I won't let you give up

Ch 8

"Shhh. Don't wake them up."

"C'mon Nat."

"No. Tony hasn't slept well in days. Let him have this."

Peter tried to ignore the whispering, feeling more content than he had in years, with arms around him.

He cracked his eyes open, not at all surprised when his gaze landed on Natasha and Clint watching him.

The redhead's eyes were warm, and her gaze soft.

Clint simply nodded to him, lips twitching up in a half smile.

Then Peter remembered where he was.

What had happened.

Moving as little as possible, he looked up, lips lifting in a slight smile.

Tony looked peaceful.

More so than Peter had ever seen him look.

His head was leaned back against the wall, with his hand on Peter's head, and his other arm acting as a pillow for the teen.

Peter was curled up, back against the wall, head resting on Tony's lap and arm.

Sunlight streamed through small cracks in the walls, illuminating the wooden floor.

Dust motes glittered in the warm beams, filling the room with an airy feel.

Peter closed his eyes.

For the first time in years he felt safe.

Secure.

When he opened his eyes again, Tony was awake.

The older man looked down when he shifted, wearing a soft smile. "Hey bud. Sleep well?"

Peter lifted his arm, letting it flop over his face. "Nnn."

A quiet laugh. "Fair enough."

The teen peered out from under his hand, eyes worried. "Did you?"

A brief flash of understanding passed through their gazes, and Tony nodded once.

Peter rolled over, burying his face in Tony's stomach. "Why can't sleeping be the only mode of living?"

Tony huffed in amusement. "Because of people like you who abuse the power of sleep."

"Rise and shine." A bag hurtled into the teen's stomach, sending him into a ball.

"Ow! What the flip-?"

Clint chortled as he bounded away, laughter trailing over his shoulders. "We're going to scout out the town, so you two better not be dead when we get back!"

He deigned not to reply, seeing as the man couldn't hear him anyways. "Is he always like that?"

"Oh yeah." Tony settled back against the wall, stretching his working leg out in front of him. "Idiots, the lot of them."

It hadn't been even half an hour before he was bored out of his mind.

Tony was fiddling with some small pieces of metal, gaze unfocused.

"Hey. Hey Tony." The teen flopped backwards, using Tony's arms as a pillow. "Tony. I'm bored."

A hint of laughter threaded through the older man's voice. "Then sleep."

"Can't. I need to stay awake in case something happens. Like the zombie people finding a way in. I'm too wound up."

"You're a brat is what you are." The words were said teasingly, as Tony rested his hand over Peter's eyes. "What about if I told you a story? Does that work on teenagers?"

The teen hummed. "Maybe if it's actually a good one."

"How very dare you." Tony's hand flicked his nose. "I am the bestest storyteller there is."

"That's not a word, Tony."

"Details."

Peter twisted himself around until his face was pressed into Tony's stomach, letting out a breath. "Just tell me a story. Please."

"Okay, Pete."

He thinks for a moment, then rests his hand on Peter's head. "What if in another universe, we were superheroes?"

The teen huffs quietly. "That's a really cliche way to start a story."

"Hear me out. What if... Steve was a war hero? Like the kind that everyone looks up to, and has posters of, and has a blinding smile... you know the type. Super strength. Fast healing. Clint would be... something to do with arrows, because that's his weapon of choice."

"Hawkeye," Peter suggests, grinning lazily. "Cause he can see stuff far away."

The corner of Tony's mouth lifted. "Yeah. Tasha would be some type of spy/assassin. She's got that stare that makes you want to spill all your secrets. Bruce..."

He takes several seconds to think on it, then smirks. "Bruce's superpower would be something completely opposite to his personality. He's quiet, so it would be loud. He's small, so it would be big. He's mild mannered, it would be angry."

Peter shook his head, but was grinning. "What about me and you?"

"You'd be something with a gimmick."

The teen frowned annoyedly. "Why?"

"I don't know. Something with bright colors. Blue... red maybe. Ooh. Spiderman."

Peter's face turned red, and he smacked Tony's hand away from where it was poking lightly at his side. "May told you about that?"

Tony smirked. "Radioactive spider? Sticky hands? Strength?"

"Tony!" he squeaked. "I was six when I came up with that costume! Six!"

The older man's smirk widened. "But Spider Man is such a superhero-y name!"

"Shut up," he mumbled, flopping back down. "Just for that, your suit would have to be something obnoxious. Red and gold. Big. Clunky. Iron Man."

"Nope. Nuh-uh. No way."

"Yup. Yes way. If I have to have a ridiculous superhero persona, then so do you."

"Alright. Okay, fine. Spiderling."

"Shut up."