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“Peter, Peter, are you with us?”
Peter came out of a fog, suddenly aware of his math teacher’s voice talking to him.
“Sorry, Mr. Trun,” Peter mumbled. He glanced at the board in the front of the room, eyes swimming from sleepiness, trying to figure out what was going on.
The bell rang, and everyone started moving; Flash groaned, upset that Peter hadn't gotten to make a fool of himself.
“Peter,” called Mr. Trun. “Please see me in the front of the room before you head out.”
Flash snickered, happy that Peter was finally getting what was coming to him.
Ned caught Peter’s eye as he headed out of the classroom, but Peter nodded at him that it was ok.
He slumped to the front of the room, wary of what his teacher could possibly have to say to him or yell at him about.
“Peter,” began Mr. Trun, “is something wrong? At home, or school, or otherwise?”
Peter shook his head, careful as he was to not to move it too much. He had gotten a nasty concussion on his patrol that morning, but was trying to fight its symptoms because of the prospect of working with Mr. Stark that afternoon on whatever cool new science project he had cooked up for them this week.
“Mr. Trun, I'm fine. I guess I'm probably just a little tired from being up late last night… studying, of course.” Peter stretched and yawned for good measure; Mr. Trun raised a singular I can't believe you just said that eyebrow, but told Peter to get to his next class.
Peter nodded in agreement that he would, but the next thing he knew, he was somehow in Mr. Stark’s lab. He stumbled into a nearby table, and the out of the suit Iron Man looked up in surprise.
“Peter! The hell are you doing here, kid?” There was a smile on Mr. Stark’s face, but his eyes had a shred of anger in them. Probably because I’m supposed to be in… fifth period?
“Mr. Stark, what time... is it…” There was such a cloud over Peter’s mind, and it didn’t help that the lights in the lab were so bright…
“Peter, it’s 11:00! I know you skip sometimes to help prevent crime, but coming to the lab? You need to be more responsible…”
Mr. Stark kept talking, but Peter had no clue what he was saying. Somewhere between asking the time and now, his hearing had dropped out. His vision was going the same way, and Peter swayed dangerously before grabbing the edge of the nearest lab bench.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Listening to… listening to what? Is something important happening?
The lights are so bright.
My head hurts so much, I can’t really focus on-
“Peter!”
Peter turned his head toward the sound, but too fast - his eyes slid back in his head as he slid down to the floor.
__________________________
“Dum-E, be useful!” Tony yelped, lunging for a boy he knew he couldn’t reach. Thankfully, the stupid little robot was in the right place at the right time, its metal arm thrusting out to catch Peter by the back of his shirt.
Tony rushed to finish catching Peter, arms out to hold him as he lowkey collapsed from the boy’s weight. He might have been small, but he packed a lot of muscle into his little body. Tony let out a soft “oof,” wishing he hadn’t skipped the gym the last week.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.!” he called. “Mission report from Karen, now. I need to know what the kid did.”
“Sure thing, boss.” A pause, then, “It appears as though he was fighting the Scorpion this morning. Peter filed it under ‘Beat and Yeet,’ which I have grasped from Karen as a quick fight he has before school. However, according to Karen, Peter was the one who took a beating this morning; he sustained a Grade Three concussion, but still went to school anyway, against the advice of Karen. This has led to him being in your lab, presently.
Peter chose this moment to start puking, so Tony rolled him over to his side, patting his back and rubbing it in circles.
Tony sighed, “Peter, what are we going to do with you?”
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Peter woke up to lights too bright, walls too white, and Mr. Stark.
Peter’s eyes blurred a little, but he still reached out for his mentor’s hand.
“Ms’r… Ms’r Star’?” Peter’s words were as blurry as his eyes, but Mr. Stark still started awake, grasping Peter’s hand in his own. “S’ry… abou’ the m’ss in the laaab. I’ll… clean it up.”
Mr. Stark smiled at him, and Peter knew that all was forgiven.
“Peter,” he said. “You can come faint in my lab any time. Just maybe… don’t go to school first next time?”
“Ha ha ha… s’rry, I had a… Spanish… quiz.”
Mr. Stark laughed. “Yeah, genius, you and your concussion managed to get a solid 12% on that quiz; your teacher was a little confused as to what most of the markings on the paper meant. He was glad I called and explained the situation to him, because he said, and I quote, “I don’t think Peter was writing in Spanish, English, or even Arabic.””
Peter groaned. “Do you think... I’ll have... t’ take the quiz again?”
“Kid, you can worry about that later. Right now, just rest, ok?”
Peter nodded, then closed his eyes, and the boy and father slept peacefully.