a/n: if you wanted oneshots that were both good-quality and long then you are reading in the wrong month,, no thoughts only the Spooktober drag /hj /lh

Spooktober 02: Screams

Exhaustion soaks through Peter's bones like it had been his own blood, effectively slowing him down. His third all-nighter finally started showing on his face, complete with the dark circles that make him look half-dead, pale skin that brings out the blue in his finer veins, and his eyes red-rimmed and burning with every second they stay open.

May's eyebrows rise when he stumbles out of his bedroom in the morning. "Wow. You look like America's Next Top Model. Did you sleep okay?"

Peter shook his head quietly, stuffing a mouthful of cereal in his mouth. "I stayed out late patrolling, I didn't really sleep."

"Peter," May scolds lightly. "You were supposed to come home at eleven. I thought Tony Stark put protocols on that suit to make sure you didn't do that."

"Uh..." Peter scratches his head and keeps his eyes down. "He did."

"...Peter. Tell me you didn't."

Peter looks up slowly. May was crossing her arms and giving him a look of sternness, and he sighs. "I'll put the guidelines back on! Just— Don't tell Mr. Stark. Please."

"You need to talk to him," May shakes her head. "He can help you more than I can with hero stuff, and you need to get some sleep, Peter. This is non-negotiable. When do you have your next little lab session with him?"

"Today," Peter mumbles.

"Perfect! You can talk to him then." May walks over and kisses his temple. "Have a good day at school. I'll see you for dinner."

"Love you," Peter says with a tired cheer, watching her walk to the door. "Be safe."

"I will. Love you too!"

The door clicks behind her. Peter looks down at his cereal, the energy draining from his face. With a groan, he pushes himself up and grabs his backpack from the floor. "Alright. Come on, Peter. You've got this."

School went by in a blitz, either a blessing or a curse. He slept through lunch, his free period, and let himself doze off in the final class because it was just science.

Ned was a huge help, guiding him along from class to class and poking him if he fell asleep. During lunch he made sure Peter ate something small before he passed out with his forehead pressed on the cold table.

Finally the bell rang and students poured out, and Peter was still sluggishly dragging along as he walked out the doors. Happy was discreetly parked in his usual spot in the back, so Peter says bye to Ned and starts his trek.

"What the hell happened to you?" Happy asks once Peter gets in the car. "You look like you got ran over by a train. Tell me you didn't get ran over by a train."

"I didn't get run over, Happy." Peter yawns. "Just tired. Mindnumbingly tired."

"Did you... sleep?" Happy looks at him through the rear view with concern.

"Yeah," Peter hugs his backpack and leans against the window, closing his eyes. "I slept during lunch and stuff. Can you turn the heater on?"

Happy doesn't say anything but reaches over and turns the heater on, not taking his eyes off Peter in the mirror. This wasn't the first time Peter had been so uncharacteristically mellow on the way to Tony's lab, but it certainly was a rare enough occurrence to cause concern when it did happen.

(Happy could tell it wasn't necessarily a bad day for him. Peter on bad days had an exclusive pattern of behaviours that he didn't stray from, like grinding his teeth and staying silent except for the occasional bickering. He also tended to be closed off in his expressions, looking at the window with a clenched jaw or scrolling through his phone with an expression that was forcibly neutral.

This wasn't Peter on a bad day. This was just Peter being, true to his word, absolutely and entirely exhausted of all energy, physical and otherwise. But to Happy it was disheartening to see either way.)

The next time Happy glances up, it was because a soft snore had sounded from the backseat. As he expected, Peter was completely comatose, his hair pressed up against the window and his mouth open slightly. The backpack was still held loosely in his arms, but it looked like it was about to fall.

The kid didn't look peaceful in any sense of the word, even asleep, adding to Happy's worry. He's seen the same expression on Tony's face, back when Happy was his personal security detail after he had been kidnapped. When Tony finally was able to sleep, he just looked like he was waiting for something to attack, waiting for something to happen. It was terrible to see on Tony, but it looked even worse on someone as young as Peter.

When he parks the car outside of the Compound, he sends Tony a text before waking Peter up.

[Kid is super tired today. Conked out on the way here. We're parked outside, I'm sending him up. You may want to talk to him]

Tony's response came in shortly after.

[What does that mean? Is he okay?]

[You'll know when you see him]

"Pete." Happy reaches over the seat and nudges his shoulder lightly.

Peter jerks up violently at even the slightest brush of Happy's fingertips. His eyes go wide with alarm until they blink a few times to recognize his surroundings.

"Happy," Peter says blankly, his voice still laced with sleep. "Sorry, uh... Are we here?"

"Yep. Tony is waiting for you, I sent him a text."

"Cool." Peter runs a hand over his face and grabs his backpack by one of the straps. "Thanks, Happy."

"No problem, kid. Let me know when you need to be picked up."

"Got it." Peter gets out of the car, stifling another yawn. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to remain awake for the entirety of his stay today, but he was damn well determined to try. Mr. Stark was counting on him, after all.

He makes way into the lab and has to stop himself from jumping when Tony meets him at the door.

"Mr. Parker," Tony raises an eyebrow. "You are quite the celebrity today. Got texts from May and Happy telling me to talk to you."

Peter's heart sinks. He shuffles in the room with a sigh, resembling a puppy with his tail tucked between his legs. "Yeah, I know."

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that your eye bags have eye bags?"

Peter frowns and pokes at the skin under his eyes. "It's not that bad."

"It's pretty bad, kid." Tony sits across from him. "You look like you're hungover."

"I'm not old enough to drink."

Tony's silence speaks as many volumes as his pointed expression, both of which tells him: "That was precisely my point. Keep up, Parker."

Peter bows his head down. "Right. I didn't drink; I just didn't get a lot of sleep. May told me to talk to you about it."

"Okay." Tony puts his hands behind his head and leans back. "Shoot."

"I did try to sleep," Peter says defensively. "I really did try. It's just that everytime I lie down, I hear someone, somewhere in the city, scream out for help. And then it's impossible to sleep until I know that the person is okay."

"You hear screams?"

"All the time," Peter stresses. "They never stop. Senses dialed up to eleven, remember? I try to filter out as much as I can, when I'm able, but when people cry out for help, I can't do it."

Tony brings a hand over to his chin, running his thumb over his goatee. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Properly?"

"Obviously."

"Uh..." Peter shuts his eyes and tries to think.

"Alright. The fact you have to think about it tells me everything I need to know." Tony sits up and pushes himself out of the chair. "Let's go."

"Wait, what?" Peter stands up, following him out of the lab. "Where are we going?"

Tony leads him down the hallway and into an empty bedroom. Blank walls, plain carpeting, not much else than a few standard furniture staples. He points to the bed. "Go to sleep."

"Mr. Stark—"

"I will call May," Tony interrupts. "You can stay the night. There's no way I'm making you use your brain when you can barely remember when you last slept, Pepper and May will kill me. So get some rest, we can sort it out later. Capiche?"

Peter blinks.

"Capiche," Tony answers for him. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., enable the noise cancelling panels. Goodnight, Spiderling. Have nice dreams."

And with that, Tony leaves, and Peter stands in the room with shock on his face. He looks back at the bed, a larger queen-size and more expensive than the one he has in his own room.

The noise-cancelling was new. It didn't completely make everything silent, but it was far quieter than Peter had heard anything be in a very long time. It was unsettling at first, but seconds later getting used to it and the quiet fell over him like a blanket of snow, and it was like a breath of fresh air.

His shoulders relax, and he slowly climbs onto the bed and passes out the moment his head hits the pillow.

He didn't even realize he had fallen asleep with his shoes on, and honestly, he didn't care at all.