It Only Takes a Second

- XXV -

"Mister Stark, can I stick to non-stick pans?"

Tony rolled over to see Peter lying on his back, tucked into the sleeping bag and staring at the ceiling.

"Wha-?" Tony grumbled, glancing at the clock on the wall that read 1:42 a.m.

"Also, hypothetically, if Ned sprayed me with a can of Raid, would I die?"

"Pete, go to sleep," Tony groaned, before pausing. "Wait, did Ned spray you with a can of Raid?"

Peter's eyes widened as he whispered, "not yet."

"Okay well I have to add talking to Ned and testing your DNA for effect of Raid on the list of things I need to do," Tony sighed, sitting up.

"Why are you still awake?" He asked, glancing up at Pepper who was asleep, curled up in a chair to their left.

"Couldn't sleep," Peter whispered in response, rolling to his side so he was facing Tony.

"And so you're having an existential crisis instead?" Tony asked, and Peter shrugged.

"Seemed like the best use of my time," he replied. "I was just worrying. My mind is racing and I couldn't make it stop."

Tony leaned his back against the wall with a sigh, and Peter sat up, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap.

"I don't know how I'm going to help him Mister Stark," Peter murmured, his voice soft with worry and fear.

Tony sighed. "If I'm being honest, I don't either. I really don't know how to help him, and I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, but I know that as long as we stick by his side and we're there for him when he needs, no matter how much he insists he doesn't need us, then he will slowly get better."

"Do you ever think he'll be 100% better? Will he ever be able to go back to normal?" Peter asked, and it was at that moment that Tony truly remembered. Peter was only sixteen. Things like this didn't happen to fifteen and sixteen year olds like Harry and Peter, and Peter had been handling the entire situation surprisingly well and with maturity beyond his years. But he was still sixteen and he still had hope that things could go completely back to normal after something like this.

"Pete," Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Harry's normal his entire life has been nothing but pain, from the sounds of it. If we're looking long term, big picture here, yeah, maybe he'll seem better and it'll be like nothing happened some of the time, but his scars and the memories and the nightmares- they'll never truly go away."

"You're right," Peter dropped his head, and Tony stared at the teen with searching eyes.

"Peter, what's going through that brilliant head of yours?"

"I feel selfish," he sniffed. "I just feel like, it's not fair of me to expect him to get better. He's been through so much and here I am saying 'oh when's he going to get better?' but that's not fair to him. I can't expect him to just wake up one day and go, 'oh I'm better now!' That's not realistic, and I feel so guilty and selfish for thinking that way. But the hope is still there, you know? No matter how many times I tell myself it's not going to happen, somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm telling myself that it will."

"Kid, I'd be lying to you if I told you I hadn't had the same thoughts cross my mind. It's a coping mechanism, I suppose. You're not selfish for wanting him to get better, nor have you been selfish at all through everything that's happened. Look at you, you're sleeping on the floor of a hospital room in a sleeping bag. You're here for him, when you very well could have taken Steve and Bucky up on their offer to take you back to the hotel where you would have had a nice, comfortable bed. But you chose to stay. You're not selfish.