Dr. Cho is right. Peter can breathe again by the end of the night, albeit in frail wheezes. They keep the oxygen mask over his face, but he can sit up in his bed and watch the news.
And on the news he's getting wheeled out of Midtown on a gurney over and over from every different angle. There's even drone footage. He guesses that's what comes with his fifteen minutes of fame: exposure.
"At nine thirty-six this morning, Stark Industries intern and Tony Stark's personal protégée Peter Parker was rushed out of school at Midtown School of Science and Technology by paramedics," the blond reporter, Mallory Evers says. "Parker was transported to New York-Presbyterian Hospital in Queens. As of yet, there is no word on why the ambulance was called or his condition at this time." The tv clicks and powers down.
"You don't need to watch that," Happy says from his right. May is frowning in her sleep in an easy chair to his left. "Tabloid garbage. It seeps into the local news sometimes."
Peter doesn't respond, just swallows thickly and stares at his pale hands. It bothers him more than it should. They haven't said anything bad about him, but it still feels like he's being attacked from all sides.
"It'll pass, kid," Happy points out. "Like that 'catch me outside' girl."
Peter laughs—or almost does—and it comes out like squeezing a broken squeaky toy.
"It's 'cash me ousside'," he rasps.
Happy frowns. "That doesn't make any sense."
The room falls dark. Poppoppops echo through the lowest floor. Happy's out of his chair in an instant.
"Stay here, kid," he orders.
Peter's breath catches on a ragged edge. "Where's Mr. Stark?" he asks.
"He's not here. Pepper made him go sleep at the penthouse. You pretend to be asleep, got it?"
"But, Happy, I—"
"No."
And Happy's out the door, closing it silently behind him. The lock clicks into place.
