Today had been, without question, one of the worst days Peter had had in a long time.

It started with his alarm not going off, which meant he was late, very late, for a meeting with J. Jonah Jameson. His boss hadn’t taken it well. Loud shouting, finger pointing, and a lot of spittle had been involved. Trying to salvage the day, Peter went out to grab some shots for the Bugle. That’s when someone nearly walked into him on the street. He sidestepped quickly only to collide with someone else, who promptly spilled their very hot coffee all over his brand new shirt. There was no saving it. Now he smelled like burnt espresso and regret.

To make things worse, he’d had an argument with Ned. Over what, he couldn’t even remember. Something dumb. Something not worth fighting over. He’d already sent a sheepish apology, but the guilt still clung to him. Then, just as he was heading over to Stark Tower, Sandman showed up. Thankfully it had been a short fight but the aftermath was a mess. Peter ended up with sand in his hair, down his suit, in his mouth… basically, everywhere sand wasn’t supposed to be.

So, by the time he reached the sleek lobby of Stark Tower, still in his Spider-Man suit and frowning like a kicked puppy, he was well and truly done.

J.A.R.V.I.S. let him in without comment, announcing his arrival to the family as he took the elevator to the top floor. Peter didn’t even bother wiping the sand off his mask as he trudged down the hall to the familiar door.

He raised his hand to knock only for it to swing open. And there they were. The one person he wanted to see. Peter didn’t say much. He just pulled off his mask, more sand tumbling out with the motion, and gave them the saddest eyes he could muster.

“Bad day,” he said simply.

Tony Stark’s kid. His partner. The only person who might be able to turn it around.