Chapter Text
The first time Peter is ever truly terrified is at the site of a wrecked building, rubble in all directions, and the entirety of his lower body is crushed beneath it. It's around this time that he notices he's pretty stupid for not realising that saving the world (or at least trying to) would have these kinds of consequences, and that being a superhero means you can get hurt. Contrary to (his own) popular belief, he's not invincible.
Peter regains consciousness to discover he can't move, and as his head swarms with worst-case-scenarios, his chest constricts. He can kind of feel it - the claustrophobia, the hard weight of metals and stones digging into his air space - but kind of not, almost as if he's left his body out of shock. Shallow breaths and pointless noises escape his lips, crossed between cries for help and gasps of pain. His vision blurs in and out of focus and his muscles twitch with a burning he scarcely registers.
"Hello," he croaks, tries to shout, but his voice is weak. Like he's swallowed a mouthful of dust. Now he understands how Rose must have felt in 'Titanic' when she heard the boats coming back to rescue the survivors - the freezing temperatures preventing her from screaming at the top of her lungs, and how incredibly irritating more than anything that would have been. Peter can barely whisper. He wishes he had a whistle, could call someone to turn back around and notice him. Rose was saved in the end, so maybe there's hope for him; hope that he can survive this.
"Hey!" He chokes on his words as his voice rises in volume. Where is everyone? Why is everything so silent? He's completely alone, and nobody even thinks anybody could be down here anyway, so what are the chances of a rescue mission - slim to none? It’s like he’s invisible, like he’s nothing without his suit to label him a hero. But Peter thinks back to the familiar words he was told: if he was nothing without his suit, he shouldn't be wearing it.
And so that's the reason he’s here. Peter can't stop hyperventilating. He really is nothing without that suit because otherwise he wouldn't be here, trapped and alone. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply before shuddering out a long breath. Maybe he doesn't need the suit, though - maybe being Spider-man with his super-strength and healing factor and whatnot is enough, and maybe he can get himself out of this providing his injuries aren't too severe. Maybe he doesn't need anyone else's help.
Peter is once again reminded that he can't move much at all, and that most parts of him, he can hardly physically feel. This could be a good sign - sometimes feeling nothing is better than feeling pain. Or is that far too optimistic? He wishes he had Karen to give him a rundown of his vitals, at least. Karen or some other genius running around in his head like...
Tony Stark.
“Mr... Stark!” He coughs out aimlessly but his shrill voice is swept up in the wind, lost in other low buzzing noises. Maybe Iron Man’s floating around, maybe he’s seen the commotion, the destruction, and reckons Peter might be a part of it. Maybe Tony cares enough to look for him. He discovers he can move his right arm - success! - and twists it so he can touch whatever is above him that's holding him down. It's cold, hard and heavy. "Mr Stark!”
He moves his arm back to where it was before, accidentally grazing a hand across his leg. It's a weird sensation. He starts as he feels something warm and wet spilling across his thigh: Blood. A lot of it.
Peter cranes his neck to finally look at himself. His make-do suit is slightly torn open - he can't even see a wound, only a firetruck red puddle slipping around on his skin like thin jelly. Peter remembers something from health class in school - if your blood from a wound is a darker crimson, you haven't struck an artery. There’s a chance for you. But this is not a darker crimson, so Peter fears his arteries won't thank him.
It's a long gash - something's probably just slashed right through it, and he can't feel a thing. Come to think of it, his entire leg's at a weird angle (probably broken). With a multitude of heavy bits of rubble all over him, he's not surprised he's pretty battered.
What would the Avengers think of him right now, lying here and bleeding to death? He can barely keep his concentration enough to ponder over it, which likely means he has a pretty bad concussion too - a concussion that's making him more than weary as the typical black dots spiral into his vision. He's passed out many times before whether it be due to missions or stupid things like dehydration, so why does it feel so different now? Why does it feel like he won't wake up again?
Peter Parker is dying under this rubble, all alone, without his suit, without saying goodbye to Aunt May or Ned or Michelle or even giving Mr Stark the finger for taking away what could be his life support (and he hopes the billionaire feels guilty). But he probably deserves it, too, all this sneaking away and worrying everybody and putting himself and others in danger all of the time. He isn't a real superhero, just a liability that's crushed into the dirt.
He lays his head back down, blinking at the stars and the dust overhead. It's a beautiful night. Those little black dots are giving him one hell of a migraine, though. His eyes flicker shut of their own accord, after the last thing he sees - an iron suit of red and gold diving down to greet him.
"Peter." Tony hurries to clear the superhero of what's lying on top of him, tossing the slabs of concrete out of the way with effort, and lands on the ground next to the injured boy. It was lucky that the bad feeling in his stomach wouldn't go away and he decided to go out to check on his protege. Not so lucky he found the kid in this current state. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., call someone, call - crap—”
"Calling ‘Cap’..."
Tony’s blood runs a little cold for a moment at the name, but he doesn't refuse it. Steve won’t pick up anyway, no way, not after what happened between them. It would be dumb, calling another Avenger when they’re broken apart and Peter is dying and it’s all pointless anyway. Tony needs paramedics to save a child’s life, not a war veteran with a shield.
Tony struggles to take his helmet off, dropping to his knees, too preoccupied with Peter to worry about the call he’s making to Steve Rogers. He dips down to press an ear to Peter's chest, listening for a heartbeat, and he lets out a strange noise of relief when he finds it, barely drumming away. Okay, that's fine. He can work with that. “Kid? Come on—”
He throws his helmet back on, reluctantly awaiting Steve's voice if he ever decides to answer, and rips a little piece of Peter's make-do suit off from the knee to tie around his bleeding leg. He carefully gathers the slumped unconscious body in his arms.
“Tony,” comes Steve's voice from the other end, surprised but not malicious. Tony can’t remember the last time he heard his voice. Weird feelings arise.
"I’m not fighting with you right now; I don’t have the time. I know you’re in the area so gather the team, search the city, I—" He doesn't know what he's asking as he takes off from the building site, horrific thoughts of doctors and defibrillators and death on his mind. "There’s something going on in the city, Cap, and I’m a little preoccupied so you’re gonna have to deal with it."
While he’s helping Peter, Tony trusts what’s left of the Avengers to help. Or, no, not the Avengers - they don't have a name anymore. Whatever the bunch of rogues want to call themselves is fine by him as long as they do something. Hammering heart and trembling muscles hidden underneath his suit, he heads for the nearest hospital. He stays optimistic by imagining what the kid will say when he wakes up: something like, "Aunt May's gonna freak when she sees the bill," to which Tony will reply, "You think I'm gonna let you pay the bill, kid?"
After all, it's Tony's fault this happened. If he had just let Peter keep the goddamn suit, this wouldn’t have happened. He tries hard not to get too angry at himself as he flies. He’s failed too many people, and his mind takes him back to the accords, and he starts to really wish Steve would’ve just agreed with him from the start.
*
Peter wakes up a day or so later, and this time there is pain. There's a hot oxygen mask across his mouth for a start and what must be needles poking into the creases of his elbows. A strangled noise comes out as he attempts to move around on the silky sheets, experiencing a particular burning in his injured thigh, one of his arms, his head and his ribs and chest area.
"Take it easy, you don't want to open up any stitches." Tony reaches over to place a gentle but firm hand on Peter's good arm, holding him in place. Peter turns to face his mentor and slowly takes off his oxygen mask, eyes wide and gaping.
"How are you feeling, kid?" Tony winces at his own dumb question.
Peter shakes his head nonetheless, flinching at the pain that shoots up through his arm to his shoulder to his neck. Thankfully he’s too drugged up for it to be overwhelming. He wouldn't want to admit it in any case.
Tony prepares himself for a horrid reaction to what he's about to say. “Peter, you have every right to be angry—”
"What happened? Did you stop The Vulture; did he get away?" Peter tries to sit up but only ends up on one good elbow, almost wheezing, his thoughts racing. “Mr Stark, how long have I...?”
Tony shoots him an incredulous look that fades into guilt. He took away Peter's suit - a decision nearly got the kid killed - and he's not even yelling at Tony like he deserves? Peter is too good for the world. "We got him. He’s out of the picture, don’t overthink it. You’ve been out just over a day. Your aunt knows you're here, she’s waiting in the lobby."
“But how did you catch him if you were trying to help me?” Peter asks, tired and confused as the meds get to him.
Tony can’t bear to go into depths about why he and Captain America aren’t on the best terms, and why exactly they were fighting against him at that airport way back when, so he summarises: “I called in a favour from a friend. I hoped I wouldn’t be hearing much more from him but... maybe you’ll see him around. Look, don't worry about it.”
Peter's eyes dazedly shift to the door then the window, seeing everything outside looks as it should - no burning or collapsed buildings, no smoke in the air, no fires in sight. He's glad but his heart seems to deflate. "I messed up," he whispers, thankfully seeming to forget about Tony’s ‘friend’.
Tony has to compose himself, unused to hearing the usually enthusiastic boy so disappointed in himself. "What? No, Peter, that's a fat lie - you didn't mess up. Why would you think that? I'm in the wrong here for not listening to you about that child-beating little c— ... oh." When Peter's eyes well up with tears, Tony has to stop to consider what to do, but in the end it’s just instinct that he beckons the kid closer and envelopes him in a hug. Tony doesn't really hug people so he doesn't know if he's comforting him or further scarring him, so he makes sure to be gentle. He doesn't do well with crying children.
“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Tony goes on awkwardly as Peter gnaws on his lip and holds back tears. He speaks in a low voice, kind of embarrassed. "Uh, you know, I’m proud of you. Without you, God knows what could've happened. You helped to save the world and a lot of people don’t get out of that alive. Anyway, I suck at compliments and I'm the one who should be sorry - you wouldn't be in here if I didn't take away your suit."
"Can I get it back?" Peter asks quietly and Tony's eyes crinkle as he makes a face then ashamedly agrees.
*
Months later, before Peter is granted permission to help in the next mission (he begs Tony to just make him a full-time Avenger already but Tony is somewhat concerned about the schoolwork he's missing, and more than anything wants to avoid the topic of the Avengers), Tony decides to have a hardly-thirty-seconds awkward talk with Steve and he sends the Captain to have a word with Spider-man about regard for his own safety. ‘Remind the guy to be careful and don’t get himself killed - and he’s young and excitable and he’s probably going to rile himself up like a fan-girl when he sees you even though he got kind of crushed when you fought him, so be prepared.’
It makes sense to pick Steve for the job as he is (... was) the leader of the Avengers, and he's proven to give good advice in the past no matter what Tony believes. Tony can't tell Peter to be cautious when they're out because Peter Parker simply does not listen to Tony Stark. Example: "What happened to the friendly neighbourhood Spider-man?" ... Yeah, what ever did happen to that guy? Totally ignored.
The only thing Tony could do was reinstall Peter's suit tracker after the superhero took the previous one out just so he can keep an eye out on the kid's location. Perhaps he's more worried than he'd like to admit, and perhaps he even cares about Peter's safety more than he realises. Either way, Tony is smug when he installs the smaller, almost-invisible tracking device that will help keep the kid safe (is it so much to ask that he keep out of harm's way when required?). It can even alert Tony if Peter's vitals go pear-shaped.
Nobody knows about the new tracker but him - certainly not Peter, and not Steve. Steve is going in blinded, thinking it's on him to protect the superhero and totally up to him to convince Spider-man that, yeah, the world may need a self-sacrificing (within limit) hero or two, but definitely not a crazy death-seeking moron. Peter is young, way too young to become anything like an Avenger as tough as he may be, and naïve. He doesn't know the world yet like Steve or even Tony unfortunately do.
And Tony was right: Peter, dressed as Spider-man, freaks out when they meet. Steve is gentle and dubious and blushing and flattered, and has to order the kid to sit down in Tony’s conference room before his heart leaps out of his chest. Steve realises that it’s likely nerves from the upcoming mission Tony’s allowed him on, and it’s his job to calm him down. But Peter isn’t just nervous, he’s also confused and irritated as to why Steve won’t answer his questions about why they fought on opposite sides the last time they saw each other.
"Uh," Steve starts after a while of confusion at the situation, "would you mind if I asked how old you are?" Behind the mask, for some reason, Steve is picturing some adolescent innocent who isn't cut out for this, and once again he internally curses Tony for everything that's happened.
Peter looks like he wants to say something about it before deciding it's a bad idea and his identity should most definitely be kept a secret. "I'd mind," he admits regretfully and neither of them bring it up again.
"You know, there’s been times I really wish I could say my goodbyes to the people I love before I go seeking something bad. It’s just that sometimes...” Steve cuts himself off, not wanting to finish the sentence with ‘sometimes they might be your last’. He’s not trying to scare the guy. He’s leaning against the doorframe as he watches the hero shoot experimental webs at the wall in the conference room, twirling around in a chair - he's still largely getting used to the hundreds of settings the advanced technology can provide.
"I always say goodbye, Mr Rogers. My friends and Aunt M- I mean, my friends think I've got some kind of foreign work experience with Mr Stark," Peter babbles excitedly, leaving out the part about his telling the truth to Ned - Ned isn't too gullible to believe the lie. Besides, his best friend already knows his secret identity. "I’m just excited to fly around in a private jet again."
He jumps up from his chair, kicking it back under the table before prancing to the door. But his smile, hidden behind his mask, drops into a half-frown of determination. “This time I'm not letting anybody down.”
"I know about The Vulture and what he did to you, kid. It wasn’t your fault," Steve says. This is a recurring message that Tony must repeatedly deliver, but it does not tire him because it's the truth. Spider-man did nothing wrong in trying to stop The Vulture but the problem is that everyone knows this except Peter himself.
Peter sighs in defeat. "I'm in too much of a good mood to argue so I suppose I’ll let you have it, Mr Rogers." He perks up suddenly. "Can I go now?"
"Please, don’t call me Mr Rogers. Steve is fine. And one more thing," Steve starts unsurely, but when he stares down into the eyes of Peter's mask, he smiles in fondness and reassurance that he will be able to protect this guy if Peter somehow isn't able to himself. Steve won't let him get hurt. He’ll follow him to this damn ‘mission’ if he has to, if he feels it’s right. “Tony says you should be careful not to get hurt, and he's right, but I also think it's important that you believe in your own abilities and really, really do your best, always. I'll watch out for you - I promise - but don’t hold back when time calls for it.”
The extensive scar on Peter's thigh from his last fight throbs with doubt. But, in reality, he does actually listen to what people tell him sometimes. “I won’t, Mr—” He stops to correct himself. “... Steve.”
*
The second time Peter is ever truly terrified is at the set of a sudden attack in Chicago when, after jetting over and hoarding away a crowd of dozens out of harm's way, a forty-five-feet-long bus is tossed in his general vicinity and he is given approximately three seconds to react. It's about as terrible as it sounds. It's tumbling too fast with too much force to consider using his web shooters as a defence mechanism so logically, all he can do is run.
Aliens invade Earth - again, and so typically - and they resort to throwing a goddamn bus at a child? What happened to laser guns and good old invincibility? Peter dives behind a car parked adjacent to a fountain run dry (hardly a suitable cover but there is no time for being picky) and braces himself for impact, knees to his chest and hands over his head, hoping with any luck the bus will fly over the car and the fountain will take the blunt force and shatter.
The bus does fly straight over the car - no slow motion as it appears in the movies where Peter is brave enough to glance up and see the vehicle overhead for a fraction of a second - and hits the fountain, but the fountain does not shatter. It stands still, half-broken, and the bus stops moving for a breathless moment, trapped over Peter's head by inches as it is wedged between two solid structures. Slowly, it begins to creak and shuffle down, and then it truly falls.
Peter regrets his health insurance - will they consider covering something like this? - as soon as the bus lands on him, metal collapsing onto his side where he's rolled over. For a moment, all he can do is inhale a jagged breath of shock as if the very elements in his body would otherwise escape, and then there is excruciating… pain? No pain; just terror. Peter feels the side of the vehicle grazing his suit but he's safe. Okay, he's safe and nobody got hit and everything is going to be fine, right?
"Peter, it appears that you are confined to a small space with no immediate escape route." Karen informs him monotonously from inside the suit, and Peter's panic does this weird thing where it seems to skyrocket. "You are physically unharmed but in a state of shock. Should I call for help?"
It's like he's underneath that building again, gash burning on his leg, head swimming with what if's and 'I didn't get the chance to do this or that or anything I should have'. He understands Steve giving him a speech about saying goodbyes now. He can't breathe; bile rises up his throat and he resists the urge to throw up out of - fear, shock? Whatever it may be. He certainly can't find his voice to speak to Karen.
Steve wasn’t kidding when he said he’d look out for Peter though, because it’s Bucky goddamn Barnes (he still admires the metal arm) who lifts the would-be-heavy-weight off of him in the end (he could perhaps do it himself if he wasn't simply lying there curled up in a protective stance, frozen in a state of trauma) and Bucky’s low voice calls out, "You. Are you in pain?"
He chokes on his own voice. He's supposed to have super-strength but never has he felt so weak.
Bucky tries again, though distracted by civilians screaming as the threat moves elsewhere. “If you’re hurt, you’re getting benched. I will not let Stark—” He moves his hand to touch Peter's shoulder but cuts himself off as Peter violently takes a firm hold of Bucky’s flesh arm and twists it without a second thought, his strength blossoming to fruition.
Bucky is hardly moved physically but is left wide-eyed and yanking his arm back before his shoulder is dislocated. Peter, realising fighting is pointless, succumbs to his anxieties and scrambles back to the other side of the car, facing away from the Winter Soldier, eyes shut tight. The assassin is known to have killed probably thousands of people including Tony’s parents. Peter doesn't know how Tony just put that to the back of his mind when he agreed to let Bucky fight with them.
In his head, he chants reassurances to no avail. I am not under that building; I am not suffocating. Bucky won't kill me, we're on the same side. They have not left me. I am not in danger. I can breathe.
"What is this?" comes another familiar voice then there is a brief silence aside from Peter's laboured breathing. Still, he will not open his eyes, trying to avoid the disappointment of his teammates which must be inevitable after his mini freak-out. "Underroos?"
He lets one eye open then, slightly brought back to reality and comforted by the gentle and tired concern in that tone, heard even through the mechanical voice of a man of iron. Tony bends to his knees, keeping his respectful distance.
"Barnes,” he says extremely tightly, not looking, “help the others. I have things handled here. Thank you.” Tony dismisses the assassin and as he retreats, it's only then that Peter notices Steve standing, shield lowered and focus wavering, several metres away. His head is cocked in pity.
But Peter is a liability - it's not Steve's fault. Captain America shouldn't have to babysit the burden on the team because Peter's too careless to keep himself safe. They must be beyond irritated with the rescue missions by now. Maybe Peter should quit while he's ahead.
"What happened, kid?" Tony asks. The robot's voice is off-putting and loud, and Peter relates this with the image of something heartless - not a man, just a machine. Tony can't possibly care about him in that armour. “Is there a reason you tried to rip Barnes’ arm off? Yeah, I saw that, by the way.”
"I just…" Peter shakes his head numbly, regret filling him at the damage he nearly caused Bucky and shame building up. “I didn't mean to hurt anybody. I just forgot where I was for a second. Mr Stark, I’m sorry—”
"None of that. We all get like that sometimes, alright? Why don't you stand up, take a breather? We're about done here anyway and you look like you could use a hot chocolate or—" A Xanax, Tony narrowly stops himself from saying. "… Or some rest. We secured the perimeters; just dealing with a few lone and stubborn survivors crawling around the gutters and whatnot." Peter imagines their slimy, alien bodies lurching at him from behind.
He just wants to be strong, be something - not shattered at the thought of small spaces or infinite darkness. What kind of superhero can't finish a mission because they got scared? Tony’s going to disown him from crime fighting but what did he expect? He's only sixteen. He's only sixteen and he's heard the word from Tony's mouth before - 'done' - 'you're done' - and he feels nauseous as he imagines being exiled back home and never contacted again.
"Can I come closer?" asks Tony. Steve turns his back to them. Peter agrees listlessly and Tony puts a metal hand on his shoulder (surprisingly, there is not a flinch) then drops his voice down to a volume that nobody but the two of them can hear. "You thought you were trapped again," Tony guesses with curiosity.
"I was," snaps Peter then he shakes his head in apology, "I can't get it out of my head, Mr Stark - you know what I mean. I know it's been months but I can’t get over it."
“It doesn't matter how long it's been. I can't stand explosions after the grenade that nearly blew me up in Afghanistan and how many years ago was that? Not to mention taking a bath is a literal nightmare. All that water, ugh. Don't know how normal people can do it.”
"You nearly died, Mr Stark," Peter reminds him, though internally in despair as he knows Tony doesn't talk about Afghanistan to anyone. Why he thinks he should with Peter is beyond him. "There was a war going on. What excuse do I have?"
"Shut up," Tony reprimands as his patience is wearing thin, "you don't need an excuse. Listen to me, Peter, I will not allow you to beat yourself up over this. I’m no shrink but I’m certainly familiar with them and the fact that trauma can have lifelong effects on the mind, but it never means you have the right to blame yourself."
Maybe it's supposed to be comforting or bring a smile to his face; it makes Peter feel better in any case regardless of how scary-angry Tony is. “Steve said—”
“I will be having words with Steve.”
“I don't want a babysitter—”
"You have no say in the matter anymore." And now Peter's sour-faced. Tony continues after a short hesitation, "I bench you for your own good, kid. I seem to care about your wellbeing more than you do but that’s going to have to change. You can sit in the cockpit in the plane on the way back if it makes you feel any better, though - and oh, I do know this really amazing ice-cream place downtown."
"Yeah, you win."
*
"I can't go home," whines Peter when the sun starts to set. His ice-cream has vanished, the excitement of being over thirty-thousand feet up in Tony Stark's private jet along with it, and Peter complains at the prospect of having to face Aunt May ("You've got your internship with Mr Stark back so there's no excuse for sneaking around again, Mr Parker."). He stares out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the top of the Tony’s skyscraper of a home, forehead pressed against the glass.
More than anything, however, Peter simply does not want to fall asleep. He realises it's due, felt in the slight burning behind his weary eyelids and the laziness in his limbs, but at all costs, he will avoid it. Peter doesn't want to face another nightmare like the first one he had the night after the building fell on him (the lies gritted from between his teeth hardly persuaded Aunt May to let the issue go). He can't burden anyone with his stupid screaming or distressed sleep-talking.
"Why not?" Steve counters, crashing at Tony’s after the long day, standing awkwardly in the doorway, a small glass in one hand. He swirls the milk around absentmindedly. "This and a decent sleeping pill always knocks me out cold when the adrenaline's still kicking - if you're worried about sleep rather than going home, that is."
The Captain can almost see right through him to Peter’s miserable shock. "Why would I be worried about sleep, Steve?"
Steve sends him a wry and disbelieving half-smile. "I know the feeling."
Peter only then begins to recall the stories of Captain America - how he was used in the last World War, then frozen in time. What did he go through? In fact, what did any of the Avengers go through? With sadness, Peter can't think of any superhero who hasn't gone through some kind of hardship, whether that be losing a loved one, tortures and experimentations of all sorts, or injuries that he would wince at just to think of. Perhaps he's not the only one who's a little messed up in the head.
"Milk, huh?" Peter hums meekly. "And the pills, you… You use them a lot?"
"Not too often. I get this brand, you know, the non-addictive kind. All natural ingredients. They taste horrific but act like tranquillisers after a while." Steve cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at the clock. "It’s only just struck eight so unless you want an early night, maybe we could watch a movie or something."
"Tony’s not sending me home?" Peter confirms incredulously, perking up at the thought of spending the night at the Tower.
"Uh." Steve starts to saunter over to the sofa then throws himself on it with melodramatic effect. "Aside from the fact that Tony would beat me to death with my own shield if I let you out of my sight tonight, I get it: sometimes being alone is the worst thing in the world. Now come, sit."
Like some kind of petrified dog, Peter does as suggested. He blinks through his mask, wishing he could tell Steve who he really is - a simple school-kid from Queens, a friend, perhaps. Deep down, though, he knows it's for the best that he doesn't. "Tony has Netflix, right?"
"Nah, Tony can't afford to shell out the eight dollars a month these days," Steve declares and Peter doesn't quite catch onto the joke. Steve gives him a 'duh' look. “Yes, kid, he has Netflix.”
"I heard they added 'The Breakfast Club'," utters Peter and curls up into himself, somehow self-conscious and afraid Steve will laugh at him for the suggestion. Steve only smiles, however, like it's the best idea in the world, and searches for the title on the ridiculously large television. Maybe the super-soldier hasn't even seen it yet - being frozen for a few decades and then some is probably pretty lacking in entertainment.
At the end of the movie, Peter loses some of his previous tension and relaxes into the soft leather of the couch. It's almost like today didn't happen - like he wasn't caught underneath that damn bus, or that damn building months ago. With fondness, he remembers that twice now, although the circumstances were life-threatening, Peter was saved by people who care about him and his safety and who want what's best for him. Peter suddenly appreciates how lucky he is even to have Tony ask Steve to look out for him.
When the credits roll, Peter stretches and stifles a yawn. Steve notices and immediately stands to head to the kitchen in search of sleeping pills. He knows the controversy surrounding them is one to pay attention to but he really always does buy the ones with natural, non-addictive ingredients that are safe to use at any time. They should start to work within half an hour, although Steve is wary about the fact that it usually takes more than one dose - more than a single night - for a fresh body to acclimatise to them. If Peter has trouble sleeping tonight especially, there's no guarantee this method will be efficient.
He brings through milk and a single pill as promised. Peter gives him an 'is this actually going to work?' glance and Steve keeps his lips pursed, silently urging the kid to just try it. Peter pulls up his mask to his mouth and swallows the small pill, grimacing at the foreign taste mixed with the milk.
"Thank you," he says eventually, because even if it doesn't work, it's the thought that Steve is really trying everything he can to help that's soothing to him. Peter can at least pray for a placebo effect.
"It's no problem. If you ever have trouble sleeping from now on…" Steve waves the packet about in the air, letting Peter see the brand written on it - just in case.
"Where's Mr Stark?" He comes to the realisation that he hasn't seen the man of iron since they got back - not even to take off his suit.
"Workshop, maybe? I’m hitting the hay - knock on my door or holler if you need anything." Steve stresses at the concept of Peter's suffering in silence. He swore he would look after him and this time he won't break that promise.
Peter waves his concern away. "I'll be fine. Don't let me keep you awake or anything. Thanks, Mr - ... Steve. I know that I..." Peter stops himself suddenly at the glare he is met with and holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, you're right, I’m not a burden. But you know what I'm trying to say - I really needed some help with some things today and you...”
"It’s what friends do. Goodnight." Steve sets his empty glass down on a coaster on a table, no sleeping pill necessary tonight, and wanders off to bed.
Peter almost decides to find Tony in the workshop - almost being the keyword, because God knows what Tony's like when he's stressed; he won't want to talk to anyone. He shuts himself off and that's okay because it's the type of person he is. Peter respects that and leaves him be. If Tony hasn't come up to check on him, he must be at least somewhat reassured that Steve has done a good job 'babysitting' and Peter hasn't freaked out or broke anyone's arm or anything. It's a start.
He heads to bed as well after texting Aunt May he's staying over at Ned's (… and then pleading with Ned to cover for him, and yes, he'll tell him all about it later), cheek finding the cool side of the pillow so soft, so hazy. He's close to unconscious and not aware enough to realise there's someone standing on the other side of his door by the time they get there, ear pressed against the wooden surface to listen out for any erratic breathing or soft sobs and a sigh of relief follows when all is confirmed to be okay.
Tony finds he can finally breathe, after that.