Peter had a sleepless night. He tossed and turned, dipping in and out of nightmares. Visions of being kicked out by the Avengers, failing as Spider-Man, and letting down his aunt and Tony flashed in his mind. Peter watched the sunrise from his window after giving up on sleep.

"Peter, Mr. Stark would like to see you in his lab," FRIDAY informed. Peter reluctantly stood up and checked the time, it was 5 AM. He slipped into a pair of loose jeans, a plain, grey shirt, and a baggy Stark Industries hoodie.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked meekly as he entered Tony's personal lab. Tony turned his chair to face Peter and gestured to the empty seat in front of him. The teen nervously sat down.

"FRI told me that you didn't get a wink of sleep last night. What's up?" Peter froze. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from Tony, but it certainly wasn't this.

"I'm adjusting, that's all." Tony seemed to buy his story halfway and that was enough for him to drop the topic.

"If something is going on past that, you can talk to me." Peter nodded in response. The atmosphere had a slight tension to it.

"Of course, that's not the only reason you're here." Tony pulled up holographic blueprints for a new Spidey suit. If Peter wasn't so exhausted, he would have jumped for joy at the prospect of improving his suit. Tony briefed him on all the upgrades and fixes. The two worked tirelessly for hours. FRIDAY interrupted them with an announcement that it was lunchtime. The duo paused their work and headed down to join the other residents of the tower.

"You must be starving, Pete. I forgot to stop for breakfast," Tony apologized in his unique way. Peter shook his head.

"Not really. I don't have much of an appetite for lunch either." Peter hadn't eaten breakfast since the school stopped serving it due to budget cuts. That was a year and a half ago.

"Kid, is something going on?" The elevator doors opened to let them into the dining room. Much to the team's confusion, Tony pressed the button to close the doors and stopped the elevator.

"Mr. Stark, I don't know what you mean—" Tony interrupted Peter.

"Bullshit. I haven't been around you long, but it's enough to see that something is off."

"But, Mr. Stark, we don't know my metabolism—" Tony cut him off again.

"Enhanced is enhanced. You can't tell me you're well-fed when I can do this." The man grabbed Peter's wrist and wrapped his thumb and pinkie finger around it so far that they overlapped. Peter tore his wrist away and hastily stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket. He stared at his feet, unable to meet Tony's eyes without breaking down.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Tony pulled down Peter's collar so his protruding collarbone was visible to emphasize his point. Now there was nothing Peter could do to keep himself from breaking down. The teen pulled up his hood so it covered the sides of his face. He was too ashamed to openly cry in front of the man he looked up to. Tony sighed and pulled Peter into an unpracticed and slightly awkward hug. There were no known words to be said; Peter didn't know how to explain himself, and Tony certainly didn't know any comforting wisdom. So, the two stood in the stopped elevator listening to the quiet whirr of machinery and Peter's muffled sobs. After 10 minutes, the moment was invaded by FRIDAY's voice.

"Sir, the others are voicing concerns about your extended stay in the elevator with Peter." Tony huffed with annoyance.

"Tell them to mind their own damn business." Peter pulled away just enough to look Tony in the face. His baby blue eyes were red-rimmed and watery, his cheeks and the tip of his nose were reddened.

"It's okay, Mr. Stark. We shouldn't keep them waiting," Peter mumbled.

"Are you sure? We could always ditch those losers and go get ice cream." Peter couldn't help but smile at Tony's offer.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' Let's roll." Tony placed a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder and squeezed it affectionately.

"FRI, take us to my garage and tell the others they can enjoy their boring lunch without us." Peter laughed lightly and that eased Tony. There was a mutual feeling that everything would be okay.

Tony and Peter returned a few hours later. They got ice cream at the best parlor in NYC, then sandwiches in Queens because Peter had mentioned his favorite corner shop. They meant to head back afterward, but passed by a small street concert in Times Square and stopped to watch. The crowd recognized Tony and the lead singer pulled the duo onto the makeshift stage. The "small street concert" turned out to be Coldplay on lunch break. Peter got an autographed guitar as a souvenir. Shortly after, the paparazzi chased Tony and Peter all the way back to Tony's Ferrari.

"That was the best lunch ever!" Peter exclaimed excitedly as they rode the elevator up to the common room.

"The ice cream was so good, and then Coldplay! Did you know it was them?! MJ and Ned are going to freak out when I show them the guitar! I mean, seriously freak! Ned and I planned to sing Paradise at our fifth-grade talent show, but Ned got super bad stage fright and vomited on Mrs. Trushes' blouse," Peter rambled enthusiastically as they entered the common room.

"Sounds like you two had a great time. Is that what you were planning in the elevator?" Clint commented with a playful grin. Peter's mood took a cliff dive. His smile disappeared and his eyes lost their shine.

"Hey, Peter, why don't I help you find a safe place to keep that guitar? You can tell me all about your outing with Tony while we're at it," Sam stepped in quickly, trying to save Peter's mood. The teen seemed to lighten up slightly, but it was obvious that Clint's comment had seriously affected him. Tony shot Sam a silent "thank you," before Peter was whisked away.

"What aren't you telling us?" Natasha interrogated. Tony took a seat in an empty armchair and rested his head in his hands tiredly.

"I'm not entirely sure, yet. That's what I was trying to figure out in the elevator, but he broke down before I could get any answers."

"Oh," Clint said quietly, feeling his stomach clench with guilt.

"Tell us what you know. Maybe we can help," Steve offered.

Tony hesitated," I'm not sure if that's info for me to share." He didn't want to invade Peter's privacy by sharing what may very well be an extremely personal issue.

"He's family, Tony." Surprisingly, it was Bucky who spoke up. Bucky had grown fond of the kid since he first met him. Peter reminded him of young Steve.

"Fine," Tony sighed," I'll tell you." The man went on to recite what he knew about Peter's struggles: the lack of appetite, lack of sleep, and lack of weight.

"This calls for a subtle plan of action." Natasha eyed Clint and Thor when she said "subtle."

"And how exactly do we do that?" Rhodey asked. The Avengers— minus Sam— huddled up to make a plan while the missing pair were seated on Peter's bed in his room.

"You're a good kid. You know that, right?" Sam asked.

Peter shrugged, "I just try to do the right thing."

"See, you're doing it again," Sam pointed out.

"Doing what again?" Peter asked with confusion.

"You're downplaying yourself."

"I'm just being honest, Sam," Peter brushed off.

"No, you're not giving yourself nearly enough credit. You gave up a normal life and decided to use your powers to fight crime instead of committing it. You save people without seeking pay or fame. Meanwhile, you work your ass off at school to make straight a's, attend extracurricular activities you don't have the energy for to support your friends. And even with all that on your plate, you still do everything you can to help your aunt financially and be a good nephew. Any other Avenger in your shoes would have given up, even me." Peter stared at Sam with wide eyes. He had never thought of his life from that perspective.

"Mr. Wil— er, Sam. Do you really mean that?" Peter asked, waiting for a big "just kidding" and to be laughed at. Instead, Sam's eyes flashed with sadness. He placed a hand on Peter's upper arm, taking note of how small it was.

"I mean it with all my heart, Peter," he said genuinely. Peter's eyes watered and his bottom lip quivered. The teen hugged Sam tight, his face hidden in the crook of the man's neck.

"Thank you, Sam," Peter choked out. Sam's chest ached as he thought about how little Peter must think of himself. Sam squeezed him comfortingly.

"Anytime, kid."