Work Text:
Knock-knock.
“Hi,” Mr. Stark pops in. “You didn’t come and say hi.”
“… Hi.”
“Hi. You okay?”
“Yeah…” Peter yawns and stretches his arms. “I’m just a bit tired, Mr. Stark.”
“I can tell. Have you been staying up too late? Playing videogames? Studying? Reading comics? As far as I know you’re not staying past curfew as Spidey.”
“No, no, it’s none of that. I’m sleeping just fine, Mr. Stark. I just… really needed a bed right now.”
As his mentor stands there, in the doorway, Peter thinks it over for a moment and shakes his head.
“Sorry, I’ll- I’ll get up. I didn’t come all the way here just to nap, right?”
“Hold on, kid. You work hard, I know you do, as Peter Parker and as Spider-Man. You definitely need some rest. I just wanted to know what you were up to since F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t say you were sleeping. It’s alright, you can go back to sleep, kiddo.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’ll be in the workshop. Call me or FRI if you need, alright? For anything, really, such as snacks.”
“Okay, Mr. Stark.”
When Peter considers opening his mouth, the man closes the door and leaves him be. Peter isn’t sure why, but he’s a little disappointed. Disappointed at what, exactly? At Mr. Stark? For respecting his space? For leaving him alone and sick, in some way? No, Peter isn’t sick, he thinks.
Now Peter can’t sleep at all.
All Peter wanted today was silence.
The chaos of the New York public transport really solidified his bad mood. It was so crowded and noisy, Peter couldn’t stand up to some of the rude passengers. Some guy bumped into him so hard that Peter fell on the floor. It almost felt like it was on purpose and the guy just straight up did not apologize. Hell, and this was outside of school.
At school, the same thing happened but Flash was the one doing it instead. Peter got his English quiz back. His grade was less than satisfactory. Not horrible, but he felt stupid. He couldn’t stop Flash from finding that out and making him feel worse.
Somehow, Peter was able to mask it well. Ned asked if he was alright, but Peter managed to smile and talk about other things, so his best friend didn’t question further. Peter managed to mask his discomfort at the loud cafeteria. His eyes were heaving on him all day, too, like he would pass out at any moment.
It was very relieving when he was inside Happy’s car. Finally, quiet, the A/C… Peter did talk a bit to Happy but then he put on his earphones and listened to music. Halfway, the boy was napping in the car. Happy grumpily said he wouldn’t carry Peter outside, so the teen snapped out of it and left the car. However, Happy seemed to stare at him for a while, maybe in concern, before quickly saying bye and leaving the Compound.
Now, it’s quiet and nice, and his bed feels like heaven. This room looks nicer now, with some of his posters here and changes of clothes. Feels less like a guest room and more like his own room.
Problem is, now Peter’s mind keeps him wide awake, even though he’s utterly exhausted. There’s something missing. Something that would probably help him feel safer.
He turns and turns. To the wall, to his desk and his laptop, his clothes hanging on the chair…
Peter’s eyes are heavy and his chest is tight.
Why won’t he relax now, if he got what he wanted?
…
Peter turns back to the ceiling. His hand is clutching the blanket, right where his chest is located. Oxygen won’t quite get in, for some reason.
He gulps. He thinks, overthinks. His mind won’t shut up.
Peter looks at the time on his phone, and it makes him more anxious. It seems to pass so slowly.
Clutching his blanket tighter, Peter takes a deep, shaky breath that won’t calm him down entirely.
…
“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” He calls innocently.
“Hello, Peter.”
“Hey… uh… Is Mr. Stark busy?”
“Would you like to call him?”
“Nah, I just wanted to know… It’s not important… He probably has more going on, right?”
F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t respond. Peter sighs, turning to the wall.
He does jump slightly when the A.I. informs:
“Boss is on his way.”
Peter hides his face. “Thanks…”
Now what is he going to say? Why does he need Mr. Stark here?
He groans into his pillow for a few seconds.
Not too long after, he hears the knocking again.
“Hey, kid. You called me?”
“Um… Kinda?”
“‘Kinda’?” Mr. Stark sounds amused. “So, whatcha need?”
I don’t know, Peter thinks, but he can’t answer that. “It’s not important, really. I dunno why FRI called you, haha, I’m not hurt or anything—”
“But you wanted to see me anyway, right?”
“Well… Yeah…”
After contemplating for a bit, Mr. Stark sits on the edge of the bed, next to Peter’s feet.
“Thought we went past the shy fanboy phase at this point,” Mr. Stark jokes, rather… softly. “So, what is it? You missed me? Are you bored? No need to be ashamed, kid.”
Peter hides deeper in the blanket, curling into a ball.
“I don’t even know, Mr. Stark. My day was just crappy, I wanted quiet all day, and now that I’m here… I can’t sleep anymore. I’m so tired but something is keeping me up… Like I’m not safe unless…”
Sighing, he sits on the bed, still holding onto his blanket.
“… It’s like something is missing,” Peter describes.
“Hm. Like what?”
The boy shrugs.
He stares at the floor, like gravity is pushing him down.
Suddenly, Mr. Stark sits closer to him.
“Could it be someone?” He suggests, wrapping an arm around Peter, squeezing the latter’s shoulder lightly.
The touch is like… a reminder. Like it was something lost in time and chaos, both outside and inside Peter’s head. It feels real and it doesn’t feel suffocating or invasive, like the assholes that bumped into him today and made him feel like not existing. The squeeze on his shoulder does the opposite; Peter wants to exist, to feel it, to remind himself he’s not worthless.
And with that, his eyes start growing deep, and he lies on Mr. Stark’s shoulder without realizing.
“D’aww,” the man says, wrapping both arms around Peter. “It’s alright, kiddo.”
Peter clings to him, he wraps around Mr. Stark like the blanket. The latter caresses the former’s back, and sort of rocks them both side to side.
“Is this weird?” Peter asks.
“No, of course not.”
“Mmm.”
“Everyone needs this sometimes.”
“… I guess I feel safe around you.”
When Peter lets that out, he shivers at the same time Mr. Stark stops caressing his back. But before Peter can push away and apologize and run, Mr. Stark probably reads his mind and hugs Peter closer.
“You can rely on me with anything, kid. Anything,” the hero reassures.
Peter realizes the tightness in his chest seems to loosen a little.
“… Thank you.”