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“Oh, and I ran into the churro lady again,” Peter told Ned. It was almost time for chem to start, but they had arrived early enough for Peter to finish giving Ned a run-down of last night’s patrol.
“Cool, did you get another churro?”
Peter shook his head. “Nah, she was kinda in a hurry, but she seemed happy to see me.” Given the mixed bag that was Spider-Man’s media presence, it was nice to be liked.
The bell rang, and Peter winced.
“You ok?” Ned asked.
“Yeah, yeah, my ears are just kinda sensitive today. I think it’s been more than three days without disaster, and now I’m just expecting something to go wrong all the time.”
“That’s super depressing.”
Peter shrugged but was saved having to respond by class starting.
Ten minutes into class, Peter was wondering if he could get away with working on his web formula during class again or possibly just closing his eyes for a while, when the fire alarm went off.
Peter wasn’t the only one who jumped at the sudden ear-splitting noise. Most of the class got up, a few grumbling but most happy enough to get out of class, but Peter couldn’t. His hands covered his ears, pressing so hard it almost hurt, but they couldn’t block out the sounds around him. His eyes slammed shut against the classroom lights that were suddenly blinding. There was so much noise, the alarm screeching through his skull, the hundreds of footsteps crashing on his eardrums, the scrape of chairs, the voices shouting to be heard over the alarm, his own heartbeat and breathing too loud.
“Peter!” Ned said, “Come on, let’s go!” But Peter didn’t respond at all. His eyes were shut tight, his hands clamped over his ears. He was starting to draw attention. Apparently “kinda sensitive” meant a lot more than Ned had initially assumed. Ok, so if Peter was in too much pain or something to move on his own, Ned had to help.
Peter flinched away as soon as Ned’s hand touched his arm. Ok, so all senses overloading, not just hearing. That complicated things, but the fact was that Peter had to get moving now, and Ned had no ideas how to do that without sending some sensory input. As gently as he could, he tugged on Peter’s arm. “Come on, Peter.”
Peter followed this time, though he kept his hands pressed over his ears and his eyes nearly shut. Ok. Well, that was something. They just had to get out of the building with all the alarms to...well, New York City, which probably wasn’t the best place to be with overloaded super-senses. Ned just had to hope that getting away from the main source of overwhelming noise would be enough for Peter to get his senses back under control.
Also that no one would notice or question why Peter was only semi-conscious and in obvious pain.
And that nothing else would go wrong like Flash taking the opportunity to heckle them. Or any of the other random things that totally would happen just because this was Peter, and the universe was a dick to him.
Ned wasn’t sure what to do to help. Anything reassuring he might say would still be more noise that Peter probably didn’t want to deal with, but he couldn’t do nothing. Other than what he was already doing, which he supposed was a good thing - keeping Peter moving and vaguely upright, there was a metaphor in there.
A few excruciating minutes later, they made it outside to where their class was supposed to meet. Peter looked slightly less tense as they got farther from the screeching alarms, but he still wouldn’t open his eyes or take his hands off his ears.
“Peter, what do I do?” Ned asked frantically, “We’re drawing attention, and you’re hurting, but I don’t know how to help!”
“Peter? Ned, what’s going on?”
Normally Ned would be grateful for an adult presence in this kind of situation (best friend hurt and not responding), but he was trying to not draw attention. He hesitated a moment too long.
“Peter,” Ms. Warren said firmly (loudly), “I need to know what’s going on.”
“Don’t!” Ned said as she reached for Peter’s arm. Peter’s face twitched, and if possible, his hands tightened again over his ears. “I mean,” he added more quietly, “He’s got sensory overload. He needs somewhere quiet. Can I take him somewhere?”
“Not too far. This is a fire drill, Ned.”
But she let Ned take Peter to the edge of the crowd and sit down with him. Peter still looked shaky and in pain, but Ned was pretty sure he was improving slowly. They sat in silence. It started drizzling, and Peter shuddered.
“Oh, shoot. Here.” Ned took off his sweatshirt and draped it over Peter. Peter flinched but then curled his fingers around the material, which Ned took as a good sign.
“Ned, Peter, what are you doing?” It was MJ. Of course it was MJ.
“Peter’s...cold,” Ned said slowly.
MJ crouched down in front of them. “Really? ‘Cause it looks like he’s experiencing sensory overload.”
Ned sighed. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
“I’m not an idiot. Is he going to be ok?”
“I don’t know. It’s happened to him before, but this seems bad. Are they ever going to turn the alarm off?”
“Eventually,” MJ said. She squinted at Peter, whose eyes were still tightly shut and who hadn’t responded to her at all. “But I think he should go home. Even without the alarm, it’s not like he’s going to get to rest here.”
Ned frowned. MJ was probably right, but he knew that Peter would probably object once he could move and/or talk. Plus, May was working, and Ned knew Peter would be upset if she had to be called away from work.
“I don’t know if he can…” Ned said hesitantly.
“Sure he can. Call his aunt.”
“She’s working.”
“So?”
“Don’t,” Peter mumbled and winced at his own voice. Ned gave MJ a pointed look.
“Then call someone else,” she said, “But don’t come crying to me if he collapses halfway through next period.” She walked away.
“She’s got a point,” Ned said quietly. “You really should go home, Peter.”
Peter shook his head slightly.
“I won’t call May, but you can’t just suffer through the rest of the day like this. Do you really think you’ll just get better after the alarm turns off?”
Peter didn’t move, which Ned took as a no. Ok so, Ned had to figure out who to call. His mom? Also working, and she’d probably ask too many questions about Peter’s sensory overload. And then he knew.
“Hey, Peter, I need your phone. Sorry.”
It probably meant a lot about how badly Peter was feeling that he handed it over without question. Ned unlocked it and scrolled through his contacts.
Happy Hogan.
This is Ned. Peter’s not feeling well. Can you come pick him up?
He waited about a minute for a response.
What’s wrong with him and why can’t his aunt?
She’s working he has sensory overload.
There was a fire alarm
I don’t know who else to call.
Fine. I’ll see what I can do.
***
By the time the alarm stopped ringing, Peter was exhausted. The sudden absence of that one persistent, blaring noise was a huge relief, but he was still surrounded by loud voices, the flashing lights of the nearby fire trucks, and the constant, tiny pattering of the raindrops.
Ned had gone to talk to their teacher, so Peter simply burrowed further into the borrowed hoodie, trying and failing to ignore the many sensations of wet fabric on skin.
“Peter.” Ms. Warren’s quiet voice made its way through the confusion. “Someone’s coming to pick you up. When we go back inside, Ned is going to take you to the nurse, alright?”
Peter nodded. He hoped Ned hadn’t called May, but he wasn’t sure who else he would call. Maybe Ned’s mom? But he’d asked for Peter’s phone, so….
“Ned!” he whispered, “Who did you call?”
“I texted Happy.”
“What!?”
“Relax, Peter. It’s fine. You needed someone to take you home, and you wouldn’t let me call May, and plus, Happy knows about why you’d be susceptible to sensory overload.”
“I can’t bother Happy with this!”
Peter couldn’t see Ned frowning, but he could hear it in his voice. “Peter, it’s fine. Isn’t this part of his job? Looking after you?”
Peter didn’t have the energy to argue the point, and he knew it would be useless anyway. When the drill was finally over (he was suffering like this for a drill?) he let himself lean on Ned all the way to the nurse’s office. He didn't want to admit it, but the relative quiet and calm there was a relief, and he was exhausted enough to lie down at the first opportunity and wait for Happy.
But it wasn't Happy who showed up. It was Tony Stark.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter sat up quickly and tried to look less pathetic. “What are you doing here?”
“Picking you up. Obviously.”
“But...why? I thought Happy-”
“He's busy. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Peter said hastily, “but-”
“Wrong answer. You're clearly not fine. Try again.”
“Mr. Stark-”
“Try again.”
“Ok, kind of crappy. But-”
“Sound still overwhelming?”
Peter opened his mouth, closed it again. Mr. Stark was using a much softer voice than usual, and he was looking at Peter with genuine concern.
“It's ok,” Peter said slowly, “a little loud, but ok.”
“And the lights?”
Peter glanced toward the door and the more brightly lit room beyond. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but he figured he could make it at least as far as the car just fine. “They're ok.”
“Right. Put these on.” Mr. Stark held out a pair of sunglasses. Peter stared at them. “Come on, kid. We want to get out of here before the hallways fill with teenagers.”
Peter put the sunglasses on (they helped, more than he would admit and less than he might have liked) and followed Mr. Stark out of the school.
***
“Uh...Mr. Stark, where are we going?” Peter asked as they took yet another turn that did not lead to his apartment.
“Upstate.”
“Like upstate upstate?”
“Like the Avengers compound, yes.”
“Is there a mission?” Peter asked eagerly.
“Yeah, I pulled you out of school in the middle of a sensory overload to take you on a mission,” Mr. Stark said with what Peter thought was an excessive amount of sarcasm.
“Then what is it?”
“You’re going to take a nap, and when your aunt gets out of work, I’ll have Happy take you home.”
“Wait, really? That’s it?”
“That’s it. Maybe you can help me test out some new noise-cancelling technology, but otherwise, you’re resting.”
“You have new noise-cancelling technology?”
“I’m going to.”
“What? Mr. Stark, no, you don’t have to-”
“I don’t have to do anything. But I’m going to do this, because you need it, and to be honest, other people could probably use it.”
Peter stared at Mr. Stark, and Mr. Stark continued watching the road.
“Thanks,” Peter muttered eventually. Mr. Stark said nothing, but smiled slightly. Peter looked down, also smiling. He was exhausted, and embarrassed, and also incredibly happy.