Stark Men Are Made of Iron

So Close

Peter shot up in bed, his shirt damp with sweat and his limbs tangled in his sheets. The nightmares had been getting worse, especially since that... first night. Every time Peter fell asleep, he saw that man. The one he couldn't save, laying in a puddle of blood. It was the one trauma Peter couldn't heal.

The other traumas were easy. For the most part, Peter's wounds healed over night. After the first week of being Spiderman, he'd discovered that a bruise was gone in a few hours, same with scrapes and minor cuts. A broken rib was usually better by the morning after, and concussions were gone by the time Peter was drifting off. The gun shot wound from his first night out healed a little slower, meaning he had to sneak around for a good 3 days before he could wear just a tee-shirt without fear of his dad noticing the tight bandages and thick layer of gauze.

Tony did notice, though. He noticed every time Peter flinched when someone slapped him on the back or when he went whole nights without sleep because of nightmares.

As soon as Peter trudged out of his bed room, his eyes red and puffy from waking up throughout the night from bad dreams, Tony noticed. He was wearing a sweat shirt again, this time to cover a deep stab wound he'd gotten the night before.

"Peter, it's going to be pretty warm today, are you sure you want to wear something that bulky?" Tony had to talk over the sound of sizzling bacon and eggs, a Saturday morning special.

"I like this sweatshirt," Peter said with a shrug. "It's comfy."

Tony hummed.

"And, like, you know, they say to wear layers so you can be prepared for anything, right?"

"Who's 'they'?" Rhodey asked with a smirk.

"People." Peter spoke a little too quickly for Tony's liking.

"You've been kinda jumpy, bambino, is everything okay?"

Peter nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course. I'm fine."

"Was it another nightmare? You can always tell-"

"No, jeez! Get off my back, dad, I'm fine." The word 'me' died on Tony's tongue as Peter snapped at him.

The family fell into an uncomfortable silence, none of them knowing what to say. Peter had been acting strangely lately, from snapping in the mornings to getting cagey when his father tried to hug him. Not to mention the odd night when Peter woke up screaming and lock his door, refusing to let anyone in or to let anyone help.

"So, Peter," Pepper started. "How's school?"

Peter shrugged. "It's school. I don't know, I guess it's okay."

"I saw your light was on a couple nights ago pretty late," she said. Peter tensed slightly, his face paling a little. "Were you up late doing homework?"

Peter jumped on the excuse Pepper had given him. "Yeah! Yeah, we- uh, we had a paper due. In history."

"What about?" Rhodey jumped in.

"Nnn-Napoleon."

"I thought you were doing American history." Tony scrunched up his face.

"I am," Peter said, pushing his Eggo's around his plate as he waited for Tony to finish the eggs. "We just had a paper that was free choice topics."

"And you chose Napoleon?"

"Yes." Peter scooted his chair back. "I'm going to go see Ned, okay? We were going to go see a movie."

Tony watched as his son took off. He barely got a wave passed the elevator doors before they were closed and Peter was out of sight. The man let out a breath and let his head fall into his hands heavily. "Ugh."