Winter had its ups and downs for Peter. The goods included winter break, and winter break meant less time having to deal with Flash, and Peter would take dealing with a little bit of snow over Flash any day. But winter also meant he could spend less time as Spider-Man. Sure, Peter's suit was equipped with a heater, but web-swinging in the snow was not an easy task. And many of the petty crimes Peter takes care of don't occur during winter, because it's too cold for the criminals as well.

Peter was just glad he had a couple weeks to himself. No homework, and definitely no Flash.

Winter break also meant more time at the Tower with Tony.

Today was Peter's last day of school before break, and the two had agreed that today wouldn't be a tower day. Peter was bummed, of course, because even though it was a Friday- and Friday's were always tower days- Tony had insisted that Peter just go to his apartment after school.

Peter tried arguing, he tried the puppy eyes, and he tried bargaining, but Tony wasn't budging.

How bad could one day off from the Tower be?

Peter bounded up the stairs in his building like he normally did on non-tower days. As he slipped inside the small apartment, May was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

He dropped his bag by the door and he slipped his shoes off. "Isn't it a little early for dinner?" he questioned as he took in a whiff of what was cooking.

May turned slightly to look back at him and she gave him a sad smile. "I got called into work early, I'm sorry, Peter."

Oh. He forced a smile on his face. "It's okay," he tried to assure her.

"I thought about leaving you some money to order a pizza, but I figured since you were already bummed about not being able to go to the Tower today, I might as well cook you something nice to take your mind off it."

Peter's fake smile turned into a genuine one. He loved his aunt. She'd do anything for him. And he wouldn't trade that for the world. "Thanks, May."

"Why don't you grab a plate? It's almost finished."

He graciously agreed and reached into one of the cupboards next to May to grab two plates, just in case she had time to eat as well. He sat the plates down on the counter as he waited patiently for her to finish.

It amazed him that she was willing to take extra time out of what little time she had left before she had to work lengthy hours. And not only did she cook for him, she cooked him one of his favorite meals. Spaghetti.

As he piled his plate high with noodles he made a mental note for them to eat in more often. It was rare now that they ate together- either May gets called into work early, or Peter is already out "Spider-Manning" as May likes to call it. But when they did get the opportunity to eat together, Peter cherished every moment of it.

Not long after the two finished their meals, May was heading out the door. "Leftovers are in the fridge for when you get hungry. Try not to have too much fun while I'm gone," she told him with a laugh.

"I would never," he pretended to be offended she would even suggest that. "Have a good time at work, May. I love you."

"I love you too, Peter. I'll see you soon."

And with that, the door to the apartment was shut, and Peter was left by himself.

After an hour of channel surfing, Peter decided he hated winter.

He was bored out of his mind sitting in this tiny apartment with nothing to do. Nothing interesting was on TV, Ned was already on a flight out of town for vacation, and he couldn't even go out as Spider-Man.

Peter scrolled aimlessly through his social media feed for what felt like the 1000th time, even though nothing new had been posted since the last time he checked. He glanced up at the TV just in time to see a commercial playing with a terribly animated Iron Man flying across the screen.

He wondered what Tony was up to. And why he was so insistent on Peter not coming over today. His first thought was of Christmas. Maybe he was working on a gift and didn't want Peter to see?

No. Tony would never give him a gift. He's already given him so much in this short year of knowing the man. Even if he tried to give Peter something, he'd refuse it.

Peter glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes after 6pm. If he took the subway into town he could be at the Tower before 7. Surely Tony would understand that he was bored out of his mind from being left alone all day.

Yeah, screw it.

Peter just about threw himself off the couch as he reached forward to turn the TV off. As he headed towards the door, his stomach rumbled. His fast metabolism sure was a pain sometimes.

He decided he'd just take some spaghetti to go. He could warm it up once he got to the Tower. And he'd bring enough for Tony, too.

He threw the container of spaghetti into his backpack and slipped his shoes on. As he reached for the door he spied a notepad on their small front door table. He better leave May a note. Last time he left without saying anything didn't end well.

May,

Got bored. Went to the Tower. Text me if you need anything.

Love,

Peter

He made sure to leave the note in a place May would see it right away, and with that, he was out the door.

The route to the Tower was something Peter had down to a science. He knew the quickest way there on foot and by web. If it wasn't currently snowing, he'd be swinging all the way there.

Unfortunately for him, it looked like a storm was hitting. He pulled his scarf further up his face in an attempt to keep his nose and mouth warm. Frozen flakes stuck to his eyelashes and he had to forcefully blink them away every couple minutes. His hands were shoved deep in his pants pockets; he forgot his gloves. This storm wasn't something he anticipated, and he was glad he was almost to the Tower.

The beautiful building finally entered his view. He craned his neck to get a glimpse of the famous A stuck to the side of the building. The Avengers themselves haven't lived in the Tower since the accords, but there was no point in changing the sign, according to Mr. Stark anyway.

A stray snowflake found its way down Peter's hoodie and a chill shot down his spine.

He wasted no more time reaching the front doors. As soon as they opened and Peter stepped foot inside, he was greeted with what felt like a warm hug. Mr. Stark knew to keep the heat up for the winter.

The receptionist recognized Peter right away and opened the small barricade that was blocking the private elevator. "Good to see you, Peter!"

"Good to see you too, Alyce," Peter replied with a soft smile as he walked up to the doors. The metal doors slid open and Peter stepped in before the receptionist could say anything more.

Although the door closed, the elevator hadn't moved.

"FRIDAY?"

"Mr. Stark has requested no visitors today."

"What?" Peter asked, dumbfounded.

After a brief pause, FRIDAY's oddly human voice filled the elevator again. "All access to Mr. Stark's personal floor is currently prohibited."

Peter scratched his head in thought. This was getting weird. It wasn't like Mr. Stark to block everyone out.

"Well, FRIDAY," he looked up with a smirk. "In case you haven't seen, there's a snowstorm outside and I have no way home. Might as well let me up so I can share this spaghetti I bought for Mr. Stark."

The elevator once again went quiet, as if the AI was pondering the offer from Peter.

The metal doors flying open was not what Peter expected to happen.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Parker. You're welcome to access the rest of the Tower, but Mr. Stark made it clear on his no visitor policy today."

Peter sighed and took a small step towards the doors. "If you say so FRIDAY. I guess I'll just have to use the roof entrance. That is, if I can make it to the roof in this storm."

Silence filled the elevator as Peter continued taking small steps towards the doors. This wasn't his first rodeo attempting to beat the system and get by FRIDAY's protocols. She always gave in once it came to his safety. He discovered the loop hole completely by accident one day when he was trying to access something in Mr. Stark's lab and she wasn't allowing him to, so he joked, "shoot me, it would hurt less," and he was granted immediate access.

The metal doors once again slammed shut and Peter had to jump back slightly to avoid getting squished. "Fine, Mr. Parker. You've brought this upon yourself," FRIDAY said, almost harshly—if Peter would try to put an emotion behind it.

He tried to question her, to find out exactly what she meant, but she didn't say another word for the duration of the ride.

Peter stepped out of the elevator and stopped.

It was dark.

Mr. Stark never had the lights off in the lounge. An advantage of using his own arc reactor to power the tower meant he could use all the electricity he wanted. And he rarely turned the lights off since he rarely slept to begin with.

Peter cautiously took another step further into the dark room, and that's when he spotted it. The empty bottle of what Peter could only assume was some kind of whiskey, laying on its side on the counter.

It wasn't like Mr. Stark to drink excessively anymore. Peter never knew him when he did, however, he knew just how careful he always is around alcohol. A couple drinks here and there, special occasions usually, but he always knew to hold himself back.

And that was something he was proud of. There aren't many things in his life that Mr. Stark admits he's proud of. The first being Peter, and the second being how far he's come with his alcohol problem.

Peter was worried now. He didn't know how long Mr. Stark had been by himself up here, or how much he's actually had to drink.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter called out as he glanced around the lounge. He cursed. He wasn't in here. He had to be somewhere here. FRIDAY would never let him leave knowing he's intoxicated.

Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket to use the flashlight to help navigate him around the disheveled lounge. He hadn't noticed before, but it looked as if a tornado blew through the place.

As Peter tapped the flashlight button, he checked the time, and for what felt like the first time all day, he checked the date.

He just about dropped his phone in realization. God, he was an idiot. He should've known. He should've caught on from the first time Mr. Stark told him he couldn't come over on Friday, when Friday's are always tower days.

December 16th.

The anniversary of his parent's deaths.

Peter knew this year had to be even harder for Mr. Stark.

Not long after the airport battle in Germany, the video of the Winter Soldier killing Mr. Stark's parents was released online for the public to see.

Peter had wanted to say something to his mentor, about how he understands. How he knows the feeling of being alone. Of not having parents. But Peter's parents weren't murdered by one of his friends and then covered up. So he never mentioned it. He was too afraid bringing the topic up was a one way ticket out of Mr. Stark's life.

Peter shook his head to free himself from his rambling thoughts. It didn't matter how many times in the past he thought about asking Mr. Stark a million questions about his parents, or lack of. Right now he had to find Mr. Stark.

"FRIDAY? Where is he?" Peter called up to the ceiling as he headed towards the hallway where more rooms were.

"Mr. Stark has currently blocked my access to his workshop." The AI supplied without hesitation.

A drunk man in a room with access to every power tool known to man? What could go wrong?

"Thanks, FRIDAY," Peter quickly mumbled as he bounded down the stairs, at the end of the hall, 2 at a time.

Peter looked in the glass that separated the staircase from the workshop. Mr. Stark was nowhere in sight. However, a series of old Howard Stark videos were currently on loop on a TV in the corner of the workshop. A broken glass sat shattered just under the screen, liquid still dripping off the screen.

Peter gribbed the metal door handle and surprisingly pulled the door open.

And now that the door was open, Peter wished he didn't have enhanced hearing-or that Mr. Stark didn't play his music so loud.

His mentor probably wasn't aware he was in the building, let alone in the workshop.

FRIDAY said she was disabled in this room, so there was no one to alert Mr. Stark of Peter's arrival, and rock music was blasting so loud, there was no way he heard Peter calling out for him.

Now that Peter could see the entire workshop, his heart dropped. It was just as wrecked as the lounge. Papers were all over the floor, tools had been thrown around, chairs and even tables were currently on their side.

Peter jumped the second the music was shut off.

"What the hell?"

He jumped again as he turned to see Mr. Stark standing behind him, a half full bottle of who knows what in his hand.

He opened his mouth to say something, and embarrassingly, nothing came out. What were you supposed to say to your mentor who was mourning his dead parents and specifically requested to be alone but you just couldn't stay out so you broke into his place?

"How did you get in here?" He asked another question since the small boy in front of him seemed to be having trouble with his words.

Peter's mouth opened again and he froze in hesitation. "I.. uh.. well.. uh.. elevator?" He finally croaked out.

Mr. Stark seemed to process the information, and Peter took this opportunity to really study him. His hair stuck out in several directions, the robe he wore over his pajamas was barely hanging onto one of his shoulders, he was wearing only one slipper, red eyes and dried tear tracks down his cheeks were enough proof that he had been crying, but not that recently.

"Get out."

Peter shook himself free of his thoughts and quirked a brow at the statement. "I'm sorry?"

"I said," he paused to take a step forward, but leaned too far to the right and had to catch himself on a workshop bench, "Get. Out."

Peter had already instinctively stepped forward and reached out to help stabilize his mentor. "I know what today is, Mr. Stark. And I don't think you should be alone," Peter tried to explain.

Tony pulled himself free from Peter's grip on his shoulders. The mention of today seemed to set him off again, and Peter felt terrible for it.

"I don't need help from some kid," he spat before he turned and stormed off to the other end of the workshop, stopping every few steps to grab something to balance on.

Momentarily Mr. Stark's words cut deep. The two of them had grown so close over the past few months, and just the other week after another one of Peter's embarrassing breakdowns, Tony admitted just how much he meant to him. Peter had no choice but to push the words to the back of his mind and remember the context. Tony is intoxicated, and mourning. He just needs time.

"Mr. Stark, please! You were the one who told me that talking about it always helps.. So, please?" Peter called out as he followed in the direction Tony went. The workshop only had one exit, so there was no where for him to hide.

Peter rounded the last corner of the workshop and faltered at the sight of the bottle Tony was previously holding, sat upright in the middle of the floor. About a foot away from the bottle sat Mr. Stark. He was leaned back against a toolbox, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his face was buried deep in his hands.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked cautiously as he slowly lowered himself to the floor to be at Tony's level. "How can I help?"

Tony sat himself up and pulled his face from his hands without answering Peter. He wiped away the few tears that had fallen down his cheeks as he pushed himself up off the floor. He had to grab the edge of the toolbox as the room started spinning from him standing up too fast. "Just go back home, kid. You don't understand," he said without glancing back.

"January 22nd, 2016," Peter announced as he forced himself back into a standing position.

With a small, "Huh?" Tony turned himself around to look at the kid who was now staring down at the floor, fists clenched, and it appeared like he was holding back tears.

"January 22nd, 2016," Peter repeated without looking up. "I lost my uncle. The closest person I had to a father, was shot and killed in front of me." A few tears slipped down his cheeks, but he continued.

"I was there. I watched him die. I felt him take his last breath. I felt his body go limp in my arms, so don't tell me I don't understand. 'Cause I do, alright?" Tears were streaming freely down his face now, but he refused to look up from that ever so interesting crack in the floor.

"I don't even know what happened to my parents. Did you know that? Just up and left one day. Don't know why, don't know where they went," Peter finally reached his hand up to his face to wipe away the tears that had found their way into his mouth. "You told me yourself, talking about it always helps, so this is me finally talking to you about it. Will you please do the same and talk to me instead of pushing me away?"

Silence grew between the pair as Tony leaned back against the toolbox, letting himself slide down the side to the floor. He tried his best to hold in the sob that escaped his lips as he leaned his head back against the toolbox, running his hand through his hair. Peter cautiously stepped to the side of Tony, allowing himself to slide down as well, keeping his gaze ahead of him.

"It was starting to get easier."

Peter turned his head slightly to glance at Tony when he finally spoke up. He didn't say anything, he simply nodded his head hoping Tony could see the action in his peripherals and understand it was okay to continue.

"Just last year I was able to make it through the day without a single drink, and this year…" he paused as his breath hitched in his throat, stifling a sob. "And- and this year, it's like I'm starting over. Back at.. Back at the bottom."

Tony reached his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Until now… I only- I only imagined it. But now, the footage is playing on repeat in my head, and I can't get it-," he bent forward letting out another sob, "- I can't get it to stop. Every time I close my eyes, I see it… I see him… And I know I can't blame him, but I see it… His hand wrapped around- around my… around my mother's throat."

By now, tears were flowing down Tony's cheeks. He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes as he desperately sucked in breaths between sobs. He was at the point where he could no longer control his breath, and he choked on any air he inhaled. The sight broke Peter's heart. He'd never seen Tony like this. He'd never even imagined it was possible for Tony to be like this.

Peter reached forward, pulling Tony's hands away from his face. He was digging harder at his eyes now, and Peter was afraid he'd hurt himself. "Hey.. It's okay.. It's okay, Mr. Stark," Peter said quietly, trying his best to comfort him. Peter hoped he wouldn't be crossing a boundary, but he said screw it and he reached back over Tony, pulling him in for a hug. Tony stiffened at first, like he wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but he quickly relaxed and buried his head into Peter's shoulder as he continued to sob.

The pair sat together, crouched against the toolbox, with Peter rubbing circles on Tony's back as he spoke softly, waiting for him to calm down.

Peter wasn't sure how long it was before Tony had finally calmed down completely, but he leaned his head back against the toolbox once his breathing had even out.

Almost at the same time, Tony pulled himself away from Peter, rubbing vigorously at the dried tears on his face. "God.. I- I'm sorry-," he tried to apologize, but Peter didn't let him get that far.

"Don't, please, don't. It's okay, Mr. Stark. Really," Peter told him, turning his head to look over at him.

"You shouldn't have seen me like this," Tony sighed, cutting Peter off before he tried to say anything. "Just look at me. I'm a fucking mess. And I do need to apologize. For earlier. When I called you some kid, and that you wouldn't understand. I'm sorry."

Peter couldn't disagree with him. The state Tony was currently in was one Peter never expected to see. And one he didn't think he'd want to see for a long long time. "It's okay, Mr. Stark. Everyone has bad days. It's just about how we handle them… Like I said earlier, you told me that talking about things always helps. And if today is any indication, it really does. I think… I think we just need to talk more. About the bad things, of course, but we should talk about good things too."

"I agree. I couldn't have said it any better myself, kid. From now on we talk about everything. And on days like these, we spend them together. Being alone doesn't help." Tony said with a small smile, reaching his arm around Peter's shoulders to pull him into his side for another hug. "And I think with all the shit we've been through, it's time you call me Tony. No more Mr. Stark. You got it?"

A smile found its way onto Peter's face as he let out a laugh. "Alright… Tony.." he said as his smile widened.