Chapter Text
Finals: the worst villain Peter’s ever faced.
Seven classes, seven teachers who didn’t care that he also had to study his ass off for six other classes, seven tests that would determine whether or not he’d stay on decathlon, get into college, prove to himself that he could handle being a high school student and a superhero at the same time.
And finally, he was done.
After hours of testing, Peter walked down the school hallways with Ned and MJ, the three of them finally free. Mindless formulas are still buzzing around his head, but they no longer hold any meaning to him. The strong stench of chemical clean burns at his nostrils and a headache is buzzing at his temples, but none of that matters, because it’s all over. He made it through.
“Wait,” Ned said, still talking about their math exam for some godforsaken reason, “you got 9.8? I got 4.7. I think. Maybe I’m thinking of another question. Peter, what did you get for the hot air balloon question?”
“Uh,” Peter tried to remember the specific question Ned was asking about, but he couldn’t. He barely remembered taking the exam. His brain had been working overtime all week, and now it’s crashing. “I don’t remember. Sorry, dude.”
Ned sighed. “It’s okay. I’m just going to stress about it until scores are released.”
“Why though?” MJ asked. “You can’t change what you wrote. Worrying won’t change your grade.”
“Do you really think like that?” Ned asked, dark eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “That’s amazing. I wish I could turn my brain off like that.”
“Nah,” MJ said. “That’s just what I tell myself while I continue to stress about it internally. No one can really turn off their brain, Ned.”
“Uh, looks like Peter can,” Ned said. “How are you not stressing with us, man?”
“I didn’t turn my brain off,” Peter argued. “I’m still stressing about grades. I just—” He made a vague handwavy gesture. “It’s all gone. I’ve gotten like six hours of sleep total this week, and I spent all my time thinking about school—”
“That’s not healthy,” MJ interrupted.
“And now that it’s over, and I don’t have to think in calculus anymore, my brain is just too tired to think about school anymore.”
“Okay, yeah,” Ned said. “I get that. Did you really only get six hours, though? That’s not good, Peter.”
“Exaggeration, man,” Peter said, although it’s not actually. One week of all-nighters seems to him like a fair price to pay for good grades. Now that it’s over, he can sleep for like a week straight. That balances it all out, right?
Besides, he’d reached the point in his sleep deprivation where he’s not actually tired. His brain is just a little exhausted from taking test after test, that’s all. Physically, he felt fine, there’s just a fog that rolls into his head whenever he tries to think about differential equations or Spanish conjugations.
“Hey,” Ned said, “my mom’s making a celebratory dinner tonight—you guys in? Gonna be great… She’s going all out.”
MJ visibly pouted. “Damn. I’m leaving tonight to visit my grandparents.”
“Pete?”
“Sorry, man.” Peter really does hate to miss it. Mrs. Leeds was probably the best cook he knew, and his stomach rumbled just thinking about it. “It’s a lab day.”
Ned didn’t even take a moment to look crestfallen; his eyes immediately lit up.
“Lab day? With Tony Stark? Have I ever mentioned how cool your life is?”
“Yes,” MJ said, rolling her eyes. “You say it like every day.”
“Tell me all about it after, okay?” Ned said to Peter. “I love living my nerd dreams vicariously through you.”
Peter laughed. “I will.” In his pocket, his phone buzzed, alerting him to Happy’s fourth text telling him to hurry up. “I gotta go. We’re still on for Saturday night, Ned?”
“Always!”
Peter waved goodbye to his friends before breaking into a jog towards the parking lot. The fresh air hit him square in the face and he breathed it in, letting his headache dissipate. It rained while they were stuck inside, and the air is thick with humidity. Puddles evaporated around his feet in the warm air and he smiled, feeling the beams of sun peeking out from the clouds as they hit his face.
He slid into the car, throwing his backpack on the floor, buckling his seatbelt, and chirping a cheerful hello to Happy.
“Hey, kid,” Happy said. “How were the exams?”
“Pretty good, I think,” Peter said with a shrug. “I feel good, but you never know, ya know?”
“Hmm. Well, hopefully everything went well. I don’t want your scary aunt calling to yell at Tony again. He gets really sulky when he has to yell at you, and a grumpy Tony is not good for my mental health.”
Peter hummed. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that. You’re already looking a little grey.”
Happy shot him a scarily long glare for someone who really should have had his eyes on the road.
“Watch it, kid,” he said, but Peter knew there was no sincerity to his glare. He grinned back smugly at the older man.
The ride flew by, feeling like just a few minutes before Peter was blinking up at the compound entrance and thanking Happy for the ride.
“Have a good weekend, kid,” Happy said. “Take care of yourself.”
Peter shot him a confused glance, since the man was rarely so open with the soft-spot Happy insisted he didn’t have—banter was far more their style—but smiled anyway. “You too, Happy!”
Mr. Stark was waiting for him in the lab, and Peter was excited to get started. Finals week meant he got done with the day at 11:00, after finishing up his last couple of exams. When he’d mentioned this fact to Tony, his mentor had seemed ecstatic to have more time to spend with Peter, a concept Peter tried not to think about too hard, since it might make his mind explode with excitement. Normally on Fridays, Peter would come over after school and they’d work until their May- and Pepper-enforced curfew.
(That’s not to say that they didn’t go a little over sometimes—they just tried to limit the number of times they worked into the early morning, since Pepper was scary when she caught them, and she always relayed the information to May, which led to a stern talking-to on Peter’s part, and a full-on angry lecture for Tony on the responsibilities of looking after a teenager.)
Peter’s half day at school meant extra time in the lab. It meant eating lunch together, their mouths spewing theories and ideas around Peter’s favorite takeout before rushing back down to put those theories to test. It meant Peter could babble on and on about whatever without feeling guilty about taking up too much of their shared time.
It’s what he’d been looking forward to all week. Every time he opened his textbook or pulled out his flashcards, he had to push away the part of his brain that just wouldn’t shut up about all the ideas he couldn’t wait to share with Tony. It had been a bit hard to focus, but he pushed through.
“Hey kiddo,” Tony said, grinning when he walked in and looking up from his workbench.
Peter tossed his backpack into the corner and threw his arms up dramatically. “I’m free!” he said, beaming.
“Proud of you, kid,” Tony said as Peter scampered over to sit next to him on the bench. “How were the tests?”
“Pretty good! What are we working on?” Peter asked. He could feel himself practically vibrating with excitement, and his bouncing knee was probably shaking the whole table, but Tony just chuckled at him.
“Nanotech,” Mr. Stark answered. “How much do you know about that?”
“Not much,” Peter admitted, stifling a yawn.
“Good thing I’m such a great teacher then,” his mentor grinned. “Alright, kiddo, listen up—”
Mr. Stark launched into a lengthy explanation on the theories behind nanotechnology, and normally Peter would be listening with rapt attention, but for whatever reason (see: finals-induced sleep deprivation), he just couldn’t focus. In less than two minutes, his mentor’s words had faded into a dull whir and Peter’s eyelids were growing heavier and heavier.
He just wanted to rest his head for a minute. Mr. Stark would be fine. They had all day, and chances are, Tony had already moved from actually explaining the technology to murmuring whatever new theories popped into his head in the spur of the moment.
He wouldn’t mind if Peter put his head down, just for thirty seconds. Thirty seconds and he’d be ready to go for the rest of the day.
Peter let his head fall forward and his eyes drift closed.
Just… thirty… seconds……
Tony was in the middle of telling Peter about the nanite housing unit when he felt a strange weight on his right arm.
He’d been staring at the screens in front of him, left hand waving through the air as he talked and flipping through holographic projections to so Peter could see what he was talking about. Secretly, he was looking forward to seeing Peter’s eyes light up and hearing all his questions. The kid was an excitable genius, and working in the lab had never been as, well, fun as it was with Peter.
He was so into his work that it took him a few minutes to even recognize what had happened, and even then, it was only when his fingers started going numb that he happened to look down and everything clicked into place.
Peter, once staring up at him with wide eyes, had slumped forward against the table, his forehead resting on Tony’s arm. With the absence of his own voice in his ears, he could hear Peter’s slow, steady breathing—could feel it, too, against his skin with every soft exhale.
“Pete?” Tony whispered, using his free hand to brush his hair off of his forehead and feel for any fever or sickness that might be lingering. There was nothing, which was unsurprising, since Peter had told him that he hadn’t gotten sick since before the bite.
But what was surprising was the fact that the kid was asleep, at 12:30, in the lab, on the first day of his break.
“FRIDAY,” he said softly, just to be sure, “give me the kid’s vitals, will ya?”
She pulled them up on the screens in front of him—everything looked normal. So the kid was just sleepy, then. Or Tony was being horribly boring.
Nah. Kid was just tired. He’d had a busy week, that’s it.
Peter sniffed, and Tony could feel his nose wrinkle and his face scrunch up as he turned to rest his cheek against Tony’s arm. His long eyelashes fluttered a little in his sleep, tickling slightly as he let loose a sharp exhale of warm air and settled back into his nap.
The kid’s big head was pinching his arm painfully against the table now, so he gently tugged himself free, planting his other hand firmly in his curls to keep him steady.
He was prepared to let Peter continue sleeping while he got back to work, but he couldn’t focus when he just kept glancing down at the kid, looking at how he was hunched over against the slightly too-short table—if he stays like that, his back and neck will be killing him later, enhanced healing or not.
With a sigh, he reached over and grabbed the spare MIT hoodie he always keeps in the lab, folding it up and tucking it under Peter’s head.
There. Now he could go back to work.
Except…
God, had it always been this boring to work without Peter? It couldn’t have been. He used to go on 36-hour lab marathons, back before Peter was even born. He should be able to work for longer than twenty minutes without looking at the clock or letting his mind wander.
He glanced down at the sleeping kid again and sighed. The nanites could wait. Today was Peter’s day.
Gently, Tony reached down and ran his fingers through the curls that fell on Peter’s forehead, pushing them back and stroking the kid’s temple with his thumb. He ignored the way Peter’s face curled into a smile at the touch and the flutter of paternal warmth that came with it.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said softly. “C’mon, Pete. Eyes open."
When that didn't work, he tried a new approach: "Peter. Peter! Pete. Kid. Peter. Pete! Kid. Peter. Peter. Peter," punctuating each word with a poke to the kid's side.
He grinned as the kid blinked awake blearily. “Huh? Mis’r Stark? Oh shit. Did I fall asleep?”
“Sure did, kiddo.”
“’M so sorry, Mis’r Stark,” he said through a yawn. “Didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine, kid. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m up now,” Peter said, sitting up and swaying in his seat as drowsiness continued to pull at his eyelids. He looked adorable, like a puppy that just couldn’t stay awake. “Nanites. Go. I’m listening.”
“Yeah, I think you’re done for the day, Pete.” Peter’s face fell, and Tony instantly felt bad. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. We’re just going to move upstairs. We’ll get some food in you and have a movie marathon. Sound good?”
Peter blinked. His body swayed slightly, like he was threatening to tip over back onto the table. “Don’t you need to work? It’s fine if you do. I—”
“It’s your day, Pete. I want us to hang out. You’ve been using that big brain of yours to the max this week—you deserve a break, yeah? It’ll be fun.”
The kid’s face morphed into a drowsy beam and Tony’s heart melted. Yeah, screw work. This kid was so much more important.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said.
“Alright, kid, let’s head on up.”
Tony reached over and steadied the kid with an arm around the shoulders. What he hadn't counted on was how clingy Peter could be when he was sleepy. He'd seen it before, but he never got used to the fact that he somehow didn't hate when the kid got like this. Somewhere along the line, he'd stopped thinking of Peter as "that spider kid that I need to try and keep alive or else I'll be screwing yet another person's life" to "my kid, who wormed his way into my life and refused to let go and I don't even mind."
Peter, in his sleepy stupor, let himself get pulled into the one-armed hug, before he reached up and hugged Tony back, both arms winding around his neck.
"Whatcha doing, Pete?" Tony asked with a chuckle.
"Tired," Peter said, laying his head on Tony's collarbone. "Warm."
Tony huffed and rolled his eyes. Gently, he unwound the kid from his neck and pulled the sweatshirt from the table over his head. Peter was barely any help as he shoved the kid's arms through the sleeves. Peter smiled, his eyes shut. His hair was no longer styled for school, and his curls stuck up in odd places. Tony was smoothing his hair down before he even realized what he was doing.
"Thanks," Peter said again, just loud enough for Tony to barely hear him.
Then, he wound his arms back around Tony's neck and resumed position. With his eyes closed and breathing slow and content, Tony was worried the kid was going to fall asleep right there.
"Hey, Pete. Don't fall asleep. Up and at 'em."
"Don't wanna... Too...tired..."
"Fine. I guess we're doing this the hard way. I'm getting way too old for this kiddo, and if I hurt my back, I'm going to ground you."
Peter frowned, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. "Huh?"
Tony grinned and wrapped his arms back around the kid before heaving him up off the bench. Peter's super strength and freaky spider powers kept him firmly latched onto Tony's chest without him having to do much to support him.
"I'm so glad I've got an elevator, Pete, or you'd have to nap on the lab floor."
"You'd never let me," Peter mumbled sleepily against his chest.
No, I wouldn't. "Sure I would."
Once they were settled on the couch in front of the TV, Tony decided to forego food for now. Spider-baby would be starving when he woke up, but there was no getting the kid to sit up long enough to eat anything of substance, so he'd just have to wait.
Right now, Peter was curled up next to Tony, his head on his shoulder, his eyes blinking blearily at the TV. No way would they stay open for long.
"Give us some movie options, Fri," Tony said, shifting to throw his feet up on the coffee table and hug Peter's shoulder tighter.
"No movies. Wanna finish Project Runway," Peter mumbled. "Season finale."
"No way! You're thirty seconds from falling asleep, Pete. It seems fair to let me do the choosing, since I'm the one who's actually going to watch it."
Probably not, actually. He was comfortable and warm and more relaxed than he'd been in a while. It was only a matter of time before he joined Peter in dreamworld, but he wasn't about to tell Peter that. He had a reputation to maintain here.
"Project Runway," Peter insisted. "I won't fall asleep. Promise."
Tony sighed. "Fine. Play it, Fri." He felt the grin in Peter's cheek against his shoulder. Little shit had him wrapped around his finger and he didn't even mind.
A few minutes in, he glanced down to see if Peter was asleep yet. Surprisingly, his eyes were still open, gazing half-lidded at the TV and drifting closed every few seconds before he blinked himself awake again.
"Hey, Pete," Tony said slowly, "why are you so tired? I know it was exam work, and you've been working really hard, but you know sleep is really important, especially with your metabolism."
"I know, Mr. Stark," Peter said, "but it's just one week. 'M Spider-Man. I can handle one week."
"How much sleep did you get, Peter? Be honest with me."
He could feel Peter shift slightly, angling his face down where Tony couldn't get a good look at it. So he was guilty.
"Enough."
"So, you pulled a week of all-nighters?"
"No. I got a few hours."
"How many?"
"Seven?"
"Each night?"
"Uh..."
"All week? Pete, you can't do that."
"I know, I know, but I couldn't sleep. I needed to study. I wanted to do really well on my exams."
"You're a smart kid, Peter. You didn't need to spend that much time studying. May would just want you to do your best and be healthy while you're at it. You know she wouldn't be mad if you didn't get all A+s. Is this about the scary girl in charge of your decathlon team?"
"No," Peter muttered. "MJ's surprisingly lax about exam scores. Like, she knows grades are important, but she's also really adamant that mental health is important and standardized tests are a bad representation of intelligence." He stifles a yawn halfway through what sounds like a practiced speech.
"Alright..." Tony said slowly, "then why were you working so hard?"
"Wanted to do really well this year, is all."
That was a lie. Well, maybe not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth.
"Yes, Pete, I get that. But why?"
"Wanted to impress you."
Tony blinked, caught off guard. If Peter weren't so tired, he probably wouldn't have admitted it. Tony would like to believe that Peter knew better, that he got that Tony was always going to be proud of him, no matter what. He was the best damn kid in the world, and everything he did impressed Tony to no end. He was always damn impressed with this kid.
But in reality, he probably doesn't. God knows why, but for some reason, Peter never quite sees how amazing he is. And he never sees just how proud Tony is of him.
But he needs to. Suddenly, it's the most important thing in the world that Peter know exactly what Tony thinks.
"I'm always proud of you, kid," he said softly, running his fingers through his curls. "No matter what. I'm always going to be so, so proud of you. You're a good kid, Peter, you know that? You don't need to work yourself to the bone to try and impress me. I'm proud of every single damn thing you do."
"Really?" Peter blinked up at him owlishly, brown eyes huge and wide.
"Really," Tony said. "You're important to me, kid, and that means you should be getting your rest. It's not good for you to miss that much sleep."
"You do it."
"Remember what I said? Don't do anything I would do? Grey area?"
"Yeah, okay." Peter really must be tired if he doesn't bring up how ridiculous that whole line had been like he usually does. "Sorry."
"It's okay. Just get some rest, kiddo. I'm proud of you anyways."
He could feel Peter smile against his shoulder as Tony tipped his own head sideways to rest on Peter's curls and let his eyes fall closed.