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Spider-Man lands on his balcony connected to his bedroom in the Avengers Compound. Without having to do anything, Friday opens the window for him so he can climb through. Holding his side, he throws himself through and lands on his bed. The window slams shut behind him.
“Young sir, are you alright?” Friday asked. “Would you like for me to contact Mr. Stark?”
“That won’t be necessary,” he griped, slipping off his mask. The suit loosened and fell around his side. He didn’t move to change out of it; he just laid flat on his bed for a few moments.
“Mr. Stark is requesting your presence,” she continued.
Peter covered his face with his outstretched arm. “Why?” he said, not wanting to move.
“Peter,” Karen said, who is now also inhabiting his room too. “You have an appointment with the others at 9:30.”
“Appointment?” he scoffed, thinking. He sat up. “Meeting?”
“Weekly Movie Night is commencing now,” Friday notified.
“Ah,” he said, falling back. “Tell Mr. Stark I have homework.”
“Peter,” Karen chastised in a sickeningly way that made him think of May, “you should go.”
Peter let out a whine. “Why? I don’t wanna.” He raised his arms up and stretched across his soft bed. “What movie is it?”
“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen notified. Peter didn’t even reply before she picked up the call.
“Kid, you’re late,” he said. “Hurry before we start without you.”
“What movie?” Peter asked, straight to the point.
“It’s your turn to pick,” he replied.
Peter furrowed his eyebrows together. “So you were gonna… start without me, but you don’t have a movie to watch.”
“Peter, please,” Steve said, exasperated. “If you don’t get down here soon, we’ll be watching Brave. Again.”
“Okay, okay,” Peter sighed. “Fine, Fine.” The call ended abruptly, and it took all the strength Peter had to sit up.
He let the Spider-Man suit drop to his ankles as he walked around his bedroom in his Iron Man briefs. He really had to give it to Tony for designing this room. The red and blue walls with his game consoles, posters, and shelves for his sentimentals (and Peter is very sentimental when it comes down to it). Tony filled the room with some of his own belongings as well as new things. For instance, Tony filled Peter’s closet with new clothes, some fancy while some silly science puns.
A good amount of the clothes was Avengers themed, but Peter wasn’t complaining. He sifted through his pajama drawer before pulling out gray sweatpants and a faded school shirt.
Peter stumbled into his bathroom next to stare at his reflection. He cringed at the sight of a bloody cut under his right eye. Wincing, he lifted up his shirt to see the webbed stab wound. He pressed a hand against it, and thankfully, it was already healing. It’d be gone by morning.
Peter leaned in closer to the mirror and scrubbed at his eyebags with a rag. Unlike the stab wound, the eyebags would not be gone by morning.
He always has had trouble sleeping. Nothing was new, but somehow, things have gotten worse. After May, after everything, he finds himself sleepless. He writhes, oddly uncomfortable, feeling misplaced for reasons he can’t understand. He spends most of the nights patrolling until he collapses from exhaustion.
He loves it, lives for when his body becomes so fatigued he falls into a dreamless sleep. That way, he doesn’t spend hours in agony trying to sleep, nor does he wake up shaking in his pajamas.
That point, though, is hard to get to. It’d be a couple more hours, maybe sooner if he really pushed for it, until he passed out, maybe if the stab wound stopped hurting a bit less.
Instead, Peter makes his way into the communal area.
“Finally,” Clint says, clapping his hands. He’s sitting on his feet in a squat on top of the couch. “Time for the best movie of all time: Brave!”
“No,” Tony spoke up. “We are not watching Brave.”
“We are not,” Steve agreed. “No, no.”
“You guys only ever want to watch Disney Princess movies,” Peter complained, taking the empty seat on the couch next to Tony and Bucky. There was an awkward space between them, but no one commented on it. Things were still a little rough, all things considered.
“Technically, you’re not old enough for R rated movies,” Steve said, earning the looks of everyone in the room. Nat covered her face and mumbled some curse at Steve under her breath. It was too late, though. The damage was already done.
“But that’s not why,” Bruce was quick to say. “Of course not.”
“I can watch rated R movies,” Peter spat. He snatched the remote. “It’s my turn to pick?” Tony nodded in affirmation, slightly off put by his sudden outburst. “Fine.” He lands on Pet Sematary.
“Peter, weren’t you saying you wanted to see Shazam,” Sam tried, at least.
“No, I wanna watch this,” Peter said, stoic, pressing play.
The movie started. They watched with subtitles on, not only for Clint but for Peter as well. Even with his super hearing, sometimes he misses stuff.
However, Peter was having trouble reading the subtitles or even looking at the screen in general.
One would think he’d be accustomed to horror movies. After all, he’s subjected to horror daily. Just yesterday he had been borderline tortured, but he waved it off. It hadn’t been a big deal, anyways.
This, however, this fictional movie was horrifying. Peter was shaking slightly.
A blanket was thrown at him, and he pulled it off of his face. He looked up to see Bucky staring at him. “Thanks,” he said, wrapping himself up. “It’s… cold.” It really wasn’t, but if that’s why Bucky thinks he’s shaking, he won’t correct him.
Then, the jumpscares started. The suspense was one thing, just slightly unbearable. But then the jumpscares started, and Peter couldn’t breathe. He really was too tired for this.
At one part, Peter couldn’t help his reflexes. As soon as the woman jumped out, he threw himself under his blanket and pushed his head into his knees.
Then, he felt a hand against his back. He ripped the blanket off to see a concerned Tony looking at him. “Pete?” he whispered, careful not to disturb the others, but everyone was already looking, except Natasha, who had the sense to give him some privacy.
“Yeah?” he asked, playing it cool. “What, need more popcorn?” He snatched the red bowl out of his hands. “I’ll go get some.”
“I got it,” Steve said, who was already into the kitchen.
Peter huffed, falling back on the couch. He stared at the movie in defeat.
Steve returned with multiple bowls and passed them out to everyone. With a thanks, Peter grabbed his bowl, but he tilted his head when Steve held out a bottle to him. “Here,” he said, pushing it into his hand.
“What is it?” Peter asked, starting to twist off the cap. He peered inside at the yellow-green cup and cringed.
“It’s tea,” he replied, sinking into his seat.
“Why’d you make me tea?” he asked, forgetting his manners for a moment. “Thanks,” he added, still sounding lost.
Steve just shrugged. “Shh!” Clint hissed, throwing a piece of popcorn at Peter.
Peter rolled his eyes and sunk back into the couch with the bottle pressed against his lips. He sucked on it, finding it was some type of green tea. He didn’t like the taste at first, but he felt rude to ignore it. He absent mindedly sipped on it while watching the movie, and then he just didn’t stop.
Another jumpscare came, and Clint almost jumped out of his seat. He hissed and grabbed on to Natasha for comfort. She patted his shoulder after popping another piece of popcorn in her mouth. “This is scary,” he hissed. “This is why I wanted to watch Brave.”
“It’s not,” she said, and Clint shoved her in the shoulder.
“You’re not paying attention,” he hissed back.
She shrugged because it was true. She couldn’t help but stare at Peter, who was finally dozing off. “Poor kid,” she mumbled.
Peter’s eyes were fluttering shut. He’d started awake every so often, only for his eyes to close again.
Everyone, minus Peter, had heard their side conversation and noticed Peter by now. “Steve, what the hell did you put in his drink?” Sam asked, snickering. “Kid’s out like a light!”
“Huh?” Peter asked, rubbing his eyes. “Did you say my name?”
Tony snorted, realizing Peter is now associating “kid” as his own name. “No one said anything,” he assured him, and Peter weakly nodded. Eyes open, he settled back into the couch.
Before he knew it, Peter had drifted off into sleep again. This time, he started leaning to his right, and eventually his head knocked Tony in the shoulder. “Don’t. Move,” Bucky seethed, whispering.
Tony froze. “Is he…?”
“He’s out, out,” Sam clarified, looking over Tony’s side. “What’d you give him?”
“Some decaf green tea,” Steve shrugged. Then, he added, “With a little bit of melatonin.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “His metabolism--”
“It’s the right amount,” Tony clarified.
“You were both in on this?” Sam asked. “Damn, that’s sneaky.”
“You all saw him,” Tony said. “It was Steve’s idea.”
The movie roared, and Peter, still asleep, twisted as his face scrunched up in pain. Tony wrapped a what was supposed to be comforting arm around him, but Peter was already writhing around. He twisted and just didn’t stop. Tony dug his hands under his armpits and pulled the boy until he was sitting on his lap with his legs pointed towards Bucky. In his sleep, Peter moved his head into Tony’s neck for more comfort.
Tony didn’t dare move. That was, until another loud scene happened, and Peter fell back, laying flat on Tony’s and now Sam. “Turn it off,” Steve ordered, and the movie was off in an instant. No one seemed to protest, not even Clint, as everyone was more focused on Peter.
“I’m going to put him to bed,” Steve announced, taking Peter off of the couch. Steve carried him into the hallway where all the Avengers’s rooms were. He kicked the door open as gently as he could before moving to drape him across.
As he moved to set him down, Peter’s grip tightened. “Please,” he cried in his sleep, latching on with his spider strength. “I…”
“Shh,” Steve hushed, moving to set him down, which was a very bad move apparently because Peter cried out louder this time.
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding him tight again. He walked back into the communal area, earning strange looks. “He just… won’t.”
“He can’t sleep in here,” Tony protested.
“He won’t let me put him down,” Steve shrugged. “He’s… sticky.” He went to drop Peter, and everyone tensed.
“Just sit with him until he’s not sticky,” Sam suggested.
“It could be hours before it fades,” Bruce said.
Steve let out another sigh. “He got visibly upset the second I left you guys.” He adjusted his grip on the light boy. “Unless you’d rather him wake up…”
“No, no,” Sam said. “Sit him down.”
“No, Steve,” Tony protested. “Hand him over.”
“I can’t,” he said, frustrated.
Natasha put a finger over her lips. “Shut up before you wake him,” she warned.
“He’s not waking up,” Bruce said confidently, but Peter’s stirring made him rethink his previous statement. “Okay, maybe not…”
“He’s having a nightmare,” Steve said, frowning.
“Because you all are fussing,” Natasha scolded. “Stop being a baby and cuddle the poor boy before I do.”
Steve surrendered and moved to lay on the recliner, and Tony chucked the empty popcorn bucket as hard as he could. Natasha hissed as he missed his target and hit Peter in the forehead.
All the hearts stopped as they waited for Peter’s eyes to open. When they remained shut, they all sighed out of relief.
“What’s your problem?” Steve spat.
“He’s not sleeping in a chair, and neither are you,” Tony retorted. “Lay him down in a real bed.”
Even more frustrated, Steve growled, “We can’t, Tony. He won’t let me.”
“Steve, just,” Tony griped, standing up. “Hand him over.” Tony reclaimed the sleeping boy. Peter mumbled something in his sleep that sounded suspiciously like “dad” before whining. “Come on, kid.”
Unlike Steve, Tony didn’t have the power of super strength. Thankfully, he sticked to a regular workout routine, so he was at least able to hold him over his shoulder as he walked into an room, which was thought to be unused by the others.
The movie long forgotten, the Avengers stared after Tony. He turned on a calming light, a fairy string which changed colors periodically, and tucked Peter under the soft covers. Peter still wouldn’t let go, but this time he simply snaked a fistful of clothes.
“How’d he do that?” Steve hissed from the doorway. “He took him right from me.”
Peter lay in the abnormally sized bed, which took up most of the room. His head rest in Tony’s lap. His face contorted in pain. “Tell the others to hurry up and get in bed,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.
“You mean…?”
“Yes,” he finished. “Mandatory cuddle party.”
The others did their own nightly routine, and they found themselves collapsing on the enormous bed. Clint took the soft cusion at the bed end. Natasha slept near him, her hand falling off the foot of the bed.
Tony sat up on the far right with Peter writhing across the middle. Eventually, Steve returned with his own cup of tea in hand. He sunk down to Peter’s left with Bucky on his side.
With the others’ comfort surrounding him, Peter seemed to relax more. “Sam, get in here,” Steve ordered.
As if on cue, Sam peeked his head from where he was standing outside the door. He hesitated before approaching. Tony patted the empty spot between Peter and Natasha. With a confused look on his face, he settled on the bed. Peter had moved at the sudden sink in the bed and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
They all drifted off, but not all had sleep come easy to them. Steve had to push some of the tea to Bucky for him to finally drift off.
Tony, never one for sleep, sat up, which Peter just wasn’t having.
Sam couldn’t sleep either due to his obvious discomfort of the situation. A blanket was draped over his legs, and when he looked, he saw Peter, awake, staring at him. “Shh,” he whispered, smiling. Sam, stunned, watched as Peter tucked him in before tucking Tony into his shared blanket.
You little shit, Sam thinks, mouthing the words. Peter only smirks in response as he cuddles against Tony. Stunned, Sam’s mouth hangs open.
Peter only pulls him closer under the blanket where his back is against Steve’s and he’s facing Peter.
Peter lets out a yawn before snuggling closer to the group and falling asleep.
None of them had a nightmare that night.