Peter looked down at his arms nervously. His breathing came in short, quick bursts, and his pupils were blown wide, making his already jittery expression borderline panicked.

"Am I vibrating?" His voice pitched up slightly. "I think I'm vibrating. I feel like I'm moving but I'm not trying to move and I don't think it's tremors. It's more like a-whole-body thing. Like when you put something on top of a washing machine and it vibrates right off the lid during the spin cycle." His hands fluttered uselessly as he tried to describe it. "That's me. I think I'm about to vibrate right off my seat if I don't pay attention."

Tony reached for the empty coffee cup on Peter's worktable. He frowned at the lightness of it.

"Okay, this was a bad idea."

Peter, clearly oblivious, was still watching his hands. "Does it look like I'm moving? I promise I'm not trying to. This can't possibly be normal."

Tony popped the lid and looked inside. There was just some whipped cream left pooling at the bottom. Why the hell had he let the kid get a grande?

Peter's paranoia spiked. "FRIDAY, what's the definition of tremors? Also, can you search for a list of my symptoms and see what pops up?"

"Tremors are defined as an involuntary quivering movement. WebMD states that…"

"Belay that order, FRI!" Tony scrubbed at his face in exhaustion. The last thing they needed was WebMD-induced hysteria.

"Peter, you are completely fine. I think you're just having a strong reaction to the caffeine. I promise you're okay."

"This is what coffee does?" Peter looked horrified. "Why do you drink so much of it? Don't you have a heart condition? Do you like feeling like you're dying all the time?"

Tony brow drew down in concern. "You feel like you're dying?"

"I feel like I'm going to burst out of my own skin and run a few crazed laps around the building before stroking-out on the floor."

"Yikes. Okay, let's get you some water. And FRIDAY, get Bruce on the line for me, please, dear."

Peter twitched in his seat as Tony replaced the empty cup of double-shot espresso caramel macchiato with a glass of water. The teen seemed miserably jittery and anxious.

"Why did you drink the entire thing so quickly?"

Peter shrugged with a little whine. "It was sweet, and I was thirsty."

Tony barely restrained a pained sigh.

The kid looked impossibly strung out for a little caffeine sensitivity. Tony tried to keep his face as neutral and unconcerned as possible, lest Peter pick up on his growing alarm.

Bruce's face popped up on the screen and Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Bruce would know what to do.

"What did you do to the kid, Tony? FRIDAY says you need a consult. Need I remind you-"

"Yeah, I know, not that kind of doctor. But I could still use your help."

Bruce frowned. "We talking genetic anomaly level or you-just-screwed-up level?"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "We may have discovered one of his metabolic quirks."

Bruce sat up a little straighter. "Okay. I'm listening."

That got Bruce's attention. He and Helen had been working on synthesizing medicine for the kid based off the limited data they'd gathered. Any extra data Tony could provide them, even anecdotal, would help inform their work.

Tony stepped a few feet away, lowering his voice so Peter wouldn't overhear and spiral further. He was freaking out enough already.

"Let's say the kid just pounded down a very sweet, extra-caffeinated beverage at an alarming rate." Tony paused to glance at the mostly empty cup and winced. "Let's say about 16 oz." He did some quick math in his head and winced some more, "At least 200mg of caffeine."

"Wow. Um, okay. Did it put him to sleep?"

Tony blinked. "What? No, that would be weird. Is that what you were expecting would happen?"

Bruce frowned and scratched something out in a notebook and then scribbled some hasty notes over it. "Okay, tell me his symptoms."

Tony shifted to the side so Bruce could see Peter himself through the screen. The kid was bouncing his legs almost violently against the chair, his eyes darting back and forth like he expected to be attacked at any moment.

"Well, he's a bit jumpy."

"It would have been helpful to have the results from that metabolic stress test we tried. But in its absence, I can only assume that Peter metabolizes caffeine quickly, but doesn't process the downstream effects as fast. When did his symptoms start?"

"He was like this in less than ten minutes after chugging the drink."

"If he's burning through it really fast, we can assume he'll have a longer period of intensity and a short overall effect. So, it'll be really bad for maybe an hour and then should fade fast. Did you get his vitals at all?"

"No, I'm not that kind of doctor." Tony deadpanned.

Peter, still clutching the water, perked up suddenly. "FRIDAY, is it normal to feel like I'm aware of my own atomic bonds? Is that—like—a symptom of caffeine overdose? Can you check WebMD?"

Tony slapped a hand over his face. "FRI, do NOT open WebMD. Peter, sip your water and take some slow breaths."

"May I recommend some calming music?" FRIDAY suggested, apparently tired of Tony preventing her from helping.

"Yeah, do that. But nothing from your stash of weird decades music. Find something meditative."

Nature sounds and pan flutes came over the speaker.

Bruce quietly murmured over the phone. "Maybe you should get a pulse rate and blood pressure, just to be safe. And see if he'll let you draw a blood sample."

Peter jerked like he somehow heard that, but he was probably just convulsing. Tony sighed. The kid wasn't terribly cooperative about medical tests on a good day.

"Yeah, maybe. I'm going to call you back." Tony hung up on Bruce and ran his hand through his hair nervously. Peter was not going to go to the med bay, who was he kidding. Before he could even try, the kid bounced onto his feet with a suggestion of his own.

"Mr. Stark, maybe we should just harness all this energy and put it to good use. I'd appreciate a distraction anyway. Can we just work on something in the lab?"

"You're not getting anywhere near sharps, glassware, or delicate instruments."

"Come on Mr. Stark!"

"Sip your water."

Peter made a face. "I think I'm going to throw up, actually."

Good grief.

Tony handed the kid a trash can and Peter looped one arm around it, hugging it miserably.

"I'm going to just get your pulse real quick, okay?"

Peter nodded, warily watching Tony with the twitchiness of someone withdrawing from much more serious stimulant abuse.

Tony reached out and took one of Peter's trembling wrists, and crap, was he actually vibrating? The kid's hands shook like he was shivering in below freezing temps.

"Pete, take some really slow breaths. Hold them in before exhaling. Like this, watch" Tony demonstrated.

He found the teen's pulse easily enough while Peter was distracted by the apparently difficult task of controlled breathing. It was fast but otherwise strong and healthy. All the kid's jittery motion must just be his nervous system's way of working through the adrenaline.

"Am I okay?" Peter asked nervously, squinting a little in the bright lab lights. Tony felt bad for the kid. Peter usually tried to appear so stoic and cool-headed. The kid must be feeling really off.

Tony patted his pockets until he found his pair of sunglasses, then pulled up a chair in front of the kid to sit directly in front of him. Peter's shaking knees repeatedly knocked into his own like a jackhammer, but Tony stayed put.

"Peter," Tony waited for the teen to swing his erratic gaze in his direction.

"You're okay. I know you don't feel great right now. It's just the caffeine. It can make anxiety worse. And it can make you more alert."

He leaned forward and placed the sunglasses gently on Peter's face. "I know you're a little sensitive to light and sound. Your nervous system probably can't take all the extra stimulation. It needs to calm down, and then you'll feel better."

Peter nodded weakly. "Okay Mr. Stark."

"And we agree, don't we, that you're not to have any caffeine ever again?" Tony raised his eyebrows at the kid who nodded emphatically.

"Never again." He agreed.

"And we won't tell Pepper."

Peter huffed. "You owe me. But, fine."

"Good man."