Tony doesn't know how to feel. He knew something was off about the kid the moment he showed up, but Peter just shrugged off his concern, shot him a blinding smile and asked what they where working on today, so Tony let it slide. Mistake number one.

The quietness is unusual, Peter is usually of stream of never ending chatter, but today he barely speaks more than a couple sentences. Tony does his best to strike up a conversation, but falls flat when he only revives nods, the kid looks so absorbed in his work that Tony drops it. Mistake number two.

The next mistake is done on purpose and Tony feels his heart crack just thinking about it. Peter had gotten worse and there was no concealing the way his breathing had picked up, growing erratic much too quickly. And Tony had stumbled his way through not only realizing that Peter was having a panic attack, but also acting on it. The kid reacted harshly to light and sound, lights off, sound proof headphones, good and dealt with. Getting Peter to the floor- a hopefully more comfortable space than where he was hunched over on the stool- is where the mistake arose. He shouldn't have touched Peter, after seeing his other sense go haywire he knew, int he back of his mind, that it wasn't a good idea.

Peter pulls away and Tony faintly sees something harsh flicker in his eyes and he wants to stop, but his kid is shaking like a leaf and, frankly, looks like he's going to collapse any moment. So, he does his best to guide Peter into a sitting position as quickly as he can. He sits next to Peter, not close enough to touch, but, hopefully, if Peter needed him he would know that Tony was there. And Tony sat there, doing his best not to feel useless.

Tony didn't know how to help, Peter couldn't hear him and the moment they were on the floor the kids eyes had closed, squeezed shut almost painfully tight; also given the fact that he couldn't touch him without making it worse. They would defiantly need to talk after this, Tony needed to know how to help.

He lost track of how long they sat there, though he knew it wasn't as long as it had felt. He shot another glance at Peter when the kids breathing changed. Seconds later, Peter leaned against him, legs strait, eyes closed, almost dead weight against Tony's side, he he hesitated before softly running his hands through his kids hair, brushing away some locks that were stuck down. And he felt Peter relax further, eyes glazed and tired peered up at him before the kid was out like a light,

Tony opted to carry him and was startled by how light Peter was, but he pushed that thought back, it was something for another day. Once he got Peter to bed, he left and tried to busy himself telling FRIDAY to alert him when Peter woke up. His mind couldn't stay focused on the task at hand, it kept wandering back to Peter. Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes, he wasn't going to get any work done.

Peter woke up surprisingly quick, not even an hour had passed since his panic attack when FRIDAY told him. Tony slowly made his way to Peters room, running through what he wanted to talk about, how to help, prevention, etcetera. Tony knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before he walked in, "Hey, kid. How you feeling?"

Peter blinked at him slowly, rubbing a hand on his face, "I'm-," he cleared his throat, "really hungry and-," a yawn, "tired,"

Tony chuckled, "I can imagine, you had a nasty panic attack there Pete. C'mon, I'll get you something to eat,"

They made their way down to the kitchen, "Anything you want? Or just like cereal or toast or?" Tony trailed off, waiting for Peter to answer.

"Cereal okay,"

"So," Tony started again, unsure of how to start this conversation, "you wanna tell em about what happened?"

Peter paused in front of the cupboards and sighed, "Panic attacks aren't new to me, I mean I've always seemed to have a problem with anxiety, but today was the worst one in a long time."

"Any reason why?"

Peter shrugged, avoiding eye contact, "Just one of those days,"

Tony nodded, "Anything I can do to help, either now or in the future?"

Peter shrugged again, "I dunno,"

Tony resisted the urge to sigh, settling for a, hopefully, comforting smile, "Let me know when you do,"

Peter nodded sluggishly and Tony let himself sigh, "When you're done with that," he said gesturing towards the bowl of cereal, "get some more rest, I'll call May and tell her you're staying the night."

"Yeah, okay," Peter mumbled voice impossibly soft, eyes drooping, "Thanks dad,"

Tony practically melted on the spot, and could the universe give him a fucking break, he's felt way to many emotions for the day thank you very much. Tony didn't respond, he didn't trust his voice as a lump in his throat grew, he ruffled Peters hair and it hit him without much surprise that, yeah, he would do anything for his kid.