Peter woke up to pain. The light streaming through the blinds was blinding. The sheets wrapped around him felt coarse and rubbed his skin roughly. And the sounds. Peter could hear the breathing of almost everyone in the compound. He could hear someone in the kitchen, and a cacophony of heartbeats battered his head.
Peter couldn't even be happy that his hearing was back. The culmination of things attacking his senses made him nauseous, and it took all of his willpower not to throw up all over his bed.
He writhed, whimpering in pain. If he had been paying attention, Peter would have heard Friday saying that she was notifying Mr. Stark. But he wasn't, and Peter continued to cry out in pain.
In his own room down the hallway, Tony was awoken by his AI's voice.
"Boss, it appears Peter is experiencing a bout of sensory overload. He is currently in his room. I would suggest you assist him." Was that worry in Friday's voice? Tony had no time to reflect as he ripped the covers off of himself and burst out of his room.
Tony sprinted down the hallway, wrenching open Peter's door. He froze, watching as Peter twisted while tears streamed down his face.
The man rushed forward, pulling open a drawer in the nightstand.
"It's okay Petey, just wait one second. You'll be okay, I promise." Tony was babbling and he knew it.
Tony finally found the object he was looking for, and then turned to run in the closet. He rifled through the clothes until he found an old MIT sweatshirt Peter had stolen from him a couple of months ago.
Tony went back over to the bed, carefully pulling the sheets away from the boy. He somehow managed to wiggle Peter's shirt off of his body, and slid the softer sweatshirt back onto him. He turned Peter's face and slid on a pair of tinted sunglasses.
Peter calmed down slightly, but was still whimpering in pain. Tony's eyes widened in realization and he grabbed a modified pair of hearing aids out of the drawer. He slid them over Peter's head, and suddenly, everything stopped.
Behind the sunglasses, Tony saw Peter's eyes open.
"Dad?" Peter's voice was small.
'.. .-. - / ... . .-. . -..- / -... .- -... -.-' I'm here, baby.
A broken sob passed Peter's lips, and Tony's heart clenched. He ran his fingers through Peter's curls as lightly as possible.
"Stay? Please." Peter whispered.
Tony nodded, climbing into the bed next to Peter and gathering the distraught boy into his arms.
'.. .-. ...- . / -. - - / -.- - ..- -..- / -... .- - -... ..' I've got you, Bambi.
Peter curled up into Tony's chest, nuzzling his nose into the base of the man's neck. Tony only smiled sadly, hugging the boy tighter.
And the pair fell asleep, curled together.
Tony awoke first, smiling at the small boy on his chest. Tony's hand was running through the teen's curls, making Peter snuggle impossibly closer.
About half an hour later, Peter started to stir. His eyes blinked open slowly, and he yawned. Finally, he looked up at Tony and smiled.
The man gently removed the glasses and headphones from Peter's head. Peter's nose scrunched, but he showed no other signs of discomfort.
"Are you okay, Bambi?" Tony asked quietly.
Peter's eyes watered, and he wrapped his lanky arms around Tony again.
"I'm okay. Thank you for taking care of me," He whispered against Tony's neck.
"Always, baby. Always."
Eventually, the pair made their way up to the kitchen.
They made quite a sight. Peter was clinging onto Tony's back like a monkey, and Tony helped to support him at his thighs.
Most of the team was there, eating breakfast and drinking coffee. They all watched, baffled, as the pair acted completely normal.
"What do you want to eat, Petey?" Tony asked, depositing him on his normal barstool.
"Uhm...leftovers are fine."
As Tony worked on heating up the food, Peter was left sitting and waiting. The team took the chance they were given.
"So, you can hear now?" Clint asked. Natasha smacked his arm, but didn't comment.
"Uh-yeah. I can now, Mr. Barton-Hawkeye-sir." Peter stuttered, blushing furiously.
"Wow, kid. That was excessive," Clint said, laughing.
Peter just ducked his head into his arms on the counter. Tony laughed from the other side of the counter.
"C'mon, Dad, really? Not you too," Peter whined.
As one, the rest of the occupants of the room froze and turned to stare at Tony.
He coughed, and rubbed his neck.
"Ah...haha, thanks for this one, Pete. Really helpin' out your old man." Tony's voice was weak and nervous.
"Oops?" Peter whispered.
"Before you guys ask, I'm not Peter's dad. Biologically, at least. For some reason this kid thinks I'm someone he should look up to, which is not what he should think, but I can't really say it's not nice, so. Yeah," Tony said, pointedly looking at Peter.
"Tony, don't sell yourself short. I think it's great that he looks up to you. You're a great man. You two obviously care for each other, and I can speak for all of us. We're happy for you." Steve's voice was kind.
Tony's face held an expression of shock, before it morphed into something soft.
"Thanks, Capsicle."
The rest of breakfast passed in a similar manner. The usual animosity that was present in the compound seemed to have dissipated.
"Why were you up so early this morning, anyway, Tony?" Clint asked, shoving his sixth piece of toast into his mouth. Natasha watched, disgusted.
Tony choked on his coffee briefly and quickly composed himself. He looked to Peter for permission. After a nervous nod from the teen, Tony responded.
"Was helping the kid. Got a bad case of sensory overload early this morning when his hearing came back."
Heads turned to face Peter, and he blushed.
"Yeah, it's not really fun. I wouldn't recommend trying that, if I were you guys."
Tony laughed, wrapping his arm around his kid.
"What does that even mean?" Sam asked, bewildered. "What is sensory overload?"
"Basically, when I was bit by the spider, my senses were dialed to eleven. Sometimes, things are too loud, too bright, too rough, and my senses make it feel painful. That's when it feels like one hundred. It can get really bad," Peter explained.
"That sounds awful, Peter," Wanda said, a worried expression on her face.
"Yeah, it is. I'm kind of used to though."
"Have you ever had it worse than this morning?" Tony asked, facing Peter.
"Uh, yeah, I have."
Tony immediately became worried.
"You have? I thought this morning was bad! How often does it happen, Peter?"
"Well, they aren't uncommon, I guess? I've had them up to four times a week before. That was a bad week." Peter shuddered. "And the worst I had was right after I got my powers. I woke up and I thought I was gonna die."
Tony grabbed the teenager, pulling him into his arms. Peter felt his arms shaking slightly around him.
"God, Bambi, why didn't you say anything? I could've helped!"
The team's eyebrows collectively raised at the nickname, but they didn't comment.
"Dad, you kind of didn't even know me when I was bitten. And then after," Peter fidgeted. "I didn't want to bother you."
Tony's face contorted into one of regret. His arms tightened minutely around Peter.
'.. - / ... - / ... - .-. .-. -.-' I'm so sorry.
'.. - ... / - -.- .- -.-' It's okay.
Tony pulled away slightly, still holding Peter's arms.
"Besides! Whatever those earbuds and glasses were really helped! Did you make them?" Peter deflected.
"I did, Underoos. Modified a pair of Clint's hearing aids, and messed with the idea for glasses. Turns out it was a good idea, huh?" Tony replied, keeping his arm wrapped around the teen.
"Yeah. It was," Peter said softly.
'- ... .- -. -.- / -.- - ..- / ... - / - ..- -.-. ... -..- / -.. .- -..' Thank you so much, Dad.
'.- .-.. .- .- -.- …' Always.
The team watched the father and son duo, glad that Tony had finally found true happiness with someone as sweet and pure as Peter.
Hope you enjoyed! I've been a terrible author I know I know.
This is kinda slow right now, but the next chapter should get it rolling a little.
Thanks for reading,
djooo