"I'll have you know Mr. Stark -"
"Yeah yeah kid," the man on the other end chuckled in such a way that you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Listen - and don't you dare come up with some wishy washy excuse - I got some free time this weekend, shocking right? Anyhow, you up for some tinkering?"
As if the kid himself wasn't constantly hyped up like the Energizer Bunny, Tony just didn't think he could be more elated. Jesus, not even he ever sounded that excited."Mr. Stark, oh man, I mean, are you cool with this? Sorry - I just," Peter took an embarrassed breath, as if he was trying to think on his feet, something he only did when he was about to concoct some bullshit lie. "really don't want to ruin your weekend."
This kid's self esteem drops faster than the stock market, Tony thought, quite tempted to droll joke about it to the kid, but decided against it. In hearing the way Peter held everyone above himself, he got a quick, less than pleasant reminder that this was just a kid. A kid who would happily throw himself into an active volcano for the greater good, though his heart alone represented the greater good.
"Promise you kid," Tony chuckled with the kind of light ease he could only muster around the kid, "it's cool. Happy's got it after school, I'm not quite ready to induce premature strokes on all your fellow nerds." He grinned to himself at that concept. Perhaps he'd actually do it one day, but not while a mere haunted house could send some of these teens into shock.
"Right, right," Peter confirms, a bright lilt still present in his tone. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Yeah, after your.. academic decathlon practice? I think that's what it's called."
"Woah," said Peter, grinning slightly on his end of the phone, just as he hopped himself in a seat inside the ever bustling train of Queens. "You got my schedule memorized?"
As much as he hated to admit it to anyone but himself really, (mind Pepper, who never leaves him alone about it) he had. Unconsciously, but something that still took up a space he didn't think was there.
"Don't get used to it kid." He mutters, his inner self proud for having mildly deflected the question, in the same manner he always did whenever someone wanted to talk about feelings. Numbers and logistics suited him much better, but Peter always earnestly, yet unintentionally prodded at the places he guarded most in about ten seconds flat.
"Already am." Peter says with that beam in his voice before hanging up, the grin still on his face long after he shoves the phone into his bookbag. The train comes to a halt at his stop, (read: another ten gruelling blocks to school) but it felt like no time had passed at all. Time seemed to have that effect whenever he was with Mr. Stark, whether on the phone or in the laboratory or just about anywhere in between that.
Following the cluster of people that leave as well, Peter soon found his street once he got out of the station. Many students other students surround it as well, but only one surly girl amidst the crowd seems to recognize him. Before Peter can even blink twice, their brief eye contact is gone, but that doesn't stop her from approaching him.
Oh shit. It was MJ.
He didn't take notice of it earlier, but it's no longer than five seconds before a poorly seethed (read: quite intimidating) "Loser?" escapes the lips of Michelle Jones.
"Oh, hey MJ," Peter manages to sputter, barely returning, let alone making any solid eye contact with her. Rather, he bounces on his heels in an already failing attempt to take attention away from himself. "What's uh, up?" God, he sounded like an eighth-grader who just touched a girl's sweaty hands for the first time.
Michelle shrugs. "Sky is way too cliche," she says wryly, her eyes briefly looking up before settling right back down on Peter. "So instead, let's settle for you. How's American, white man capitalism treating you? From what I can see, not great for your skin."
Peter blushes nervously, but it wasn't like Michelle was wrong either. As usual, he did a predictably poor job of collecting himself. He was no stranger to the sleepless nights after the Vulture, nor the nightmares that accompanied his less- than-professionally- diagnosed trauma. "Stark Internship is fine I guess," he stammers instead, followed by a less-than-nervous smile. "I just, haven't been getting a whole ton of sleep."
Sure, he wasn't spilling out his heart to Michelle, but he wasn't exactly lying either. Teenage vigilantism had done it's work on the young Peter Parker, so much so that his worries weren't exactly oh god do I have a test tomorrow but rather oh god what if i can't save them all.
Michelle raises a brow, the same way she always does when she's not buying Peter's bullshit.
"Alright," Michelle says, waiting for a beat, allowing Peter's nervous heel-swinging to stop before he takes notice. "What do you do there anyways? Tell Peter, is there just some super-secret to blame for your newfound sleep loss?"
Before Peter can even think of a proper answer, a buzz fills the street and the light on the other side dings, allowing for pedestrians to cross.
As the man himself would have done it, Peter avoids the feelings talk by taking this chance to perform some less than discrete speed walking.
He just barely manages to carry his book bag with one arm, but like always, he manages. Soon taking a turn one he's at the end, Peter can't help but feel just a smidge of guilt. He's always figured that what others don't know won't kill them, but kills him instead.
However, the thought goes as quickly as it came. Spider-Man isn't like this, so why should Peter be any different? Though it's something he's trying to avoid, Spider-Man's life always seems to bleed into Peter Parker's, and with that comes the oh god oh god why can't i sleep why is everything so loud and scary can someone just help wait no no no please-
The relief that comes with bumping into someone comes a little too strong, a little too fast but it's what he needs. It's brief, but it breaks his train of thought, and that's all he could really ask for right now.
The small yet innate part of him, rationalizes that maybe i should tell someone but he shrugs it off as always, just like Spider-Man would. It's worth the suppressing, if it means that the world doesn't have to put up with whatever Penis Parker feels, so that they can instead marvel at Spider-Man, just like they always have.
"You alright man?' Ned took a quick glance at Peter during lunch, noticing that he looked like he had been ran through a Build-A-Bear cotton stuffer, judging by the bags under his eyes and the messy hair that starkly contrasted Peter's usual clean sweep. "You look… spacey."
"Huh?" Peter jolted back up from having almost left the land of the living. "Yeah, yeah I'm good. Did I miss something?" As much as he didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even he could properly run on about four hours of sleep.
"Uh… no? You just look," Ned says, gesturing his hands around the room for added effect. Though he's tried to cut back on the Minute-Peter-Walks-Through-The-Door -Spider-Man prodding, his gut can't help but think that this is one of those rare times he should. "out of it."
"O-Oh uh," Peter stammers for a beat, before glancing at his textbook, then back at Ned once more. "Just… homework. Y'know, Math and all."
"You have like a ninety-eight in Math." Ned deadpans.
"Y-Yeah well," Peter struggles once again to think on his feet, because while he thinks it's all fine and dandy, his best friend is looking at him like there might be room for concern. As Tony Stark himself would have it, he decides to deflect the question once more. "Gotta keep it up, hey- did you get a new Lego Set yet?"
Ned's concern quickly fades at that, soon replaced by one of his nerdy, bright smiles that he reserves purely for Peter and all things Star Wars.
"Not yet, but I hear there's a new one coming out?" He briefly grabs his phone, typing something in before looking once more at Peter. "Yeah, next week."
"Maybe we could go?" Peter thoughtfully recommends, knowing that it'd be absolutely huge for Ned. "May's giving me some allowance this week, so I could probably go…"
Brilliantly hiding his deeply rooted concern for Peter, Ned simply nodded, diverting his attention back to his phone. The last thing he'd ever want is for Peter to feel like he was in an intervention, but upon realizing his best friend was probably running on nothing but soda? That alone was a goddamn flashing, 'pay attention to me' neon red flag.
Besides, if Peter thought that all was well then perhaps it was, right? Ned thought, attempting to rationalize his worry for Peter.
The lunch bell let out a loud buzz at that, (read: ear shattering) and Peter jolted up so fast, so much so that one would think that he was waiting for the bell to ring. Like his usual socially inept self, he merely stumbled to his locker down the hall.
A familiar twinge of drowsiness hit him, but he simply brushed it off as nothing but the cost of patrolling. Not that he regretted patrol one bit, but it often made him all but drop on the floor in a pile of nothing but teenage bones, then proceed to try to fall asleep. Karen nagged him about it too, but he figured that it was nothing.
Karen, MJ, and Ned are probably reading too deep into it anyways, he thought but quickly diverted his attention elsewhere. There was about three hours left, surely he could muster up enough energy for that. After all, the world needed the heroic Spider-Man rather than flimsy, sleep-deprived Peter Parker.
"Hey Peter, how was your calc quiz?" Karen's chirpy voice rang sweetly once he pulled on the mask, followed by the display of his stats within the lenses.
"Fine," Peter yawned, stretching his legs slightly as he began to walk out of the alley, quickly webbing his backpack to a brick wall as he did. "Got anything good for me?" He took a quick glance around the city, but it was easier to just ask Karen.
"Actually Peter, I'd recommend you receive rest. Your blood pressure has increased, along with your heart rate."
Peter's brows furrowed upon hearing that information. He personally thought he was fine.
"Karen, it's fine," Peter yawned out once again, swinging to a nearby building's rooftop in order to get a higher scope. "Really, I'm okay."
"Peter, I am programmed to contact Mr. Stark if you are sleep-deprived," Her once chirpy voice grew concerned, almost worried. "Though I cannot monitor your sleep, my statistics show that you arrive home extremely late, and you often have difficulty concentrating. This is accompanied by your frequent yawning, followed by other signs. Would you like me to continue?"
If Peter didn't know any better, Karen was just about ready to contact Mr. Stark. That was usually her solution for all things Peter.
"No, no no that's fine," Peter glanced down at the street. If he was being completely honest sleep would actually feel pretty good, but the boy with zero sense of self-preservation didn't seem to agree. "Look Karen, I'll take it easy, alright? Just… just don't call Mr. Stark. I can handle it."
The AI didn't seem to respond, so Peter assumed that Karen was cool with it. Before he could elaborate any further on hiding his sleep deprivation from Mr. Stark, he heard a sound, more on the lines of a loud yelp from the alley beneath him.
Nearly instantaneous, he hops down from behind to get a better view of what's going on, and though he falters the landing he figures that this will be gone and done in a manner of five minutes. That is, until he looks up.
Yeah, this isn't gonna be a quick job.
It's a small, middle aged woman, no more than forty at tops- being held exactly at knifepoint, due to the fact that Peter's landing wasn't exactly soundless.
"Help, help oh god-" The woman yelps, but is quickly silenced as the masked man uses his remaining elbow to hit her square in the ribs, causing her to whimper in pain. The masked man roughly whispers something to her, and that appears to silence her.
Though tempted to web him up as he usually would, Peter's concentration falters once more, and it's like he can't think straight. Or think of anything really.
Plus, he doesn't really wanna get the woman hurt either if the man decides to act irrationally, though this is a significant step-up in severity from the usual petty theft or beating up.
"Look man," Peter attempts to rationalize as he thinks on his feet. "I really don't wanna turn you in, you look uh, desperate. I got some change if you need some money pal, I could buy you a sandwich-"
"That's actually not," He gripped his hold on the woman's neck, and Peter must've swore that he heard her swallow down a scream. "what I'm here for."
He had this corruption stained grin, much like Toomes. Maybe this was one of his croons?
"Uh, alright," Peter blurts out in his usually inept manner, webbing away the knife in a mere second. His vision was slightly blurry, but that didn't matter right-
Oh shit.
A deep, sharp almost burning pain quickly began outspread throughout his lower abdomen, followed by gushing blood what the hell-
Turns out he had been flimsy with grabbing the knife, and combined with the speed, strength, and the extraordinary Parker Luck™, he had cut his lower abdomen badly. The knife was also lodged in slightly, so that wasn't ideal either.
Not to mention, his surroundings began to dim slightly in a hazy kind of way, which was strange considering his senses were usually dialed up to eleven or more.
"Whoops," The older man deeply chuckled in a mocking kind of way, as he dropped the woman. "That's just too bad."
Relishing in the few seconds he did have to get away before Spider-Man got up, he took the woman's wallet and was off before Peter could properly stand up. The woman attempted to help out of blind panic, but Peter simply reassured her that he had it under control, telling her that this sort of thing happens all the time.
"It appears you have a severe slice wound," Karen informed him, pulling up his stats. "Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark? I think it's your best course of action."
"U-Uh no, no no god no," Peter croaks out roughly in pain, simply trying to get the knife out."Ah… shi- ah, that's just… great ... "
The blade itself is more serrated than most, so it digs at the surrounding skin as he slowly pulls it out, half-tempted to just suck it up and call Tony. Still, his lack of self-preservation rules that option out as a no-go.
"Would you like to neutralize the bleeding with some webbing?" Karen offers, in that same concerned, kind You-Should-Listen-To-Me tone. "It will not stop the bleeding, but it will minimize it until it can be professionally handled. Contacting Mr. Stark."
Another familiar wave of drowsiness comes on in the midst of his already catastrophic blood loss, but Peter simply can't find the strength to resist it this time. It feels like a soothing lullaby to feel his eyelids shut, as he could no longer really resist the allure of sleep.
Horrible timing too, but it's expected when one has been continually resisting the truth of 'take a goddamn break and rest.'
Though the kid usually wandered off into the goddamn neon red, bright and ugly section of the grey spectrum, Tony liked to think that Peter had a few ounces of common sense when it counted. However un-developed Peter's goddamn frontal lobe was in judgement, (seriously did the spider bite deactivate his critical thinking skills) he tried to steer clear of being a helicopter parent by giving him the benefit of the doubt.
"Incoming call coming from the suit, boss." FRIDAY announced to Tony, who was attempting to brainstorm some improvements for the kid's suit. Peter never really gave him any suggestions other than "the suit is fine mr. stark i swear" so he decided to come up with some of his own.
Truly, the only time the suit alerts Tony is when the universe feels like screwing around with both his heart rate and stress levels in some sick game to see which can burst first. Before he puts the call through, he just takes a sip of his coffee, as if to prepare himself for whatever nonsense Peter has thrown himself into this time.
He sighs. "Put the call through."
"The systems in Peter's suit are currently reporting significant blood loss, and a major cut. Peter himself is currently in the beginning of sleep, not quite in REM yet."
Jesus, this is a step-up from the usual 'hi i fell in a dumpster on the way home to test how far my webbing could go' tomfoolery. Tony could roll his eyes all the way into the back of his brain, but even that wouldn't be enough to comprehend the bullshit the kid has pulled this time.
"Get me coords, Fri." He says coolly, deciding to suit up rather than wait in whatever clusterfuck of traffic New York is suffering. Also, because nine times out of ten the suit alone will jolt Peter back into the land of the living.
It doesn't take long for him to suit up, but holy hell does it take a while to find the kid. To be fair, Happy is much more familiar with Queens than Tony is. He doesn't bother lowering the sound of his thrusters either, in hopes that the sound might return whatever smidge of common sense Peter might've lost. Seriously, did this kid ever consider the logistics of his teenage actions?
Still on the ground when he comes, Tony only has to lightly kick him with his boot for Peter to practically jolt back into life. He takes a few unsteady, albeit much needed breaths before looking up.
"Return of Peter screws the pooch," Tony says dryly, his eyes briefly meeting Peter's. "frontal lobe still very underdeveloped but kid, where are your critical thinking skills? Did you expect to just waltz home, use your Aunt's first aid kit and put a Hello Kitty bandaid on that... thing."He doesn't really know what to call it. It's big, it's ugly, and it's Peter's.
"Oh. Uh," Peter stammers, nonplussed for a moment. "Sort of, I mean.. my healing factor and all.. I just.. just figured it would heal faster."
"Yeah, no. No, no and no. Hate to bust up your teenage invincibility complex kid," Tony steps out of the suit, kneeling down to Peter's level. " but you don't get to be the judge of that. Hell, why did you fall asleep did you begin with? That alone is a goddamn red flag."
Peter glances down at his lower abdomen once more, noticing that the once rampant blood flow has clotted significantly. "It's nothing... really, it's dumb, Mr. Stark."
"Listen kid," Tony says, his voice gruff. "There's really not a version of this where you get to sweep it under the rug. So, spill."
"I haven't.." Peter falters for a beat, embarrassed but more along the lines of feeling weak. It's something that he closely associates with that sick feeling he gets in his stomach whenever someone wants to talk about feelings."haven't been getting a ton of sleep."
"How much are we looking at, kid?"
Peter's eyes divert away from Tony, feeling small under the billionaire's heavy gaze."Uh, about three to four hours a night. Around that."
"Jesus," Tony mutters under his breath, it's truly the classic 'I Think This Is Okay' Peter. "Were you just, not gonna say anything?"
"Uh," Peter stammers, a little unsure of what to say next. "Not really.. I mean, it's okay right? With patrolling and all.. I just figured it was.. whatever."
"Nuh-uh," Tony says, shaking his head in complete and utter disbelief at the fact that the kid thinks this is normal. "Sorry kid, but you don't get to decide that. Look, I really don't care if you do one of those all-nighters for a test or something. That's fine, hell, it's your choice what you do after that. But unless you've got a normal teenager's amount of sleep, you don't get to hit the off button on common sense, got it? That includes patrolling."
The Kicked Puppy Face returns. Peter's body loosens significantly, but the kid looks like he just got lectured all the way into next Tuesday. "Yeah. Uh. Got it," Peter nods, yawning a bit before feeling good enough to stand up. "Church and state, right?"
Tony's brow furrows momentarily, before getting it. He nods. "Uh. Sure, whatever get's the message into that frontal lobe of yours," He gestures to Peter's head with his finger, trying to actually make a point. "Not that I forgot to ask, but how did this even happen?"
Peter's nonplussed speech makes a return, as the embarrassment of it all hasn't quite faded away. (read: probably won't go away until next week) "Well, there was this thing that was just a step-up from your usual dumb theft," Peter answers, a little less anxious. "And this tool- he just, he had this woman at knife point and god- I webbed away the knife, but I couldn't see straight and I couldn't think straight either so.. it ended up cutting me instead."
Recounting the event itself isn't so bad, but Peter's almost half-tempted to pull some self-deprecating joke about it, but it's not exactly the right time.
"Uh-huh," Tony nods, not quite yet convinced that it's the full story. "Anything else causing this?"
"Well..." Peter says as he looks down, the discomfiture colouring his tone with uneasiness. "Nightmares... I guess. Y'know, Vulture, May, my friends. The usual... sometimes it's a mixture of all of them, and sometimes you're in them too. Just.. people I care about, I guess." Peter's eyes well up with the mist of tears for a moment, but he blinks them back in order to look back up at Tony.
Shit. Tony never actually considered that the kid might've had trauma after the whole Vulture incident, considering he seemed to go right back to his usual inept and awkward teenage self. Still, he wants to punch himself and his goddamn brain for not noticing it earlier. Not to mention, it pulls at his heartstrings even more to know that he's an occasional character in the kid's nightmares about the Vulture. Peter might sweep his issues under a goddamn active volcano, but Tony still feels like he should berate himself into next week.
Trying to take Un-Howard approach to this, Tony starts by patting the kid's back and sitting a little closer to him. "Look, kid. This.. this will probably not go away with your... line of work. Alright, that's the bad news. Good news," Tony chuckles a little, looking at Peter directly with a small smile. "You get better. Better at talking about it, coping, all that good stuff."
Peter's lips upturn into a hopeful smile as well, his eyes a little less dim. "Really?"
"Yeah kid," Tony grins a bit now, knowing that it's finally the right time. "PTSD Veteran, for what it's worth. Free, unsolicited advice from someone who's been in the game of nightmares for a while now."
Peter doesn't really say anything back, but the small, hopeful smile on his face is enough to let Tony know more than awkward, stammered on words ever could.
Helping Peter stand up, it's kind of an unspoken agreement already that the kid is going upstate to the compound. May would probably kill him at the mere sight of Peter's wound, and then bring him back from the dead to kill him again once she finds out what actually happened. Probably with her bare hands too.
Peter leans into Tony a little as he stands up, his arm reaching behind Tony and at first he thinks it's because the kid needs help stabilizing himself. After all, he's just survived a goddamn knife injury so-
"This isn't a hug Mr. Stark, I'm just grabbing my backpack from behind you." There's a mocking taunt to it and Tony can't help himself and his apparent cold heart and before he notices fully he just smiles.
He's not sure about the strange feeling in his chest, but it's warm and definitely not a heart attack coming on, so it's probably okay. Perhaps his heart just grew three sizes bigger or there's just an unspoken comfort in knowing that he's not the only one, and that however much Peter disobeys into next year even, he knows that he can always trust him with things like this. Things that make his stomach upset because it's goddamn feelings and heart-to-heart and 'are we gonna braid each other's hair now' sentimentality. Still, as he steps back into the suit to re-engage it, the Little Shit has made room somewhere in a place that Tony didn't think was there, for better or for worse.