Tony didn't expect Peter Parker to still be in the lab at three in the morning, but there he was, hunched over a bunch of beakers and test tubes and notebooks. Goggles still pressed tight against his face, hands still working at a million miles an hour, lips pressed together in concentration…if it hadn't been three in the morning, Tony almost would have been proud for the kid for being so dedicated.
Almost.
"A bit late, isn't it?"
Peter startled, one of his hands almost scattering away a beaker. Luckily, he caught it before it could fly over the table completely, but that didn't keep Tony from noticing that Peter's hands were shaking just the slightest.
How long had Peter exactly been here?
"Mr. Stark!" Peter pushed the goggles up to his forehead. "Sorry, sir—just getting some work done." He held up one of the beakers. "I think I'm improving the formula for the webbing. I've almost got it, maybe just another hour…" His voice drifted as Tony quickly strode forward and snatched the glass from Peter's hand. "Hey!"
"Enough for now," Tony said, holding the beaker above his head as Peter tried to grab it back. Tony knew Peter could probably easily jump ahead and just grab the beaker away, but Tony was banking on Peter's obvious fatigue to keep him from doing that. And Peter did look exhausted. Dark half-moons bagged down Peter's eyes, and his curly hair looked more disheveled than usual. "Do you know what time it is?"
Peter looked up at the ceiling, as though that would give him the answer. "I dunno, ten?"
"Try three. AM," Tony replied flatly.
"Oh." Peter paused, dropping his head back down. "Okay. Can I have my beaker back, Mr. Stark?"
"Don't count on it," Tony replied. "You need to get some sleep. It's late."
"Or early," Peter countered.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Not the point."
Peter waved a hand. "I'll be fine. I've patrolled later—earlier—than this before."
"And now you're definitely getting sleep today," Tony said, mentally filing away the fact that this kid apparently never slept. "C'mon, don't make me drag you out of here." He moved towards Peter's notebooks to pick them up, too, but the kid was already scrambling towards the lab bench.
"Why are you up?" Peter asked, pushing his notebooks out of Tony's reach.
"Because I'm an adult and don't have a bedtime," Tony said over Peter's head.
"Yeah, well," Peter started to say, but stopped short, clearly trying to think of something to say. Throwing his hands up in the air, he decided with, "I'm making stuff! Spider-Man doesn't sleep when he's making stuff!"
"But Peter Parker does," Tony replied, moving past Peter to gather the notebooks. "Come on. Otherwise your aunt's gonna ask me why the hell you keep coming back from the weekend looking like a raccoon."
"I don't look like a raccoon," Peter grumbled.
"Could've fooled me," Tony replied. He turned to Peter, one hand still holding the beaker over his head while the other carried a stack of spiral-bound notebooks. "Now let's get going before you end up going to bed at four in the morning."
To Tony's pleasant surprise, Peter didn't argue. Instead, Peter only yanked off his goggles, threw them on the lab bench, and followed Tony with a somewhat sullen slouch. Tony couldn't help but smirk to himself as he led the way out of the lab, only looking over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure the kid hadn't decided to make a run back to the lab. But Peter must have been more tired than he was letting on, because he followed Tony and didn't make another protest until they were walking towards Peter's quarters.
"You'll figure out the webbing later," Tony said, setting the notebooks on Peter's desk. He still held the beaker away—he figured putting the thing back in the lab would be a better idea than leaving it alone to Peter. "But you need your sleep. Aren't teenagers supposed to sleep all the time, anyways?"
"Not all the time," Peter replied, rubbing a fist over his eyes. "I've got homework, too, and quizzes to study for—"
"Which you'll do in the morning." As Peter opened his mouth, Tony quickly corrected, "Or afternoon. Next time you wake up." He nodded towards Peter's bed. "In you go."
Peter dropped down to the bed, but his eyes remained intent on Tony. "Why are you awake, Mr. Stark?" he asked. His eyes, a deep brown that somehow wasn't dark enough to ever be described as black, stared straight up at Tony. "And how'd you know I was in the lab, anyways?"
Tony held the beaker up in front of him, examining the glass a little more intently than was probably necessary. "I checked in on your room on my way to get some water. Told FRIDAY to run some scans for where you went," he said. What he didn't say was how Tony's heart had nearly stopped when he found Peter's bed untouched. Or how he had almost shouted at FRIDAY to scan for Peter within a fifty-mile radius. Or how he had felt a mixture of both relief and anger at how FRIDAY reported Peter was literally a few meters below Tony's feet.
"You checked in on me?" Peter asked, blinking in obvious surprise.
Tony turned his eyes to the ceiling. "Yeah, maybe," he replied, his voice coming out rougher than he meant to. "Didn't want to worry that you were off running on your own or something stupid like that." He looked back down at Peter, whose lips were curving into a small, pleased smile. Tony's eyes darted quickly back to the ceiling.
"Anyways," he said, rotating the beaker this way and that, "get some sleep, kid. No raccoon eyes tomorrow morning, got it?"
Peter bobbed his head up and down. "Yes, sir," he replied. "Good night, Mr. Stark."
Tony risked looking back down at Peter. The kid was still smiling, looking up at Tony with the widest eyes he had ever seen.
"Good night, kid," Tony said finally and managed to nudge Peter back. "See you in the morning."
—
"Mr. Stark?"
Everything hurt. A lot. More than Tony had ever experienced, and that was saying something, considering all the times Pepper had to patch him up.
"Peter, maybe you should—"
"I thought I heard him say something."
Peter? Tony's head hurt just trying to piece together that name. Why was Peter—
And then everything came rushing back. Thanos' glove. Extreme pain. A burning sensation rushing up Tony's arm, his side, his face. Peter crying in front of him. Pepper giving him a watery smile. The final words ("you can rest now"). Darkness.
"Peter." The other voice—not Peter—was gentle. "You're tired. You should get some sleep."
"I'm fine, I swear," Peter said, and Tony wanted to open his eyes. He knew that voice. He knew that tone Peter was taking. Ultra-defensive, stupid stubborn, probably lying his brains out. "I wasn't hearing things."
"I wasn't saying that," came the other voice. Soft. Gentle. Familiar. Pepper. Now Tony definitely wanted to open his eyes. "But you need your rest. Tony would want you to."
"I'm fine," Peter repeated. "I'll sleep later."
Tony almost groaned. "Like hell you will," he mumbled.
The room went silent—so silent that Tony wondered for a second if maybe he had just gone crazy and had been dreaming up Peter and Pepper's voices until suddenly, both voices cried, "Tony?"
Tony pried his eyes open, cringing at the sudden bright lights that flooded his vision. He blinked twice, trying to get the yellow dots out of his eyesight before Peter and Pepper's forms took shape before him. Pepper, red hair tied back and eyes rimmed with tears, sat at Tony's right, while Peter—God—sat at Tony's left.
The kid was a mess. Eyes bloodshot, face three shades paler than usual, shoulders shaking, the whole nine yards.
Oh, kid.
"You look worse than I do," Tony only said, which, to his credit, earned a short laugh from both Pepper and Peter. But the laughs were short-lived and teary, and then Pepper and Peter were both wrapping their arms around Tony like he had just come back to life. (Which, he supposed he just had, but that was beside the point.)
"Careful," Tony said around their arms. "Not back to one-hundred percent yet. Yet," he emphasized hastily as Peter flinched. "Calm down." As Peter withdrew, Tony continued, "Seriously, though. You're a mess. Have I mentioned that yet?"
Peter only rubbed his eyes. "I couldn't—I wanted to make sure you were—" Tears streaked down his cheeks. "I thought you might have been…" Tony's heart clenched as Peter pushed his face into his hands.
Oh, kid.
Tony turned to Pepper, at a loss for words, but she, too, had tears streaming down her cheeks. She gave Tony a watery smile, but he knew there were going to be words between them later.
Later—but right now…Pepper nodded at Peter.
"Peter," Tony said quietly. "I'm here. We're going to be fine. Kid?"
Peter lifted his head up, eyes still rimmed red.
"We're going to be fine," Tony repeated. If he had the energy or the strength to, he would have reached over. But his arms weren't working—not yet, anyways. "Trust me. We're going to be fine."
"We thought you might be dead," Peter whispered. "We—I thought—"
"But I'm not. See?" Tony tried for a smile. "Alive." He tilted his head to the side. "So you think you can get some sleep now?"
Peter blinked. "You expect me to sleep after this?"
"I expect you to try," Tony replied. "Seriously. You look terrible."
"But—" Peter looked at Pepper, then back at Tony, then back at Pepper, then back at Tony. "I don't…" Peter's voice was small. "I don't want to go."
Tony's heart tightened. "It's okay, kid," he said, and he wished again that he had the strength to reach over to Peter. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Peter's eyes latched on to Tony, as though trying to drink him in. And then, still in that small voice, he said, "You better."
Tony smiled. "Trust me," he replied. "I'm not going anywhere."
-fin-
A/N: I hadn't meant to bring Endgame into this, but then I decided to listen to my angst writing playlist, so here we are. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Also, two Peter Parker and Tony Stark fics in a row. I think this is a new one for me, but I just love these two so much. In case you guys couldn't tell, the first portion set place before Endgame, while the other one was obviously in the aftermath. I've said it before in my previous Irondad and Spiderson fic, but denial is fun. As always, comments are appreciated!