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Once, he saw something like it in a TV show. Eventually they bring it up in health classes at school. But none of it seems quite right to Peter. Not quite what happens to him, what goes through his head when he…stops. When he ignores the rumbling in his stomach and makes excuses to May and can’t resist scarfing down two whole candy bars at Ned’s late at night.
It’s so ingrained, such a part of him by the time he gets Karen that he doesn’t think about her, doesn’t bank on her recordings of his vitals and her direct line to Mr. Stark and her ability to override his protests as his vision goes white around the edges.
He comes to on a roof. Mr. Stark’s there, mask peeling back from his face as he lands. Peter scrambles back without exactly knowing why, but Mr. Stark falls to his side anyway, armored knees clunking on the concrete.
Karen rattles off numbers and reports on his body and Peter’s mortified, but Tony’s face just looks set in a soft sort of way.
“Peter. What did you eat today?”
For once there is no lie that comes to save him.