I don't even know how this idea started, except it was on The Iron Dad: Readers and Writers server, and weird ideas were being flung around. This took me two days longer than I hope, because real life, and it's late, and I'm too tired to go back and see everyone who was involved (But you know who you are, haha!). Or to ask anyone else to read it over before I just throw it out to the void. :) It's almost a little crackfic-ish, but I'm no good at those, so not really. Hopefully it makes you smile!

Tony Stark stood, blackened and disgruntled, in the modest living room, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and clutching his two favorite pillows. He eyed the big fluffy couch, and the twin-sized air mattress his head of security was kneeling next to, fiddling with the valves.

"Tell me again why we aren't staying in a hotel?" His voice sounded pained, even to him.

"Because, Mr. Stark," a voice said brightly behind him, "they're not sure how serious the threat is, and because of the attack on the Tower today, they need 24 hours to re-establish the security and check everything out, remember? Happy's place is our safest option, at least for tonight."

Peter stepped in next to him, an excited smile on his face. "At least May's already working an overnight, cause I don't know where we'd put her. I guess the hospital's pretty safe? But this—it'll be like a sleepover!"

"Yay," Tony said dryly, not quite as amused as usual at the kid's rambling.

Happy looked up at him warily. "I already told you, Boss, you can have my room. We'll stick the kid on the air mattress, and I'll sleep on my couch. It's pretty comfy.

"Happy!" Peter said, aghast. "You need your room for your CPAP machine! I'm sure we'll be totally fine out here. It's just one night."

"Yeah. What he said," Tony mumbled without any of the teenager's enthusiasm. But Peter was right. "But I'm not sleeping on a couch. I'll wake up with a crick in my neck. So I guess it's me and the air mattress." He kept his voice light, trying to curb his bad attitude. He was pretty sure a random hotel that no one knew he was staying in was just as safe as Happy's apartment, and he already missed the Four Seasons' king-sized mattress and 600-thread count sheets of its luxury suite. But it was just one night, and it would make Happy feel more secure to have them here. No need to aggravate his friend's cardiogram.

Tony firmly reminded himself of the sleeping conditions in Afghanistan. Pretty sure he could do this.

Never mind. He could not do this. Even though he felt much better, showered and in clean clothes, this had to qualify as torture in at least five countries.

"Happy, how many times have you seen this show?" Tony whined, flopping his head back dramatically on the couch. Downton Abbey droned from the TV.

"Mmm, this is the extended version, and he said it has seven extra minutes in this episode that he hasn't seen yet," Peter reminded him, a twinkle in his eye, though his voice was even. The kid wasn't that into it, either, but he was obviously a more polite houseguest than Tony.

"Shh, this part is new!" Happy said from the other side of Peter.

Tony had never wished so badly for a laptop or a tablet, but Happy had insisted that they leave everything behind for fingerprints and technical analysis after the small explosive devices had slipped through their screening process. Tony was pretty sure they already had it under control, but Happy was paranoid, and so Tony suffered, bored out of his skull. It really was his own fault for letting his friend guilt him into complying. He looked longingly at his phone, which was needlessly charging for an hour or two in the kitchen. Mostly, Happy would be offended if he was on his phone the whole time instead of paying attention to his friend's favorite show. He was going to die from boredom right here on this couch.

Finally he started making quiet bets with the kid on what was going to happen next in the show, from the color of horse they'd see next, to which servant was in on it. By the time the episode was finally over, Tony had managed to entertain himself, plus Peter owed him $8.25.

Happy stood up and stretched. He looked down at Tony and Peter awkwardly. "So, if you're hungry when you get up, there's oatmeal and cereal in the kitchen." He shifted his weight back on his heels and looked at the security cameras by the door and the window, as if double checking that they were there. "I'll probably be back at the Tower before you wake up, because I'm just sleeping before I do the final inspection tomorrow morning. There's more blankets in this box if you need them." Tony and Peter just looked at Happy.

"Okay then, goodnight," he said gruffly. "Don't wake me up or blow anything up, please. Anything else, that is."

"Happy, that feels targeted. Should I be offended?" Peter turned to Tony with wide eyes as he asked the question. Tony couldn't help but grin a little bit at the kid's face, and he shrugged. The two of them did have a bit of a reputation.

"I definitely had nothing to do with the explosions today," Peter insisted.

"Kid, just… go to sleep, okay?" Happy said in exasperation before turning and shutting himself in his room.

Twenty minutes later, Tony was staring blankly at the ceiling from his position on the full-sized blow up mattress. What did 'full' even mean? There was absolutely not room for another person on this thing. There wasn't even room for two full-grown people on an actual 'full' mattress. Not that Tony could remember the last time he'd actually seen a full-sized bed. Maybe when he was a kid, that's the size his bed had been. It definitely hadn't been a twin, because—

"Mr. Stark? Did you hear that?" Peter interrupted his mind's slow unwinding.

"Hmm?"

"It sounded like… I don't know, a scratching? Maybe behind the entertainment center? In the walls?"

"Pete, I didn't hear anything. But that doesn't mean anything, since you can hear twelve times better than I can…"

"There's definitely something in there, Mr. Stark," Peter said nervously.

Tony hated to be short with the boy, but it was hard to be patient when he was exhausted and camped out on a squeaky, and possibly deflating air mattress. He swore it had been firmer when he'd first laid down.

"But what if they come out?" Peter asked, a bit of a whine in his voice.

"Peter. I'm constantly yelling at you to not throw yourself at villains and into situations that are obviously too dangerous for you, but you're scared of a couple of cute little mice? Didn't you ever read The Mouse and the Motorcycle ?"

Peter made a scoffing noise. "I'm not scared, it's just weird being able to hear them like that."

"Haven't you ever heard them before?"

"I guess our apartment doesn't have mice. And probably not the Tower either?"

"As if."

Peter sighed deeply.

Tony sighed, for a different reason. "Just try to sleep, kid. I'm sure the mice don't come out of the walls."

"Kay."

The "mattress" was definitely losing air. Tony really hoped he was imagining it. Maybe he could fall asleep before his butt hit the floor.

"Mmmppphh!"

Well, his butt was on the floor, but that was the least of his problems, since a fairly solid spider-kid had just landed right on top of him.

"What the h—"

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark, I'm so sorry!" Peter's explanation came out rapid-fire as he was trying to roll off of Tony, and it took a minute before the older man's sleep-addled brain could make sense of it.

"-and then I was kinda sleeping, but kinda not, and I swear something touched my arm, and I was kinda dreaming, but not really asleep, and there was a mouse that was as big as Mrs. Lieberman's pomeranian! It was so real, and I thought it was gonna eat me, and I just kinda freaked out and threw myself away from it, and I guess I fell off, because now… I'm down here. Mr. Stark, what happened to your bed? Am I still dreaming? Did it disappear? Crap, is that huge mouse still here?"

"Peter, stop. Just…shhh!" Tony said, touching his hand to an approximation of where Peter's mouth was. He hit hair instead, and reflexively ruffled it lightly, trying to calm the boy's intensity. He dragged himself up just enough to reach his phone and engage the light.

"Do you see any giant mice?"

"No, sir."

"How about pomeranians?" he teased. Peter gave him a withering glare. The poor kid looked so confused, and his hair was sticking up every which way (pretty adorably).

Tony squinted at his screen. It was 1:55 a.m. He sighed.

"What happened to your mattress?" Peter asked again.

"It must have a slow leak. I could air it up again, but what's the point?" Tony said, resigned to the fact that he was probably done sleeping for the night.

"Why don't you take the couch now? I'm good on the floor."

"Nah. I'll just get up and read or something."

"No, Mr. Stark, seriously! Here, I'll just plug it in real quick," Peter said, scrambling to his feet and re-engaging the inflating function of the air mattress.

Tony quickly found he wasn't centered on the mattress because as it inflated rapidly, he was unceremoniously dumped off the side. He squawked, and Peter hurried to help him up, biting his bottom lip in consternation.

"Sorry!"

Tony leaned down to retrieve his phone.

"Seriously, I'll take the mattress," Peter insisted. "I'll probably be asleep before it's out of air. The couch is super comfy, I swear!"

The bedroom door opened, and Happy stood in the doorway, his robe billowy from the sudden stop.

"What is going on in here?" Tony noticed his head of security was bleary-eyed but also heavily armed.

"False alarm, Hap. Just a mattress malfunction. Go back to bed." Tony said soothingly. No one needed trigger-Happy in the middle of the night.

Happy turned, grumbling about idiots, and what was he thinking, and very-nearly-slammed the door.

Peter was on the ground, wide-eyed, and a little frozen. Tony grabbed his pillows and plopped them up on the couch. Which, with the back support pillows removed, was probably almost as wide as a twin, and he found it more comfortable than expected. Maybe he'd just sleep a few hours, then he'd get up and coax Peter back up onto it. He was sure the mattress would be flat again by then. He climbed up onto the couch, so as not to step on the air mattress, and got settled.

"Mr. Stark," a whisper came just then.

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure one of the mice is here in the room."

"How in the world can you tell?" He tried not to let his annoyance bleed into his voice.

"It's just… closer. Not muffled by the wall. If… if the mattress sinks down on the floor, what if it comes over here?"

"Kid, what is this fear of mice? They should be more scared of you than you are of them!" Tony said tiredly, tossing and turning a bit, trying to get comfy. Do you want to switch me back?"

"Uh, I think I saw a show once when I was a kid, where rats came in and I guess they were hungry, because—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Do you feel like your mattress is deflating?"

"Not really, but what if it does?"

"Tell you what. If it does, wake me up and we'll go from there. Okay?"

"Kay."

Tony must have been more tired than he thought, because the next thing he knew, strong sunlight was streaming in the windows. He started to move his arm, but found it was effectively pinned to his side by a sweatshirt-clad arm, which was wrapped around him. He had zero memory of anything after 2:30 a.m., but apparently Peter's mattress had deflated. Why hadn't the kid just woken him, instead of trying to share the couch? He managed to crane his neck to look at the floor, but was surprised to find the mattress still looking mostly bed-like.

"Peter?" He hated to wake the kid, but his left arm felt like it was completely asleep. And he had no idea what time it was.

"Hmm?" Peter asked, his voice muffled by Tony's blanket between them.

"When did you come up here?"

"Dunno. When the mice armies were having a battle, and I di'n't wanna get caught in the crossfire. Was scary."

"Okay, then. Did we win?" Tony asked in amusement, his free hand cupping the back of the kid's head for a moment.

Peter made a confused sound. "'M not a mouse; I wasn' on either side." Then all of a sudden his body tensed, and he pulled his head back so he could see who he was snuggled against. Instantly he startled and fell off the couch, thankfully onto the accursed air mattress, which still had plenty of air.

"Mr. Stark, I am so sorry! I have no idea when I did that, or why, or—"

"Easy, Underoos. No harm, no foul. Sounds like you were having a nightmare about mice or something."

"What? Really? What'd I say?" he asked incredulously.

"Doesn't matter. Why don't you get cleaned up, and I'll make some pancakes?"

"Don't you need to get back to the Tower?"

"Eh. At some point. I'm hungry. I don't have to ask if you are."

Peter finally smiled. "Always." Then as he stood up and faced towards the bathroom, he said tentatively, "Hey, Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, bud?" Tony had gotten up and was shaking feeling back into his arm on his way into Happy's kitchen.

"D'ya think you can maybe not tell anyone about that?" Peter asked sheepishly.

"No problem," Tony answered absentmindedly. It wasn't like they hadn't accidentally slept on the (admittedly larger) couches in the Penthouse during a few movie nights. It really wasn't a big deal, though Peter seemed a little embarrassed about it. Maybe because he'd been so terrified of a few partying mice.

However, just a few moments later, he heard Peter from the bathroom saying, "Are you kidding me?" and Tony tilted his head curiously. He heard his phone ding somewhere over by the couch, and went to retrieve it.

Oh! Oh. Tony tried really hard not to start laughing, but he just couldn't help it. So much for keeping it between them. They'd forgotten an important player.

There was a group message from Happy to him, Peter, May, Rhodey, Vision, Pepper, and the kid's friends, Ned and Michelle. Happy communicated with the other teenagers fairly frequently these days because Peter was prone to misplacing his phone, or misplacing himself occasionally.

There was a well-framed picture of Peter snuggled up against him, curly head pressed up under his chin, both his arms pulled to his chest at that point, and Tony's arm anchoring him so he didn't fall off. Both of their mouths were open (always attractive) while they slept. Happy must have snapped it when he left early that morning, and had sent it about fifteen minutes ago.

Looks like a rough night is all Happy had said, but the "loves" and "likes" and laughing emojis and "awwwww!'s had been rolling in.

Peter emerged from the bathroom, dragging his feet dramatically. "What'd I ever do to him , Mr. Stark?"

Tony grinned as he finished mixing the ingredients together and went to test the temperature of the griddle.

"Oh, I'm sure he's got a long list of grievances against both of us. Probably made his day actually; we can count it as a service.

"I'm never staying here again," Peter moaned as he laid his head on his arms on the counter.

"That makes two of us, kid. I don't care if they clear the Tower today or not, or where Happy thinks we're safest. There's a real bed with my name on it tonight."

"Yeah. Hopefully somewhere with no mice," Peter said quietly, ducking his head.

"That is an absolute must," Tony said, reaching across to swipe a hand across the kid's hair, reassuring him that they were fine.

Tony didn't have any actual kids, but suddenly he felt a glimmer of camaraderie with all the parents he'd known who'd complained about being kept up half the night with theirs. Kids were definitely a lot of trouble. Absolutely worth it, though.