Peter willed the world to shut up. Days like this happened rarely, but when they did, he wished he was alone-not surrounded by hundreds of noisy teenagers.

His head throbbed. Similar to a toothache, but in your brain. Right between the eyes. With every little sound, his ears rang.

And don't get him started on the lights. There were few actual light bulbs in the school, they depended more on big windows and natural lighting. Today was a sunny day. And never did Peter think he would wish for even the smallest cloud to cover the sun, but that's what he needed right now. A break.

He just needed to get to his locker. He was practically navigating the hallways blind. Opening his eyes as little and as rarely as he could, just to glance at the floor and make sure he wouldn't run into anything. In this situation he would usually depend on his enhanced hearing to navigate around people, but he was trying to drown out as much noise as possible.

Just a little further. He recognized that crack in the wall. He was almost there. Almost to a little bit of relief.

He reached the row of lockers his was in and he placed his hand on the wall to count them. One, two, three, fo- he jumped as something was placed on his face.

"Looking for these, Peter?" Ned whispered carefully to his friend.

Peter recognized the small pair of glasses on his face. A smile formed on his face as he slowly opened his eyes. "Thanks, Ned. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Peter glanced around the now much darker hallway. He made sure to keep this glasses in his locker for emergency "over stimulation days" as Ned deemed them.

The glasses themselves looked like simple aviators, except they were extra tinted. Someone with normal vision wouldn't be able to see out of them, but for Peter, they filtered out just the right amount of light for him to get on with his day without being in nearly as much pain.

His headache was still there, and everything was still loud, but that was something Peter lived with. Some days it was just dialed up higher than others. As long as he could see, he could survive the day.

"Why didn't you tell me that today was a bad day?" Ned spoke up, reminding Peter of his presence.

"Sorry, Ned. It just came on suddenly. Thought I could make it to my locker by myself."

"At least we're almost through with the day, right?"

"Right, buddy," Peter plastered a more forced smile on his face. As much as he liked to tell Ned he was fine, and he could handle everything on his own, these headaches really pulled everything out of him. He didn't have the energy to do anything except make it through the rest of the day.

Thankfully for Peter, his episode came on with only one class left for the day. He made it through math without increasing his pain level by too much. The lights were still insanely bright, and everyone was so loud, but he was finally free. He could finally get out of here.

Peter waved goodbye to Ned, and quickly bounded down the steps to the street, trying to get to Happy's car as quickly as he could.

He pulled the car door open and dropped himself inside, letting his eyes shut tightly the second the door was pulled closed behind him.

He could hear as Happy lifted his arm off the center console, reaching forward and grabbing the volume dial on the stereo, turning it to the left to lower the volume on whatever music he had playing. "Thanks," Peter mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes yet.

Happy shifted his leg slightly, turning his foot to the right to press on down on the gas pedal. "Bad day?" He asked over his shoulder as he drove.

"Yeah.. Started just before math."

"You really gotta tell Tony about this. I can tell it's painful for you, even if you don't want to admit it."

Peter cracked an eye open to see Happy glancing at him in the rearview mirror. After all the times Happy has picked him up and dropped him off places, it's easy for Peter to see that he started to care for him. It was especially evident when he threatened to rat Peter out for not dealing with Flash. "I know, Happy. I'm gonna bring it up when I get to the tower."

"Good. Otherwise I'd have to tell him and we both know how it ended up last time I threatened to do that," he smirked slightly.

Peter let out a small chuckle, glancing to the window where he watched the tall buildings fly by. "Yeah. That wasn't fun," he laughed.

Peter stepped out of the elevator, dropping his sunglasses into his backpack so he wouldn't worry Mr. Stark. He knew he was going to take everyone's advice and ask him to help him make something better, but that could wait. Right now, he just needed a few moments of peace and quiet in the tower.

His hope for a quiet evening was shattered when he heard Mr. Stark yelling from the kitchen. Peter couldn't help his flinch when he first heard it, but Mr. Stark was being awfully loud. He'd never heard him this angry over something before.

He stopped just shy of the kitchen entrance, standing off to the side as he listened since he didn't want to interrupt the phone call.

"I know I need to calm down, Pep. I'm trying. He's driving me absolutely insane! It's like ever since Germany he hasn't let me out of his sight. It's just so infuriating. Like he doesn't understand I have other stuff to do, I don't have time to deal with the shit he's constantly bringing up. God, Pep. I just… I wish I didn't have to deal with him anymore."

Peter dropped his bag to the floor as his jaw dropped in shock. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. How could he be so stupid? He turned on his heels, racing to the stairs. He needed out of here. He couldn't believe how naive he was to let this go on for so long. Mr. Stark doesn't care about him and he never did. He's just a burden.

"Yeah, you're right. I just have to suck it up and deal with him. Soon enough, Ross and the whole accords fiasco will be behind me. You know, when this is all over I might just punch him in the face. For fun," Tony chuckled, turning around in the kitchen to get a glimpse of the lounge. He was waiting for Peter to arrive. "Hey, I'll call you back later. The kid should be here soon. Alright, yeah, I love you, Pep."

Tony ended the phone call and dropped his phone into his pocket, looking down at his watch. Peter got out of school not too long ago, so Happy should be dropping him off soon. "Fri, what's the ETA on Pete?"

"Sir, Mr. Parker arrived 5 minutes ago," she responded.

"Did he go straight to the lab?"

"No sir."

"Well.. Where is he?" Toby asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Something felt off.

"Mr. Parker is currently located on the roof," she finally answered after what felt like ages.

Now Tony was sure something was off. "He's what? On the roof? Why?" Tony asked, already stepping forward in the direction of the elevator.

FRIDAY was quiet. Much like last month when his AI found it difficult to break the news to him about Peter's accident. "Friday… Why is Peter on the roof?" He asked again, worry present in his voice.

"Sir, I believe Mr. Parker may have overheard your phone call and interpreted it as about him."

"Shit," Tony muttered, turning on his heels in the direction of the stairs. He didn't want to waste anytime in the elevator.

Tony took the stairs two at a time. He highly doubted Peter would do anything stupid, but he did say some pretty awful things about Ross, and for Peter to think they were about him? He wasn't sure how he'd handle it.

He couldn't help but hold his breath as he reached forward and grabbed the door handle. He found himself praying to any and all entities he could think of.

Pushing the door open and stepping onto the roof, Tony took in the sight before him.

Everything was wrecked. Boxes were thrown around, papers littered the ground, and any furniture that was up here had been turned on it's side or broken into several pieces.

He let out the breath he was holding in relief when he finally spotted Peter. He was curled up on his side, pressed into the corner where the two half ways met, hands pressed hard against his eyes.

"Pete?" Tony called out and carefully stepped closer. "Are you alright? What are you doing up here, bud?"

"Just go away," Peter called back without moving. "I'll get out of your life. I'll get my stuff and leave, okay? Just leave me alone."

Tony continued stepping forward until he was close enough, he dropped himself down on the ground next to Peter. "Where'd you get that idea?"

If it were possible, Tony would claim he could hear the kid roll his eyes at his comment.

"I heard you on the phone. You were complaining to Pepper about not wanting to deal with me. I shouldn't have gone to Germany with you. I shouldn't have gotten involved."

Tony simply sat there and started to laugh.

Peter lifted his head off the ground slightly, furrowing his brows as he looked up at Tony. "What's so funny?"

"You are," Tony said after he stopped laughing. He looked down to the kid curled up at his side. "If you were to have stuck around for a few more seconds, you would've heard me say it was about Ross, and his bullshit accords."

"R-really?" Peter asked, finally pushing himself into a seated position. He was no longer pushing his hands into his eyes, but they still lingered around his head, almost like he was plugging his ears. "You don't hate me?"

"Of course I don't. I could never hate you. You're like my kid— no, wait. Scratch that. You are my kid, whether you like it or not."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. It means—"

One of the chairs Peter had knocked on its side earlier in his rage tipped over in the breeze. Peter couldn't help but flinch as the metal chair collided with the concrete ground with a loud crash that echoed in his head. Instinctively he reached his hands up and covered his ears. He wished everyone wasn't so loud right now.

Tony glanced between the toppled over chair and Peter curled up with his hands pressed against his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. "Hey.. What's up?"

"Bad day.. Everything's so bright and loud, but mainly bright."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tony asked, carefully digging into his pocket to grab the pair of sunglasses he always carries with him.

"Here," he said, unfolding the glasses and gently placing them on Peter's face. "That help?"

Peter slowly opened his eyes and glanced around. "Yeah, it is. Thank you," he said softly before glancing back down to his lap in shame. "I was gonna tell you… But then I overheard you on the phone and freaked out. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I swear. I just walked in and could hear everything."

"It's okay, I understand," Tony assured him. He pushed himself up off the ground, reaching down to help Peter up. "C'mon, lets go whip something up to help with your bad days."

Peter reached up to grab ahold of Tony to lift himself up, mumbling a small, "Alright."

Carefully Tony led Peter back down the stairs into the building, taking him directly to the workshop. "So, spill. What happens on your bad days? What do you need to protect against?" He asked as he leaned against a workbench.

"Well… It's just like.. Okay. So you already know that after the bite my senses were dialed up to 11?" Peter paused, waiting for confirmation from Tony. His nod was Peter's cue to continue. "On my bad days, it's like they jump from an 11 to a 20. Light becomes almost unbearable, and I can hear everything. Whispers become yells, and talking becomes screaming. It's just too much to handle."

"Jeez, kid," Tony said as he pushed himself forward off the workbench, reaching for some supplies. "Why'd you wait to say anything to me?"

Peter stepped to where Tony was previously leaning, and hopped up to sit on the workbench, letting his legs dangle. "I dunno… I guess I was just embarrassed. I felt like I should have to deal with it on my own. Like.. Like I didn't wanna bother you for help."

"You don't have to worry about stuff like that. Everyone needs help eventually. And no matter how much they don't want your help or think they don't need it, you still help them. 'Cause we all need help, got it?"

Peter nodded his head, watching Tony move around the workshop grabbing different supplies, and tools. "Understood, sir" he said, mockingly, with a laugh.

It didn't take Tony very long to, as he said, whip something up. After about 10 minutes in the workshop, he presented Peter with two things. A paid of extra tinted glasses, and what looked like a simple pair of earbuds.

Peter reached his hands out and took them gratefully. He slipped the glasses on his face, mouth gaping in awe. They were much darker than his originals. The lenses almost looked black, but when he put them on it was like the lights were dimmed around him. It was perfect.

He listened as Tony explained the earbuds. They were basically a pair of regular earbuds, but Tony replaced the sensors and added extra noise canceling. Peter put them in his ears and tapped the sides of them to activate the noise canceling, and was even more amazed. Everything around him instantly quieted to a level Peter could actually stand.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Really. I can't thank you enough," Peter said as he dropped himself off the workbench.

"Don't mention it, kid," he paused, glancing down at him. "Here, I know how you can thank me," he smirked slightly, throwing his arms out wide, waiting for Peter to give him a hug.

Peter couldn't help the smile that formed on his face when Mr. Stark held his arms out, waiting. He quickly stepped forward and reached his arms around his torso, burying his head in his shoulder.

Tony wrapped his arms around the shorter boy, holding him tightly. They stood there in silence for a few moments, Tony mentally debating if he should say this next thing or not. If he didn't say it now, he didn't know when he'd get himself to say it. And he's been beating himself up over the simple phrase for the last few weeks.

"I love you, kid," he finally managed to say, holding his breath while he waited for a response.

Peter figured he should probably be scared or something other than what he was really feeling. He felt good. The words felt right. He lifted his head up slightly so his words wouldn't be muffled. "I love you too, Mr. Stark."

Tony let out a breath of relief, a smile forming on his face. "Good," he said softly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on the top of Peter's head.