It was well past midnight when Tony made his way back to the tower. His phone buzzed in his pocket when he got out of the car in the garage. Pulling it out, he saw it was a message from Natasha. Everything was taken care of and she was on her way back. It felt like he could breathe again for the first time in hours. The stress of the day had taken its toll on him. He was exhausted, and now that Jack was taken care of, he was ready to collapse. Dropping his phone back in his pocket, he made his way to the elevator. After a quick word with Friday, he was on his way to the floor he shared with Pepper, and now, Peter.

Yawning, he walked out of the elevator and onto their floor. It was large and open, not much different than the communal floor in that there was a central sitting area towards the middle of the space. His eyes traveled over the room, stopping when he saw Pepper on one of the couches, Peter curled up beside her, head resting on her leg. She was carding her fingers through his hair, looking down at him with a gentle smile.

He crossed the room, taking in the scene, not able to contain the small smile from tugging at his lips. She looked perfectly in her element with him—like mothering him was something she'd always done.

She looked up from Peter's face when Tony sat on the couch across from her. "Should I ask?"

He clasped his hands together in his lap, shrugging. "Depends if you want the truth."

She sighed, nodding her head, brushing a stray hair from Peter's forehead. "Fair enough."

The echoes of the attack were still present on Peter's face, though the swelling was nearly gone. It still made Tony grimace to see. Watching him sleep, he looked even younger, the lines of worry he was used to seeing were smoothed away. It made his heart ache for everything he'd gone through. "He looks peaceful."

Pepper glanced over at him, hair falling from behind her ear. "He does, doesn't he?"

xXx

The smell of food cooking tickled Peter's nose and he scrunched his face, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He turned, trying to bury his face in his pillow, not ready to face the day. The light coming through the windows was starting to annoy him, so he pulled the blanket over his head, groaning.

A voice called from the kitchen, "Is that my favorite Spider-baby waking up?"

Tony was way too chipper for whatever time it was. What time was it? He flipped the blanket off his face and looked around, just noticing he was on the couch. Blinking wearily, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Not a baby."

"Maybe not, but you are adorable. Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

Peter pushed himself up, looking over the back of the couch toward the kitchen where Tony was cooking. The man was grinning back at him. Peter rolled his eyes and flopped back down, regretting it as soon as he did. It jostled his ribs and stomach, making him grunt in pain.

"Breakfast will be done soon," Tony said. "Scrambled eggs and some frozen waffles. I was gonna make bacon, but Pepper banned me since the incident."

Peter tossed his blanket off and climbed to his feet, walking around the couch. Resisting the urge to cradle his ribs he looked to Tony, raising a brow as he scratched his head. "The incident?"

Tony shrugged, plating some eggs. "It involved a lack of pants and a small fire—actually, this probably isn't a story I should tell you." He looked thoughtful. "Anyway, no bacon. Get over here. Food's ready."

Peter plodded over to the kitchen, pulling up a stool and taking a seat. Tony slid a plate in front of him, handing him a fork. "Dig in."

He poked at the eggs suspiciously before stabbing some with his fork and taking a bite. Chewing slowly, he considered. They weren't terrible. Swallowing, he gave Tony a nod of approval. "I didn't know you could cook."

Tony shrugged, taking his own plate and circling around the counter to sit beside Peter. "I let people think what they want. If people knew, they'd put me on rotation for dinners, and there's a difference between being able to and wanting to."

Peter made a noise of agreement as he shoveled more food into his mouth. After taking a sip of his orange juice, he looked to Tony, studying him. He wondered if he had gone to see Jack, and if he had, what he'd done. He might have let his gaze linger too long as Tony raised his brows, his fork hanging halfway to his mouth. "Something up? Food on my face?"

Peter shook his head and looked away. He didn't know what to say—if he even wanted to know the truth. It might be better not to. Could he look at Tony the same way again if he did? What if he had done something awful, something unforgivable? His mind chased scenario after scenario.

"What's wrong?"

Sliding his plate away, he rested his elbows on the counter, putting his head in his hands. Fingers knotting in his hair, he turned his head toward Tony a little. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, kid."

He dropped his hands, lifting his head to meet Tony's gaze. "I know the look you had. Whatever happened last night … don't tell me, okay? Let me pretend nothing happened."

Tony gaze flitted over him and then he nodded. "Okay." He reached over and gave Peter's shoulder a squeeze. "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea."

He let out a breath as some weight lifted from him. "Thanks."

Tony motioned to his plate. "You done eating? You didn't finish."

He nodded. "Yeah, thank you. It was good."

Tony grabbed their plates, scrapping them in the trash and dropping them in the sink. He turned and leaned against the counter, taking a dramatic breath and clapping his hands together. "So, I have a big meeting today. I debated on telling you, but I thought it would be fair to keep you involved."

Peter's brows pinched, concerned what the man might say. "Is it about the guardianship? Because I thought it was already done."

Tony put up a hand, shaking his head. "No, nothing's changed with the guardianship. This is a meeting with the FBI about the alien tech. They got a lead and are going to set up a sting—they want a few Avengers there for when things go down."

He opened his mouth to speak, to tell Tony he'd volunteer, but the man was quick to cut him off.

"Nope, don't even think about it, kiddo. Your suits not even fixed yet."

Peter's mouth snapped shut and he scowled.

"Now you just looked like an angry puppy—like a retriever who just lost his favorite toy. Don't be grumpy. It's for your own good. You need some time to rest anyway."

Peter huffed. "It's not fair. I've been involved in tracking them the longest. I should get to be there."

"The Rolling Stones said it best—you can't always get what you want." He shrugged. "I'll let you know how it goes. If things fall through, then maybe I'll let you help the next time."

His shoulders slumped. "Fine."

"I mean it, Peter. I'll keep you informed but you need to trust that I'm handling this."

He nodded. "Will you be fixing my suit soon?"

Tony scrubbed a hand over his mouth, not making eye contact. "Yeah, I'll take a look at it. Give me a few days."

It didn't sound convincing. He wondered if Tony was putting it off on purpose—afraid to see him hurt again. Injuries were always going to be part of the job and something Tony had to come to terms with.

Looking down at his watch, Tony rubbed his eyes. "Alright, I gotta run. Stay out of trouble. Bruce is in his lab if you want to do some science. I'm not sure where everyone else is, but I'm sure you'll find something to do."

Peter didn't see Tony again until later that night, but true to his word, he explained what had been said in the meeting. They were setting up for the deal to go down on the Staten Island Ferry. Tony didn't give many details, but Peter was okay with trusting the man to handle it—not everything needed to be his job. It might be time to start listening a little more and stop rushing in without plans. He'd been doing it alone long enough.

The next few days were uneventful, mostly spent watching Tony work with Bruce in his lab. They had been working on developing a pain medication that was compatible with Peter's metabolism. Tony had proved to be surprisingly good at taking blood.

"Am I good or am I good?" Tony pressed a piece of gauze to Peter's arm. After a few seconds, he lifted it and then tossed it in the trash, turning to Bruce. "Two vials of spider juice. Where do you want it?"

Bruce turned, brows lifting. "Set it with the other samples by the centrifuge."

Tony nodded and put the samples in the holder. Sighing, he put his hands on his hips, looking to Peter. "So, while Brucie discovers all the magic that is your genetic code, how about you and I work on some science of our own?"

Peter looked at him skeptically. "Like what?"

A smile spread across Tony's face. "Ever built a bot?"

The rest of the day was spent huddled around a table of parts, Tony patiently answering questions and teaching him coding. The way Tony spoke, it drew you in. He found himself learning new ways to do things, better ways, ways that made so much more sense. Time slipped away and soon Pepper was there nudging them to take a break for dinner.

The woman raised her brow, hands on her hips, head tilted to the side. She chewed her lip. "That's very … creative."

Tony scoffed. "It's ingenious is what it is. Right, Pete?"

Peter's eyes went wide at being put on the spot. He glanced at what was left of the coffeemaker. "It's pretty cool?"

"See? Cool, Pep."

"It shocks people."

Tony held up a finger. "No, it shocks Clint."

She shook her head. "I think you mad scientists need a break. Dinner is ready. I expect to see you up there in ten." She pointed at both of them, eyebrow raised. With one last shake of her head, she smiled and turned, heels clicking behind her as she left the room.

Peter and Tony looked at each other, and then to the coffeemaker, before snorting in laughter.

After dinner, Peter, Tony, and Pepper settled in on their floor for some quiet time. It was nice, comforting, but he still found himself nervous. After a lifetime of loss and broken promises, he was wary of things taking a turn. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite relax and let himself be happy, too scared the other shoe was about to drop. Pepper seemed to notice as she looked over at him while they were on the couch, her eyes crinkled as her gaze flicked over him.

"Peter." Her voice was soft. "You know that we aren't going anywhere, right? You can let your guard down. It's safe now."

He took a stuttering breath and nodded, her words meaning settling over him. It was okay. He was safe there. He picked up the remote. "You wanna watch a movie with me?"

She smiled warmly, her eyes glistening in the light. "I'd love to."

Somehow over the next two hours, he'd ended up sprawled across the couch with his feet in Pepper's lap, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest. He was more than happy that the bruises from Jack were gone and the bowl was only a comforting weight. When Tony strolled in later, he plopped down in one of the chairs and joined them, trying to grab the bowl of popcorn from him. Peter laughed, holding it out of reach and then throwing a piece at him. "Make your own. I'm sharing with Pepper."

Tony put a hand on his chest with a mock gasp. "You mean I'm not your favorite?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's not nice to make kids pick between parents." He froze after he said it, hand halfway to the bowl. He stiffened and went to draw his legs back from Pepper's lap, wanting to escape, but her hand grabbed his shin, holding him in place.

"Stay," she said, voice soft. "Please. The movies not over yet. Remember what I said? You're safe."

He relaxed back into the cushions, her hand staying on his leg. Something warm began to stir in his chest. It had been so long since he'd felt it, he almost didn't recognize the feeling. It wasn't just happiness or the tendrils of comfort he felt. It was something more—it was the beginnings of love.