Chapter 4: Spiralling Downwards
It's like being stuck in a nightmare while you're awake. It isn't real and nothing can actually hurt you, but you don't know that at the time. In the moment, everything is so terrifying that you don't even consider the option of it not being real. Peter knows he's not actually being pinned down by a building, but he can feel the weight on his entire body. It feels so real and he can feel everything as if it were happening all over again. He doesn't even have his homemade suit this time. He has nothing. No one. His head pounds as if it's going to explode and he can't help but grip his head. It's the only movement he can manage. Everything just needs to stop…Please just stop. I can't do this anymore. The pain, the weight, it's too much. I can't I can't I can't I can't…
"Peter?" Tony asks when he notices him holding his head, but Peter can't hear him. Everything's too loud and his senses can't handle it. Peter suddenly drops to the floor on his hands knees, breathing fast and erratically. He feels like he's going numb and disappearing beneath the weight. Tony's heart practically leaps out of his chest when he sees the teenager crumple to the floor. He scrambles to keep Peter from falling onto his side. "Easy, easy, just…shit, breathe." Peter subconsciously flinches at his voice, so Tony presses his hand against Peter's ear to block out the excess noise. Tony starts to panic too. How is he supposed to comfort a kid who's freaking out? Peter can't be having an panic attack. It's not possible. He can't…he can't be like him. Tony holds Peter to his chest, hoping that the kid can feel his breathing.
Peter feels as if he's pinned. He can't move, can't breathe, can't do anything. But then he starts to feel warmth. There's another type of pressure…but it's gentle and comforting. He grips it as if his life depends on it and curls in on himself. If he makes himself as small as possible, maybe the pain will disappear when he does. But…he doesn't want to leave the warmth. He doesn't want to be selfish, but he can't be alone again.
"It'll be okay, Pete, but I need you to breathe. God, if you ever listen to me once in your life, do it now. C'mon kid." Mr. Stark? Why does he sound worried? I haven't ever heard him sound anything other than smug and egotistical. It's then that Peter notices the burning in his chest and the shaking of his body from head to toe. His eyes are clamped shut and his ears have something soft pressed against them. Everything sounds muffled, but Tony's voice is as clear as day. I'm safe. I'm here, at the Tower. I'm okay and I'm not going anywhere. Once he doesn't feel the harsh pressure anymore, he's finally able to gasp in a breath. His chest is sore, but the rush of air makes it worth it. "Thank fuck," Tony mutters under his breath. He hadn't realized he had gotten so worked up over Peter's sudden collapse.
Peter begins to feel light movement on his back and quickly realizes that Tony is rubbing comforting circles on it. He doesn't know whether to feel relaxed or mortified that someone like Tony Stark has to deal with him. As his senses become sharper, he figures out that he's sitting on the ground and Tony's doing the same next to him. It takes a few more moments to notice that he's leaning into Tony, instantly making him feel more embarrassed. Tony's sleeve is pressed to his exposed ear while his other ear is pressed into his mentor's chest. After the rush of adrenaline finally leaves his system, the tremors set in.
"You're, you're lucky that Captain America isn't, isn't here. I've heard how much, how much he doesn't like bad language." Peter tries to cover up his shaking with humor, but Tony doesn't laugh. He doesn't even chuckle.
"How are you feeling?" Peter can't handle his concerned tone. It's so unlike Tony to sound concerned. It doesn't feel right. It makes Peter's stomach twist to think that he caused this. He tries to open his eyes to read Tony's face, but as soon as he does, the fluorescent lights above them feel like they sear his eyes. He gasps painfully and slams his eyes shut again.
"The mask, the mask," are the only words he can force out as he covers his eyes with his hands. Tony's body shifts, but then he says,
"I can't reach it. I'm going to have to get up, but I'll be quick." Peter slightly nods, just wanting the mask as fast as possible. However, when Tony gets up, Peter's body feels cold again. That isn't the worst part, though. Tony's sleeve and chest leave his ears, causing a bombardment of clanking and whizzing from around the workshop to slam into his eardrums all at once. Peter holds back a scream by biting his cheeks and curling into a ball on his side. A soft fabric brushes against the back of his hand and he grips onto it as Tony leans his back against a metal desk. Peter quickly pulls the mask onto his head and the majority of his senses are immediately lowered. The once ear piercing noises are dulled to be manageable and the amount of light the mask lets in is reduced to almost zero. Overstimulation hasn't bothered him that much since his first week following the spider bite. He takes in a long, shaky breath in an attempt to calm his trembling body.
"I'm okay. I'm okay." Peter's voice isn't much above a whisper, but it isn't meant for anyone besides himself anyways.
"I'm going to have you spend the night here," Tony insists after a few minutes of Peter whispering encouraging words to himself. Peter looks up at him, his words not quite registering.
"What? But why? I can, I can have May pick me up. It's not a problem, Mr.-"
"Oh don't even start with me kid," Tony interrupts, his voice shifting from patient to dead serious. "This is definitely a problem. In fact, when you have an panic attack in my tower it becomes my problem. Who the hell am I kidding, you're already my problem. Keep pulling these stunts and you'll drive me to an earlier grave. Christ, I sound like my father." Peter can't help but smile to himself, grateful that Tony can't see it. He hasn't heard Tony ramble like this before and it's kind of comforting to see the human side of him come out. Then, Peter's mind goes over what he said again.
"Panic attack…? I know what they are but, but that couldn't have been one. They're caused by, by traumatic stuff right? Like, when someone close to you dies or…" Peter searches his brain for other possible reasons, but it isn't cooperating. The only experience he has ever had with panic attacks was when May would get them after Uncle Ben died.
"Or when you almost die. Anything traumatic can trigger them, it isn't only monumental things. In fact, trauma doesn't always cause them either," Tony informs. "What happened last night, however, that can definitely cause them." His voice is calm and soft, since he's slightly cautious about triggering another response from Peter.
"It wasn't the first time…" Peter whispers. It sends shivers up his spine. He doesn't want to worry Tony, but he just can't hold it in anymore. Harboring the memory alone is too heavy and he needs to have somebody else who knows. He thought he could, but he can't do it alone anymore.
"What?" Tony asks incredulously, but Peter frantically shakes his head. Peter wants him to know, but for him to talk about it right after what just happened? When all that caused him to spiral down was a few words? It's just not the right time. "Alright, we'll talk about it later. Why don't you stay for the weekend? We'll work everything out and have some superhero bonding time." Peter can tell he's desperately trying to lighten the mood, so he doesn't oppose.
"I'm gonna call May to let her know." His voice is raspy and it takes every ounce of his energy just to speak.
"Alright, Underoos." Tony offers a slight smile before helping Peter stand and awkwardly guiding him over to one of the couches. He gives Peter some privacy by cleaning up some tools in the corner. As soon as Peter gathers the courage to call May, he speaks up.
"Karen?"
"I'm already on it, Peter." May's contact picture pops up and he smiles. What would he do without Karen? It takes a few rings, but May answers like she always does.
"Hey handsome, you alright?" her cheerful voice answers and, for some reason, Peter can't help the tears that well up in his eyes.
"Hey Aunt May," he mumbles, trying to think of what exactly he wants to say. He decides that the truth is the best way to go with this one. "Is it alright if I stay up here for the weekend? I had a bit of a…problem? I guess?"
"Baby, what's wrong?" she questions, suddenly sounding protective. "Do you need me to come get you?"
"No no no, I promise I'm okay. I just had a blood sugar issue and Mr. Stark wants to monitor it over the weekend. It was his idea, actually." Okay, partial truth isn't better than the whole truth, but it is better than a complete lie. May takes a deep breath.
"Alright, but if anything happens, you or Stark call me. Understand? And no out-of-the-country field trips like Germany." Her voice is stern, but Peter couldn't agree with her more.
"Yeah, May. I won't be going anywhere. I love you."
"I love you too." Karen ends the call and Peter rests his head in his hands. This isn't exactly what he had planned for the weekend. He distantly thinks about calling Ned too, just to keep him in the loop. He'll freak out when he hears Peter is staying at the Tower for the entire weekend.
"Ready to head up?" Tony speaks up. It might be better to call Ned somewhere private so that Tony doesn't hear Ned gushing over the situation. "I got some leftovers up in the penthouse fridge. You're gonna sit and eat until it looks like I've done spring cleaning," he practically orders Peter. Seeing as Peter is in his tower while previously working on a suit that he made him, he decides to listen to Tony. Peter slowly gets up, careful not to show how tired he feels, and follows Tony to the elevator.
The ride up is silent and tense. Peter can't help but go over the last fifteen minutes in his head and feel beyond embarrassed. Just the thought of Tony having to snap him out of an panic attack instead of doing something more productive is mortifying. His hands self consciously hold his elbows as he torturously waits until they reach the penthouse. When the doors open, Tony strides out with his hands in his pockets and Peter stares at the room with wide eyes. He can't even call it a room it's so gigantic! The penthouse has its own bar to the far left and a massive glass wall to the right that overlooks the city. At the center there's a sitting area with some sort of metal pipe art piece hanging above it. He'll never understand the point of modern art. A large wrap around couch with what must be more than twenty seats encases a coffee table another two chairs. This room alone is bigger than his entire apartment.
"Woah, this is insane!" His eyes dart around the room in awe, quickly taking everything in as if it'll disappear any second.
"Hm?" Tony hums, completely oblivious to Peter's astonishment. "Oh. Yeah, penthouse sweet penthouse." He turns around to smirk smugly at Peter.
"Well, aren't you all that and a bag of chips?" Peter challenges as he steps out of the elevator as well.
"I'm the whole damn snack aisle, kid. So," Tony walks over to the bar and opens a mini fridge, "what do you feel like?" Peter's eyes instantly widen and his cheeks heat up against his will.
"Mr. Stark, I'm sixteen! I can't, I can't have alcohol!" he exclaims in disbelief. How could Tony even think of offering him alcohol?!
"Jesus Christ," Tony mutters and pulls out various takeout boxes. "It's leftovers. You really think I'm that irresponsible? I mean I know I'm pretty bad, but I'm not that bad. Besides, I doubt your metabolism would even let you get drunk. Thankfully." Peter doesn't think he has ever felt so embarrassed in his entire life. His face might spontaneously combust. Tony puts each of the boxes into the microwave as Peter silently inspects the penthouse. "Peter," Tony pulls Peter's attention back. Peter's eyes snap to him as Tony rubs his forehead with his thumb. in frustration
"Yeah, Mr. Stark?"
"You're allowed to sit," Tony says as though it's painfully obvious.
"Oh, yeah. Right." Peter walks over to the bar, but stares at the stool in front of him. "Am I legally allowed to sit here or…?"
"Kid."
"Right." Peter sits down and waits for the food to be ready. Tony places three plates of different types of food in front of him. Peter picks up his fork, suddenly eager to eat, when Tony clears his throat. Tony gestures to the mask that's still covering Peter's face. Wow I feel stupid . Peter slowly takes off the mask to see if his senses can handle it, and he's happy to find out that he can bear to have it off. "Thank you!" is all he says before digging in. He definitely didn't realize how hungry he was because it feels like his stomach is a bottomless pit. Tony, satisfied that he's finally getting some food in the pale, skinny kid, eats some food of his own behind the bar.
"How you feel?" he casually inquires. Peter nods.
"Better," Peter answers after swallowing to avoid talking with his mouth full. As they eat in silence, Peter can't help his wandering mind from thinking about patrol. How can he patrol while spending the weekend at the Tower? He can patrol over here but he'll have the time to do it, right? An onslaught of insecurities and worst case scenarios overwhelm him. Mr. Stark will let me be Spider-Man, won't he? He won't…he won't keep me from it like last time? He won't take the suit? "Hey, what times can I patrol this weekend? Y'know, I'm sure you'll be busy so I can just go at my normal hours right? I'll be in touch with Ned and I still have Karen so-"
"No." Tony holds up a single finger, immediately making Peter go silent. "You're going to eat your food before we talk about anything Spidey related. I don't want so much as a peep before at least two plates are empty." Peter's temporary relief from anxiety is dearly missed when Tony doesn't agree. Peter has to go out patrolling. It's one of the only things he looks forward to. He bounces his leg nervously as he eats at a slower pace than before. I already get less patrol time on Friday afternoons to work here on the suit, but now I have to miss tonight and the rest of the weekend? What if something happens? What if there are people out there that'll get hurt because I'm not there? Then it's my fault. It's on me.
" Peter ." Peter sucks in a breath and looks up at Tony. Tony looks down at Peter's hand, then back up to his eyes. Peter follows Tony's eye movement. Peter has accidentally bent the metal fork against the plate with his super strength…
"Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark I'm so sorry! It was an accident!" Peter quickly bends the fork back into its shape, but it still looks a bit weird.
"Relax. It's just a fork." Peter's breath hitches. I can't believe I just apologized to a billionaire for a fork. You're such a screw up, Peter. "I'm not worried about the fork I'm worried about-" Tony abruptly stops and rubs his forehead. "Just don't overthink anything. No overthinking. All I want you to do right now is eat. Got it?" Peter slowly nods, not quite keeping up with his mentor's lightning fast train of thought. Tony swears this kid will be the death of him if aliens don't beat the kid to it. It doesn't take long for Peter to finish the rest of the food and, for what feels like the first time in forever, he's actually full.
"I'm done, Mr. Stark," he mumbles, feeling like a little kid at the dinner table asking to be excused. Except it's a bar in a multimillion dollar building and Tony isn't his…parent. Tony looks at the empty plates and clasps his hands together.
"Nice work, kid. Bedtime! I'll show you your room for the weekend. It'll be on the same floor as mine 'cause I don't trust you enough for you to not sneak out. You're old enough to not need a bedtime story, right? 'Cause I don't do those." Has he lost his mind or is this why he hasn't ever had kids?
"It's eight o'clock. I don't go to sleep for at least four more hours."
"Ah, that's where you're wrong." Tony walks out from behind the bar and claps his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I got every ounce of data out of your suit. You're getting a full night's rest if it kills me, and that means at least eight hours of it. Might as well get an early start." He releases Peter's shoulder shows him to the room he'll be staying in. It's a typical guest room, minus the fact that it's three times the size of Peter's own room, with little to no furniture and a bed against the wall. There isn't anything personal in the decorating and it doesn't look like anyone has ever stayed in the room. It might sound a bit dumb, but it makes Peter sort of nervous to be sleeping somewhere knowing that May is somewhere else. He has lived the majority of his life knowing that she was right down the hall from him and that she would come in a heartbeat if he called for her. She'd probably still come here in a heartbeat, but he wouldn't bother her like that.
"I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Mr. Stark."
"G'night, kiddo." Tony closes the door behind him and Peter is left to himself for the first time since school got out. It feels both relieving and lonely at the same time. Why does being a teenager have to be so complicated? With a heavy sigh, he pulls out his spare set of gym clothes to change into. Mr. Stark needs to give me more of a heads up when he decides on something like this. I have no change of clothes, no pajamas, and no toothbrush! Not cool.
After he changes, he decides that now's a better time than ever to give Ned a call. He can't help but wince at all the text messages from Ned that he has failed to answer in the last few hours. When he calls Ned, his best friend answers after the first ring.
"What happened to patrol tonight?! Is everything okay?!" Ned questions frantically.
"Yeah man, everything's good. Slight change of plans though."
"When you say something like that, it doesn't make me think things are actually 'good.'" Peter's sure that if he could see Ned, he'd be making air quotes right now.
"I'm kind of spending the weekend at Stark Tower?" It comes out as more of a question, but despite Peter's uncertainty it's enough to send Ned into borderline hysterics.
"The whole weekend?! At the tower?! With Tony Stark?! I can't believe you're having a sleepover with Iron Man !" Peter can't help but laugh at Ned's enthusiasm.
"Ned, slow down. Yes, I'm spending the weekend but it's purely Spider-Man related. He wants to make sure I'm healthy enough to stay on patrol."
"You are, right?" Peter falls silent. Am I?
"Of course! He just wants to run a few tests. Like a checkup at the doctors."
"Oh yeah, just like the doctors. I would freak if my doctor were Tony Stark. I wouldn't want to avoid my checkups so much then." They both laugh and continue to chat for a while. It's around 9:30 pm when they finally decide Peter should get some sleep before Tony blasts down the door in the Iron Man suit. After they say their goodbyes, Peter does his best to drift off into a deep, restful sleep.