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“I’m fine. I’m sure it’s just from studying for finals. They’re coming up in two weeks, you know.”
Tony pointed forcefully to the space beside where he was standing. “I said get your butt over here.” His tone left no room for argument.
Peter reluctantly got up from the couch and joined Tony next to the penthouse elevator.
Tony continued, more gently. “I do know, kiddo. I also know you’re more than ready for your exams, and you haven’t been studying enough to be this tired. And what about the muscle pains?”
“Probably just from sitting in one position for a long time while I study?”
“Maybe. Or, maybe you’re coming down with something. Only one way to find out. Let’s go. I already called Bruce.”
Peter suddenly felt very conflicted. On the one hand, he loved meeting up with Dr. Banner, but on the other, he decidedly did not want to get poked and prodded in the medbay. He’d gone this long without anyone finding out about his irrational fear of needles.
The elevator opened and they stepped inside. Tony pressed the button for the medbay floor.
Bruce was already waiting when they arrived. “Hi, Peter. Tony. What’s up?”
Peter gave Bruce a weak smile while trying to school his expression into one that wasn’t too starstruck.
“Hey, Bruce,” said Tony. He nudged Peter. “Tell him, kid.”
“It’s nothing, Mr. Stark, I’m fine –”
“Kid’s been having some odd symptoms lately,” Tony interrupted. “Gets tired easily, muscle cramps, stuff like that.”
Bruce nodded and turned to Peter, lifting his hands to the teen’s neck. “That could be a few things.” He felt Peter’s lymph nodes as Peter struggled not to a) squirm from ticklishness, or b) show his complete awe at being one of the few people ever to have the Hulk’s hands around their neck while living to tell the tale. “Nutrient deficiency would be my first guess. It’s possible you can’t absorb certain nutrients as well since getting bitten. A blood test will tell us for sure.”
Peter gulped at the words ‘blood test’, but managed to hide the fear from his face. This is exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid. Well, he reasoned, it had been a couple years since his last jab from a needle; maybe he’d outgrown his juvenile freak-outs.
“Actually,” continued Bruce, “I’ve been meaning to ask for a blood sample from you for a while now. I’d like to study your healing factor some more.”
“You heard the man,” said Tony. He slapped the exam table. “Take a seat.”
Peter couldn’t see any way out of this. As Bruce rummaged in the drawers for a syringe and antiseptic, Peter took a deep breath and shuffled up onto the table, sitting at the edge. He clenched his jaw shut and willed himself to get through this with minimal embarrassment. Tony turned to leave.
“Ok, Peter, let’s roll up your sleeve,” Bruce began, reaching for Peter’s arm.
“UHH, ” Peter blurted, roughly jerking his arm away and pushing Bruce hard with his other arm before he could stop himself. Bruce’s hands shot up in a gesture of surrender and he took a step back.
Tony, who was almost out the door, stopped and turned around. Peter was blushing furiously and trying to stammer an apology.
“Sorry! Sorry! I-It was– just a reflex– I’m so sorry, Dr. Banner!”
Tony strode back to Peter. “Hey hey, easy, kid. It’s alright. Relax.” He put a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder and felt some of the kid’s tension ebb away. “But don’t you know it’s not wise to hit this guy?” he added, nodding toward Bruce with a half-smile.
Peter blanched with the realization. “Oh my God. Dr. Banner– are you alright? I didn’t mean to, it was an accident.”
Bruce smiled and nodded, holding up a placating hand. “It’s alright, Peter, really. It takes a lot more than that. Tony was just joking.”
Tony turned back to Peter and gave him a long look that made Peter feel like his mentor was staring right into his soul.
“Gimme a minute with the kid?” he asked Bruce.
“Of course,” said Bruce, and left the room.
When the door closed, Tony moved to stand in front of Peter. He gazed at him a moment, his expression soft. “What’s really going on, kid?”
Peter’s eyes dropped to his knees. He felt so childish having to admit this.
Luckily he didn’t have to, at least not outright. “You’re afraid of needles,” Tony prompted. It wasn’t a question.
Peter nodded. “I guess it’s…pretty obvious now, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I pushed Dr. Banner like that.”
Tony chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. He can take it. But why didn’t you say something sooner? There are ways to deal with something like this without testing Brucie’s limits.”
“Because it’s so…ridiculous,” said Peter, looking back up at Tony. “I was hoping I’d outgrown it, but I guess not. But come on: Spider-Man, afraid of needles? Are you kidding? I’ve been punched, kicked, thrown, caught speeding buses in my arms…and I can’t deal with a stupid needle?”
“It’s not stupid or ridiculous. A lot of people have this problem. Needles are different from the pain you feel when you get hurt in a fight.”
Peter nodded, relieved that Tony wasn’t laughing at him.
Tony continued: “But you do need the blood test.”
“Yeah, I know,” Peter sighed.
“Anything I can do to help?” Tony asked. “This can’t be your first needle. What do you usually do?”
Oh God, thought Peter. He hadn’t even thought of mentioning how May usually helped him through his fear at the doctor’s office. How Peter usually ended up wrapping his arms and legs around her as she stood in front of the exam table where he was perched. How she would hold him equally tightly and pull his head onto her shoulder, running her fingers through his hair until it was over. How–
Tony was looking at him expectantly.
“Well,” he began, “May usually…” No. He couldn’t say any of that to Tony. “…stays in the room with me. Sometimes she…holds my hand?”
Even saying that made Peter blush.
“Well I’m not your aunt, but I can stay if it’ll help,” said Tony. “You can hold my hand too, if you promise not to squeeze too hard and break it with your super spidey strength.”
“Y-You wouldn’t mind?” asked Peter, hating how small his voice sounded.
“If you broke my hand? Yeah, I’d mind.”
“No, I meant–”
“I know what you meant, kiddo. And I don’t mind at all.” He smiled warmly at Peter. “You’ve got a stressful enough life as it is. Spider-Manning, final exams. Probably some teenage relationship problems you’re not telling me about. Now this. If I can help, I want to.”
Peter felt a lump in his throat at Tony’s kindness. He nodded.
“I’ll get Banner. This’ll be over before you know it,” Tony said. He poked his head out of the medbay door and called Bruce back in.
“Change of plan,” he said as Bruce donned his gloves. “I’m gonna stick around. Needles stress the kid out a bit.”
“Ah,” said Bruce, understanding. “That’s not a problem, Peter. That’s pretty common. We can go as slow as you want.”
Peter nodded, but didn’t trust himself to talk. Everyone was being so nice to him and his stupid fear of needles.
“Can I roll your sleeve up?” asked Bruce, and Peter nodded again.
As Bruce gently took Peter’s right arm in his hands, the teen tensed up. Tony moved close and wrapped both of his hands around Peter’s left hand. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he murmured, and Peter let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Bruce succeeded in rolling up Peter’s sleeve without issue. “I’m going to tuck your hand under my arm to keep your arm straight.” Peter let him, and didn’t move as Bruce tied the tourniquet on his upper arm. But when he applied the antiseptic, the first touch of the cold liquid on Peter’s arm made him jerk violently and clutch at Tony.
“Whoa, there, kiddo. OK. It’s alright.” Tony grasped the kid’s shoulders to make him focus on him.
“I’m sorry,” Peter groaned, looking at Tony unhappily. “I can’t help it–”
“I know, it’s alright.” Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder and considered for a moment. “How about this.” He hopped up onto the exam table beside Peter, turned slightly toward the kid, and wrapped one arm around his shoulder, pulling him slightly toward himself and using his other hand to grasp Peter’s free hand. Peter sank into the semi-embrace and leaned his head onto his mentor’s shoulder.
“That alright?” asked Tony. Peter didn’t know, but he sure hoped it was. He was feeling seriously torn between humiliation and a desperate need to cling to Tony like he’d clung to May so many times. He nodded his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tony nodded at Bruce to continue.
Bruce, looking slightly guilty, once again straightened Peter’s arm by tucking his hand under his own arm, and gently reapplied the antiseptic. Peter whimpered at the feeling but didn’t jerk away this time.
“OK, Peter. Don’t move, alright? It’ll only hurt for a few seconds,” Bruce said.
Peter couldn’t help it. At the mention of pain from the needle, he sucked in a breath and desperately tried to move closer to Tony. He no longer cared how childish he looked. His anxiety was taking over. “Oh, God. Mr. Stark– I don’t think– I can’t–”
“Shh, Pete, it’s alright, kid.” Tony whispered. He could see that the kid was desperate for more physical contact, so he slid down off the exam table and stood right in front of him to help steady him. Before he could do anything else, Peter’s arms flew around Tony’s back and his legs came up to wrap around the man’s hips, and Tony found himself in a bone-crushing embrace.
Without thinking, he returned the hug and instinctively brought one hand up to the back of the kid’s head, which was resting on his shoulder.
Immediately, Peter calmed down immeasurably. He suddenly felt almost completely safe; maybe even more safe than he did when it was May holding him. May was loving and comforting when he had to get a needle, but with Iron Man holding him steady, he felt like he could take a hundred needles and still be alright. (Well, maybe just two or three, he amended.) He took a few deep breaths, and without looking, stretched out his right arm. “OK, go ahead.” The shakiness of his voice was muffled by Tony’s shoulder.
Bruce suppressed a smile at the adorable scene before him and once again took Peter’s hand in his own. Peter tensed and his breathing sped up, but he didn’t move. He was fine; he could do this. Everything was OK. In fact, the only thing that could make it more OK would be–
Slowly, the hand that Tony was resting on Peter’s head began to move, and Peter felt his mentor’s strong, callused fingers combing lightly through his hair. It had such a relaxing effect that Peter could physically feel his heart rate slowing down. He had just enough time to wonder if his mentor was a mind-reader before the prick of the needle drove all thoughts from his mind except don’t let go.
A few seconds later, it was over, and Bruce was taping a piece of gauze to his arm. But Peter still didn’t loosen his hold on Tony.
Bruce waited for a few awkward moments, then said, “I’ll wait outside,” and stepped out.
This jolted Peter back to reality, and he suddenly realized what he was doing, how foolish he must look. He pulled away from Tony and looked down at his knees, too embarrassed to meet his eye.
“There! See? Piece of cake!” said Tony jokingly. Peter laughed in spite of himself, but didn’t look up.
“Hey, kid,” Tony said, more seriously now, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder and dipping his head to catch his eye. Peter reluctantly looked at him and was warmed by the expression of understanding on his face. "Don't sweat it. Really. Happens to the best of us."
Peter cast his eyes down again. "Not to you."
“Uh, come again? Didn't I ever tell you about my anxiety problem?”
“No,” said Peter, frowning. Tony? Anxiety?
Tony huffed a laugh. “Really? Oh, it’s a doozy. Why don’t we go to that terrible pizza joint you like and I’ll tell you about it.”
Peter’s eyes lit up. Tony almost never ate out, usually preferring to have his meals delivered and eaten in private. “Wow! OK!”
“Can Bruce come too? Or will he need a while to get back into your good graces after putting you through that ordeal?”
“Oh my God. Dr. Banner , coming out with us for pizza?? I…I gotta text Ned. He’s gonna die.” Peter pulled out his phone.
“Ouch, kid,” said Tony in mock offence. “You don’t text Ned when I eat with you. Banner just practically stabbed you and you’re still nerding out on him?”
They left the medbay and met Bruce in the waiting room. He readily accepted Tony’s invitation to pizza, much to Peter’s delight.
Tony turned back to Peter. “Actually, why don’t you invite Ned too. I bet he likes me more than Bruce. That way at least one of you will still be nerding out on me.”
“Seriously?” asked Peter. “This requires a phone call. I need to hear his reaction.” He stopped typing his text and dialed Ned’s number instead, running ahead of the two men down the long hall toward the elevator.
Tony and Bruce could hear Ned’s ecstatic shouts over the phone long before they caught up to Peter.
Update 16 Nov 2020: Now with fanart!!! I commissioned this art from Soraempty after winning his Marvel Trumps Hate auction! It's so sweet and soft and EXACTLY what I imagined when I was writing this fic. Thank you!!! 💜💜💜 (right-click and choose "open image in a new tab" to see the full size!)
