Happy had never thought the elevators in any of the Stark buildings were particularly small. Tony rarely invested in anything but the best, after all, and the sleek, steel-paneled elevators that bridged his penthouse and the rest of the building were no exception. Or at least, they hadn't been when Happy was only spending a reasonable amount of time in them. After a day spent buzzing up and down between R&D and the penthouse to coordinate deliveries, to check in with security to smooth over the details of Pepper's impending return from her latest business trip, and now to run the kid up to Tony, Happy was well and truly sick of them.

Particularly now, when the elevator he stood in had shuddered to a shaky halt between floors eight and nine and refused to move an inch in the twenty minutes since then.

He supposed it could be blamed on the weather, given that the storm raging outside had already bumped two shipments and three system upgrades from the day's schedule. Still, it was inconvenient at best and downright disruptive at worst. Happy scowled at nothing in particular and jammed a finger over the emergency call button again, just because he needed to do something productive. It was embarrassing, really. With what appeared to be power outages throughout the building, not even FRIDAY was responding. Washed-out roads and glitchy electronics were one thing, but broken elevators were an all-time low for a company meant to be producing the best tech in the business.

"You know, I could totally climb out and take a look at what's going on," Peter piped up from where he'd been pacing his side of their narrow little box, already tossing his backpack aside to eye the hatch in the ceiling.

"Don't even think about it! Pick that up before you trip over it—" Happy nudged the discarded backpack with his shoe and dropped a heavy hand on Peter's shoulder to anchor him firmly on the ground. "—and sit tight. I'm not having you go up there and then having to explain things to Tony when you end up getting squished by a moving elevator."

Peter sputtered an offended string of reasons why he "totally wouldn't get squished," which Happy pointedly ignored as he pulled out his phone in hopes of some reply to the increasingly urgent messages he'd sent out a few moments earlier. A few auto-reply emails from maintenance scrolled across the screen, but no ETA for a rescue was forthcoming. Happy stowed the phone and frowned. He was going to have to have a word with them about response time once he got out of this, but in the meantime, all they could do was wait.

"Stop that," Happy grumbled idly as Peter lapsed back into sullen silence and began spinning the lanyard that held his all-access security badge around his index finger, letting it coil up tight then unfurling it to do the same again in the opposite direction. "If you keep playing with it, you're just gonna lose it somewhere, then I'll have to get you a new one. Again."

Peter lost badges even faster than he lost backpacks, but Happy kept printing them and shoving them into the kid's hands whenever they happened to end up at the penthouse or one of the other SI facilities rather than the compound. It was usually a moot point since he was nearly always there to escort Peter wherever he needed to go, but Happy stood on principle: he would not have the one and only junior intern on the payroll being the only person allowed to get away with not using a badge (the favoritism claims were high enough as it was). Even if all the kid ever seemed to use it for was fidgeting.

He seemed even more jittery today than usual, Happy noted, as Peter only stopped long enough to switch the lanyard to the other hand and start the routine over. He wondered briefly if that could be pinned on the weather, too. He'd once dated a teacher who claimed that her kids practically climbed the walls when rainy days kept them cooped up indoors. Granted, he would've expected that kind of antsiness to come with a deluge of chatter while Peter had been abnormally subdued, but perhaps the high school version just differed from the elementary one. Happy sagged against the wall and sighed. Either way, he was thankful for small mercies.

With Peter staying quiet and the usual whoosh and hum of the elevator silenced, the weather outside seemed much closer. Every so often, the building would rattle in time with a crash of thunder from overhead and the steady wash of the rain sluicing down the side of the building did little to insulate them from the rumble and boom. Happy glowered at the ceiling as if that would make them start moving again through sheer force of will. Another crash echoed overhead, and the lights flickered, as if in some sort of cosmic defiance to Happy's plans.

"Oh, come on..." The overheads wavered for another split second before winking out, leaving them in the dim glow of the red emergency lights. Happy sighed and thumped a fist against the handrail. Perfect. Just perfect. Being stuck was exasperating enough, but being stuck in the dark was the cherry on a crap sundae.

Wrapped up as he was in his own frustration, it took a moment for Happy to notice the odd little wheeze coming from somewhere to his right, but only half a second to realize that it was coming from the kid. It was difficult to make out all the details in the dim light, but it was abundantly clear that something had gone wrong. Peter's breathing had gone strange and taunt. He twitched at noises Happy couldn't hear and eyed the ceiling overhead as if it would crumble in on him any second.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey—what's going on? Kid?" He realized his own voice was rising as he spoke and cut off abruptly. If what he thought was happening was indeed happening, panic from him wouldn't help. Granted, it was possible that Peter's sixth sense was kicking in to warn them of some horrendous elevator malfunction, but…Happy had never seen him approach a real emergency with even a reasonable (or sensible) amount of fear. The kid had an uncanny ability to shove terror aside for competence when he needed it. No, this looked like something else entirely. Something Happy was, unfortunately, just as familiar with.

"M'fine." Peter had retreated to the center of the elevator, putting as much space between himself and the walls as he could. "Just...not crazy about enclosed spaces."

Happy narrowed his eyes at him. This was the first he'd heard of it. And for a kid who talked as much as Peter Parker, that wasn't a great sign. Happy hovered a few feet away, watching the way the kid's fists clenched and unclenched with white-knuckle tension with a heavy heart and a gnawing sense of helplessness writhing in his chest. It was the worst kind of déjà vu. He'd seen enough of Tony's panic attacks to recognize the symptoms a mile away. The wide, hollow eyes and shallow breaths, the haunted expression of someone a million miles deep in their own nightmares—it wasn't a look he ever expected to see the kid wear. Nor was it a look he knew what to do with. Sure, he knew the steps to talk an adult down from the proverbial ledge, but surely handling a panicking baby superhero had to be different than handling a grown one. Softer, maybe. Or more sympathetic. Happy pursed his lips and frowned. He was none of those things. But the kid was clearly struggling…Happy squared his shoulders and stepped closer. Experience or no experience, they'd just have to make do.

"Take a breath—no, a good, deep one," Happy demonstrated with an exaggerated inhale. "And let it back out slow."

Peter stared at him as if he'd gone over the deep end and kept sucking in ragged breaths that hurt to listen to until Happy settled a hand on each of his shoulders. He moved slowly, half-braced for a reflexive blow that would definitely hurt coming from a boy who could bend steel when he felt like it, but Peter just flinched. It was better than the time Tony had accidentally taken a swing at him in the throes of a full-blown panic, Happy supposed, but it wasn't any easier to see.

"C'mon, kid. In…and out."

Peter grappled with his own respiration for a moment before finally pulling in a breath that Happy found satisfactory.

"Good. Again," Happy ordered. He let his grip on Peter's shoulders relax a little as the risk of the kid hyperventilating himself into a faint lessened, but he didn't let go. After another five minutes of careful, measured breaths, the terror rolling off the kid began to ebb. Happy barely resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief himself, instead clearing his throat as if that would clear the air along with it. The atmosphere was charged now, awkward in the knowledge that Happy had seen something Peter clearly tried to secret away and heavy with Peter's discomfort at being found out. Seconds ticked into minutes before Happy found as delicate a way as he knew to phrase things.

"So... This is new, yeah? Stress from your—" Happy shot a glance at the tiny camera perched in the elevator's upper corner. The footage didn't go anywhere outside of the SI archives, but there was no sense taking any risks. "—internship?"

"Nah, man. I've had this since...well. Since right after the bite." Peter snorted, his voice and posture still taunt. Coiled tight as a lanyard around a fingertip. "I mean, there's more stuff to…um…stress over since the internship, but…Yeah. Not new."

"Does Tony know?" Happy doubted it. If Tony did know, he'd probably be fretting over that along with his usual helicoptering about everything else Happy passed along about the kid. And probably internalizing a whole new mountain of guilt over the idea of the kid carrying around the same burden he did. Happy almost wished he didn't have to find out. Or even better, that there was nothing to find out in the first place.

Peter shook his head, shoulders drooping a little with the admission. Happy cleared his throat again, biting back the worry over what that hesitation meant. Of all the things the kid could choose to keep to himself, why did he always have to pick the ones that would hurt him in the long run? It was damn frustrating for someone whose job revolved around keeping him safe.

"He's got...stress, too, you know. You ought to talk to him."

"If I don't, are you going to?"

Happy sighed. Sympathy for Tony aside, he didn't like the idea of playing the messenger for something so personal—especially if Peter himself refused to mention it—but it was too large a problem to ignore. Looking out for Peter and reporting accordingly was an increasingly large chunk of his job. And he meant to do it well. Not just because Tony cared more about whether Peter was getting home before midnight every night than he did about ninety-nine percent of Happy's other responsibilities…but because Happy did, too. "You know that's my job."

There was a beat of quiet before Peter's face scrunched up in a resigned sort of grimace. "Snitch."

Happy let out a snort. That was more like it…It might not have Peter's usual sunny delivery, but at least a hint of the sass was back.

"Professional snitch, and don't you forget it," Happy said, punctuating it with a gruff stab of an index finger before his voice softened a tic. "I got my eye on you, you know."

It was the same line he'd delivered a million times over the course of his role as Asset Manager. But somewhere along the line, it had become more of a promise than a threat. Peter cracked a muted smile.

"Yeah, Happy, I know…it's only the five hundredth time you've said it."

Happy opened his mouth to retort, but was cut short by the lights blazing back to life overhead and the elevator itself groaning back into a steady climb. Peter squinted against the sudden onslaught of brightness while Happy grabbed for the railing to steady himself against the abrupt movement.

"Finally!" Peter breathed, bouncing on his heels as if he might just launch himself through the ceiling before they even finished their ascent. Happy snagged him by the collar again (just in case) to steer him through the double doors the second they opened into the penthouse. Where he landed directly in an unsuspecting Tony's arms.

"Here, handle this—I got a maintenance guy to go yell at," Happy said in lieu of explanation as he shouldered past, rather relieved to be free of those four walls himself.

"Hey, excuse me, I was expecting delivery in the thirty minutes or less—I feel like there should be some sort of refund here." Tony slung an arm around Peter's shoulders anyway, his eyes sharpening as he glanced between Peter and Happy. Peter's face was still too pale and his smile a little too stilted. More than enough evidence to tip Tony off that all was not well. Knowing those two, a bit of cautious interrogation would be all that it would take to get Peter to spill his guts, and that would be that.

Happy sighed, some of the weight rolling off his shoulders as he headed for the stairs (he wasn't taking any chances with the elevator) to storm the maintenance offices. He could already pick up the soft murmur of Tony's inquisitive voice as he exited. If Tony was on it, Peter would be fine. Maybe not right away and maybe not entirely, but…as fine as someone with a job like his could be. Tony would make sure of it. They'd make sure of it. And until he was—and after, for that matter, Happy would keep an eye on him.

AN: That's all (for now), folks! More one-shots may be added if inspiration strikes at a later date, but for now, I'm marking this complete to focus on a few other fics that should be coming within the next few weeks! Thank you all so very much for reading and commenting throughout this journey! You've all been so incredibly kind and encouraging, and I can't even begin to give an adequate thank you!