Peter shook up the last of the concoction he was making. It was the last approximated batch of the thirium they needed to manufacture for Connor to awaken from his comatose state. It had been a week or so since he'd first initially found out about the situation, and honestly there was a list of questions he had compiled for Connor to answer about the situation, mainly being who the hell had made him, who was cyberlife?

There was no real way of knowing, just yet, who exactly Connor was and why whoever made Connor thought that it would be a good idea to place him around the Avengers. There was a set of possibilities that raced through Peter's anxiety fuelled mind. He was no Tony, but Peter hadn't had a wink of sleep in a few days, furiously trying to find the exact right conditions that the Thirium he was making would flourish in.

The microorganisms weren't really agreeing with the batch of toxic Thirium, when Peter finally found that he just had to freeze the microorganisms to severely slow down their metabolism so that the integration with the rest of the chemical formula wouldn't really be a hinderance to the process.

Pouring the last drop of Thirium into an IV drip bag, Peter felt his heart beat faster and faster with each passing moment, each second ticking closer to the time of Connor's awakening. It was still a wild card on how Connor was going to regain consciousness, and if it was going to be like dropping your phone, would data be lost in the process of breaking and fixing Connor? What would he last remember if so?

Peter tried to not focus on these variables but was finding it harder, with his hands getting sweaty, making Peter almost fear dropping the carefully produced Thirium. He took in the look of Connor's clammy features through the vacuum sealed, temperature controlled glass casing he was situated in.

It was almost like looking at a corpse, and reminded Peter of a not too distant situation he had found himself in a while back. Aunt May. He couldn't help but pull up the parallels of the bodies. Both lifeless, eyes like glass, face frozen in expression. His hand's were shaking, but he'd noticed it far too late, and when he did he was already on the ground, trying to control his gasping breathing.

It was almost like drowning, except he wasn't. Except he shouldn't be drowning. He should be strong. Gasping for air like he was going to die if he didn't, he kept on taking in breaths but none of it was enough, it was like none of it was getting into him. He could feel every inhale filling up his chest, but couldn't feel the release.

These kinds of sudden attacks that left him on the floor feeling like an idiot hadn't been isolated incidents, and had been frequent. Peter knew the signs, even recognised them, but had ignored them for a while, reasoning that these kinds of things couldn't happen to him. They couldn't happen to Spiderman, who was supposed to be strong. The Spiderman wasn't meant to sit there helpless having panic attacks.

Peter collected his thoughts once he was calm enough to see clearly. He looked to his left, thankful to see that the IV bag containing his hard work had, in fact, not split on impact of dropping to the ground. His breathing was still quite erratic, so he turned on Spotify, and listened to a playlist that he'd composed a while back, using his Ironman earphones Tony had bought him a week prior.

After playing through a few songs, he'd finally stood back up on the third track. Peter checked the track title, Not Too Late by Lemaitre. It was a pretty okay track, not the best he's ever heard but still nonetheless gave him goosebumps every time he's heard it. Something in that song just simply resonated with him.

It had a catchy beat, and a meaning he could relate to and understand. He'd listened to it enough in the past few days that he could sing the song, without needing to look at any lyrics. All to soon the song ended, and his Spotify froze, probably due to a loss in internet connection for some reason. Damn the free phone version. He'd have to ask Mr Stark for premium, later.

Peter was certain the height of his panic attack was over, and was almost contempt with ignoring his symptoms for as long as he could get away with it. He bent over to pick up the IV bag, and then made his next mistake, looking over at Connor once again. A wave of nausea came over him, almost enough to knock him back to the ground again. The shortness of breath came back, this time less severe, but occupied with a pounding headache and a mass of white spots threatening to take over his vision.

"Pete." He recognises the voice, although it sounds distant, the feeling is warm. The silhouette of the person faintly lets Peter know it's Mr Stark. Peter can't find it in himself to try and respond to that properly with words, coming out in slurs, as if he were drunk.

"Quuuuu-" He frowns, trying to look for the word again. "Questo, m-mio nome…? [1]" He's faintly aware that it doesn't make any sense, but is hoping that Mr Stark would get the gist of what he was trying to say. Even in Italian, the language he's more fluent in, everything makes more sense in his head than when he says it out loud. He's distantly aware of the warm arms that engulf him.

"Sono qui ora, Pete. [2]"

He's sitting there an eternity, his dull feeling in his limbs slowly returning, with his heart rate slowing, and breathing becoming more evened out. There's a hand, that presumably belongs to Mr Stark, that's tracing circles along his shirt sleeve, it soothes him, as the gentle touch would soothe an infant. Mr Starks saying something, that Peter reckons he could understand if he strains his mind a bit more to simply just process the things he hears, but he doesn't, opting for the choice of placating dull noise.

They were just sitting in the common room when Jarvis alerted to them that Peter had fallen and hadn't gotten up for a while, suggesting that it may have been a panic attack. Tony knew quite a bit about panic attacks, and had certain experiences with them before… in the past.

Bruce had gotten up immediately, following Tony down into the Lab. Tony wasn't aware that Peter had decided to continue working on the Thirium solution, without his supervision despite their agreement be that he'd be there in the lab with him at all times. He'd found Peter mumbling in broken Italian, that had made no sense whatsoever, whether Peter realised this, Tony had no idea.

"Pete." He tries to break Peter out of his mumbling, into a more comprehensive state. Peter squints and looks directly at Tony, seemingly to just either ignore Banner altogether or not see him at all. Peter takes a few attempts to respond, and when he finally does its understandable, to Tony at least.

"Questo, m-mio nome…? [1]" Peter looks up at him, eyes wide, but the usual brightness doesn't quite reach his expression. Yes, Tony thinks, That is your name. He would almost laugh at the lack of grammar, had this been a different situation.

"Sono qui ora, Pete. [2]" Tony responds with instead. He wants to say anything, anything at all to let Peter know that he was safe, and to anchor Peter in the present, that he didn't have to worry about anything else, and he owed the world nothing.

But Tony never really had a way with words, so he settles for song lyrics, to a song he notices Peter has been listening to on his Spotify account. He doesn't remember the entire song, but he does remember the last bridge.

"Più leggeri della cenere, [3]" Tony begins, and only then remembers that Banner was standing right next to him, in the same room. He shrugs, looking sheepish and with his eyes, he promises that he'd explain later to Banner. "Voliamo via se il vento soffia forte. [3]" Tony doesn't say it in the same way the song does, and certainly does the original song no justice, in his own opinion, but it seems to be soothing Peter anyway so he continues.

"Più preziosi di un diamante che. [3]" Another bar in the song, and Tony realises that Peter is stabilising in his emotional state, so in a quick decision, he picks Peter up bridal style, gently, and makes his way into the lounge room of the compound.

"Diventa luce quando fuori è notte [3]."He's climbing up the stairs now, and it seems though Peter hasn't noticed that he's being moved yet, just quietly studying the features on Tony's face, and somehow subconsciously had put his arms around Tony's neck. Tony struggles under the weight, and notices that Peter is far to light for his age and height.

"Divento luce se là fuori è notte. [3]." With those final lines, Tony gently places Peter onto the couch, with a blanket carefully tossed over him. Tony and Banner quietly back out of the room, making sure to shut the door quietly. Tony tells Jarvis to not let anybody else in, and alert Tony to when Peter looked responsive again. The poor kid's been through a lot, and has a lot of pressure and responsibilities placed on him, Tony could understand if the weight was becoming a lot, the kid deserved more breaks.

Banner held a questioning stare to him in the kitchen.

"So, you and Pete, Italian, huh?" Tony nods silently, sipping his glass of wine. He just needed something this afternoon, he barely had any alcohol to drink these days, so other peoples opinions be damned. "Did you guys learn it together as a bonding experience or something?" Tony shakes his head this time, and speaks.

"No, it was purely coincidental that we both knew the language. My mother was originally Italian, so were my first nannies. Peter's Aunt mostly raised him, and she was Italian as well." He shrugs, and takes another sip of his wine.

"I was actually thinking about taking Peter over there, temporarily, to let him get a feel for it. Maybe for six months next year. But," Tony thinks about the situation with Connor. "Something came up. Hopefully, we'll still go though." He waves around his hand for emphasis.

"We can track down his Aunt's family, enrol him in a high-school, he could do Liceo Artistico [4], but knowing him, he'd choose Istituto Tecnico [5]. The former is an education much more immersive and unique though. It's completely up to him, hell, he might even decide he wants to go to Istituto Professionale [6]." Tony hardly cares what Peter would decide to do, having full faith that Peter would be great at any choice in the end.

"Uh, Tony." Banner says, more pointedly this time than before."

"Yep?"

"Are you aware you've got a corpse in your lab?"

"Uh huh."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

AN:

[1] Questo, m-mio nome...? = This my name?
[2] Sono qui ora, Pete. = I'm here now, Pete
[3] The last verse from this song open. spotify track/ 0DRKnh0BloxJHyhXkfbiX8?si=J4VZRXSVTBe6KBr2sJ_Atg (remove spaces)
[4] One of the high school branches you can choose in italy, typically at 14-ish. This one is more cultural
[5] One of the high school branches you can choose in italy, typically at 14-ish. This one is more sciency
[6] One of the high school branches you can choose in italy, typically at 14-ish. This one is more professional