He felt the dust clog his lungs, felt each particle as it enveloped him so completely all he could think was I failed him. I failed him.
Peter Parker, decked out in all things Spiderman, felt his pulse racing beneath the flimsy suit, felt the darkness encroaching upon his very self until he felt so very small; just a lone arachnid about to be demolished, squished under a very big boot.
"Please," he whispered, "please."
Hot tears coursed down his dirty cheeks, plowing twin trails of clean, unmarred skin amidst the dirt. "Please."
A loud groan shattered the relative silence and Peter felt the distinct shift of rubble as the building began to shift ever so lower. The slab of concrete above him sank further, stopping mere inches before it reached Peter's heaving chest. His back was against the ground, or what he supposed was the ground, and his unmasked face stared up at the building's remains that were about to crush him.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter said, for the first time his voice at full volume, echoing around the small enclosure that had so far kept Peter alive.
And then it all came tumbling down.
With a gasp Peter jackknifed off the bed, his breathing loud and erratic to his own ears, pulse pounding in his head, his body felt too hot, too hot. He struggled with the blankets tangled around his body, felt the ceiling descending towards him, felt the air get heavier and heavier until he couldn't breathe.
"Peter!"
Tony Stark watched his kid full body flinch away from him, watched with wide eyes as those big brown doe eyes skittered across the room to settle on the billionaire. The sheer terror he saw there nearly broke his heart. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, "It's okay, Peter, it's just me, just good ol' Tony, okay?"
The kid's breathing was fast and heavy, his pupils blown wide. Tony knew the signs of a panic attack when he saw one and he could only thank god FRIDAY had woken him when Peter had shown the first signs of distress.
"Hey," Tony said softly, recapturing those teary eyes with his own, pouring every ounce of understanding and love into his gaze as he could. "You're safe, Peter, you're safe. I'm here and nothing's going to get you while I'm here, right?"
A hiccupping sob broke free from Peter's stuttering breaths and Tony couldn't take it anymore. He crossed the room in five quick strides and gathered the quivering boy up in his arms. "It's alright, kiddo, I've got you." He repeated the words over and over, hoping at least his voice would get through to his kid. He gripped Peter tighter when the kid's knees buckled, gently sinking to the floor and bringing Peter down into his lap, cradling him tightly to his chest.
"Please," Peter whispered, his voice muffled by Tony's shirt, one fist crumpling a fistful of the soft material, "Please, please, please."
"Hey, hey," Tony demanded, drawing slightly away from Peter's face, cupping the kid's cheek in a palm and turning his head up. "Breathe like me, kiddo, match your breaths to mine." He shifted the shaking form in his lap, drew Peter's back firmly against his chest and took steady, measured breaths.
He could feel Peter trying to slow his breathing, felt the quivering inhales and exhales as the shudders slowed and Peter slowly relaxed back into Tony's chest.
"Good job, Pete," Tony praised, dropping his chin on his kid's soft curls. "Just like that."
"Dad," Peter rasped, turning in Tony's embrace and wrapping his thin arms firmly around his father's waist, burrowing close to the man's warm chest, feeling safe for the first time in what felt like ages.
"I've got you," Tony said again.
They stayed quiet for a few minutes, before Tony spoke again, "What was that Peter?"
Peter tensed in his arms but made no move to extract himself from his father's embrace.
"Nightmare?" Tony asked, getting a vague nod in response.
Knowing if he pushed he'd cause the kid to clam up and he'd never get anything out of him, Tony nudged his son and they stood together, Tony keeping one arm slung over Peter's shoulders, keeping him tight against his side.
"Perfect night for a sleepover then," Tony said, eliciting a small smile from the teenager. They crossed the hallway to Tony's own room and the billionaire shifted his sheets and allowed Peter to crawl into bed before he slid in beside him, instructing FRIDAY to turn off the lights before he felt the telltale shifting of the mattress and his son's warmth pressed against his side with an audibly relieved exhale.
Tony lifted his arm and wrapped it around Peter's shoulders, drawing his son's head to rest on his chest. "Go to sleep, Peter."
"Night Dad," Peter mumbled, sleep once more dragging him under, though he let it this time, knowing Tony would be there to make sure he didn't suffocate.
"Night Pete," Tony replied.
He didn't sleep a wink that night, his entire focus on the young superhero in his arms. He may be a fearless, crime-fighting superhero to most, but to Tony he was just a kid in need of comfort and his own hero to fight off the monsters that plagued his dreams.