Heyo so I know I haven't updated in AGES but, you know, high school's a bitch. I decided I wanted to try for Whumptober this year, and though I most likely won't be able to post every day, I'd like to try! So, here we are.

TW: Panic attacks

Oh and this takes place a couple of months after Homecoming!

~ ~ ~

Sometimes Peter would get shaky hands. His breathing would speed up, his heart would beat fast, and he'd feel like his world would come crashing down in a second. 

And he'd ignore it. 

He knew it wasn't normal, knew he should tell someone about it, take initiative, figure it out. He knew it wasn't healthy.

He didn't even know what 'it' was. Just that it was consuming his life, slowly but surely, making him wake up with tunnel vision, gasping, afraid for his life.

He had his suspicions, though.

PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder.

Night after night Peter had sat up, sensitive eyes burning as he stared blankly at the glaring brightness of his phone screen. Reading article after article after article, deleting his search history time after time again, because May couldn't know. She'd only now just found out about Spider-Man, and she'd taken it decently well, only giving him a tongue-lashing before stopping and making sure he knew she loved him. And he did know, he did.

Which is why she couldn't know about this.

Couldn't know about the nights he stayed up, heaviness weighing his eyelids down but he couldn't close them, he couldn't, because then he'd be back there, under the concrete and rubble, or falling from the sky, or stranded amid burning wreckage.

After reading the articles he'd open his messages app and click on one specific number, the one that only had one message on it reading 'It's Peter.'

It was his number. Tony's.

Peter would stare at it endlessly, type out everything he wanted to say in one l o n g text message before deleting it all.

He never hit send.

He desperately wanted to, wanted to confide in Mr. Stark about all the issues he was having, the nightmares, the panic attacks, the shaky hands. But he couldn't. 

After the Incident, Mr. Stark was making an effort to connect. He'd talk to Peter on the phone, offer him tips on his latest battle, and he'd sometimes invite Peter over to the Compound to help fix the Spidey suit if it got ripped or destroyed during a particularly bad fight.

But that's just the thing; while they'd gotten closer over aspects of Spider-Man, they had never discussed Peter except for that one chat with May about how much Spider-Man could interfere with his personal life and school activities. And Peter knew he shouldn't be bitter about it; after all, Mr. Stark had come for Spider-Man, not Peter Parker.

So as much as he wanted to confide in the man about his personal life, about how stressed he was over a test coming up or of how he just couldn't figure this problem out or how his hands shook nowadays, he couldn't.

So he stuck to pouring out his heart and soul into text messages every night before deleting every last one.

Tonight was different.

Peter was shaking viciously as he typed out a single word with trembling fingers.

--

Peter Parker to Tony Stark, 10:19 PM

Help.

--

He hit send.

... and immediately threw his phone across the room.

"Idiot," he whispered to himself, hands reaching up to tug at his hair. He jumped up and started to pace, becoming increasingly agitated. "Why would you do that?" he muttered. "It's 10 o'clock at night, all you're doing is breathing a little weird and shaking and you send Tony Stark a message saying 'help'?" Peter's breathing sped up arbitrarily. "Nothing's really wrong! It's just me breathing weird. What a useless thing to send a text about. My second text ever to him and it's a false emergency! I'm an idiot, he's never going to want to be around me again, he's never gonna-"

His phone rang.

Peter froze, fingers still threaded through his wavy brown locks.

Ringring.

His enhanced eyesight caught a glimpse of the name on the screen. 

Tony Stark.

Ringring.

Peter felt like all the breath was knocked out of his chest, and his fingers itched to pick up the phone, but his brain screamed to ignore it, to not let him know, to call back later, to convince him that it was all an accident-

Ringring.

Peter's hands shook as he lowered them from his hair.

Ringring.

He didn't move.

Ringr-

The ringing stopped, and the screen went dark.

Peter let out half cry, knowing he'd missed his opportunity to get help, he'd messed it all up, Tony would be so annoyed with him. But then-

"Kid?" a voice echoed through the phone, and Peter, who had moved a bit closer to the device while it was ringing, let out a startled yelp and scuffled back, heart beating quickly. Yet the knot of panic that had rested in his stomach all evening was unraveling at the sound of his mentor's voice.

"Kid?" the voice asked again when Peter yelped. It sounded clearer now, like Tony had moved closer to the phone. "Are you alright?"

Peter grabbed the phone and held it close to his face, trying to hold his mentor's comfort as close to him as he could. 

Idiot. His inner voice said. You texted him, made him call you, then you ignored him, and now you can't even say anything to him. 

Peter's breathing sped up, the panic that was starting to dissolve coming back full force.

There was silence at the end of the phone line for a few moments, before Peter heard shuffling and Tony asked: 

"Are you having a panic attack?"

At those words, Peter felt the desperate need to rebuke that statement arise in him, and he choked out his answer vehemently. "No." he said quickly, harshly, despite there having been no judgement in Tony's voice when he asked the question. Shame at his tone of voice arose in him, and, if possible, his breathing grew heavier and heavier until he felt light headed and was certain he would pass out.

"-eter. Peter." he heard Tony's voice say over the line. "Can you tell me 5 things you can see."

Peter was silent for a moment before processing his mentor's request. "I-uh, the phone, my desk, blanket, the floor- uh, my bed." Peter said, glancing wildly around his room.

"Good." Tony's voice said, calm and strong. "4 things you can hear."

"You." Peter said, pausing to listen. "My heartbeat, the cars outside, uh- May breathing in her room."

Things were starting to spin a little less, and more oxygen was entering Peter's lungs when Tony said: "Great, that's good. How about 3 things you can feel?"

"The phone." Peter said, feeling his phone's rough case press against his palm. "The carpet. My pajamas."

"Alright. 2 things you can smell?" Tony asked, and Peter focused.

"Burnt pasta from May's attempt to make dinner earlier, and, uh, pizza from the next door apartment."

"Good, Peter. What about one thing you can taste?" Tony asked, and Peter blinked, running a tongue over his chapped lips.

"Toothpaste." he said, groping around his room for a chapstick he could use, surprised that he no longer felt like he was drowning.

"There you go." Tony said, as Peter found the chapstick and applied it.

They were both silent for a moment before Peter spoke up. "Mr. Stark I'm so sorry, I typed that but I didn't mean to hit send-"

"Whoa whoa whoa hold up there." Tony said. "I'm not mad. I thought we'd agreed for you to tell me when you needed help. I want you to tell me when you need help. If you didn't mean to hit send, how many other times have you needed help and not called me?"

"I-" Peter opened his mouth, stopped, and started again. "I thought that was just for... Spider-Man things." he said meekly. "Getting hurt on patrol, that sort of stuff. Not... Peter things."

"Peter- Peter things?" Tony asked from the other end of the line. "May I ask what is a Peter thing but not a Spider-Man thing? Peter and Spider-Man are the same person, last time I checked. And if you're having panic attacks in your bedroom at 10 o'clock at night, like hell it isn't my responsibiliy to help you."

"It wasn't a panic attack," Peter insisted meekly.

Tony was silent on the other end for a couple of heartbeats before releasing a breath. "Peter," he started, sounding exhausted. "I've been down that path before, trust me. Ignoring it for what it is isn't going to make it go away."

It was Peter's turn to be silent. "You've-" he asked, unable to finish.

"Yes. They're not great. Feeling like you're drowning? Or being crushed? Rapid breathing? Unable to get air? Those are all signs of a panic attack."

Peter gave a weak laugh. "That sounded like a really bad advertisement."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh while I'm attempting to be serious for once in my life." Tony grumbled, but Peter could hear the humor in his voice, albeit a bit awkward. Frankly Peter was surprised it wasn't more awkward than it was right now; this was the most personal conversation they'd ever had.

Tony allowed the mood to be light for a couple of moments longer before continuing. "But, really, Peter..." he paused, trying to find the right words. "I get it."

Peter's chest went tight at the words, but not from panic. In fact, he was feeling an overwhelming urge of gratefulness towards Tony, because he desperately needed to hear those words.

"I get it, and kid, I'm bad with emotions- just a quick little disclaimer-" Peter snorted lightly. "-but if you need to call me, I don't care if it's 4 AM, call me. Seriously, insomnia's a bitch, I'll probably still be up. And if you ever need me to fly over there, I'll be there, kid. You know how much I love flaunting my armor. Iron Man to the rescue."

Peter gave a short laugh. "Thanks, Mr. Stark, but I'm pretty sure you'd have some explaining to do if Iron Man was seen randomly flying to Queens at 4 in the morning on a weekday."

"What, I can't go out for my personal enjoyment?" Tony said. "What is this, an anarchy?"

"I don't think that's the right use of the word anarchy, Mr. Stark."

"Close enough."

Peter smiled. The panic was completely gone.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark." he said again. To an outsider, it would have made no sense following what Tony just said, but both of them knew what he was thanking the man for.

"Yeah, no problem, kid. Now shouldn't you be asleep or something?"

Peter laughed again, standing up. "No, I have a chemistry test tomorrow I have to study for."

"Study for?" Mr. Stark asked. "You're literally a genius who made spider-webs with incredible tensile strength, what are you doing studying for chemistry?"

"I know the concepts, Mr. Stark, but there's a vocab section and while I know how to apply chemistry in the modern world, I don't know all the people in history who shaped what chemistry is to us today."

"That's stupid, I don't even know all those people." Mr. Stark said. "Besides, what's the point of that, I can still do chemistry and not know who or what some old white men did."

"Assessments are a social construct to test our knowledge on meaningless strands of knowledge." Peter said. "And, going by what you just said, that means you're an old white man because you're one of the people on the test."

"Smart ass." Tony said. "Well, you need to study then, so skedaddle there, young buck."

"Yeah, yeah." Peter muttered.

"Night, kid." Tony said, and he was hesitating, Peter could hear it in his voice. "Oh, and if you need any help with your... stuff, homework, whatever, I could help you on the math and science parts if you needed it. I could try on the history or english parts, but... those were more Cap's area of expertise. Rhodey would probably know, though, so... yeah, if you need help, just give me a call. That help extends to 'Peter things' too."

While Mr. Stark stumbled through his explanation, Peter's smile grew wider and wider. It was obvious Tony wasn't exactly well versed in how to deal with kids, especially teenager spider-mutant-kids, but he was really trying and it meant a lot to Peter.

"I will, Mr. Stark, thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, night, have fun studying."

"So fun." Peter murmured, hanging up the phone. But the smile stayed on his face and gave him new vigor for studying for his chem test. When he got the test back, graded with a big red 100 at the top right corner, he grinned before taking a picture and texting it to Tony.

--

Peter Parker to Tony Stark, 3:22 PM

Look what I got! <image>

Tony Stark to Peter Parker, 3:24 PM

Nice job, kid. I knew you could do it.

--

That night, his hands didn't shake once.