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Summary:

Tony's having a really bad mental health day. Thankfully, he's smart about it.

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Tony pressed 'send' before his courage could falter.

Peter's finals were in two days, and Tony had promised himself not to disturb him. He'd even offered to take over Peter's patrols for the duration, but that offer had been squarely rejected. Not even finals could interfere with Spider-Man's civic duties.

Usually, they saw each other at least twice per week; lab-time on Tuesdays and date night on Saturdays. And of course, they would text each other almost every day. But for the last week, Tony had insisted on complete radio silence.

Once Peter's finals were over, Tony would let him crash at the Tower for a whole week, giving him unrestricted use of the lab and instructing F.R.I.D.A.Y to provide a steady stream of take-out.
It would be a well-earned reward for both of them.

Tony stared at the phone in his hand. It was a simple text, but composing it had taken almost an hour.

“Not doing that well, Pete,”.

He breathed out harshly. Peter never turned his phone off, but he might have turned the volume down to focus on a particularly difficult equation. If Tony was quick about it, he could probably recall the message before Peter could see it.

”F.R.I., give Peter full access to my personal data; vitals, location, and all personal communication. Let him know you've done it.”

”Done, boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y replied, her voice full of a warmth he didn't remember programming into her. ”I'm impressed with how you're handling this.”

That makes one of us, Tony muttered to himself and sank down in one of his office chairs. Less than a minute later, the phone rang.

”Tony! What's going on?” Peter half-shouted. His voice was muffled and it took Tony a second to realize why. Peter had pulled on his mask and was climbing out the window. His apartment faced a back alley for this exact purpose.

Tony sighed. ”No, no. I'm not in any danger. I don't need Spider-Man, I...” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid. Apologizing was at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the impulse and forced himself to continue. ”My anxiety is through the roof and I'm starting to freak myself out over it. I've got an emergency session with my shrink in the morning and F.R.I. is watching over me, and I'm perfectly, physically safe, Pete, I can't stress that enough, but... I really want to see you.”

”You should come over. Right now,” Peter replied, and Tony could hear the window being pulled shut. ”F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you send Tony to my apartment right away?”

”I can and I will, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y cheerfully replied. ”Boss will be right over.”

 

The driverless car pulled up in front of Peter's apartment building half an hour later. For the sake of preserving Spider-Man's identity, Peter had reluctantly agreed to live off-campus, which meant he couldn't fully participate in the social activities arranged by the various student organizations. Another concession Peter had made was that while a grant paid for his tuition, Tony covered his rent.

”Other students have jobs,” Peter had protested, ”Some of them have jobs and families. I just don't feel like I'm in a position to complain if I have to work. I know I could pull it off.”

Of course, Peter could pull it off; complete his coursework while doing nightly patrols and working afternoons in some warehouse, but it would be a miserable four years and Tony couldn't stand to see it, not when he could so easily help. ”You can pay me back in the future. We'll hash out the details. But, please, you've gotta let me do this for you.”

Surprisingly, May had taken Tony's side which had been why Peter had ultimately agreed to the arrangement.

And though he didn't get the stereotypical college experience, Peter was earning a degree in mechanical engineering while getting to be Spider-Man and still sleeping seven hours per night.

 

Tony got out of the car and watched it roll away quietly. He'd only been here a few times over the years, and he hoped the cover of darkness would keep him from being spotted. It was only a matter of time before his and Peter's relationship became public knowledge, and he wanted to postpone it as long as possible.

The light came on in the stairway as Peter opened the front door. He looked surprisingly put together for a man cramming for finals. His hair was unwashed, but he was wearing a clean t-shirt and sweatpants and didn't seem to be shaking with adrenaline.

”Come in,” he whispered and pulled Tony inside, guiding him up the stairs to his apartment. He closed the door behind them gently and gave Tony a quick hug before pushing him into the small kitchen.

”You want tea? Coffee? I've got decaf.”

Tony wasn't in the mood for either but he wanted Peter to do something for him, to tend to his needs. ”Decaf. Or the odds of me getting my two hours of beauty sleep will drop to zero.”

”Seems like we're facing the opposite problem tonight,” Peter said with a grin and held up a packet of instant decaf. He took out two coffee mugs from the cabinet, the cheapest white ones from IKEA, respectable enough to serve your guests shitty instant coffee in. ”Let me just boil some water, and...” Peter reached over to fill the pan and put it on the stove. ”F.R.I.D.A.Y says you haven't had any alcohol, which is great. Uhm, she also says I should try to get you to eat something.” He glanced over at Tony. ”Would that be okay?”

”I'm not really hungry, but... Yeah.” It was hard to force himself to eat, and it wasn't like F.R.I.D.A.Y could assist in that. But if he was with Peter, he would give it a try.

”I have a ton of lasagna in the fridge; that's what I've been surviving on these last few days.” Peter continued. ”But I also have energy bars. If you're not that hungry,” he shrugged and fell silent as he finished preparing the coffee.

With their coffee cooling on the counter, he pulled Tony into a careful hug. “Feel like talking about it? If you don't, that's fine too.”

Tony hid his face against Peter's neck and let the contact ground him. Peter's skin always smelled a little like sweat. It wasn't enough to be gross, but it was a unique Peter-smell that Tony found oddly comforting; a reminder that Peter was flesh-and-blood and not simply an idea in his head.

”It's nothing new, really. I feel guilty about the shitty things I've done, shame, and self-loathing yadda yadda. But the new thing is, I started having these disturbingly vivid fantasies about people telling me that I don't deserve to live. That I don't deserve you, or Pep, or Rhodey, or anything good ever again. It was like the court of public opinion coming to life in IMAX format in my mind, and I couldn't get these scenes to stop playing.”

Peter didn't say anything, but one of his hands started rubbing small circles on Tony's back.

”At that point, I felt like it was starting to head into pretty dangerous territory, so I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to watch over me in case I did anything stupid.” Tony closed his eyes and tried sinking deeper into Peter's embrace.

Peter was a bonafide superhuman, strong enough to tear a car door off its hinges but having enough self-control to hug Tony without hurting him. He was the very definition of 'safe to be around.'

”It's good to know my self-preservation instinct still works,” Tony admitted with a little laugh. And maybe that was part of it too, the people he had let into his life. Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, and Peter. They were all people who could be trusted.

“I'm glad it does,” Peter said softly and gave Tony a gentle squeeze. “But I hate that you're in so much pain.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Tony admitted with a sigh. “It definitely sucks.”

 

The living room had a lived-in feeling to it, but except for the books that were everywhere, it looked surprisingly tidy.

Peter's laptop was on the chair by the window, plugged in and playing ambient music; probably from one of those “Study music”-playlists on YouTube. The Spider-Man suit was hung over the back of the chair, waiting for its next use.

There was a pile of protein bars on the coffee table, next to a notebook open to a spread of Peter's notes and calculations written in his messy handwriting.

He rearranged the couch cushions to give Tony space to sit, and sat down next to him, pulling a large open book into his lap. He handed Tony a protein bar from the pile and squeezed his knee.

“FRI says you'll be picked up at seven. You okay like this?”

Tony nodded.

He would eat his protein bar, drink his coffee, and watch Peter study until he fell asleep or was picked up, depending on which came first. The only thing required of him was to stay put.

He could do that.