I’ve Seen Trouble All My Days
Peter barely made it to the toilet before he vomited. One, two, three times, until his throat was burning and stomach clenched and unclenched uncontrollably. His whole body felt clammy and when he looked down, he could see his hands were shaking. He felt as if he was out of his body watching a corpse reanimate after a zombie bite. His brain was sluggish and he couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor before coming back to himself. He noticed deep scratches on his arms—when he’d done that, he didn’t know—but couldn’t bring himself to care. It’s not like they wouldn’t heal, and it’s not like they haven’t been bigger. He absently examined the blood under his fingernails and, for a moment, couldn’t remember if it was leftover from the other day, or from his breakdownpanic attack mature and reasonable and not at all concerning response to the close call in his Quantum Mechanics class. He breathed deeply. (‘In for 4, out for 6, Pete. We can’t have you fainting on us, bud. Pepper wouldn’t like it if you missed dinner because you chose to take a nap on a random rooftop in Queens.’)
After a couple more minutes, he stood up and walked to the sink with shaky legs. He avoided the mirror because fuck mirrors and instead focused on the flecks of red washing down the drain. He heard the door open behind him. Popping his sunglasses back on, he readied himself to act like this was a perfectly normal bathroom and not the scene of some shitty B-movie drama.
“You ok, kid?”
Peter realized he had been staring at the person in the doorway for way longer than would be considered polite.
“…Okaaay, that’s what I get for being friendly. Excuse me I guess.”
Peter murmured an apology and stumbled out. He heard Happy curse drunk college students under his breath, and before the door shut, answer his ringing phone.
”Give me a second, boss. Morgan spilled her hot chocolate—no, just on me—yes, she’s fine waiting on me to—we’re right by the classroom, same building—yes, see you in literally two minutes, you overbearing hen.”
‘Happy, I’m fine.’
‘Peter, it was a mistake. A big mistake, but nothing that can’t be fixed. God knows I’ve rescued Tony from worse. How did that jackass get the glasses, anyway? I thought Tony told you to hold on to them.’
‘Happy, I just…I can’t talk about it right now.’
‘Ok, Pete. Let’s get you back home. May’s worried sick.’
Peter fumbled in his laptop bag for something to take. Steve’s painkillers were running low, but he thought this might qualify as that emergency Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner had told him about. Sure that was a few years ago, and really intended for hero related activities, but surely addict-murderer-burnout-total failure trash human related activities counted as well.
There was a window with a couple of chairs and a couch outside the lab, and as Peter searched for his sanity in capsule form, he heard a small gasp just as Happy called out for Morgan. He almost decided not to look up because apparently looking up was the cause of all his problems today—who knew demons haunted people in the form of precocious eight year-olds—but couldn’t help himself. It had been almost a year. And she? She looked like her mom, staring at him with a furrowed brow and curious eyes. He could tell she had grown. She was wearing a t-shirt with a cat dressed as a scientist that said “Steminist” and had a cake pop in her hand.
Peter shook his head briefly to clear his mind, and quirked an eyebrow.
”Can I help you?”
She quirked an eyebrow back and said, “You have toilet paper stuck to your cheek.”
“Thanks, literal baby child in the Physics building. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She smiled and then blinked and then smiled harder, and stepped closer.
Peter stepped back.
”Oh my gosh! I…I think I know you. This is totally going to sound weird, but I had this dream and…”
”Morgan, are you alright?”
”Uncle Happy, yes, hold on,” she turned back to where Peter was standing who immediately tossed a pill back, swallowed hard, and fixed her with a bored glare. He looked up at Happy, smirked, and said, “Perfect name for you, dude. Now I’m gonna go somewhere that’s not here since apparently this building has been turned into a daycare. Word of advice, kiddo. Don’t talk to strangers.” He walked off, trying to look unbothered.
He could barely make out Happy’s whispered “asshole” before he turned the corner.
Damned super hearing.