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1.
Neither Peter nor Tony want to get off this couch.
And why should they when even just the thought of getting up and turning in for the night is too much work?
The two Starks have been lying on the couch cushions for the last hour, with Tony’s head against a pillow that’s propped on the armrest while his kid’s curly locks are resting on the elder’s chest, their breathing almost working in tandem without trying.
It’s a clear night, the moon shining bright through the windows of their lake house that makes the stars radiate like a welcome hug. A college basketball game is currently playing on TV but neither one knows or cares about which schools are playing. To be frank, it’s only on because they just watched a Frasier rerun and are too lazy to change the channel.
Tony feels his kid shiver so he grabs the fluffy purple blanket that’s draped over the sofa, making sure to tuck him in like a cozy cocoon. A smile escapes the boy and he wraps his arms around his dad’s torso, taking a corner of the blanket along with him.
“Thanks,” the teen says, his voice slurring with fatigue, “Now I’m comfy.”
“So you weren’t comfy before?” his father quips, “Well, now I’m offended.”
“You’re always comfy, you’re just now more comfy. If anything, I’m the one that’s keeping you warm.”
“The sacrifices you make for this family are truly something to be admired,” Tony says with a snort, “I’ll come to you if I ever freeze to death.”
“As you should.” Peter drags the blanket up to his neck while he strokes the other’s upper arm for additional love and body heat. “Are you comfy?”
The man tightens his grip around the boy’s back, using his free hand to start ruffling his hair. “With you? Always.”
That emits another tired smile from the tyke. “You’re like another blanket, it’s nice.”
“You say that every time we do this.”
“And it’s true every time. Not my fault you’re warm and cozy.”
“You’re no different, you know.”
“I know where I get it from.”
The two of them fall into a content silence, neither one paying attention to anything except each other. Warm static filters through Tony from head to toe and his already satisfied smile grows into a mile-wide beam.
That fuzzy feeling is something the man always finds himself craving, whether it’s 90 degrees outside or below freezing. There may be snow on the ground currently but the only warmth that makes him feel whole is right here and right now.
He starts ruffling the younger’s hair at the nape of his neck, smiling at his son emitting the smallest and most adorable of hums.
“This is nice,” Peter whispers.
“Yeah, I always look forward to this.”
“But this time’s better.” The teenager turns his head to look at his dad, a smile escaping him as he continues, “For some reason, this one feels better than the others.”
“So you felt it too, huh? Great minds think alike.”
Peter hums in agreement, his eyes drooping with sleep but he’s trying his best to stay awake. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I gotta go to bed.”
Said man tightens his grip on the tyke, making sure the blanket is swallowing him whole while increasing the head massages in an effort to keep him in place. “You are in bed,” he says.
Peter grunts in his reply. “Then what’s that room that has my bed in it?”
“A study, obviously. Doesn’t everyone keep a bed in their study?”
The boy fondly rolls his eyes. “Of course, what was I thinking?”
“This is why you keep me around, kiddo.”
“But the cuddles are more important.”
"Too true."
Peter doesn’t get up. He doesn’t even attempt to move so his dad can jokingly hold him back.
The eye droops grow fewer and farther between.
Tony finds himself staring at Peter instead of what’s left of the sports game. It probably comes off as creepy but he can’t help it, his son sleeping peacefully is a better view than anything shown on television.
He looks on as the droops come to a close, continuing to ruffle his son’s hair long after he succumbs to the slumber.
“Sleep tight, kiddo. Love you.”
Tony watches his favorite television program until his own eyes start to lull as well. One more kiss atop his son’s head and he’s asleep with a smile on his face. Sure, his head is awkwardly lolled to one side, and the throw pillow isn’t near as comfortable as the ones that are upstairs on his bed.
But he’s not about to wake up his kid from what already looks to be the best sleep he’s had in a while.
So, the kink in his neck will be well worth it.
2.
Peter finds himself exhausted one Friday night in his father figure’s workshop at the lake house.
He shouldn’t be surprised; he ate enough ravioli at dinner to feed a family of four and now that he’s finally able to unwind after a busy week at school, his energy is rapidly dwindling.
All he’s doing is making web fluid, however, he can do this in his sleep. Hell, he’s about doing that right now but it’ll only be a few more minutes to get these last vials filled and then he won’t have to worry about them for the rest of the weekend.
An unexpected sizzling sound is then heard and a brief burst of adrenaline overcomes the teenager. He was in the process of pouring the acid into a beaker but he completely missed and it’s now spread over the tabletop, melting the stainless steel before his very eyes.
“Shit!” the hero exclaims. He takes a step back to make sure none of the chemicals splatter on his pajamas and he has no choice but to helplessly watch the mixture dry on the work surface, resulting in an oblong oval-shaped hole that one can see clean through to the marble floor.
Peter’s shoulders slump in defeat, at a complete loss for how—or if—the worktable can be fixed.
“Mr. Stark,” he says, “I-I, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
He cuts himself off when he turns around, catching sight of his mentor leaning over an Iron Man suit with his head against his palm, and he looks to be…dozing off?
“Mr. Stark?” The teenager cautiously approaches him, noticing the light snore emitting from the older male which he has to admit is pretty funny.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter repeats, his increase in volume finally waking up his hero with a snap of his head.
“What?” Tony asks, unashamedly releasing a loud yawn while he grabs a wrench, seemingly unaware that he was just sleeping a few seconds before.
“I melted your table on accident.” The kid points to the worktable in question, wincing with growing embarrassment.
The young genius waits with bated breath as his father figure looks in that direction. The man’s eyes slowly droop with fatigue which makes the teen wonder if he's at all cognizant of his surroundings.
"We'll get another one," Tony drawls with a shrug, using his wrench to continue his project. Whatever that project is, Peter doesn't know or care which tells him he should go to bed alongside his mentor.
Peter sighs in relief but it soon turns into a yawn, evidence of that adrenaline draining as he speaks. "Mr. Stark?" he says, "I'm gonna go to bed."
"'Kay, 'night."
"Aren't you going to bed too?"
"Why should I, 'm not tired."
The tyke rolls his eyes. Is he, a sixteen-year-old, really having to be the adult in this situation?
"Mr. Stark, you look like you're gonna fall over. Unless you want to fall asleep on a metal suit.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time—”
“Tony,” Peter calls out, startling the other hero enough that he drops his wrench. The clang against the suit should have been loud enough to give them a second wind but both sets of eyes still look glazed over regardless.
“You’re going to bed,” the teenager continues. He walks around the worktable and starts lightly pushing his father figure out of the room, having to use some of his super strength when the man holds back.
“Pete,” Tony says with another yawn, “You’re being ridiculous.”
“How is me wanting you to sleep ‘ridiculous’? You’re being ridiculous for refusing to sleep.” Another yawn escapes the tyke. "You'll be down here in a few hours anyway, at least sleep a little."
"That's just time wasted—"
"Time will be wasted anyway when you fall asleep on the Iron Man suit."
They then enter the living room, with Peter literally pulling his mentor towards the stairs but an unexpected force has him falling onto the couch cushions.
"Wha—" Peter cuts himself off with a grunt that is his father figure plopping onto the sofa himself, wrapping his arms around his kid’s torso and dragging him to a horizontal position on the couch cushions.
“Mr. Stark,” the teen says, giggling at this absurd situation, “What are you doing?”
All he gets is a snore in response. The teen carefully turns to see his hero now in a deep sleep behind him, with his head just butting up against the armrest.
His arms are still snug around the kid’s middle.
And who is Peter to deny the comfort that Iron Man obviously needs?
With that in mind, the spider-boy grabs the purple blanket that’s draped over the top cushions and tucks them in as much as he’s able, forgoing any attempt at grabbing a throw pillow since Tony knocked them off of the other end.
The couch is so comfy that Peter finds a pillow isn’t needed. The security blanket that is his mentor’s body heat causes his eyes to start drooping once again. Pair that with the snoring and the tyke is out in seconds.
It’s the best sleep the two of them have had in weeks.
3.
Tony doesn’t need FRIDAY to know his protege is in distress.
He’s walking to his bedroom to turn in for the night when he takes a quick peek inside Peter’s room to check on him, noticing how the teen isn’t lying still, the way his face is scrunched with fear that makes the man unsure if the nightlight on the other side of the room is doing any good.
Spider-Man is having a nightmare.
Too many possibilities flood the man’s brain as to what this dream could be about. Just the fact that there are several situations to choose from fills his chest with more hurt than he’d care to admit.
But it’s a cakewalk compared to the current state of his charge.
The billionaire kneels onto the floor to meet the kid’s eye level. Ever so gently, he starts shaking the other’s shoulder. “Pete?” he says softly, “You can wake up, buddy, it’s okay.”
While still in his sleep, Peter slams his head against the pillow, tightening his grip on the purple comforter so his father figure increases the movement of putting the tyke out of his misery.
“Peter, wake up.”
The spiderling comes to with a gasp, quickly rolling on his back while his eyes scan the room. When he catches sight of his hero, he emits a sigh of relief along with a grateful smile. “Thanks,” he mumbles.
“Don’t mention it,” Tony says with a smile, “Wanna talk about it?”
Peter shakes his head. “Same ol’ shit anyway.”
I really don’t like that I don’t know which one means the “same.”
“‘Nuff said,” the mechanic replies, “You gonna be alright going back to bed?”
The teenager grabs his father figure’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Can you stay?” He looks up at the older man, giving him a look so innocent it could rival that of a golden retriever puppy.
Tony ruffles his kid’s hair, a heartfelt smile spreading across his face. “How can I say ‘no’ to that?”
Peter gives him a beam in return. He scoots to the other side of his bed and the elder climbs in, making himself at home as he tucks in under the covers. The tyke curls himself into the other’s side and it’s then that Tony realizes he’s shaking, clearly still shaken up from whatever memory he had to relive.
Tony starts lovingly stroking the other’s back, hoping the shared body heat will be enough to calm this kid down and get him back to sleep. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, “I promise.”
The teen grabs hold of his mentor’s shirt in a loose grip, taking deep breaths with exhaustion growing into each one. “You’re the best.”
“No, you are.” The armored hero kisses him on the top of his head. “I’ve missed this, it’s been awhile.”
“Yeah, same.” Peter then says with a yawn, “We gotta do this more often.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
The rest of the night is spent in relaxed silence, the two of them using the safety of each other’s comfort to finally drift off to sleep.
Is it too much to ask for this every night?
Something tells me the kid won’t mind.
4.
Tony doesn’t wish “anxiety days” on his worst enemy.
Ever since he woke up this morning, he’s been jumpy and on edge, hardly able to pay attention to the meeting he had earlier. His mouth is still dry as a desert despite spending his day guzzling down too much water that has led to too many annoying bathroom visits.
His anxiety spells don’t typically last the whole day so Tony thought he’d feel better by the time he picks up his kid from school. Here he is, however, bouncing his leg against the floor mat of his car while his driver’s side window is cracked open to get some much needed air, even if it is 40 degrees outside.
Tony finds himself taking deep, long breaths to hopefully combat his increased heart rate, leaning back against the headrest while he takes another swig from his water bottle. Considering his bladder is already starting to nag him for yet another bathroom trip, this probably isn’t the wisest of decisions but what else can he do? His mouth is so dry.
The first true smile of the day forms when he sees his protege walking down the steps of the school and towards his car. It takes a moment to register but Tony notices the frown etched on Peter’s face, the way he’s both walking slowly and in a rush at the same time.
Both of us aren’t having a good day, this oughta be good.
The second the passenger side door opens, the armored hero is engulfed in a hug and on instinct, said man returns the embrace, making sure to match the force as that of the kid.
Tony can hear the shakiness in the boy’s breathing, much like his own has been all day.
Could it be?
Are they going through the exact same thing?
“Sorry,” Peter says as they separate, sitting on his hands as he leans onto the passenger’s headrest, “Ned’s home sick today and I just really, really needed a hug.”
“Me too,” Tony says, surprised at the quick confession. He holds out his water bottle. “Water?”
“Oh my God, yes.” The teenager grabs the bottle with his shaky hands and takes several swigs. “Fuck, nothing helps.”
“I hear that.”
“Seriously, I’ve done nothing but drink water today and I’m still thirsty. Do you know how many times I peed today?”
“Probably about as much as me.”
Peter’s head snaps to his mentor’s, his eyes widening in realization. “You too?”
“‘Fraid so.” Tony puts the car in reverse and leaves the Midtown parking lot, trying not to hold the steering wheel too tightly but his fingers will tremble if otherwise, so his knuckles start turning pale anyway. “All day?”
“Yeah.” The spiderling is back to sitting on his hands, his head hanging to one side while his eyes are closed with utmost exhaustion. “Why hasn’t it gone away yet?” he mumbles.
“It will.” The billionaire floors the gas as much as he can through the traffic, the only thought on his mind is sleep, the sweet freedom that is the beautiful couch in his lake house damn near calling both heroes’ names.
He can feel his own energy draining with each stoplight he hits and each brake has his kid waking up from what’s an attempt at a doze.
The anxiety is getting worse.
Well, maybe not. It’s probably exactly the same but Tony’s anxiety is making it seem worse than it is. All he knows is that he needs a couch or bed to rest on right now.
“I have to pee,” Peter then says with a groan, “This is so fucking annoying, like I literally just went before I left school.”
“Yeah, I have to go too,” Tony drawls, finally making the coveted right turn that’s one step closer to their destination, “And I went before I left to pick you up.”
Peter unexpectedly chuckles in his reply. “Why are we like this?”
“Could you imagine if outsiders knew about us?” the mechanic says with a snort, “We save lives but also have to pee every 20 minutes if you catch us on a bad day.”
“That could be in like a magazine, to be honest. ‘Even superheroes are just like you.’”
“I should get Steve to do that for one of his stupid PSAs.”
“Nah, you should.”
“Over my dead body.”
The laughter helps.
It doesn’t make everything go away of course, but it does mask just enough to get to their destination in one piece.
They soon find themselves on that amazing couch.
The lit fireplace is surrounding them with the heat their purple blanket can’t provide, along with the satisfying crackling of the wood that makes both sets of eyes droop with sleep.
Peter is in his father figure’s lap, with his arms wrapped around the other’s torso while Tony is lovingly stroking his kid’s back, his free hand ruffling the curls that are tickling the underside of his chin.
They don’t say much.
Their breathing is working in tandem, with one sounding more worn out than the last. Their heart rates are way too fast, to the point where even Tony can hear his kid’s heartbeats without needing to put his ear against his chest. The man’s fingertips are still trembling as he continues ruffling his kid’s hair but it’s not as bad now, thankfully.
This will pass eventually, whether they sleep it off or each other’s comfort works like magic, they won’t be in this anxious-ridden state forever.
But right now it sure as hell feels like it.
Peter carefully rests his head against his mentor’s chest, releasing a yawn which causes said man to do the same. “I should probably take a nap,” he says.
Tony instinctively tightens his grip on the tyke. “Sounds good to me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’tcha wanna lay down?”
“Nah,” the mechanic slumps into the couch cushion, giving him room to prop his socked feet onto the coffee table in front of them, “You make a good weighted plushie.”
“They make weighted plushies?”
“Yup. Say the word and I’ll get you an Iron Man one.”
The teenager snorts but it turns into another yawn. “Why get an Iron Man plush when I got the real thing right here?”
“D’aw shucks, I’m touched.”
“Is it bad that I’m a little glad you’re going through this too?” Peter says. He tightens his grip on his father figure. “It’s nice knowing I’m not alone.”
“Me too.” Tony kisses the top of his kid’s head. “If we’re suffering together, that means we’ll get over it together."
Neither one makes any move to end this cuddling session.
And hey, if both are on the verge of falling asleep, what’s the point in sleeping on their beds when this is already so warm and comfortable?
Sure, at least one of them will probably have to pee again within an hour’s time.
But until then, they’re perfectly content in taking solace in each other.