A/N- Here's a quick fic to read while I work on Moonlight Promenade. I'm planning on typing the whole thing before posting it, so I'm not sure when I'll be releasing it yet.

I received a prompt from Cato Yugi on FanFiction for a lab accident where Peter gets hurt, so I figured I could use that as an excuse for some angst and fluff! Enjoy!

000

Peter slipped through the window that led to his bedroom in the Avengers Tower, silently pulling his mask from his face when his feet touched the floor. The room was dark, his Star Wars posters reflecting the light from outside being the only thing he could see.

It was well past midnight, and Peter had just finished his patrol for the night when he decided to swing to the tower instead of his apartment in Queens. May would be working well into the next day, and Peter really wasn't in the mood to be alone. He would normally feel bad intruding in someone's home, but Mr. Stark had assured him that he was welcome at the tower at any point in time, even if it was the middle of the night, and that his guest room would always be there for him.

Peter whispered for FRIDAY to turn on his lights, and as they rose to a dim shine, the AI also informed him Mr. Stark was asleep in his own room. Peter slipped out of his suit and into Mr. Starks MIT hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

One night when Peter had been staying at the tower and had woken up from a nightmare, Mr. Stark had been there in that same MIT hoodie and Peter had clung to it, the warmth of it managing to lull him back to sleep. Peter had woken up the morning after to find that hoodie still clutched to his chest. When he had reminded Mr. Stark about it, the man had just shrugged it off as if he forgot it, but he never ended up asking for it back.

Peter only wore it on certain occasions- more specifically, when he had a bad day- and today he counted as one of those occasions.

Peter told FRIDAY to let Mr. Stark sleep. Who knows when the last time the man had actually slept through an entire night?

As exhausted as his own body felt and as comfortable as his bed looked, Peter knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep. He walked out of his bedroom and to the one place he hoped would distract him from his thoughts: the lab.

Peter sat at his work station and picked up his web shooters, deciding to work on some upgrades after realizing he had left his suit in his room. His mind drifted away to somewhere he wasn't sure of, and his hands started to move as they were controlled by his subconscious. Had Peter been more coherent, he would have paid more attention to what was in front of him, but his eyelids were drooping from fatigue and he didn't think twice about what he was doing.

Peter worked with routine, hands grabbing at different tools from places he knew they always had been. He could tell he was spaced out, but it was too much for him to think about, so he didn't think at all. He just let his body do what it knew as tension started to unwind from his muscles.

Peter watched himself stand and grab an empty vial from one of the cabinets across the room, as well as some full ones that held chemicals he used to make his web fluid. Peter sat back down at his desk and started pouring something from one vial into the empty one, and then mixed in a few drops of something else. The concoction bubbled to the surface and nearly over flowed, but then the bubbles stopped and simmered back down into the vial. Peter picked up the only vial he hadn't used yet, which was a mix of chemicals Mr. Stark and him had created to make his webs stronger, and poured the last of its contents into the web fluid.

The only thing Peter felt was something piercing his skin before he fell unconscious.

000

"-id! Peter!"

Peter groaned as his head gave a sharp stab of pain, whoever was yelling in his ear was not giving him a good time.

"Shit, kid. C'mon, open your eyes."

Peter hadn't even realized his eyes were closed, but he did as the voice said a pulled them open. They burned the second they were exposed to the air, and he snapped them shut again when the light sent another stab of pain to his head. He had only managed to get a glimpse of his surroundings, but something had been covering most of his view anyway. There was a familiar smell- smoke, he realized- and then the familiar voice that had been yelling at him ever since he woke up.

"Wha-", Peter coughed, the smoke having scratched its way down his throat and into his lungs. It hurt, everything hurt, and now that he started coughing, he couldn't seem to stop. His entire body shook as he felt like he was coughing up a lung. Peter could already feel himself drifting off again, the pain that was taking over his body seeming to numb itself over.

"Kid, hey, no! Stay awake Peter, open your eyes!"

Peter felt himself being lifted, and he felt weightless. His body was floating and his mind was drifting, and even though that voice had told him to stay awake, he really didn't want to. He was resting against something warm and familiar, and he felt so safe, he didn't think he could stay awake even if he tried.

"Kiddo, just hold on for a couple more minutes, okay? Just open your eyes, Pete-" the voice choked off, sounding so desperate. Peter felt bad, he really did, and he promised himself he would make it up to whatever voice was crying above him, but he lost the battle he hadn't been trying to win and let himself drift away.

000

When Peter opened his eyes, he was met with a familiar tiled ceiling he had been woken up to many times before. He recognized the feeling of the expensive couch underneath him, and of the soft throw blanket that was draped over his form.

He woke up in the living room of the Avengers Tower often, but this time he had no recollection of how he got there. He didn't have any time to worry because he quickly recognized a familiar heartbeat next to him. Peter turned his gaze toward the sound, finding Tony seated next to him with a StarkPad in his lap.

Tony's gaze quickly snapped to Peter when the boy moved, relief flooding his features when he saw Peter awake and coherent.

"Hey, kid," he said softly, hands reaching out in assistance as Peter pushed himself into a seated position.

"What happened?" Peter asked, voice raspy and laced with sleep.

"You don't remember?"

Peter shook his head.

"That's okay. It'll probably come back to you. You had an accident in the lab, knocked you out with a concussion. That ring a bell?" Tony asked, voice still softer than ever.

Flashes came back to Peter, he remembered entering the lab and messing around with his web fluid, but he didn't remember an explosion. Peter nodded anyway, figuring it didn't matter much. That night wasn't necessarily something he wanted to remember.

Seeming as though he read Peter's mind, Tony asked the question Peter had been dreading.

"What happened kid? Not in the lab, before."

Peter shifted his gaze to his lap. Even though him and Tony had grown incredibly close, he couldn't stop himself from thinking he was burdening the man every time they had these talks.

Tony sighed after a few moments of silence, knowing what Peter was thinking, but deciding not to bring it up.

"I saw you were wearing that sweatshirt again. One of my favorites. It's pretty comfortable, isn't it?" Tony's tone had changed, and Peter was starting to overthink what he was saying.

"Uh, you can have it back. I just thought-"

"Peter," Tony said, voice slightly firmer than before. He lifted his hand and started to run it through the boy's curls, Peter leaning in to the touch almost immediately. "Your suit looked a bit... charred. You want to tell me what happened there?"

Tony could see Peter tense under him, knowing he hit the nail on the head.

"You can talk to me Pete."

They sat in silence for a few more moments, Peter quietly contemplating whether or not he would talk. Soon enough, he leaned over onto his mentor's shoulder, Tony quickly readjusting so he could still play with Peter's hair.

"There was... uh... a fire. At a house in the suburbs. I wasn't too far away so I-" Peter paused to clear his throat, the memory making it go dry. "I figured I could help. The mom was already outside, her two kids were still upstairs. I was able to get in through a window, I got her son out and to the ground. The firefighters were yelling at me... I wasn't really listening though. Figured it was the usual "get out of the way" thing."

Tears started to fall down Peter's face, but he didn't bother to wipe them away.

"But then... then my senses went off. The roof fell in and the whole place collapsed. The boy was- was coughing and crying, and his mom was screaming for her daughter."

Peter couldn't talk anymore, sobs starting to crash over him. Tony turned and fully pulled Peter in to his arms, Peter clinging to him the moment he was embraced.

"I- I couldn't get her- she c-couldn't have s-survived that, Mr. Stark-"

Tony shushed Peter as the boy continued to sob, slightly rocking them back and forth as Peter clung to him like a lifeline. They sat like that for a while, Peter tucked away in Tony's arms where no one would be able to harm them.

After a while, Peter's sobs tapered off into short breaths, but Tony didn't make a move to let go. Instead, he continued to comfort the boy and whisper reassurances in his ear until Peter seemed to relax and his breathing went back to normal.

"I know those things are hard, kiddo. We all have those days. But all you can do is focus on what you did do, not what you didn't. You saved that woman's son, and if you hadn't been there, he might not have been saved."

Peter started to feel heavy in his arms, so Tony leaned back and pulled the blanket tighter around Peter's frame.

"You were there, and you saved a kid's life. That's all you need to know, all you got to remember. In my book, that's called being a hero." Tony was talking at a whisper as he watched Peter's red-rimmed eyes start to fall shut. He continued to brush his hand through his kid's hair as the tension melted away from Peter's muscles.

Feeling calmer than he had in ages, Peter let himself drift off to sleep, a whispered, "I'm proud of you, kid," sending him into a peaceful slumber.