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Peter often finds himself gasping awake from nightmares about his parents and what they would think of him now, or when his aunt and uncle died and he somehow managed to be sneaky enough to slip by CPS because there was no way in the world he was going to be down for that. There’s nights where he shoots up gasping, soaked in sweat in the dark, and he forgets that it’s not just another rainy night in the alley until he clutches the sheets on his bed so hard his fingernails dig into his hand, and then it clicks into his head that he’s hot, not freezing, and he has three blankets on because it’s cold outside and Tony is paranoid.
He never forgets about Tony, though.
But tonight, waking up was different. It wasn’t shooting up in bed covered in sweat, it wasn’t just his eyes shooting open and having to take a few moments to breathe and calm down from seeing his dead relatives haunting him before going back to sleep.
Tonight he woke up and thought he was back in the room. He grips the sheets and blankets like usual, but it doesn’t help enough and suddenly around his mouth starts to tingle and both of his hands shoot up to touch his face. He only calms down when he realizes that there’s nothing on it and that he can, in fact, move his mouth. He knew the nightmares about the room would start eventually, but now being muzzled and shot seems like it was so long ago but it also feels like it could have happened yesterday, despite his multiple times checking on the bullet wound only to find it gone.
He remembers then that he spent so much time alone in that room that that’s why the sinking feeling won’t go away, why his heartbeat won’t slow down. He doesn’t want to be alone. He didn’t recognize the feeling at first, he guesses, because he hasn’t felt like this in a long time. But this time, his Uncle Ben isn’t here to chase the monster out from under his bed and wrestle it. His Aunt May isn’t here to wake him up and rock him back and forth in the bed and whisper reassurances in his ear until he falls back asleep. And his parents definitely aren’t here to tell him that everything will be okay, that they’ll always be there, that they’re not going anywhere for a long time. He’s lost every blood relative he’s ever had.
A single tear rolls down his face and lands on his hand.
He knows what he wants but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to do it.
He moves his hands and gulps. “F-” does he really want to do this?
“ Peter, your heart rate seems to be elevated. ” the AI says anyway. “Would you like me to alert Mister Stark?”
“Oh! Um, no. Just-” Peter stumbles over the words. “Just-um, could you tell me where he is?”
“Of course, Peter. He is in the lab.”
“Okay. Um, thank you.” he says awkwardly. He’s still trying to get used to the fact that Tony just . . . has a talking ceiling.
“Of course, Peter.”
Right.
He finally works up the courage to throw the covers off of him and get out of the bed. He plants his bare feet on the floor and stands up, cold suddenly. He looks back at where he had been sleeping comfortably before his brain had decided that he wasn’t allowed to sleep peacefully anymore and came up with a nightmare for him to have. Stupid brain.
He starts to make his way down the hallway and over to the stairs that lead down to where Tony’s upper level lab is (Peter’s still not sure if he understands how his penthouse floor has a downstairs while being upstairs, but he’s also never really bothered to ask) and heads down the stairs towards the glass door. He doesn’t see Tony in there at first, and jumps when the door opens automatically. Peter knows he has access to this lab, but he’s just going to assume that the door was FRIDAY’s doing. He steps in slowly and looks around, only to find Tony passed out on the couch on the far wall.
Peter feels bad, suddenly, because Tony has nightmares that are most likely much worse than his and it seems the man is actually sleeping peacefully for once. Peter doesn’t want to ruin that just because he woke up thinking he couldn’t move his mouth.
He goes to turn around and leave, but at that same time Tony yawns and stretches and blinks his eyes open. He squints in Peter’s direction. “Pete?”
Peter turns towards him sheepishly, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. Which is weird because he’s been living with Tony for a while now. “Hi.” he says quietly, bouncing on his toes awkwardly.
“What’re you doing up, buddy? It’s almost three in the morning.”
Was it? He hadn’t checked the time when he woke up from this nightmare, too busy trying to convince himself that he made it out of the alley and the room.
“Could ask you the same thing.” Peter grins sheepishly, trying to joke. Tony just looks at him.
“Your eyes are red.” Tony says. “Have you been crying?”
“What? No.” Peter replies, trying to play off the fact that Tony just hit the nail on the head.
“Peter woke up approximately twenty minutes ago with an elevated heart rate and was somewhat distressed.” FRIDAY ever so not-so-helpfully pipes in.
“Huh.” Tony says. “What for?”
“I believe he had a nightmare, sir.”
Crap.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Not long sir, only a couple of times. He hasn’t stayed awake after one like this before.”
“Buddy, why didn’t you tell me you were having nightmares?”
Peter shrugs. “They weren’t that bad, and I wasn’t having them that often.”
Tony rolls his eyes. “ All nightmares are bad, Pete. Even if they’re not that bad.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does.”
“Mmm . . . no. I’m pretty sure it does not.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tony asks suddenly.
“No,” Peter replies, shaking his head. “not right now.”
“Okay, that’s okay. I won’t make you, and I won’t rush you.”
“Oh, um, thanks, Mister Stark.”
“You have got to just start calling me Tony, Underroos.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Tony reassures him. “Is there anything I can do? To make you feel better, I mean.”
“Oh, uh . . . well . . .” Peter starts to rub his arms with his hands and looks to the side, and apparently Tony receives a message Peter wasn’t even trying to send.
“Come here.”
Peter looks at Tony again, knowing the surprise and confusion was bright and clear in his eyes and face. “What?” he asks quietly.
“Come here.” Tony says again, waving Peter over with his arm and then extending them towards him. Peter walks over to Tony and Tony stands, and Peter just, embarrassingly enough, falls into the hug.
“It’s okay, kid. You’re okay.”
Peter sniffles, eyes welling up again. He closes his eyes for a second, opens them and then says, “I thought I was back in the room.”
“The room . . . ?” Tony says quietly, then understanding blossoms over his face. “Where I . . . you . . . ?”
Peter nods. “Yeah. I thought it was the alley at first, like it was dark and raining, because I was sweating, and then my mouth started tingling because of the . . . yeah.”
“I still have nightmares about that.” Tony admits.
“I’m sorry for growling at you like that, by the way. They said you forgot about me and weren’t looking.”
Tony shakes his head. “Never, kid. I’ll always look for you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Peter chuckles. “I guess I’ll have to make sure to stick around.”
Tony steps back and just looks at him. “You did not.”
“What?” Peter says, grinning. “What didn’t I do?”
“I’m gonna–you know what? I’m gonna have a blast coming up with ways to block your terrible Spider-Man puns.”
“Hey!” Peter replies, faking offense. “Your Iron Man ones are worse!”
“No they are not!”
“Yes they are too!”
“It’ll be a blast if you stick around, kiddo.”
Peter blinks at him. “Mister Stark, I promise I’m not going anywhere, but that pun was awful.”