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He rubs his chest absentmindedly to relieve the pressure he’s been feeling for the past couple days, trying his best to focus on Ned who’s rambling about something that happened to him in English class.
“The principal showed up and he was pissed, right? And Flash tried to defend himself- Hey, are you okay?” Ned asks, eyebrows furrowing a little bit.
They’re jogging the track for gym class, about half a lap behind the rest of the class who chose track over basketball.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter says, quickly pulling his hand away from his chest. He doesn’t want to cause worry about a little bit of chest pain. Sure, it’s been a little over three months since the last time he broke a rib, so there’s no reason to have these pains, but he’s been through some nasty shit on patrol lately.
“You’re doing that thing.” Ned slows down a little bit, attention wholly focused on Peter. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been friends with you for like a million years. You’re doing that thing you used to do when you had asthma and were starting to feel your lungs doing that wonky thing before you’d start coughing.”
Peter rolls his eyes. “I don’t have asthma anymore, Ned. The spider bite took care of that years ago.”
“Doesn’t mean something isn’t wrong. Did something happen on patrol?”
The coach is gesturing to them from the front of the track and Peter waves at him to let him know they’re coming. They pick up the pace and Peter can’t help but rub his chest, just above his sternum to try to alleviate the ache.
“I mean, nothing out of the usual. Rescued a few people from a burning building, a few car and bike thefts, three muggings. I had a few burns and a few very minor cuts and bruises. But even Karen wasn’t worried.”
Ned lets out a sigh of relief. “And you’re sure it’s nothing? No rib injuries? Lung? Heart?”
“You know, you could be a doctor. I’d be happy to be a reference on your application. They’d give you a full ride for being Spider-Man’s personal nurse.”
Grinning, Ned shakes his head. “Mister Doctor Banner and Miss Doctor Cho are your doctors, and May’s probably closer to being your personal nurse. Plus, gross. Anyway, I’d prefer you to be a reference for something like computer sciences or tech as your guy in the chair.”
“Or biology? You know quite a bit about spider DNA now and you’ve got access to the only person with partial spider DNA. That gives you an advantage.”
*
MJ silently pushes her water bottle into Peter’s hands without even taking her eyes off the front board.
“Thanks,” he mutters hoarsely, taking a sip of the ice water for his throat. He’s been coughing a lot all class.
She shrugs and lifts her hand to answer a question.
“You sure you’re good, man? You’ve been acting like that time you punctured a lung and didn’t tell anybody,” Ned hisses, pulling on Peter’s sleeve.
“I swear, dude,” Peter says, voice raspy. He takes a few more gulps of MJ’s water before continuing. “You can check my logs and everything, nothing’s gone wrong for over a week. No injuries, no hospital trips, I haven’t even had stitches in six days.”
Ned gapes. Six days is his best record for no stitches in nearly six months when last Christmas he swore he wouldn’t get injured for Winter Break for May and Tony’s sake. He made it a whole fourteen days stitchless, and that’s without hiding any injuries.
“Alright… Well, if you’re sure…”
“I’m sure, Ned, don’t worry about it.”
He keeps MJ’s lavender-colored water bottle on his desk, sipping at it all class, and trying his best to focus on his teacher and taking good notes. It doesn’t go very well, his hand is a little shaky and sweaty, so his notes are scrawled, messy, smudged. He doesn’t know how he’ll pass his next test without being able to read his notes.
When the bottle is nearly empty, he’s about to raise his hand to ask to get more, but MJ’s called on first.
“Could I fill up my bottle?” she asks, grabbing the bottle from Peter’s desk. When the teacher nods, MJ walks out of the class without even a glance at Peter.
And when she gets back, barely two minutes later, she puts the full water bottle on his desk.
“If even MJ’s worried about me, that means it’s bad, isn’t it?” Peter whispers, leaning over to Ned.
Ned winces. “Yeah, Peter. It’s bad. You don’t look too great. I’m surprised you haven’t been sent to the nurse yet.”
Peter turns away, coughing into his fist. He reaches for the water bottle, but freezes when he sees blood spotting his hand.
“Shit,” he mutters, quickly wiping his hand on his jeans. He ignores both MJ’s and Ned’s worried looks and drinks some water, wishing he wasn’t still tasting metal.
“Peter, I-”
“I’m fine,” Peter says quickly. The red stands out a little too much against his blue jeans, but he pretends to ignore it, hiding his legs under his desk. “I’m fine.”
His friends drop the subject. Probably because they know it’s pointless to argue with him about it. If Peter decides he’s okay, nobody can change his mind.
Everyone gives up pretty fast with Peter’s stubbornness. Even Tony.
*
Peter had options, per se.
He could go to May, a nurse, and ask if she knew what was happening.
But he can’t put her under that kind of stress. He can’t do it.
He can’t after the time he accidentally let slip to May that he’d been shot on patrol.
“It was only a graze, I swear!” Peter had said quickly. “It’s nothing!”
Peter had heard May crying that night at the kitchen table, head in her hands. She didn’t know what to do. She was terrified of losing her kid.
So, Peter’s been trying to keep his injuries not only on the down low, but nonexistent. He’s not hiding injuries, he just doesn’t want her to worry. He can’t go to her. She’s already under enough stress as is.
And after Titan… After the Snap…
He could go to Tony.
But they fought recently and Peter doesn’t have the courage to fix it yet. He doesn’t know how.
Peter had made a mistake.
On patrol, he got himself hurt while trying to save other people. Not only was he hurt, but he failed to save everyone else. People got hurt because of him.
He was angry and he lashed out at Tony.
I wish I never met you!
Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how fast Tony’s face fell, how much hurt flashed across his expression.
And Tony had been angry because Peter had refused to call Tony while hurt. Because Peter had nearly died by himself in a dirty alleyway, maskless and bleeding out.
The conversation escalated into a fight way too quickly, and they haven’t spoken in two weeks.
Peter doesn’t know how to anymore.
He doesn’t want to talk to Tony because he doesn’t know whether or not he believes what he said.
I wish I never met you!
On one hand, he supposes it’s true.
If he had never met Tony, maybe all of the shit he’d been through wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t have nightmares about being crushed under the warehouse. He wouldn’t have a fear of the dark or of airplanes.
May wouldn’t constantly be worried about his wellbeing because he wouldn’t be doing more than helping old ladies cross the street and returning stolen bikes. He wouldn’t be trying to stand with the Avengers.
He wouldn’t have ever fought the Avengers. Or gone to space.
He wouldn’t have died on a planet far away from earth, scared and in pain.
He wouldn’t have watched Tony nearly die.
He wouldn’t have been through any of that shit.
But there’s a lot on the other hand to consider. A lot.
Anyway, he can’t go to Tony.
Or to May.
So he decides to let his healing factor kick in and take care of whatever’s wrong with him instead of trying to seek help.
*
He stumbles into the bathroom, half-awake and shaky. His head is pounding and his squinted vision is blurred and spinning. It feels like a migraine, the kind he always gets after a sensory overload.
He hasn’t had a sensory overload though, so he doesn’t know what this is caused by. His chest is still weird and achy.
Pushing a tissue up to his mouth, he coughs, hoping to alleviate some of the pain, but when he pulls away the tissue, it comes away spotted with blood again.
Mumbling curses, he dizzily lowers himself to the cold tiles, one hand holding onto the tissue and the other gripping his chest.
When he was little, he used to get asthma attacks out of the blue. It was always really scary and he always needed help whenever it happened. He would get so caught up in not being able to breathe that he wouldn’t even think about getting an inhaler.
Luckily, he always had someone who knew what to do. May, Ben, Ned, teachers.
This time, he feels scared and alone and panicked, but there’s nobody to come rescue him.
He grabs at his chest, gasping for air that his lungs don’t seem to want to accept. He can feel sweat tracing it’s way down his temples and his hands are shaking, head pounding.
He thinks he’s crying but he couldn’t really be sure. It’s not really in his top priorities to think about. All he can think is that he can’t breathe.
“Karen?” he calls out, coughing and stomach in knots. He crawls, pale-faced and trembling, across the bathroom floor to the toilet, clumsily shoving up the lid to spit some blood and bile out. “Karen, I- I-”
“Peter?” Karen speaks up from his watch. He looks down, squinting and wheezing, and desperation clawing at his lungs. “Your vitals are abnormal. I am unable to perform a scan, but I recommend contacting Tony Stark.”
His heartrate is much too fast, double as fast as it should be and his blood pressure is totally wrong, and his oxygen levels look wrong.
“What- Karen-”
He heaves for breath, dropping the bloody tissue on the ground to grab at his chest with two hands. His t-shirt rips in the center from his uncontrolled super strength, but it does nothing to help with the pressure on his chest.
“Initiating Sweet Dreams Protocol,” Karen says.
Immediately, music starts playing from his watch quietly. It’s classical music, the kind Tony played for him on the piano once, what feels like hundreds of years ago.
Karen starts counting for him, voice soft and gentle.
But this is a panic attack protocol.
Not whatever the fuck is happening to Peter.
“Karen- please- I-” Peter tries to say, but he’s like seventy percent sure he’s dying, so he doesn’t know how to ask for help, nor does he have any idea what she could do to help him.
She can’t get a scan from his watch beyond his basic vitals, so she has no idea what’s happening to him. He’s not about to call Tony at three in the morning, so that’s a strong veto. Otherwise, he doesn’t know what choices he has.
He coughs harder, as though his solution is to cough up his lungs to breathe easier, but all that comes up is blood and some gross mucus. The coughing must trigger some reaction from his diaphragm because the next thing he knows, he’s throwing up, and then he’s passing out from the pain.
*
Tony wakes to a ringing phone.
He hadn’t been having the best week overall. After his fight with Peter, he’d barely seen the kid.
He knows it’s been hard for Peter, so he’s been trying not to take Peter’s words to heart, no matter how much they hurt.
I wish I never met you ringing clearly in his head as he fumbles for his phone on his nightstand. Pepper pulls the covers over her head beside him and he realizes it’s only just past four in the morning.
But Caller ID flashes May’s name. Most likely an emergency.
“May? Is everything okay?” he asks quickly, sitting up and scrambling for a pair of jeans on his floor. He finds them by the dresser and clumsily tries to pull them on one-handed.
“Peter- he-” She sounds like she’s crying.
Tony balances his phone between his shoulder and ear, quickly doing up his jeans and tugging a sweater over his head.
“I’m on my way. Take a breath. It’s going to be just fine,” Tony says. He hurries over to Pepper, planting a kiss on her cheek and uttering a quick goodbye before he takes off towards the elevator.
May sucks in a shaky breath, but she lets it out as a sob. “He won’t wake up. Tony, please, he- I found him on the bathroom floor and he- Fuck, Tony-”
“I’m going to be there in three minutes, okay? And Happy will be right behind me and we’ll take him up to the tower, alright? You just have to give me three minutes.”
The doors open and his suit encloses around him immediately, call transferring to his helmet.
“Happy Hogan’s been notified and is on his way up to the garage for a car,” Friday informs him.
He takes off into the air without a second thought, pushing his thrusters up to max power and trying his best not to think about May crying on the phone.
He keeps up a litany of reassurances on the three minute flight to the Parker’s Apartment in Queens, and he’s sure the majority of it is gibberish, but it keeps his mind occupied.
Two and a half minutes later, he arrives to the Parker apartment, forgoing knocking and letting himself in.
Everything looks fine. Normal. Nothing looks out of place other than a knocked down picture across from the bathroom, broken glass pushed against the wall hastily.
“May!” he calls out, slowing down outside Peter’s bedroom. His blankets are strewn from the bottom of the bed to the floor, pillows knocked to the ground. His desk chair is knocked over.
“In here!” May calls out.
Tony crosses the hall, pushing open the bathroom door slowly.
May’s sitting on the way, tearstains down her blotchy cheeks, glasses askew. She’s got a firm grip on Peter who’s face is a scary shade of reddish blue.
“He’s barely breathing,” May whispers, one hand resting on his chest. “He- I don’t know what’s wrong. He needs to go to a hospital.”
“Fri, do a scan,” Tony says, tapping on his watch. It takes all of his willpower to not collapse into panic. It’s normally a thirty minute drive from the Tower to the Parker’s residence, but it’s nearing morning, the streets should hopefully be emptier than mid-afternoon or evening when they’re normally driving the distance.
A dim red light fills the room as the AI scans Peter’s limp body.
Finally, she speaks up. “Other than a few cuts and bruises, Peter seems to have pneumothorax which is-”
“A collapsed lung,” May cuts in. “He needs to go to a hospital, Tony. Like, now.”
“Happy should be here in, what, fifteen minutes if he’s driving fast enough,” Tony says, trying his best to act confidently and calmly so May doesn’t panic. “That’s too long, isn’t it?”
May doesn’t respond, one hand lifting to rub at her eyes under her glasses. Her jaw clenches and she drops her hand to Peter’s neck, keeping her fingers firmly over his pulse point.
“He’s got his healing factor, though, right?” His voice wavers, panic gripping his chest. “So, he should, I don’t know- I-”
Peter wheezes, painfully, closed eyes fluttering.
“Shit, Tony, we need a plan. You need to do something,” May begs.
Tony’s never seen her so panicked before. He’s only seen her as the confident, put together woman she is, almost to the same degree as Pepper.
He knows he needs to think of something, anything, or Peter may suffocate to death on the bathroom tiles. May’s a nurse, Tony’s… well he’s Tony. They can do something. They can’t just panic and let Peter die. That’s not going to happen.
Tony moves quickly to scoop Peter into his arms, hating how limp his body is, but he can’t dwell on that. He needs to focus.
May stands, pulling anxiously at her pajama bottoms, and fusses over making sure Peter’s head is supported against Tony’s chest.
Not a single word is spoken as Tony carries Peter out of the apartment and outside into the cool early morning. The streets are mostly empty, everyone out late already home and everyone leaving early not quite out yet.
He thinks he should’ve thought to grab something warmer when May suddenly appears in front of him, wrapping a quilt gently around her nephew.
“Call Happy. Find out where he is,” Tony instructs, ignoring the vague ache in his shoulders from carrying Peter. The kid feels lighter than ever, always having been smaller than most and lanky, but he normally carries muscles beneath his skin, now he feels just small. Fragile, even.
May nods, pulling out her old phone. It’s not important for right now, but he makes a mental note to make sure May gets a new phone with an unlimited plan. You know, just in case.
Peter stirs a little bit, chest heaving despite being unable to get any air into his lungs with the fluid.
“It’s okay, bubba. I know it hurts, I know. But you’re going to be okay. Happy will be here any minute and then Cho will make everything better,” Tony reassures, wishing he had another hand to push back Peter’s curls and wipe away the stray tears.
Peter’s shirt is stained in what looks and smells like vomit, and torn in the center like he’d tried to rip it off him. There’s claw marks down his chest, but Tony can safely assume it was just Peter that did it, not something else.
There’s dried blood on his chin, and some new blood smeared across his bottom lip. His hair is tousled and messy, some parts sticking to his sweaty forehead. He’s a terrifying shade of blue now, losing all color in his face and down his body. He’s barely getting any oxygen, but Tony has no idea what he’s supposed to do to help.
May returns and she plants a kiss to Peter’s forehead, wiping at her eyes again, before turning to look at Tony.
She swallows thickly. “Happy’s only a few minutes out. He contacted Cho and the Medbay is set up for Peter. She has a recommendation for what we can do with the things Happy has in the car.”
Tony nods, trying to offer a reassuring smile. “He’ll be okay.”
Nodding back, May takes a deep breath. “Do you have any idea-”
“I hadn’t seen him in two weeks. We fought and we just… fuck, the last thing-”
May shakes her head. “Don’t do that to yourself. He’ll be fine and you’ll both apologize, and everything will go back to normal. Don’t say things like that. Fights happen.”
A memory flashes before him. Peter confiding in him about Ben’s death… “I just- the last thing I did was shout at him. The last thing I said was that I hated him. And I don’t. I really, really don’t. If only…”
I wish I never met you!
“Do you think he knew? And he was trying to push me away or…”
May smiles, somehow. It’s broken and shaky, not reaching her eyes, but it’s an attempt. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. He knows no matter what he does, you’ll still love him.”
*
The little bit of wheezing air Peter manages is enough to keep him alive for the next three minutes while waiting for Happy, and then the three of them squish into the backseat, and Happy takes off once again, weaving down side streets to get back to the Tower as fast as he can manage.
He tosses a first aid kit at Tony.
“Cho said there’s a way you can help him temporarily,” Happy explains, keeping his eyes on the road. “There’s instructions in the box.”
As much as Tony hates giving the responsibility over to May, she’s the nurse. The only medical knowledge Tony has is from online research and his own personal experiences, which doesn’t really help too much in this kind of situation.
But May takes charge, face tightening. She takes the watch off Tony’s wrist and speaks to Friday, opening the kit and beginning to work diligently.
Tony has no idea what she does beyond seeing a needle that looks impossibly long, but then Peter’s chest genuinely expands.
“Shit, okay, did it work?” May says, searching her kid’s face. His eyes stay closed, but his cheeks are already gaining a little bit of color.
“We’re still ten minutes out, but Cho said it should be a temporary fix until she can take him in,” Happy says from the front seat. They must be going at least double the speed limit as Happy continues racing down the streets towards the tower. So far, so good on the traffic though.
*
Tony’s never been a patient person, but this is the worst experience of his life.
After waiting for Happy to arrive, waiting to get to the Tower, waiting to get Peter to Cho, they now have to wait while Cho has Peter.
May and him collapse on the couch outside the Medbay, both of them letting out a sigh.
“Shit,” Tony says. It’s all he can think.
“Yeah.”
Pepper walks in, worry covering her face. She looks a million times more put together. She’s dressed for one. In a pair of black jeans and a white button-up.
May’s still in pajamas, a pair of soft cookie monster pajama bottoms and a worn sweatshirt that looks like it probably belonged to Ben. And Tony’s wearing a very old, oil-stained Rock t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
“It’s probably going to be a little while until you can see him, so go ahead up. Take a shower, get changed, have some breakfast. Relax for a moment,” she says. “It’s been a stressful day for both of you and it’s only five am.”
May gives Pepper a hug, offering a quick word of gratitude and a worn smile. Tony follows suit before leading May up to the penthouse and showing her to the bathroom across the hall from Tony’s room. Normally, Peter’s bathroom.
He gets her some of Pepper’s comfier clothes and leaves them on the counter for her.
And the waiting continues.
*
Finally, after showering and breakfast and napping outside the Medbay, Cho finally emerges.
“He’s stable,” she starts, much too aware of Tony’s heart condition. “But it’s not… There’s some bad news.”
“Can we see him?” May asks. “I don’t want to hear any bad news until I see him.”
Cho offers a smile and nods, leading them back into Peter’s room. He’s awake already, looking tired and uncomfortable and at least a little bit in pain. He’s got an oxygen mask covering half his face, but he still tries to smile when he sees them.
“Alright, take a seat. I don’t want to have to treat anybody else today,” Cho says, standing at the foot of Peter’s bed as the adults sit on either side. “So, we’re all well aware of Peter’s… activities. And normally, it’s not bad because of his healing factor, but unfortunately, something went undetected for a long while which explains everything that’s been happening lately.”
Peter huffs a little bit, rolling his eyes. He lifts the oxygen mask to say quickly, “Not fair.”
Cho’s mouth quirks up in a smile before it drops again. “I’m not going to bother prolonging the diagnosis, but because of Peter’s lifestyle, the carcinogens… He has lung cancer.”
The room falls silent, no more than the machinery making noise around them.
“He has… How does-” Tony tries to say, one hand reaching out to grip Peter’s wrist. Pepper lays a hand over his, trying to offer any sort of comfort to him.
Cho takes a deep breath. “It’s like if he had been around someone who smoked at least a few times a week and the second hand smoke would’ve affected him. In this case, instead of smoke, it was other carcinogens. The number of times he’s thrown himself into fires to rescue people, the chemicals he’s come into contact with, etcetera. It all accumulated to lung cancer.”
“Is it… How bad is it?” May forces herself to ask. Her eyes are welling with tears and Peter fumblingly grabs for her hand. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I think, since we caught it as early as we did, with a combination of treatment and his healing factor, I think we can cure it pretty quickly. To be perfectly honest, with how soon his left lung collapsed and his right lung partially collapsed, I think his healing factor was trying too hard to fix the problem and made it worse. Which means, his healing factor is trying to fix it.”
“That’s a good thing?” Pepper asks. “He’ll be okay?”
Cho smiles. “Yeah. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he’s back on his feet in no time. Most people aren’t as lucky as he is.”
Despite having luck on their side, the hopelessness of the C-word hangs in the air. Cancer. Their kid has Cancer.
*
Peter hates the oxygen mask. He hates that he can’t talk to the three adults sitting around his bed. He hates that he wants to apologize to them but he can’t. He has to wait and listen and be patient.
Tony talks to him the most. He doesn’t leave the bedside chair. Pepper takes May out occasionally, to get fresh air and to talk and to make sure she doesn’t wither away at his side. Peter thinks they’re worried he’ll be panicked if he sees them panicked. In all honesty, he doesn’t care enough about the diagnosis, he just hates seeing them all so upset.
Two days of sleeping and watching TV and listening to Tony, Pepper, and May tell stories he can’t respond to, he’s finally switched to a nasal cannula.
The first thing he does, finally able to speak, he apologizes.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice raspy and hoarse from the disuse. He swallows dryly. “I’m really sorry. I-”
“Relax, buddy,” Tony says gently, helping him drink some water. “It’s okay.”
Shaking his head, Peter tries again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just- I was just… I know how hard it is to lose people and I- I almost died that night and I thought- I just thought it would be easier if you didn’t have to lose me. I thought it would be easier if I just- If I-”
Tony brushes back his curls with too much gentle care. “I love you and I don’t care how angry at me you get, that’s not going to change. It wouldn’t hurt any less to lose you if we weren’t talking, that’s not how it works.”
“I know- I just- I don’t know. I didn’t… I always think I’m so invincible and then-” He gestures angrily at his chest and cannula. “-and then this happens, and I don’t know. I don’t know.”
Pepper and May appear at the doorway.
“Before you apologize to me too,” May says. “You don’t need to.”
“I shouldn’t have made you worry like that. I hate- I hate it when you cry or worry so much about me. I can’t-”
They all shake their head at him.
“It’s not your fault, honey,” Pepper murmurs. “Trust me, I’ve been on the sidelines of a superhero for the better part of the last decade. It’s not easy, but we know what we’ve signed up for.”
Peter nods, wanting to cry out of the blue. He supposes it makes sense. This is a little too much for a kid to be dealing with.
But Tony, May, and Pepper, the strangest trio of co-parents he has, are all around him, all offering love and support and kindness, and he knows, he knows, he’ll be okay.
“I love you,” he cries, turning his face against May’s shoulder when she sits on the bed beside him. “I’m scared.”
“That’s okay. We’ve got you,” Pepper says. “Always. We’re not going anywhere.”
“And we love you.” Tony squeezes Peter’s shoulder and presses a kiss to the kid’s temple. “No matter what. You can’t get rid of us that quickly.”
*
Cho was right. With Peter’s healing factor trying it’s best to get rid of the cancer, paired with Cho’s treatments like surgery and chemo (Though radiation was taken off the table because they had no idea how Peter’s radioactive spider bite would react to the radiation therapy.), Peter’s recovery only takes the better half of the year.
He did all of his work online, and him and May moved into the tower throughout his recovery. It was annoying to have to carry around the oxygen tank and always keep his cannula in, but a six month recovery compared to the rest of the world made him not complain about anything, ever.
He was well aware of how much luckier he was.
And Pepper kept her word, everyone was there for him through it all.
They all took care of him and made sure he felt safe and at home throughout it all.
Ned and MJ visited every once in a while, and MJ gave him her lavender water bottle to keep. Ned brought a bunch of gifts from his classmates and teachers, including a Get Well Soon card signed by everyone. Including Flash who sent him a separate card that talked about how his uncle had lung cancer and how he wishes him the best.
It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, he knows that. But that doesn’t mean it was easy.
Peter still has a lot to work on. The guilt that’s constantly tight in his chest, the weight of the world he’s accepted onto his shoulders, the grief that’s been locked into boxes inside his head. How he pushes people away for their good no matter how much it hurts, how he refuses to ask for help no matter how much he needs it, how he doesn’t believe he deserves this kind of love.
He’s lucky. He knows that much.
He knows, now, that he would never trade knowing Tony for anything. He wouldn’t wish the spider bite on anyone else, but for today, for now, he knows it saved him. So, he’ll be grateful.
*
Tony and Pepper donate a huge sum to cancer research for people who aren’t as lucky as Peter was.
Tony, Cho, Bruce, and Shuri start working together to find a cure.
Peter, as Spider-Man, visits children’s hospitals every weekend.
May starts volunteering at one of the hospitals Peter visits frequently.
Good things can come from the bad like a phoenix emerging from the ashes.