Allergic to Lavender
Peter Parker had been having a good day.
The kind of good day that didn’t usually come with his name on it. His biology paper was finally done, he’d gone a full month without needing his EpiPen, and the decathlon team was on a field trip to the botanical gardens, which meant a whole school day without sitting in a classroom pretending he didn’t already know everything in the lesson plan.
He was even looking forward to walking around with MJ and Ned, making dumb observations about plants while MJ judged the world with her usual quiet intensity. Peter, ever the allergy-prone teen, had doubled up on antihistamines just in case, and was smugly confident that this would be one of those rare, uneventful, peaceful school trips.
That optimism lasted all of twelve minutes.
The lavender greenhouse was at the far end of the gardens—tall glass panels catching the sunlight and drawing in a group of excited students led by a cheerful guide. Peter didn’t notice the sign until he was already inside.
“Medicinal Aromatherapy Exhibit—Featuring Fresh Lavender, Eucalyptus, and Jasmine.”
The smell hit him like a wave.
His first thought was that it was strong—too strong. Not just floral, but sharp and cloying, like it was crawling into his sinuses. Then, in a blink, the burning started. His throat tightened. His chest ached. His tongue felt wrong, like it was swelling.
He staggered back, bumping into a railing. MJ turned toward him, frowning.
“You okay?”
Peter tried to answer, but it came out garbled. The panic didn’t hit until he realized he couldn’t swallow. Something was happening—something bad—and it wasn’t peppermint this time.
Ned appeared beside him a second later, face going pale. “Peter?”
Peter's legs buckled.
MJ was already on the ground, catching his fall. She was calling his name, shaking him. The other students around them froze, unsure what to do.
“EpiPen,” MJ said, trying to keep calm. “He has it—check his backpack.”
Ned dropped to the ground, fumbling through Peter’s bag, finally pulling out the black case and ripping it open. MJ took it and jabbed the injector into Peter’s thigh like she’d practiced once, hoping it would work as quickly as it had with peppermint.
But Peter wasn’t getting better.
His breathing didn’t return. His body kept spasming, face pale and lips taking on a frightening blue tinge. One of the garden chaperones was already on the phone with emergency services, but MJ was shouting at them now.
“Tell them he’s Stark Medical! He has a bracelet, look at his wrist! You need to take him to Stark Medical right now!”
A paramedic arrived, read the bracelet, and didn’t hesitate.
“Clear a path—we’re calling in air evac. Stark Med is closest with synthetic adrenaline support. Prep vitals, call ahead.”
As the team loaded Peter onto a stretcher, MJ caught sight of his hand twitching.
“Peter, you stay awake, okay? You don’t get to die from flowers. That’s embarrassing.”
But he was already unconscious.
At Stark Medical, the doors flew open before the emergency crew even landed.
Tony Stark met the stretcher with two doctors, four nurses, and a medical AI projecting diagnostics directly onto the wall as Peter was wheeled into an isolation pod.
“Throat’s nearly closed,” one medic reported. “He went into shock during transit. His EpiPen was ineffective—partial absorption only.”
“FRIDAY,” Tony snapped, walking beside the gurney, “run a full cellular diagnostic. I want a breakdown on what compound caused this.”
“Initial scan suggests linalool and linalyl acetate—found in lavender. Reaction consistent with enhanced arachnid immune response.”
“Fantastic,” Tony muttered. “Another one.”
Peter woke hours later, lips cracked, throat sore, but breathing.
He was alone at first. The room was dim and humming softly with machinery. He blinked up at the ceiling, then slowly turned his head—and found Tony Stark sitting in the corner, sleeves rolled up, typing something into a holographic console with a scowl on his face.
“You live,” Tony said, without looking up. “Congratulations.”
Peter rasped, “Lavender?”
“Lavender.” Tony turned the screen so Peter could see it. “Congratulations. You’ve added another thing to the list of ‘seemingly harmless substances that try to murder you.’”
Peter let out a weak groan and covered his face with his arm.
“New allergy list just dropped,” Tony continued, standing and walking over to his bedside. “We compiled it from your cellular reaction patterns and cross-referenced it with what affects spider nervous systems. Lavender’s the big one. Jasmine’s a risk. Chamomile? Could go either way. We’re adding all known terpenoids and esters that trigger defensive responses in arachnids.”
Peter dropped his arm, peeking up at him. “You’re making me allergic to tea now?”
“You’re lucky you’re not allergic to air,” Tony shot back. “Also—you’re getting a new bracelet. Upgraded. Pulses if your oxygen drops, transmits live data to FRIDAY, and auto-alerts my private line.”
“You really didn’t have to—”
“I really did, kid. You almost flatlined.” Tony paused. “That’s not something I let happen to people under my care.”
Peter swallowed hard. “MJ saved me. She used the EpiPen. Ned got my bag.”
Tony nodded. “They did everything right. But next time—there better not be a next time.”
He tapped the console again, and a file appeared on-screen titled: “Parker: Tier 1 Reactive Allergy Protocol.”
Stark Medical Advisory for Midtown High – CONFIDENTIAL
Patient: Peter Parker
Critical Allergens (Updated):
Peppermint (Mentha piperita)
Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia)
Jasmine (Jasminum officinale)
Chamomile (Matricaria recutita) – Observe for delayed reaction
Terpenoids, Linalool, and related esters – High risk due to spider-based mutation
Response Protocol:
Do not administer standard epinephrine alone. Synthetic stabilizers required.
Under no circumstances transport to standard hospitals. Use Stark Med only.
Bracelet and beacon MUST be worn at all times.
“Your school’s getting another list,” Tony added, voice tight. “Along with a very strongly worded letter from Pepper and four new emergency kits.”
Peter blinked. “They’re going to love that.”
“They’ll love it more than a funeral.”
Peter didn’t argue with that.
Later, MJ came to visit. She brought orange juice, a tiny fake cactus that said “Low Risk Plant” on a post-it, and a card signed by the whole decathlon team—even Flash.
“You scared the crap out of everyone,” she said, sitting beside his bed.
“I scare people all the time,” Peter croaked.
“Yeah, but usually it’s with your social skills. Not your actual death.”
Peter smiled weakly. “Thanks for saving me.”
MJ shrugged. “Next time, try being allergic to something that isn’t in shampoo.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
She handed him the cactus. “Try not to die. You’ve got a science quiz next week.”