Chapter Text
Peter, 2007
Peter Parker had always had a soulmate.
For as long as he could remember, his family had consisted of his Aunt May, his Uncle Ben, and Tony, the man whose handwriting found a home on Peter’s skin.
Tony wasn’t his family in the same way May and Ben were his family. He wasn’t even family like May’s brother and sister, who only came to visit once a year. Peter had never met Tony, not even once, but Ben said Tony was family because he was the only person in the whole world who was always with him no matter what.
Peter knew almost everything about Tony. He knew he liked to cook Italian food because it reminded him of his mom. He knew he liked to build machines so complicated Peter didn’t even understand their names. He knew he had a friend called Pepper who he always described as very pretty, but when Peter had asked if they were married Tony had got really embarrassed and said no.
But at the same time, Peter didn’t know a lot of basic things about Tony. He didn’t know what Tony’s last name was or where he lived or how old he was. He must be old, because he had a job and he often talked about grown-up things Peter didn’t understand. How old, however, Peter just didn’t know. The soulmate magic wouldn’t let him.
He didn’t even know what Tony looked like.
It didn’t matter, Peter decided. Who cared how old Tony was? Or what he looked like? Peter knew people tried to find out stuff like that because it helped you find your soulmate, but Peter wasn’t really in a rush to find Tony just yet. No-one Peter’s age had found their soulmates already.
Finding your soulmate was an old person thing. Peter would think about finding Tony once he was old. Really old. Like, fourteen. Maybe even fifteen.
For now, Peter was just happy to have Tony’s words on his skin, to have the man always there and available to talk to whenever Peter needed him. They were always talking to each other. Barely a few hours ever went by without a message from Tony appearing on Peter’s arm.
In fact, Peter was in trouble at school for how often he spoke to Tony. He wasn’t allowed to bring pens to class, not even for coloring in, because he was on the List of Shame. That wasn’t the official name. That was just what Ben had called it before May had smacked his arm and said, “We’re trying to discipline Peter. Don’t give the list a funny name!”
He just couldn’t help it. He loved talking to Tony, and he needed to tell Tony about everything!
Sometimes when Peter told Ben or May about something, they were busy and didn’t listen or just didn’t really seem very interested. But Tony was always interested. He talked to Peter like an adult, too, and it made Peter feel important.
Plus, Tony knew so much. About everything. Especially science. Peter could ask him anything and he always knew the answer.
In short, Tony was Peter’s absolute favorite person to talk to, and the slight tickle as Tony’s scratchy, hard-to-read handwriting sank into his skin was the best feeling ever. Peter loved Tony, and Tony loved him, and that love was forever spelled out in black and white on Peter’s arms.
Peter couldn’t imagine his life without Tony’s ramblings on his skin.
Tony, 2010
The icy air brought shivers to Tony’s skin as he huddled closer to the smoldering flames of their tiny forge. Wordlessly, Yinsen offered Tony a bowl of the disgusting slop they called food. Tony eyed it, nausea roiling in his stomach. He hadn’t yet grown accustomed to the taste of that stuff, to the way the food sat heavily on the fear and guilt and panic festering in his stomach. But Yinsen, who had, insisted it was better to eat.
Tony accepted the bowl with a weak attempt at a smile. He didn’t want to eat. All he wanted to do was rip that fucking car battery out of his chest and scream.
He couldn’t adjust to the inherent wrongness of his being here, to the constant tension in his muscles that wouldn’t let him relax for as long as he continued to be held captive—however long that might be. He was exhausted from the mental effort it took not to slip into despair. Insomnia haunted his night times, silent voices howling inside his mind that he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be here.
Even the air in the cave felt wrong. It was cold, and damp, and smelled of dirt and stone. He was slowly suffocating, and the heavy atmosphere didn’t allow him to forget for even one brief moment that he was trapped thousands of miles away from home.
He trusted that the United States military was looking for him. He didn’t doubt for one second that, on the other side of the world, the government was in shambles, panicking as they tried to handle the news that Tony Stark had been kidnapped by terrorists. The image might even have been funny if Tony weren’t suffering.
He was even willing to entertain the idea that somehow, somewhere, US intelligence would succeed at locating him.
He did not, however, trust that they would be able to rescue him.
Not in a terrorist camp, deep behind enemy lines. He wouldn’t have recommended rescuing him.
In these moments of despair, it was Yinsen’s calm demeanor that kept Tony tethered.
Yinsen had been here for longer than Tony, had had more time to adjust. It was his quiet acceptance of his fate and his matter-of-fact way of approaching their hellish conditions that helped Tony remain sane.
As Tony forced himself to swallow a mouthful of their disgusting breakfast, his arm tickled.
The lingering aftertaste of overcooked beans lost all flavor in his mouth.
As subtly as possible, Tony glanced over his shoulder where a camera blinked away in the darkness, then readjusted his position to keep his arm hidden. He set his bowl down with a glance in Yinsen’s direction and yanked his sleeve up as far as it would go.
Hey, Tony! Can you talk yet? I really wanna tell you about what me and Ben did the other day!
Shit. Shit. As Tony’s life fell to pieces around him, not even Peter could quite bring him joy anymore. Every sad, scrawled message in Pete’s youthful handwriting was like a stone trapped in the mechanics of Tony’s mind, and he wasn’t sure how long it was before he buckled and broke under the pressure.
The tickling of Peter’s writing on his skin should be the highlight of his day, but as the kid’s messages slowly grew more and more upset the longer Tony didn’t respond, Tony had learned to dread the sensation.
His captors had provided him with only thin, brittle sticks of charcoal to write up his plans with. Which, despite Tony’s best efforts, didn’t sink in. As Yinsen had slept the first night after Tony had agreed to build the Jericho, Tony had sat awake, desperately dragging the charcoal across his skin, leaving only chalky black smudges in his wake.
“So,” said Yinsen, jerking Tony out of his thoughts. “Tony Stark does have a soulmate.”
As usual, Yinsen’s tone was soft, betraying no curiosity or surprise. Tony yanked his sleeve back over the writing. He didn’t want his captors seeing it. They had no right to Peter, not even to his words. Peter was safe, a constant reminder of home that Tony’s captors couldn’t take away from him.
Tony sniffed. “I wouldn’t have predicted it, either.”
He wanted to shut up, then—not because he didn’t trust Yinsen, but because he didn’t trust the walls around him, the camera in the corner, the peephole in their cell door—but he couldn’t. Maybe Peter could bring his warmth even to a freezing cave in Afghanistan.
“He’s—he’s good. Just a kid, but he’s—he’s already a better person than half of us could ever hope to be. Better than I’ll ever be, that’s for sure.” Tony brushed his thumb over the fabric of his sleeve, above the ink hidden there. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
Didn’t deserve to be left, abandoned, his soulmate gone without even a word of goodbye.
Yinsen’s eyes shone in the firelight. “No-one deserves that.”
Tony briefly glanced down at Yinsen’s arms, then quickly away. Was someone writing to him, too, wishing him home? Had he been pulling up his sleeves while Tony’s back was turned?
As the weeks wore on, Peter’s messages grew more and more forlorn, and further and further apart.
I’m sorry, Tony.
Did I make you angry? :(
I’m sorry.
When can we talk again?
I hope you’re okay.
I miss you.
:(
With each message, Tony grew more determined that he would find a way out of this godforsaken cave.
And when finally, finally, Tony stepped foot on American soil once again, with Yinsen left thousands of miles away and at last with his family, he had little patience for the various people trying to get him strapped down on a stretcher.
“I don’t have to do anything. I’ve been in captivity for three months. There are three things I want to do. I want an American cheeseburger, and the second—is not what you think—I want you to call for a press conference. And third, Miss Potts, Hogan, if either of you have a pen on you, I will double both your salaries.”
Peter, 2010
An elbow dug into Peter’s side, startling him out of a daydream. He blinked away his worries and turned to Ned, who raised an eyebrow and nodded his head toward the front of the classroom. There, Mrs. Perry stood with her hands on her hips.
“Back with us, Peter?”
Heat rose to Peter’s cheeks and he glanced up at the board, which had moved on so much from when he had last been paying attention that it was incomprehensible.
“Uh—yes, Mrs. Perry.”
She nodded, looking rather unconvinced, but carried on with the lesson anyways. Peter glanced at Ned, who shot him a reassuring, if slightly worried, smile. Peter sighed and scooted closer to Ned’s desk so he could copy his answers.
Peter felt kinda bad. Ned was super understanding, but Peter couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about being a bad friend over the last few weeks. He knew he’d been kind of distant, and he’d turned down the last couple times Ned had invited him over to his house to work on a Lego set. Peter was just so worried about Tony. It had been almost three months, and… nothing.
Trying to ignore his worries, Peter drew himself to sit up straight and focused on trying to understand what Mrs. Perry was talking about.
He lasted about fifteen minutes before he was rapidly snapped back to his real world by a tickling on the inside of his left wrist.
His—his wrist had just tickled—that meant—
Peter gasped and slapped a hand over his mouth. Immediately, the room stilled as everyone turned to look at him.
Mrs. Perry looked even less impressed than before. “Everything alright, Peter?”
Peter glanced at Ned.
“I—uh, please may I go to the bathroom?”
Reluctantly, Mrs. Perry nodded her permission.
Peter threw himself to his feet, swiping a felt tip from his desk, and speed-walked to the door as quickly as he could. He’d get in trouble if he ran, and Peter needed to get to the bathroom where he could write in peace now.
“Yo, I think Parker’s got diarrhea.”
Mrs. Perry’s attention snapped back to the rest of the classroom. “Flash. Quiet.”
Peter was too happy to care about Flash’s teasing right now. Once he reached the nearest bathroom, he locked himself in the furthest stall and yanked up his jacket sleeve with a smile already splitting his face.
Hey, kid. Still remember me?
Peter squealed, bursting into happy giggles. He pulled the lid off his felt tip and didn’t hesitate even for a minute before he brought the nib to his skin.
Tony!!!! I missed you! Where did you go? Were you alright????
It took Tony a long moment to respond, but Peter didn’t mind. He’d never mind waiting for Tony.
I’m sorry, Pete. I was somewhere I really didn’t want to be, and there was no way for me to write to you there. But I’m home now, so what does matter is that I really, really owe you an apology.
Tony, 2013
Tony still wasn’t quite used to the fact that Peter, his soulmate, was right there next to him, that holy shit, this was the faceless kid he’d been speaking to for years. This was real. He genuinely had a soulmate. Not that Peter hadn’t felt real these last few years, but going from the kid’s handwriting on his skin to his kid actually here, in person, and Tony could hug him if he wanted—that was insane.
The kid, however, had already moved on to more pressing matters.
“I’m gonna be in so much trouble,” Peter whispered as he pulled his keys out his front pocket. “I wasn’t kidding about skipping band practice to go see you. And they’re both home!”
“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” said Tony, glancing around the dark, narrow corridor. “I’m a professional at talking my way out of trouble.”
Peter smiled weakly but didn’t look particularly reassured. Gingerly, like he was afraid a bomb might go off at any moment, he turned the key in the lock and eased his way into the apartment, holding the door behind him for Tony.
The apartment beyond was small, but homey and pleasantly decorated. Tony didn’t have much time to enjoy the ambiance, however, before a bedroom door slammed open and a surprisingly attractive woman stormed out, her eyes red and her face stern.
“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped. “You can’t do this to me, Peter! You were meant to be home an hour ago, and then I call Ned and he tells me you never turned up for band practice and nobody has any idea where you are—”
Her voice trailed off as she finally noticed Tony. Mouth dropping open, she glanced at Peter, then back at Tony.
“Peter…?”
Peter looked back at Tony, a nervous crease between his eyebrows like he wasn’t quite sure how to explain Tony’s presence.
“May, um, I’m really sorry I skipped band practice, but… um, this is… Tony.”
May—the famous Aunt May Tony had been hearing about for years—stared at him, her mouth still hanging open.
“Tony,” she repeated, eyes boring into Tony’s own. “As in… as in Tony?”
“As in Tony,” said Peter, rubbing an awkward hand against the inside of his wrist. He laughed nervously, none of them quite sure what to say. “Um, who’d have thought, huh?”
May shot Peter a look as if Peter had any control over who his soulmate was and had deliberately chosen the absolute worst person in the world to have his soul forever tied to. In fact, thinking about it, hadn’t Peter told him at some point that his aunt wasn’t much of a fan of Tony Stark…?
Unable to bear the uncomfortable atmosphere, Tony forced himself to smile his winning smile—Pepper always said it made him look sleazy, but the vast majority of the rest of the world considered it charming—and held out a hand.
“Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure.”
May shook his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, Tony Stark. I gathered.”
Peter sidled closer to Tony. “C’mon, May. Let’s be nice to my soulmate.”
A male voice called from deeper into the apartment. “May? Is it Peter?”
“Ben,” May said, her voice high and thin. “I—I think you need to come here.”
Tony glanced around the apartment, feeling wholly unwelcome. He made eye contact with Peter; Peter raised his eyebrows apologetically.
A man appeared—Ben, Tony presumed. He bore a striking resemblance to Peter, but older and without that spark of innocence and optimism that had made Peter seem familiar the moment Tony had first laid eyes on him.
Ben immediately noticed Tony. He faltered.
“I—you’re Tony Sta—” He cut himself off and his eyes widened, mouth curling up in excitement. “Oh. Oh! Tony! Tony, right?” Ben glanced at Peter, who grinned. “Shit!” He then glanced at May, who looked slightly hysterical. “Oh—shit.”
Well, at least this wasn’t the least welcome Tony had ever felt in his life.
Peter, 2013
This was a lot. Like, a lot a lot.
“Young Peter!”
Thor Odinson had just grabbed Peter’s hand. Like, Thor, Prince of Thunder, Heir to the Asgardian throne, a literal God. That Thor. And now said God was shaking Peter’s hand with surprising gentleness.
“What a fortunate day this is. I wish you many years of happiness, and that the sun may shine brightly upon you and Stark.”
He was so tall.
“Um!” Peter squeaked, staring mesmerized into Thor’s ocean blue eyes. “Thank you! It’s—it’s really nice to meet you!”
Peter glanced Tony’s way—Tony was watching Peter meeting the rest of the Avengers with an amused smile—and then looked over to where May and Ben were busy shaking hands with Captain America and Black Widow, respectively. May glanced up; Peter nodded in Thor’s direction and made a face as if to say can you believe this?! May made a similar face right back.
A scoff from Hawkeye’s direction. “The rest of us didn’t get a reaction like that! Your soulmate’s already picking favorites, Stark. He’s going to tear the team apart.”
Tony patted Peter’s shoulder. “Not even I got a reaction like that. Peter’s just a fickle man and he doesn’t care if we know who his favorite Avenger is.”
“I don’t—that’s not—” Peter was definitely too overwhelmed to be keeping up with a conversation right now.
Thankfully, Peter was saved from having to defend himself by a click of stilettos and a perfectly manicured hand held out in his direction.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Peter. Call me Pepper,” said Ms. Potts, shaking Peter’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Tony over the years.”
“Really?” Peter squeaked.
“I might have mentioned you once or twice,” said Tony.
Ms. Potts raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly but didn’t comment.
And—wow. Peter still hadn’t recovered from the fact he’d been writing to Iron Man on his arm all these years. And now it was just sinking in that not only had Iron Man known Peter since he was five, but Pepper Potts had also known Peter since he was five.
Peter barely even remembered being five!
And speaking of—Iron Man had known Peter since he was five. Which was insane!
Peter had been obsessed with Iron Man basically since he’d been a thing. How could he not? Back then, he was nine and obsessed with Batman and Superman comics. Of course it had blown his mind when he’d learned superheroes existed in real life! Peter’s entire class had been obsessed with Iron Man.
That obsession had only increased after the Battle of New York. A team of superheroes had saved New York from aliens! Peter and Ned and the rest of their class had watched from the school library’s window, their mouths hanging open, as aliens had clawed their way out of the sky. They’d barely been able to comprehend what they were seeing.
And then Peter had gone home and told one of said superheroes all about the hell of an afternoon he’d just had.
It was crazy.
Ms. Potts smiled at Peter again, and wow, she was even more stunning in real life. That, and the loving look in her eyes when she looked at Tony, reminded Peter.
He smirked and turned to Tony. “So I guess you finally got around to telling Ms. Potts about how you think she’s really pretty?”
Ms. Potts's eyes lit up in amusement. Tony, on the other hand, blanched like he’d just remembered how well he and Peter already knew each other.
“Alright, let’s wrap it up, people. I’ve just decided I will, in fact, actually not be introducing Peter to any of you.”
Tony, 2013
The coffee machine had just beeped when Tony’s arm tickled. Tony flicked on the light over the stove—it was well into the early hours of the morning, and Tony was trying his best not to wake Pepper and incur her wrath by turning on the overheads—and squinted to read the writing there.
Hey, Tony! I miss you!
Immediately, Tony’s heart softened. Goddammit. How was this kid capable of melting Tony with just a few words? Howard would have hated it; it was Tony’s favorite thing about Peter.
We saw each other a few hours ago, kiddo. Remember? Dinner? Ringing any bells? Did you get drunk on the tiramisu and black out?
When the next message sank into Tony’s arm, he could practically hear Peter’s whine.
Tonyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Tony grabbed his coffee and took a sip as another message appeared.
I knowww but I miss you already. I don’t wanna have to wait until Wednesday to see you again! That’s so long!!!
It was three days, but Tony guessed that must be like a month in twelve-year-old time.
He took another sip of his coffee and brought his pen to his skin, but before he could write anything, another message came through from Peter.
It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?
What is, Pete?
That I miss you already. Like, I didn’t meet you for twelve years and it was fine, I didn’t mind at all, but now that we have met I just wanna be with you all the time.
Oh, this kid.
This kid was far too sweet—and definitely far too good to be associated with Tony. He was surprised how warm it made him feel inside that Peter valued him and his company so much he hated the prospect of just a few days spent apart. He couldn’t quite believe that Peter did feel that way. Not that he thought the kid was lying, it just… seemed improbable.
Once again Tony was struck by how much he absolutely did not deserve Peter, and that the greatest miracle in his life was the universe for some reason deciding that he did.
Well I can strap you onto the back of an Iron Man suit if it makes you feel better, Pete, but I don’t think May would approve.
Another whine.
Tonyyyyyyy.
Tony chuckled.
Okay, they were doing feelings. He could do feelings. He had so many feelings where Peter was concerned, and the vast majority of them were good. The ones that weren’t had nothing to do with Peter and everything to do with Tony.
I know how you feel, Pete. It’s different to normal missing, right?
Yes! Peter responded. It’s like I can actually feel the distance between us.
Another message came through immediately after. Good thing we both live in New York haha, imagine if we were like, on opposite sides of the world.
I guess this is what people mean when they say two halves of a whole. It sure does feel like it, huh?
I’m definitely the better half!
Tony rolled his eyes.
You little brat. We’ll put it to a popular vote. Which, I don’t think I need to tell you, I will win.
Peter was correct, though.
Tony brought the nib to his skin again. I’ll see what we can do about seeing each other before Wednesday. I don’t wanna be seen in Queens too often, though, so we’ll have to see what Happy thinks.
Right. Peter’s disappointment was palpable. Ugh that sucks so much. You’re Iron Man. Can’t you just change your face or something? The government is hiding alien tech from us but I know you know!
Dang it. You’re on to me. Next I’m going to have to pretend like I don’t have access to Area 51.
Omg Tony you DON’T!!
Yeah, I don’t.
Yeah right. Likely story.
There’s nothing I can say now that will convince you I don’t know what’s in Area 51, is there?
Nope!
Okay, well, if I see this in the Daily Bugle tomorrow morning, I’ll know it was you who told.
I’d say I’d never, but I’d do anything for, like, twenty dollars.
I’ll bear that in mind. Tony glanced at the time on the microwave. Doesn’t a certain someone have school tomorrow and should definitely be asleep?
Omg, I can’t believe Iron Man just told me to go to bed already.
That drew a laugh from Tony. He took another sip of his coffee as another message faded onto his arm.
And besides, I’ve talked to Pepper. I’m not the only one who should be in bed right now!
Tony glanced down at his coffee and winced.
Right, letting you and Pepper meet each other was the worst mistake of my life. I knew I should have shut that conversation down sooner. I hope you ended that interaction on good terms because you two are never talking to each other again.
I already have her number!
Tony was busy having a mild heart attack at the knowledge that Pepper and Peter now had the ability to talk to each other—God knows what they could achieve if they put their minds to it—when another message came through.
May just caught me with my light on :( Gonna have to say goodnight now!
Alright, kiddo. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Try not to combust while you’re not able to bask in the glory of my presence.
Yeahhhh I’m sure I’ll be just fine. Good night! Love you! :)
Was this what healthy interpersonal relationships were like?
Love you too, Pete.
Tony grabbed his coffee cup, ready to head back down to the lab. But then a moment later, there was another tickle on the inside of his wrist.
Oh, and go to bed!! :)
Peter, 2014
A pen nib dragging across his skin as he fought against the rope holding him down.
“No! Get—get off me!”
“Shut up, brat.”
Peter was blindfolded; the slap came with no warning. His head jerked to the side. Pain burned across his face, bringing tears to his eyes that he refused to let fall. He wasn’t going to cry—he really, really didn’t want to let these men see him cry—
“Tony!”
His voice cracked. The men laughed.
A crack of duct tape being peeled. Moments later, disembodied hands slapped the tape over Peter’s mouth, silencing his futile begging for them to leave him alone.
“Peter.”
Panic welled up in Peter’s chest, cinching a band around his chest to choke the air from his lungs. He couldn’t move his hands, couldn’t kick his legs, couldn’t see. He couldn’t stop his kidnappers from doing whatever they wanted to him. And now he couldn’t talk, the one final semblance of control he’d had stripped from him without a moment’s notice.
He sucked in a desperate breath through his nose, but the stuffy, humid air around him felt too thin. Peter was suffocating as three bodies crowded around him, holding him down, violating the bond he shared with Tony. It was too hot, and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t—he just wanted to be able to move—
“Peter!”
He couldn’t see what they were writing to Tony, and it brought hot, angry tears to Peter’s eyes. The link Tony and Peter shared was special. It shouldn’t be used like this. Peter hated to imagine what it must be like for Tony to think Peter was writing to him only for him to read—
Peter wanted out. He really, really wanted out. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted Tony. Please, please, Tony, find me—
He also really didn’t want his captors to see him cry, but he couldn’t hold it in. He was scared.
Peter’s resolve broke and he sobbed into the tape gag. The men laughed again, this time more raucously, the sound echoing, growing louder and louder and Peter’s entire body felt alive with fear, with apprehension, with dread as to what these men could do to him—
“Peter!”
Peter plunged into wakefulness like he’d broken through ice; panic drew too thin air into his lungs in short gasps and his limbs flailed as he struggled to make sense of what was happening around him.
Something grabbed at his hands and held them steady. “Hey, hey. Just me. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
Dark shapes and looming figures sharpened and cleared to make sense. It was Tony, leaning worriedly over Peter, the rest of Peter’s bedroom over Tony’s shoulders lit only by the light streaming in through the open door.
The fight drained from Peter’s limbs at the sight of his soulmate. “Tony,” he breathed.
Peter freed his wrists from Tony’s gentle grip and threw his arms around Tony’s neck to drag him down into a hug. He buried his face in Tony’s shirt and sobbed. It was safe to cry now. Tony would never mock him, would only hold him tight and protect him until everything felt right again.
Between sobs and gasping breaths, Tony's signature scent of too-expensive cologne mixed with metal and cheap oil helped ease the tension in Peter’s limbs.
Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, slightly awkwardly given the weird angle, and ran a hand through Peter’s hair in that way he loved.
“It’s me. You’re safe. You’re at the Tower. May and Ben are across the hall. You’re okay. You're okay, sweetheart. It was just a bad dream.”
Peter nodded. He knew that. Of course he knew that. It had been days since his torment had ended. Tony had found him, and he and Steve had rescued him while the rest of the Avengers had dealt with the kidnappers. Peter knew he was safe.
The only problem was that his brain hadn’t quite caught up yet.
It had been several days, but Peter still wasn’t ready to leave the safety of the Tower and move back home. Neither, Peter could tell, was Tony quite ready to let Peter out of his sight for longer than a few hours.
Not when every time Peter shut his eyes, he was transported back there and would wake up soaked in sweat, to either May or Ben or Tony hovering over him.
A slight heat rose to Peter’s cheeks. Peter knew he couldn’t be the only one that was getting tired of the nightmares. He felt like everyone in the Tower was on edge, all because of him.
But Tony kept running a hand through his hair, showing no sign he was fed up with Peter refusing to just get over it already.
Tony spoke softly into Peter’s hair. “What do you think, kiddo? Wanna try and sleep again? Or should we go watch a movie?”
Tony claimed he was fine running on little to no sleep—something Pepper had very reluctantly agreed with but had then immediately insisted that wasn’t an invitation to try—but Peter still felt guilty.
“Let’s… let’s just go to sleep.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Peter never had the nightmares when Tony was in the room. Whenever he forgot he was safe, Tony was always there to remind him.
Wordlessly, Peter shuffled over to make room for Tony to lay down next to him. Tony pulled the covers up over them both and they curled up together, fitting together like two puzzle pieces—like two halves of a whole.
Tony tucked Peter’s head beneath his chin. “I got you, Petey. It’s alright. Just go to sleep.”
Peter breathed in Tony’s scent of cologne and metal and oil and felt the final remnants of tension melt from his limbs.