Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What the fuck, Peter!!” – Shit. Tony was pissed.

“Mr. Stark, I’m so sor-“

“Ooh no kid. Nonono, sorry doesn’t cut it! Sorry doesn’t even CLOSE to cut it this time! How could you be so fucking stupid!”

Peter completely freezes, eyes wide as he stares at his mentor’s furious face.

“You had one job. ONE job. But you just. Couldn’t. Follow. The fucking orders. You just had to do exactly what I told you NOT to do! I told you that under no circumstances you were to go in! I told you to stay put!”

“I thoug-“

“You put EVERYONE in harm’s way by leaving your position, Peter. Do you even realize that? Every single one of us. And at that point it’s not about accomplishing the fucking mission it’s about endangering your team mates!”

“Tony”, Steve said softly.

“How am I supposed to trust you with all our lives on a mission if I can’t trust you’ll do as you’re told?! This is not going to work. I NEED to be able to trust every. Single. Team member. It just doesn’t work like this, kid. I just can’t deal with this shit”

“That’s enough, Tony”, Steve warns.

“Fine. I’m done with this anyway. I’m so done with this bullshit” Tony spits in return. “As soon as we’re home, you will let Bruce check you over and then Happy will take you home.” There was no concern, only coldness in his voice.

“I’m fine, I don’t need Dr. Ban-“

“Do NOT” Tony raised his voice before Steve warningly took a step forward. “Do not even think about fighting with me on this one” he bit through gritted teeth instead.

Tony turned around and stormed off, slamming the door open on his way out.

And that is when Peter broke. The sobs he’d been holding in broke free as he cupped his face in his hands and just crumpled down.

“Hey, Pete, honey, come on, don’t cry. He doesn’t mean it. You know how Tony gets sometimes. He didn’t mean to be so-” Natasha was the first to try to soothe.

“But he’s RIGHT, he’s RIGHT, I ruined e-everything, the m-mission is ruined and it’s all my f-fault and I ca-an’t ever do anything right and I-”

“Shhh, Pete, that’s not true, don’t let his frustration get to you, ok? It’s not your fault. You acted on istinct, there’s nothing you can do about it.” She tried to ensure him when Sam chimed in. “He’ll get over it, give him some time, he’s just pissed he didn’t get his way right now”

“He, he- he said he can’t de-deal with my shit, he doesn’t want me-e here anymo-ore.”

“Oh, honey” Nat sighed and wrapped Peter in her arms as he continued to sob. “It’ll be fine, ok? He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t, you hear me? Shhh, it’ll be ok.” , she soothed.
Peter continued to sob and heave until finally exhaustion took over. Sobs turned into hiccups and hiccups turned into quiet tears as he finally fell asleep in Nat’s lap.

_______________

It had been 10 days since the mission where he gloriously fucked everything up. 10 days and no word from Tony. While Peter and Tony would usually text or talk at least every other day, there had been absolute radio silence since last week. None of them commented on the fact that Peter hadn’t shown up at the tower last Friday, as he usually would every weekend. An unspoken understanding between them that that certainly wasn’t going to happen after what had gone down on the quinjet on their way home from last week’s mission.

Peter had woken up with a splitting headache the day after the failed mission. Why did crying always have to cause such major headaches? Ugh. He had looked at himself in the mirror, silently berating himself for thinking he could’ve kept up with the Avengers on one of their missions. His face had been a blotchy, swollen mess, eyes rimmed red with exhaustion and exasperation. He had considered texting Tony, saying he was sorry and asking to talk it over. The first day he had chickened out. Too scared of his mentor’s rejection and further scolding. And the second day he’d decided that no, this wasn’t all his fault.
Yes, he’d left his position and yes, he’d acted against direct orders. And yes, he was willing to apologize for it. But he had done it all with good intentions and Mr. Stark? Well Mr. Stark had been an absolute ass about it.
Peter got mad just thinking about it. He had simply tried to help out, had left his position because his spidey-sense had told him Mr. Stark was in immediate danger, he couldn’t have known how everything was going to go to shit after that.

The mission had failed, Sam, Steve and Clint having to go in a second time a few days later in a much more high-risk stealth mission to retrieve the needed intel. But no, it wasn’t his job to make the first move. It was Tony’s. He had been the one yelling and swearing like an absolute dick. He was the adult for God’s sake.

10 days after the mission Peter started feeling like shit. He had been in an awefully cranky mood ever since the mission but today his mood had been topped up with an overall feeling of just feeling, well, like shit.

“Dude, you have to stop sulking like this, man. You barely touched your lunch”. Ned had been understanding and veeery cautious as to how he treated Peter after the latter had told him of the shit show that was last week’s mission. “Come on, man. He’ll come around eventually.”

Peter gave him an irritated look “I’m not sulking, ok? Just – don’t know. Feel weird today.”

“You getting sick?”

Peter grunted. “Can’t get sick, remember? Don’t know. Just, ugh don’t know. It’ll go away soon I’m sure.”

It didn’t go away though. Peter felt worse by the hour. On the way home he thought he might just make the subway ride an extremely memorable one for everyone around him. Not necessarily pleasant, but surely memorable.

He shakily tried to fit the key into the lock on their apartment door, mumbling curses and silently begging for the key to go in before he was going to lose the battle against his cramping stomach. As soon as the lock clicked he slammed the door open and swung himself onto the bathroom floor, retching the remains of his lunch into the toilet bowl.
“Ugh, God, gnnnn” Peter moaned as he sunk back, heavily leaning against the bathtub. Whatever this was, it wasn’t letting him get any rest throughout the entire night. Dry heaving was the worst. He had never been more thankful for out of town nursing conferences, ensuring May wouldn’t have to see him like this. She wasn’t due to be home until Saturday.

The next morning he wasn’t feeling any better. The throwing up part had let up a bit but the cramping and feeling like shit part was still going strong. He decided to text May that he wouldn’t be going to school today.

“Do you need me to come home?” No, he definitely did not want May to have to cut her trip short. Apart from the long conference days she'd long been looking forward to the the nights and dinners with her coworkers. 

“I’ll be fine, just need to sleep it off I guess”

“Kay, hon, I will let the school know. Text if you need me!

Gtg, busy schedule here!
Feel better soon!
Larb you!”

He sighed and closed his eyes, exhaustion from last night making him quickly drift of in an uneasy sleep. It wasn’t until around lunch time when he woke up again to continuous buzzing of his cell phone. Checking his notifications he found countless text messages from Ned. Some apparently from earlier this morning.

“Dude, you still coming today?”

“Better hurry, Mr. F is not cool about tardiness.”

“You sick? Mr. Fliginger says you’re marked absent?”

“Peter?”

And then there were those that had woken him up with a steady stream of vibrations just now:

“Shit”

“Dude”

“not good”

“Flash keeps yelling around that you’re only feigning sick to get out of tomorrow’s field trip to SI”

“Shit he’s got everyone buying it”

“Says you’re scared your fake internship will finally blow up in your face”

“Dude you need to come, you’ll never live this one down if you don’t show up tomorrow”

“Hope you’re feeling better btw”

“Sorry”

“Should’ve asked that earlier maybe”

“FUCK.” Peter exclaimed “Fuck, fuck FUCK!” Frustrated he let his head plop back down on his pillow as he dropped his cell back on the bed and covered his face in his hands. He had forgotton all about this stupid field trip to SI. The tower was a popular field trip destination for schools from across the state, his teacher had booked in MONTHS ago. Why, of all days, did it have to be tomorrow? He did not want to run into Mr. Stark and he certainly didn’t want to run into Mr. Stark puking his guts out. Shit. This was going to be a disaster.

Chapter Text

12 days of radio silence. They’d never gone this long without talking or texting. Ever since Germany, they hadn’t even gone three whole days without contact.
Looking up to Stark Tower, Peter felt dread set in his stomach. Had the tower always looked this dark and gloomy? Gosh, how had they let this happen?

“Ey Penis!” of course Flash would have to add to the misery that was his life today. “You ready to be humiliated?” he barked out, arching his back in laughter as his trusted followers chimed in.

“Morons” Peter mumbled as he silently followed the group into the foyer of Stark Tower. He didn’t want to be here. This was last place he’d want to be right now. For more reason than one. He’d rather be anywhere else. Anywhere. Preferrably his apartment’s bathroom, where the trusted toilet bowl was close.

“Good morning Midtown Tech” an overly chipper, young employee of SI announced, holding a shiny new Stark Pad. “Welcome to Stark Industries. My name’s Julius, I’ll be taking you for your tour today. Before we take the elevators up, we need to get you all through security. Please put your bags on this belt and step through the scanner. This is our visitors only scanner. You can see the employee entrance over there“ the group dutifully followed the direction of his hand as he pointed towards the other side of the lobby “they will simply scan their badges for faster access. This scanner here scans and instantly prints visitor passes so you’ll each get an individualized pass once you walk through.”

“So where’s your employee badge, Parker?” Flash asked suggestively and grinned his stupid sly smile.

“I- I don’t have one” Peter mumbled more to himself than to Flash as a sudden realization hit him. What if Tony had restricted his access to the tower? What if he never wanted him to set foot in it again? What if he had instructed Friday to watch for him and prohibit his access? Would he have to stay in the lobby and wait all day for his class to come back? Or worse, be kicked out completely?

He felt his stomach drop. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t step through the scanner. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, his stomach was in knots. He felt nauseous, the mere thought of food already made him gag and he just felt cold and tired and now, now he might find out that Mr. Stark had banned him from the tower.

“Welcome back, Peter” FRIDAY announced as he shakily stepped through the scanner. And suddenly all eyes were on him. Julius incredulously jerked his head up from the machine printing the badges, frantically typing on the Stark Pad to find out if there had been a mistake with the last student to pass security. As he typed in Peter’s information a second time to get his badge printed, FRIDAY chimed in “No badge needed, Mr. Zellner. Access to all areas granted.” Julius’ eyes widened alongside everyone else’s. The AI had never addressed him personally before. Wow.

“Right, ok, uhm, right, all areas, right” Julius, aka Mr. Zellner, hectically mumbled “Uh, ok. All done with security then. Follow me everyone!” he finally managed as he led the group to the elevators.

Peter realized he had been holding his breath this entire time, afraid his whole world might come crashing down in front of his entire class upon hearing about a possible banishment from the tower. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to hold back the tears if FRIDAY had said anything like that. He was barely able to contain them now, his stomach violently disagreeing with every step he took.

_____________________________

“Sir, Peter Parker has just entered the lobby of the tower.”

“What??” Tony nearly banged his head on DUM-E’s arm as his head jerked up from his current project at the information FRIDAY had just supplied. His heart started thumping. Peter. He had come. Gosh, he should’ve called the kid days ago. They would finally have a chance to talk things through. He felt so stupid, humiliated at the thought of how he lost his temper. He’d apologize, he’d tell the kid how sorry he was for being such an incredible jerk. Suddenly a thought interrupted his stream of possible apology-scenarios. He looked at his watch. It was Thursday. 9.08 am. What was Peter doing here at 9.08 am on a Thursday? “What is he doing there? How come he’s not in school?”

“It appears he is joining his class on a tour of SI. Midtown Tech made a booking with our tour service last October.”

Tony’s heart sank a bit. “What? Why didn’t I know about this, FRI?”

“Sir, it appears that I have never been asked to supply this kind of information.”

Tony huffed. “Right”

“As per the Itsy Bitsy Ouchie Protocol I also need to inform you that Mr. Parker’s temperature is slightly elevated.”

“How elevated?”

“His temperature is sitting at 99.8°F. It has gone up 0.2 degrees since entering the tower.”

“Any signs of unjury?”

The room was silent as FRIDAY ran his diagnostics. “None detected.”

Hm. Why were Peter’s vitals out of range?

_____________________________

“You’re at the tower and you didn’t tell me?”

Shit. Peter is silently kicking himself as he reads Tony’s text. Of course FRIDAY would tattle. He hurriedly puts his cellphone in his pocket before Mr. Harrison sees. That man is the most notorious cell-phone stealer. He doesn’t f- around with first and second warnings. He sees your cell out, he takes it. And your legal guardian gets to pick it up. It’s only a few seconds later that Peter feels the buzzing in his pocket again.

“And now you’re ignoring me?”

“And now you’re spying on me?” Peter mimics Tony’s question in his own text as he feels anger rising inside of him, feels how it makes him feel hotter by the minute, before putting his cell on mute. It’s why he doesn’t see Tony’s third text.

“FRIDAY says your temperature’s up. Are you ok?”

_____________________________

It’s getting harder and harder to concentrate on the tour rather than the way his stomach seems to cramp with each new step. Not like any of the stuff Julius is telling them is particularly interesting to him. He knows all this. He knows how many technological marvels Tony built into this tower, how many patents he’s holding (372 actually, not 369 as Julius just so eloquently misinformed his class mates), knows all the wonderful projects the employees of SI get to work on because he’s one of those employees. Was one of them, his subconscious supplies, and it makes the knots in his stomach become even tighter.
What the hell is wrong with his stomach anyways? And why is it so freakishly hot in here?

“Hey” Ned quietly whispers as he nudges his arm “you ok?”

“Fine” Peter clips back.

“You don’t look so fine, man. You sure you don’t need to, like, puke again or something?”

“Might be more sure of it if you people didn’t keep mentioning it” Peter bites back, immediately sorry for being responsible for the subsequent look on Ned’s face. “I- , Ned, I’m-“

“Hey, no worries, man. You’re not feeling well, I get it. It’s just- you’re, you know- sweating and stuff and you keep holding your stomach like you’re trying to keep something in there that doesn’t really want to stay in there.”

“I- “, he sighs “as soon as we’re done here I’ll go home and lie down. I’ll be fine until then, ok?”

“Yeah, “ Ned says hesitantly, his eyes still mustering Peter “ok”

Julius seems to be in no hurry at all to get this god awful tour over with. This must be the longest, most excruciating few hours of his life, Peter thinks. He’s stopped trying to listen a while ago, now fully concentrating on not puking all over the floor of the exhibition room they’re currently in, trailing way behind the group. He’s sunken so deep into his new-found mantra of “don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke”, that he barely hears FRIDAY as she addresses him in a whisper.

“Peter. Mr. Stark would like to see you in his lab.”

“What? Now??” Peter irritatedly whispers back.

“Yes, Peter. Please step into the elevator, I’ll take you up.”

“What the hell, FRIDAY. I’m on a field trip right now.”

“Mr. Stark is aware.”

“Well, I can’t just up and leave my class now, can I?” Now Peter is mad. Who the hell does that guy think he is? This is a school trip for God’s sake. He angrily marches forwards, wincing when his stomach doesn’t agree with the harsh movements.

“Mr. Stark would like you to answer your phone, please. I’ve already pushed the call through.”

“What?” Peter hisses at the ceiling as he noticed his cell light up through his jeans’ pocket. He grudgingly takes it out. Anger rising within him as he starts to feel even hotter with rage.

“Unbelievable” he bites out as he answers the phone.

“Peter, will you please listen to me for a second?”

“Well you’re making damn sure I have no other choice, aren’t you?”

“I just want to know you’re ok, Pete. FRIDAY says your temperature has been steadily rising since you came in today. Are you aware that it’s currently at 101.8 °F? You have a high fever, you shouldn’t be-”

“And what do you care?”

“Pete, I- come on, that’s not fair. Of course I care. Can you please just tell your teacher you’re not feeling well and-“

“You wanna talk about fair?? Seriously? You? You wanna talk about how fair it was when you-“ Peter almost doubles over when a sharp pain jolts through his stomach. “You know what?" he grits out "I can’t do this right now. I’m on a fucking field trip Mr. Stark. Trust me, I’d rather not be here, if I had the choice. Please just ignore that I’m here.” and before Tony could even start he hangs up.

“…got some nerves” Peter aggravatedly mumbles as he searches the huge exhibition for his group which has moved on to a display of the beginnings of Stark Industries under Howard Stark. He feels hot now. Anger burning his insides. 101.8°F? Yeah, sounds about right, he thinks. His vision swims a little as he shuffles over to rejoin his group. Must be the angry tears he’s trying to hold back, right?

____________________________

“…so that is when Tony Stark announced SI’s withdrawal from the weapons industry to-“ Julius suddenly stops mid-sentence as his eyes widen and fixate on something behind the group he’s currently leading through the part on the more recent history of SI. Following his gaze, the group collectively turns around and gasps at what they see. Tony Stark, gingerly strolling over from the elevator doors, a forced, tight-lipped smile on his face. His eyes fixed on Peter, who feels like his heart just stopped and lowers his gaze to the ground.

“Ah, Midtown Tech. Welcome, welcome. I hope Mr. Zellner here has been giving you a most enjoyable tour so far.” Tony’s eyes finally leave Peter as he strolls over to where he’s standing, now eyeing both the teacher and Julius. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. Would you mind if I steal this one for a second?” he briefly nods his head in Peter’s direction. It’s clear he’s not asking anyone’s permission really. “Please, continue with your tour Mr. Zellner. I’m terribly sorry, I’ll have him back in a moment.”

“Uh, certainly, Mr. Stark”, Julius says. This had never happened before. Tony Stark had never shown up during a tour, let alone asked to speak to a visitor. Unsure what to do he motions the group to move on to the next exhibit further down the exhibition hall, leaving Tony and Peter to stay behind.

“You have got to be kidding me” with the group out of earshot, Peter has now locked his eyes with Tony’s.

“Peter, listen-“

“What the fuck do you want?” Peter’s word are dripping with an anger that Tony’s never seen in him. He’s taken aback at the violent rage in his eyes. Was this really his kid? The kid with the sweetest, most innocent doe eyes he’d ever seen?

“Well, I was just about to tell you if you’d let me finish a whole sentence for once”. Tony is irritated, Peter can tell. He doesn’t care though. The mood he’s been in ever since the mission accumulates with his frustration with how his whole body aches, his concentration wavering and stomach churning.
“I’m taking you to Med Bay, Peter. Your fever is at 102,7°F. You need to see a doctor.”

Peter snorts sarcastically. “You’re not taking me anywhere Mr. Stark. You’ve lost your right to boss me around when you kicked me off the team, remember?”

“Pe- what?? Pete, I didn’t kick you off the team. I never said that. Why would you even think that?”

“You said you were done, that you couldn’t deal with this bullshit anymore. You said this is not going to work.”

“Pete, you misunderstood me, I wasn’t-”

“Of course.” Peter is seething now “Of course I misunderstood, stupid little Peter, can’t do anything right anyways, am I right?”

“Pete, can we please talk this out once we get you down to Med Bay? You've been at the tower for not even two hours and your temperature has gone up by almost 3 degrees. Bruce is already waiting. Please, Pete. There’s no way you’re not feeling awful with a fever like that.”

“Forget it Mr. Stark. I’m on a school trip. I intend to finish it.”

Tony blinks. “Right, you’re… on… a school trip.” he says slowly “You’re on a school trip.” He repeats, realization suddenly sparking in his eyes as if he just made up his mind. “And I’m your emergency contact." he claps his hands once, mind made up "I’m signing you out.” He spins around, leaving a stunned yet fuming Peter behind, before the latter can even say anything.

Peter can feel the heat inside of him become overwhelming, feels all kinds of emotions crashing down on him, dread, fear, betrayal, anger, pain, despair, it makes his vision spin, makes his knees feel weak. He sees Tony make his way through the crowd of students towards his teacher when he sees darkness creep into the edges of his vision, realizes he can’t hold himself upright anymore as the world tilts and turns black.

Sudden shrieks and gasps make Tony spin around from where he was talking to Mr. Harrison.

The students are running towards the elevator, in the direction of where he had just been standing with Peter. - Peter.

“Peter!” Tony yells as he pushes through the crowd of students, coming to a stop next to where his kid is lying on the ground, kneeling down, briefly shaking Peter’s shoulder.

“Pete, can you hear me?” . Nothing. Shit. He touches two fingers against Peter’s neck. “FRIDAY?”

“Elevated heartrate, temperature rising at 103.0 °F. Immediate medical attention required.”

“Call Steve, tell him to get down here now! Tell Cho wherever she is we need her at the tower NOW! Let Bruce know we’re coming. Mr. Zellner?” He briefly turns to find his employee in the crowd. “Get the class out of here.”

“Uh yes, yes of course, Mr. Stark. Uhm, Midtown Tech, everyone follow me please!”

The crowd hesitantly sets in motion. Revealing a frozen Ned, staring unbelieving at his best friend on the floor.

“Ned! Ned!” Tony yells as Ned suddenly snaps out of it. “Has he been sick? Did he get injured? Has he said anything to you?”

“He- uh, he was sick yesterday, didn’t come to school. He said he’d been throwing up all night and wasn’t feeling well the day before. I don’t think he’s really eaten anything since then.”

“Since Tuesday?? Ned, he hasn’t eaten since Tuesday? That’s two whole days! With his- shit” Tony briefly scans the area to make sure the rest of the class is out of earshot “With his metabolism he can’t go that long without food!”

The elevator doors slide open as Steve comes out running towards them.

“Tony, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, he's burning up and suddenly passed out, help me with Peter, we need to get him to Med Bay. Ned, go find your group again, ok? I’ll keep you posted as soon as I can.”

The last thing Ned sees is his best friend in Captain America’s arms, head lolling to the side, a frantic Tony yelling instructions to his AI before the doors to the elevators close.

Chapter Text

“Is he conscious?” Bruce asks as he sees Steve running from the elevator towards Med Bay with a bundle of Peter in his arms.

“He just- he won’t answer me” Tony frantically supplies.

“Put him down here” Bruce points towards a bed in the center of the room.

“Peter? Can you open your eyes for me?” Bruce waits a second to see there is no response. “Can you squeeze my fingers, Pete?”. Again, nothing. He pinches Peter’s fingernail, hard, and gives an almost imperceptible nod as Peter’s hand slightly jerks away.
“Vitals FRI?”

“Heart rate and BP in normal ranges, temperature rising at 103.1 °F. No external injuries detected.”

Bruce’s brows furrow as he clips a pulse ox on Peter’s finger and sticks heart rate monitor patches to his chest. “Tony?”

“His friend says he’s been sick the past two days, has been throwing up, not eating anything”.

“Has Peter said anything to you about what might have started it? Did he get hurt on patrol? Ingest anything?” Bruce asks as he shines a light in Peter’s eyes and mumbles something to himself about his pupils being reactive.

“I- no. Not that I know off, we- shit,” his voice turns small “we… haven’t spoken since the mission.”

“What?!” Bruce and Steve say in unison, staring unbelievingly at Tony. “You haven’t spoken to him since the mission? It’s been what, almost two weeks? Are you serious, Tony? You haven’t apologized for the ass you’ve been to him on the jet?” Steve can hardly believe Tony just said that.

“I was wondering how come I hadn’t seen Peter around” Bruce quietly mumbles before he snaps out of it, focusing on the task at hand. “So I suppose you don’t know whether the laceration on his left arm healed normally?”

“No, I- actually, I didn’t know he’d been hurt.” Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tony sound so defeated and small.

Bruce doesn’t reward this with an answer, motioning a nurse to cut Peter’s sweater off so that he can examine the old wound. But as the shirt comes off he sees nothing. The wound perfectly healed, having not even left a scar behind. This can’t be it then. Damn.

“Bruce, please, what’s going on, what’s wrong with him?” Tony urgently pleads.

“I don’t know Tony, it could be anything at this point. A stomach bug could potentially explain the vomiting and loss of appetite but it’s unlikely that it would hit Peter hard enough to where he’s passing out from it and wouldn’t result in a high fever like this. Anything from poisoning, infection, to internal injuries obtained through blunt trauma could be causing these symptoms. What I can say for sure is he’s severely dehydrated and already showing signs of malnutrition. I’m going to start him on fluids and we’ll examine his abdomen to see if there is any evidence for internal bleeds or other clues as to what caused this.”

Tony thinks his own intestines are starting to form a knot around his stomach as Bruce lists possible explanations of what’s wrong with Peter. Internal bleeds? Trauma, infection, poisoning? He works hard to stifle a sob.

A nurse unwraps a cannula from its packaging, hanging a first unit of fluids on the stand next to the bed. Bruce wipes Peter’s left hand with an alcohol swab before gently inserting the cannula and hooking up the tubes of the IV.

Next is blood. He swipes the crook of Peter’s arm with an alcohol swab after wrapping a tourniquet around his biceps, inserts the needle and draws three vials of blood. He hands them off to the nurse, issuing instructions on the tests he wants done as Peter’s body suddenly jerks.

“He’s going to vomit!” Bruce yells and the two nurses come rushing over and grab Peter’s shoulder and hips “One, two, three – turn!” on Bruce’s command they turn him to his side, Peter’s body convulsing violently as he retches, although he barely has anything to bring up anymore, stomach completely empty so it seems to pass as quickly as it started.

“What have we got, Bruce?” Cho comes rushing in, hair in a fancy up-do, throwing on a white lab coat over a tight-fitting evening gown. The distress call apparently reached her at a less than ideal time. Tony can see relief flicker over Bruce’s face. He knows he’s asking a lot, or more often than not actually asking too much of the scientist by being in charge of all the medical emergencies around here. He knows he’s not that kind of doctor and something like this? Bruce can treat the basics but he’s not trained for something like this.

“He’s GCS 5, unresponsive except for normal flexion in response to lunula pain stimulus. He’s haemodynamically stable, but temperature is way out of range at 103.1°F. Severe dehydration, we’re currently pushing fluids at 2 liters. Apparently he’s been vomiting and not eating for the past two days. I’m still unsure about what caused all this.”

“Mhhm” she hums in a tight-lipped affirmative, as she grabs the stethoscope a nurse is holding out to her and places it on Peter’s chest and back “labored breathing bilaterally” she mutters before she too tries to get Peter to respond. “Peter, can you open your eyes for me, please? Peter?” But there’s only silence and the beeps of the monitors.

“He’s not verbalizing, not obeying command” she concludes “Where’s his O2 saturation?”

“His pulse ox is 95 and has been slowly falling since he has gotten to Med Bay, Dr. Cho.” Friday announces.

“Shit, he’s bordering on becoming hypoxemic. We’re going to have to RSI him.” Quickly understanding, Bruce and a nurse help Cho turn Peter onto his back again.

“Get a mask on him” she instructs one of the nurses “pre-oxygenate at 15 Liters per minute. Bruce, can you push ketamine for his current weight?”

Bruce just nods in response, grabs a syringe from the cart and screws it into Peter’s IV port, slowly pushing the drug in over the course of 60 seconds.

A nurse hands her the laryngoscope as Cho steps behind Peter and gently grabs his jaw, tilting his head back to get better access to his airways to insert the device and the breathing tube. Once she’s in the right position she pulls the bougie back out, inflates the cuff on the tube, safely lodging it in its position in Peter’s airway.

Tony can’t watch. His chest tightens at the sight of an insanely long tube being inserted into his kid’s mouth and he needs to turn away, tears springing to his eyes. What the hell is going on here? Why can’t they find out what’s wrong with him?

“I’m worried about his lack of responsiveness.” Cho says as she connects the tube now lodged in Peter’s throat to the ventilator and uses the stethoscope again to confirm the breathing tube is working correctly. “Has he hit his head?”

“FRI, can you check your footage?” Tony quickly asks, glad he can be of help somehow, if only by asking his AI to provide information.

“Upon passing out Mr. Parker has hit his head at approximately 5,91 meters per second with an energy of about 875,1 joules.”

“Let’s get him into CT then” Cho starts when Bruce interrupts her.

“Helen, wait, his passing out is only a symptom. We need to find out what’s causing the fever. At 875 joules he shouldn’t have more than a minor concussion but in combination with the state of exhaustion his body’s in it was enough to knock him out. Let’s start with whatever’s the root cause.”

“You’re right.” She nods, determination settling in her eyes. “Good. Have you taken any blood samples?”

“I’ve ordered a full blood count. Results should be back any minute. I was going to do an ultrasound of the epigastrium and abdomen.”

A nurse wheels the ultrasound machine over. Cho grabs the wand and squeezes some of the blue gel on it before positioning it so she can methodically search each area of Peter’s abdomen. Everyone goes quiet as she concentrates on finding what’s causing all this.

“Blood count diagnostics have just been completed, Dr. Banner.” Friday finally breaks the silence “Polymorphonuclear leukocytes are at 84%, White blood cell count extremely elevated at 15×10⁹/L, C-reactive protein at 50 mg/dL.”

“Shit” Bruce mutters as Cho frantically moves the wand of the ultrasound down to Peter’s lower right abdomen.

“What? Bruce? What does that mean?” Tony is on the border of turning hysterical. He’s used to being the smartest one in the room, hates how he doesn’t understand what anything means, can’t help, can’t do anything.

“His inflammatory markers are through the roof, Tony, which means he has a serious infection. It’s what’s causing his high fever. In combination with his earlier symptoms, stomach pains, vomiting and loss of appetite it all points to-“

“Appendicitis.” Cho confirms, hitting a button on the keyboard to get a still image of what the ultra sound’s monitor is now clearly showing. “It’s ruptured. He needs emergency surgery right away. I’ll prep a team.” She doesn’t wait to answer any of Tony’s questions before she hurries out the room.

“That’s good, right? Bruce? We know what’s wrong now. Appendicitis? That’s a standard procedure. You can fix this. Right? Bruce!”

Bruce sighs as he starts disconnecting Peter from the machines “Nothing is a standard procedure with Peter, Tony. We’ve never had to put him under, we’ve never had to use antibiotics on him. His appendix has already ruptured, the risk of severe infection and sepsis is much higher. We don’t know how he’ll respond to the antibiotics, don’t know the correct dosage for his metabolism let alone whether his body accepts them at all. A ruptured appendix is a critical situation, we won’t be able to say until we see how the surgery goes and how the antibiotics take. I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony stills and pales at Bruce’s words. I’m sorry, Tony. What’s that supposed to mean? He feels weak, can’t seem to get enough air. His throat feels like it’s tightening as he watches Bruce work and two more nurses in scrubs come in to help Bruce wheel Peter into the OR. Tony wordlessly follows them out, he won’t leave Peter out of his sight. As they push the bed through the sliding doors into the theatre, Bruce stops him.

“Tony. You know you can’t be in there.”

“No, Bruce- I’m not leaving him alone again. No way, I need to be there for him. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Tony, come on, we can’t work if you’re hovering around in there. We need to concentrate. Trust me. We’ll do our best but we can only do that if we don’t have to worry about you in there” he then addresses the AI before turning back to Tony “FRI, can you get Nat or Steve or someone down here?”

“I’m not leaving him alone when he needs me.” Tony’s mouth sets in a grim line.

Bruce sighs “If you’re really sure you want to see this you can watch from the observation room. But Tony, I’m not so sure that’s a good-“

“I’m not letting him out of my sight.”

“Fine, Tony. Whatever you think is best for you. Just please make sure you stay in there and give us the space we need to work ok?”

A few minutes later, Tony is glued to the glass separating the observation room from the OR, his nose almost touching the glass, eyes fixated on Peter’s pale motionless face. He listens to the steady urgent commands Cho issues, the beeping of the monitors, watches as they spread out Peter’s arms, adding countless wires and tubes to his small form, swab the right side of his torso with some orange liquid.
Suddenly the sound is off and he whirls around to find Nat’s finger lingering on the button of the intercom. He turns away, now concentrating even harder on what he sees to make up for the lack of audio.
“Tony.” She gingerly strolls over to his side, places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You don’t want to watch this, Tony.”

“I can’t leave him, Nat. I left him after the mission and look where it’s landed him.” Tony’s eyes are not leaving Peter for a second as he speaks.

“You’re not helping him by standing here and watching this. You know you can be there for him without being there, right?“

“That’s the whole problem Nat! I wasn’t there for him. He’s been sick for two days and I wasn’t there! You should’ve heard him, Nat, he was so angry with me, I’ve never seen him like this, so- so-“ he chokes back a sob. ”He yelled at me, he swore, he hung up on me, he-” Tony sniffles, and Nat can see he’s reached his breaking point.

“Being in pain makes us all do and say things we don’t mean, you know that Tony. His appendix burst, he must have been in excruciating pain, trying to hold it together in front of his entire class, of course he’s frustrated and angry, you were giving him an outlet by addressing this. Well, and of course you didn’t end the last mission on the best of terms but seriously Tony, that kid adores you and no outburst of temper on your part could ever change that.”

Tony just continues to sniffle and turns back to look at Peter.

They stand in silence for a minute as Nat hesitates before she speaks up again “Have you informed May, yet?”

Tony can feel a weight suddenly dropping down to his stomach. May. He turns to face Natasha, the tears he’s been fighting to hold back for so long suddenly springing to his eyes at the thought of having to inform May about Peter being in critical condition.

Chapter Text

Something’s itching his nose. He tries to lift his hand to scratch it, eyebrows furrowing as he notices the amount of effort it takes to move his hand up to his face.

“Pete, don’t touch it.”

A low moan leaves Peter’s mouth as he tries again to scratch whatever’s bothering his nose. He feels a steady hand grab his wrist, gently lowering his hand back to the bed and holding it there.

“It needs to stay in, bud.” Is that Tony’s voice?

“Nnnngh, ouuuut” Peter quietly whines

“I know buddy, I know. You need it to stay in though, ok?” Yeah. Definitely Tony. Probably.

Peter moans and moves his head from side to side, eyes firmly shut, brows furrowed.

“Is he in pain? Bruce?”

“I could up his IV drip a bit” a third voice says as it moves closer, accompanied by the shuffling of feet. “Peter? Can you open your eyes for me?” Whoa, that voice suddenly sounds way too close for comfort. What are they doing right above his head?

Peter just answers with another whispered whine “ouuuuut” he slurs.

“Peter, can you tell me if you’re in any pain?”

Peter realizes someone is talking to him now. Did they ask a question? “Huh?” he finally manages.

“Do you feel any pain, Peter?”

Ah. That. His brows furrow even more, concentrating hard on finding an acceptable answer to the question. Pain, pain, what does pain feel like again? He doesn’t think he’s feeling that or anything at all really. No pain then. “Don’ th’n ssss” he eventually slurs, eyes not willing to comply with the request to open yet.

“Good job, Pete.” Bruce says and gently squeezes his shoulder. “I think it’s just the tube bothering him, Tony, he seems to be fine otherwise. Let him rest some more, he should be more alert the next time he wakes up.”

Peter doesn’t even hear Bruce talking about him, his features already relaxing as he drifts off into unconsciousness again.

“Pete, we’ve been over this before, don’t touch.”

“nnnggh – ony?” Peter squints his eyes. God, why is it so bright in here?

“Yeah bud, it’s me. Don’t touch that.”

“Oh.” Peter’s hand flops back onto the bed.

“Yeah.”

“…”

“-ony?”

“Yeah kid. I’m right here.”

“Mmh, … tha sssnice”

Tony only hums in response, watching as Peter’s eyes slowly close again.

The third time Peter wakes up he immediately knows he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be. He can feel the unfamiliar environment, his spidey-sense telling him this is neither home nor his room in the tower. His eyes snap open, immediately squinting at his nose until he’s completely cross-eyed, trying to identify what the heck is itching so much, hands traveling up there to help find out the cause of this awful awful itch.

“Peeeete” someone chuckles next to him “come on, keep those pretty hands down.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s eyes widen as he looks to see his mentor sitting in a big, comfy-looking armchair next to his bed.

“Oh so now I’ve been downgraded to Mr. Stark again, huh?” Tony’s voice seems light-hearted, relief at seeing Peter awake and actually fully alert ringing with every syllable.

“Huh?” Peter just looks confused at what he heard. Downgraded?

“Oh” Tony smiles “don’t worry about it. FRI, can you tell Bruce that Peter’s awake?”

FRIDAY must have alerted Dr. Banner before Tony even said anything because it’s only a few seconds later that Bruce enters through the door, holding a Stark Pad and a coffee mug in his hands. He sets the coffee down on his way, smiling warmly as he moves over to Peter’s bedside.

“Peter, it’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?”

“Uhm” Peter has to think for a second “Fine, I feel good”

Bruce gives him a stern look but then smiles down at him, “No reason to downplay anything, ok? I need you to be honest with me here, alright? Do you feel any pain?”

Peter blushes a bit. He Hates being the center of attention, especially when he's in a bed in Med Bay, wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital gown. “Yeah. Sorry. Uhm, headache I guess.”

“That would be the concussion. Let’s see where we’re at with that ok?” He asks Peter to follow his fingers with his eyes, which Peter is able to do to Bruce’s satisfaction. He then takes out a small penlight from his coat pocket “I’m going to shine this light in your eyes for a second ok? Let’s have you sit up a bit.”

Tony quickly moves out of the way, pushing his armchair back to give Bruce some space so he can a move the bed in a more upright position.
Peter winces at the harsh light in his eyes.

“Still quite sensitive to light but your pupils are even. I’m going to ask you a few questions Peter, don’t worry if you’re unsure about an answer ok? That’s quite normal after a concussion.” Peter subtly nods.

“Can you tell me your full name?”

“Peter Benjamin Parker”

“Date of Birth?”

“August 10”

“What’s my name?”

“Doctor Bruce Banner. You have seven PhDs.” Bruce lightly chuckles at that.

“Good, good. Everything in order then. Now the next questions might be a bit harder. What is the last thing you remember before waking up?”

“I was, uhm, on a field trip to the tower.”

“That’s right. Do you remember passing out?”

Peter furrows his brows at that. Did he remember passing out? No, no he doesn’t think he does. Shit.

Bruce notices how his expression changes from concentration to one of frustration. “Don’t think anything of it, Peter. That’s perfectly normal. Do you remember the days before your field trip?” Peter slowly nods again.
“Can you tell me when you started feeling sick?”

“Tuesday”

“Ok and since Tuesday, what have you had to eat and drink?”

Peter frowns. “I… had breakfast and lunch on Tuesday. Wednesday morning I had a banana but it came right back up. I, uh, tried to drink water here and there.” he looks down to his hands where he’s fiddling with one of the cables that seems to be coming from below his hospital gown.

Bruce scribbles some things down on the Stark Pad and tone turns more serious. “Do you understand why you passed out on your field trip, Peter?”

Peter’s eyes quickly dart to Tony and then to Bruce before landing back in his lap. He thinks he knows the answer to that but gives his head a barely perceptible shake anyway.

“With your metabolism, going a period of two days without sufficient food or water intake is equivalent to a normal person going for a week without either. Any normal human wouldn’t just pass out, they would die from dehydration and starvation.”

Peter's eyes widen, scared the doctor is insinuating something there “I- I didn’t mean to Dr. Banner, I wasn’t trying to starve myself or anything, I swear!” 

“I know Peter, you were feeling sick and it’s normal to lose your appetite but you need to understand that for you it’s incredibly dangerous not to eat. Your body needs nutrients and liquids at a much faster rate than ours. Whenever you get sick or vomit, lose your appetite or really anything happens preventing you from taking anything in for more than a few hours, I want you to tell someone, ok? May, Tony or myself. Can you do that?”

Peter nods hesitantly.

“Good." Bruce smiles encouragingly. Damn he's good at the whole bedside manner thing. "Now, your loss of appetite, vomiting, high fever and ultimately the passing out were immediate consequences of an infection of your appendix. The infection had progressed to a critical state where it caused your appendix to rupture so Dr. Cho had to remove it in surgery, which went better than we could’ve hoped for, and thankfully you are responding well to the antibiotics. Which Dr. Cho was especially glad for by the way, since that allowed her to get back in time to receive her research award” Bruce chuckles at the memory of Cho’s slight annoyance earlier by Peter’s generally great timing falling ill. "Unfortunately you also hit your head when you blacked out, resulting in the mild concussion, but as we've already established you're well on the way to getting better there, too."

“Now this thing” he points to the tube lodged in Peter’s nose that Peter had forgotten everything about until this very second, too distracted by first Tony and then Bruce to notice the offending object anymore “is a nasogastric tube. It reaches all the way down to your stomach and allows us to provide you with the needed nutrients.”

“Can we take it out now?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid, Peter.” Bruce looks him in the eyes apologetically “I know it’s uncomfortable but due to the state of malnutrition you are in after two days of no intake, we need a way to provide a large amount of calories and nutrients. As soon as you feel up to eating the required amount yourself we can take it out.”

“What is the required amount?”

“Well, with your enhanced metabolism you know your usual daily caloric intake should lie no lower than 5000. With the added calories to make up for what your body’s lost in the last two days probably closer to 7000.”

Peter’s eyes widen at the prospect of having to eat so much food. He swallows hard, and winces, suddenly more aware of how uncomfortable it feels to swallow with the tube in.

“It is quite normal for patients to be without appetite for a few days after an appendectomy, which is why we decided on the tube for you, Peter. With your level of malnutrition we can’t afford another period of time without sufficient intake. But if you’re feeling hungry we can get you started on some light soup in a few hours? No solids for the next few days I’m afraid.”

Peter gulps and shakes his head. No. The idea of food makes his stomach churn again. Bruce notices and smiles knowingly.
“Don’t worry, we will take it slow.”

“How long will I, uhm” Peter nervously glances over to where Tony is standing “How long do I have to stay- here, uh, the tower, I mean?”

Bruce eyes flicker over to Tony, who suddenly looks like he was hit in the stomach, before resting on Peter’s again. Damn. Apparently the kid hadn’t miraculously forgotten everything that had transpired before his field trip to SI.

“We’ll have to keep you in Med Bay as long as the ng-tube is necessary. It depends on your progress really, so whenever you manage to keep enough food down. I am expecting it to be around 3 days, maybe 4. The feed is administered via the tube every few hours and we’ll need to continue to administer the antibiotics intravenously for the next two days, so I’m afraid we can’t move you to your room quite yet. Also, during this time, no screens. Your brain can’t use any more overstimulation until your concussion clears. After you’re released from Med Bay, Tony and your aunt will probably figure out a way to organize your care. You can’t strain yourself and need a lot of rest, Peter, please don’t underestimate this. I know you’re thinking you’ll be able to get through everything much faster because of your healing factor but without proper nutrition your body was working hard to just keep itself upright, your healing factor has been slowed down substantially to where it’s barely detectable. The infection put your body in critical condition, you need time to heal.”

After that there is silence. Bruce can tell there are too many things left unspoken between Peter and Tony to just pick up where they left off before the disastrous mission and now that Peter’s medical care questions are out of the way, tension is building up in the room.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. If you have no further questions, Peter, I’ll leave you two to it?”

“No. Thank you, Dr. Banner” Peter can barely look up now, his voice a mere whisper, nervousness radiating off of him.

“You are very welcome, Peter. I’ll be back in about an hour with the next round of your feed.” As Bruce turns he sends Tony a look that says “You better not do anything to fuck this up, Tony” before closing the door after himself and leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m so sorry to be a bother Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be out of your hair as fast as-” Peter blurts out immediately before Tony moves back towards to his bed, pain and remorse in his eyes.

“Whoa, whoa slow down buddy. Please.”

Peter can’t even look him in the eyes. His heart rate is through the roof, he’s glad they turned off the beeping audio feedback and silently begs Mr. Stark doesn’t notice the blinking red lights on the heart rate monitors.

“Is it ok if I sit again?” He points to the armchair next to Peter’s bed and Peter nods a barely imperceptible nod.

“Can you look at me please, Pete? I’d like to say a few things.”

Slowly, nervousness coursing through every fiber of his body, tears swelling in his eyes, Peter forces his eyes to move from their save haven in his lap. This is it, he thinks. This is him telling me he can’t deal with me on the team, that he only allows me in Med Bay because I can’t go to a hospital if I want to keep my identity hidden. He’ll tell me he wants me out as soon as Bruce gives his ok. He squeezes his eyes shut and as he opens them again, hot tears are streaming down his cheeks before his eyes even meet Tony’s.

“I’m an asshole.”

What?

Peter eyes finally shoot up to meet Tony’s.

“I’m the biggest asshole on this entire planet, possibly this galaxy but I don’t have enough data to accurately validate that. Pete, I am so so sorry. I don’t even know how to phrase it to make clear to you how humiliated I am just thinking about my behavior on the quinjet. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that, you didn’t deserve to become the target of my anger and frustration. And then I couldn’t even bring myself to overcome my stupid pride and just call you up and apologize. I had hoped you’d just show up on Friday after school and I’d get the chance to do that without making the first move but you were absolutely right in not giving me such an easy out. I should’ve known better. I should’ve been better.
There’s nothing I can say to take back what I said, to make this ok, I know, but I just hope you’ll find it in you to see that that is not who I am, not who I want to be.”

Peter just stares, sounds stuck in his throat. Tears glistening on his cheeks.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever told you what you mean to me Peter. I wish I had earlier because then we might have never ended up in this mess. I love you, Peter. You’re the closest thing I could ever imagine to having a son and I love every minute and moment I spend with you. To see you so ill, it- I just can’t imagine losing you, it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking back to seeing you on the floor this morning. I love you, Peter and I hope you can forgive me for being such an ass.”

Peter blinks. It takes a few beats for Tony’s words to sink in but the second they do he lunges forward, reaching his arms out, tackling Mr. Stark in the tightest hug he can manage. Moments later Bruce comes crashing through the door, having received a silent alarm as the monitors lost connection to the patches on Peter’s chest when he ripped them out from the rapid movement.
When he sees Peter silently sobbing in Tony’s arms and Tony soothingly running his fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings, silent tears running down his own cheeks, Bruce knows everything is going to be ok.

Chapter Text

“Please Dr. Banner, please, please, please” Peter pleads.

“Seriously Underoos, we’re not going to let Bruce perform an unnecessary medical procedure just because you want to impress your girlfriend.”

“But Mr. Stark, she can’t see me like that, it’s embarrassing. I look like I’m about die with this stupid tube shoved up my nose. I look ridiculous.” Peter whines in response.  “And MJ’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well you were about to die Underoos, make no mistake about that! And we’re trying to make sure there’s no repeat of that so it’s a no, kid.”

“Peter, I’m sorry but I can’t just remove and reinsert your feeding tube for a short visit.” Bruce gave him a genuinely apologetic look as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm. “You know you need a steady supply to get your healing factor back up. But if you’d be more comfortable we can push your scheduled feed for a few hours until your friend has left.”

Peter groans and lets himself flop back into the pillows “fiiiine” he grunts out between his hands covering his face as Bruce gently grabs his arm when the blood pressure cuff starts to inflate. “Keep your arm straight for me, please?”

Bruce nods approvingly at the blood pressure reading. “Your overall lab results and vitals look really good, Peter. We’re ready to switch you over from intravenous antibiotics to pills if you’d prefer. It’ll be much easier to move around without the additional tubes. How’s your appetite today?”

“Fine” Peter is obviously annoyed and defeated. Gosh MJ would see him with a fucking tube in his face and know he’d been fed like an idiot for the past days.

“Can you be a bit more specific, please?” Bruce chuckles “I need to calculate your remaining caloric intake.”

“I had a bowl of cereal and a PB and J sandwich” Tony clears his throat and is raising an eyebrow at him to which Peter responds with a roll of his eyes “Fiiine, half a bowl of cereal and a few bites of the sandwich.”

Bruce takes a moment to apparently calculate the calories in his head before drawing the correct amount of the feed and slowly pushing it into the tube while addressing Peter again “I’m a little concerned about your appetite, Peter. On day three we’d usually see a higher independent intake.”

At that Tony gives Bruce a worried look. “So what does that mean? How much longer will he have to keep the tube?”

“At this rate it’d be another 2-3 days I’m afraid.” A drawn out groan can be heard coming from the bed at Bruce’s words “I know, I would have liked to see you come off the tube tomorrow but your intake is too low, Peter. You’re barely eating enough to cover what a normal person your age and size would need let alone what your enhanced metabolism requires.”

Peter turns his head away from the two men at this. The two men by his bedside can barely hear the mumbled “I hate this”.

“I know kiddo, I know it sucks. We’ll keep trying to get some more food down ok? Don’t worry. You’ll get rid of that thing in no time.” Now looking at Bruce Tony puts on his biggest puppy eyes “Is there any way we can move him upstairs to his bedroom, Brucie? You said yourself his vitals and results look good and no more IV meds means only the nose- tube-thingy to worry about, right? We can set up all the medical shenanigans you want up there as well. And I’ll have FRI report any changes to you immediately, if the kid even so much as sneezes you’ll hear about it right away.”

Bruce considers Tony’s ask for a moment and looks at Peter who’s in turn looking at him with the cutest, most hopeful doe eyes he’s ever seen, he thinks. Gosh, no wonder Tony melts into a dad-shaped puddle every time he talks about the kid.

“I guess that can be arranged.” He finally says with a sigh-smile-in-between-thing.

“Now, how much would you like me if I told you we could make the move happen before your friend comes over, Peter?”

“Really?!! Ahh you’re the best Dr. Banner!” Peter can’t contain his excitement anymore. Out of Med Bay, out of this stupid, lame room with nothing to do.

“Aaaand”, Bruce now gives Peter a telling smirk “I’m lifting the no-screens-ban. Your concussion has fully cleared.”

“God Brucie, now you’re just showing off.” Tony is giving him his pretend hurt face and voice “I might have to ban you from bearing any more good news, otherwise you’re going to outrank me as the kid’s favorite avenger before I can say “Shawarma”.

“He could never Mr. Stark. You’ll always be my favorite” Peter quips.

“And you mine Underoos, and you mine.”