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Peter’s sides ache by the time he finally manages to open his eyes.
His heart is racing, chest heaving as he gasps, sitting up in his bed and blinking in the blue-gray glow of his Arc Reactor night light, the shadows along his far wall seeming to climb higher and higher with each muffled sob.
The dreams were always the same.
The same building crumbling around him, Toomes’ mocking laughter echoing through the rubble, the remains pressing against him from all sides; the same cold, rain-soaked concrete digging into his knees as he kneels beside his bleeding, dying uncle, the same dark, chilled terror freezing Tony’s eyes as Peter had crumpled to ash in his arms. . .
Sucking in a harsh gasp, Peter lets it out another low sob, ducking his head down as he shivers. He curls his arms across his middle, gripping the fabric of his sleep shirt in a white-knuckled hold, his comforter pooling around him, sheltering him like a dark blue wave.
Through the loud buzz of his own heartbeat in his ears, the spiderling can vaguely make out the sound of his bedroom door opening, but he doesn’t look up, too afraid of the horror flashing behind his eyes escaping and flooding throughout his dark room instead.
“Petey?” Morgan’s voice, although a whisper, startles the teen and he jerks up.
“Uh--” The spiderling sniffs, reaching up with a shaking hand to rub at his eyes. His face flushes when Morgan steps closer. “What are you--What are you doing up?”
“I heard you crying.” Morgan frowns in that cute but confused way only a 6-year-old can muster, her dark eyes reflecting the faint glow of the night light in the corner. “Did’ya have a bad dream?”
Peter shakes his head, watching as his little sister finally seems to give in and crawls onto his bed, pushing the covers out of the way with her hand. Huffing out a small laugh, Peter scoots over, allowing Morgan to settle herself against his side.
“Comfy, Morg?” Peter asks once his sister stops wiggling.
“You’re squishy.” Morgan confirms the statement by poking Peter in the ribs, causing the older boy to let out a grunt. “Do you want me to get Daddy?”
“N-No.” Peter sighs, weakly batting away Morgan’s little fingers away from his sides. “And stop poking me, you turd.”
“Or what?” Morgan’s grin is wide, her dark eyes sparkling in mischief and Peter can’t stop a wet laugh from escaping.
“I’m gonna--” Looking around his room, Peter points to where his newest LEGO set sits, the pieces still cluttered around the half-formed base. “--put all of those LEGOs in your bed.”
Morgan gasps. “But-But that’s mean!”
“Yeah, well,” Peter shrugs. “So’s digging your little finger into my ribs. Dad definitely isn’t gonna be happy when I tell him how much you hurt me, stink-bug.”
“I’m not a stink-bug!” Morgan pouts, curling up further under the covers. “You’re the stink-bug.”
“Oh, no, no, kiddo.” Peter laughs, sniffling. “I’m a spider. You, on the other hand, are a cute stink-bug.”
Morgan seems to settle down after a few more seconds of wiggling, playing with the hem of Peter’s shirt as the eldest of the two swallows, reaching up to wipe away the leftover tears still staining his cheeks. His heart is still thudding in his chest, however, his hands shaking slightly as he lifts his pillow, fluffing the fabric out until it’s just firm enough for him to lean comfortably against.
The darkness is still thick around both of them, creeping closer around the edges of Peter’s vision no matter how many times he blinks.
“Are you sure you don’t need Daddy?”
Morgan glances up at Peter, her eyes narrowed and she seems to study his face. Peter, for his part, just stares down at his sister, cheeks heating in embarrassment despite the fact that Morgan, being 6-years-old, has woken up in worse conditions before.
“No--” Peter starts, clearing his throat when his voice cracks, just a bit. He sniffs. “I’m-I’m okay, seriously.”
Morgan doesn’t look impressed. “Then why’re you crying again?”
“I’m not--”
Bringing his hand up to his face, Peter shivers when he feels the familiar wetness of tears against his fingers. Sniffling, the teen makes no attempt to stall Morgan as she carefully climbs from his arms, her small chirp of “be right back, Petey” getting almost lost in the spiderling’s new round of cries.
It’s when familiar, warm hands cup his cheeks that Peter allows himself to sob.
“Shh, shh,” Tony soothes, slipping onto the bed and gently pulling Peter against his side, cradling his son’s head against his chest. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Calm down, buddy, shh.”
“I’m s-sorry--” Peter whimpers once he’s calmed down a little, nuzzling as close as possible, curling up against Tony, swallowing down another sob when his father just shakes his head, pressing a sweet kiss against his temple. "Dad--"
“Don’t apologize, kiddo.” Tony says before turning toward where Morgan still stands, the little girl rocking back on her heels. “Your little sister came running into my room like a crazy monkey. Said Peter was--what was it you said, Morgan?”
Morgan creeps closer when Tony gestures toward her with his free hand, gently curling up against the genius’s other side.
“Pete was having a-a bad dream, Daddy. He was, he-what’s the, uh, the grownup word for a bad dream again?”
Tony’s voice is soft, chest rumbling against Peter’s cheek. “A Nightmare?”
Morgan nods, chestnut locks flying. “Yeah! He was having a nightmare and-and you always say to come and get you if I’m scared.”
“That’s right, sweetheart.” Tony cuddles both of them closer, ducking his head to gently kiss each of their foreheads, smiling when Morgan giggles. “Who else is going to make sure both of my kids are safe and sound, huh?”
“Pepper?” Peter says, voice muffled by Tony’s nightshirt. He squirms when Tony lightly flicks his ear. “Ow!”
“Okay, Mr. Sass, I guess you don’t want any hot chocolate, huh?”
Morgan perks up, nearly vibrating out of her skin and she almost knocks her head against Tony’s chin as she sits up, dark eyes wide. “If I cry, Daddy, can I get some hot coco too?”
Tony laughs, gently standing up and pulling Peter to his feet when the spiderling nods, wrapping one arm around his eldest child’s shoulders and heaving Morgan onto his hip with his other. Peter follows him, leaning against the man’s side as they all make their way toward the kitchen, Tony flicking lights on as they go.
“Two cups of Stark’s specialty hot chocolate coming right up!” He says, carefully disposing Morgan back on the ground when the young girl wiggles, pointing toward the living room when Peter hesitates. “Go make yourself comfortable, bubba, I’ll be there in just a second, okay?”
Peter nods, allowing Morgan to carefully lead him over to the couch. Sitting down on the smooth leather, the teenager grabs the remote, flipping the television on when Morgan flashes her best puppy eyes his way. Quickly navigating to Disney+ before his sister can start pleading, Peter chooses Brother Bear from the menu, ignoring Morgan’s whine.
“Wanted to watch Frozen .” The girl pouts.
“We can watch it later, Morg.” Tony remarks before Peter can open his mouth, the billionaire carefully scooting around his kids, two cups of steaming hot chocolate carefully balanced in both hands. “It’s your brother’s turn to pick the movie anyways. Now scoot over.”
Doing as her father says, the youngest Stark takes her cup of cocoa once Tony nods his permission, blowing the slight steam still admitting from the top before taking a sip and slouching back, tucking herself against Tony’s side. The superhero shakes his head at her antics, tucking one arm around her shoulders before turning toward his other kid.
Peter nods his thanks when the genius hands him his cup. “You didn’t have to do this, Dad.”
Tony shrugs, curling his other arm around his son’s shoulders, tugging the boy until he’s propted underneath the genius’s chin, cuddled against his chest. “I wanted to. It’s not everyday I get to hold and feed both my babies at once, afterall.”
Peter blushes but doesn’t argue, just nuzzles closer. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate, enjoying the smooth warmth against his tongue, all three family members watching as Kenai ducks under a fallen log to get away from the caribou racing toward him on-screen.
“You know--” Tony’s voice is nearly a whisper, rumbling against Peter’s cheek as the man carefully smoothes his curls back with his fingers. “--you could have woken me up, kiddo. I want to help you.”
Peter shrugs, taking another slow sip of his drink before answering. “Didn’t wanna bother you, not about stupid bad dreams.”
“They aren’t stupid, bambino . Not when it comes to you. Never.”
“Morgan probably wakes you up enough as it is.” Peter argues, briefly glancing across his father toward where the little girl sits, her youthful face flashing in the cartoon colors. “I-I didn’t want--I’m not--”
“You’re my son.” Tony’s voice is firm, but the kiss he places against Peter’s temple is soft and the spiderling blinks away a few stray tears, discreetly wiping his eyes against the soft cotton of the superhero’s shirt. “Morgan’s my daughter. Pepper’s my wife. Rhodey and Happy are my brothers.”
Tony takes a deep breath, chest expanding under Peter and the boy sniffs, reaching up to grip the hem of his father’s shirt in his fingers. Tony smiles against his forehead.
“You are--all of you are the most important people in my life. The most precious to me. Irreplaceable. I have an extra heart, bubba, there is more than enough room for all of you, trust me. I love you , Peter.”
This time, Peter doesn’t allow himself to hesitate.
“I love you too, Dad.”