Work Text:
It’s three in the morning when Tony hears footsteps on the stairs.
He doesn’t move from his position by the fire, half his focus still remaining on the tablet in his hand. He hasn't gone to bed yet, hoping that getting some work done would bore his body into feeling tired. So far, he hasn’t had much luck. The rain is light outside, but strangely soothing with the fire next to him. A few seconds later, he looks up, and Peter is standing in the doorway.
Tony's heart constricts at the sight. He’s in the oversized iron man pyjamas that the entire team loves to tease him about, and Tony’s old MIT sweatshirt that he gave him all those nights ago.
“Hey kiddo,” he keeps his voice soft, unwilling to break the spell that seems to fall over everything at this time of the morning. He picks up his tablet, putting it slowly onto the table next to him. “Can’t sleep?”
Peter shakes his head, shuffling his feet slightly, and Tony raises his eyebrows. Usually, no matter what time of the morning, the kid has more to offer than head movements. He hasn’t seen Peter in a while during the night. The therapy has been helping, he’s been sleeping more. Apart from tonight, it seems.
“Nightmare?” His voice is low, the same soft tone that he uses for Morgan when she’s crying.
Peter nods, still standing by the door, hands swallowed by the sleeves. It’s this sight that prompts Tony into his next words
“You going to stand there all night kid?”
There’s a flicker of a smile before it’s gone, and he shakes his head again, padding towards where Tony is sitting. The billionaire pats the tiny bit of space next to him in the armchair.
“Up you come.”
He expects Peter to squeeze in next to him, as he’s done so many times before. But to his surprise, the teenager clambers straight onto his lap, curling up and burying his head in his shoulder. He feels his arm wrap around him, thin but always stronger than he expects.
“Kid?” There’s a humming sound which he assumes is an answer. “You okay?”
He feels Peter nod against his chest, digging his nose into his shirt and shuffling closer. Tony can’t decide if he wants to cry or laugh. He lifts his hand, combing it through the messy curls, and the teenager relaxes against him with a sigh.
“Want to talk about the dream?” His voice is still no louder than a whisper, and Peter shakes his head.
“You going to say anything?” The kid curls his fingers tight around the collar of his shirt, and when he speaks, his voice is muffled against his chest.
“No.”
Tony bites back a smile, moving his fingers in small circles against his head.
“That’s a little contradictory don’t you think?”
Peter shrugs, nestling even closer and wrapping his arms more securely around the billionaire.
“Don’t care.”
“Someone’s clingy today,” he says softly.
“Mmm” He can feel Peters breaths against his neck, warm huffs of air that are weirdly soothing. He allows his eyes to close, and they sit like that for a while, the occasional crackle of fire and the steady pattern of rain being the only noises in the room.
Eventually, Peter breaks the silence, voice heavy with sleep but still coherent.
“Mr Stark?”
“Tony,” he says without thinking, not missing a beat.
“Tony,” the teen amends, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “Can I ask you something?”
He raises his eyebrows, brushing some hair away from his face.
“Sure kiddo. Go for it”
“Are you afraid of the dark?”
That gives him pause for a second, and he considers his answer. No, he finally thinks. Not anymore. The dark doesn’t hold anything to be afraid of for him anymore, though he can’t say the same for himself ten years ago.
“No,” he eventually says quietly. “I used to be terrified, but I’m not scared of it anymore”
There’s a beat of silence, and he can almost feel Peters brain working.
“It didn’t used to scare me,” Peter says quietly, so quietly that he would have missed it if the room hadn’t been so silent.
“But?” Tony prompts gently.
Peter shakes his head, closing his eyes. “You started leaving the hall light on.”
Tony frowns slightly. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
He isn’t really sure. Why had he? It had been an instinct. He had just had a feeling. In the end, Tony settles for a shrug.
“I don’t know. I just did.” He tilts his head to the side, looking at the kid curled up on top of him. “But… You are?”
Peter nods against his chest, and not for the first time that night, the billionaire is hit with the urge to cry. He keeps his voice quiet, soothing.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
It’s Peter’s turn to shrug now, hiding his head in his shirt. Tony shifts his grip slightly so that he’s somewhat sitting up, and lifts the teen’s chin with one finger, forcing him to meet his gaze. Peter blinks hard, and Tony’s throat is tight when he sees the tears in his eyes.
“Hey,” he says softly, brushing away one as it falls. “There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Being afraid doesn’t make you weak.”
When the kid’s voice comes back to him, it’s quiet.
“You’re not afraid of the dark.”
He laughs slightly, smoothing the curls away from his face and dragging the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones. He isn’t sure when he became the sort of person who provided any sort of physical comfort. Maybe when he had brought children into the equation.
“Kid, I might not be afraid of the dark, but I’m afraid of lots of other things.”
Peter gives him a doubtful look. “Oh yeah?”
“Uh huh,” he says with a half smile. “Did you know I don’t like water?”
Peter has taken hold of his hand, and is twisting his wedding ring gently around his finger. The action reminds him of Morgan, of how when she was a baby, she would reach for his hands just for the sake of it. The teen glances up at him again.
“From Afghanistan, right?”
“Yeah. I hate it. Can’t go swimming, can’t put my head underwater.” He looks at Peter, who is currently staring up at him with eyes far too full of a hero worship that he doesn't really deserve at all. “Do you think I’m weak?”
Peter recoils slightly, the look in his eyes changing quickly to shock. “No. No way.”
He shrugs, giving him another smile, a smile that only some people would ever see. “Then there you have it. Being afraid doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.”
The teen blinks once, twice, staring at him with eyes that seem both far too old and far too young at once. And then he goes right back to the position he had previously been in, and pushes his head into the crook of Tony’s neck.
“Thank you.” The words are whispered, and he knows that he wouldn't have been able to hear them if the room hadn’t been so silent.
“Always welcome kiddo.” He resumes his untangling of Peter’s hair, and feels the kid relax into his arms once again.
A few minutes later, Peter breaks the silence again, curling his fingers tightly around the billionaire’s shirt.
“Tony?”
He makes a humming noise that passes for an answer, and feels rather than sees the kid smile against his chest.
“Love you.”
He looks down at Peter, fighting the surge of emotion that’s just hit him with the force of a train. There had been a time, Tony thinks, when he had thought that a life like this wasn’t what he wanted. He had believed it wasn’t something he would ever deserve.
But if the universe could gift him Peter Parker, he must have done something right.
“Love you too kid,” he says softly, and he feels him sigh in content.
Sleep claims them both fast.
But Tony knows the dark won’t be a problem tonight.