Peter rolled over and glanced at his alarm clock.

12: 13 AM

This isn't fair.

He rolled back over to the other side of his bed, lifting his eyes to the plain white ceiling above him. Peter groaned.

Tomorrow, Peter had to attend a press conference. Well, they all had to attend a press conference, and Rhodey insisted that they all went to bed early to avoid what happened last time.

Peter gulped . . .

The last press conference they attended was in Berlin, which Peter wasn't too thrilled about. He was nervous, especially because he didn't think people would approve of him wearing his Spiderman outfit to the conference. Tony, Natasha, Rhodey and Vision would be all dolled up in their fancy business attire, while he stood out like a sore thumb in his bright red and black costume.

He complained to Natasha about it, and to help him keep his mind off of it, they stayed up late, watching three seasons of The Office in a row. Peter didn't sleep a wink that night, mainly because he was watching TV with Natasha. She managed to doze off somewhere in season three, but Peter stayed strong and finished it.

At the press conference, everything seemed to be running smoothly until Spiderman fell asleep. Literally. His head banged on the table and made the microphone whistle angrily when he collapsed.

Even all the Starbucks in the world couldn't save Peter.

Rhodey was furious.

Peter was surprised at how the kind, thoughtful man was able to scold. Rhodey sat him down, explaining that what he did was a big deal and that they'd have to think up a reason for Spiderman fell asleep in a middle of a press conference.

Tony, with all of his charm, calmed the reporters down, but it was obvious that Peter would have to stay awake for this upcoming press conference.

Rhodey declared it lights out at 10:00 pm for everyone, and they all obeyed. Well, the tried to.

Peter couldn't sleep. He had been tossing and turning for hours, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping it would send him into the warm, comforting oblivion. His stomach protested though as it grumbled loudly, demanding for sustenance.

Usually, Peter had a snack around 11:00 PM, a few hours before he went to bed. Not accustomed to the lack of food, Peter grabbed onto his sheets and sighed.

He needed food.

Sitting up silently, Peter gently set one of his feet onto the ground, but then bit his lip. There were cameras everywhere, and Rhodey had threatened to watch them in the morning to see if Peter stayed up. However, it wasn't like he was having a movie marathon; he was simply getting a glass of orange juice and a microwavable Ramin noodles.

Determined, Peter slid completely out of bed, and walked out the door. He quickly attached himself to the ceiling, and started crawling, in hopes that he would dodge the security camera by shimmying over them.

He thought he'd been doing pretty well until he reached the kitchen. As he jumped down from the ceiling, he spotted none other than Tony, heating up some milk in a sauce pan on the stove.

Peter flushed nervously. He hadn't really talked to Tony much after he hit him over the head with a remote control. Luckily, Tony hadn't been injured much; he just got an enormous bump on the top of his head. As far as Peter could tell, the bump was mostly gone.

Peter wanted to retreat, but Tony had turned around and was staring at him. He hand was on a spoon, which he was stirring the milk with.

"Hot chocolate?" Tony asked cheerfully, speaking a little too loud for Peter's taste.

"Uh, won't Rhodey hear you?"

"Yeah, probably."

Tony rummaged in a cabinet next to the stove, and pulled out a box of chocolate powder. He dumped half of the container in the sizzling milk, and continued stirring.

"I—I'm sorry about the—"

"I shouldn't have made you watch the damn TV show so don't blame yourself."

Tony gestured to one of the bar stools on the island. Peter sat down, and continued to watch Tony make the hot chocolate.

"I didn't know you made hot chocolate," Peter said awkwardly.

"Well, my Dad used to make it for me when he wasn't busy with all his science stuff."

He grabbed two mugs out of the dishwasher.

"And he taught me how do make it so that when he was gone, I could remember him by it. Grab the marshmallows will you?"

Peter hesitated at first. Tony acted all fatherly before, but usually popped out of it a couple of hours later. He wasn't in the mood to deal with a finicky Tony again, but if he didn't, he might lose a chance on making their bond permanent.

He walked across the kitchen to the pantry, and grabbed a bag of mini marshmallows from it. He tossed it to Tony, who caught it quickly.

"You're not the only person with epic reflexes!" he said jokingly.

Peter smiled.

Tony threw a couple of marshmallows into a mug of the steaming beverage and handed it to Peter, who took it gratefully.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Want something to eat? I got white chocolate covered pretzels!"

"That sound great!"

Tony grabbed the bag, which had been sitting on the counter, and handed it to Peter. He then sat on a bar stool across from Peter, and sipped out of his drink.

"Mmmphhh, it's hot!"

Peter chuckled.

"So, excited about the press conference, Peter?"

"If someone asks who my secret identity is again I'm gonna scream, but other than that, I'm good."

"Wearing a mask doesn't go against the Accords. At least it doesn't right now. Till then, you should be okay."

He took another sip.

"How are the pretzels?"

"Great!"

The sat silently, sipping on their drinks and munching on their pretzels.

Peter was surprised at how at peace he felt. Sometimes, he'd just sit quietly with his Uncle Ben, eating or just looking across the room. He always felt at home when doing that, mainly because it made him think that they could become closer without using words. It was a quiet, simple understanding that two guys could have together. When spending time with Mary Jane, he's constantly have to affirm her, saying that he loved her and that she was beautiful. Of course, he didn't mind telling Mary Jane stuff like that, but sometimes, to him, silence is the strongest form of communication.

For a second, he felt that plain type of bonding going on, that transfer of trust with Tony.

Peter smiled.

'What're you smiling about?"

"Uh, nothing."

Yeah, right!"

Tony laughed, and ran his fingers through his hair, winching a little when he made contact with the bruise.

"I think you'll crush this upcoming conference, Peter."

"Yeah?"

"Hopefully you won't have tons of girls chasing you off the stage."

"Who me?"

"Yeah, most people have concluded that you're a teenage boy based on your size and your voice."

"Holy crap."

"Don't like to me, Peter. Surely you've googled yourself at some point to see what they're saying."

"Hahahaha . . . well—uh—maybe a couple of times. Do you think people suspect it's me because—"

"I SUSPECT YOU"LL GET YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU!" a voice boomed from overhead.

"Dear god! Rhodey's caught us!" Tony exclaimed, slamming his empty mug down onto the island.

"DROP THE PRETZELS AND FOR GOD'S SAKE, GO TO SLEEP!"

Both Peter and Tony burst out laughing. They could hear Rhodey sigh over the intercom, which made them laugh even harder.

Peter grabbed the bag of pretzels, and headed towards the door.

"Goodnight, Tony."

Ditto."

As Peter walked down the hall way, eating the remaining pretzels from the bag, he prayed that Rhodey wouldn't be too mad at him in the morning. He also hoped that whatever went on with Tony down there was going to stick because he liked it . . . he wanted to be friends with the man behind the iron suit.

When Peter flopped down into bed, he stared at the ceiling, and whispered a silent prayer He didn't know if God was real, but he sure as hell hoped he was listening because only God could keep Rhodey from kicking his ass tomorrow.

Special thanks to Jesuslovesmarina!