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“This is...yeah,” May sighs into the phone, thankfully heeding Tony’s request that she keep it down, lest Peter hear them.
“Ok, so he’s done this before?” Tony thinks he knows Peter pretty well after three years and an apocalypse, he knows his moods, when he’s upset or anxious or angry, when he’s excited or happy, and pretty much all the things he’d never thought he’d understand about a teenager. Especially a teenager who happens to share 2.98 percent of his DNA with a spider. Hell, he’s even gotten good at recognizing when Peter is about to drop over because he hasn’t been following instructions and staying close to the lamps.
But Tony has never seen him like this: listless and dull, not just tired but as if every drop of of his personality is drained. Even Peter’s bad moods are always tinged with his Peter-ness, bouncy and full of energy, and his sadness large and noisy, and usually given a few days, he’ll even get tired of himself and it’s as if nothing ever happened. The closest Tony can remember was in the first few weeks after they reversed everything and he pulled him off the red ground of Titan, blessedly, wonderfully whole, but even then, Peter was just tired. Existentially tired, he’d described it, but this is so much worse. And it’s only been a few days.
“Yeah,” May affirms on the other end of the line. She’s in Texas for a training conference, and will be for another week. “It doesn’t last very long, he just needs, well...a recharge.”
“A ‘recharge?’” Tony yelps, then grimaces to himself. Peter’s in his room down the hall, but he can hear everything in the Tower, and for probably miles. “May, I know you’ve known him for a lot longer than I have, but..I never seen him like this. This doesn’t seem like a ‘recharge’ situation.”
“Exactly, Tony, I have know him a lot longer than you have, and I have seen this before. All that energy he has--he burns through it. Was he particularly anxious last week? Any nightmares or panic attacks?”
“Maybe a little jumpier, but,” Tony wracks his brain. He doesn’t remember that stood out particularly, in fact, he thought it had been a pretty good week. No injuries, no freak-outs, and downright peaceful considering their lot. “But nothing stands out.”
“Which means he was probably trying to hide it,” May sighs again, and Tony hears the crinkle of a fast food wrapped in the background. “Which you should know--”
“Is just as exhausting,” Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows, better than most, how tiring it is to be trapped in your own brain, and how tiring it is to try and pretend like everything is normal. “But why didn’t he say anything?”
“Maybe there was nothing to say,” May takes a bite of something. “There doesn’t always have to be something in particular, does there?”
“No,” Tony sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter. He looks at the sandwich still on the counter, one bite missing and then abandoned. “And that’s when it’s usually the worst.”
“You know how he worries about everything, Tony. He always did; he always tried to carry more than his share. And now, he just needs some time.”
“Can you at least tell me how to get him to eat something?” Tony lifts the plate, then tosses it back onto the counter with a clatter.
“Kraft spirals, cut up hot dogs.”
“I’d laugh, but it’s better than what I used to do.”
“What was yours?”
“A bottle of scotch and sharp cheddar. I’d just eat it, May. Just a block.”
“Oh, that sounds gross,” May laughs sadly.
“It was,” Tony sighs. “I hated it. And I hate the thought of him feeling that way.”
“I know. Will he take the phone?”
“Hang on,” Tony holds the phone away from his ear and strides down the hallways to what used to be the largest guest room in the penthouse, but is now the domain of Peter and Karen. “Pete?” Tony raps two knuckles lightly on the door, then twists the knob. It’s open, which better than he was expecting. Tony always appreciated locked doors, himself. “Hey bud,” he says gently, to the lump curled up on its side. He looks painfully tiny in the middle of the giant bed. “Your aunt is on the phone. Want to say hi?”
The lump on the bed just grunts and reaches listlessly behind him. Ok, that’s something. Tony slips into the room--dark, because he’s thrown a bath towel over the lamp in the far corner and had Karen close the black-out blinds.
He hears Peter answer in one-word grunts as he walks over to the lamp and yanks the towel off. The room brightens immediately, and Tony feels a surge of guilt when he flinches at the sudden light, but while he may want to wallow in the dark, he isn’t allowed until at least April. He takes the towel into the bathroom, under the semblance of trying to give Peter some privacy. There’s a streak of toothpaste in the sink--at least the kid brushed his teeth. Another thing that’s more than Tony used to do.
“Tony,” he hears his name from the room--and it doesn’t escape him that it’s not the usual Mr. Stark--and walks back into the room to see his phone being held out to him. “May wants to talk to you.”
“Thanks, kiddo,” Tony takes the phone and gently pats his hip. “I’ll be back.” All he gets is another grunt in return. He leaves the bedroom door open, but heads back to the kitchen as he lifts the phone to his ear. “So?”
“So what, Tony?” He hears May flick a faucet on. “It’s like I said, he just need to recharge a bit. And I think he’s nervous about next fall?”
“Next fall?” Tony opens the cupboard where he thinks Pepper puts the dried goods. “It’s February!”
“Yes, and his last winter break of high school.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” May sounds distinctly unimpressed. “Which, in Peter Parker’s mind, is not only an indication that things are changing, but also that he’s going to be leaving things behind--”
“Yeah, the weight of the world. Ah!” Tony finds a box of Kraft Mac ‘N Cheese. He’s surprised Pepper would even put something like this on the list.
“Yeah. He’s worn-out, Tony. And not that you’re not great, but I’m usually there when he burns out.”
“Great. So how do we fix it? I can’t have a mopey spider here for a week...and I don’t want him to feel like shit.”
“What’d you do?”
“Honestly? I got a prescription,” Tony pulls milk and butter out of the fridge, trying to remember if he took his little white pill when he woke up. He’s pretty sure he did.
“No shame in it!” May, ever the nurse, reassures. “I don’t know that he needs that--but even well-adjusted kids go through stuff. You know, considering, we got off lucky. If all he walks away with is an all-consuming fear of dark rooms, I’ll take it.”
“I have a whole list...lines where I’ve decided I’ll ask you if we need to escalate this and get him some help.”
“I know--”
“This feels like it should be one, May. He’s just...blah. I’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he’s not him.”
“I know, Tony, but I have. And if we rush him after two days of him acting oddly, we may freak him out.”
“Ok, so how many days do we give it?”
“Until I get back, at least?”
“I could fly you home.”
“Thank you, Tony, but I can’t. This new position has been a godsend...and you know it’d just make him feel guilty.”
“I know.”
“So just...be there? Don’t be annoying, but let him know you’re hanging around. I usually check in, and if he’s snappy, just offer one thing--”
“--before you leave again,” Tony chuckles darkly to himself. “I’m pretty sure he did that once with me.”
“Well, he’s been known to pick up a few things from the smart people in his life.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony fills a pot with water and sets it to boil. “So, any chance there was something big up the last time he asked me for mac and cheese with hot dogs?”
“Probably not, he just has terrible taste and loves it. Consider yourself flattered he trusts you with the knowledge,” May laughs. “Listen, Tony, I have to get back down to the classes. I’ll call tonight. But don’t start panicking yet. Let him build some of those brain chemicals up again.”
“Is that actually a thing? Like, when you’re so worked up they just run out? One of my doctors said it was a thing.”
“If your doctor said it, why are you asking me?”
“Because it kind of sounded like bullshit.”
“It’s not. Oversimplified, but, essentially. And sometimes you gotta lean into it to feel better. I’ll call around eight, but if there’s an emergency, call me. And don’t let him go out patrolling.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on it,” Tony dumps eight hot dogs--he’s even more surprised those were in the freezer than he was that they had mac and cheese--in a second pot of water. “And I don’t even think he’s up for it. It’s like he’s, gone.” Tony shudders. Not gone. Peter’s not gone. He still has to remind himself, sometimes.
“He’s not. He’s just in stand-by mode. Give him a kiss for me.”
“Yeah. Thanks, May.”
“Thank you, Tony.”
She clicks off the line and Tony tosses his phone on the counter. Logically, he’s sure May is right. But he still hates it.
*******
“Hey, bud,” Thirty minutes later Tony toes open Peter’s bedroom door, holding a large bowl with an entire box of mac and cheese with eight cut up hot dogs mixed in, and a bottle of ketchup. The lamp isn’t recovered but the blinds are still closed, and Peter looks like he’s maybe shifted all of three inches on the bed. He looks like he’s flipping through something on his phone. “Whatchu doing?”
“Nothing,” is the flat reply, and Tony flinches.
“Ok. I made a snack...you wanna come out? Mac and cheese, with hot dogs.”
“No, thank you.”
“Pete, you need to eat,” Tony tries to keep his voice neutral.
“I’m fine.”
“Alright,” he remembers what May told him. “Well, I’m gonna leave this here in case you change your mind, ok?”
“Fine.”
“Or I could stay...you want some company?” he tries.
“No.”
“You sure? Anything you need to talk about?”
“‘M just tired.”
Tony sighs, and sets the bowl down on the nightstand. Maybe the kid will smell it. “Alright, bud. I’m just gonna hang out in the living room doing some paperwork, so I’ll be around if you need anything.”
“S’ok, I know you’re busy.”
“Nothing that couldn’t wait,” Tony starts to sit on the edge of the bed, then thinks better of it. Offer him something. “Anything you want or need before I leave that might make you feel better?”
“No.”
Tony sighs again, he hopes not too loudly, so the kid doesn’t think he’s exasperated with him. “Alright. But come out if you feel up to it. I’m lonely out there.”
Peter just hums as Tony leans over and combs through his messy hair once, hiding his phone screen under his arm. He doesn’t pry, just squeezes his shoulder once and heads towards the door.
He leaves it open, just a crack. Tony hates this.
******
Tony hears footsteps down the hall and into the kitchen but forces himself not to look over or call out. A plate and fork clatter into the sink, followed by running water and the sound of the dishwasher opening and closing, then heavy footsteps in his direction, rather than back down the hall.
“Hey,” Tony looks up from the holographic image in front of him as Peter sulks into the sitting room. He’s still in his pajamas: an oversized t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, but his hair is wet, so he’s got another thing on Tony’s moods.
“Thanks for the mac and cheese,” Peter looks at his feet and comes over to the couch, hesitantly sitting on the edge. He looks exhausted.
“Of course, kiddo. You want anything else?”
Peter shakes his head and scratches his nose, still looking at his feet. His shoulders are stiff and it makes Tony’s back hurt to look at him. Or maybe that’s something else.
“You sure? We can get some dessert in here. Something warm?”
“I’m alright.”
“Ok. But it’s still early, so say the word.”
“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”
Ah, they’re back to Mr. Stark again. “You sure you don’t wanna talk about anything, Pete?”
“No, there’s nothing.”
“Nothing in particular, you mean.”
Peter shrugs and starts to look up, then changes his mind. “Just tired.”
“Happens,” Tony shrugs nonchalantly. “You got an entire week to rest up, bud. So take it easy.”
“Is May gonna call again?”
“Yeah, she said around eight,” Tony leans forward to set his tablet on the coffee table, and rests his elbows on his knees. “Or we can call her earlier, if you want.”
“No, that’s ok.”
“Whatever you want,” Tony eyes him. “You know, if--”
“Is it alright if I sit out here and watch tv?” Peter looks up at him, and Tony thinks his cheeks may be a bit redder than usual.
“Mi casa es su casa, kid,” Tony grabs a remote from the table, glad to have something to do with his hands. “You mind if I stay, too?”
Peter snorts, and it’s kind of close to a smile, so Tony will take that as a win. “It’s your living room, Mr. Stark.”
“Yeah, but sometimes we need to be alone,” he clicks on the tv. “I can go in my office.”
“No, please stay,” Peter side-eyes him, embarrassed. Tony thinks it’s ridiculous, but he would, wouldn’t he?
“Perfect,” Tony smiles at the progress. “Get over here, then.”
Peter doesn’t answer, but pulls his feet up and scoots over, pressing close to Tony’s right arm. He’s acting a bit more like Peter, and something in Tony’s chest loosens considerably.
“What’re you in the mood for? Gratuitous violence? Explicit sex? Funny? Sad? Action? TV binging or whatever you kids call it?”
“Something where I don’t have to think.”
“Animals it is then,” Tony flicks through Netflix and selects Planet Earth, the original. A screensaver on the television set. He settles back into the couch, leaning a bit into Peter’s side. “Thinking a bit too much lately?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, take a break then,” Tony raises his hand and smoothes down some of Peter’s damp hair. “Recharge a bit.”
Peter looks at him out of the corner of his eyes, as if he’s heard that terminology before and knows exactly where Tony heard it too. Tony catches his gaze and holds it.
“But if you need to talk--”
“I know, Mr. Stark. But I think not thinking is enough for now.”
“Alright,” Tony pats his knees, and tactfully turns back to the screen, recognizing the clear dismissal. At least Peter seems to be poking back out, even if he’s obviously tired.
Tony feels a bit better, even if he still hates it.