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Peter sits tight in the back of Mr. Stark's car. He feels gangly, like hes got to keep his knees together and arms folded over his lap, or he'll.... Peter up the place? He doesn't know, but he tries to actually pay attention. It's difficult, here, in the back of a millionaire super hero's car, but he's trying.
"We'll fix your suit, too. Not healthy the way you're wearing it."
"Oh, thanks, Mr. Stark. Um, what's uh, what's not healthy, though?"
"You can't breathe, kid. I can hear you wheezing. You can't be Spider-man like that."
"I don't, uh?" Peter knows he's wheezing, of course, knows his binder went past the point of crushing his ribs hours ago, but Mr. Stark couldn't possibly-
"Kid," Mr. Stark says, and he only has to glance at Peter's backpack for it to click: a tiny blue-pink-white striped button, right there on the front pocket, one he'd gotten himself, next to a bi flag Ned had given him.
"Oh," Peter says, feeling stupid.
"Plus," Mr. Stark says, "we gave you those physicals, remember? Sorry to pry. Needed to know what to give the new suit. Didn't have a healthy compression element worked out yet, but we can, now, so we will."
"Oh." Peter says, feeling somehow stupider.
"Hey, look, kid," Mr. Stark fumbles, a bit. It's still amazing to Peter that a man like Tony Stark could fumble at anything, ever. "Peter. Look. You're not alone, yeah?"
"Sure, Mr. Stark," Peter says, because of course he isn't alone. He has MJ and Ned, and they're just like him- Ned had given him the button the week they started dating. Plus, the world's huge. New York is huge. Of course he isn't alone.
"I mean here, with the Avengers," Mr. Stark says. "There's not a single one of us that's- well. You're safe, is all I'm saying."
Peter's arms and legs relax, a little. He's a little less scared of Petering up the place. "Thanks, Mr. Stark. I wasn't worried."