#hurtspideyparker posts something that isn't humorous NOR devastating? :o

[hurtspideyparker]

"What's up small fry?" Tony asks when he catches a blur of red and blue in the corner of his eye.

He continues unscrewing pieces from inside the old car engine at random, deconstructing the machine. Tony looks up at Peter when he gets no reply.

"Pete?"

Peter's hand slips from the door frame, trudging over to Tony across the workshop.

The sun must have gone down without Tony noticing, the only light in the room coming from a few scattered table lamps. Explains all the squinting he's been needing to do anyways. Peter doesn't have his mask on, but his face is too shadowed to read.

"How was patrol? I think someone made dinner, we can heat it up together. Or there's that mac and cheese you like—"

Peter comes closer and doesn't stop until he's crashing into Tony in an all-encompassing embrace. His arms constrict around Tony's waist, face squashed into the older's chest.

"Oh."

Tony looks down at the tuft of gelled curls, a warm sigh leaving Peter's mouth as his body melts into Tony.

Tony's arms jerk to catch the boy, scared he'll simply wash away, but Peter only relaxes further into the hug. Peter secures his grip with an unwavering hold despite the tension that drains from him in a steady stream.

When the hug sustains Tony pulls him closer, tucking his chin over Peter's head and breathing out his own restlessness. One arm rubs up and down Peter's back, thumb drawing a strong pressure into the firm muscle.

They stay like this; Tony's eyes close at some point, their breathing syncing into even exchanges like heart beats. He isn't sure if he should be worried or confused, but all thoughts flit out of his brain at the genuine expression of affection being laid upon him.

It's Peter who lets go first, death grip sliding away until Tony becomes aware enough to unwrap his own self as well.

"Sorry, I just really needed that," the boy mutters.

"Um. No problem."

Peter steps away, and Tony gives him a look up and down. He doesn't seem injured, but a weariness clings to his bones like laundry scent on fresh sheets.

"M'hungry. Can you make the mac n' cheese?"

Normally Tony would refuse, mostly out of the habit of saying 'no' whenever someone asks something of him before he even actually considers it, but Peter's eyes are big and earnest, and he quite possibly has turned Tony into a giant teddy bear with the way he's been appeased and clung to.

"Sure thing. Why don't you go get changed and I'll meet you in the kitchen?"

Tony is plating up the steaming, alarmingly orange food with a side of the lamb chop someone cooked earlier and a peeled clementine when Peter wanders into the room. He's in his signature hello kitty pajama pants and a striped sweater Tony is sure is his girlfriend Michelle's.

He looks a bit better now, simply sleepy instead of dead on his feet, the attempt of usual pep in his step as he comes and lays his head down in his arms on the kitchen table.

Tony places the food in front of him, Peter immediately shoving a spoonful of the pasta into his mouth without picking his head up.

"Fank 'ou."

Tony lets a humorous puff of air out of his nostrils.

"You're welcome, now don't talk with your mouth full," he says while ruffling the boys hair.

He swallows, "your hand smells like oranges."

Tony pilfers a piece of fruit from Peter's plate, taking a seat across from the boy and shooting a brief raise of his eyebrows his way.

"I wonder why."

Peter smiles at him.

He smiles back.