This was written on my Tumblr for Irondad week. Hope you enjoy!

Irondad Week Day 1: Vacation

"Uh…dude?" Peter smothered a yawn, glancing over at Ned as they made their way down the stairs in front of the school. His suit was in his backpack, and he knew he needed to go patrolling, but it was the official start of spring break so he'd decided to take a nap first. Maybe…or maybe he'd get started on his packet of homework. It really wasn't fair that his chemistry teacher had assigned them homework for spring break, but he already knew all the stuff. He'd just have to sit down for a couple of hours and actually do it. Then he could go back out on patrols.

"Hm?" Peter asked, frowning when he realized that his friend was standing still, staring at something in the road. He followed Ned's gaze, only to be distracted by a shoulder bumping into his.

"Move it, Penis!" Flash snapped, and Peter rolled his eyes, muffling another yawn.

"Pete!" Ned tried again. "Is that Tony Stark?"

"What?" Peter asked, turning away from Flash to look at Ned. He'd gotten roughly ten hours of sleep all week, only two of which had been the night before. And he doubted he'd be getting any that night. He couldn't sleep anyway, so he'd been going on out patrols all night, slipping back in through his bedroom window only a few hours before he had to get up for school. He knew that May knew. But she hadn't confronted him about it yet.

It had been a rough couple of months, starting in December when the nightmares had started. He wasn't sure why they'd waited until December…why he'd been fine right after the incident with the Vulture. It didn't make any sense. He'd been okay and then, one night…he'd been stuck under rubble, unable to breathe. He'd woken May up with his screaming. Thankfully, after that, he'd managed not to scream as much…but he'd still woken her up a few times. Not to mention the fact that he'd been losing his appetite randomly during the day. On patrols, sometimes he'd enter a building feel like it was about to collapse. Heck, he couldn't stand dark rooms anymore.

What kind of superhero couldn't handle dark rooms?

"Peter! Is that Tony Stark!" Ned hissed, obviously incredulous, and Peter followed his gaze, ready to assure his friend that of course, Mr. Stark wasn't outside of their high school.

And then he saw him.

Parked in front of their school was a fancy back car…a very familiar black car. And leaning against the hood was a very familiar man. "Uh…yeah." He muttered. "It is."

Other students had stopped to stare, but Mr. Stark hadn't even looked up from his phone. "Dude…" Ned whispered. "Why is Tony Stark here?"

"I…I have no idea," Peter admitted. And he didn't. He hadn't exactly spoken to the man since turning down his offer to be an Avenger. And Mr. Stark hadn't seemed angry or anything…just…they hadn't spoken. He'd been afraid to try and reach out to the man, and he hadn't heard from him since…Christmas? The man had sent a card from him and Pepper, which had been really nice, and a flash drive full of updates for his suit. That had been pretty cool. Peter still left the occasional message for Happy…everything was fine.

But now it was the first week of April and Tony Stark was leaning on his fancy black car in a pair of slacks and a blue t-shirt with a suit jacket, along with a surprisingly bold pair of green shoes, tapping away at his phone, not seeming to notice the teenagers staring at him. "Dude…are you going to introduce me?" Ned practically squeaked, and Peter frowned.

"What? I…I don't know if he's even here for me!" He hissed. Honestly, he had no idea what to do. Risk embarrassing himself and saying hi even if Mr. Stark wasn't here for him? Maybe he had picked another high schooler to be his actual intern.

Not that Peter was bitter. The billionaire certainly didn't owe him anything. He'd gone above and beyond for Peter. And Mr. Stark was busy. Peter knew that. So why did his chest hurt a little when he looked at the man? Just as he was about to try and explain all of that to Ned, the man in question glanced up, eyebrows lifting as he met Peter's gaze, then gestured for him to come closer.

Peter had to fight the urge to point a finger at himself and ask 'who, me?' Instead, he approached the man dumbly, far too aware of the fact that everyone, including Flash, was staring. Once he'd reached the superhero, Ned just a bouncy step behind, the man looked him up and down, nodding just a little to himself. "Hey there, Pete." He greeted, as casual as ever.

"Um…hi. Hi, Mr. Stark." He stammered a little. Then he felt the presence of his friend and tried to remember his manners. "This, uh…this is my friend, Ned." He told him, stepping aside just a bit, and Mr. Stark stood upright, holding out a hand clasping Ned's in his own.

"Good to meet you, Ned."

"You…you too…Mr. Stark, sir…" The man nodded.

"Alright, Pete. Hop in."

"I…uh…"

"See you, Peter." Ned waved, suddenly disappearing, and Peter wondered if maybe he was so sleep deprived that he was hallucinating.

"Yeah…". He waved back, then turned to find Mr. Stark already climbing into the driver's seat. Blinking a few more times, he pulled his backpack off, dropping in on the floor and sitting in the passenger seat. Putting his seatbelt on, he fought to keep his eyes open as Mr. Stark pulled out onto the road.

"How's the suit? Updates working okay?"

"Oh…yeah…". Peter nodded, wondering why he was so surprised every time the man spoke. "They're great, Mr. Stark. Um…thank you. And for the Christmas card. That was really nice. You guys didn't have to…".

He'd sent Happy a text asking him to thank Mr. Stark for him, but had never heard back. Mr. Stark just waved him off.

"Sure thing, kid. Do you have the suit on you?" Peter nodded, then realized what this must be about. "Oh…should I…should I put it on? Is there a…". He gestured in the vague way that he hoped implied the word 'mission.' The man beside him smiled a little at the road, eyes softening a little.

"No, you won't need your suit for this."

"Oh…okay."

Before long, they were pulling up in front of his apartment building, but as soon as he was parked, he began speaking. "I need your help for a couple of days if you don't mind. I cleared it with Aunt Hottie already, so pack a bag, Spiderling." Peter blinked, wondering if this was just a dream. Like…the weirdest dream ever, but still. "Pete?" Mr. Stark asked, eyes narrowing a little in concern, and Peter realized that it had been a little while since he'd responded.

"Uh. Yeah. Okay." He muttered, nodded and wiping a hand over his face. Mr. Stark nodded slowly, waiting, and then Peter realized he was waiting for him. "Right. Sorry. Um…do you want to come up. We have soda and stuff…if you want something to drink." He offered, manners thankfully kicking in. The man's lips twitched a little…was Peter just too tired to focus or did Mr. Stark look sad all of a sudden.

"Sure, Pete."

Which was how Peter found himself in a crappy elevator with Mr. Stark, leaning against the wall as they ascended to the seventh floor. It made a groaning noise at it reached their floor, and Peter would have been embarrassed had he not been so tired. Instead, he just led the man to their apartment, the same one he'd visited months ago…almost a year now. Sticking the key in the lock, he jiggled it a little and got it to unstick, then pushed it open.

He was glad it was relatively clean as he headed to his room, pausing by the kitchen. "You want anything to drink, Mr. Stark? We've got water, coke…". He opened the refrigerator and Mr. Stark gave him another strange look before answering.

"Water's fine. Thanks, kid." He took the bottle of water from Peter, taking a long drink, and Peter resumed his walk to his room which was, like the rest of the apartment, mostly clean. He wasn't sure how long this trip was going to last so he dumped his stuff out of his backpack and onto his bed, then dug out some clothes from his closet. Grabbing his phone charger and making sure to replace his homework packet in the backpack, he headed to the bathroom to grab toiletries, then paused as he was zipping the bag.

"Um…Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah?" Peter glanced up and found the man leaning in the doorway…his senses must have been off. Usually, he would have heard him.

"Oh…uh…my suit…I need it, right?" Mr. Stark took another drink of water.

"Sure. You got everything?" Peter nodded, throwing the backpack over his shoulder, then followed Mr. Stark back out to the car where he climbed into the passenger seat, doing his best not to close his eyes. Every blink had his eyes feeling heavier and heavier…but he couldn't fall asleep. Not now.

The sun was warm on his face as he stared out the window, and beside him, Mr. Stark was silent. The man didn't seem bothered by the quiet. Instead, he turned the radio on low and stayed silent until they reached…a plane? Peter blinked, rubbing his eyes, but Mr. Stark was climbing out of the car, throwing his keys to someone, and Peter followed, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, looking around in confusion. It was the same place that Happy had taken him when they'd gone to Germany. Was there another mission? Last time, Mr. Stark hadn't ridden with him in the plane, but the man was climbing the stairs and Peter was following and…it was a huge private plane, same as last time.

"Um…Mr. Stark?" He felt like he maybe shouldn't be asking, but he was so confused. And so tired. The man glanced back at him, lifting an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

He seemed to think for a moment. "I have a lab in Malibu. Top secret stuff. I'll show you when we get there."

"Malibu…" Peter repeated.

"Ever been to California?"

"No." He shook his head and Mr. Stark smiled a little.

"You'll love it." Mr. Stark gestured for Peter to take a seat as he paused to speak to the pilot, and Peter picked a spot in the middle, dropping into the huge, comfortable reclining seat. The urge to close his eyes was almost too strong and he felt the sun, still so warm on his face.

The next thing he knew, a blanket was being settled over him and he jumped a little but didn't open his eyes. Couldn't make himself open them. "Just me, Spider-kid." Mr. Stark told him softly. "Go back to sleep."

"Sorry." He muttered, knowing that he shouldn't be sleeping…there was a reason, right? A reason he hadn't been sleeping. But he couldn't remember.

He was in a building. A wingsuit flew through the air. And he knew what was going to happen…he knew that he was going to be crushed, so he turned and ran, but he was too late. The building was on top of him and he was gasping for air, chest tight as he fought to escape the rubble.

"Pete?" Someone asked. But he couldn't breathe. Couldn't see or escape…he gasped for air, heart racing in his ears until a hand landed on his arm. "Peter!"

His eyes snapped open then, and he sat up so quickly that he nearly headbutted Mr. Stark in the chin. Thankfully the man had pulled back in time, hands up. "Peter? You alright, kid?"

"Yeah…yeah." He whispered, gasping for air. "Sorry." Mr. Stark shook his eyes.

"You're fine, kid." Then he went back to his Stark pad, and Peter realized that the man was sitting right beside him. In a huge private plane full of chairs, Tony Stark was sitting right beside him. "We've got another five hours before we land if you want to go back to sleep."

"Oh…uh…no, I've got homework." He told the man, reaching down to his backpack and pulling out the folder with the homework packet inside. Before he could put it on the tray, however, it was snatched out of his hand, and Peter watched with wide, stunned eyes as the man tossed the folder into the seat across the aisle.

"Nope."

"I…Mr. Stark…what?" He asked, torn between his hero worship of the man and the fact that he really needed to get that done.

"No homework."

"I…I really have to get that done."

Still, the man didn't look up from his Stark Pad. "Don't worry about it." Peter blinked at him, but couldn't muster the courage to get up and grab it…or move seats. "Here." The man flipped his tablet to landscape mode and propped it up on Peter's TV tray. The screen showed a movie and TV database that rivaled Netflix and Hulu combined.

"…what?"

"Pick something to watch." He urged. It took Peter a long minute to realize that Tony Stark, Iron Man himself, was going to watch TV with him. In a private jet.

After a lot of hesitating, Peter decided on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, something he'd watched a thousand times but still loved. "Is this…is it okay? I mean, I have headphones if you don't…" He trailed off when Mr. Stark waved a hand.

"This is fine, Pete." The man assured him.

Peter managed to stay awake through the first two episodes, but then he was dozing again, head resting on something hard until something was slipped underneath him, and he snuggled into it, too exhausted to do more than listen to the actors on Mr. Stark's tablet, the familiar dialogue playing in his dreams as he dozed. "Shit." Came a different voice, one he sort of knew. Happy? But he hadn't thought that Happy was on the plane. He hadn't seen him…although it was possible that there was another part of the plane that he'd missed. "Is he sick or something?"

"He's fine." Came Mr. Stark's sharp reply.

"Are you sure? Because he…"

"He's fine. Happy." Apparently, that was the end of it, because he didn't hear anything else, only the soft sounds from the tablet and a TV show that he'd basically memorized. Occasionally he'd hear Mr. Stark snort softly, or give a quiet chuckle, and he wondered, as he dozed, seemingly floating in his own mind, if Mr. Stark had ever seen the show…or if he even liked TV.

"Tony…"

"He'll be fine. Just…is everything ready?"

There was a pause. "Yes."

"Good."

And then a hand was on his shoulder, warm and surprisingly gentle. "Kid? Wake up, Pete. We're here."

He blinked a few times, groaning as he shifted his head off of the pillow that was bunched up against the window. "Mr. Stark?" He asked, rubbing his eyes with a fist.

"Yeah, kiddo. You ready?" He nodded, pulling himself to his feet, then following the man out of the plane where they found Happy in a car, waiting. Mr. Stark opened one of the back doors, and Peter climbed in, fighting once more to keep his eyes open. "We're about fifteen minutes away." Mr. Stark told him, and Peter nodded, feeling his head swim. Resting his head on the window, he watched the unfamiliar landscape pass by. According to his phone, it was nearly 8pm here in California, and honestly, he felt like he should be more excited to be in California for the first time but everything was strange and far away. "Peter?" He jumped a little, turning to look at Mr. Stark who was looking at him with that strange look on his face again. Worried, Peter realized. The man looked worried.

"Sorry…" Peter wiped a hand over his eyes. "I didn't…uh…what did you say?" He caught Happy giving him a strange look in the rearview mirror and tried to ignore it.

"We're stopping for dinner. Any preferences?"

"Oh…uh…no. No, that's okay. Anything's fine." Mr. Stark nodded, lips pressed tightly together, but he didn't say anything more to Peter, just directed Happy to stop at the next fast food place they saw, and Peter would later have vague memories of eating a cheeseburger with extra pickles and a seemingly endless amount of fries from a bag covered in grease that sat on the seat between him and Mr. Stark. But the rest of the night was a blur of being pulled out of a car and half-dragged into an impressive, unreal looking house, through a long hallway, and then being pushed into a bed.

"Mr. Stark…you said…lab…"

"Sleep, kid." He heard the man say, and then, to his surprise, a hand was gently resting on his head, pushing some of his curls back. "We'll get some work done in the morning."

Peter was under the building. Stuck. And no one was coming to save him. He couldn't get out…couldn't breathe. "Help…" He whispered, then spoke a little louder, gasping for air, fighting to move…to get out from under the rubble. No one knew where he was. No one knew that he was going to die under this building and before he'd been able to get out but now he couldn't. "Please…please I'm stuck, please!" He was paralyzed…air dragged through his lungs in a wheeze. "Please, I can't…please, help!" He screamed the word.

"Peter? Kid, breathe. You've got to…shit." A hand touched his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Come on, Pete. Wake up. You're okay, kid. You're fine. Just…" He released a painful, gasping whine, shaking his head from side to side.

"Please! Please…I can't…"

"You can breathe, kid. It's a dream. Come on…" Another hand touched his arm, clutching his shoulders. "Come on, Peter." Someone touched his head, fingers raking through his curls. "It's alright, kid. Wake up."

Wake up? Peter frowned at the rubble, looking around the dust, then blinked…only to find himself in a dark room, Mr. Stark sitting on his bed, that same look on his face. "Mr. Stark…what…" He asked, blinking with eyes that felt like concrete, gasping for air that was suddenly readily available. Flinching, he pressed a hand to his chest. "What happened?"

"You had a nightmare, kid. You okay?" He felt his face flush, eyes lowering as he tried to sit up.

"Yeah…I'm fine, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't. You've only been asleep for two hours…it's just after 10."

"Oh…okay. I, I mean…thank you for waking me up. I'm fine."

"Yeah, I can tell." Peter squinted at him, his brain finally having gotten enough sleep to put some puzzle pieces together.

"You don't need my help in the lab." He told the man, sitting up against the headboard and catching the man's small, rueful smile in the dark.

"No. I mean, I'm happy to have your help in the lab. But it isn't why I brought you out here."

"Then…why? I mean…I don't get it." He admitted, rubbing a hand over heavy eyes.

"Your aunt was worried." Peter felt his eyes go wide.

"Did she call you?" He asked, horrified.

"To be fair, I called her first. Saw you on the news." Peter groaned, knowing exactly what the man was referring to. He'd…slipped. A web had been misplaced and…he may have ended up in a dumpster. "She said you hadn't been sleeping…for about two months." Peter shook his head.

"Wasn't that long."

'The bags under your eyes are telling me a different story, Pete." The man told him, not unkindly. It was strange…it had been so long since he'd seen the man. And now…he was worried about him.

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark. You didn't have to bring me out here. I know you're busy…". The man stared down at him, jaw clenched. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, repeating the motion at least twice.

"Look, kid…I don't think I handled this very well." Mr. Stark told him, voice still soft. "I thought you'd be better off without me around." He sighed, running a hand over his face. This was hard for him, Peter realized then.

"I'm okay, sir. I promise."

"You're not sleeping, Peter. I'd wager you're not eating enough either. That's not exactly okay."

"It's fine." Mr. Stark shook his head.

"It's not." Then Peter felt a wave of bitterness…of hurt. If the man hadn't taken his suit, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have been trapped…if Mr. Stark has just listened! And now the hero was worried? "This…it's not really an intern retreat or anything like that. I don't need you to do anything in the lab. Think of it as a…a vacation. A holiday. We're right on the beach. There's plenty of food. You can work in the lab if you want. Watch TV, whatever. Just…your aunt thought it would be…helpful. To get you out of New York for a few days." Peter didn't respond. Didn't know what to say. "I get it…if you're pissed at me. I wouldn't blame you…"

"I was trapped," Peter whispered, not even knowing why he said it. He'd had no plans to ever tell Mr. Stark this. But the memory was right there…right below the surface. The ash and dust and rubble crushing him. He felt like the memory itself was smothering him…like if he didn't get out from under it, he would die. And Mr. Stark was right here. Listening. "I…I was trapped and I couldn't call for help."

Mr. Stark went silent, and in the dim light, he could see the man's confusion. So he kept talking, the dark making it easier. "When you took my suit. The Vulture. He was my date's dad. I was going to the homecoming dance and I didn't know. He figured it out and…he pulled a gun on me. Told me to leave it alone."

The man sitting across from him was absolutely still, breathing steady and controlled. "You didn't leave it alone." It wasn't a question but Peter answered anyway, hands shaking in his lap.

"I followed him. To a building. A…a parking garage." He swallowed, suddenly aware that tears were overflowing in his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. "He took out the supports." Peter hated the way his voice cracked on that last word, but he had to keep going for some reason. Every word left him a little lighter…but also a little more pained. "I couldn't get out. I couldn't call for help…". His voice broke then, a sob escaping, and he hated himself for crying in front of Iron Man. For crying over something that had happened months ago.

A hand landed on his back as he hid his face in his hands, Mr. Stark moving a little closer to rub circles over his shirt. "Is that what the nightmares are about?" He asked, voice very firmly controlled. Peter nodded.

"I can't get out. It's like I'm still there…and I can never get out." He was practically sobbing, and he expected the man to leave at any point. His throat hurt and his chest ached, and as embarrassed as he was, he couldn't stand the thought of being alone.

There was a pause. A long, painful one. And then the man spoke. "I'm so sorry, kid." Peter frowned, glancing up at him then. Sorry?

"It…it's wasn't…" He whispered, shaking his head, but the man waved him off. Then he took that hand and rested it on Peter's arm.

"Yeah, it was. I…I should have stayed in contact with you. You shouldn't have been in that situation. Ever. You should have been able to call for help. And I…" He squeezed Peter's shoulder and Peter wondered if this was real, or if he was somehow hallucinating all of this. He was exhausted….and so hungry. The man's words were almost distant, but his tone wasn't. He sounded wrecked, eyes barely able to meet Peter's. "I…I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, kid. I'm not mentor material, Peter. I'm not…" He cut himself off, taking a deep, shaky breath, and shaking his head. His hands were shaking, Peter realized, breaths coming too quickly.

"Mr. Stark?"

The man took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, then going on in a more steady tone. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry that I was a shitty mentor."

"You aren't a shitty mentor." Peter murmured, and Mr. Stark smiled a little, shaking his head. But Peter kept going. "You aren't. I just…it wasn't your fault. I messed up…you were right to take the suit. And I was fine. I got out of the building and now I'm…"

"Underweight and sleep deprived." Mr. Stark cut in. Peter sighed, wiping a hand over his face. "Look…I…I'm going to…do better. Okay, kid? We're going to fix this. All of it." He squeezed Peter's shoulder again. "You think you can get back to sleep?" Peter shook his head. "Alright, kid. Let's head to the kitchen and get you something to eat. Then we'll go down to the lab and work on your suit."

Peter smiled, letting Mr. Stark pull him to his feet, surprised but not unhappy about the arm that the man draped around his shoulders. "Thank you."

"No problem kid. Let's get this vacation started."