Note: Sorry for the long delay in updating these. I've still been writing, life is just crazy insane, and I kinda forgot to post over here. You can always look me up and follow me on AO3 (archive of our own) if you want realtime updates! Also, formatting on fanfiction . net is dumb and limited, so sorry about the text conversation at the end.


Peter's head felt like it might split open. He was trying super hard to hold still while the medic (nurse?) named Greta started an IV in his arm, even though he was honestly freaking out. He'd never had an IV before. He'd gotten shots, but May or Ben had always been there with him, even when he was 12. He may be super-powered, but it was still freaking scary. He was carefully not watching, and also wishing Mr. Stark was back for some reason. He was 14, for heaven's sake. It's not like he needed someone to hold his hand anymore. (Even if he really, really wanted someone to.)

Speaking of scary: He knew he still wasn't thinking straight, and his injured leg especially just kept twitching and burning, but the whole world had snapped into clarity when he realized Mr. Stark was asking if they could take his mask off.

He'd been nervous, but he'd also been hurting so badly, and was worried about what the venom was doing to him. And his spider sense had been remarkably silent when his mentor had asked. He didn't really think he'd be in any extra danger from Mr. Stark knowing he was enhanced, and he felt the man would protect him from the medical personnel as well.

But when the nice lady doctor—what was her name? Dr. Chan? Dr. Ko? His head was still fuzzy—had mentioned his parents needed to be notified, his danger-sense had gone haywire. They could not find out. They could not be here. His eyes accidentally darted to the needle as it entered his arm, and he looked upward hard, trying to contain the tears as he fought the instinct to pull his arm away from the sensation. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as any of his injuries, but he didn't like the helpless feeling of sitting there and allowing it. He tried to tune into the conversation Mr. Stark and the doctor were having, and that made his heart rate jump a little more. She was saying they couldn't hide his injuries from his parents. But they couldn't, they just couldn't.

"Mr. Stark?" he finally asked, sounding a little braver than he felt. As long as he didn't move at all, his back and (arm and leg) just burned, and he didn't feel like he might throw up from the pain. But the whole needle-in-his-arm thing might have the same effect, he realized, his stomach churning.

"Hey, Pete," Mr. Stark said softly, coming to his side. "What can I help with? Hopefully we'll figure out some pain meds that will work soon, so we can figure out exactly what's wrong with you."

"Afraid I'm gonna throw up," Peter whimpered, against his will. He wasn't completely in control of his mouth, though.

"Oh," Mr. Stark said, looking up wildly, panic in his eyes. "Don't—I mean, that would really hurt your back, I'm guessing."

Peter sighed miserably, not trusting himself to move his head enough to nod.

"Hey, we're gonna see if we can help you with that, too. But in the meantime, can you hum for me?"

"What?" Maybe Peter's head wasn't as clear as he thought.

"Humming usually suppresses the gag reflex if you need some time to settle things down or get somewhere safe to… you know. Please don't ask how I know that it works."

Peter quietly started humming "You are My Sunshine," which was the first song that popped into his head. He'd had a first grade teacher who'd been obsessed with that one and had them sing it all the time. And when he'd learned it, May had started singing it to him at night whenever he asked.

Tony looked at him oddly, a corner of his mouth quirking. "There you go. Hey nurse? Can we get some anti-nausea meds first? Highest indicated dose for his size, please."

They started that quickly while Tony got Peter some 7-Up to sip on from the fridge, and thankfully, the urge dissipated. The pain had also eased a little bit, though Peter's head didn't feel much clearer. The doctor had come over and was saying something to him.

"—on a scale of one to ten?"

"Hmm?"

"Your pain. Is it any better?"

"I think so? It doesn't feel as sharp."

"What do you feel like it was when you came in?"

"Really bad."

"If it was a nine or ten on a scale of ten when you came in, what would you say it is now?" she asked patiently.

"Maybe a seven? A six if I don't move at all."

"Hmm." She turned to Mr. Stark, who Peter realized was standing next to him still. Oh. That's who was touching the top of his head softly. It was Mr. Stark. "I'd like to take some more blood and go ahead with the x-rays. We need to see what's going on with his back, and I'm sure the arm is broken, too, from the bruising and reaction to touch."

She turned back to look at him seriously. "Peter, what about your parents? Don't you think it's best if we notify them?"

Panic seized Peter's chest. "No, ma'am, I think that's a terrible idea. Can we please wait and see how things are going in a few hours? They're working late tonight anyway. They may not come home at all. I could call and see if I could stay at my friend's house tonight, and maybe by tomorrow morning I'll be all healed up? Then they don't have to know. It's so much better this way, I promise."

She sighed and glared at Mr. Stark, as if all of this was his fault, then looked back at Peter more kindly.

"I'm not very comfortable with this. Can you tell me why you feel that you'd be unsafe if they knew about your… enhancements?"

Peter looked out the dark window for a moment, his eyes unfocused. "I… ever since the bite I have this weird, like, sixth sense thing. It… buzzes at me, kinda like my leg was doing right after the scorpion stung me when something is dangerous, or something bad's about to happen.

Mr. Stark and the doctor (Cho! That was it!) both looked intrigued, so Peter continued.

"And I wanted to tell them when it first happened, because I was really scared, and didn't know what was going on, and Ned, my friend, thought maybe they could help. Because I mean, it was their spider that bit me."

Peter had to close his eyes for a moment and rest before going on. Everything still hurt. A lot.

"But every time I think about telling them, my spider-sense thing just goes crazy. Like it's not safe for them to know about me. I'm not sure why. But I do know they're super into their experiments, and I wonder if they would maybe see me as part of it all, you know? Right now I'm able to fly under the radar, and they don't say much to me or stop me from going to high school or anything as long as I don't bug them too much."

Peter turned his head slightly to the side and was quiet, feeling drained after getting so much out and making it all make sense.

He blinked back open to see Tony staring at Dr. Cho expectantly. She had a look of shock on her face that was morphing to resignation. At least he hoped that's what it was.

"Well, Peter, let's run the tests and x-rays, if that's okay with you. We'll make some decisions after that."

"Okay." Peter's leg spasmed and he flinched, eyes closing tightly. He felt Mr. Stark's hand stroke his hair again, lightly, as if he was trying to comfort him. It had been a while since anyone had done that.

"Let's get them done, so we can try better pain meds, maybe."

"We're already giving him a lot of morphine, Tony," the doctor said tightly.

"How much did it take for Rogers after that HYDRA raid last month, when he broke his leg?"

"About three times this much," she said reluctantly.

"Okay. Surely if we increase it slowly, we can at least get him down to a four or something, hmm?"

"Let's get the x-rays and the blood work back and then we'll see," she said. "Dr. Banner's going to be here within 30 minutes, and he may have more insight for us from the basic tests we've been able to run."

"Pepper's coming, too," Mr. Stark said, "and hopefully she'll have some legal advice for us."

"Good. Maybe she can talk some sense into you," she said ruefully. Then she eyed Peter. "Both of you."


"Tony, are you kidding me?"

An angry Pepper was truly a sight to behold. Tony was trying really hard to not think about how attracted he was to her right now, because if he didn't focus, she might actually kill him this time.

"You have your intern in there, a fourteen- year-old kid, with serious injuries, and we haven't told his parents yet?" She was pacing now, fully striding, somehow, in those crazy tall heels, and her usually-calm voice was almost at screech-level. It had never ended well for him when he broke through her composure enough that she had to move around to keep from punching him. "How in the world do you see this not blowing up in our faces?"

"Pepper, if you'll just calm down I'll explain what's happening, because—"

She stopped moving. "Oh, don't you dare tell me to calm down, mister! You have a minor in there, a child, who has a broken arm, three cracked vertebrae, and is suffering from some strange mutant scorpion venom, who—"

"Because he was out there looking for the scorpion guy. He's stronger than Rogers, faster than Clint, and his arm is already healing itself! If you'll just—"

"Tony, no ! We cannot do this! His parents have to be notified!"

"FRIDAY, please play the clips we've compiled for Ms. Potts," Tony said tightly, rubbing absently at his left arm, which always hurt when everyone was worked up like this. Video footage from the lab started playing on the screen nearest them.

—-

"Hey, kid, are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry, Mr. Stark. Thanks!" Peter's grins as he catches the snacks Tony tosses at him. (How had he missed how quick the kid was? He never missed.)

—-

"Do your parents care if you're here late tonight?"

"Nah. They're working late. They didn't say when they'll be home, but sometimes they don't come home at all."

—-

"You need a ride home?"

"I'm okay. I take the subway at night all the time. It's barely dark out."

"I'm gonna have Happy drive you."

—-

A clip of Peter on the phone with his friend when Tony had been out the lab, but she had brought it up with him later:

"Ned, I can't. You know they'll freak out if I get sick or something and they have to pick me up at school. They hate it if they call them at work. I'll just have to wait to come over until your mom is completely well."

He plopped down on the couch. "No, I'm happy here. I bet I can stay late. It's so much better than being at home. Mr. Stark actually talks to me, you know? Like I'm a real person, who he likes. I've missed that since… well, you know."

"No, Ned! Your mom and dad are awesome! They're so nice to me. But I'm just your friend, you know? It's nice to feel like I can do stuff right here, be helpful, you know? And like I'm actually smart."

He listened for a minute, and sighed. "No, I'm not paying attention to Flash. Don't worry about it. I just ignore it."

"It's already healed up. The bruise doesn't even show anymore. If he's not tripping me, he's tripping someone who it would hurt more. I'm fine."

"What good would that do? You know they barely let me stay in school as it is. It totally cramps their style to have to deal with it without May and Ben doing the normal parent stuff. There's no way I'd ever say anything to them, even if it got worse."

Tony entered the lab from the side. You could see Peter's face light up.

"Ned, I gotta go! Hey, Mr. Stark!"

—-

The clip about how his parents wouldn't care if he started working late Fridays when Tony asked.

—-

A close-up of Peter's face as he exchanged a short series of texts with his mom. He looked empty.

—-

Several other clips of expressions and comments that all painted a clear picture about Peter's home life. Some Tony hadn't even seen, but FRIDAY had been vigilant.

—-

Next on the screen were several CPS reports from when Peter was very young. Suspected neglect (twice), suspected abuse, but nothing ever substantiated. Immediately after, records showed Peter enrolled at a full-time pre-school at 4, with May and Ben Parker listed as the primary emergency contacts, and his parents as secondary.

There were several articles that mentioned Peter, things from school newspapers in elementary and junior high, where he'd done well in contests or as a member of his robotics team. There were two pictures along with those, both of him with people Tony recognized as his aunt and uncle, not his parents.

FRIDAY displayed stats collected from Peter's 7th grade physical, 8th grade physical, and his recent 9th grade physical. Apparently being on any school team, even a non-athletic one, required one, and these appeared to have been done on-site at the school. Between the first two he had grown several inches and gained 15 lbs, but as of his 9th grade physical, he had gained another inch but lost that same 15 lbs. There were also several notes in his official school file (which they definitely should not have copies of) when Peter had come in with many small injuries, asking for painkillers. Mostly minor things like smashed fingers, headaches, or generally not feeling well. On a few of them the nurse had suggested he might want to go home and rest, but he had refused, just asking for meds instead.

FRIDAY brought up Richard and Mary Parker's careers, highlighting the many months they'd been out-of-the-country (with no travel records for Peter), the times they'd had official sanctions and widespread first-person accounts of ethics violations concerning human and animal experimentation.

FRIDAY had been extremely thorough.

Finally, FRIDAY played the footage of Peter's reactions, protests, and pleading, as well as his explanation earlier at why he was so adamant against calling his parents.

None of the things FRIDAY had gathered were enough that any judge or even CPS would act to remove Peter (justifiably so) but all of the evidence together was worrisome. No one in that medbay wanted to put the kid in more danger than he was already in.

Pepper turned slowly towards Tony, her face a little pale, and her eyes wet. One arm was wrapped tightly around her middle, and the other was pressed to her mouth. Her expression was a mix of sorrow and determination.

"Okay. Let me see what I can figure out."


Mr. Stark poked his head back into the room. He'd called Dr. Cho out to talk with him and Ms. Potts a few minutes ago, but they'd gone far enough away that Peter couldn't hear what they were saying. And he truly didn't care, at the moment. Dr. Cho had authorized raising his morphine a bit at a time until he finally said his pain was only at a three to four, even when he adjusted his position.

"That's more than twice the dose he should have for his size," she'd said, her lips pressed together disapprovingly. And that's with a continuous drip. He's burning through it even faster than Captain Rogers would."

"But his pulse and respiration are okay, right?" Mr. Stark had pressed.

She'd reluctantly agreed. Peter was just so happy to not be hurting so much, he didn't even mind that he seemed to be causing problems for them. It would all be okay. He felt a little floaty, but his mind jumped back to the present. Mr. Stark was talking to him. —

"—y Bud, you with me?" His mentor was settling gingerly on the edge of his hospital bed, and a hand ghosted over the top of his head. That was nice.

"Hey, M's'r Stark."

"So kinda, huh?" the older man said, his voice laced with amusement.

"I'm here," Peter protested, forcing his eyes to open and stay that way.

"Since Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner analyzed that venom and synthesized a slightly different version of the regular scorpion anti-venom, they've seen a visible improvement in your wound over the last hour."

Peter nodded firmly, trying not to blink.

"Relax, kid. You can close your eyes and listen, as long as you stay with me," Mr. Stark said gently.

"Dr. Cho and Pepper and I think it's worth a try if you really think you might be healed up in a day or two, to keep this off your parents' radar, since you insist they shouldn't know yet."

Peter a little dancy feeling of relief.

"Yes, please, sir. I'm sure I can heal. Hopef'lly by tomorrow."

"You sound a little doubtful about the timing, Pete. Do you think you'll need more time?"

"I mean, sometimes it takes longer than others. I think I heal faster when I'm eating a lot"—he paused, taking a breath for a moment—"but I haven' been able to exper'ment too much. I mean I'm always kinda hungry, you know?"

"What?"

"Like, just since the spider bite," Peter said a little more cautiously, his eyes suddenly not sleepy at all. "I just need a lot more food, you know? So maybe if I can eat a lot, I'll heal faster?"

Mr. Stark nodded tightly. "Absolutely. We'll get you hooked up with a late-night snack, or dinner, or whatever ASAP."

"That sounds awesome. Maybe… cheeseburgers?"

"How many?" Mr. Stark asked curiously.

Peter gulped, but went for it. "Like… four?"

"Four it is, FRIDAY. You know how he likes them."

"And fries?"

"Of course, kid."

Peter sighed happily and settled back into his pillow. It was so nice not to hurt. He was so tired, too, but knew he needed to eat first to help his healing.

"So about your parents," Tony continued.

Peter cracked an eye open. "Yeah?"

"We need an excuse. Pepper thinks we should get a hold of them and see if we—Stark Industries, I mean—can keep you for the weekend. Special projects at the Compound and all that. Do you think they'd be up for that?"

"I hones'ly have no idea, sir," Peter said, again. He was having a hard time concentrating. "I can try?"

"What if I try? I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be talking to anyone all hopped up on morphine. I can call them. Will that be weird at almost 10 at night?"

"Um, I'm sure they're still working, but… they don't exac'ly know that I'm working with, well you, Mr. Stark. 'm not sure how they'd react to that. Maybe they'd let me? But maaaaybe they'd freak out. 's really a toss-up."

"They don't know you're working in my lab with me?"

"No way! Dude, they've been trying to get me to like, talk to you and make you like me, so they can get their hands on some kind of tech that you have coming out before their competitors, I think." Peter's words were tripping out easily now, not slogged down at all.

"And they keep bugging me to try to work in the DNA micro-array lab, like I have any control over that, and I'm pretty sure they'd be happier with me than they've ever been if I actually managed to steal the specs on all kinds of things and give it to them, so they don't have to deal with you or whatever, 'cause they don't like you, you know? So I haven't even told them I really know you, and see you all the time, 'cause I just don't want to deal with all that, and 'cause I really love working with you, and would never want to screw that up, because—" Peter stilled. His head was spinning just a little after not getting enough oxygen in the last minute because he wouldn't take time to shut up.

Mr. Stark was just staring at him.

His next question came out almost as a whisper. "Did I just call you 'Dude?'"

"You did," Mr. Stark said, his face impossible to read.

"And did I just say a bunch of stuff about what professional scum my parents are, and how they are kinda just letting me do this because they want me to, like, schmooze and give them tech specs and stuff?"

"Possibly."

"Oh, no," Peter said, bringing his hands up to cover his face. "Sir, I promise, I would never. And I'm so sorry I said anything." He hiccupped with the stress of trying not to cry. He needed to never, never do drugs. "I probably should ask them to lower the morphine; it's just so nice to not hurt, and I don't know—" he stopped abruptly, cursing the tears that were flowing freely down the sides of his face.

"Hey, hey," Mr. Stark said, much more gently than Peter expected or deserved.

The man jumped up and grabbed a tissue, then carefully wiped off both of his temples where the wetness was tickling.

"Peter, I'm glad you told me. I'm glad you didn't want to do any of that, and I think I'm even glad you didn't tell them about working in my lab. And you shouldn't be in pain," he said firmly. "It's okay for the meds to affect you like this, if it keeps you comfortable."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Nah, stop that. None of that has changed my opinion of you. In fact, it's probably even higher. But I think you need to eat, and rest, and let us deal with all the adult stuff for a while, capiche?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'm going to have the intern director make the call, and ask if you can stay for the weekend. Say we had a breakthrough, and need many hands over at the Compound."

"And if they don't go for it?"

"We'll figure something out. You just stay awake for—how many more minutes, FRI?"

"Seven, Boss."

"Seven minutes, until your food gets here, and I want you to eat until you're full, okay? Then sleep. Don't worry about a thing except getting better."

"Okay. Thanks, sir."

Mr. Stark left, and Peter sighed. His hand reached over to the bedside table, where he'd seen his phone. Yep, Ned and MJ had been blowing up the group chat, even though it was on silent from patrol.

Dude where are you?

Peter are you okay?

It says youre at Stark Tower. That's good right?

Peter Benjamin Parker you'd better answer me

You haven't moved. That's bad right?

Peter

Peter

PETER

Seriously. I'm about ready to call the police. Or storm Stark Tower or something. Is he keeping you hostage? Did he find something out?

Peter sighed, and took a moment to finally answer them.

Guys chill

I'm okay

Well there was this crazy squirpian guy and I'm kinda injured I guess

squirpion? why don't i know how to spell that

But theyre taking care of me and they're gonna try to get permission for me to stay for the weekend so i can get better and not tell my parents

And Mr Stark knows

Peter set his phone back to the side and carefully pushed the control on the bed that helped him sit up a little more. He could smell the cheeseburgers and hear the page who was bringing them. He's seldom been so excited to eat something. Mr. Stark was handling things. All of this was going to be okay, as long as his parents bought it.