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“Just one more,” Peter mumbled, pressing the pencil onto the paper. His hands were covered in graphite and pen ink, accumulated after hours and hours of studying. Trigonometry was truly Peter Parker’s worst enemy.
He tucked his legs up beneath him. Right. One more.
Peter’s eyes started to droop. He blinked, trying to keep his attention on the problem, but he had to read it three times to even comprehend what the question was.
And then he fell asleep.
Around 30 minutes later, Steve walked into the common room, expecting to make himself a cup of tea and read for a little before heading off to bed. Instead, he was met with the sight of Peter sprawled out on the common room couch, pages of math lying on top of him.
With a chuckle, Steve replaced Peter’s math with the softest blanket that they all fought over during movie nights. Peter’s curls were out of place, his chest softly rising and falling as he instinctively curled into the warmth. Steve grinned.
Steve made his London Fog and sipped it, watching over Peter to make sure the boy slept comfortably. God knows, with everything he’d been through, he needs a good sleep, Steve thought.
Bucky appeared beside Steve, holding Peter’s stuffed animal, Sandwich. It was a scruffy dog that Tony gave him as a joke, yet Peter never slept without it. He rested the stuffed animal against Peter’s side, chuckling as Peter wrapped one arm around Sandwich, tucking the stuffed dog beneath his chin without waking.
“I’m off. He seems comfortable.” Steve huffed, amused. Bucky nodded in agreement, following Steve out of the common room and into the elevator.
Natasha stepped out and raised her eyebrow. “What’re you two doing up?”
Steve smiled, raising his hands in a mock defense. “I was making tea.”
“I was bringing Peter his stuffed animal,” Bucky said.
Natasha’s lips curled upward. “Right. I’ll go check on him,”
Upon arrival at the forming nest, Natasha melted. Peter finally looked relaxed for once, his body not frigid with the tenseness he usually carried. Natasha brushed his hair out of his forehead and slid his glasses off, quietly folding them up and setting them on the nearest countertop.
“Sleep good, little spider,” she murmured softly, passing by Sam on the way out.
Sam hummed in appreciation at Peter being conked out. “Finally,” he spoke with a relieved sigh. “The little shit is asleep.” He walked forward and prodded at the boy, making sure he was out.
He poked Peter again, earning a small noise of annoyance. His job was done. Sam snorted before tugging another throw blanket from off the couch and draping it over Peter’s socked feet.
“Always says he’s not cold,” Sam grumbled under his breath. “Little liar,”
He thoughtfully glanced at the bright lights, dimming them ever so slightly so the change wouldn’t be too sudden, but Peter would get better rest.
Clint arrived, yawned, glanced at Sam, and then at Peter.
“Don’t tell him I did that,” Sam warned, almost threateningly.
Clint grinned. “Sure,” he said. It was most definitely a lie.
He approached Peter, prying the pencil he gripped tight out of his fingers. He set it beside his glasses, watching Peter comfortably doze on the couch. He ruffled his hair, walking off. “Sleep well, Pete,” he spoke quietly.
Thor stomped on in. His hair was soaked from the rain outside. “Ah, Master of Arrows,” Thor spoke, wiping the excess raindrops off his shoulders and onto the floor. “Why are you awake?”
Clint shrugged. “Heard some giggling, I think it was Steve and Bucky. I mean, after training for so long, nothing seems to slip under the radar. Peter’s in there. We’ve all been adding stuff to him.”
Thor laughed, loud and thunderous. For a moment, Clint worried Peter would wake. But with a quick glance around his shoulder, it was clear that the high-schooler was deep in the trenches of sleep.
Thor set his hammer beside the couch. “He shall wield Mjölnir in his sleep.” Thor unclasped his cape, settling it on top of Peter (rather, on top of the mountain of blankets). “Perfect.” He spoke proudly. “Now he shall know the warmth of Asgard. The young arachnid must not succumb to the chill. Get Man of Iron to alter the freeze of this room.”
Pepper sighed in amusement, stepping in. Her heels clicked against the wood, a sound that notified anyone that she was nearby. “Trust me, I’ve been asking him.” She spoke, walking to Peter. “Tony would rather die than let anyone else touch his special thermostat.” She ran her nails through Peter’s hair, softly scratching at his scalp as he leaned closer into the touch. She smiled softly at the motion, pulling away and watching Peter pout from the loss of contact in his sleep.
“He’s such a good kid,” she murmured, to no one in particular. “We’re so lucky.”
“A proud mother, you must be,” Thor spoke. No matter how quietly he spoke, his voice seemed to fill a room.
Pepper opened her mouth to correct Thor, but stopped. “Yeah.” She settled on. She glanced at the boy sleeping on the couch. “I am.”
Tony stopped dead in the doorway. “What the hell happened here?”
Pepper leaned back. “Everyone's been adding to Peter’s little nest,” She whispered in Tony’s ear.
“The second-greatest Mighty Warrior, after me, of course, was cold.” Thor chimed in.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve changed the temp if I knew Peter was freezing,” Tony spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Pepper snorted and shared a look with Thor.
Without thinking, Tony settled on the edge of the couch. Peter shifted from the weight. Without opening his eyes, he murmured. “M’ster Stark?”
Tony smiled fondly and hummed. Peter scooted closer and sighed happily, resting against Tony’s side. His breathing evened out, and the small crease between his eyebrows disappeared. “Go back to bed, bambino,” Tony mumbled absentmindedly, pulling the blankets up to Peter’s shoulders.
Pepper met Tony’s eyes, raising one brow as if saying, you folded.
Tony knew her well enough to understand. He smiled softly and ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I know.”