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Peter loves his best friend, honest he does.
But right this minute, all he wants to do is strangle him.
Since spring has sprung, everything in nature is slowly coming back to life: birds chirping, flowers blooming, grass becoming green again.
However, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. This change in weather also means pollen is in the air. The yellow that’s stained on roads, cars, and patio furniture are claiming victims of all ages, Ned included.
Much to the other teen’s annoyance.
All morning, Ned hasn’t stopped complaining about his occasional sniffling. Sure, he sneezes more than usual but considering he took an allergy pill before school, it could be worse.
It’s not that Peter has no soul. He does feel bad for his friend’s constant struggle this time of year but all the same, this endless stream of whines can wear on anyone, including the spiderling walking next to him.
“You got any extra tissues?” Ned asks while they’re walking to biology class, putting his used one in his jeans pocket, “I used up all of mine from that to-go pack Mom gave me.”
“Dude, it’s ten AM.” Peter gives him an incredulous look. “How have you used them all in barely two hours?”
“When your nose is the equivalent of a fucking fountain, that’s how.” Ned sniffles once again, using the collar of his red shirt as a makeshift tissue. “How come you don’t have to deal with this?”
Peter rolls his eyes. “‘Cuz I gotta deal with everything else,” he quips.
You do remember the MS thing I got, right?
Or was that dizzy spell just a fluke to you?
The other teen grunts in response. “Shit, with everything you got, you might as well have gotten this too.”
That makes Peter pause.
His throat runs dry as he sees his best friend start laughing, sniffling once again since a snort caused all the snot to fall out of his nose at once.
Why was that funny?
Tell me, I genuinely want to know.
The hero stays silent as they walk into the science lab, deep in thought when they settle at their respective bar stools.
He doesn’t pay the least bit of attention to the class.
Other than his friend’s sniffling and the occasional sneeze, the next hour is a bit of a blur, the spider-boy’s brain slowly registering the comment that was made.
What did he mean by that?
That because I got this MS shit that dealing with something else wouldn’t be a big deal?
Because the MS shit is nothing more than taking a shot three times a week, right? Nothing will be wrong with me as long as I take those damn shots.
As if his illness could sense it, Peter starts mindlessly scratching the itch on his left thigh, right over where he took his shot just two days before, on Wednesday. When he realizes what he’s doing, it takes too much effort to stop.
He then hears Ned sniffle from beside him, seeing him take out his previously used tissue from his pocket and blow into it like he’s done all morning.
A strike of rage then filters through the intern.
So what if he has to blow his nose every once in a while? So what if he has to fucking sneeze?
He’s always been able to get out of bed.
Peter doesn’t say much for the rest of the school day. Sure, he laughs at the times he’s supposed to, says whatever to agree with his friends so he can talk for as little as possible.
And try as he might, he can’t let go of what his friend said, not even when the bell rings for the last time that day, signaling the freedom that another school day has been spent and the weekend is finally here.
On his way home, Peter starts thinking out loud.
“Was Ned wishing I also had allergies?” he mumbles, “On top of what I already have to deal with?”
I don’t have to deal with allergies, so what?
Let me have this one reprieve, for fuck’s sake.
He sighs frustratingly when he sees his train arrive, grabbing onto the nearest pole once he’s inside. The boy is still consumed by his thoughts when he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans pocket with a text message.
The hero pulls out the device, almost clinging onto the pole to get out of the way of other passengers as he opens the text from his father figure.
Didya get lost or something?
“What?” Peter mutters at his phone, wrapping his arms around the pole before sending him his reply.
What dya mean
Tony responds in seconds.
Don’t make me walk in that school and drag ur ass out here, where are you??
“Shit!” The spiderling quickly darts out of the subway, just in time before the doors close.
How out of it was he that he completely forgot about his mentor picking him up from school today?
Peter quickly types up his response as he exits the station, bumping into too many people due to the focus on his phone.
Omg I forgot
I’m so sorry
Can u pick me up at the subway station its the one closest to school
Sorry!!!!!!
It takes a minute but Tony soon sends his answer.
How dare you forget about me 😉 omw
Peter leans against the railing next to the stairway to the station, gradually getting his breath while he waits on his mentor. His brain wastes no time to get right back to the thing that’s been on his mind since ten o'clock this morning.
Why does he want me to have both allergies and MS?
Because I’m already sick so I might as well be sicker? Just to take the one thing he’s gotta deal with off his plate?
Oh, shit.
He degraded my illness in one fucking sentence.
A car horn then snaps him out of his stupor, flinching as he turns to see his father figure pull over next to the curb so he can get in.
“You’re far too young to start forgetting things,” Tony says jokingly, pulling into traffic when his kid closes the passenger door.
The spiderling grunts in response. “My brain has too much stuff in it already, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Fair enough,” his mentor says with a snort, nudging the tyke’s upper arm, “So, how was your day?”
And that’s how the first half of the ride home goes. The father-son duo makes typical small talk, with Peter saying as little as possible so he doesn’t give away how he’s feeling. If he talks just enough to carry on a conversation, then he’ll move past that stupid comment and think about something that’s more important.
“Is it an ace thing?” Tony then asks.
“Huh?” Peter turns to his hero in confusion. “What’s an ace thing?”
“You haven’t talked for about a solid five minutes and I’m trying to figure out why.”
Oh.
How did I not know I wasn’t talking?
“So,” the older man continues, “Is it an ace thing?”
“No,” Peter drawls.
“Ha,” Tony says with a smirk.
“What?”
“I knew something’s wrong.”
“And you’re happy about it?”
“Well, I’m happy that you wanna tell me.”
“What makes you think I wanna tell you?”
“I don’t know,” Tony says with a shrug, giving the tyke another nudge. “I can just tell. Whatever it is, you’re thinking hard about it.”
Deep down, Peter knows he’s right but it’s not like his friend actually hurt him. It was one stupid, insignificant comment that Ned has probably forgotten already, it’s not worth bringing another person into the mix.
“Aro thing?” Tony asks, continuing this “game” of trying to figure out what’s wrong with his kid.
“You know what that is?”
“Duh, why else would you wanna add green to your already very ace spidey suit?”
The boy’s eyes widen, propping his elbows onto the armrest and resting his chin on his fists. “Wait, you looked it up?” he says.
“‘Course I did.” Tony gives him a smile, ruffling the other’s hair as he approaches a stoplight. “When I googled ‘green pride flags’, aromantic was the first one to pop up and I just knew. And the other colors are the same as the ace flag so it’d fit your suit like a glove. Do you wanna work on that today?”
“No. I still haven’t decided on that, to be honest.”
“You got all the time in the world, bud. So, is it an aro thing?”
“No.” The sixteen-year-old shakes his head. “Identity-wise, everything’s been fine.”
“MS thing?”
Peter looks down at that, trying to force down the shame that’s washing through him.
Maybe if I don’t say anything, he’ll finally let it go.
At hearing no response, Tony unexpectedly smiles with victory. “Ah, third time’s the charm, it’s an MS thing.” His face immediately falls, fear taking its place as his head snaps to the other genius. “Wait, are you okay—”
“I’m fine.” The spider-boy can’t help but smile at the affection, lightly patting the elder’s shoulder in reassurance. “I’m fine, I promise. Everything’s been, um, everything’s been good there.”
“Good, good,” the mechanic says with a relieved sigh, “So what’s up?”
“Nothing, it’s not even a big deal.”
“Since you’re still thinking about it, I beg to differ. Are you getting your shots like you should, you’re not running out, are you?”
“No, I—everything’s been fine since you started getting them for me.” Peter feels his cheeks heat up in both light embarrassment and how much his father figure simply cares. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Don’t thank me for doing my job.” Again, Tony ruffles his hair, a soft smile of his own slowly etching on his face. “So, what’s up?” he repeats.
Peter groans, facing the windshield and curling his knees to his chest. “I know Ned didn’t mean it.”
“Didn’t mean what, what did he do?”
The spider-kid grunts in response, resting his cheek on his knees with his gaze on his father figure. “He’s probably forgotten about it by now.”
Tony shoots him a confused look before he puts his focus back on the road. “What kinda milkshake you want?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“You look like you need a milkshake, and I’m not ready to go home yet.” The billionaire takes another glance at his kid, this time sporting a sympathetic smile. “So, what kinda milkshake you want?”
“Strawberry,” Peter says with a slight chuckle, “If only everything was solved with milkshakes.”
“I hear that.” The older hero puts on his signal and takes a left turn at the next intersection, soon settling behind a line of cars in the nearest McDonald’s drive-thru. “Whatever Ned said,” he starts, “He probably doesn’t even realize what he did.”
“What exactly did he do?”
“He hurt you.” Tony gives his kid a light pat on the back, ruffling his hair at the nape of his neck. “He hurt you enough that you can’t stop thinking about what he said.”
The mechanic doesn’t press. In fact, the two of them don’t say anything as they inch their way through the drive-thru, or even when they dig into their large strawberry milkshakes.
But Peter can’t find himself to actually enjoy the delicious treat.
“So, Ned has allergies,” he says, no longer able to keep this to himself. No matter how stupid he sounds for still thinking about this, he has to tell someone or he’s going to explode.
“Uh-huh,” Tony replies between sips of his own milkshake, “As do a lot of people this time of year.”
“Yeah.” The teenager is staring at his light pink clear cup while he continues, “And I don’t deal with allergies much, pollen doesn’t bother me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So Ned’s, uh, kinda annoyed at that.”
“Is he jealous of you for not having allergies?” Tony gives the other a confused look before he merges back on the highway.
“Yeah, I think so? Anyway, uh, Ned asked me why I don’t have to deal with it.”
“Some people deal with it, some people don’t.”
“Uh-huh. So, um, I kinda joked saying that I gotta deal with everything else, which isn’t exactly a lie.”
“Not by any stretch.”
“So then Ned said that with everything I gotta deal with, I might as well have gotten allergies too.”
The atmosphere in the car goes deathly silent, the tenseness making Peter’s skin prickle with goosebumps. So much embarrassment floods over him that he quickly tries to cover his tracks. “Sorry, I knew it was stupid—”
“What a privileged idiot.”
The tyke’s head snaps to his father figure’s, his eyes widening at how offended the older man looks even though his gaze is still on the road. “What—?” he starts but the other hero cuts him off.
“‘Cuz allergies are so much worse than what you have to deal with, un-fucking-believable.” Tony takes a glance at his kid, his facial expression softening to sympathy instead of anger. “I’m sorry he said that,” he says lowly.
“So I’m not overreacting?”
“Absolutely not, not by a long shot.”
“Good.” With a relieved sigh, Peter rests his head against the headrest of his seat. “‘Cuz all day, I felt like I was making a big deal over nothing.”
“Oh, that wasn’t nothing. What he said was rude and inconsiderate, you have every right to be upset.” Tony takes another glimpse at his mentee. “What did you say back?”
“Nothing,” said kid mumbles, putting his half-full milkshake in the drink holder on the center console, “I didn’t know what to say so I just didn’t say anything. All he did was laugh like he made the best joke ever.”
He sees his hero tighten his grip on the steering wheel, a grimace etched on the man’s face as if he wants to say something but he’s refraining.
“I want to say something to him,” Peter continues, “But I don’t know what. He’s probably forgotten by now, there’s no point.”
“But will you feel better if you say something?”
“Huh?” The teenager looks up at the older male in confusion.
“You might be right.” Tony looks back at his kid, giving him a light rub of his shoulder. “Ned might not remember, he might not even care, but if this is eating you up like it looks like it is then you should definitely say something. Sometimes, saying something is more for you than the other person, so don’t focus so much on Ned’s reaction and more so on how you will be feeling. Do you think you’ll feel better if you say something?”
Peter nods his head. “I just wanna get it off my chest more than anything, and I want to actually enjoy my milkshake but my stomach kinda hurts.”
“I’m sorry, bud. Maybe a milkshake isn’t the right way to go about this, huh?”
“No, it was nice, I just hate that Ned’s not making me enjoy it. What do I even say to him?”
“What you’re feeling right now, that’s what you tell him. Even if nothing comes of it, you will feel better.” Tony ruffles his kid’s hair once again. “And that’s what matters.”
“It’s just,” Peter starts with a sigh, leaning into the affection, “I can’t believe he said that.”
“Me either. Most likely, he doesn’t know what he said.”
“But you’d think he’d think about that shit, y’know? He was there when I had that dizzy spell, how can he think fucking allergies are worse than that?”
“Like I said: privileged idiot. But that means he probably needs someone to talk some sense into him.” The billionaire gives his kid a smile. “Don’t lose hope yet, bud, you don’t know how he’s gonna react. Don’t let him ruin your milkshake experience.”
“Yeah, good point.” The teenager grabs his cup and continues slurping on his shake, going at a faster pace since it’s had some time to melt. “And it’s not like I want Ned to never complain about allergies, it’s just—”
“You want him to at least be considerate about what he’s saying.”
“Exactly.” Peter turns to face his father figure, curling his knees up onto his seat while he continues drinking his strawberry-flavored treat. “Sorry I’m complaining so much—”
“Pete,” Tony says with a scoff, sighing as he puts down his own cup that is now void of milkshake, “Do you wanna know how often I think about that fatigue episode you had?”
Said kid looks up at the older man, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You think about it a lot?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” the other genius says, his voice copying the tone, “Almost every day.”
An unexplainable amount of warmth filters through the boy, feeling both grateful and saddened at the sentiment. Peter puts down his own empty cup and again props his elbows onto the armrest but this time, he grabs Tony’s right hand that’s not currently occupying the steering wheel. “You made it better,” he says, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I was alone.”
Fuzziness takes over at feeling his mentor’s hand give his a heartfelt squeeze. “I’m glad I was good for something,” Tony says, “But I hated seeing you like that, I hated not knowing what to do.” He tightens his grip on his kid’s hand. “I truly can’t imagine going through all of that.”
“Mr. Stark—”
“So if that comment that punk-ass kid made is offensive to me,” the mechanic takes a glance at the tyke, “Then you have every right to complain about this for as long as you want.”
Peter can’t help but smile at that, not knowing what to say except a simple but grateful “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. So,” Tony leans back in his seat, not letting go of his intern’s hand as he stops at another intersection, “How’re you feeling, ready to head home?”
“Actually, can you keep driving? Unless you’re like running out of gas or something.”
“Kiddo, you’re in luck. I just so happened to have just filled up.”
-
Peter can feel his fingers trembling the following Monday before school and no, it’s not due to the MS.
He’s walking up the stairs and through the double doors of Midtown Tech, almost instantly spotting Ned at his locker who’s already blowing his nose into a tissue.
The hero approaches his own locker that’s next to him, distracting his shaking hands by getting his textbook for his first class. “Hey,” he says, attempting to sound casual.
All he gets in return is his friend’s nose blowing once again into the tissue. “I think my nose is gonna fall off my face,” Ned says.
Low-key wish it would so you’d stop complaining about it.
It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes. “Has it gotten any better?”
“Nope,” Ned says with a sigh, “I think I’m gonna have to deal with this shit forever.”
I relate.
The other boy chooses not to comment. What he wants to say is on the tip of his tongue; what he’s spent all weekend practicing is right there but his mouth isn’t working to form words.
“Hey, Ned—”
But the first bell rings instead.
“Yeah?” Ned replies, his voice understandably congested.
“Um,” Peter scratches the back of his neck as the two of them walk to the English classroom. “Ready for that math test today?”
He’s mentally kicking himself, not bothering to pay attention to his best friend’s answer when they settle into their desks.
And the hero hates to admit it, but he’s like this the entire school day.
At every opportunity, his anxiety keeps him silent: walking to classes, during lunch, P.E., the genius bites his tongue, choosing to take the easy route of avoiding confrontation by not saying anything at all.
Maybe saying something isn’t necessary.
After all, Ned has probably forgotten about it.
So what's the point in bringing it up if it’s going to have possibly disastrous consequences?
Peter sighs in relief when the last bell rings. All the pent-up anxiety has caused his body to waver on exhaustion so the thought of plopping on his bed at Iron Man’s lake house is better than any meal or patrol right now.
Both teens are walking down the hallway, with Peter cringing at his friend blowing his nose once again. “I hate this,” Ned says.
“But hey, allergy season doesn’t last that long,” the other boy says with a shrug.
“Easy for you to say, ‘Mr. Privilege.’”
A bout of anger filters through the intern, similar to the one on Friday thus causing him to stop them both in their tracks. “What’d you just say?” he asks, his tone just above a whisper.
“What—?”
Peter doesn’t let his friend repeat himself and instead lightly pushes him into the boys’ bathroom behind him, using his super-hearing to make sure no one else is present before he says, “You’re really calling me ‘Mr. Privilege’?”
“Peter, what the fuck—”
“Do you even realize what you’re saying?”
“Dude, it was just a joke—”
“I’m not laughing.” With a deep breath, the hero then says, “I also didn’t laugh at what you said on Friday.”
“Peter, none of this is making any sense. What the fuck did I say?”
I knew he’d forget.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it and he fucking forgot.
Now who’s “Mr. Privilege”?
Peter keeps his hands at his sides, curling them into fists to keep his anger in check. “Remember what you said? About how I should’ve gotten allergies too, since I gotta deal with other shit?”
“Yeah?” Ned says with a shrug.
He literally doesn’t realize what he said.
“Ned.” The genius gives him a disbelieving look. “It was so offensive, beyond offensive. You pretty much said you wished I could be sicker than I already am; all so that you won’t have to blow your nose as much.”
Said boy’s eyebrows rise in surprise, his eyes widening exponentially. “Oh.”
"Yeah…yeah." Peter slumps his shoulders, his body reeling from both fatigue and the astounding relief of finally getting his words out there. “Y’know if I could, I’d pick allergies over MS any day ending in ‘y.’”
“Yeah,” Ned says, his eyes flickering side to side while a slight redness forms in his cheeks, “I know.”
Then why did you fucking say it?
“So yeah.” Not knowing what else to do, the other teen puts his hands in his pockets, his gaze on the tile floor beneath his feet. “I’m already sick, and-and my sickness isn’t going to go away like your allergies will.”
“I know—”
“You don’t have to deal with the shots or the dizziness or MRIs. I’m missing out on a normal life that you still get to have.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Peter sees embarrassment on the other’s face and he can’t help but feel awkward at being the cause of it. However, there is a small part of him that’s almost happy that his friend is upset; Ned deserves to know how messed up that comment was.
All the same, the intern feels a hint of annoyance.
Because Ned didn’t sound genuine.
Sure, it sounds like he regrets it but instead of the apology reflecting as such, the sidekick sounded rushed, flustered, as if he only said it to get out of this conversation.
So, with a hopeless sigh, Peter crosses his arms in front of him. “So just let me have this one thing of not having to deal with allergies much.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ned then takes out his phone, his eyes skimming at whatever is on the screen before him. “Hey, my mom’s looking for me, I gotta go.”
You weren’t reading a text.
Before Peter can question, his best friend races past him and out of the bathroom, leaving the hero at a loss for words.
I made it worse.
The boy then follows suit, trudging down the stairs of the school and damn near collapsing into the passenger seat of Tony’s car.
“Rough day?” the older man says while exiting the school’s parking lot, “How’d it go?”
“It went.” Peter leans his head against the seat, his eyes drooping with his last bit of energy clinging on for dear life. “He apologized but it didn’t sound like he meant it,” he says, slurring over his words.
The billionaire gives his kid a soft pat on the arm that’s resting on the center console. “I’m sorry to hear that, bud. That’s surprising, I thought he’s a better guy than that.”
“He is, that’s why this feels so weird. Like, you could tell he only apologized just to get out of the conversation; he even lied about his mom texting him.”
“That’s weird coming from him. Maybe he was just embarrassed? He might need some time to cool off before he comes around, don’t lose hope.”
“Hopefully it’s that.”
“How do you feel?” Tony gives him a smile, grabbing onto his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Do you regret confronting him?”
Peter doesn’t need to think twice about his answer, tightening their grip in return. “No, it felt good to tell him. Is it bad that it also felt good to see him feel bad?”
“Nope, least not in my book. He screwed up, you called him out on it, and now he’s gotta deal with the consequences.”
“But I don’t wanna lose him, though, he’s still my best friend—”
“And tough love hurts. Now it’s his turn: is he going to be the actual best friend he needs to be or will his pride get the best of him?”
The teenager groans as he slumps more into his seat, a yawn escaping him when he closes his eyes. “I just can’t think about that right now.”
“Well yeah, ‘cuz you’re about to pass out,” Tony says with a chuckle, “Did you sleep last night—”
“Anxiety’s a bitch.”
“Ah, I get it. You can sleep it off when we get home.”
“Can’t wait—” Peter is cut off with his phone vibrating in his jeans pocket, moaning in frustration at not being able to sleep.
His eyes then light up at what he sees on his screen, adrenaline momentarily pumping back into his body as these texts from Ned almost awaken him fully.
Look I know I fucked up
And Im really sorry I promise I didn’t mean it like that, I wasnt trying to make you feel bad I was just really annoyed and I wasnt thinking about anything else
Youre not still mad at me right
I dont want this to like change us yknow?? I don’t wanna end up us not talking or anything and i DEIFNITELY don’t wanna end up not being friends anymore
I swear i wont say anything like taht just please don’t be mad a me
A heartfelt smile breaks out across the young genius’s face, a satisfying blanket of warmth wafting over him.
His biggest fear isn’t going to come true.
He’s not going to lose Ned over this.
“It’s Ned,” he says, tightening his grip on the older hero’s hand.
“Oh yeah?” Tony gives him a side glance before putting his focus back on the road. “You guys okay?”
The kid is still staring at those text messages, a part of him wishing that Ned said this in person but like his mentor said, he more than likely needed to process what happened before coming through with a genuine apology.
And for this to last through five separate text messages, this is about the most genuine it's going to get.
“We’re good,” Peter whispers, his body finally relaxing fully, “It’s all good.”