Chapter Text
"Peter?"
"Yes, Karen?"
"There seems to be an attempted mugging taking place two blocks to the east."
"Then let's go!" Peter whoops, leaping off the roof he's perched on.
The wind whips past his mask as he falls, and a grin spreads across his face before he snaps his fingers to his palm and webbing shoots outwards. Peter swings towards Karen's marker, glowing on his HUD, and flings himself up to the top of the building overlooking it. An alley stretches below him. Some guy in a lime-green hoodie is advancing on a suited woman in the far corner, who's clutching her bag to her side as she takes a step back. The glint of metal catches his eye, and Peter sees another mugger brandishing a gun at the woman.
"Nice color," he quips, jumping down to land behind the guy. He whips round, holding the gun tightly. "Really... really contrasts with your skin, you know?" The green accentuates the man's pallor, making him look ill. As Peter speaks, his face twists into a glare.
"Fuckin' Spider-Man," the other one curses, raising the gun.
"Woah, don't point that at me," Peter protests. "What if you accidentally shoot me? That would suck for everyone."
"If I shoot you, it won't be an accident," she spits.
"See, that just hurts my feelings."
Hoodie lets out a yell and charges, and Peter flips out of the way before webbing his side. He stumbles, arm immobile, as Gun raises the weapon and shoots twice. Peter dodges both, and he's about to focus on her before Hoodie sends a punch careening towards him. Peter's spidey-sense sparks and he ducks. The fist sails right into Gun's face and she lets out a cry as she staggers back, letting go of the pistol with one hand. Hoodie's above him, overbalancing, and Peter pushes up and Hoodie falls over his shoulder, hitting the ground with a thump and a grunt. Peter webs him up fully, and Hoodie tries and fails to struggle out of the restraint. The focus on the man means that Gun's had time, though, and as Peter's head jerks up he sees the barrel pointed straight at him. Gun yells something in a language he doesn't recognize, and her eyes flash green for a split-second. Peter's eyes widen and she fires, and he tries to lunge out of the way. The bullet hits his arm, grazing it just below his shoulder. Stinging pain tears across it and Peter grimaces. He straightens and fires a web straight at the handgun, tearing it right out of Gun's hands. She swears as she's pulled slightly forward, and Peter uses the opening to kick her backwards. She hits the wall and Peter sends a barrage of webs towards her.
"That was really mean," he tells her. "You should be nicer to strangers. Try it with the cops when they come to pick you up, maybe?"
Gun lets out a stream of curses, and Peter turns towards the businesswoman, who's staring at him.
"You okay, ma'am?" he asks, and she nods vigorously.
"Thank you, Spider-Man," she tells him, and hurries out of the alley.
He smiles, and swings away.
"What time is it, Karen?" he asks once he's high up again, eyes roving over the streets below him.
"It's currently ten to midnight, Peter."
"Crap!" Peter yelps. May's new curfew is a strict twelve o'clock or else. He lets go of the web he's on, firing another to the side. "I gotta get home," he mutters to himself.
It takes him seven minutes to get back home, in the end, and he hurriedly checks around before crawling through the window into his room. He peeks out of the doorway to see May sitting on the couch with a mug in her hands.
"I'm back, May," he says.
May smiles. "Hey, baby. Good patrol?"
Peter nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I stopped a mugging, and some guy who was robbing the convenience store on 73rd. And then someone trying to steal a car. And then... and then another mugging," he finishes.
"That's my boy," she says, setting the drink down as she gets up. "Come here." Peter goes over, and May gives him a tight hug. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
"Night, May." She releases him and Peter returns to his room, taking off the Spider-Man suit quickly before getting ready and diving under the covers. The graze on his arm stings slightly when his duvet brushes against it. He yawns, turning over, and closes his eyes.
Peter wakes up early the next day. It's Saturday, his weekly internship day with Tony. Usually, his weekends are divided into interning on Saturday and Spider-Man on Sunday, giving him time for both major aspects of his life. It's a system that keeps May happy, and so it works.
"May?" he calls, swinging out of bed. "May, I'm going to head over."
He looks around the empty apartment twice for her before he sees the note on the kitchen counter. May's gone grocery shopping. Peter sends her a quick text telling her he's leaving, then packs the suit into his backpack. It got slightly damaged from Gun's shot yesterday, and he knows Tony always prefers it when Peter tells him sooner rather than later about injuries to it. He pulls on one of his science pun tees - I lost an electron. Are you positive? - and practically runs out of the house, eager to get to the Tower. It's a roughly hour-long ride from his home to Tony's using the subway, and he spends most of it nodding along to music. His dancing, MJ tells him regularly, leaves a lot to be desired; Peter doesn't pull it out in public. Once he starts mouthing along to the lyrics, though, the look the woman opposite gives him says it all.
Finally, he gets to the Tower, getting off at Grand Central and walking the rest of the way. The doors open for him with a pneumatic hiss, and he digs out his security badge and loops it around his neck. He recognizes Jess on reception today, and she gives him a bright smile before going back to whoever she's on the phone with. Peter heads for the security gate and flashes the badge as he walks through, then takes the elevator up to Tony's floors.
"Good morning, Peter," FRIDAY greets him when he steps out, holding onto his backpack strap with one hand.
"Hey, FRIDAY. How's it going?"
"It's going well, thank you. Boss is waiting for you in the lab," she replies, a hint of amusement.
"Great," Peter says. "Thanks!"
Tony is, indeed, in the lab. Peter pushes the door open to find him tinkering with something he doesn't recognize, an expression of focused concentration on his face. At the sound of the glass swinging back, Tony looks up and his face breaks into a smile.
"Hey, Pete," he says, going back to the device. "How was school?"
"Oh, it was fine, thank you, Mr. Stark," Peter tells him, dumping his backpack on the free workstation across from Tony. "Pretty normal."
Tony makes a humming noise. "Mmhmm. And how was spider duty?"
"It was good. It was really good!" Peter blurts out.
"Spit it out, kid."
"I might have damaged the suit. Not much! I just thought I would, uh, tell you," Peter trails off, carefully extracting the suit from his bag and holding it up to show Tony.
Tony sighs. "Alright, bring it over. Where?"
"Just here," Peter says, flattening the fabric out on Tony's table and pointing to the slight tear.
"That's not too bad. Easy fix," Tony tells him, and pulls open the drawer of his desk. "What happened?"
Peter rubs at the back of his neck and returns to his workstation, jumping up to sit on the table, legs swinging. "Someone tried to shoot me."
Tony produces a tiny box of precision tools and starts working on Peter's suit, inspecting the tear. "Who?"
"I don't know. Just a mugger. But she was really weird."
Tony looks up. "Really weird?"
"Yeah. So first I saw them and the only thing I noticed about them was that one guy was wearing a hoodie that was, like, I swear, a crime against fashion, and the other one had a gun so I thought I'd be fine," Peter begins, "but then when I was stopping them she was trying to shoot me and then she just yelled something and I still don't know what it was but then her eyes just flashed, Mr. Stark, and then she shot me and it was only a graze but it was really weird."
Tony blinks, and raises an eyebrow. "Wow. Sounds like she's escaped from Strange's rogues gallery." He finishes tugging the sides of the tear together, and picks up another tool, running it carefully along the gap.
"Strange?" Peter asks, frowning.
"Doctor Strange. I met him a couple months back. He's a wizard," Tony says almost absentmindedly, eyes narrowing as he finishes repairing the suit. "Okay, kid. That should do it."
Peter hops off the table and picks up the suit, examining the now non-existent tear. "Thanks, Mr. Stark," he says.
"You sure you didn't get injured anywhere else?" Tony asks, looking up at him.
Peter shakes his head. "No. It was a really good day, actually."
"Fair enough," Tony says. "You got homework?"
Peter pauses for a second, running through the list in his mind. "Yeah," he admits. "Calculus. Just one, though."
Tony nods. "You want to get it out of the way now?"
Peter rolls his eyes. "Fine, dad."
Tony looks up from his work, brows raised, and points his soldering iron straight towards Peter. "No. Shut up," he says, and Peter grins.
"You love it when I call you that," he points out.
"The flak from the others is not worth it, kid. Barton still won't take that mug back."
Peter laughs. The first time he slipped up and called Tony dad in front of the Avengers, Clint nearly choked on his drink. The next time he came back from staying with his family, he brought back a World's Best Dad mug and refused to let Tony reject it. Peter decides not to bring up that it's one of the two abandoned, recently-used mugs in the corner of Tony's desk, instead heading back over to his station.
Peter sits down and pulls the calculus assignment out, grabbing a pen. His class are covering second-order differentials, and Flash has been making his displeasure about the hard topic known all week. There's a knack to solving them, though, so it's more a matter of time than difficulty for Peter. He works his way steadily through the questions, one to nineteen, and spends a little longer on twenty through to twenty-five. It's a trademark of the professor to write out a few harder, longer problems at the end, though they're still well within the range of doable. Eventually, he writes down the final solution and stuffs the sheet back in his backpack.
"All done, kid?" Tony asks, voice slightly muffled. When Peter turns around, he sees the man's head half-inside whatever he's working on.
"Uh, yeah," Peter says, staring. "Mr. Stark, what is that?"
Tony emerges, face slightly red. "What, this? This is part of Veronica."
"Veronica?"
"It's a mobile service module Banner and I designed. It's meant to be in space at the moment, attached to a satellite, but the readings went a bit screwy. Thought I'd call it back and see what the problem is," Tony explains.
"What does it do?"
"Holds the Hulkbuster, and it can act as an electric containment unit for enemies. Originally the Hulk, but..." Tony trails off, and shrugs. "It's not like he's been around recently."
"Wow." Peter trails his fingers across the smooth back, remembering the news stories on the Hulkbuster armor. He'd seen footage of it, before he got his powers; shining red plating towering over the civilians involved. May had been terrified for their safety, Ben silently worried, but Peter remembers watching in awe. He'd taken it as another reason to idolize Tony. "Which bit is this?"
"Part of the inner casing," Tony says, words strangely garbled. Peter looks up to see a screwdriver held in his mouth. "Pressure seal's broken."
"Do you, uh..." Peter trails off, taking a breath, "need help?"
Tony looks up at him, pausing for a second. "You know what? Sure. C'mon, scoot over."
Peter grins and drags his chair to the other side of the workbench, and Tony moves to the side to make room. The inside of the casing is covered in electronics, a huge motherboard in the center spreading out like a spider to the edges. Tony's currently fiddling with a component at the top.
"This is the regulator," he explains, and Peter concentrates on the words. "It's supposed to compensate for any pressure changes outside or inside. There's another one on the other side, but that's already working."
"Okay."
"Now, what we want is to get it out super slowly. I've disassembled most of the rest of it, and it's all functional, which means the damn regulator is the problem. Unfortunately," Tony continues, "it's also the most complicated piece of kit in the casing. We have to be smart about this, Pete, got it?"
"Got it, Mr. Stark."
"Alright. So, take this," Tony tells him, handing him the flat-head, "and we're going to use it as a lever to get this baby out." He points with a fingernail at a tiny black device to the left of the regulator.
"Use a screwdriver? As a lever?" Peter asks doubtfully.
"Yeah, kid, keep up."
"Mr. Stark, you have, like, boxes of stuff. Do you not have an actual lever?"
Tony makes a pfft sound, puffing out the corner of his mouth. "Probably. Hell if I know where it is, though, and this'll do just the same if we're careful."
"Okay, Mr. Stark," he says, grinning, and Tony rolls his eyes.
"Don't take that tone with me, Parker," he scolds, though his tone is light and Peter swears he can see the man suppressing a smile. "Lever, lever."
"I'm going!" Peter mock-protests, focusing as he carefully slots the head of the screwdriver beneath the component. Slowly, he angles the tool down and the device comes off with a click.
Tony catches it before it falls to the desk, giving it a quick once-over and inspecting where it used to be on the casing. He nods. "Nice job, Pete. Now, we gotta disengage the regulator manually. You ready?"
"You know I am, Mr. Stark."
Tony instructs Peter on how to take apart the rest of the regulator, and then it's off and in Peter's hands. They spend what feels like days poring over it, running tests with FRIDAY's assistance and theorizing on the problem. It's Peter who finally spots it; a tiny chip of metal, the same color as the regulator itself, is lodged between two wires within the component.
"It's creating a short circuit," Peter says, showing Tony.
The man squints closer, then suddenly stands. "God, my eyesight's getting bad. Or maybe it's just your freaky senses, kid," Tony mutters, and comes back with a magnifying glass attached to a torch. He switches on the light and takes the regulator, inspecting it with the glass. "Yep, you got it spot on. That'll be damage from a collision of some kind, but we'll deal with whatever caused it later. For now..." He produces a pair of precision forceps from seemingly nowhere, and carefully plucks the debris out. "Done. Alright, FRIDAY?"
"Yes, Boss?"
"Let's, uh... run the electrical conductivity test again. See if we get the same voltage reading as before."
They don't; this time, the component is showing up with the right amount of electrical potential. Tony runs the device through a couple more tests before he's satisfied, and then he sets it down and grins.
"Nice work, kiddo," he says.
Peter beams, and lets out a small whoop. Tony grins at him.
"Don't get too excited," he says, and Peter feels his smile falter.
"Huh?"
Tony gestures to the desk, and it's only then that Peter registers the destruction laying scattered across it. Pieces from the casing are everywhere, stacked in precarious towers and small piles, spilling out across the entire desk. "We gotta put this all back."
Thankfully, Tony knows where everything goes. It's a blessing, to be honest; without him, Peter would be completely lost. Under his direction Peter repairs the regulator unit and then the components surrounding it, and then they both start working on the general casing together. Peter's replaced at least six resistors and reconnected countless wires, while Tony handles the more expensive stuff that's worth more than your suit, kid. They're well on their way to being finished, at last, when Tony reaches under the desk and produces a huge, shaped sheet of metal.
"Whew," he says, resting a hand on top of it. "Ready to fix the outside?"
That's when Peter's phone buzzes, and he looks down to see a text from May.
May Parker, 9:56pm
You guys have got distracted again, haven't you?
"Oops."
May Parker, 9:57pm
If Tony okays it, you can stay at the Tower tonight.
May Parker, 9:57pm
But you better be home tomorrow, mister!
May Parker, 9:57pm
Stay safe, Peter. Love you xxx
"What?" Tony asks, looking at Peter's phone screen.
"I've been here for way too long," Peter murmurs. "May texted me."
"Really? What time is it?"
Peter Parker, 9:59pm
I'm so sorry, May!
Peter Parker, 9:59pm
We really lost track of time
"It's currently ten p.m., Boss."
"God. Well, time flies, huh?" Tony remarks, still holding on to the piece of metal in his lap, wrists crossed lightly over the top.
May Parker, 10:00pm
It's fine, honey. I know how you two get sometimes.
May Parker, 10:00pm
Are you staying?
Peter looks up. "May says I can stay here if you okay it." When Tony doesn't respond, he tries again. "So...?"
Tony stares at him for a second before shrugging. "So what?"
"Are you okay with me staying the night?" Peter asks, frowning slightly.
Tony looks taken aback for a second before he laughs. "Of course, Pete. You're always welcome here. You don't need to ask, kid."
Peter smiles at him. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."
Peter Parker, 10:02pm
Yep I am, if that's ok
May Parker, 10:02pm
Of course, sweetie. See you tomorrow xxx
Peter Parker, 10:03pm
See you tomorrow, May! Love you
Peter locks his phone and puts it back on the table, shoving it over to the corner. Tony straightens, taking his arms off the top of the casing and placing it onto the workstation.
"Right," Tony murmurs for a second, before he hands a drill and the required bit to Peter. "Screws here," he says, tossing a near-overflowing box of cross-head screws. "You know where the socket is, right?"
Peter's already under the table, plugging in the drill. "'Course I do, Mr. Stark," he calls, and retreats from underneath the desk.
"Great," Tony says, holding his own drill. "Obviously, drill where there are holes and don't make any new ones. Let's go, shall we?"
Tony lifts the metal and attaches it to the other half of the casing section. It fits in nicely with a clunk, and Peter grabs a couple of screws to put them closer to him as Tony sticks a bunch in his mouth. Peter can't help the snort that escapes him at the sight of Tony with screws protruding haphazardly from his face, and feels a light slap on his arm. Tony mumbles something around the metal that sounds like shut up, kid. Peter just grins, and presses down on the drill's trigger.
By the time they're done, the box of screws only has a couple of bits remaining, rattling around in the empty plastic. Peter's shucked off his hoodie to continue, revealing the pun, and Tony grinned, screws and all. Veronica's casing is finished, and Tony pats it affectionately as he stands up. "Great. She'll run without assistance for a while, I think. Now we've just got to attach it to the rest of the satellite, but I'll do that tomorrow. For now, your lovely aunt will kill me if you go a night without sleep again in this lab."
Peter shrugs. "You're not wrong."
Tony lets out a mock huff. "Honestly, what did I do to deserve this sarcasm, kid?" Peter grins, getting off the chair and joining Tony as he starts walking out of the lab. "FRIDAY, close it down," he says as they push open the glass door and walk out into the corridor. The lights fade into darkness behind them, and they head off to their respective rooms.
Peter's arm hurts, oddly, where Tony pretended to hit him. It's an odd sensation caught between stinging and aching, right where Peter was grazed by the mugger's bullet. He's overcome by a huge yawn when he steps into his room, though, and it pushes the musing on the pain away. Tiredness sweeps over him, and he drifts off.
It's the middle of the night when he wakes, bolting upright, sweating as his breath comes in short gasps and his heart pounds. Fear races across his body for a second before it fades, slipping into the ether just like the nightmare it came from. Peter stays stock-still for a few seconds, panting for breath, hands fisted in his sheets.
"Are you alright, Peter?" FRIDAY's voice rings out suddenly, making him jump. "I'm detecting a significantly increased heart-rate from inside your room."
Peter breathes. In, out. "I'm okay, FRIDAY," he says unsteadily. "I'm fine. Thanks."
"Okay, Peter," FRIDAY answers, and, if he didn't know better, Peter would swear there's a hint of reproach in her tone.
He lays back, letting out a huff as he falls onto the mattress and stares at the ceiling, one hand resting on his forehead. It's just a nightmare. Peter's been having bad dreams since before he became Spider-Man, and he's no stranger to waking up in the middle of the night. This is nothing new.
Peter tries to fall asleep for roughly five minutes before he lets out a sigh and throws off his duvet. He's too on edge to sleep, now, too alert to let himself drift off. He swings his legs out of bed and pads to the door, opening it slowly. He's well aware Tony, and several other Avengers, are incredibly light sleepers. Quietness is a priority; he does not want a repeat of the time he managed to wake up the whole compound by tripping over a trashcan in the hallway. The compound is usually silent at this time, in the early hours when all but the most persistent insomniacs are asleep. Peter creeps carefully through the corridor and into the elevator, and asks FRIDAY to take him to the communal areas.
"Are you sure you're alright, Peter?" she asks, though he's already moving when she asks the question.
"Yeah, FRIDAY, I promise. I'm just hungry," Peter lies.
There's a beat of silence before the lift stops moving and the doors slide open.
"Thanks, FRIDAY," Peter says, hearing the awkwardness in his own voice, and darts out towards the kitchen area.
Tony, being Tony, installed a fridge-freezer of his own design in the kitchen, a tall appliance that reads Stark Industries in bold font across the freezer door. There's an ice machine embedded in the other door, and Peter pulls it open to look in the fridge. He pulls out a carton of milk and takes down a glass from the cabinet, pouring himself a drink. Milk, stupid as though he's sure it sounds, has always helped him sleep. He remembers in vague, sepia-toned snippets the way his mother used to bring him a glass of milk and a hug when he couldn't sleep, fully aware of the occasional struggle to drift away. Peter can't do anything about the hug, but he can damn well drink milk: and, as he finishes the glass, he's already feeling drowsier. He replaces the carton in the fridge and washes the glass quickly, setting it back in the cabinet before he heads back to his room.
He sleeps soundly through the rest of the night.
Peter wakes up late on Sunday, the combination of working in extreme focus for the whole of Saturday and his three a.m. milk run meaning he sleeps in. He darts in to the lab again to say goodbye to Tony, who's decked out in a suit and about to pick up Veronica's casing and put the whole unit back in orbit, before he scoops up his backpack and suits up. Spider-Man swings into action with a bag on his back this time, secured by tight straps. He's made sure it's his most nondescript one, a plain black backpack that's worn by nearly every student at Midtown. He makes his way slowly back to Queens as the day progresses, clearing out crimes as he goes, and he finally reaches home at around five.
May is waiting when he gets back, and she rolls her eyes as she pulls him in for a hug.
"Peter Parker," she says, "how is it that you always manage to lose track of time?"
"Sorry, May," Peter apologizes, though he's smiling. He knows enough to recognize when May's angry, or stressed, but right now she's just amused.
She pulls back, looking straight at him. "What am I going to do with you? You're too clever for me."
Peter shakes his head. "Nah, May. Nobody could do what you do if they weren't clever."
"Oh, psh." May waves a hand at him, eyes crinkling behind her glasses. "You give me too much credit. Did you manage to get your homework done?"
Peter nods. "Yep."
May reaches out a hand to ruffle his hair. "Well done, Pete. What do you want to do? You still have time to patrol, if you want, or..." She trails off slightly, looking him up and down. "You probably do want to go on patrol, don't you?"
"What else were you thinking?" Peter blurts out. "I mean, if I, uh... if I didn't go out?"
"Well," May says, "L'Avventura is on in an hour or so."
Peter grins. Old Italian movies are May's secret weakness. He must have seen Avventura fifty times with her already.
"If we have an hour, I could patrol until then and then... come back?" Peter suggests.
May beams. "Sounds like a plan. Make sure you stay safe, okay?" she reminds him, and Peter nods.
"I will, May. Thank you!" he tells her over his shoulder, already heading back to his room and the still-open window.
"Bye, honey!" she calls as he perches on the edge of the roof, and then he's off.
Karen only picks up word of a couple of minor crimes: a bike thief on 72nd, and a bodega robbery in the same place. The guy trying to hold the store up has a shaky grip on the gun, and nearly drops it when he sees Spider-Man. He's not difficult to deal with. All in all, it's a relatively quiet hour, which Peter's always grateful for. More quiet means less crime, which he can't complain about. He webs his way back to the apartment just as May is turning the TV on, and practically leaps onto the sofa as the movie starts rolling.
Tell me that you love me, Claudia says in Italian.
Sandro fixes her with a look. I love you.
Tell me once more.
"I don't love you," May and Peter proclaim dramatically.
The movie continues regardless of the giggles they devolve into, and eventually the end credits scroll across the screen. May checks the time as Peter yawns.
"You tired, baby?" she asks. "It's only eight."
Peter nods. "Yeah," he sighs. "Don't know why."
May smiles at him. "Go on, then," she acquiesces. "I'll see you in the morning. Night, honey."
"Night, May," he tells her, as is their routine, and he does indeed head off to bed. He figures it's the mentally-active weekend that's worn him out so much.
Peter is just about to climb under the covers when his shoulder catches the light, and the graze is thrown into stark contrast.
"What the hell?" he murmurs.
It's still there, just as prominent as when the bullet first caught him, which is strange enough already. His healing factor should have taken care of it long ago. The more worrying thing, though, is the intricate assortment of lines emerging from the wound. They look almost like magnetic field lines, stretching out from the ends of the tear in his skin to arc around and fuse together again. Peter stares, and rubs at them slightly. Pain spikes through his arm when he touches it, and he recoils slightly.
A sudden wave of exhaustion rolls over him like a suffocating blanket, and Peter blinks slowly as he sways on his feet. God, he needs to sort out his sleep schedule. He reasons to himself that the graze's permanence is probably, at least in part, due to the lack of shut-eye he's been getting. The overwhelming urge to rest washes across his mind, and his feet start moving practically of their own accord as he shuffles over to bed. He's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
He jolts awake half an hour later, breathing panicked once again. Green flashes behind his eyelids, though the dream fades from his mind before he can grasp it. Peter's heart pounds in his ears, thumping heavily. He shuts his eyes, willing his body to calm down, it's just a dream.
He doesn't sleep for the rest of the night.
The rest of the week does not get better. Peter wakes on Monday morning to find a note from May explaining that she's drawn two short straws in a row, being assigned to cover the late night shift and double down to compensate for a pregnant colleague. She'll be away for both mornings and evenings this week, she explains. School is uncharacteristically boring, and Peter finds the glaze of tiredness softening everything he hears. The worst bit is when Mrs. Warren assigns them a veritable mountain of homework, and Peter sees his free evening evaporate like dust at the prospect of so much physics to do. As a result, Spider-Man doesn't emerge. Tuesday is much the same, and Peter has to actively resist the urge to let his eyes drift shut during Calculus. Decathlon practice goes by in a blur; MJ says something snarky at the end that Peter barely registers.
"Are you alright, dork? Even Flash answered more correctly than you did."
He doesn't have a reply, and it ends in MJ walking away with a frown on her face. When he gets home, it's all he can do to dig out the remainder of Mrs. Warren's work. Spider-Man, again, gets pushed to the back-burner.
Peter's insomnia slowly worsens, and he's woken every night by flashes of fear and mist and pain. The nightmares get gradually clearer in his mind; though he's still far from knowing what's in them, vague concepts remain stuck in his memory. He fails to return to sleep after a single awakening, instead lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, wishing he could simply shut his eyes and drift off. Milk stops working, no longer even making him drowsy, on Wednesday evening.
He barely gets through the rest of school. Wednesday passes by in a strained blur, Peter forcing himself to stay awake. Thursday and Friday are worse; MJ takes one look at him when he turns up to decathlon on Thursday and promptly sends him away. Peter stands outside aimlessly for a good five minutes before it sparks in his brain that he probably needs to get home. Spider-Man still doesn't emerge; Peter doesn't have the energy to do anything except lie on his bed, wishing for sleep. When it finally does come, the nightmares tag along with it. Peter wakes up half-yelling on Thursday, and thanks his stars that May hasn't come home yet.
Everything comes to a head on Friday, in the middle of Trigonometry, when Peter's head hits the table with a bang. He sits straight up, wildly dizzy. Everyone twists to look at him, and he realizes he's briefly lost consciousness in the middle of class.
"Mr. Parker?" the professor calls, and Peter blinks dizzily once. Twice.
"Dude!" Ned hisses from next to him. "Are you okay? What's going on?"
"What?" Peter slurs.
"Have you slept at all this week, Parker?" MJ asks, voice surprisingly gentle. The question takes several seconds to register, Peter staring at her while he processes it.
"Yes," he defends, but MJ shakes her head.
Ned turns away from him, facing the teacher again, who's come closer to their desks. "I really think Peter needs to go to the nurse," he says. Peter can't currently recall the name of their teacher; he's a sub for someone else, though he can't think past the foggy block in his head to decide who it is.
"Fine," he says. "Mr. Parker, go with Mr. Leeds. I expect you back in class," he adds, directed to Ned, who nods and stands up.
"C'mon, Peter," Ned encourages quietly. "Let's go."
Ned slings an arm round Peter's shoulders as he gets up, and the world spins disorientingly around them. He registers MJ standing up on his other side, and the teacher frowns.
"Ms. Jones, I'd prefer if you stayed. Mr. Leeds will help Mr. Parker."
"No, I think I'm going to go with them, actually," he hears MJ say flippantly, and then suddenly they're outside the nurse's office. Peter looks around, unsure how they got there so quickly.
The next thing he knows, he's sitting on a white bed in the small room attached to the nurse's office. Ned and MJ have gone.
"Just try and get some sleep, alright?" the nurse is saying, as she puts a small amount of pressure on his shoulders to lay him down. "I'll excuse you from the last few periods of the day."
Peter nods numbly, the exhaustion fogging over everything else in his mind, as she gives him a smile and leaves the room. He lies awake, staring up at the ceiling once again. This time, he supposes the inability to drift off is a blessing; if he had another nightmare here, waking up yelling again, he's sure the nurse would overreact.
When the bell finally rings to signal the end of school, Peter gets up unsteadily and half-stumbles out of the office. The nurse makes a surprised noise as he goes out past her desk and into the corridor, but she doesn't try to stop him. Peter feels like a zombie, half-aware as he trudges through the Midtown halls. Fresh air and bright light hits his face and he squints, looking up. He's on the steps of the school. Peter lets his autopilot take over, trusting the route ingrained in his mind from years of riding transport to reach Midtown to get him home. Loud honking blares from behind him as he walks away.
Suddenly, someone's in front of him, and their mouth is moving. Peter blinks, and they come back into focus.
"...what's going on? You look wrecked," Happy says, frowning at him. "Did you forget you're coming over tonight?"
"I'm... what?" Peter stammers out, words half-slurred.
The expression on Happy's face changes, softening slightly into rare concern. "Let's go, kid. Come on, in the car."
Peter lets Happy lead him back to the car, and the world spins as he drops into the backseat.
"Try and get some sleep on the way, okay?" Happy says, and Peter looks up to see the man twisted round in the driver's seat. He nods dumbly.
The journey passes in a blur. Peter's awake, though whether he can be deemed lucid is another matter. When they reach the Tower, Happy opens the door for Peter, who shuffled out.
"Let me help you in," Happy says, but Peter shakes his head.
"No, it's... it's okay, Happy. I'm okay." Peter doesn't want Happy to baby him. All he's missing is a few hours of sleep. He can handle it.
Happy eyes him suspiciously. "You don't look okay, kid. You sure?"
Peter nods. Happy looks like he's about to protest, and he stares right at the man. "Please, Happy, I promise I'm fine."
Reluctantly, Happy nods, frowning. "Alright, kid. Have a good time."
Peter's already inside by the time it occurs to him he was supposed to reply.
He's vaguely sure that FRIDAY greets him on his way to Tony's lab, but he can't be sure if he's imagining her voice and so he stays silent. Eventually, he gets to the lab. Tony is working on some blueprint, manipulating a three-dimensional lattice of some kind. Peter pushes the door open, and Tony glances round for a second before turning back to move round the projection.
"Hey, Pete," he calls.
Peter mumbles out a hi, Mr. Stark, dumping his backpack on the floor. He takes a second to collect himself, trying to push away the exhaustion seeping through his being.
"Peter."
Peter jumps. "Huh?"
"I asked you how school was," Tony says, arms crossed. He's much closer to Peter now. When did he move?
"Oh," Peter says. His tongue is heavy in his mouth.
Tony is silent for a second. "How much sleep have you been getting, kid?"
Peter shrugs. The energy to respond has left him like flowing water.
Tony sighs. "C'mon, spider-boy. Let's get you into bed."
"No, I'm okay," Peter protests suddenly. He doesn't want to try and sleep. He doesn't want to fail to do so.
Tony's gaze softens, but he comes closer to Peter anyway. "No you're not, kiddo. You need to rest. C'mon, let me help you."
Peter's brain is too muddled to produce another response, and so he stumbles along with Tony towards his room despite his reluctance. Tony helps him get there, the route scattered in his memory, and then he's helping Peter get under the covers.
"Get some rest, kiddo," he says softly, and then he's gone.
Peter succumbs to the exhaustion, and falls into a dream.
He stands in the center of a high-ceilinged room, walls torn through with ragged holes stretching upwards. Mist surrounds him, emerald green. Slowly, Peter registers the creature in front of him.
A nightmare in green stands before him, pale skin and black hair and glowing eyes. Peter freezes, horror filling him. It's vaguely humanoid, though the angles of its body are sharp and the tips of its ears are sharper. The being is wreathed in green flame, the same mesmerizing color as the mist. It takes Peter a second longer to realize it's reaching out for him.
He lets out a cry and twists away, darting backwards, but exhaustion weighs in him like a chain and he can't move fast enough to escape. The creature's claws close around his upper arm and squeeze, and pain rips through him as he screams. He screams, and something inside him recognizes that he's woken up screaming, delirious, the world in a haze as his arm burns and burns. Something bangs and he's shaking, voice hoarse as he cries out and the burning in his arm flares.
"Kid! Kid, shh, it's okay," comes a voice, and somewhere in the back of his mind Peter registers that Tony is talking to him, voice soothing. "I got you, kid. It's alright. You're safe."
Slowly, Peter feels his panic calming as he comes back to himself. He's on the floor, tangled in his duvet, and he's gripping his arm tightly. He exhales and lets go shakily, and his gaze flicks upwards to see Tony's face filled with worry.
"That's it, kiddo," he says gently. "Just breathe."
"I'm sorry," Peter whispers.
Tony shakes his head. "It's okay, Peter. It's alright. Everyone gets nightmares."
"I woke you up."
"It's fine, kiddo. You're the priority. Don't worry about it."
Peter nods numbly.
Tony hesitates, something Peter can't make out flashing in his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks quietly.
Green flames. Pale skin.
Peter shakes his head, and looks down.
Tony swallows. "Sure. Okay." There's another pause. "Have you told anyone you're not sleeping, Pete?"
He shakes his head again and Tony sighs. Rationally, Peter knows it's a sound of worry, but it makes him tense all the same.
"How long has this been going on? The sleep problem, and the nightmares?"
"Saturday," Peter croaks out. The graze on his arm flares in response to the admission and he grimaced, hand moving to cover it automatically.
Tony frowns. "What's up with your arm?"
"Nothing."
The man's expression flattens slightly. "Show me your arm, Peter."
Reluctantly, he lets Tony reach for the arm of his tee. He glances to Peter in a silent ask for permission, and Peter tries to ignore the angry flare of the graze when he nods. Tony pulls up his sleeve to his shoulder, and his face visibly pales. He curses. Peter stares.
The graze is almost worse than the first time he got it, an angry scratch, and there's an arcing design of green and black lines curling around it. It's so much more intricate than the last time Peter looked at it, symbols carved into the spaces between lines. Tony swears again, softly, and readjusts his hold. One of his fingers brushes the mark and Peter cries out as pain lances through him at the touch.
Tony lets go like he's been shocked. "Shit," he mutters. "Pete, we're going to go to the medbay, okay?"
Peter nods, familiar exhaustion stealing over him once again as Tony helps him up and out. He barely hears it as Tony talks to FRIDAY, asking her to monitor Peter's health as he's guided over to the medbay bed. A dial tone fills the room, and Peter's consciousness fades as Tony starts speaking.