Tony couldn’t think of a single child that he’d ever dealt with, much less cared for. Even when he was a child Tony was put in advanced classes with adults. He’d never had any real friends his age, and he’d certainly never babysat or had any real interest in kids.
Of course, everything changed with Peter. Peter and his endless energy, constant smiling, incredible intellect, selfless nature, quick, snappy wit, big brown eyes, and adorable curls. The boy was the best thing to ever happen to Tony, and he was going to make damn sure that he didn’t screw it up. So, he tried his best to mentor the boy, showing his affection in all the ways Howard had failed to do with him.
And then, inevitably, Tony screwed up. He lost the teen on Titan. Peter, his Peter, disappeared. And it was all his fault.
Tony had searched for a way to get the boy back every single day he was gone, fighting for any leads, mourning when he didn’t find any. With the boy’s disappearance came guilt, regret, sadness. Memories of Peter replayed in his mind on a loop. Why hadn’t he spent more time with the boy? Why had he hesitated to get close to him? So much lost time. So much more he could’ve done.
After months of Peter’s absence, when Tony felt like he was seconds away from breaking, they finally found a way. It was a long, hard battle of wits, strategy, and strength, but the Avengers came out victorious. And just as quickly as he disappeared, Peter Parker returned. None of the Avengers finished the fight unscathed, but they all survived.
After Titan, Tony swore he would do better. He’d never let Peter go again, never waste another moment away from him. And most importantly, he wanted to be there for the boy.
He started by reading parenting books. Tony knew it was ridiculous. He wasn’t Peter’s Dad. However, the books did offer some insight on the teenager. Tony learned how to spot if Peter was hungry, thirsty, or needed to use the potty. It wasn’t very helpful since the boy was old enough to vocalize all of his needs, but it did teach Tony to grab books about teenagers rather than young children.
With all of his research, the man concluded that the absolute best way to bond with Peter was a pajama party. According to his newest read, pajama parties allowed a chance for children to relax and become accustomed to their surroundings whilst allowing them certain freedoms to express themselves. Letting Peter choose a movie would exponentially increase his enjoyment, and by actively participating Tony set himself as an equal, a friend who could be trusted. Various other benefits were claimed, and they all sounded logical to the genius. However, he didn’t factor in the fact that he was a genius in engineering, not parenting.
He brought the idea up to Peter at one of their lab sessions. The boy laughed and quickly agreed. Tony was pleased.
So, on the second Friday of March, when Peter showed up at the Avenger’s tower in a simplistic hoodie and jeans, Tony couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed.
Seeing a crestfallen Tony dressed in New York pride pajamas while holding a bowl of popcorn must’ve alarmed Peter, because he immediately let out a surprised gasp.
“Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark I didn’t think you were serious!” Peter exclaimed as he gave the man a once over.
“I know I’m a sarcastic asshole most of the time, but yes, I did really mean it,” Tony said, biting back a frown. Peter, however, broke into an ear splitting grin.
“This is AWESOME! I wish I’d know. you were serious! I’ve always wanted to have my own PJ party!” Peter babbled, shifting his feet in excitement. Tony perked up.
“Really?”
“Yeah! Hold on, I think I have some PJ’s in my dresser,” Peter chattered, bounding down the hallway to his room in the tower. Tony chuckled. It certainly wasn’t how he expected the night to start, but it was perfect.
Five minutes later, Peter came flying back into the foyer, sliding across the floor with the force of his run. Tony couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him.
“I don’t even want to know how old those pajamas are, nor why you chose them.”
“What, did you expect me to wear the hello kitty pants you bought me?” Peter retorted, crossing his arms over his torso.
“No, but at least those fit you,” Tony smirked, eyeing the boy’s exposed calves.
“They fit!” he defended, furrowing his eyebrows together.
“Yeah, maybe when you were ten,” Tony chuckled, watching as Peter pulled at the hem of his long-sleeved R2D2 top.
“Well it was either this or Avenger’s pajamas, but I figured that’d be a little to cliche,” Peter blushed, looking at his feet. Or maybe he was looking at the eight inches of exposed leg the pants didn’t cover, there was no way for Tony to be sure.
The man smiled at him.
“You look perfect, exactly how everyone imagined I’m sure,” Tony assured him. Peter gave a small smile and his heart instantly melted.
The boy looked absolutely adorable standing with his hand on his dangling arm, slightly flushed cheeks, too-short pants, messy curls, and-
“ARE THOSE CHEWBACCA SLIPPERS!” someone yelled from behind Tony. Sure enough, it was Clint. Peter grinned at him.
“Yeah! Aunt May got them for me for Christmas!” Peter chattered excitedly. Tony couldn’t help but laugh. Yup, that was his spider-baby.
As Clint barreled into the room to fangirl over Peter’s slippers, Tony couldn’t help but notice his purple Hawkeye pajamas, which were meant to be child sized. The result was a heavily muscled man with booty shorts and a slight crop top.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony mumbled. Peter looked up.
“See, Clint’s PJs are short,” Peter glared at him. Tony threw his hands up.
“Of course they are! They only make those in child sizes, and he wouldn’t miss any opportunity to show off his... merchandise,” Tony declared in exasperation. Clint grinned.
“Don’t listen to him, Peter. He’s just mad because I stole these from his closet. He’s actually my biggest fan.”
“You’re basically an over glorified Katniss Everdeen,” Tony bit back.
“Yeah, except Katniss Everdeen couldn’t shoot you without anyone ever knowing. Three words: SHIELD training mission. Try me,” Clint wiggled his eyebrows.
Peter laughed.
“FRIDAY, make a reminder to restrict Clint from the kitchen,” Tony called out, looking the other man dead in the eyes.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Clint gasped, gaze steely.
Tony raised an eyebrow, “Try me.”
Clint laughed, ruffling Tony’s hair as he walked towards the couch, “I’ve missed you, man.”
“You too, Clint.”
The spy turned around halfway into the living room, “Don’t forget though, I am a trained assassin.”
“FRIDAY, lock my doors at night going forward,” Tony murmured. He could hear Clint laugh from the other room.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. Clint would never kill you. He’s secretly a softie. I can tell,” Peter said proudly. Tony chuckled, patting the boy on his head.
“I’ll be sure to let him know you think so. Now c’mon, we’ll meet the others in the TV room.” Tony guided Peter into the next room, where the giant TV and couch awaited, along with a cart containing popcorn, candy, and a freezer of ice cream.
“Woah! This is too much, Mr. Stark,” Peter shook his head, eyes wide.
“Please, kid. Call me Tony. You make me feel old.”
That’s because you are old,” Rhodey chimed, entering the room in his camo PJs.
Tony gasped, “Excuse me? Last time I checked, you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am, but as a best friend I also have to be honest. Is that a grey hair?” Rhodey grinned, pulling at the billionaire’s mussed bristles.
“Ex-best friend now,” Tony growled. The other man laughed.
“You wouldn’t be able to find your way to the grocery store without me.”
“FRIDAY where’s the nearest grocery store?” Tony asked, looking Rhodey dead in the eye.
“3.4 miles away. Would you like directions?” the AI replied sweetly.
Without breaking eye contact, Tony pointed at the ceiling.
“Think I’ve got that covered.”
“Replacing me with an AI, that’s cold Stark.”
“He once converted my voice into an AI for a week. And used it for the garbage disposal,” Clint offered, chomping on popcorn.
Tony smirked.
“Yeah, and then I decided the program was too incompetent,”
Clint stuck his tongue out at the man. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m Peter’s favorite Avenger, right, Pete?”
Peter gaped.
“I don’t really… I don’t really... Um, I just love you all. I spent so many summers at archery camps, tech conferences, and military boot camps trying to be like you guys. I never could shoot an arrow very well, Mr. Hawkeye, and I got kicked out of boot camp when I was ten. So I have a lot of appreciation,” Peter mumbled.
“I’m sure I could teach you,” Clint offered, “you’ve got the instincts for it.”
“And clearly you did something right, I’ve seen your abs,” Rhodey added with a grin.
“I just think you’re all really awesome, and Mr. St- Tony- does, too. I know it,” the boy murmured.
Tony beamed proudly.
“Thanks, kid. You’re pretty awesome, too.”
Peter just stared back at him, as if still processing everything with wide-eyed innocence. Tony smiled back encouragingly. Was this a moment?
Unfortunately, if it was a moment, it was broken as Clint burst into laughter.
“Oh- hahahaha- my gosh- hahahahahahaha! It looks even better than I expected,” Clint gasped for air between bouts of laughter.
Tony and Peter looked at each other in confusion before turning around to see Natasha in a fluffy pink unicorn onesie, glaring at Clint.
“Tasha lost a bet so I got to choose her PJs,” Clint sang with jubilation.
“Ohhhh,” Rhodey sighed in understanding, “and she chose your pajamas, right?”
“No.”
Natasha smirked, “That was all him.”
“Oh….” Rhodey trailed off, unable to take his eyes off Clint’s ridiculous outfit, “Well, does anyone want candy?”
“Raisinets!” Natasha shouted, flopping onto the corner of the couch. She draped her legs over Clint, who was grimacing.
“How do you eat those things? You don’t even like raisins!”
“They’re chocolate covered.”
“That makes absolutely zero difference.”
“You’re wrong. You’re so, so wrong.”
“Please- I’m always-“ Clint froze. He sniffed, moving his head closer to Natasha.
“You smell different,” he accused, leaning back in suspicion.
Natasha shook her head in amusement, “It’s called soap, Clint. You should try it sometime.”
“Are you sure you’re not experimenting with old poisons again? Please tell me you’re not experimenting. Please, God, no.”
“I only paralyzed you for six days, Clint. You really need to let that go.”
“Well if it was only six days,” Tony countered, rolling his eyes.
“She poisoned you?” Peter gasped, interrupting Natasha as she murmured something sounding suspiciously like “drama queen” under her breath.
“Obviously she didn’t do it right. He’s still here.” Tony pauses before shrugging, “Plus, he probably deserved it.”
“Who, Clint? Did someone steal his sunglasses again?” Bucky asked, entering the room in an old pair of Soviet starred pajamas.
“I still think that was you, Barnes,” Clint accused stiffly.
Bucky chuckled as he grabbed his popcorn, turning around when the rest of the room stayed silent.
“Oh, c’mon,” Bucky exclaimed as he noticed everyone’s stares, “It’ll freak Steve out. And besides, his pajamas are so over the top patriotic that we needed a little diversity.”
“That,” Tony conceded, “I do believe.”
Clint rolled his eyes, absentmindedly reaching his hand out to play with the furry leg of Natasha’s onesie as Rhodey tossed her the candy.
“This is so soft,” Clint frowned, “like way too soft. Tonyyyyy, I have a new uniform fabric for Tasha.”
The billionaire laughed.
“I’d like to see that. ‘Black Widow takes on trained killers in a onesie.’”
“She’d still kick their asses,” Peter nodded.
“I’d forgotten how much I like you, Peter,” Natasha grinned.
Feeling the need to change to topic before Natasha adopter the teenager as her assassin protege, Tony interrupter, “Right, well, we should probably claim our spots before the rest of the team gets here,” He nodded towards the couch, giving Peter a little nudge away from the red-haired superhero. He turned, giving it a once over.
“Do you have any blankets?”
“Sure, kid.”
Immediately after Tony left to grab assorted quilts and blankets, Steve and Sam entered, Wanda, Vision, and Bruce trailing behind.
As it turned out, Bucky was right. Captain America lived up to his name, clad in flag-patterned sweatpants and a spangly tank top.
“You look like you should be waving from a pole,” Clint commented with a snort.
Steve turned towards him, shrugging, “I was just going to wear sweatpants, but Nat insisted that wasn’t the point of a patriotic pajama party.”
“Patriotic?” Rhodey questioned, chuckling.
The red-haired assassin smirked at him.
“Nice one, Tasha,” Clint murmured.
Steve looked utterly confused, his mouth slightly parted as if shocked.
“Don’t worry, Cap. Considering we all expected more spandex, this is an improvement,” Tony teased, reentering the room with an armful of blankets. He tossed them to Peter, who immediately began to arrange them into a nest at the corner of the couch.
“Is this payback for asking how they made the leather for your suit so stretchy?” Steve asked innocently.
Tony burst into laughter.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounds,” Wanda giggled. She, herself, had opted for a comfortable pair of Christmas PJs her brother had given her a few years back.
Steve looked horrified.
“Oh no! N-no I didn’t- I didn’t mean it in any… you know!”
“I know you didn’t, Steve, you’re too innocent. And gullible apparently,” Natasha cackled.
“Yeah, I mean who throws a patriotic pajama party, Cap?” Clint agreed.
“I thought maybe it was a twenty-first century thing!”
Even Peter giggled at that. Steve continued blushing, turning to his best friend as if to seek solace. However, the sight of Bucky in Russian pajamas only seemed to distress him more.
“Bucky, what are you wearing? Bucky... you’re not... It’s America... it’s... You’re messing with me again!” Steve accused, gaping at his smirking friend. As the man chastised him, Peter looked to Sam in amusement.
“I like your pajamas, Mr. Falcon,” the boy complimented, staring with fascination at his blue, bald eagle patterned set.
“Apparently no one makes pajamas with falcons,” Sam said begrudgingly, “it was either this or flamingos.”
“Wrong choice,” Natasha smirked.
Sam glared, throwing popcorn which she easily dodged.
The kernels landed in Bucky’s hair, which elicited an unmanly “hrhggggg” from him.
“Ooooo,” Sam grinned, redirecting his fire towards Bucky, “now this is much more fun.”
“Hey!” the other man yelped, rolling off the couch to avoid the flying corn bullets.
“Kids, no fighting in the house!” Tony warned.
“Arghhh,” Bucky responded, charging Sam. The two went flying backwards into the other room, and the next few seconds were filled with discombobulated grunts and shouts.
“Ten bucks on Bucky,” Clint offered Natasha.
“I’ll take you on that,” Natasha agreed, “Sam has the pent up rage over an entire battle. No way he’ll let Bucky win again.”
“Yeah, but Bucky has the pent up rage of ruined hair.”
“That man is very protective of his hair.”
There was a pause as everyone listened to the muffled arguing sounds.
“Right, well I’m going to go check on them,” Steve announced, heading off into the other room.
Tony turned to Peter.
“Why don’t you pick a movie, kid. Take your time there are plenty of-“
“STAR WARS: A NEW HOPE!” Peter shouted, practically leaping out of his seat.
“I guess he didn’t need any time,” Bruce muttered.
“Ohmygoshmrstarkthankyouthankyouthank youihaventbeenabletowatchitinforeveranditssuchagoodmovie-“ Peter babbled, looking up to Tony with awe. The man just nodded along, not understanding a word the boy said.
“andthenitslikebamboomandeveryonekindasc reamsbecauseitsaplottwistandomgamispoilingitimgoingtostoptalkingnow?!” Peter finished, taking a huge gasp for air.
“That’s great, buddy. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Tony said, ruffling the boy’s curls and desperately hoping he’d said the right thing. By Peter’s bright eyed grin, he figured he had.
“FRIDAY, cue up Star Wars: A New Hope. ”
The title sequence popped onto the screen, poised and ready.
“The movie is up and paused,” FRIDAY responded pleasantly.
As they waited for Steve, Bucky, and Sam to return, Tony grabbed a bucket of popcorn, pausing to admire Peter’s position on the couch. Currently, at least five blankets were spread out, twisting around the teen like a thick cocoon. Every part of him was covered in blanket, and Tony wasn’t sure how the kid could possibly move. Only his face stuck out, mussed curls spilling out from underneath the faux blanket hoodie. True to his nature, Peter managed to literally web himself in blankets.
“Mr. Stark! Toss me a piece of popcorn!” Peter exclaimed, opening his mouth with expectation. Without hesitation, Tony tossed a piece high in the air. Peter leaned forward and slightly to the left to catch it in his mouth. The kernel landed perfectly in his mouth, but he hadn’t accounted for having no hands to balance.
“Woahhhh,” he shouted, rolling off the coach, tangled limbs flailing. Tony couldn’t help but laugh as he swooped Peter off the floor, placing the burrito-wrapped teen back in his spot.
Peter blushed, opening his mouth to apologize when a huge boom echoed through the tower. He clapped his hands over his ears, the sound amplified by his enhanced senses.
“Thor!” Tony whipped around, “I told you no thunder transportation in the tower...what in the world are you wearing?”
The God of Thunder stood in the middle of the living room, which Tony was very glad he’d surge proofed, baring an obscene amount of skin.
“Peter! Cover your eyes!” Tony demanded, flipping a portion of blanket over the kid’s head.
“Whattt,” Peter muffled, shaking off the blanket. “Ohhh,” he mumbled, blushing from head to toe.
“I don’t care how hot his abs are, cover up,” Tony hissed, standing in front of Peter as the the boy tried to crane his neck.
“Hello, Man of Iron! Hello Young Hybrid Spider! The message bearer informed me of a ‘pajama party’.”
“Yes, but where are your pajamas?” Tony asked in horror.
Thor frowned, “This is traditional Asgardian sleepwear!”
“Oh my god,” a disheveled Sam groaned as he re-entered the room with an equally stunned Bucky and Steve, all who were staring wide-eyed at the back view of the skimpy loincloth.
“Friends! Where is your sleepwear? You are clothed in a normal fashion,” Thor looked around in confusion.
“Really,” Natasha deadpanned, “you think this is how I normally dress? In fluffy pink onesies?”
Thor had no response.
“Just… just wrap yourself or something,” Tony shook his head, tossing a blanket to the god.
“You wish for me to use this dressing as a loincloth? Very well,” Thor shrugged, reaching for the end of the wrapped cloth.
“DEAR LORD NO,” Clint shouted.
“Like me, Mr. Thunder God. Just wrap the blanket around your body to keep you warm,” Peter instructed happily. Thor obliged, pulling the edges of the blanket over his chest as he sat next to the boy.
“Very well, Little Spider!” Thor exclaimed, rubbing his hands over the soft material. Peter grinned.
“Everyone settle down, it’s getting late and we’ve got to start the movie at some point before Peter’s bed time,” Tony insisted. Everyone shifted into positions, cramming into the couch.
“Mr. Stark, I’m not a child! I don’t have a bedtime.”
“You do here, “Little Spider”. Sleep is important to a growing boy. Now, FRIDAY play the movie.”
Peter groaned, but quickly quieted as the film started.
“You owe Nat ten dollars, by the way,” Steve whispered to Clint.
“No way!”
“Shhhh!” Peter hissed, surprising everyone into silence once more. He stretched, leaning into Tony’s side without a word. The man couldn’t suppress the smile that crept up on his face, shifting slightly so his arm was resting on the edge of the couch.
“S’ry Mr. Stark,” Peter murmured, “I’m cold and Thor is giving me, like, no room.”
Tony pulled his edge of the blanket onto Peter.
“Any time, Underoos.”
As the movie played out,Tony couldn’t help but think that everything was just perfect. He was sure that Peter was bonding with him, all the Avengers were absorbed by the movie, and Peter was happy, genuinely happy. He could tell by the constant, unintentional smile on the kid’s face.
However, as per usual, fate decided to rob Tony of his perfect moment.
“You can’t win, Darth. If you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine,” the all-knowing voice of Obi-Wan echoed.
Tony felt Peter shift slightly.
“You should not have come back,” Vader responded, Tony watching with wide eyes. Peter made a soft noise.
“Oh, shit!” Bucky howled as a flurry of lightsaber battle ensued. Steve elbowed him, hissing a reminder that children were present.
Tony, on the other hand, was completely absorbed, eyes following the movie he’d never seen before. Beside him, Peter drew his legs up to his chin, moving so he wasn’t touching Mr. Stark.
On the screen, Obi-Wan was struck, disappearing into the abyss as all his companions watched.
“Where’d he go?” Bucky asked, elbowing Steve. The other man threw his hands up.
“Why would I know!?”
Peter bit his lip, suppressing all but a soft whimper from escaping him. The scene was very, very familiar to him. It had been months, but Peter knew he’d never forget it. After all, he’d practically lived the scene in front of him.
The teen closer his eyes, hoping if he didn’t watch Obi-Wan disappear, he wouldn’t see himself turn to dust. It was a mistake, because behind his eyelids all he saw was dust, dust, dust, death, death, death. His eyes flew back open as his mind chanted:
I don’t feel so good, I don’t feel so good, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, gone, gone, gone, gone...
He held his breath, hoping it would send him back to reality, but the rest of his body panicked from the lack of oxygen. His lungs were suddenly screaming. The boy’s hybrid genetics took this as a sign of physical danger and immediately dialed up all his senses. The lights seemed to brighten a thousand fold, searing his eyes as he became too aware of every sound, every breath, every movement, every scream of the TV. Waves of nauseatingly sweet scents wafted into his nose, counteracted by disgustingly salty popcorn. He could practically taste the combo. And of course there was that sixth sense that just screamed, “DANGER, DANGER, YOU’RE GOING TO DIE, YOU’RE FRIENDS ARE GOING TO DIE, EVERYONE IS GOING TO DIE, DIE, DIE.”Of course, sensory overload just made everything worse.
Peter choked back another noise of panic as it became harder and harder to breathe. His throat felt as if it was thickening, stopping him from receiving air altogether. His mind screamed at him to just count to ten, to just breathe, but it was as if the ability had disappeared. He gasped, desperately drinking in air as his heart rate accelerated in panic. He couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him.
Gone, gone, gone, dead, dead, dead.
“You ok, bud?” Tony asked without taking his eyes off the screen. When Peter didn’t respond, the man glanced over.
Dust, dust, dust, dark, dark, dark.
Peter stopped breathing completely.
“Peter?” Tony called more urgently, turning so he could view the boy fully. At this point, the entire team was looking over in concern.
BREATHE, BREATHE, BREATHE, DEATH, DEATH, DEATH.
Peter arched up, gasping for air. He clawed at his chest, he shifted around, he panted, nothing seemed to pull him out of it.
He was dying. He was sure of it. He was dying again. Dying, dying, dying. Tears blurred his vision, and he felt a sob building in his chest.
“Peter!” Tony yelled, panic creeping up on him. Instead of freezing, he launched into action, leaping out of his seat to kneel in front of the teen. “FRIDAY, run diagnostics.”
“Tony, he needs to breathe.” Captain America advised.
“Yeah, I’m working on that.” Tony gritted his teeth.
“Boss, it appears Peter is having a severe anxiety attack.”
“I’d figured that part out, FRIDAY! What can I do?”
“Try to calm him,” the AI suggested, “keep his breathing steady.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do!?”
Peter sobbed, “I’m sor-sorry! I’m s-so, so, so sorry! No, no, no!”
Tony’s heart sunk. His baby, his poor spider baby was hurting. And he hadn’t seen it.
“It’s ok, buddy. You’re safe. Everyone is safe. You’re going to be ok, but I need you to try to breathe, ok?” Tony cooed, trying to keep his own voice from breaking.
Sobs continued to rack the boy’s body, barely allowing him a breath between as his mind continued chanting death and destruction. He looked around the room. The entire team was staring at him with care and concern. Peter moaned, trying to contain his snot-nosed sobs.
“Mr.- Mr.- ah- Stark! I don’t- I don’t wanna,” Peter choked, his breathing becoming more rapid as he glanced at everyone staring.
“Everybody out. NOW!” Tony demanded, instantly understanding the boy’s embarrassment. For once, the Avengers listened.
“Look, Peter. It’s just me and you. You are completely safe. I’m here. I’m here, always.”
Peter slid off the couch, curling into a ball on the ground as he panted. Tony felt helpless. What had triggered this? What had he not seen?
“I don’t wanna go- I don’t wanna go!” the teen shouted, words muffled as his face pressed to the floor. Tony’s heart nearly skipped a beat. The movie. Obi-Wan’s death. He’d disappeared, just like Peter had months ago.
“Peter, baby, you’re here now. And you’re not leaving. You’re never leaving again, ok? You’re safe. You’re safe,” Tony repeated the words over and over.
Peter’s mind, however, barely processed what the man was saying. Everything was too loud, everything hurt. He couldn’t breathe.
GONE, GONE, GONE.
Something curdled his stomach at the words. His entire body was tingly and sore, just like before he’d been dusted. Maybe he was being dusted. A sob burst out at the thought.
Peter began clawing at his arms, chest, stomach, legs, anything that felt real. He needed to know he was still there. After all, he was beginning to feel like dust.
“Peter. Peter, you’re hurting yourself.”
He didn’t respond.
“Peter, stop.”
He felt hands cover his own, but in blind panic knocked them away.
“I’m here, Peter. You have to stop hurting yourself. It’s all going to be alright, ok?”
Peter felt arms wrap around him from behind. He struggled, screaming as they pulled his own arms to his side.
“NO!” Peter screamed, trying to shake them off.
Tony held tight, desperately pulling the boy to his chest, legs straddling him on either side. He held his arms down, smothering his personal space
It was the worst thing he’d ever had to do, seeing how terrified Peter was, holding him back, and knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to help him
“Breathe, Underoos, breathe. With me: 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” Tony repeated on a loop.
Peter continued sobbing, but the rhythm of Tony’s breathing and the hum of his words slowed him slightly.
Tony smiled, “That’s right, Peter. Just breathe. You’re ok now. We don’t have to talk about it, but I need you to know you’re safe. You’re here and you’re safe.”
Peter grabbed the man’s arms, holding them tightly. It hurt Tony like hell, especially with the teen’s super strength, but he didn’t care. He’d give anything for Peter to feel better.
As the boy struggled to breath, Tony began tapping out a rhythm on the top of his hand. Steady, each tap representative of a heartbeat. Peter seemed to respond, attempting to match his breaths with the beat.
Minutes passed as he clung to Tony, feeling each tap. Slowly, Peter’s mind silenced, his heart beat slowed, and the sobs turned into sniffles. Tony kept tapping.
“That’s better, Petey. I’m so proud of you,” Tony encouraged as the teen heaved out a long breath.
“I can’t- I don’t think I can do this,” Peter sniffled, “I can’t even watch my favorite movie anymore.”
“Hey, Pete,” Tony tilted the boy’s head towards him, “you want to know something?”
Peter nodded, eyes red and swollen from crying.
“I used to get panic attacks a lot after New York. In fact, I used to not even be able to say the word ‘New York’ without shutting down. Made it really hard to live here.”
“But you can now?” Peter asked.
“Yes. And you want to know my secret?”
Another nod.
“There was this little boy I met a few years back, Harley. He was brave and smart, just like you. He taught me that I can’t solve all my problems alone. So I let other people help me, and I also worked towards helping myself. You know, like sleeping, eating, and spending time with people I love. It never really goes away, but everyday there’s a little bit less anxiety, a little more time between the last trigger, and eventually, it’s a little bit better.”
Peter sighed.
“But you’re Tony Stark! I’m… I’m just Peter Parker. Of course you overcame it. I don’t know if- no matter how hard I try it doesn’t stop. I don’t think it ever will,” he bit his lip.
“Hey,” Tony smiled, putting a hand on his cheek, “it may seem that way now, but I promise you, it’s going to get better. Maybe not right away, but slowly you’ll see progress. And eventually you’ll be even better than me. Wanna know how I know that?”
Peter nodded.
“Because I managed it. And you’re a thousand times stronger than me,” Tony smiled at the teen, who looked at him wide-eyed.
“But… but I’m just Peter Parker,” the boy muttered, echoing his earlier statement.
“ ‘Just Peter Parker’ is the kindest, sweetest, smartest, strongest person I know. If there’s anyone who can do it, Pete, it’s you,” Tony promised, feeling his eyes well up with pride at the truth of the statement. The boy blushed, beginning to tap a beat of his own on Tony’s hand at the sight of tears. The other man looked up at Peter, smiling.
The two just sat like that, Peter leaning into the rhythmic breathing of Tony’s chest, tapping, and Tony allowing his hand to comb through Peter’s hair. No words, just silent strength.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter finally spoke, although hesitantly.
“Yeah, kid?”
“I’m sorry for ruining your pajama party.”
Tony laughed, “Are you kidding? I just wanted to spend time with you. You know, bonding and all that responsible mentor stuff. Sitting here with you has been far better than any party. And the hand tapping is growing on me, after all.”
Peter flushed. “All this was for me?”
“Did you think it was for the Avengers?”
“I don’t know! I thought maybe you all did regular sleepovers or something! Like ice cream socials. Or maybe you just wanted to show off your pajamas!”
“Ahhh, yes. The world's greatest heroes bond over mint chocolate chip ice cream and fudge.”
For the first time, Peter laughed. Tony couldn’t help but grin.
“Alright, kid. What do you say we get you some rest?”
Peter pursed his lips, “Actually, Mr. Stark, what if we finished the movie?”
By the slight quiver in his lip,Tony could tell the boy was trying to be brave.
“You know, Pete, you don’t have to try and overcome everything at once. There are things to do that won’t hurt so much. And after a little while we can revisit the things that do.”
“But I don’t want to be triggered by Star Wars, I want to be able to watch movies,” Peter trembled, biting his lip.
“I know, but for now there are thousands of movies to watch. Thousands of things you can do until you feel more comfortable,” Tony assured him.
A moment passed as Peter processed this.
“Can we- can we watch something else, then?”
“Of course, name it.”
“Umm, what about…oh! Have you ever seen Hannah Montana?”.
“Never heard of it.”
Peter gasped.
“MR.STARKWEARESOWATCHINGIT!”
“Alright, FRIDAY, you heard the kid.”
The two moved onto the couch, Peter lying across Tony’s lap as he stroked the boy’s hair.
Sure, watching a Disney singer play across the screen after Peter had a panic attack wasn’t exactly how Tony had expected the night to go, but he couldn’t help but think it was perfect.
Of course, that wasn’t the end of the night. After Clint recognized the Hannah Montana theme song, he dragged the rest of the Avengers back in to watch it. Tony even made everyone mint chocolate chip ice cream with hot fudge.
And that was how, after a rough few months, the Avengers initiated monthly pajama parties, and Peter and Tony started their own hand tapping communication system.