Here to Help

I promise

TWs: None

We ended up watching Star Wars for hours on that sofa, Peter huddled against my side, my arm wrapped around him. Peter needed something that made him feel safe, and it seems snuggling on the couch watching people fight with lightsabers did the trick. But every once in a while Peter would suddenly turn and bury his face against my chest, gripping me tightly for a minute or so before relaxing and looking back at the tv. The third time he did this I paused the movie and looked down at him, running my hand through his hair slowly.

"You alright kid?"

"Yeah. I just... get a little scared sometimes and I just have to um... just remind myself again. That she's not here I mean. That I'm... okay. So I'm just hugging you whenever I get a bad thought right now," Peter mumbled. "I-I can stop if you want--"

"It's alright kiddo. You've had a pretty rough day. Do whatever you need to feel better, and lemme know if I can do anything to help," I said, twirling his hair in my fingers and giving him an encouraging smile. "I love you."

Peter's eyes always became a little misty when I said that, and his answer was always a whispered "I love you too."

Peter didn't feel up to eating anything bigger than a protein bar until dinnertime, when I made him pasta. He ate silently as he had during breakfast (which felt like weeks ago now), but again he was sure to eat all of it, and promised me he was full. When he finished he sighed and brought his knees to his chest, hugging his belly and closing his eyes. He'd done the same thing his first morning here, and again when I found him in Wade's room a few days ago. At this point I called it Kitten Mode, Peter all curled up like that.

But Peter didn't look nearly as happy as he did back then. He just looked tired. The only other time I'd seen him look this exhausted and depressed was when I found him in the alleyway. I gave his shoulder a squeeze as I picked up our plates and took them to the sink. When I turned back he had stood up, arms wrapped around himself nervously.

"Hey Mr. Stark?" he asked. "Am I... Am I allowed to go to sleep?"

For a second I didn't say anything, confused by the question. What did he mean allowed? But suddenly a memory sputtered to life in the back of my mind.

"I wasn't allowed to sleep until she said I could."

Part of me wanted to reassure him that he didn't need to ask permission, but he already knows that by now. Telling him again would only make him feel like I was angry he was asking. So I just gave him what he needed at that moment. Today's not the day for tackling difficult trauma.

"Of course kiddo," I said, pulling him into a hug. "You're allowed to sleep. It's okay."

"I-I'm sorry it's so early, it's only like seven o'clock--"

"Shh, it's alright, I don't care. You've had a very rough day today, and with your fatigue at the moment, I'm not surprised. I'd've probably gone to bed an hour ago if I were in your shoes kiddo," I said. Peter gave a small hum of laughter, hugging me a little tighter. Eventually he let go, rubbing his eye, though I wasn't sure if he was sleepy or had gotten a little teary again.

"Um... Aunt May usually goes to drink when she's mad. She'll probably go back to the apartment soon if she's been out this whole time," Peter muttered. "She's... probably been out this whole time."

I smiled down at him, ruffling his hair.

"Thanks buddy, I'll keep that in mind," I said.

"And um... don't, don't hurt her? Please?" Peter said, looking down and fidgeting with his sleeves. I crouched a little to look him in the eyes and grabbed one of his hands, smoothing my thumb over his bony knuckles comfortingly.