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Peter was taking a break mid-patrol when he first found out.
Tonight’s patrol had been pretty uneventful—maybe all of New York’s supervillains were on vacation? –so he’d decided to string up a web between a billboard and a water tower and watch the sun set over the city while he scrolled through his social media. His Spider-Man Instagram account was a huge hit, as was his Twitter, and if he couldn’t find any crime to fight, at least he could reinforce his online presence.
And it was on Twitter that he saw it.
You Know Who I Am @TonyStark
I’m definitely going #hazelnuts for @benandjerrys Stark Raving Hazelnuts ice cream! #avengersicecream
What?
Official Avengers Mascot @SpiderMan
@TonyStark ????? there's?? avengers ice cream????
Mr. Stark… Mr. Stark had his own ice cream flavor?
Peter sat up in his web hammock. “Hey, Karen?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“Could you look up… uh, the Avengers ice cream for me?”
“Of course, Peter.” It took her only a few seconds to continue. “Two years ago, Ben and Jerry’s released an exclusive Avengers-themed ice cream line. Would you like to take a look?”
Peter’s HUD lit up with a screencap from the Ben and Jerry’s website and—okay, all the Avengers had an ice cream flavor. Even, Peter noticed with a frown, Wanda and Vision, who weren’t Avengers two years ago. That meant Ben and Jerry’s were keeping up to date with new additions to the team and releasing new flavors accordingly.
Except for Peter, for some reason.
His eyebrows tugged down. “What about Spider-Man?”
Karen sounded, if anything, amused. “I’m sorry, Peter, but there doesn’t appear to be a Spider-Man flavor.”
Why didn’t Spider-Man get an ice cream?
“This is—this is—I know I may have a tendency to be slightly dramatic, but this is literally the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”
He took a second to write one more Tweet before indignantly swinging off into the sunset.
Coolest Avenger @SpiderMan
Hey @benandjerrys you should make a spiderman ice cream flavor... I’m literally the coolest avenger
***
“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought I was getting the full Avengers deal!” Peter complained as he swung by a web from the lab ceiling. It had been a few days since he had experienced the worst heartbreak so far in his life, and the pain had yet to lessen.
He’d swung straight back to the Tower after finding out, ready to confront his mentor about the injustice he had just uncovered. When he’d stormed into the lab to ask about it, however, Mr. Stark had laughed. It was like he wasn’t taking this betrayal seriously.
At least Mr. Stark had brought Stark Raving Hazelnuts ice cream to their next lab session, though.
(Brought, not bought. Mr. Stark got the ice cream for free as part of the contract! No wonder Peter’s pain wasn’t waning with treachery like this happening all around him!)
“You’re getting the trainee Avengers experience,” said Mr. Stark, passing Peter a pint of Stark Raving Hazelnuts and a spoon. “Remember when we discussed it with you and May? And we agreed that since you’re not a full Avenger we wouldn’t bother with all the merchandising bureaucracy?”
Peter struggled to get the pint open. “I remember you saying my identity wouldn’t get revealed until I turned twenty-one. Or I committed a war crime. Whichever happened first.”
“Right. Of course that’s all you remember: the part where you can get me in trouble if you commit an act of terrorism. Remember when I specifically told you not to go that route? Because of the hell of a PR nightmare it would be for me?”
“Uh—no. Don’t recall that part.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“But anyways,” Peter continued, “you didn’t tell me that being a trainee Avenger meant I wouldn’t get my own ice cream flavor! I wouldn’t have said yes if I’d known that!” He shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and let the flavor roll over his tongue. “Huh. Kind of chalky. Not my favorite.”
“You’re dripping,” Mr. Stark warned, moving out of the way of any rogue melting ice cream. “Do you have to be upside down for this experience?”
“Yes. Food tastes better upside down.”
“Well that’s… creepy. Exactly how many spider characteristics did you inherit? You’re not going to eat your girlfriend or anything, are you?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend. And it’s only the lady spiders that eat their mates.”
“You calling them lady spiders isn’t making me feel great about what percentage spider you are.”
“Hey, stop changing the subject!” Peter carefully handed the ice cream back to Mr. Stark. “I am still distraught that I don’t have my own ice cream. You can’t distract me from that.”
Mr. Stark laughed to himself, shaking his head. “You know, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Spider-Man popsicles around.”
“I know,” grumbled Peter. “Clint showed them to me. They’re awful, Mr. Stark. They don’t even look like me!”
Maybe if Peter was a five-year-old he might have liked them. But all the other Avengers got a real, proper ice cream, not just a slightly wobbly popsicle that only bore the faintest resemblance to them and was so unhealthy it was probably radioactive. Or something.
Mr. Stark leaned back in his chair. “Well, if you want, I can sue them for using your image.”
“Don’t go picking fights with street vendors, Mr. Stark. It’s not a good look.”
Huh. Was Peter starting to sound like MJ?
“Fair enough.” Mr. Stark beckoned Peter down from the ceiling. “Your life is falling apart because you don’t have your own ice cream flavor. I empathize. Now, can we finally get some actual work done?”
Peter flipped down from the web. “Yes. I’m done complaining now.”
***
Ben & Jerry’s @benandjerrys
The Avengers line might be getting a new mascot flavor… #comingsoon #avengersicecream
***
When Peter swung by the tower one day following patrol, he found Mr. Stark waiting for him in the penthouse kitchen, a stupidly wide smile on his face.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked, glancing around suspiciously. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”
“I’m always pleased with myself. I’m brilliant.”
“Okay, but why specifically right now?”
Mr. Stark gestured with a nod. “Look in the freezer.”
“If J. Jonah Jameson’s head is in there, I’m not getting involved.”
Peter whipped off his mask and yanked the freezer door open, trying to hide his confusion. Mr. Stark was acting weird. He was often kind of eccentric—he claimed it was his birthright as a billionaire—but this was just suspicious.
He quickly scanned the drawers, not spotting anything particularly interesting. The freezer was full of mostly ice cream and frozen pizzas—honestly, the Avengers’ diets were awful—with a few forgotten bags of frozen fruit in the bottom drawer.
What was he meant to be looking for, exactly?
Then he took a closer look at the many pints of ice cream.
Peter peered over the top of the freezer door at Mr. Stark. “No way.”
Now Mr. Stark’s smug smile made sense. “Yes way.”
“Oh my God!”
Peter grabbed one of the pints of ice cream out the freezer. The label was decorated with an Avengers logo and, beneath the name of the flavor, a picture of Spider-Man striking a dramatic pose.
This was amazing. He was on the ice cream!
“How did you get this organized so quickly?” Peter asked, grinning brightly, as he wrestled the lid off the tub.
“I’m Tony Stark. I can get almost anything whenever I want.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark! This is so cool!”
The ice cream was an enticing mint green color, and there were chocolate chips in the shape of tiny spiders that almost perfectly resembled Droney.
“Spider-Mint Choc Chip,” Peter read off the label as he placed the ice cream on the island and fumbled around looking for spoons. “That’s… is that really the best pun they could come up with?”
Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. “If you start complaining that this isn’t good enough, I think Pepper will murder you in your sleep.”
“Pepper?” said Peter as he handed Mr. Stark a spoon. “How’s Pepper involved?”
“She had to sign off all the paperwork to let them use your name and image. Apparently, it took forever. The law takes trademarks seriously. So don’t start complaining. She only has the patience for one disappointment in this Tower and that’s me.”
Peter paused. “I didn’t realize Spider-Man is trademarked.”
“It was part of becoming a trainee Avenger. Didn’t you read the paperwork?”
“No. May did. She didn’t trust me to make good decisions.”
“Fair enough. I wouldn’t either.”
Peter shot Mr. Stark an unimpressed look as he tried a spoonful of his ice cream.
“Good?” asked Mr. Stark.
Peter nodded. “It’s great! I haven’t had mint choc chip ice cream in so long.”
Mr. Stark grabbed another pint out the freezer. “Come on. Let’s eat while we get some work done.”
Once in the lab, Peter and Mr. Stark got to work on a series of updates they were making to Peter’s web-shooters. They had a habit of getting jammed when Peter switched between modes too quickly, and it had led to a few close calls that Peter was not keen to repeat. There was nothing more disconcerting than his web-shooters not listening to him in the heat of a fight.
As they worked, however, Peter was slowly starting to feel more and more strange. He was developing a really weird headache. His headache almost… tasted minty.
And to make matters worse, the back of his throat was really itchy.
After the third time Peter struggled to suppress a cough, Mr. Stark looked up.
“We alright?”
“I’m—I’m fine,” Peter choked out. “Just—just got a tickly throat.”
“Do you want me to get you some water?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
As Peter waited for Mr. Stark to return with the water, however, the itching in his throat slowly grew worse and worse. He coughed, trying to relieve it, and when that didn’t work, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. That also didn’t really help.
And then when he went to draw in a breath, the air caught in his throat.
Peter’s face grew hot with panic. His hands grasped at his throat as he frantically tilted his head back and straightened his back, trying to open up his lungs and force air past the sudden tightness in his throat.
He—he couldn’t breathe—
The door opened.
“Pete?”
Peter gasped thinly, unable to draw in air.
“Mr.—Mr.—I can’t—I can’t br-breathe—”
“Oh, shit!”
Mr. Stark dropped the water he’d brought in. Glass shattered against the floor and footsteps thundered Peter’s way. Before Peter could even process what was happening, Mr. Stark had scooped Peter up off his stool and was sprinting back out the lab with Peter cradled against his chest.
“It’s alright, okay, kid? Just keep breathing.”
Peter coughed weakly and struggled to follow Mr. Stark’s advice.
From his awkward angle cradled against Mr. Stark’s chest, Peter could only just track where they were in the penthouse as Mr. Stark carried him to the medbay. Peter was wheezing, and his head was starting to spin.
When they reached the medbay, one of the nurses—Sarah—appeared by their side. Peter had become pretty familiar with all the nurses and doctors in the medbay after regularly getting injured over the last few weeks. The nurses and doctors, in turn, had joined Mr. Stark in getting frustrated with how frequently Peter found himself back in the medbay.
At least it wasn’t Peter’s fault this time?
Mr. Stark gently put Peter down on a bed as Sarah organized an oxygen mask for Peter and questioned the two of them about Peter’s symptoms.
“Does he have any allergies?” she asked.
Mr. Stark looked at Peter, his face twisted with concern.
“N’t… s’nce th’ bite,” Peter wheezed.
“Not since he became Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark translated.
Sarah hummed. “Has he eaten anything unusual today? Anything that’s not normally a part of his diet?”
“No,” said Mr. Stark.
A horrible thought struck Peter. “Wait.”
“Pete?”
“Th’—th’ ice cr’m.”
“The ice cream?” Understanding passed across Mr. Stark’s face. “Spiders hate mint.” He turned to Sarah. “He ate mint earlier. He could be having a reaction to that.”
No. No… Peter couldn’t be having a reaction to the mint. He couldn’t.
Sarah immediately began preparing an adrenaline shot as Mr. Stark squeezed Peter’s hand reassuringly.
Peter groaned to himself. He couldn’t be allergic to mint. He—he knew spiders hated mint, from all the research he’d done on spiders after first getting bitten. But Peter wasn’t actually a spider. He just had spider characteristics. It made no sense for him to have inherited spiders’ hatred of mint!
He couldn’t be allergic to mint. Not after he’d harassed Ben and Jerry’s until they made him an ice cream flavor and they’d finally, finally made Spider-Mint Choc Chip.
But when the adrenaline shot helped relieve his symptoms, Sarah advised Mr. Stark to get Peter officially tested for an allergy to various forms of mint.
He really was allergic to mint.
He was allergic to his own Ben and Jerry’s ice cream flavor.
Why did the world hate him?
***
“So—”
“Shut up.”
“You—you can’t even eat your own ice cream flavor—”
“Mr. Stark, shut up! It’s not fair! This is—this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”
Mr. Stark could barely get his words out around his laughter. “Sam will—Sam will love this.”
“You can not tell Sam. Just—let’s just pretend it never happened. He’ll never know. We’ll hide the evidence. You can eat eight pints of ice cream before he gets home from visiting his mom, right?”
“I hate to tell you kid, but everyone already knows you got your own flavor. There’s no hiding this.”
Peter groaned where he was sprawled out on his medbay bed. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe this! He’d begged—publicly, like, on Twitter—for an ice cream flavor. And now he was allergic to it, and he couldn’t eat it anyway!
If that wasn’t Parker luck, he didn’t know what was.
“The universe hates me,” Peter lamented, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s the only explanation. All I wanted was an ice cream named after me.”
“Which you did get,” Mr. Stark pointed out.
Peter scowled. “But I can’t eat it! Is the universe a genie or something? I didn’t realize I had to specify that I wanted to be able to eat my Spider-Man ice cream! At least you can eat Stark Raving Hazelnuts even if it’s disgusting.”
“Hey. That’s my ice cream flavor you’re disrespecting. It’s representative of me.”
“Oh, is that why I don’t like it?”
“Is that why yours is trying to get you killed?”
Peter pouted. “You think this is funny.”
“Yes.”
With a groan, Peter pushed himself up onto his elbows. The anaphylaxis had just been the cherry on top to make this day awful, even though his healing factor had taken care of it soon enough. It had left him absolutely exhausted, though, and he didn’t even have ice cream to help soothe his distress.
“I’m going to run away and find a new vigilante alter-ego,” Peter decided, “and then when Ben and Jerry’s makes a new flavor for my new alter-ego, it won’t be mint and I’ll actually be able to eat it.”
Mr. Stark smiled. “You do that. Can your new alter-ego actually have a sense of self-preservation?”
“No,” said Peter, with the lilting intonation of a monologuing protagonist in a Broadway show, “that is a constant of my being.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to be melodramatic?”
“I think May might have mentioned that once or twice. And Karen. And you, now I come to think of it.”
“Well, so long as you’re self-aware.” Mr. Stark leaned back in his chair, tilting his head in thought. “This day wasn't entirely a waste, because I did get half an answer as to what percentage spider you are. Next we’ll have to check if you’re allergic to eucalyptus.”
“Please don’t. Ignorance is bliss.”
“Or what about lavender oil?”
“Stop.”
“I wonder what would happen if I sprayed you with vinegar? Or cinnamon? What about if you eat a vegetable that’s been genetically engineered to be toxic to insects?”
Peter turned to Mr. Stark with beseeching eyes.
“Mr. Stark. I beg you. Please stop brainstorming ways to kill me.”
***
Coolest Avenger @SpiderMan
Thank you so much @benandjerrys for adding a spiderman flavor to your avengers line!! The half a pint I managed to eat before I had an allergic reaction was absolutely delicious <3