A/N: Marvel stories galore!

Warning: this chapter contains PTSD.

Chapter 1

It had been many nights since Tony Stark got a full eight hours of sleep. There had been a nice little period between those—events—that no one spoke about and the recent Infinity War. Tony did his best to forget the whole debacle, but with a seventeen-year-old kid living in the Avengers Compound who was suffering from severe PTSD, it wasn't exactly easy to forget.

Every single night, Peter woke up after having terrible nightmares. Most often he could barely even remember where he was. But it was understandable: Peter felt his body tear apart piece by piece and float away in the wind, desperately begging for it to stop—

No, Tony thought. Don't think about it.

"Sir," the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced. Beside him, Tony felt Pepper stir slightly, but luckily she was used to it. They all were used to it. "It appears that Peter has woken up again."

Tony swung his legs off the bed and silently padded from the room.

"Fri, is Peter in his room?"

"Yes, sir."

Tony made his way down the hall. He knocked on the door to announce his presence. He knew that Peter could be violent when startled, and after all that had happened, he couldn't blame him.

Peter was curled in a tight ball, drenched in cold sweat, wrapped in at least three blankets, shivering from head to toe, a wild look in his eyes.

Tony approached quietly, unsure of how to comfort Peter. He'd done this every night for the past three weeks, but that still didn't mean he was good at it.

He knelt beside Peter's bed and awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Pete, are you okay?" Tony asked softly.

For a moment, Peter didn't answer. He stared at Tony for a second, before seeming to realize that Tony had asked him a question. "Oh, oh, y-yeah, I'm f-fine, M-mr. Stark. You d-didn't need t-to come o-over here… it's n-not that b-bad…"

"I don't believe it for a second," Tony replied firmly.

"I-I'm okay, Mr. Stark, y-you c-can go back t-to sleep…"

"C'mon, kid, I know you're not alright," Tony said gently.

"I'm f-fine, Mr. Stark, really."

Tony gave Peter's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You don't need to be so brave, Peter. You can ask for help."

Peter shuffled away from Tony's grip. "You never ask f-for help…"

Tony shook his head. Teenagers never understood. "Kid, I've been through exactly what you're going through right now. And I want to make sure you don't resort to the same coping mechanisms I did."

Peter looked at him skeptically.

"Why don't you just try to get some more sleep?" Tony suggested lightly.

For a moment, Peter looked like he might disagree, but Tony could tell that the overwhelming need to sleep was taking its toll. "Okay…"

"Alright," Tony said quietly. "Good night, Pete."

Tony rose from the bed and exited the room. He was about head back to his bed when…

What if Peter has another panic attack tonight? What if he needs me? What if he wakes up and can't remember where he is?

Tony tried to calm the flow of thoughts. He came the conclusion that he should wait outside and see if Peter needed him for the rest of the night.