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Patrol was going well enough until a poison grenade is thrown at Peter and he doesn't react fast enough before a thick cloud was consuming him, working its way into his lungs with his breath he breathed.
It was quick acting. Between one moment and the next, Peter had dropped to his knees with his hands — pebbles digging into his hands from the rough cement rooftop he was on — clawing at his chest as if it would relieve the pressure that it had taken on.
“Spidey? You alright?” Cap’s voice asked, sounding slightly concerned. He could hear other panicked voices sounding through his comms, Tony's voice being the loudest.
Peter couldn’t do more than wheeze in response, failing to take large enough breaths; black spots filling his vision. He could hear his heartbeat racing in his ears from his panic as he desperately tried to keep himself conscious, despite the pain in his chest slowly getting worse.
“Shoot. Spider-mans been compromised. I’m taking him back to the tower.” Peter’s vision blacked out as strong arms wrapped underneath his arms and lifted him off the ground.
—-
“Peter? You with me?” A familiar voice asked as Peter slowly floated back to consciousness.
He groaned and opened his eyes, squinting at the headache that greeted him. Tony was staring at him with a face full of concern that relieved when he made eye contact.
“Mr. Stark?”
“How are you feeling? You were hit with a gas poison. We were able to develop an antidote but there might be some side affects.”
“Just a raging headache,” Peter admitted, rubbing at his temples as he closed his eyes again. Tony threaded a hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp in the way he knew Peter likes. Peter let out a thankful hum, leaning into the touch.
He could hear Tony make a noise of recognition. “I can get you some intense pain meds. That poison might have killed someone with a lower metabolism rate.” He said it like a joke, but he could hear the underlying panic in his voice. The what if practically ringing in the air.
That reminded him. “How did the rest of the patrol go? Was the villain stopped?”
He opened his eyes again to see Mr. Stark’s reaction, only he suddenly wished he didn’t because his mentor’s face scrunched up in a way that had Peter already knowing the answer.
“Oh,” he said, not needing to be told. His head flopped back onto the pillow, and he shut his eyes again so that Tony wouldn't be able to see the hurt look in his eyes.
“The most important thing is that you’re okay, though. You only need to rest up a little bit more and let Bruce listen to your lungs before you should be good to go.” The two of them dived into comfortable silence, Tony's hand still working its way through Peter's hair. While the silence took over, Peter's mind ran wild, wondering what would happen if he wasn't compromised, thinking of all the people he likely put in danger.
If he had reacted faster, if he was good enough, they wouldn’t have had to abandon patrol. He distracted Steve with his own issues and needed to be taken to med bay.
—-
He doesn’t know where he got the idea from. Truly. There was no lightbulb moment; just an intuition that what he was planning was the right thing. There he was, though, three days after the failed patrol, standing in the middle of his room with the door locked, which is rarely done. It already made him feel guilty, but there was so much guilt swirling around in his chest recently that he barely registered the added weight that this guilt added.
“Hey FRIDAY,” he called out, staring at the vial in his hand with carefully crafted pride, all while fear was simmering within him.
“Yes, Mr. Parker?” The AI’s voice answered.
“Start a log entry for day one of Mithridatism. Clearance code Spider,” he started. He waited until there was a small beep before continuing to speak. “I have developed a high acting poison that I will slowly expose myself to over the course of a month, upping the dosage amount each time.”
It was an idea that had festered in his brain and had him coming down to Tony’s lab random hours of the day when he knew that no one would be there. It had him lying when Mr. Stark asked what he was working on, when he finally clocked onto the hours that Peter was suddenly spending in the lab. Peter had lied and said he was working on a mockup for a stronger web fluid concoction, guilt tasting bitter in his mouth.
He wasn't sure the others would understand the idea the way it made sense in his brain, but it had to be done. For the sake of the team. After a good amount of research, he was confident that if he slowly exposed himself to the poison he made, which acts as a common mix of many common poisons out there, that what happened on patrol wouldn't happen again.
More information was spoken aloud so that FRIDAY would store it all in his data log. This was an experiment after all. Plus it helped quell the anxiety if he approached this from a scientific standpoint. When he reached the point where he was more rambling than listing facts, he shut up and uncorked the vial in his hand.
“Welp, bottoms up,” he said before tilting his head back and taking a quick swallow of the poison before lowering the vial and corking it.
Immediately, salvia filled his mouth and he was dry heaving over the floor as his mouth burned. He could practically feel the course the poison took as it traveled down his esophagus, burning the entire way.
Tears brimmed in his eyes as he continued to cough against the searing pain, willing for it to end. It seemed to go on forever until the pain faded, leaving Peter on his knees. Each breath he gulped down burned terribly, and he bit his lip to keep from making any more noise.
He wiped a sleeve across his face, embarrassed at his dramatic reaction. This was a good idea, he assured himself when the dark part of his brain reared its ugly head. If his reaction was anything to go off of, he needed this training. He needed to take matters into his own hands.
The others would be grateful that he was doing this. Being the youngest on the team, Peter was constantly coming up with ways that he could pull his weight. This method was just a bit more… intense.
He waited until his insides didn’t feel like they were getting torn apart before leaving his room that Tony had dedicated to him in the tower. His stomach was protesting harshly and his body was already feeling warmer, but he had things to do today.
Of course, the first person he ran into was Mr. Stark.
“Hey kiddo,” the man said, his face brightening in the way it does whenever Peter is around.
“Hi,” Peter responded, wincing at the hoarse sound of his voice.
Tony frowned, and Peter froze. “You alright? You sound sick.” Tony leaned closer, noticing the way that Peter was hunched over, sweat brimming his brow. “You look sick too.”
Peter laughed nervously. “I just came back from a workout, so I’m a bit tired is all. Besides, I can’t even get sick.”
Tony raised an eyebrow, and Peter knew he was screwed. “You? Working out willingly? Last time you were in the gym it was because Cap practically strong armed you down there,” the man said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Plus, we both know you can get sick. It takes something big to take you down, but it’s more than possible.”
Peter should’ve known better than to try to lie to Tony Stark. Especially when it came with his health. The man was painfully ignorant when it came to every subject but that somehow.
“Okay. I feel a little under the weather, but I’m good enough for patrol today, I swear.”
Tony looked torn, and Peter felt his hopes deflating. He wanted to at least get a patrol in before worse side effects kicked in. He knew that he was likely going to feel worse later, and he wanted to get out while he was ahead.
“Why don’t we wait and see how you feel tomorrow? I don’t want to send you out there if you’re sick.”
Peter groaned. “I can tell for myself if I’m good enough for patrol or not.”
Tony nodded. “I know, but you’re still a kid. Plus, May would have my head if she finds out I sent you out on patrol while sick. Think of it more as me saving my own ass than thinking you can’t handle yourself.”
Peter sighed dramatically. He didn’t want to go back to his room, or back to the apartment with May and wait to start feeling like crap. He wanted the escape that patrolling would offer, and hated even more the fact that he was treated like a kid.
But still, there was only so much he could protest. When Tony decided to be responsible, there was pretty much nothing he could do. So he accepted his fate with a smile that he hoped didn’t seem strained, and he left to go back to his room in that small apartment with May, feeling like he was letting the people that he looks up to most in the world down by not being good enough.
—-
After a night spent tossing and turning, Peter woke up feeling miserable. His face was pale and his brow was brimmed with sweat despite how cold he felt. His stomach was in anguish and his entire body felt like it was being held down. He thankfully was able to keep down the little food he forced down for dinner, but still the thought of eating food with how torn his throat felt seemed awful.
He stared longingly at his bed before getting dressed. Happy was going to be picking him up soon and taking him to the laboratory, so he wasn’t able to give into the urge to burrow under his blankets and get more sleep.
“You look like shit.” Was the first thing that left Happy’s mouth when Peter hopped into the car, putting his backpack on the seat next to him.
“Thanks man. You’re really making me feel good about myself,” Peter huffed with a roll of his eyes. Normally he would trade insults back and forth with the man, but with the way that he could the tires beneath the car move and the light had a personal vendetta against him, he didn’t feel like it.
Happy turned around to look at Peter, giving the teen a suspicious once over. Eventually he sighed and turned back around. “Just telling the truth.”
Tony was the first person he saw back in the compound, which of course made his life so much more difficult. Peter was planning on sneaking off to his room with his super stealth skills and doing some research.
But alas.
“Hey kiddo. Still not feeling good? Happy said you were acting weird,” Tony asked, adopting his Fatherly Voice as Peter liked to put it.
“Traitor,” Peter coughed under his breath. “I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
Stark looked like he wanted to disagree. “Would you tell me if you weren’t feeling good?” he asked.
“Yeah. Of course,” Peter said easily. He really wanted to say no. That he didn’t want to seem weak in front of the hero. His hero. He was doing what he needed in order to pull his weight on a team of superheroes.
But he knew that Tony wouldn’t get it. The man still treated him like he was a kid, and it was only going to hold Peter back. So he slipped away from the conversation when Bruce showed up, asking Tony to look over a design mock up. He headed over to his room and locked the door behind him, trying not to feel guilty about ditching his mentor.
“FRIDAY,” Peter called out, spinning around in his chair before putting his feet on the ground and leaning over his desk. “Record log entry for Mithridatism. Day two. Clearance code Spider.”
Again he waited for that beep before continuing. “Symptoms after twenty four hours of the poison include nausea, dizziness, internal pain, fever, and restless sleep. It seems to have peaked sometime during the night. I believe that I’ll be ready for round two by the end of the day today.”
Someone coughed pointedly from his bedroom door, and Peter startled, shooting a web towards the doorway.
An unimpressed Natasha stood a few inches inside his door now, arms crossed as she stared unamusedly at the web now three inches to her left. “Was that really necessary?”
Peter winced. “Sorry, reflex.” He gave the woman an awkward smile. “How much, um, did you hear?”
Natasha shrugged, walking further into Peter’s room and sitting down at the foot of his bed. “Enough to know that you’re poisoning yourself. Does Tony know about this?” she asked, voice neutral.
Peter panicked though. “Please don’t tell Mr. Stark! I swear I’m doing this as safely as I can, I just.” He sighed. “People got hurt last patrol because I messed up. I need to be doing what I can to stop that from happening again.”
Natasha sighed, her expression softening. “I get it, kid. You need to remember that you’re still a kid, though. Most of us here weren’t half the hero you are at your age. I’m not saying to take it easy, but maybe poisoning yourself isn’t the best idea.”
“I’m not a kid, though. As soon as I became Spiderman, I became something more. I can’t be a kid anymore, not when I’m out there,” Peter expressed, gesturing with his hands towards the window.
“I wont tell Stark.” Peter mentally cheered. “But I think that you should talk to him. You’re never going to be indestructible, and trying to become that is only going to get you more hurt.” With that, Natasha stood up and left, not without giving Peter a hair ruffle on her way out, shutting the door behind her.
Peter sighed into his hands once she was gone, leaning over his desk. “Am I doing the right thing?” he asked into the open air. As expected, nothing answered him. That was perhaps the hardest part about being a hero; the fact that there was no line in the sand. There was no guidebook on what to do. It was all trial and error, and it kind of terrified Peter.
But, staring at the box that held the poison vial on his desk, he wondered what section ‘poisoning yourself to gain immunity to it’ would fall under. He just hopes it’s not under the dumbassery section or else he’s going to be upset.
—-
If Tony thought that something was wrong with his kid- with Peter- before, that was nothing compared to how he looked and acted when he finally came out of his room for dinner several hours after squirreling away doing whatever it was he did in there. The kid had been spending the past week burrowed away in his room working on some project that he was being all evasive about.
Tony wasn’t blind. He could tell how much that failed mission was affecting Peter. He did what he could to reassure the kid and lift his spirits, but Peter was like him in the sense that he was stubborn as shit. He tried not to let it get him down whenever Peter denied hanging out with him in favor of working on his project. It was likely just a coping skill so that he wasn't blaming himself, so Tony would let Peter do what he needed to do.
So Tony expected a lot of things when Peter walked out of the room after FRIDAY alerted him that food was ready. Maybe bags under his eyes from the sleep that Tony knows he wasn’t getting. Maybe ash smeared on his cheek from another fire that he managed to start a bit too often.
What he didn’t expect, however, was for him to come stumbling down the hall whiter than a ghost.
“Underoos!” Tony shouted, rushing to meet Peter halfway down the hall. The kid practically melted in his arms, breaking out into a fit of coughs. “FRIDAY, page Bruce. Tell him we need him over here,” Tony called out.
“No! It’s fine, just give me a minute,” Peter coughed, his voice sounding wrecked and slightly slurred.
Tony gave the kid an appraising look. “Like hell you’re fine. What’s going on?” Tony couldn’t keep the lace of panic from creeping its way into his voice. This was his kid, and he was one second from keening over.
Peter, ever the stubborn mule, shook his head. “I’m… hm…” Peter trailed off, his eyes glazing over as he suddenly went limp, falling unconscious.
“Shit!” Tony yelped, dragging himself down to the ground as he caught Peter so the two of them were on the floor. He grabbed the sides of Peter’s face, smacking his cheek lightly. “C’mon kiddo, wake up.”
“What happened?” Bruce asked, running down the hallway and stopping in front of the two of them.
“I don’t know. He just came out of his room practically stumbling down the hall and then he passed out on me.” Bruce was taking Peter’s temperature, timing it on his watch.
“He poisoned himself,” a third voice chimed in. Natasha was leaning against the wall, trying her best to look uncaring even if her eyes never left the kid, something like concern brewing in them.
“Poisoned himself? What?” Tony asked, suddenly feeling out of breath. The air felt like it was being squeezed out of his lungs, and his blood ran cold.
“He wanted to expose himself to poison to build immunity or something. I walked in on him filming a data entry.”
Tony was suddenly filled with rage. “Hold on, you knew about this?” He asked, gesturing towards the unconscious Peter.
Natasha held up her hands. “I didn’t know this would happen. I tried to tell him that it wasn’t a good idea, but he’s like you, Tony. Once he gets an idea in his head there’s no changing his mind.”
“So you tell me! You tell someone so shit like this doesn’t happen.” Tony was well aware that he was yelling, but he couldn't do nothing right now and he felt pretty damn helpless having Peter just lay there. He didn't know what to do, and it scared him. It scared him a lot if he ever allowed himself to admit that.
“Guys! Now is not the time for this. Nat, do you know where he kept the poison? If I can figure out what he used I can make an antidote to reverse the side effects,” Bruce asked, gaining both of their attention.
Natasha nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was the box on his desk. He kept on sneaking glances to it.” Tony almost smirked. His first thought was needing to teach Peter never to glance at your hiding spot. Then he realized the circumstances and realized maybe it’s for the best the kid doesn’t know that.
Bruce came running out of Peter’s room, holding up a vial. “I’ll have FRIDAY run a test to see the components of a poison and then start cross working for the antidote,” he said.
Tony nodded, still reeling over the fact that Peter was harming himself for the sake of the team. He felt a sense of guilt curdling in his stomach, making him feel sick. Stark carried the kid in his arms to the med bay, placing him on the bed carefully. The movement jostled Parker, who’s eyelids fluttered and eventually opened.
“Well look who decided to wake up,” Tony drawled sarcastically, though his voice was far too concerned to hold the anger he wished it did. He gave Peter time to remember where he was, and he could practically see the puzzle pieces snapping together when Peter turned to his mentor with a guilty expression on his face.
“Mr. Stark! I swear it’s not what it looks like!”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not slowly poisoning yourself so that you can ‘gain immunity’ without telling anyone,” he asked.
Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. “Okay so maybe it’s exactly what it looks like. But it was for the sake of the team! We failed because I wasn’t good enough. I’m just- I’m trying to be better.”
Peter ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Tony hated how weak his voice was still sounding. Hated seeing the kid so pale and clammy. Hated that he was going through this.
“Peter. There’s not many of us that would survive a poisoning. I think you and Cap are the only ones that would even stand up to it. I would’ve died if I was the one poisoned while on that patrol. So would’ve Sam, and Rhodes, and probably Natasha despite her insistence that she’s indestructible,” Tony said, sending a look to Nat who was hanging out a couple feet away from where Peter was lying.
“I mean…” Nat trailed off when Tony gave her a pointed look.
Peter huffed out a laugh. “I know. I know that, but I am one of the ones that can stand up to it, and so if I can do it I want to be able to do more.”
Tony nodded, resting a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder when the kid started to get more worked up. “I know. You’re selfless to a fault. You need to realize that you don’t need to be perfect. The way you are now is enough, and you’re only going to get stronger from here. Without needing to poison yourself to do so.
Peter looked torn, two ideas seeming to war with each other in his mind. Tony wished that he had some sort of power that would let him know just what he needed to say in order to make his kid get this.
Thankfully, Peter seemed to get it enough. “Yeah, okay. It sucked enough anyways.”
Tony laughed. “Yeah, that’s kind of what happens when you poison yourself. Bruce is working on an antidote that will reverse the symptoms, but until then you should try and get some sleep,” he said.
“Thank goodness,” Peter sighed in relief. He laid back down against the bed, Tony’s hand still resting on his shoulder. The kid slowly relaxed into the bed until his breathing leveled out, and Tony eventually drew himself away from the hunched over position he had taken over, opting to sit on the chair that he pulled up next to the bed.
“If I ever find out that you knew about Peter getting hurt and didn’t tell me, we’re going to have issues. Understand?” Tony said to Natasha without taking his eyes off of Peter.
“Understood, boss,” Nat responded with a sarcastic tone. Though, if the way she never left Peter’s side until the antidote was in his system and taking well, he knew that she truly did understand.