A/N: Tw for severe panic attacks
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Peter Stark has social anxiety. Social interactions with people other than his family terrify him. He’s always scared that he’ll say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing when interacting and then he’ll get embarrassed. And it’s middle school. You can’t not avoid social interaction.

The team knows how nervous he is, and they’re going to help him out as best as they can. He wakes up to the sunshine peeking through his curtains. He groans, knowing that there’s only twenty-four hours until he dies. Elementary school was hard enough.

Peter mumbles as he lazily turns around, “Five ‘ore minutes.” Natasha gently tugs the blanket down, “Pete, we gotta get up.” Peter internally groans. Another thing. With school right around the corner, his anxiety spikes up. And when that happens he loses his appetite, and just feels sleepy.  He slowly gets up. Natasha smiles, holding the boy in a warm embrace. She asks, “Did you rest well?” Peter nodded, leaning his head on Natasha’s shoulder, closing his eyes for a few well-appreciated moments of slumber.

Natasha sweetly reminds him, “Pete, we gotta get up.” Peter reluctantly gets up going to the bathroom. Natasha lightly sighs, she hates seeing Peter in his “anxiety mode”. It hurts the Widow, seeing her nephew so worked up. She whispers, “Bud' sil'nym, moy pauk. My tut.”

Natasha leaves the room to meet the team. Tony quickly disconnects his call, asking Natasha, “How is he?” Natasha replies, “He’s all jittery. You know how he is, extra exhausted. We go extra easy, the kid looked like he was going to throw up.” Tony nodded, “I’ll talk to him.” He internally sighed, his kid was all worked up and he couldn’t fix him. He was The Mechanic for god’s sake. He hated seeing his kid like that.

Steve nodded, also very sympathetic for his nephew with anxiety. Steve spoke gently, “We’ll help him. We always help each other. We’re going to give Peter all the support he needs.” The team nodded. Within a few minutes Peter came down. He was greeted by cheery smiles and a small plate of toast. Peter gratefully smiles at the small portion. Under the table, Tony holds Peter’s unoccupied hand. They all talk about anything but school. The news, what books they’re reading, stuff like that. And Peter’s grateful for it. Especially because of the little voice that’s counting down until it’s tomorrow.

He spends the day with his family curled up as they watch movies. But the back of Peter’s mind reads the time. 5:30. He goes to bed at nine. When he wakes up, he’ll have to go to school. Peter exhales sharply as he burrows further into Tony’s side. He’ll be alright. His anxiety is just getting the best of him.

During some point of Frozen, he falls asleep, despite it only being six pm. Tony looks over at his now sleeping boy, speaking softly, “He must be really worked up. I’m worried about him.” Tony reaches forward to drape a blanket over Peter’s tiny form. He plants a gentle kiss on his forehead, saying a slight prayer to help him. God knows the kid needs it. Dio, per favore aiuta Peter, ha bisogno dell'aiuto di cui ha bisogno. Sono preoccupato per il mio ragazzo.

Peter slightly shifts in his sleep, it’s tomorrow. He’s in the car on the way to school. He gets there. The kids laugh, shove him and insult him. “Look how embarrassing he is.” He doesn’t realize that’s trembling. Tony feels something uncontrollably shake and his sleeve feels wet. He snaps awake, parental instincts awakening. Peter is shaking uncontrollably and tears are pooling down his face. Tony gently wakes him up and Peter throws himself around his father. He’s shaking and his breathing isn’t even. Oh god, Peter’s having a panic attack. A really bad one. Peter heaves, “Dad, I, I, can’t breathe.”

Tony nods, holding him close, just the way Peter likes it. Peter’s sobbing now. And soon, the others wake up. Tony strokes Peter’s back, trying his very best to calm Peter down. The others look in confusion, and Tony explains, “Panic attack. Bad. Bruce, he can’t breathe.” The others snap to attention. Bruce orders, “Get him to the medbay.” By now Peter’s cheeks are drained of colors. He keeps sobbing, “I can’t breathe. It hurts!” Tony soothes Peter, stroking his back, “It’s alright, hey, try not to think. What number comes after one?” Peter heaves, “two.” Tony nods, “Good. And then?” Peter wheezes out as he shuts his eyes, “Three.” The next thing he knows he’s being lowered onto a hospital bed. He’s bawling out. Natasha takes one hand, stroking him gently, “Breathe baby. It’s alright, you’re okay.” Someone gently straps on an oxygen mask and slowly Peter’s chest falls into a steady rhythmic breathing as he slowly closes his eyes into a dreamless sleep.

Tony looks over at the clearly terrified boy. He gently took Peter’s hand, softly stroking it. Maybe school wasn’t such a good idea after all. After all, Peter is already far ahead of the game, IQ very close to Tony’s. Tony sighs to the team, “I think we all can agree that we should not put him in school.” Natasha nodded, sighing, “There has to be some way we can help him. He can’t keep living like this, he’ll crash.” Steve nodded, “Nat’s right. We have to find something, somehow. Peter can’t take much. What happens if he’s in a worse situation and he’s all alone?” Clint proposed, “We could do some exercises with him, to help him get over his anxiety, or at least help him learn to control it.” Wanda nodded, “This isn’t something where it’s just one of us, this is something that requires the team.”

Clint nodded, slightly yawning. He was a father too. Seeing his nephew like this, helpless, weak, it hurt.

After a few hours, the team retreated back to their rooms to get some sleep. Tony remained by Peter’s side, his hand never leaving his. When Peter woke, he looked around confused as to where he was. He tried to speak but the oxygen mask prevented him. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Tony realized what was happening and gently removed the oxygen mask, instructing, “Hey, just breathe. It’s just oxygen. You’re fine.” Peter slowly sat up realizing what had happen. Tears pooled his eyes. He bawled into Tony’s chest, “I’m sorry.” Tony looked down at his sobbing son, “Why are you sorry bud?” Peter mumbled, “I panicked again and it got bad.” Tony stroked Peter’s back gently, “It’s alright, it happens. Tell you what, no school until you feel ready yeah? Besides, you’re way smarter.” Peter looked up at his Dad, “Really?” Tony nodded, “Yes, and is it okay if we work on your anxiety? The team and I?” Peter nodded, curling up into Tony. Tony lightly chuckled, “If you want to cuddle, you know you can just ask?” Peter felt his cheeks tint pink. Tony nudged his shoulder, “Just joking, c’mere.” Tony gently stroked Peter gently, humming a tune as Peter lured himself to sleep.

The next morning, Tony let Peter sleep in. After the night they all had, Peter must have been exhausted. And to be fair, Tony was too. Peter didn’t leave Tony’s side and Tony pulled him closer. Tony gave Peter a gentle kiss on the forehead, running his fingers through his hair, letting the boy sleep.

“Ti amo Peter, il mio piccolo bambino.”

A/N: Would you guys want the link to a small thing I'm working on on archive of our own?