten existed at the Compound, wearing bright pink goggles. “I’m about to do the sickest flip, watch me.”

“Peter, all I’ve been doing is watch you, kind of the whole reason I’m here,” Tony reminded.

“I think I’m going to go swimming,” Peter announced, the circles under his eyes looking darker than they had a week ago.

“Swimming?” Tony ignored the way his heart beat just a bit faster. “Do you even know how to swim?”

“Of course, I do.” Peter scoffed before looking down and picking at a loose thread. “In theory.”

“Well, you know you don’t have to be here, right?” Peter slid the goggles up and off of his eyes as he swam to the edge where Tony was letting his feet dangle in the water.

Tony raised a pointed brow. “Let’s revisit the topic of you swimming alone and unsupervised when you’ve mastered the ability to float, okay?”

“Hey! I can float,” Peter protested as he relied on his fingers sticking to the wall and his own strength to keep his head above the water. “I just can’t do it very well and that’s not my fault.”

Peter was all muscle and, almost, no fat; he could float but it wasn’t easy.

“Are you going to do a flip or not?” Tony questioned.

“Yes,” Peter drawled as he pushed himself off the wall, glaring accusingly at him as he swam to the middle. “Don’t forget you were the one that distracted me.”

Tony was quick to splash him before he got too close to the middle and thus out of the splash zone.

Peter gasped in mock outrage, wiping at his face before glaring at Tony. “That’s not fair! You know I won’t splash you back.”

“I know.” Tony beamed at him. “That’s why I did it.”

Peter indignantly fixed his goggles before stretching. “Alright, are you ready to be blown away by my hardcore, next-level flipping skills?”

“Just do it, kid.” Tony hid his fond smile behind his hand.

My kid.

Peter huffed and attempted the flip. Emphasis on attempted, because whatever Tony just witnessed him do was anything but a flip.

Peter resurfaced with a splutter, looking not unlike a drowned rat as he tried to reorient himself.

Tony let him, mentally counting down from ten, as he watched silently.

“So,” Peter started when he finally looked at Tony, sliding his goggles down to rest around his neck, “Was that a ten or what?”

“What floaty do you want, the donut or the pizza?” Tony asked instead of answering.

Peter hung his head. “The donut.”

It took some slight reaching before Tony was able to slide the float into the pool. It was almost comical the way Peter immediately clambered onto the float.

Technically, it would be easy. The interaction would last maybe two minutes, maximum. Tony could say it now, he could even attach a joke to it.

I love you, kiddo, but that was the worst flip I’ve ever seen.

Peter would probably laugh, maybe he’d play along and huff something back. He didn’t need to hear it back, he knew Peter loved him. He knew, he knew, he knew.

So, why were the words still catching in his throat?

A wet hand pawed at his knee, startling him out of his thoughts. His gaze snapped down to an apologetic-looking Peter.

“Sorry, I was just asking if you could make a pot of coffee?” Peter looked up at him, hope shining in his eyes.

Tony checked his watch. “At five pm? Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

Peter pouted up at him. “But I’ll be so cold when I get out, I need the coffee to warm me up.”

“Take a hot shower,” Tony suggested, already knowing he was going to put on a pot for the both of them.

“Was already planning on it,” Peter grunted as he heaved himself out of the water. “Good God, I’m heavy,” he complained as he pushed himself into a standing position.

Tony lifted his feet out of the water and accepted Peter’s outstretched hand, allowing the kid to pull him up. “You hungry, too?”

Peter groaned. “Starved. All those cool tricks I did for you worked up an appetite.”

Tony only gave a noncommittal hum.

-

Tony ignored the heavy pit in his stomach as he kicked his bag just under the hotel bed. It wasn’t like this was the first business trip he’d been on since Peter. But it was the first time he’d left without saying anything.

It was just a business trip, Tony reminded himself. He was decidedly ignoring the silent, pointed look Happy had shot him.

Peter would probably think nothing of it. He might be a little disappointed if he shows up only to get informed that Tony was on a trip, but he’d be fine.

At least Tony hoped so, he hoped that Peter would just chalk it up to stressed forgetfulness.

“Tony?”

“Oh, Pep,” Tony greeted, finally tearing his gaze away from the floor, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Pepper raised a perfectly trimmed brow at him. “Did you read the emails that I sent you?”

Tony smiled at her. “Are those new shoes, Pep?” When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Of course, I read the emails, Pep. I promise.”

Pepper’s shoulders lowered an inch as she nodded to herself. “Good, so you know that they’re going to ask for twelve.”

“And I’m to reaffirm that eight was the initial agreement and is what will be on the contract,” Tony finished.

Pepper paused in the middle of whatever notes she was scribbling on her tablet to point her stylus at him. “We’re willing to go up to ten, but that’s it.”

Tony gave her a thumbs-up. “Yep, sounds great.”

Pepper didn’t look entirely assured.

“I’ve got this, Pep.” Tony waved her off. “I’ll call you if there’s any trouble.” Although Tony was sure there wouldn’t be.

Pepper considered him for a moment before asking: “You’re not here because you’re running from something, right?”

Tony ignored the way his stomach churned. “What would I be running from?”

“You tell me.” Pepper knew him too well, she’d been with him for too long not to. “Tony, I know the way things ended was…rough.”

Oh, God. Please, not today.

“Uh,” Tony glanced around the room for an excuse to leave the conversation, looking especially hard at the windows, he felt a bit stupid when he realized why he was doing it, “Are we doing this right now?”

“No. No, I guess not.” Pepper pressed her lips together in a thin line.

Tony wanted to tell her, he wanted to tell her everything.

Pepper, I have a kid now. Except he doesn’t know that he’s my kid and, really, he takes care of me more than I take care of him— don’t worry, we’re working on it. Except I may have ruined that, too, by claiming him as my kid without his permission. Funny how that works.

He didn’t. He kept his little rat mouth shut.

“Is this a new form of self-harm?” Pepper blurted.

Tony had expected many things to come out of her mouth. He’d expected her to call him on his shit, maybe spit a line or two criticizing him for running away and avoiding his problems.

Emboldened by his lack of response, she continued: “You’d been getting better, I thought.”

“What do you want?” Tony asked. “What’s the purpose of having this conversation? You broke up with me, I accepted it, and I gave you space. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I wanted you to be safe,” Pepper argued, “I wanted you to stop taking these- these risks. I wanted you to stop putting yourself in dangerous positions to try and ease a never-ending supply of guilt.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony offered. He didn’t bother trying to argue against it, he knew it was true.

Pepper shook her head, her hand making an aborted move to run her fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t do it anymore. The constant sitting and waiting and wondering if this was it, if this was the battle that was going to take you out, and if not this one, then would it be the next one?”

Tony didn’t say anything.

Pepper sighed. “This is not how I thought this conversation was going to go.”

“You should know by now that things with me never go according to plan,” Tony tried for a joke.

It worked, if only marginally. He’d take the slight uptick of Pepper’s lips as a win. “I didn’t want to rehash the past.”

“It happens.” Tony shrugged, finally moving to sit on the bed.

Pepper hesitated before moving to sit next to him. “I meant what I said earlier, about you doing better.”

Tony nodded. “I, ah, stopped drinking. I’ve been sober for some months now.”

At this Pepper did smile. “I noticed. Rhodey’s been coming around more often, too.”

Tony almost winced at the reminder of why Rhodey kept coming around, more now than before. “He likes harassing me and sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Must be from your influence,” Pepper muttered, knowing full well he would hear. “I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but, I do miss you.”

Tony couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Pepper gave him a pointed look before softening.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time Pepper had looked at him like that. Soft and affectionate, her face free from any traces of bitterness.

“I can’t retire, yet. Not completely,” Tony blurted, because, of course, he couldn’t keep his rat mouth shut. He couldn't just accept a good thing, no, he always had to ruin it.

Pepper nodded, terse and jerky. “I know.”

“You know?” Tony blinked.

“And I’m going to assume the reason why has something to do with your sudden desire to take over this deal.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What are you implying?”

Pepper plucked at her nails for all of a second. “Happy told me.”

Tony cleared his throat, his fingers tapping on the bed. “Told you…what exactly?”

If it was that Peter was Spider-Man the two of them were going to have very strong words.

“You have a kid,” Pepper answered, and it was her hand squeezing his knee that kept him from interjecting with a denial. “Or at least you love him like he’s your kid.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Tony insisted, fingers now plucking at a loose thread in the bedding.

Pepper hummed. “I want to meet him.”

“Meet who?” Maybe if Tony played dumb for long enough, Pepper would let it go. “I don’t have a kid.”

“He’s Spider-Man, right?” Pepper pushed, not at all deterred by his efforts.

Tony scrubbed his face with his hand. “Something tells me you already know the answer to that question.”

“Of course, I do. I just want to know if you’ll tell me.”

Tony swallowed. He was doing a real good job at keeping Peter’s secret identity a— well, a secret. “He’s not my kid so there’s really nothing to tell.” When Pepper didn’t look convinced, “I’m serious! He’s not my kid and I’m not his father.”

Pepper considered him for a moment. “Maybe not biologically.”

Tony groaned and let his head fall back. “Not you, too.”

Pepper didn’t say anything, instead, letting silence fill the air.

Belatedly, he realized his hand had come up to rub his chest. “Even if I did, hypothetically, think of Peter as my kid— I can’t tell him; it would ruin everything.”

He couldn’t even say he loved Peter.

“Why do you think that?”

Tony shook his head. “Not think, know,” He corrected, “It’d make everything weird. Shit, Pep, what sane person would ever want me as a father? It’s a miracle he’s even willing to be my friend and I’m not going to risk that because I got too greedy.”

“From what I’ve seen, Spider-Man seems to be everything but sane.”

“How did you get a boot stuck on your head?!” Tony yelled, “And why is it on fire?!”

“Stop screeching and help me!”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt his blood pressure rise. “Whatever, sane or not, the point still stands.”

“You didn’t make a point,” Pepper accused.

“Did you not hear what I said?”

“I did and all I heard was self-deprecation.” Pepper’s gentle squeeze of his knee didn’t help cushion the statement.

“Well, you need to get your ears checked,” Tony denied, “Because I explicitly said that I can’t tell him because it jeopardizes our friendship.”

“You do realize not telling him, also, jeopardizes it,” Pepper pointed out, never one to sugar-coat.

Tony shook his head. “Not as much as telling him. I ran the numbers.”

Pepper looked away and took a deep breath. That was never a good sign. “There are no numbers, Tony, people are not machines.”

“Unfortunately,” Tony cut in, resisting the urge to pull at his collar. “It would certainly make things easier if they were, though.”

Pepper didn’t dignify that with a response. “Spider-Man’s smart, Tony, you two wouldn’t get along so well if he wasn’t.”

Tony thinks he’d still like Peter even if he wasn’t a genius. Sure, it was nice that Peter could keep up with him in the lab and follow along enough to point out flaws Tony hadn’t caught yet or to suggest a more efficient way.

But that wasn’t why Tony kept him around. Unlike him, Peter was so much more than his intelligence.

“That’s not true,” Tony refuted, “Sure, it’s great to have someone who can keep up, but that’s not why I keep Pete around.”

“I believe you,” Pepper placated, raising her hands, “But you have to admit, he is smart.”

“Of course,” Tony easily agreed.

“And he knows you pretty well,” Pepper continued, an implicative tone coloring her words.

Tony bit his cheek. “Where are you going with this?”

Pepper checked her watch before standing up. “Do you really think he won’t notice? That he won’t piece things together?”

“That I think of him as my kid?”

“That you’re avoiding him,” Pepper corrected. “You said you didn’t want to put your friendship in jeopardy, right?”

Tony swallowed and held her gaze.

Pepper squeezed his shoulder before letting out a sigh. “Even if we’re not together, I still love you and want you to be happy. You know that right?”

“I do,” Tony agreed, dread pooling in his gut.

“So, listen to me when I say this, your relationship already is in jeopardy.”

Tony let his shoulders slump under her hand. “You know, I hate when you talk sense.”

“If I don’t, then who will?” Pepper asked, she didn’t move her hand.

“I really am sorry,” Tony apologized.

“Yeah, me too.” She squeezed his shoulder once more before letting her hand drop. “I’ll give you a call when I’m back in New York.”

“I don’t think we ever did try that new Mexican place,” Tony remembered, “We should invite Rhodey. I’d say Happy, too, but I’ve decided to be upset with him for blabbing.”

Pepper’s smile looked a little bit like hope. “I’ll invite him if you don’t, we can talk more about this after your meetings.”

Ten minutes later, after she left, he got a notification— ‘Fix things with your kid and bring him, too.’

-

Admittedly, the business trip had started as a way for him to avoid his feelings. Now, he was desperately trying to cling to whatever sanity he had left.

“Honestly,” Tony muttered under his breath, “What part of ‘we’re not willing to give twelve percent’ is hard to understand?”

He’d long since passed the point of being able to hold back his frustrations and complaints. Tony was suddenly remembering why he used to refuse to attend any meetings without at least one drink in him.

Anyway. In the beginning, Tony hadn’t thought much of his messages not being answered or read. He’d chalked it up to Peter being busy with work or school, or even patrol.

After a solid week of radio silence, he’d been a little concerned but had brushed it off. It was about the time for midterms, Peter was probably just stressed and exhausted. He probably just didn’t have the time or energy.

His next message wasn’t a complaint. Not that it mattered, the next morning when Tony had time to check, Peter still hadn’t read it.

This wasn’t unusual, Tony tried to convince himself. They’ve had periods like this before and in the end, everything was fine.

Packed schedules, tendencies to hyper-fixate on their work, and temporarily residing in different time zones made constant contact impossible. Their longest stretch of no contact had been just under six weeks.

Then again, that was before Peter had firmly planted himself in Tony’s life and heart.

What if something bad had happened?

Tony raked his hands through his hair, settling his phone back into his pocket. He was overthinking, if there was something wrong with Peter then FRIDAY would have alerted him. Or Peter would have called him.

Maybe Peter was avoiding him. Maybe Peter picked up on his weird behavior and was bothered by it. Maybe he’d heard Happy or Rhodey saying something about it.

Or maybe Peter was sick of him.

Tony forced himself up from the bed, glancing at the clock on the wall with a sigh. He’d attend this last meeting and then he’d stalk Peter.

.

Tony was heavily considering bashing his head against the closest, available surface. He was also considering just calling the whole thing off, regardless of how much time, energy, and money they’d already poured into this.

That would disappoint Pepper though, it would also mean that the business trip was a complete waste of time and energy.

Tony leaned back in the chair, folding his hands together in his lap. “Everything looks good from my end.”

The group was still pouring over the contract, all pursed lips and narrowed eyes as they read.

Tony knew the document, he’d already looked over it before presenting it, and it was written by Stark Industries’ legal team.

Tony checked his watch, he was torn between feeling happy and annoyed. On one hand, he had a message from Peter. On the other, the meeting was supposed to end an hour ago and these guys were still reading and contemplating.

“The percentage is still rather low for our tastes,” They began.

Tony wanted to rip his hair out. “I get that,” he assured, “But Stark Industries will be carrying the financial burden of manufacturing and shipping these products.”

“Which is why we’re willing to go as low as twelve,” They interjected.

“Look,” Tony leaned forward, placing his hands on the table in front of him, “If you sign now, we’ll be willing to renegotiate the cuts later.”

“And if not?”

Tony gave his best smile. “Then I’ll wish you luck on finding another company willing to offer a deal as good as this one.”

They didn’t look happy but they finally managed to sign the damn papers.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Tony said before promptly leaving them in the dust.

In the privacy of the elevator, Tony finally pulled out his phone to check the message.

‘One deleted message.’

“FRIDAY,” Tony muttered, frowning at the screen, “Retrieve the message.”

‘I need help. please im sorry’

Tony forced himself to take a deep breath. It was sent half an hour ago, which meant he hadn’t wasted too much time.

“FRIDAY, what’s the fastest way to get back home?”

.

“Inadvisable, my ass,” Tony muttered in a mockery of FRIDAY as he threw his bag in the car waiting for him. He’d been ready and willing to just leave his shit behind, he hadn’t brought anything important, but FRIDAY had said it was inadvisable.

“What?” Happy questioned, raising a brow at him as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Nothing,” Tony dismissed, “Don’t worry about switching seats, just get me to Peter’s apartment.”

“Of course, Boss.” Happy, the little shit, had the audacity to look pleased.

“Have you heard from him?” Tony asked.

“Personally? No. But May has, she said he came down with a pretty bad case of the flu.”

“When was that?” Tony pressed.

“About a week ago? I think. Why?” Happy glanced at him with furrowed brows.

Tony shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did anything happen while I was gone?”

Happy merged into the left lane. “I don’t-”

“More specifically, what’s this I keep seeing about a building?”

Happy blinked and tapped the steering wheel, recognition flashing across his face. “An old warehouse went down a couple of weeks ago. No serious injuries or deaths, though.”

“Was Peter there?”

“Yes?” Happy answered.

Tony clenched his jaw. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Happy shot him a look. “No, because the kid was fine. I went to his place to check on him as soon as I heard, but the kid was fine.”

“Fine? Is that what he told you or was he actually fine? Because those are different things.”

“All of his serious injuries were already patched up and they looked pretty damn good.”

“Injuries?” Tony pressed. “What kind of injuries? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because it was fine!”

“Clearly, it’s not or else he wouldn’t have sent a message saying that he needed help!”

Happy went quiet. “Have you ever considered that maybe he needs help mentally?”

No. No, he hadn’t.

“No one’s seen Spider-Man since, maybe he’s going through something. Or maybe his suit’s fucked beyond all recognition?” Happy suggested.

Tony was not soothed. “Fine. But next time you ever hear about something like this happening, you call me and tell me.”

“Alright, alright,” Happy relented, “Whatever you say, Boss.”

Tony bit his lip. “And thank you for checking on him.”

“Just doing my job.”

-

Tony made it up the stairs in record time, jamming his key into the lock and pushing the door open. The door was already cracked before Tony remembered he should probably knock.

His knuckle connected with the door three times. “Peter?”

The only response he got was a quiet, familiar groan from somewhere inside the apartment. Tony blinked and squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the near-black apartment.

The tiny apartment was eerily quiet aside from the sound leaking in from outside; absent of the usual sounds or sights to greet him. There wasn’t a show playing, although sometimes it was a podcast, in the background. There was no shuffling as Peter organized his photos or various papers, no typing or scratching from him studying; although both knew it was a lot closer to cramming.

It was just silent.

As he passed the Iron Man-themed lamp, the one Peter had bought for no other reason other than to antagonize him, he turned it on. Not even a second after the light was on, there was a disgruntled hiss in protest.

Tony thinks he feels his heart stop in his chest at the sight of Peter lying on the floor. His eyes scanned the kid for any injuries, a fruitless and pointless endeavor with Peter’s sweatpants and hooded jacket covering him. “Peter?”

With an unsteady hand, Peter half-attempted to push himself up only to abort midway when his arm threatened to buckle under the weight; he settled for just turning away from Tony.

“What happened?” Tony whispered, mostly to himself but he wouldn’t complain if Peter answered.

Peter didn’t. The only response Tony got was a weak, choked whine and Peter curling further into himself.

Tony wasn’t sure what to do. Tentatively, he took a spot on the floor next to his kid, and when that produced no reaction, he reached out.

Underneath his palm, Peter’s shoulder jerked away from him. “Sorry,” Peter rasped, trembling hands desperately clutching at his arms.

“Don’t be,” Tony murmured, “Is it okay if I stay?”

Peter didn’t respond for a long moment. Tony was already working up the strength to get up and force himself out of the apartment.

“I-I can’t,” Peter broke off, and Tony wished he knew what Peter’s face was doing, his grip on his arms getting impossibly tighter. “Turn it off!” He growled.

The lamp.

“Shit,” Tony swore as he hurried to turn off the light, once again submerging the room in black.

He didn’t miss Peter’s instant sigh of relief.

Still at the lamp, Tony toed off his shoes before cautiously shuffling back to where he remembered Peter to be. He overshot the distance by a bit, Peter grunting as his foot collided with him.

“Sorry,” Tony reclaimed his earlier spot, “I’m not very good at this.”

“‘S okay,” Peter slurred, “Jus’ glad you came.”

“Of course,” Tony didn’t hesitate to assure. In the dark room, he could make out Peter finally uncurling and rolling onto his back.

“You shouldn’t have,” Peter said, voice full of regret and something else Tony couldn’t place, “Didn’t mean to drag you here.”

“Peter, I’m glad you reached out and you didn’t drag me, I came willingly because I…care about you.” He was pathetic.

Peter sniffed and turned his head to mumble something into the hood of his jacket.

“Peter,” Tony started, “What’s going on?”

“‘M fine,” Peter insisted, “Just my senses, nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Don’t know why I texted.”

Ouch. “Are you hurt at all?”

“Not anymore,” Peter answered, short and stiff, after a moment of silence.

Tony blew out a breath, ignoring the tightening in his chest. “Can I see?”

“No.”

Tony pressed his lips together, his clasped hands coming up to his lips. “Can I ask why?”

“Don’t want you to see,” Peter confessed.

Tony took a deep breath. “I, uh, gathered that much.”

“I look…really bad. Smell bad, too.”

Tony frowned. “Pete, you know I’d never judge you.”

Peter shook his head. “I can’t.”

Oh, the ultimate question when it came to Peter Parker— to push or not to push? “It’s just me, kiddo.”

Peter sniffled.

Tony bit his knuckle. “Okay,” He finally accepted, “You don’t have to show me.”

Peter sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

There was a beat of silence, and then there was a flurry of movement as Peter tried to push himself up once again.

“Peter?” Tony asked, he wasn’t sure if Peter could hear it over the sounds of the kid’s muffled sobs.

Peter sat on his knees, his hands covering his face, and whatever his hands didn’t obscure the hood did.

Tony bit his cheek and only released when the taste of copper flooded his mouth.

Peter’s shoulders heaved with every choked sob and every frantic attempt at scrubbing the tears off his face.

“Oh, Peter.” Tony tried to reach out to Peter, once again.

Peter clasped his hands over his mouth to muffle the answering wail. “I’m sorry,” he choked, “Please, go away, don’t touch me. Don’t touch, don’t.”

Tony pulled his hand away, his nails digging into his palms. “Okay, no touching.”

Peter just sobbed.

Tony watched for a second.

How could he fix this? How could he make this better? What could Tony do for Peter?

What did Peter do for him?

Hot chocolates and mugs half-full of tea were almost a must on the bad days and nights. Peter typically preferred hot chocolate. The tea was hard on his senses, particularly his sense of smell.

Often, Peter would fix him a plate of something, usually small and light. Tony might be able to do that. Maybe he could get Happy to bring Peter a sandwich from that place he frequented, Delmars?

“Here,” Peter set down a few warm and damp washcloths, “You’ve got some oil on your face.”

Peter never acknowledged it, but Tony thinks he knows about his recurring aversion to washing his face.

What else?

Blankets. Whenever Tony was feeling particularly down and so fucking cold, Peter would show up and ask if Tony would lay with him in his makeshift nest of a bed— “Just until I fall asleep? Please?”

Hot chocolate, the sandwich could wait, warm washcloths, and blankets. He could do that.

Tony’s knees cracked as he pushed himself up. Peter didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll be right back, il mio bambino,” He whispered, regardless.

He should probably grab Peter a spare change of clothes, too. But first, hot chocolate.

It took some quiet and slow scrounging, as he only had his phone screen as a source of light, to find the hot chocolate packets. He didn’t see any milk in the fridge, so, he’d have to make it with water.

Tony made a mental note to complain to Peter about it later when his kid was feeling better. Mentally, he patted himself on his back for gifting Peter an electric kettle.

Every so often, his eyes slid over to where Peter was muffling his sobs as he wandered in and out of rooms, gathering the clothes while the water was warming, finding a basin for the two washcloths he’d found, and clearing off Peter’s bed of books and spare parts.

By the time everything was assembled and Tony was returning, Peter’s cries calmed to the occasional hiccup and sniffle.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted as he reclaimed his spot beside Peter. “I got you a washcloth if you want to clean your face.”

Peter didn’t move for a beat, two beats, and then he was holding out a shaky hand in a silent request.

Tony wrung out the cloth before handing it over. He distracted himself by grabbing the other cloth, this one dry, for Peter.

The wet cloth hit the floor with a quiet thump, only audible because there was nothing else to drown it out.

“I’ve got…”

“Can I hug you?” Peter interrupted, voice hoarse and tired.

Tony dropped the towel and opened his arms. “Always.”

Less than a second later, Peter was diving into his arms, burying his still-damp face into Tony’s neck, his hands came up to clutch at his suit jacket that he’d yet to change out of.

Tony dropped the towel in favor of holding onto Peter just as tight. “I’ve got you, Pete.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter gasped out, “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Tony murmured.

Peter made a high-pitched sound. “I wasn’t- I was fine. I didn’t- why am I crying now?”

Tony rested his head against Peter’s. “I wish I knew.”

Peter sniffled. “I’m so tired. I just want it all to stop.”

Tony swallowed and ignored the pounding in his ears. “I know.”

Peter slumped against him, letting himself become deadweight in Tony’s arms, trusting the man to hold him.

Peter sniffled as he pulled back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“I made some hot chocolate for you,” Tony offered, “I know you, uh, like warm drinks.”

Tony would have cringed at his awkwardness but he was too busy celebrating Peter’s small smile.

“Thanks,” Peter rasped, reaching for the mug. Tony had only filled it up a little over halfway; a good idea, Tony mused as he watched the liquid slosh in the mug.

Tony resisted the urge to help Peter hold the mug steady. He was treading a thin line any time he tried to take care of Peter.

Not doing anything was out of the question, if Peter came to him upset then he was going to do everything in his power to make it right or to make it easier. But, if he did too much then Peter would get defensive and begin closing himself off.

The dull thunk of Peter setting the mug down pulled Tony from his thoughts. Peter’s jaw was set as he stared off into space.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Peter blinked. “You’re a billionaire, you and I both know you can do better than a penny.”

Tony felt a small twinge of relief. “Fine. How about-”

“I don’t think I can shower,” Peter interrupted.

Tony blinked and nodded.

“I don’t even think I can stand.” Peter lifted his shaky hands. “At least, not for long.”

“That’s okay,” Tony said, “Well, not okay but we’ll figure it out.”

“You can turn the lamp on, now,” Peter said, “I feel a bit better.”

Tony nodded and stood. “Alright, I’ll give you a warning before I turn it on.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” Peter apologized, sounding a bit distant and unsure.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony dismissed, pawing at the lamp for a second before he found the switch, “Are you ready?”

“You’re good,” Peter answered, even as he let out a grunt at the sudden influx of light.

Tony kept his hand on the switch and his eyes on Peter. He ignored the way his own eyes burned at the sudden brightness in favor of cataloging every detail he could about his kid.

Peter was a shade or three paler than usual making the dark circles under his eyes stand out more than ever, his eyes were red and swollen, his lips were chapped and there was a cut on his bottom lip.

There was blood along his hairline.

“Tony?” Peter called, his eyes squinted as he looked at Tony and thus directly at the light.

Tony stepped in front of the lamp and didn’t miss the way Peter’s face lost a bit of tension. “Sorry, just taking in the view.” He gestured to the kid, making a frame with his hands. “Mona Lisa who?”

“I’m going to hit you.” There was no weight to Peter’s threat. “I know I look terrible.”

Tony shrugged and moved to sit beside Peter. “Looks aren’t everything, kid.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, easy for you to say.”

“Whatever, let’s not get into this right now,” Tony said, “Let’s get back on track: food.”

Peter looked a bit queasy. “I don’t know if I can stomach anything else right now.”

“That’s okay,” Tony brought out his phone, “I can have Happy get you one of those sandwiches you like, and you can eat it later, how’s that sound?”

Peter nodded. “Will you eat, too?”

“Yeah,” Tony relented under the weight of Peter’s pleading eyes, “I skipped lunch, after all.”

Peter frowned. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wasn’t hungry.” Not a lie. He’d been too panicked, and still kind of was, to even entertain the thought of eating.

“You know what I like?” Peter asked, leaning against Tony.

“Of course, I do.” Tony’s scoff lacked any heat, “I even remember that you like it as flat as possible.” He typed out the message and sent it off to Happy.

Silence hung over them for a moment.

Tony decided to break the silence when Peter started biting his thumb. Carefully, he wrapped his hand around Peter’s wrist and pulled it away from his mouth. “What’s on your mind?”

“I kind of want to claw my skin off,” Peter said, pulling at the hoodie. “I feel gross.”

Tony knew the feeling.

“I need to shower, but I can’t shower because I can’t even fucking stand. I got tired just sitting up.” Peter clenched his jaw and dug his nails into his palms. “How did I let it get this bad?”

Tony doesn’t think he was supposed to hear the last part. He pondered over what he should say for a long moment. Should he offer his help, should he ask Peter if he was even allowed to offer, should he reassure him?

“I’m sorry for dumping this on you.”

ERRR. Time’s up!

“You’re not dumping anything on me,” Tony insisted, feeling a bit frantic.

Peter shrugged and tried to lift himself off Tony’s shoulder.

Tony cupped Peter’s neck with his hand and pulled him back down. “If this was me, you wouldn’t be letting me apologize.”

Peter rubbed his forehead on Tony’s shoulder. “That’s different.”

“How?” Tony questioned. “You always tell me there’s no shame in asking and accepting help, so how come there is when it’s you?”

Peter opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it, then groaned. “I hate when you make good points. You know that, right?”

“Aw, don’t say that. That means you hate me all the time. You know, because I’m always making good points.”

“No,” Peter denied, “And I never said that I hated you.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony was tempted to just pull the hood off. “Can I take the hood off?”

Peter froze.

“It’s okay if you say no,” Tony rushed out, desperate not to undo their progress.

Peter slowly relaxed back against his shoulder, nodding his head in a short jerk.

Tony pulled the hood off and couldn’t stop himself from sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“I’m okay, now. I just…haven’t been able to wash my hair,” Peter said, “The blood came from a different wound.”

Tony moved so that Peter’s head was resting more on his chest than his shoulder, letting him get a better look at his hair. The blood was centered on the back of his head, almost like he’d been lying in a pool of it.

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting down from ten as he fought against the nausea.

Peter traced invisible patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m okay, now.”

“Fuck.” Tony let out a ragged breath. “I’m so sorry, kid. I never should have left.”

Peter only shrugged. “You can’t predict when shit like this is going to happen, Tony. It’s not your fault.”

Yes, it is.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Tony suggested.

Peter’s brows furrowed as he let Tony manhandle him. “Um, did you miss the whole part when I said I’m too weak?”

“You could always shower sitting down?” Tony suggested.

Peter sighed. “I don’t have it in me, right now. If it’s-”

“It’s only bothering me because you’re uncomfortable and I want to help you,” Tony interrupted, knowing exactly where that sentence was headed.

“You are helping me,” Peter said, “You just being here is helping.”

Tony was distantly aware of the way Peter’s thumb idly swept over the pulse point on his wrist. “Would it be horribly overstepping if I offered to wash your hair?”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he recoiled a bit. Before he could retract the offer, “Tony, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know, Peter,” Tony assured, “I’m offering because I want to. If I wash your hair, do you think you’ll have the strength to wash your body?”

Peter considered it. “Yeah. I should.”

“Great. Then it’s settled.”

It was a bit of a struggle to get both of them into a standing position.

“Sorry.” Peter winced when his knees buckled underneath his weight.

“Jeez, kid,” Tony grumbled, readjusting his grip, “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“I’d, uh, rather not answer.”

Tony felt alarm bells blaring. “God, kid, what the hell happened?”

Once in the bathroom, Peter reached out to the bathroom counter and, with minimal help from Tony, sat atop it and slumped to rest his upper back on the wall.

“It was just…one thing after another,” Peter revealed, “And I spiraled.”

Tony frowned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Peter denied.

“I figured.” At least Tony could say that he tried. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m always here.”

Tony flipped on the water and, after a few tries, managed to get the water warm. He was abruptly reminded that he’d yet to take off his suit jacket when the cuffs got wet. “Why am I still wearing this?”

Peter slowly peeled himself up from where he’d been slumped against the wall. “I’m not sure.”

Tony huffed and tossed the jacket into the corner of the room. “Do you need-”

“I can take it off myself,” Peter declared, shooting a pointed look at Tony.

Tony held up his hands. “Alright, just offering.”

Peter took a deep breath before struggling to pull off the jacket, flinging it into the corner next to Tony’s jacket.

Tony winced at the bandaging. “How old is that?”

“I don’t know. Can’t remember,” Peter admitted, barely glancing at the bandages wrapped around his torso. “There might also be stitches in my shoulder, but I can’t remember.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “What?!”

Peter didn’t protest when Tony maneuvered him to get a better look at his shoulder. “I’m not sure what thread was used. I think I grabbed the dissolving kind but…I don’t know. I was kind of out of it.”

Tony rubbed both shoulders and only felt mildly comforted when he couldn’t see or feel anything. “I don’t see any. You’re good.”

Peter sighed in relief.

Did you do them yourself? Tony bit back the question.

“Let’s get the other bandages off,” Tony muttered, the only warning he gave before unwrapping the one around his torso.

“I’ve got one on my thigh, but I think I’ll be able to get it off if you help steady me.”

“Alright, I’ve got you,” Tony promised.

Peter took a deep breath and let himself slide off the counter. “Thanks.”

Tony looked away as Peter kicked off the sweatpants.

“Alright, that’s all I’m willing to take off,” Peter said.

“Understandable,” Tony assured as he led them to the shower.

“This is embarrassing,” Peter announced after a moment of nothing but the sound of water hitting the tile.

“It’s just me, Pete,” Tony reminded.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter mumbled, “That’s part of the reason it’s so embarrassing.”

If Tony hadn’t focused on helping Peter step over the tub wall and making sure neither of them slipped, then he would have responded.

“I mean, I should be able to wash hair. I’m almost nineteen years old and I can’t wash my hair? What’s up with that?” With Tony’s help, Peter was able to gently sit on the tiled flooring of the shower.

“Woah woah woah, slow down,” Tony interrupted, “Let’s not talk about how old you’re getting, makes me feel old.”

“You’re not that old, Tony,” Peter pointed out, leaning forward to submerge himself in the water.

“Say that to my joints,” He muttered as he perched on the wall of the tub. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to wash your hair.”

Peter sighed. “You don’t have to, Tony.”

“Peter,” Tony interjected, “Let me help you. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to, if I didn’t want to.”

Peter chewed on his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, kid, I’m sure.” Tony eyed Peter’s white knuckle grip on his drawn-up legs. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Peter said, his shoulders nearly up to his ears.

Tony only nodded and grabbed the shampoo bottle. “Coconut?” He remarked, “New scent?”

“It was on sale,” Peter answered, hissing a bit when Tony’s hands began to lather the shampoo into his hair.

“Still good?” Tony asked.

“Yep.” Peter leaned into his hands. “Just- wasn’t expecting it.”

Tony made a small noise of acknowledgment, focusing on scrubbing and getting as much grime as he could. “Alright, lean forward, it’s time to rinse it out.”

Peter sighed when the spray hit his scalp. Tony pretended not to notice how the soap and water were red-tinged.

“Now, it’s time for round two. I’ve got a majority of the blood out, I think.”

Peter let out a breath and leaned back. This time he didn’t flinch when Tony’s hands, holding more shampoo, made contact with his scalp.

Now that most of the blood was out, it was easier for Tony to lather the shampoo into his kid’s hair. “Do you think you have enough hair for a mohawk?”

“I’d rather not find out,” Peter slurred, his chin resting on his knees.

“You’re no fun,” Tony complained.

Peter huffed, his hand coming up to rub his face. “My face feels gross.”

“I’ll bet.” In the background, Tony’s phone buzzed. “You can wash it when I’m done. Lean forward.”

Tony carded his fingers through Peter’s hair, helping rinse out the shampoo. Aside from the soap, the water ran clear. “Now it’s time for conditioner.”

“Oh, I don’t have any.”

“What?” Tony cried. “No conditioner?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t need conditioner.”

“You’re playing with me.” Tony refused to believe this.

“Nope.”

“This is just- wow. I can’t believe this.”

“The only time I use condition is if it comes with the shampoo.” Tony knew he meant in the two-in-one way.

“You’re saying this to torture me, I know you are.”

“I am.” Peter leaned his head back to grin at him. “I’ve got some conditioner under the bathroom sink. I just don’t care enough to use it.”

Tony scoffed and dried his hands on his pants. “I knew it.” When Tony returned to the tub, Peter was resting his cheek on his knees, watching him. The previous tension was nowhere to be seen. “Head up, kid, one last step, and then we’re done.”

Peter let Tony move his head and leaned into the fingers gently carding through his hair, carefully pulling and detangling the few knots he could. “I’ll help you brush it after.” Tony paused. “If you want, of course.”

Peter shrugged. “I need to get my hair cut.”

Tony let some of Peter’s hair curl around his finger. “It is getting a bit long.”

“Just…haven’t found time. Or money.”

“Okay, well, just know if you shave it and deprive me of the privilege to ruffle your hair, I will be devastated.”

Peter snorted. “Noted.”

“Lean forward, kiddo.”

Peter hummed as Tony rinsed out his hair, gently carding his fingers through it, just to be sure he got all the conditioner out. After a minute, he removed his hands.

“You’re all set, Pete.” Tony stood from where he’d been sitting. “Now all you have to do is wash off. Can you do that?”

Peter gave him a thumbs-up. “Can you grab me a change of clothes?” Then looked up to the wall with a sigh. “I can’t be bothered,” he muttered before shooting a web and yanking the exfoliating net.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you can do that,” Tony remarked.

Peter held the net under the water. “I’d say I forget too, but that’d be a lie.”

“Also, you know I would have just grabbed it for you?”

“You can grab the soap for me.” Peter pointed at the container.

Tony handed it to him. “Anything else?”

Peter looked up at him expectantly. “Just some privacy.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony stepped back. “Want me to pull the curtain?”

“Please? I think I might pull it down if I try.”

Tony nodded and pulled the curtain. “Just let me know when you’re done.”

“Sure.”

.

Once Tony was out of the bathroom, he pulled out his phone. Happy had texted saying he left the sandwiches just inside of the apartment.

Tony took a quick detour to move the sandwiches to the bedroom and then grabbed the spare change of clothes he’d already had lying out.

He distracted himself with his email as he waited for Peter to finish his shower.

“Shit,” Peter’s swore accompanied a dull thud.

“Peter?” Tony was pushing open the bathroom door.

“Don’t you know it’s not cool to barge into a bathroom without knocking,” Peter criticized, sitting on the tub wall with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Tony ignored him. “What happened?”

“I accidentally knocked over the bottle of conditioner.” Peter pointed to the bottle on the ground. Luckily it wasn’t busted, it just had to be picked up.

“I thought I told you to tell me when you were finished?” Tony asked although it was more of a reminder.

“And I was about to,” Peter said, “All I did was stand, wrap a towel around my waist, and then sit.”

“Alright,” Tony relented.

“Besides, I’m sticky, which makes it pretty hard to slip,” Peter pointed out.

Tony begrudgingly nodded and grabbed a towel. “I’ll dry your hair a bit. Just enough to make it stop dripping.”

Peter hummed when the towel made contact. “You know, you’d make a good dad.”

Tony froze.

“Or a good caretaker,” Peter continued, oblivious, “‘Cause, I mean, you’ve got this stuff down.”

Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat. “It’s you.”

“Huh?”

“It’s because it’s you,” Tony clarified.

Because Tony would never be a good dad, not when he was already following in Howard’s footsteps in one of the most crucial ways—he couldn’t even tell his kid that he loved him. But, Peter was such a good kid that it was almost too easy to pretend that maybe he could be.

“Oh.”

Tony jerked his head in a nod.

“It’s the same for me,” Peter admitted quietly, “I’m not actually…too keen on physical affection.”

Tony’s brain short-circuits. That…couldn’t be right.

Peter was always so tactile. A hand on his shoulder as he walked by, knocking his foot against his when they sat together, curling up next to him on the couch, throwing his feet into Tony’s lap, letting Tony rest against him after a long lab-binge.

Peter continued talking. “It usually makes my skin crawl and I get all prickly and tense. It got worse after the spider bite.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “I-”

“But not with you. Or Aunt May, of course. I mean sometimes when I’m overstimulated, I’ll still get all prickly but usually, you guys are good at reading the signs and— yeah.”

“So you don’t like being touched.”

“Not by just anyone, no,” Peter confirmed.

Nauseous, Tony had to ask: “Have I ever made you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Peter shook his head, “You’ve always been good about respecting my boundaries. I know I can be…all over the place sometimes, especially like I was today, but you’re always so quick to accept and readjust. Does that make sense?”

Tony slowly nodded. Still trying to process it. “How did I miss that?”

“Because I hid it from you, well not really hid but I didn’t want you to know about my touch-aversion stuff,” Peter admitted then snorted. “You would not believe the amount of articles I have consulted trying to figure out how to initiate friendly touch.”

Tony pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“Tony, don’t overthink it,” Peter reminded, “I promise, I like it when you squeeze my shoulder or when you wrap an arm around them, and all that jazz— I like it because it’s you.”

Tony allowed himself to relax. “Do you need help putting your clothes on?”

“Nope.” Peter shook his head. “I should be good. I might need some help walking but I should be good with at least standing.”

Tony handed over the clothes he’d forgotten he was clutching. “No more hiding stuff, okay? Especially stuff like that.”

Peter smiled his eyes flicking away. “Sure.”

.

Once dressed and safely on the bed, this time Tony had stayed in the bathroom, just with his back turned to Peter.

“I’m really feeling the trust, right now,” Peter deadpanned as he shuffled into his clothes.

“Just a safety precaution, Pete.”

“Think you’re ready to give food a try?” Tony asked, holding up the sandwich to him.

Peter looked a little nervous before tentatively grabbing it from him. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Just eat it slow,” Tony suggested, “I’ll go get you some water.”

Peter glared at the sandwich and set it back down.

Tony paused in the doorway. “What’re you doing?”

His kid had the audacity to look at him as if he was the one behaving oddly. “What?”

Tony’s eyes flicked to the sandwich and then back up to his, pointedly. “I thought you were going to try to eat?”

“I am,” Peter nodded, “I’m just waiting for you.”

Tony shook his head and, instead of fighting the kid, hurried to grab him some water. “There, I’m back, now start eating.”

Peter lifted the sandwich…and then set it back down again. “Do you want a bite?”

“No, Peter, I want you to eat the sandwich.” Tony unwrapped his own sandwich. “I have my own.”

Peter worried his lip.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked, “Are you not hungry? Is there something wrong with the food?”

Peter scratched his neck. “I don’t know.”

“Peter,” Tony drawled.

“I’m serious!” Peter shook his head. “Just eat your sandwich.”

“I will as soon as you eat yours.”

Peter blinked at him. “Tony, I need you to eat your sandwich.”

“Why?” Tony kept his hands on his sandwich so he didn't tear his hair out.

“Please, just eat the sandwich.”

Tony held out for all of ten seconds. “Ugh. Fine. Whatever it takes to get you to eat.”

Tony made it through two mouthfuls before his jaw was complaining. “Why the fuck do they put so much on these sandwiches?”

Peter shrugged and finally picked his sandwich back up. “It’s pretty filling. That’s why I like going there. I always get my money’s worth.”

Tony waited for Peter to take a bite of his sandwich before setting his own down.

“Sorry, Tony,” Peter apologized around his mouthful.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Tony let his jaw rest before taking another bite, a normal sized bite that wouldn’t destroy his jaw.

“Usually I’m a lot better at ignoring it,” Peter said.

“This is a recurring thing?”

“Kind of?” Peter shrugged. “I always just chalked it up to a spider thing and left it at that since it didn’t really impact my life.”

Tony remembers when Peter kept his spider stuff under lock and key. Remembers when Peter had admitted, ashamed and embarrassed, that sometimes the only way he could calm down was by curling up somewhere dark and isolated.

And now Peter was freely talking about it.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” Tony asked.

“And you’re a goose on the loose.” How Peter managed to say that with a straight face, Tony doesn’t know.

Peter finished his sandwich before Tony.

“Do you want the rest?” Tony asked, holding out the last quarter of his sandwich. He wasn’t the one who decided to partake in an impromptu fast with an enhanced metabolism while healing.

“Nah, I want you to eat it.”

“I’m full.” A little white lie never hurt anyone.

“Then we’ll save it for later,” Peter suggested, rubbing his wrist.

“I won’t want it later,” Tony argued, pushing the sandwich at Peter, “Take it or I throw it away.”

“No, you won’t.” Peter narrowed his eyes.

“If I save it for later, then you’ll eat it or it’ll rot. So, either way, you eat it or it goes to waste.”

Peter clenched his jaw. “You’re mean.”

“Mean?!”

“You know my senses won’t pick up whether you’re lying or not,” Peter complained.

Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t need them because I’m not lying. I don’t want the rest of this sandwich.”

Peter considered him for a long moment. “You promise?”

“Pinky swear,” Tony said, waving the sandwich, “Now take it.”

“Fine.” Peter devoured the sandwich in three bites. It didn’t escape Tony that his blinks were getting increasingly longer.

Tony dusted his hands off and brushed any crumbs off the bed. “Now, it’s time for the main event.”

Peter raised a brow.

“It’s sleep,” Tony answered, “In a bed. A very comfortable bed, might I add.”

Peter looked a little queasy at the mention. “I’m fine. Sleep was, like, all I’ve been doing.”

“In a bed?” Tony asked.

Peter swallowed. “No, but I did get some hours on the couch before I…anyway. I’m not tired.”

Tony felt his brows pull together. “Peter, you look exhausted.”

“Only mentally.”

Did Peter really need to fight him on every little thing?

“C’mon, Pete, cut me some slack.” Tony groaned. “I just came home from one of the worst business trips of my life.”

“That feels a bit dramatic.” Peter moved his feet so Tony could sprawl on the bed.

“You mispronounced very accurate,” Tony stretched, “Those people in the reviews must’ve been staying at another hotel, because that bed was the absolute worst.”

He felt a little guilty at the concern that crossed Peter’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Tony yelped and threw a pointed finger into Peter’s face. “No, no sorries. The only thing I want to hear from you is of course, Tony, we can call it an early night.”

Peter brightened and didn't comment on the way Tony had exaggeratedly pitched up his voice. “You’ll stay?”

“I’ve had enough traveling today,” Tony answered, “Now budge over.”

Peter did not move over, as directed, instead, he’d climbed out of bed on unsteady legs.

Tony shot off the bed to steady the kid. “This is not what I meant, by the way.”

“I know,” Peter glared at Tony, “I can walk now that I’ve eaten, you know?”

“Humor me.”

Peter huffed and let Tony hover as he made his way to the dresser.

“You don’t like your clothes?”

“This isn’t for me,” Peter grabbed a familiar shirt and then a very familiar pair of pants and set them on top of the dresser, “These are for you. Unless you’d prefer to sleep in a suit, of course.”

“Why do you have these?” He asked, only out of curiosity. He found he didn't really care if Peter had taken it from his closet.

Hurt flashed across Peter’s face before it smoothed over. “You let me borrow them after the incident with the sludge.”

“Oh, yeah!” Tony winced when the memory came back. “Why did I let you talk me into that experiment?”

Peter’s face scrunched. “I told you it was a bad idea!”

Tony waved his hand. “Whatever, that’s all behind us now. Anyway, you get in bed and I’ll go change.”

“Fine.” Peter stepped toward the bed. “You know where the spare toothbrush is?”

“Is it where it always is?” Tony asked and waited for Peter to nod, “Then yes.”

Peter nudged him when it became apparent Tony wasn’t going to stop hovering. “What the hell are you waiting for? Go get changed.”

“I’m waiting for you to get in the bed instead of just staring at it.”

“I’m not just staring at it! I’m calculating the best way to go about fixing the blankets, jeez!” Peter defended.

“What’s wrong with the blankets? They look fine to me.”

Peter shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “Everything. Everything is wrong with these blankets.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest.

“Don’t worry about it, though, I’ll fix them.” Peter cracked his knuckles before fussing with them.

“Okay,” Tony accepted, “You do that, Pete. Whatever you need to feel comfortable.”

“Not just me!” Peter called. “I gotta make it right for you, too.”

.

Tony dropped his clothes in the corner. “Peter, remind me to take those with me when I leave.”

Nothing.

“Pete?” He approached the bed and laughed when he saw Peter. “Not tired my ass.”

Peter was conked out, face lax with sleep, his chest slowly and evenly rising and falling. But, to his credit, there was now a very comfortable-looking space next to Peter on the bed.

“You’ll stay?”

Tony sighed and climbed into the bed. His arm slid under Peter’s head and the other fiddled with the blanket until they were both covered.

Peter curled into him, pillowing his head on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony held back for all of ten seconds before letting his hand card through Peter’s hair.

It was his fault.

If Tony had never left for the business meeting, if Tony had never tried to avoid Peter, then this wouldn’t have happened.

What if Peter hadn’t sent that message? What if Tony hadn’t asked FRIDAY to retrieve the deleted message?

Happy would have checked on him, again, or Aunt May, he reminded himself.

What had even happened?

Peter mentioned that it had been one thing after another.

Did Tony cause this?

“Do you really think he won’t notice?”

Tony took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Pete.”

Peter didn’t stir. Maybe that’s why he kept talking. “I wish you would’ve called me sooner, but I get why you didn’t.”

Tony swallowed and turned to press his lips against Peter’s hair. “I want to tell you I love you,” He admitted, his hand carding through Peter’s damp curls. “I wish I could tell you that I think of you like my kid without ruining everything.”

Tony ran his fingers through Peter's curls, gently detangling whatever knots he came across.

“I’m sorry for being me.”

-

Tony groaned as he felt consciousness begin to creep in.

“Are you awake?” Peter asked.

“Unfortunately,” Tony grumbled, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Why’re the curtains open? It’s too bright.”

“It’s already ten and I’m doing some spring cleaning.”

“Too early for that.”

“No, it’s not. I won’t have time to do it later,” Peter insisted, “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Does a fish want water, Peter?”

“You’re so grouchy,” Peter complained, “I let you sleep in and everything.”

Tony pried his eyes open. “Why’re you still here? I thought coffee was offered to me?”

“It was, and it’s on the table next to the bed.”

Tony pushed himself up into a sitting position, cracking his back and shoulders as he stretched. “Are you actually cleaning?” He asked as he reached for his coffee.

“Of course, I am.”

Tony chugged the coffee and watched as Peter worked. Flitting between folding and cramming clothes away, stacking books and organizing papers, and shoving things in the trash.

“Hey, what’s that?”

Peter faltered just long enough for Tony to confirm they were, in fact, wilted flowers before stuffing them into the trash bag. “It’s nothing.”

Tony wanted to comment on it but the firm pointed look Peter shot him had him go back to sipping on his coffee.

He’d find out later.

He couldn’t believe he’d missed them yesterday, but, then again there had been a lot going on. “You’re a bundle of sunshine today.”

Peter whipped around to stare at him for a long moment before going back to cleaning with renewed vigor. “If I don’t do this now, I don’t know when I will. Plus, I’ve got pent energy I need to get out except I’m not exactly strong enough to do anything.”

Tony hummed and placed the empty mug on the table. “Don’t hurt yourself, kid.”

Peter froze and then snatched the trash. “I’m gonna go take the trash out. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Tony blinked as Peter tore out of the room. “Guess he wasn’t kidding about that pent-up energy.” He knew an opportunity when he saw one, though.

He stood and hobbled to where the flowers had been and—nice, the tag fell. Tony crouched and picked up the dropped tag.

Purple hyacinths .

He made a mental note to look up the meaning later, in the meantime, he slid the tag into his wallet before going to the bathroom.

When he came out, Peter had moved into the kitchen, tackling the dishes that had been in the sink.

Tony reclined on the couch, scrolling through the new emails Pepper had flagged for him, and pretended he wasn’t watching Peter.

Peter’s motions would slow to a stop, he would worry his lip as his eyes glazed over as if he was in deep thought, then he would shake his head and continue cleaning. Then the cycle would repeat.

Something was on Peter’s mind.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Tony suggested. He’d waited until Peter had mostly calmed down. Now the kid was laying on the floor as he scrolled through something on his laptop.

“Huh?”

He was going to get to the bottom of this.“We’ll go out, get some fresh air and maybe churros, and then we can buy you some new flowers. Hyacinths, right?”

Peter recoiled, almost like he’d been stricken, and then buried himself back in his laptop. “That’s not necessary. The, um, flowers, that is.”

Tony opened his mouth.

“I thought I told you they were nothing,” Peter added.

“Sorry, the tag fell and I saw,” He said.

Peter nodded but otherwise didn’t react.

“So, is that a no?” Tony prompted when Peter didn’t answer.

“About what?” Peter asked.

“The walk?” Tony reminded he felt his brows pull together, “Are you okay?”

“Yes! I’m just busy. Swamped, actually, just- up to my ears,” Peter rambled, “Exams to study for, assignments I need to turn in before the deadline, and Jameson wants photos of Spider-Man.”

“If you say so,” Tony allowed.

“But, uh, we can go out.” Peter paused, his eyes narrowing on something in the distance before perking up. “Yes, let’s go out. Right now. I’ll go pull on some shoes.”

Yeah. Something was going on with Peter.

.

Tony didn’t know why he thought going out in public would make anything better. Peter looked worse and had just narrowly avoided tripping and falling flat on his face.

“Watch it!” The man cried.

Tony scowled at the man but, ultimately, turned back to help his kid reorient himself. “How about we stop at the diner just up the street?”

Peter stared at the ground. “Sounds good.”

Tony let his eyes drift over to Peter every now and then, mostly to make sure the kid was still keeping up. “Hopefully it’ll be quieter in there.”

“Maybe,” Peter said, keeping his head down.

Tony frowned and reached up to squeeze his shoulder. “Happens to the best of us, kid, I’ve tripped and actually fell on my face more times than I can count.”

Peter’s shoulders were up to his ears.

Tony resisted the urge to sigh, turning his head to face forward.

The rest of the walk to the diner was silent. Peter was clearly feeling overwhelmed, Tony regretted his offer. After over a week of holing himself in a dark apartment, this was no doubt too much.

“Is this better?” Tony asked, handing Peter a menu.

Peter nodded and promptly buried himself into the menu.

Tony sighed and pulled the menu down so that he could look at Peter.

Peter looked everywhere except his eyes. “I think the waiter is about to come back,” He mumbled, “So I should probably look at the menu.”

“Is this about yesterday?”

“No,” Peter answered, his nose scrunching slightly.

Tony hummed. “You’re lying.”

Peter flipped the menu back up between them. Tony hadn’t even noticed him steal it back.

“It’s upside down,” Tony pointed out.

“I knew that,” Peter said as he righted the menu, “Maybe I was just practicing my reading upside-down skills.”

Tony laughed and plucked the menu back out of his hands, this time moving both of the menus out of reach.

“Are you embarrassed?” Tony guessed. He could relate to the feeling, on too many occasions he’d felt ashamed for being vulnerable, desperately wishing the ground would just swallow him whole. “Come on, work with me, kid.”

Peter banged his knee on the table. “I have to go to the bathroom!”

Tony watched him speedwalk before dropping his head into his hand.

Maybe it was something to do with him? Had he ever apologized for his abrupt departure?

He didn’t really know why that would warrant this reaction. Although, maybe it was a combination of things?

“Hey,” Peter slid back into the booth, his hairline was damp, “Sorry about that.”

“All good, Pete,” Tony said, he rested his folded hands on the table and leaned forward, “Look, I’m sorry for just disappearing.”

Peter hesitated before gently patting Tony’s hands, finally lifting his gaze to meet Tony’s. “It’s alright, Tony. Really,” He insisted.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?”

Peter shrugged. “If I say yes, will we be able to move on?”

Tony frowned and felt only a little bad when Peter wilted like the flowers in the trash. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But if it’s something about me, you know you can tell me, right?”

“I know,” Peter said, his hand coming up to run through his hair, “It’s just- so many things, you know?”

“Okay,” Tony accepted, “But don’t let me be one of them, got it?” He pointedly kicked Peter’s shoe under the table.

Peter’s smile was small but genuine as he looked at Tony. “Sounds good to me. Next time DUM-E tries to poison you, I’ll just let him. Might even be good for my mental health.”

Tony threw the menu at him. “Just for that, your lab privileges are revoked.”

“Oh, no!” Peter cried with an exaggerated look of helplessness, “Whatever will I do?!”

.

“I feel like you’re looking at me more than the flowers,” Tony mumbled, just loud enough for Peter to hear him.

Peter huffed. “I’m thinking.”

“That explains the smoke.”

Peter knocked him on the arm. “Just grab what you want so we can get a move on.”

“What I want?” Tony raised a brow, “I’m here for you.”

Peter raised a brow. “Me? I don’t need anything from here. Not right now anyway.”

“You don’t wanna replace your hyacinths?”

Peter frowned and looked away. “No, I- those were the wrong ones.”

Peter’s eyes scanned the store, he lingered on a few flowers before settling on a bright yellow flower— a daffodil.

Tony waited for Peter to purchase the flowers only to then act shocked. “For me? Peter, you shouldn’t have.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“What do they mean?” Tony found himself asking.

“Look it up,” Peter answered and set the flowers on the little display stand outside of the store so Tony could pick them up. “You’re gonna need to research them, anyway, if you want to put them in your little garden.”

“Yeah, but you know I like instant gratification.”

Peter smiled and shrugged. “Not my problem.”

At the completely wrong moment, Tony lifted his head, eyes scanning the area and he froze.

“Tony?” Peter asked, stepping closer, “What’s wrong?”

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders and forced himself to look away from the man. “What’s Barnes doing in Queens? Shouldn’t he be in Brooklyn?”

Peter tensed in his arms, his gaze flicked over to Barnes before he turned back to him, no longer meeting his eyes. “Who knows, who cares? Let’s just go.”

Tony found himself nodding as he began leading Peter away. “Hey, Pete, how do you feel about Mexican food?
“Oh my God, funny you should say that! A friend of mine just introduced me to this place. It’s a bit out of the way, but, it is so worth it.”