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Peter had been feeling a little off all weekend. He could feel small aches throughout his body and his head thrummed in tiny bursts of pain. And his eyes hurt, like he hadn’t slept nearly enough. After the spider bite he didn’t get sick, so he chalked it up to his rough patrol night on Friday where he had stayed out later than usual to stop a robbery.
He spent the weekend lounging, trying to relax his body before school on Monday. They had a decathlon meet that the team had been preparing for weeks for and he couldn’t afford to not be at his best. So, he spent Saturday and Sunday lazily in front of the television, watching movies with his dad.
Watching movies only seemed to exasperate his eyes further, but it was a tolerable burn so he didn’t worry too much about it. Tony questioned his couch potato behavior, as it was out of the norm, but he explained he was trying to rest before the hectic week began so his father let it slide. Peter didn’t even go out on patrol, instead opting to go to bed early. While this worried Tony, he just assumed that his kid’s hectic schedule had finally exhausted him.
When Monday rolled around, Peter felt the same. He was annoyed since he had so clearly tried to avoid this, but didn’t have much time to sulk as he had to get ready for the meet. He got up, showered, dressed and rolled out of his room to eat something before Uncle Happy would take him to school. Tony had just finished cooking, and passed him a plate. “Morning Bambi, you feeling better?”
“Morning. Still feel tired but it is what it is.” Peter sighed.
Tony placed a hand to Peter’s forehead. “Well you don’t feel sick, that’s a good sign. Tell you what, get through today and if you still feel bad tomorrow, you can stay home.”
Peter hated missing school, but grudgingly agreed. After he finished eating, his father gave him the lunch he had packed and a hug before sending him down to Happy’s waiting car. “Hey Uncle Happy.” The driver looked back at him through the rearview mirror, “You feeling okay kid? You kind of look like shit.” Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah, just tired today.” With a nod, Happy started driving and rolled up the privacy window. Peter reveled in the silence and laid his head against the car window, letting the coolness of it help him relax.
When they arrived to Midtown, Peter joined his best friend to get on the bus. The decathlon was about an hour away and Peter hoped he would be able to try and sleep some. Once they boarded the bus, it became apparent that he would not get the chance as his teacher started drilling them with practice questions. Peter just groaned and pushed his face into the seat in front of him. The bus felt warm and stuffy and he felt like he was overheating in his jacket. He quickly stripped the jacket off and returned his face to the seat in front of him.
The teacher gave up on asking them anymore questions, which Peter was thankful for, but then Ned went into a long winded rant about Flash. Peter’s not even sure he was breathing between sentences. Luckily, it didn’t seem any response or reaction was needed out of Peter so he let him continue to ramble. It felt like only minutes had passed before a loud “Dude!” was heard next to his ear.
Peter’s head shot up and looked to find Ned staring at him with a worried expression. “What?” he asked.
“We’re here. Everyone’s already off the bus. C’mon.” Peter sighed, but followed. Stepping off the bus he had to shield his eyes, the sun seemed so bright today.
Once inside, all of his classmates started to do some last minute studying. Being out of the sun helped his eyes relax some, so he opened his notes and tried to review them. He couldn’t focus though. Everyone was being so loud, but they weren’t talking. He could hear their heartbeats, the shuffling of spectators coming to find seats in the auditorium and the rustling of papers as pages were turned in books. It felt like every sound was so magnified and he could feel a migraine forming.
“Dude, you okay?” Ned whispered, but Peter still flinched.
“Y-Yeah…Just a headache.” Peter groaned. Ned looked skeptical but didn’t push it, which Peter was grateful for. It was so hard to focus right now and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to find any more words.
As the decathlon was about to start, Peter and his teammates were ushered to the stage to take their seats. The minute the fluorescent lights hit him, his stomach rolled and he instinctively snapped his eyes shut. Even with his eyes closed, the lights felt too bright. Peter sat and pressed the palms of his hands over his eyes to try and block out more light, but everything just seemed to get worse. People were whispering now, preparing to start and it felt like they were yelling inside his head. His clothes felt itchy and stifling and he wanted nothing more than to rip them off. He could smell tuna sandwiches someone had packed for lunch, the smell of sweat that truly never left high school auditoriums and a mixture of different perfumes that almost had him dry heaving right there. It felt like all his senses were going haywire and Peter didn’t know what to do.
A scorching hand placed on his arm had him reeling back in his chair, only to see Ned’s horrified face staring at him. “Peter, what’s wrong? Is this a…late night activity thing?”
God, why was Ned screaming? He tried to cover his ears, but then the lights were blinding and every violent flinch of his body had his clothes scraping against him in the worst way. Ned opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a buzzer that signaled the start of the meet. The buzzer felt like it would rupture his eardrums. Even with his hands covering his ears, the sound buzzed in and overwhelmed him. He could feel his head pounding. He couldn’t take it anymore and got up and ran to the nearest bathroom.
Crashing into the bathroom, he fell to his knees in an open stall. The pain was so overwhelming he felt like he was going to pass out any minute. He was practically begging to be unconscious, but the darkness never came. Instead, he’s left dry heaving over a toilet as the smells of the bathroom flood his nostrils. A bathroom, was probably not a smart choice. But now that he is on the floor, he can’t seem to make himself stand. Spikes of pain shooting through him have him curling in on himself, too paralyzed to move, open his eyes or breathe too much.
He hears pounding footsteps rushing in causing him to drop his head between his legs. Peter can hear Ned talking, but it sounds like he has a megaphone and he really just wants him to stop. “Peter, what can I do? Do you need a teacher?” Ned frantically asks. Trying to convey how he feels doesn’t seem doable right now, but he manages to grit out a response. “Too much. E-Everything is too much.”
“I’m calling your dad, just sit tight dude.”
Peter took that as his cue to go back to sobbing on the bathroom floor. His brain registered that the floor was probably disgusting, and the smells only confirmed it, but the thought of moving had his stomach doing flips and he was positive his breakfast would come back up with a vengeance. Ned was frantically talking to Tony, before he heard, “Okay, will do. See you soon Mr. Stark” and Ned was back at his side. After his outburst, Ned was afraid to touch him, which Peter felt bad about, but was also grateful for. He couldn’t handle anymore sensations right now.
Tony’s hurried footsteps could be heard about thirty minutes later, no doubt having sped to get here as soon as possible. Peter heard his dad thank Ned and then the sound of someone walking away. “Petey-Pie? Can you look at me?” His body visibly shook and he quickly shook his head no, releasing a small whimper. “D-Dad. It hurts. Everything hurts.” He wasn’t sure what happened, but he heard his dad leave, which only made him shake harder. All he wanted was his dad.
When his father returned, he felt glasses being pushed on his face. “Hey buddy, I need you to move your hands okay? I’ve got something that might help. I’ll make it quick.” Tony’s whispering this time and it doesn’t hurt his ears as much, but the idea of removing his hands has him stiffen. He can feel his dad slowly start to pry away his hands, and he instinctively braces for the pain. Instead, he feels something large cover his ears, headphones his mind registers, and when his dad speaks again, it’s much softer. “Baby, can you look at me?”
He can feel his father lift him to sit in his lap and then something soft is placed over his head. So he slowly opens one eye. Sunglasses sit on his face, and there’s a blanket of some sort over both of their heads, cocooning them. His eyes still feel strained, but it’s more of dull pain so he opens the other eye. When he looks up, his father is frowning down at him. “Better sweetheart?” Peter can feel his throat closing, so overwhelmed to finally feel better and have his dad here holding him. A chocked out “Dad” is all he is able to manage. Tony is quick to tighten his hold and press kisses into Peter’s temple as the boy softly whines in the crook of his neck. “Heard you weren’t feeling good kiddo. Let’s get you home okay? Are the noise cancelling headphones helping?” A quick nod is the only confirmation he receives.
Peter lets his dad maneuver him under the blanket, making sure he’s wrapped up to avoid any light from filtering through. He whimpers when his dad ducks out from underneath the blanket, but then he’s quickly picked up into his father’s arms and he can hear his father shushing him. He wraps his arms around his dad’s neck and legs around his waist as he is carried away. He closes his eyes, just in case. The pain is now at a tolerable level and he focuses on the comforting feeling of his father holding him.
When they reach the car, Peter is saddened to think that he will have to let go of his father for the drive back. He feels himself being lowered in and hears the door close, but his father is still there. Tony must have had Uncle Happy drive him here, and Peter has never been more grateful for how intuitive his dad can be to exactly what Peter will need. The blanket stays on for the drive home, and Peter doesn’t move from his dad’s lap. Fingers rub at the back of his head and down his back, and he hums his appreciation. Peter can feel himself falling asleep, too exhausted from the awful day, but not before he feels a quick kiss to his head and his father whisper “Try to sleep baby. Daddy’s got you.”