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1.
When Peter had been diagnosed with POTS, he honestly hadn’t been very surprised. He kept almost fainting every time he stood up, and about half the time, he actually did pass out. Lately, it had even started happening when he was out as SpiderMan, sometimes in the middle of fights, even against villains who were barely a threat.
He hadn’t told Tony about it yet. He wanted to, but he was afraid. Afraid that if Tony found out, he’d put an end to Peter’s time as SpiderMan for good, call it too dangerous, too risky.
Right now, the only two people who knew were MJ and Ned. Peter was currently sitting between them in chemistry class, or more accurately, slumped between them. His head rested heavily on the table as he half listened to the teacher go on about concepts he already understood.
If May were still alive, she would’ve been the first person he told. No question.
But she wasn’t. And it was only at her funeral that Peter had found out Tony and Pepper had officially adopted him. He had cried a lot that day. But even through the pain and confusion, he’d felt something else, something warm. Gratitude.
He was so deeply grateful for them.
“Mr. Parker. Are you listening to the lesson?” the teacher’s voice suddenly cut through the fog in his mind.
Peter blinked and slowly raised his head to glance up at him. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, not really caring
whether the teacher believed him or not.
“Well, if you were listening, would you mind solving this equation for me?” the teacher replied, narrowing his eyes and gesturing toward the board.
Peter sighed softly. “Sure,” he muttered, rolling his eyes internally as he pushed himself up from his chair.
But he barely made it a single step.
The classroom swam around him. His entire body felt like it had been plunged into heat, and his ears were suddenly filled with a high-pitched ringing. His vision went dark, and his knees buckled beneath him.
The last thing he saw before the world vanished was Ned reaching out to catch him.
When Peter woke up, four faces hovered above him, MJ, Ned, the teacher, and, to his dismay, Flash.
“Oh my God, Peter, are you okay?” Ned exclaimed, eyes wide with panic.
Peter groaned softly as he tried to sit up. His arm throbbed with a dull ache, which probably meant he’d landed on it when he collapsed. Just great. Sometimes, he really hated having POTS.
Ned and the teacher each grabbed one of his arms and gently helped him up from the floor. Peter wobbled slightly, but managed to steady himself, blinking as he took in the classroom. Everyone was staring at him, every single one of his classmates. Some looked worried. Others just looked stunned.
“What happened, Mr. Parker?” the teacher asked, concern tightening his voice. “Should I call your guardian? Do you need to go to the nurse?”
Peter gave a weak shake of his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I just… have low blood sugar or something,” he lied quickly. “If you could maybe get me some juice or something, that’d help.”
He subtly rotated his sore arm, wincing slightly at the sting. It wasn’t anything serious, thankfully, his enhanced healing would take care of it in a few minutes.
“Hmph,” Flash muttered from behind them. “You probably faked it for attention, Penis Parker.”
He stomped back to his seat, glaring at Peter like it was his fault for collapsing.
The teacher sighed but ignored the comment, nodding at Peter before stepping out to get him some juice.
Peter sat down slowly, MJ slipping into the seat beside him while Ned hovered protectively nearby.
“I’m fine,” Peter murmured quietly, more to himself than anyone else. But even as he said it, he wasn’t so sure he believed it.
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
2.
It had now been a few weeks since Peter’s last fainting episode, and for that, he was genuinely grateful. These past few weeks, the worst he’d experienced was dizziness.
Well, only dizziness if you didn’t count the nausea, shaky hands, stomach pain, excessive sweating, heart palpitations, and the general feeling that his body was on the verge of collapsing at all times. But still, no actual fainting. So… progress?
Peter was currently jogging laps around the school track with Ned, his breathing shallow, and his vision already beginning to blur around the edges. He ignored it. They were almost done.
Everything was easier when he was in his SpiderMan suit. Karen, the suit’s AI, could help stabilize his balance, regulate his breathing, and even monitor his vitals in real-time. Without the suit, though, he was completely exposed. Vulnerable.
Normally, Karen would have already alerted Tony by now. But Ned had helped Peter hack her protocols just enough to stop her from sending out automatic health alerts. Peter had felt guilty at first, but he also knew that if Tony found out how bad it had gotten, he’d ground him from being SpiderMan permanently.
“Hey, Pete?” Ned said between breaths, glancing over at him. “How are you even running right now? I read online that people with POTS have trouble exercising and stuff.”
He paused, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear before lowering his voice.
“Actually, scratch that. How are you even being, you know…” Ned leaned in slightly. “Spider-Man?”
Peter didn’t answer right away. They were nearing the finish line now, but he could barely see it. His vision was fading into static, and the familiar ringing was starting in his ears.
“Uh, Karen helps me when I’m in the suit, I guess,” Peter mumbled, pushing himself to keep moving. “And honestly… I’m seconds away from fainting right no—”
He didn’t get to finish.
Without warning, his legs gave out from under him, and he crumpled to the ground, hitting the track face-first.
Everything went black.
When he came to, Ned was kneeling beside him, his face far more panicked than usual.
Peter blinked up at him, squinting at the bright sun overhead. “What’s wrong?” he asked groggily, wincing at the pounding in his head.
“Uhm… Peter. Your nose,” Ned said, grimacing.
Peter furrowed his brow and slowly reached up to touch his face. The second his fingers grazed his nose, he regretted it.
Blood.
Pain.
Yup, definitely broken.
With a groan, Peter let his head fall back against the track. He wanted to melt into the ground and disappear.
“Hey! What’s going on over here?” the gym coach called, jogging over to them.
Ned looked up nervously. “Uh, he fainted. Low blood sugar. And, um… pretty sure he broke his nose.”
Peter let out a muffled groan. “Yup. Sounds about right.”
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
3.
“Hey, fun fact: throwing cars is not considered anger management!” Peter yelled at the massive green lizard currently tearing through the city like a toddler in a toy aisle. Concrete cracked beneath its claws as it roared back at him, loud, wet, and way too close to his face.
“I think he disagrees,” Natasha muttered through the comms, flipping out of the creature’s reach and landing smoothly beside Peter.
“Yeah, well,” Peter said breathlessly, crouching and webbing the nearest flying debris out of the air before it could hit a building, “maybe he should consider journaling instead.”
Another roar echoed off the buildings as the Lizard leapt straight toward them.
“Spidey, move!” Tony barked through the comm.
Peter dodged just in time, barely avoiding being turned into a Parker pancake. He shot two webs and launched himself upward, flipping through the air and landing on a nearby fire escape.
Everything spun.
Just for a second.
He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fuzz from his vision. Not now. Not now.
His heart was pounding way too fast. He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, the tightness in his chest, the familiar dizziness pressing at the edges of his brain like a warning siren. He swallowed hard, trying to breathe through it.
“Spidey, report,” Tony said again.
Peter opened his mouth, but before he could speak, his knees buckled beneath him. The world tilted hard to the left, and then everything went black.
He came to with bright sunlight stabbing into his eyes, his mask slightly askew, and something cool pressed against his forehead. For a second, he was almost able to convince himself that he was back at home, waking up late for school.
Then he realized he was lying on the sidewalk.
With Tony Stark kneeling beside him.
“Oh no,” Peter groaned.
“There he is,” Tony said flatly. “Sleeping on the job again, kid?”
“I wasn’t!” Peter tried to sit up quickly, but immediately regretted it. The world spun again, and he swayed, groaning. “I wasn’t sleeping, I just, uh, low blood sugar! Yeah. I skipped breakfast. Rookie mistake. Won’t happen again.”
Tony didn’t say anything. He just looked at Peter.
Really looked at him.
Peter tried not to fidget under the gaze of the man who could basically see through lies like they were made of glass.
Tony handed him a bottle of water. “You’re shaking.”
“Yeah, well, giant lizard and all. Adrenaline. Totally normal.”
“Mmhmm.” Tony didn’t sound convinced. “You’ve been looking pale for weeks. You fainted last month in the lab, and you told me it was from sitting too fast.”
“It was!” Peter said quickly, too quickly. “Sitting is a very dangerous activity. Very underrated threat level.”
Tony just raised an eyebrow.
Peter took a long drink from the water bottle, avoiding his eyes. “I’m fine, really. Just. just a little dehydrated. I think I was sweating too much. And I haven’t slept well. And also the sun. And global warming. Probably.”
“Global warming, huh?”
“Yeah. Huge issue.”
Tony gave him another long look, clearly not buying it. “I’m sending FRIDAY your vitals from today. You’re not hiding something medical from me, are you?”
“No! Noooo. Nope. Totally healthy. Like, glowing with health. I’m basically a human protein shake.”
Tony sighed and helped him up. “You’re a terrible liar, kid.”
Peter didn’t say anything. He just leaned a little too hard on Tony’s arm as he stood, silently begging the world not to spin again.
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
4.
Peter sighed as he and MJ sat in their usual corner booth at the café, both hunched over homework, a half-empty strawberry smoothie between them. The table was cluttered with notebooks, pens, and MJ’s color-coded flashcards, which Peter had mostly ignored in favor of doodling tiny spiders in the margins of his math worksheet.
He leaned back in his seat, rubbing at his eyes. “This smoothie’s the only thing keeping me alive right now.”
MJ smirked without looking up. “That and my endless patience.”
Peter gave a tired chuckle, though his legs had already started to feel numb from sitting too long. His heart rate had been acting weird again, too fast when it shouldn’t be, like it was trying to run a marathon without him.
“Pancakes?” MJ asked, glancing at him. “You should eat something solid.”
He hesitated for a second, debating how stable he felt.
“Yeah,” he said finally, pushing his chair back. “Could use some syrupy carbs.”
“Slowly,” MJ warned, already closing her notebook and watching him closely.
Peter gave her a small smile and a mock salute. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”
He stood carefully, forcing a casual air despite the way his vision flickered at the edges. He took one step toward the counter. Then another.
Then the floor tilted under him.
His heart lurched.
He stopped walking, blinked hard, and swayed, then collapsed without a word, his knees hitting the tile before he crumpled forward.
“Peter!” MJ was by his side in seconds, hands already checking his pulse, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead.
He blinked groggily up at her, his face pale, breath
shallow. “Ugh. Did I… faint again?”
“Yep,” she said, voice tight with worry. “Hard. You nearly took out the table on your way down.”
“Nice.” He tried for a weak grin. “Very stealthy of me.”
“Totally.” MJ rolled her eyes, even as she helped ease him onto his back and tucked her jacket under his head. “A+ for dramatic flair. You want me to call Tony?”
Peter’s eyes widened instantly. “No. No, please. Not yet.”
“Pete—”
“I can’t,” he whispered, blinking up at her. “If he finds out, he’ll bench me. For real this time.”
MJ sighed, pulling the smoothie toward him and holding the straw near his mouth. “Then you need to stop pretending you’re okay when you’re not. This isn’t just a ‘skip breakfast’ kind of thing anymore.”
“I know,” he mumbled, taking a slow sip. “I just… I want to handle it myself. Just a little longer.”
MJ didn’t answer right away. She just sat beside him on the floor as the café staff quietly gave them space, used to their presence by now.
After a long pause, she said softly, “You don’t have to prove anything, Peter. Not to me. Not to Tony.”
Peter closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. “Maybe not. But I need to prove it to me.”
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
5.
Peter adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt for the fifth time, tugging at it like it was actively trying to strangle him. He was standing behind Tony on the raised platform, just slightly off to the side with Happy and a few other interns, pretending like he belonged there. The conference room was packed, reporters, cameras, flashing lights, and the heat from the crowd, combined with the bright lights, was starting to feel suffocating.
Tony was at the podium, answering questions with his usual effortless charm, tossing out witty comebacks and dodging political landmines like it was a game. Peter tried to focus on the words, but everything around him had started to feel fuzzy. Too loud. Too hot.
His heart was racing.
Not in a “I’m nervous to be near Tony Stark during a press conference” way, but in the “something-is-seriously-wrong” kind of way. The dizziness was creeping in faster than usual, his body going heavy, ears ringing, and vision beginning to darken at the edges like ink spilling across a page.
He tried shifting his weight. Then locking his knees. Then unlocking his knees. Nothing helped.
The last thing he remembered was gripping the back of Happy’s chair.
Then, black.
Peter came to seconds later on the floor behind the platform curtain, blinking up at the blinding ceiling lights. Someone had dragged him behind the scenes, out of the public view.
“Hey, hey, kid. You with me?” Happy’s voice cut through the static.
Peter groaned, slowly sitting up. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good. Just… low blood sugar again.”
“You sure?” Happy asked, brows furrowed. “You dropped like a brick. No warning.”
“Totally fine,” Peter said, forcing a weak smile and brushing Happy’s hand away as he tried to help him up. “I, uh… forgot to eat breakfast. Rookie move. Classic Parker mistake.”
Happy stared at him for a long second. “I’m getting Tony.”
“No!” Peter said sharply, louder than he meant to. “No, seriously, I’m fine. I just need some juice or something. He doesn’t need to know. He’s literally in the middle of a press conference.”
“And you’re literally in the middle of passing out,” Happy said.
“I’m okay. I’ve got super healing, remember?” Peter forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “My body just… takes a minute sometimes. I’ll sit in the back for the rest of it. No big deal.”
Happy looked unconvinced, but reluctantly let him go. Peter shuffled off to a quiet chair behind the stage curtain, sipping the bottle of orange juice someone handed him and pretending like everything was fine.
But even as he sat there, head pounding and hands trembling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was running out of ways to keep this secret.
And he had a sinking suspicion Tony already knew.
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
+1.
The city was quiet for once. No blaring sirens, no explosions. Just the hum of New York traffic in the distance, the occasional barking dog, and the gentle breeze tugging at Peter’s hoodie as he crouched on the edge of the rooftop.
His muscles ached, his fingers trembled against the worn brick, and his heart was hammering in his chest at a speed he couldn’t ignore anymore. He’d swung one block too far. Just one extra patrol. One more sweep. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but the world was tilting around him now like it was on a slow moving carousel.
He sat back, legs folded awkwardly beneath him, trying to breathe through the wave of heat and nausea crashing over him.
He blinked hard.
Then again.
Darkness was creeping in. His limbs felt disconnected, like he was underwater.
And then
Nothing.
Peter came to slowly, blinking against the soft overhead lights. His mouth was dry. His arms ached. The worst part was the pounding in his chest. followed
closely by the weight of someone staring at him.
He turned his head to find Tony sitting nearby, arms crossed, face unreadable.
Peter immediately groaned and turned the other way. “Oh no.”
“Yeah,” Tony said, voice sharp but quiet. “Oh no is right.”
Peter sat up, swaying slightly. He was in a medbay. Stark Tower’s. His mask had been taken off. He was in a hospital gown. Crap.
“How long was I?”
“Too long.” Tony stood, and Peter could see it now, the rigid set of his shoulders, the storm behind his eyes. “You collapsed on a rooftop. Lucky for you, i was outside and saw you, and was able to catch you before you fell off the roof. Unlucky for you, i found you..”
Peter flinched, shame rising in his chest like bile. “I’m fine now, though.”
“Don’t.” Tony’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t even try it.”
Peter froze.
Tony took a slow step forward. His voice was lower now. Controlled, but furious. “Do you know how it feels to find you passed out on a rooftop? To see your heart rate crashing and your blood oxygen dropping, and not know why? To realize you’ve been hiding something from me, again?”
Peter didn’t answer.
Tony ran a hand through his hair. “I did a full scan. Cross-referenced symptoms. Spoke to Banner. POTS, Peter? You’ve been fainting for months, haven’t you?”
Peter bit his lip and looked away. “…I didn’t want you to bench me.”
Tony stared at him. “So you lied. Let yourself pass out in public. Took fights while knowing you were seconds away from blacking out.”
“I didn’t lie,” Peter said quietly. “I just didn’t tell you.”
“Same thing,” Tony snapped. “You don’t get to play with semantics when your body is shutting down mid-mission!”
Peter’s eyes stung. “I thought I could handle it.”
Tony knelt in front of him, not angry now, just hurt. “And what if you couldn’t? What if I hadn’t found you? What if it was a rooftop next time, or a subway track, or midair during a swing?”
Peter didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Tony sighed and stood, pacing for a moment. “You’re not getting kicked off the team. You’re not losing the suit. But things are changing, kid.”
Peter looked up quickly. “Wait-”
“You’re getting a modified suit. One that monitors your vitals closely and can deploy stabilizers if needed. And if FRIDAY flags anything off, I get alerted. No more hacking her. You’re not smarter than my AI.”
“I wasn’t trying to be smarter-”
“You were trying to be alone,” Tony interrupted. “And you’re not. Not anymore. You hear me?”
Peter nodded silently, guilt thick in his chest.
Tony’s voice softened. “You scared the hell out of me, Pete.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Peter whispered. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”
Tony exhaled like someone had punched him in the gut.
“You’re never a burden,” he said, quieter now. “You’re my kid.”
Peter blinked, caught off guard.
Tony cleared his throat and added, “Honorary. But still.”
A pause. Then Peter finally smiled weakly. “So… no grounding?”
“Oh, you’re grounded,” Tony said. “Just medically. Until your cardiologist clears you.”
“You’re gonna make me see a cardiologist?”
“Yup. And drink fluids. And eat salty snacks. And rest. And if you don’t follow that plan, I’m gluing you to the medbay.”
Peter flopped back dramatically onto the pillows. “This is worse than death.”
Tony smirked. “Good. Means you’re alive.”