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May’s words were stuck churning in his mind like a broken record.
“Something’s bothering him, Tony. I don’t know what, but he’s hurting.”
Those words turned Tony’s blood to ice. He couldn’t stand the thought of Peter hurting in any way, even if it wasn’t physical. Heck, he of all people knew how badly emotional scars could be. He hated to think that Peter somehow landed himself in a traumatic situation, he was only sixteen, but given his choice in voluntary vigilante activities, it wasn’t that surprising.
Still, Tony hated to hear the kid was hurting. He would have done anything to prevent that from happening. But as it was, Tony couldn’t protect Peter from everything. It was something he was going to have to live with, but it wasn’t going to be easy. But he had to accept Peter was going to get hurt sometimes or else he would be too overly protective. Like horrible control-freak over-protective. He couldn’t do that to the kid. What he could do, however, was try to stop the hurt.
So here he was in May’s house, knocking on Peter’s bedroom door.
“He won’t open that damn door,” May was ranting. Her panic radiating from her to Tony with every curse word she uttered. “He won’t talk to me. He won’t even sleep! I hear him walking around in the kitchen at 4am. It’s the only time he leaves his room. I just hope he’s getting food for himself. I worry about him so much, you have no idea. See this is exactly why I was against his superhero activities. But no, he just had to convince me that everything was going to be fine. So I went along with it and now look at him. He’s closed off. Won’t even leave his room.”
Tony’s frown deepened and he knocked on the door again. “Do you know if anything happened at school? Maybe when he was out patrolling? Did he come home and say anything?”
“No, no, I have no idea what’s going on with him. One day he’s fine, and the next, he’s shutting himself away from the world.”
“You said on the phone something about a traumatic experience.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard him say through the door, at least that’s what I think he said.”
“Pete,” Tony called out loudly, but his fist gently rapped on the door, “Open up for me, will ya? I wanna talk to you.”
They waited in silence, hoping to hear Peter move from behind the door, but got nothing. Tony sighed, jiggling the door handle a little. “Come on, kid. I brought you some donuts.”
Ever so quietly, Peter twisted the door handle and creaked it open. Tony could see the dark bags under his eyes, heavy bruising color. Peter’s hair was a mess, his lips bitten and chapped. But mostly he just looked exhausted.
“Hey Mr. Stark,” he replied weakly. As if it required a serious amount of strength to speak.
“Damn, you look horrible.”
“Thank you, sir.” Peter blinked, letting his eyes stay shut for a little too long. “Thank you for the donuts.”
“Of course. I like surprising you with the latest and greatest flavors. You have to try the Hulk Blast, it’s green icing on a sugarcoated donut. Deliciously good. They should have a law against something so good.”
“Sounds great.” Peter’s voice was lacking it’s usual energetic enthusiasm. That bothered Tony, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he gracefully wondered into the teen’s bedroom glancing around.
Wow what a sight. May wasn’t kidding when she said he couldn’t sleep. The kid had his lights turned off and the blinds closed. The only light from the room was coming from his beat-up computer monitor. Speaking of his computer, Peter had a website pulled up with the 21 best ways to get a good nights sleep. His dressers were disorganized, stacks of books spread everywhere, homework sheets scattered, and a bunch of candy wrappers on the floor.
“Is this what you’ve been eating? Reese’s and KitKat bars?”
“Yeah. Plus a lot of candy apples.”
Peter had his Spider-Man mask lying on his bed. Tony guessed he was using it to block out noises and sight, like a sleeping mask only ten times better. Tony also realized his ears were picking up on a non-stop rainfall only it wasn’t raining outside. He turned to Peter’s little radio and shut it off.
“It’s like a tropical storm hit this place.”
“Mr. Stark?”
“Mhm,” Tony hummed, eyes still roaming around the kid’s room. He knew Peter was a teenager and sometimes he didn’t clean up after himself, but he also knew the kid was generally way more organized than this.
“Not that I don’t appreciate seeing you, cause I do, but why are you here?” Peter said, fiddling with the the bottom of his white t-shirt.
“Oh. I wanted to ask if you were interested in having a sleepover at my place?”
“Really?” A hint of excitement appeared on his face despite the exhaustion.
“Scouts honor.” Tony said, crossing his heart. “So, are you interested? Yes or no. I need an answer pretty quickly. My schedule books fast.”
Peter chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, something he must have been doing a lot of recently since his lips were so swollen and chapped.
“Okay. Nevermind. I’ll go ask Banner instead.” Tony mumbled, “You know, he loves sleeping over as long is it involves working in the lab.”
“Wait, Mr. Stark. I want to do it.”
“You want to go to my super awesome really amazing slumber party.” Tony was aiming for a smile, and he got one. It felt good to see Peter with a grin on his face again.
“I don’t think you should call it that. But yeah. I would love to, Mr. Stark.”
So it was set. Tony drove Peter to his place, and May was thrilled that Peter left his room for the first time in three days. She made Tony promise to keep in touch. He told her, he would.
Now, the real reason for this spontaneous sleepover was to get to the bottom of Peter’s most recent trauma, and no doubt, the reason he can’t sleep. But how to do it... Tony had no idea. He was just about the last person on earth who should be trying to play therapist. But for this boy he would try anything. He took on some responsibility for the kid when he asked for his help in Germany. He might as well try.
“You wanna tell me again why you brought your sleeping bag?” Tony asked, quirking an eyebrow at the more awake looking Peter. Though Tony could tell the excitement would fade eventually and Peter would be back to a walking zombie, it was nice to have him back to his old self for now. “I have multiple extra guest rooms with huge king size beds and yet, you bring a sleeping bag. Wanna tell me why?”
“I gotta go into full sleepover mode, Mr. Stark. Like how I do it with Ned. We make popcorn, lay on the floor in our sleeping bags, and watch movies until we fall asleep. It’s a great process.”
“Is that how you do it, huh?” Tony said to himself moreso than Peter. “Okay, well let me tell you something about reaching your forties. Your knees don’t exactly work the way they used to. So if you expect me to get on the ground and sleep, you’re going to be terribly disappointed.”
“Aw come on, Mr. Stark. It’s fun! I bet you never even had a sleepover when you were my age. At least not a proper one, with sleeping bags and junk food.”
“Come again?” Tony stopped walking when he reached the livingroom. “What makes you say that?”
Peter shrugged and placed his bag of belongings on the side of Tony’s couch. “I don’t know. You told me you didn’t have many friends, so I guess I just thought -“
“I never said that.” Tony couldn’t believe he would admit to something so vulnerable. That just wasn’t like him. Sure, maybe it was true. He was sent to boarding school when he was young. Older kids used to pick on him for being so smart and skipping a few grades. At home, he was never allowed to go out to any events other than his parents lame ass parties which were always full of rich people doing incredibly boring things (at least, he thought so when he was young.) Now he actually enjoys those rich parties, but that’s not the point. The point is, he never would admit to Peter his lack of friends. He wanted that kid to think the world of him.
“I had friends. I had plenty of friends.”
“You told me you were an outcast.”
“No I didn’t. When did I say that?” Tony shouted.
“When you were drunk.”
Damn, that sounded like something Tony would do.
“Got any video evidence?”
“No.“ Peter furrowed his eyebrows.
“Didn’t think so.” Tony clapped his hands. “So it didn’t happen.”
“But I remember because - because I was really upset.” Peter’s eyes were wide as he tried to explain. “Flash - Flash - I mean, you know that kid from school who sometimes picks on me? Well he had pulled another horrible prank on me and everyone at school was laughing and I came to the tower because I didn’t want to talk to May about it, cause I knew she would just baby me, and that’s when you told me you were an outcast too. Just like me.”
Tony’s lips tugged upwards, and he gently placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Okay. Maybe I was a little bit like you when I was younger. But that was so long ago, who can really remember? Am I right? Alright. Let’s get that popcorn made.”
“Got any Caramel apples?” Peter asked when entering his kitchen and going for the refrigerator. “Or pumpkin pie?”
“Not yet.” Peter turned to him with a pouty lip and accusation in his eyes. “I do have chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers though.”
“Yay!” Peter exclaimed. “We can make s’mores.”
While Peter pulled a soda from the refrigerator, Tony reached over his head and grabbed an ice cold Nitro Brew with homemade cream ale. It was the best kind of beer he’s ever tasted, and Tony needed it during November like he needed air. It became a tradition for him sometime back in the early 2000s when he visited Belgium on a business trip.
Taking a sip, Tony relished the deliciously smooth and roasty beer that puts a pep in his step. Maybe Peter should try some of it. That would surely wake him up.
Tony was about to offer, but thought better of it. He wanted to kid to sleep, not stay awake.
“Alright kid. Let’s get those movies picked out. Meet me in the lab when your done making the s’mores, we got work to do.”
They worked for a few hours, then Peter settled on an action movie, followed by two Harry Potter films. By the time they were finished it was beyond late, and Tony was secretly hoping the movies would put the kid to sleep. No luck.
Peter got out of his sleeping bag and shuffled over the the DVD player to take out the Harry Potter disc.
Tony, despite his age and aching knees, shifted on the floor in his sleeping bag so he could watch as Peter walked over to the movie shelf.
“I’m so glad Pepper bought all the Harry Potter movies.” Peter said, exchanging the second movie for the third.
“Whoa, hold up there, Marty McFly. It’s too late for another movie.”
“Mr. Stark, this is a sleepover.”
“Mr. Parker, it’s 3am.”
Peter jutted his lower-lip. “One more movie?”
“Nice try, but I’m not your Aunt. The whole kicked puppy thing doesn’t work on me.”
“But -“
“Peter, lay down. Come on, kid. I’m serious. I gotta get up early tomorrow.”
Sighing, Peter set the movie back in it’s rightful place and dragged his white socks against the carpet floor. An act of resistance? Was he really that afraid to go to sleep?
“But I’m not tired.” Peter whispered as he sat on his sleeping bag.
“Well I am, go to bed.”
Tony was hoping that Peter would have an easier time falling asleep if he was next to him. That’s what inspired this sleepover idea in the first place, but once again, Tony thought wrong. He disliked how often Peter made him wrong. Tony was a genius. He could figure out how to distort ion waves to redirect energy, but when it comes to figuring out Peter, his theories were often wrong.
Peter snuggled under his sleeping bag and wrapped his arms around the fluffiest pillow Tony could find for him. After a few seconds of the sleeping-bag rustling, Peter sat up and grabbed his cellphone.
“Kid. Go to bed.”
“You can go to sleep, Mr. Stark. I want to play my online scrabble game.”
“I’m sure your online friends are asleep.”
“Actually a few of them live in the UK which is a five hour time difference so they’re awake -“
Tony interrupted him by snatching the phone out of his hands. “FRIDAY, shut down all WiFi.”
Peter’s mouth was agape. “Y-You - hey - Mr. Stark -“
“You’re not even trying to go to sleep.” Tony said, voice rising. He tried to rein it in. The last thing he needed was to lash out on the kid.
Peter huffed, but laid under the sleeping bag turning his back to Tony. The clock was ticking slowly, rhythmically, as the minutes passed. Tony felt rather guilty for snapping. His guilt intensified when Peter let out a muffled whimper into his pillow.
Tony cracked an eye open so he could stare at the back of Peter’s mop of brown hair. He waited in the silence to see if the kid was going to speak or make another sound but he got nothing. Tony hoped perhaps that meant Peter was finally asleep. He closed his eyes. Tony was sure he had almost drifted off when he heard a second, louder whimper.
Sitting up immediately, Tony blinked in the darkness, then tapped Peter’s back.
“Kid? You alright?”
“Mhmm,” Peter whispered into his pillow.
“What’s wrong, Pete? Why are you whining?”
“Can’t sleep.”
“Why’s that?”
Peter shrugged under the blanket. “Don’t want to.”
“You don’t wanna sleep? Well... that much I figured. But you wanna tell me why?”
“No.” He whimpered again clutching his pillow tightly to his chest.
The air felt heavy and restless. This was when Tony was supposed to say something encouraging. If only Tony could ask his mother for advice, he would be doing so much better at this whole comfort thing. Funny thing is, Tony thought he knew everything at one point in his life. When he was a young twenty-something-year-old he thought he had the world figured out. He was a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. What more could he possibly need? He certainly didn’t need his parents advice. He hated asking his parents for advice when he was in college. He always thought they were wrong. Little did he know, the older he grew, the more he needed his parents advice everyday: how does he navigate a serious relationship, what was his father’s business intentions, and how might he try to raise a child?
As Tony’s thoughts were growing too loud, Peter rolled over and looked at his face as if waiting for him to say something as well.
Time was slipping away. This was it. Tony’s chance to talk about the trauma, so in the very typically Tony Stark fashion, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.
“Seems fairly obvious to me.”
Peter scrunched his eyebrows together. “Wh-What’s so obvious?”
“That you’re afraid to sleep.”
“What? Pssh, Mr. Stark, that’s ridiculous. I’m not scared of sleeping. I just don’t want to cause I’m not tired. But I love sleeping. Sleeping is refreshing, sleeping is great, sleeping is an absolute -“
“Nightmare.” Tony finished for him.
“No.” Peter paused, “No, that’s not what I was going to say.”
“But you are afraid of having nightmares, yeah?”
“I don’t have nightmares.” Peter said firmly.
“Of course not. You just prefer to wake up screaming, drenched in your own sweat.”
“Exactly, I prefer to - I - wait - I can’t think at three in the morning, Mr. Stark. Please take it easy on me.”
“Alright, come on, spiderling. Talk to me. Tell me what’s been bothering you. We both know you are extremely exhausted. You almost fell asleep while eating your s’more.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Peter whined. Like literally whined. He really was exhausted if he was resorting to this childish behavior.
“Now you just sound like a three-year old.”
“Hey! That was so rude. I’m at least half that.”
“Wow, your brain is really sleep deprived, kid. You just claimed you’re one and a half.”
“Mr. Stark please... fine I’ll admit it, I’m afraid to close my eyes, okay? Happy now?”
“Thrilled. My heart is warmed by your honesty. But you still haven’t told me why.”
Peter huffed, his face close to Tony’s chest. He was refusing to make eye contact and was basically talking to Tony’s arch reactor.
“Because whenever I do, I remember his face.” He whispered.
“Who’s face?”
Peter gulped and grabbed at Tony’s shirt. “The guy that stabbed me. I know it wasn’t a big deal, and I know I stopped him and everything, but for a few minutes I thought... I really thought he might kill me, Mr. Stark. I thought he was going to stab my neck, not my shoulder.”
“That dude is locked away in a maximum security prison, and that’s all thanks to you, kid. You got an extremely dangerous criminal behind bars, you should be proud of yourself.”
“Yeah I know, and I am, but every time I try to sleep I’m back in the Alley with him pinning me to the concrete and holding a knife over my neck. I can’t get him out of my head. It’s stupid too. I’ve been in dangerous situations before, I don’t know why this one is messing with me so much.”
“You went through a traumatic experience. Being held at knife-point is not something to be taken lightly.”
Peter said nothing, withering under the covers. “I’m scared,” he admitted quietly, as if he, himself, did not want to hear the admission.
Tony patted his back and Peter snuggled closer to his chest, resting his head on his stomach as if Tony were a human pillow.
“He can’t hurt you anymore.” Tony reminded him gently.
“But he is hurting me! Cause he won’t get out of my head!” Peter’s was dangerously wobbling at the end of his sentence.
“I know how that feels, Pete. Better than anyone. After the attack on New York, I had Thanos in my head for four years. Can you imagine? Four years. Except, I didn’t know it was Thanos. I just had this overwhelming fear that someone was going to wipe out the world. So I tinkered as I always do, and I tried to build a suit of armor around the world, and I pushed away the people closest to me...living in fear... it wasn’t really living. You have to try to let it go. That’s all you can do. It’s just like anger. Sometimes you have to let it go or it will destroy you.”
“I want to, Mr. Stark,” Peter sniffed, “but I don’t know how.”
“Try to go to sleep and think of something good. I know it’s a lame piece of advice, and it’s incredibly difficult when you have something horrible on your mind. But I’m going to be right here to help keep you from slipping into those horrible thoughts.”
“How?” Peter wiped his eyes.
“You and I are going to talk about the good things you’re picturing.”
“Really? You would really do that for me?”
“Pete, I will sit and talk with you all night, if that’s what you need.”
A soft smile graced his lips while Peter scooted closer to him so that their sleeping bags were touching and he could wrap his arms around Tony’s middle. He had the fluffiest, softest, most comfortable pillow in the world at his disposal and yet he chose to use Tony as his human pillow. Crazy kid.
Peter whimpered again as it was quiet for too long and his mind had too much time to think.
“Shh, close your eyes.” Tony whispered, carding his hand through Peter’s hair. Wow, it was really soft. “Think of a good memory.”
Peter’s heavy eyelids closed and he sighed contently. “So I guess one of my best memories was a Thanksgiving dinner I had with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. I was helping them cook for the first time and we were messing around in the kitchen, throwing mashed potatoes at each other like they were snowballs.”
“Mashed potatoes as snowballs? Interesting idea. Pepper and I might have to try it. Was May involved in this snowball fight?”
Peter giggled, already sounding close to sleep. “Not at first -“ he paused to yawn. “- but she joined in after we hit her in the face with some whipped cream.”
“I bet she clobbered you.”
“Mhmm.” Peter hummed. “She really mmmhmhm.” Tony couldn’t make out what he was trying to say, it was all blurred incoherent babbling. But Tony gave it a try anyways to keep the kid thinking about good thoughts.
“Oh, I see. That sounds like fun. Did you throw any other food? Cranberries? Sweet Potatoes? Green beans?”
Peter once again let out a string of incoherent nonsense while clinging to Tony’s t-shirt even tighter than before. A few minutes later and Tony’s ears were met with soft snores. When he was certain Peter was sleeping, Tony rubbed his back a few times, murmuring the phrase:
“I’m so proud of you, kid. So proud of you.”