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Peter was tired.

The kind of tired that buries itself in your bones, and leaves you heavy, wishing for nothing except sleep. 

Of course, he couldn't do that. He's been up for most of the night, sleeping for about three hours before waking back up, and having nothing to do.

(he didn't want to call Ned or MJ, because they'd just feel sorry for him, and he didn't want that right now. He also couldn't call, because he lost his phone on the way to the hospital, dropping it into the tracks of the subway.)

So here he was, laying on a bed much too big, inside and a room much too empty,  staring at the large light dangling elegantly from the ceiling, and the designs that were so precisely etched into the roof, even though nobody would really pay much mind to it. Except maybe grief ridden teenagers.

The room was familiar to him,  his own things scattered around- Clothes on the floor, the spare computer from his internship on the desk in the corner, papers everywhere. The bed holding his own blankets that he brought from home, to be more comfortable. He knew it, from all the days spent there over the weekends or holidays.

Weekends and holidays he could have spent with May. 

He rubs his eyes, forcing his heavy body to sit up, against its will. He's been in the Stark Tower for about two days, (though it could have been more) and hasn't yet left this room. He's spoken to Tony, eaten the food he's left, and even slept. But he can't bring himself to leave the room, to talk to anyone else. For the fear that if he did, all of this would become more real, and he'd have to face the truth, have people tell him that they are "Sorry for his loss."

And God, he doesn't want that. Because he knows they are sorry, but he doesn't want their pity, he doesn't want them feeling bad. He just wants everything go back to how it was. He wants to wake up in his old bedroom, in his old apartment. To wake up to May playing the radio in the kitchen, making their breakfast. He wants to press a soft and sleepy kiss to her cheek and talk about how they slept.

God what he would give to be able to go back there. 

But because of an angry man with a gun, because the world is cruel and of course May had to be at that shop during that time. Because May's heart is too good, and there was a child there with bright eyes and brown hair. Because she knew what was going to happen if she didn't jump in at that exact moment. Because-

He get's startled away from his thoughts when the door opens, bringing light into his dim room, hurting his eyes and making him jump like a cat. His heart-reate calmed down more when he saw the one and only Anthony Stark enter his room, a box of Pizza in one hand, and a file in the other. 

"Hey, kid. You just wake up?" 

Peter thought about telling him yes, to lie and say he had a great night's sleep. But that'd be a lie, and he doesn't think he's capable of that right now. He shook his head,

 "Nah- I've been up since four." He glanced to the clock on his bedside table. 10:07 am

"Ouch." Tony winced "But... did you sleep good, when you did?" Tony moved to sit on Peter's bed, setting the box of pizza next to him, looking at the kid expectantly. Peter shrugged, crossing his legs and scooting back. "Yeah.. I guess? I didn't dream, or anything. I just was in blackness until I woke up. It was pretty chill." He shrugged again, before looking down at the pizza box.

"What's that? Or- what's in that?"

 Tony smiled evilly, opening the box to reveal a tri-pizza, with Pepperoni, Cheese, and Veggie-  All three of his favorites. Peter smiled a bit. "Thanks, Mr. Stark..." 

The smile fell from his lips, and he felt his throat get dry as tears welled in his eyes. He blinked, trying to make them go away, to make his eyes dry before Mr. Stark noticed. He blinked, hard, before looking up. He smiled tightly as Tony looked at him with a distressed and confused face.

"You are veeery Welcome- Kid.. are you crying over a pizza?" He reached out a hand, touching Peter's shoulder. Peter didn't move away.

He shook his head quickly, wiping his eyes. 

"No, no, Mr. Stark-"


"-Tony, it's over everything. Just, you've done so much for me these past two days, while all I've done is sulk- I don't deserve it. But thank you so, so much." He had tears on his cheeks now, and was working to wipe them off as fast as he could, so wipe away evidence that this is actually affecting him as much as it is. 

That's when the grip on his shoulder became tight, and his other shoulderw was being pulled to face Tony fully.

"Listen to me now, Peter. Listen." Peter winced at the volume, and Tony's tone became softer. 

"Peter, you are so much stronger than I could ever be. And that makes me sad, because you shouldn't have to be strong, you are just a kid, and you deserve to be one. When my parents died-" 

Peter flinched at the word.

"I had nobody, I was on my own. I had to deal with their death like an adult, when I wasn't ready to be one. You deserve better, and I want to give it to you. I want to be someone for you to look up to, I want you to feel safe, Kid. Not to end up like me." He sighed, heavy and deep.

"I just. Want you to be happy, okay? Because you deserve it more than anyone else on this godamn planet. Okay?"

Peter was crying now, quiet, heaving sobs, and Tony pulled him close. He was holding him to his chest, a protective stance over him. His shirt was getting soiled, but it's fine. He could always buy a new one, but he could never get another moment like this.

And, as Peter cried, he realized that he never even brought up the adoption files.

{A/N: Tada, a part two! This one is really wordy, not much dialogue. I don't know why, but my mind doesn't want to think of words. And this one is very angst heavy, because I like projecting onto characters. So, next chapter, should it be more fluffy? Like, comment ideas- I've already got some, but I want to see what Y'all want to see. <3

xx, Kris }}

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