Outnumbered

“Bring an extra Dexcom sensor,” Tony advises from the doorway as Peter throws sunblock and a deck of Uno cards into his backpack. “Sometimes the adhesive weakens and people lose them in water.”

Peter rolls his eyes.

Tony crosses his arms. “What’s that for?”

“Because MJ said the same thing,” he says, laughing as he goes over to his diabetes supplies to grab a new sensor and some alcohol wipes. “She mentioned these overlay patches that help keep Dex on in the water. Maybe we can order some for the rest of the summer?”

“FRIDAY, add overlay patches to my shopping list.”

“Added to your shopping list,” she replies.

“Oh, and make sure you fingerstick every few hours. I was reading that water can make the Dex sensor wonky. Do you have your meter and cooler case for your pump?”

Peter stops, crosses his own arms. “Tony, you’re doing it again.”

He puts his arms up in defense. “I’m just asking if you have everything you need.”

“You promised to give me a little bit of space,” Peter explains. “How am I supposed to manage this on my own if everyone’s always doing it for me?”

“You’re right, I did,” Tony admits, letting his arms down. “Sorry, I’m just–”

“Worried, I know. Everyone is always worried about me.” He sighs, shoves a towel into his backpack.

“It’s because we care about you, kiddo. We just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” he mumbles, because he’s not angry with Tony, just wishes he’d back off a little bit with the verbal reminders and text messages every time he’s out of range, that he’d give Peter time to troubleshoot situations on his own.

Morgan appears at Tony’s side, leaning into her father’s leg. She looks over at Peter, notices he’s in swim shorts and a t-shirt. “I wanna go swimming, too, Daddy!”

“We have a pool here, baby. I can take you in a little while after I get some things done around the house.”

“But I wanna go with Peter!” she pouts.

“Hey, remember how we watched Night at the Museum?” Peter asks Morgan, crouching down in front of her.

She nods.

“How about we go this week? I can bring my friend MJ. I think it’ll be really fun!”

“Really?” she asks excitedly, looking up at Tony.

There’s a beat, and Peter worries for a moment that Tony might nix the idea. He’s mentioned MJ, though, so he won’t be alone with Morgan.

Tony sighs. “You guys can go to the museum this week,” he says.

“Yes!” Morgan cheers, jumping up and down.

A text from MJ pops up on his watch. We’re meeting at Grand Central in 10, right?

He replies with a thumbs up emoji and grabs his backpack.

“We’ll talk more later,” Tony says, Morgan giving him a hug around the legs before he dashes for the elevator.

X

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow. Do you want to use that as our museum day?” MJ asks as they’re sitting on lounge chairs at John Jay, Uno cards in their hands.

He puts down a blue six. “Can’t. May signed me up for this SAT class on Wednesday mornings.”

MJ makes a face and puts down a Wild. “Yellow. Despite the deep hatred I have toward the SAT in particular because of its history, I’m applying to Columbia and they require it, so I took the class Midtown offers last fall. It got me a decent score the first time around, but I might take it again to increase my chances. Where are you thinking of going?” she asks.

He goes to say Embry Riddle and MIT, but he’s frozen.

The college fair comes rushing back to him, his stomach suddenly uneasy.

He doesn’t know where he’s applying. Tony and May haven’t brought it up since the day he went to his first support group meeting.

His future is essentially…blank.

Peter knows that’s not actually true, that he’s in a better position than many, could skip college and work for Tony, possibly take over when it’s time for him to retire, but he’s been looking forward to After High School since forever and he doesn’t want to give that up just because of everything that’s happened in the last few months.

He’s still not sure he’s completely over not being able to fly. He’s not sure he’ll ever be.

“Oh, shit, the pilot thing. From group. That’s…this, isn’t it? Fuck.”

“Y-yeah. Kind of.”

“That’s really shitty, Peter. I’m sorry. It’s different when you’re diagnosed younger, you know? I don’t really remember much from before. I can’t imagine what this has been like for you.”

Peter’s surprised to hear the last bit, because MJ’s the only person he’s felt remotely connected to since this started. He puts down a yellow two.

“We’ll just have to find something else, come up with a new plan.” She adds a yellow five to the pile.

“Plan B,” Peter says, whipping out a reverse card and then a yellow eight.

MJ pulls her lips inward and thinks. “I mean, Plan B could suck big time, but it could also be something great. Maybe there’ll even be a Plan C and Plan D.” The thought terrifies Peter, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses until MJ adds, “You’re smart. I know you’ll figure out your way to make your mark on the world with something you’re really passionate about.”

“You getting all cliché on me?” he teases.

“Contrary to popular belief, I do have a compassionate side,” she retorts, changing the color to green with a Wild. “I just don’t always share it because I’m not really a people person. I like to study them, sure. Analyze them. But interact with them?” She makes a face and Peter laughs. “I guess socializing is my weakness.”

“Now who’s self-deprecating?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. She playfully hits him on the shoulder.

Peter puts down a green five. “So, let me guess, future psych major?”

She shrugs. “Depends on where I get in. If I get in.”

“You’re getting in, MJ,” he assures her as he goes through his cards. “Columbia would be stupid not to take you.”

She looks up at him and gives a small smile. “Thanks. I really want to go to Boston University, though. They just started this Center for Antiracist Research and I was thinking maybe I could find a way to link that with all of my interests by the time I graduate. I’m really into psych and linguistics, but I also want to do something with international relations and social justice. I know what I want, but I’m not sure it exists yet? Or if it ever will? Every time I try and explain it to my parents, they tell me they don’t understand what I’m talking about. So maybe I’m being ridiculous thinking I can pull all of that off.”

“I think it makes perfect sense. If anyone can figure out how to connect those things, it’s definitely you.”

She puts down a green two and calls, “Uno!” which Peter is thankful for because it’s starting to get too hot to sit baking like they are. They clean the game up, Peter unclipping his pump and placing it in the small cooler bag May bought for him. He slides in the little clip to close off his pump site from the pool water and stands up. When he takes his shirt off, he’s suddenly conscious that his pump and Dexcom sites are visible, but MJ’s wearing her Omnipod without a care in the world, and it gives him the confidence boost he needs to follow her to the pool without a second thought.

“How’s Friday for the museum, then?” she asks as they wade into the shallow end. “Oh, and you mentioned bringing Morgan in your texts, which is totally fine. I’m pretty good with kids, just not…like…people our age.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “She can be a bit of a handful sometimes.”

“Positive.”

He tells her a little about Morgan, how she likes dinosaurs and Disney princesses, how she follows him around sometimes like she’s his little shadow.

“I bet you fight like siblings,” MJ jokes, but Peter smiles, takes it as a compliment, and follows her into the deep end.

X

“Please tell me you saved the transmitter,” Tony says to a sunburnt Peter upon his return home without a Dexcom on his arm hours later. It had fallen off in the pool while they were swimming and Peter had taken the opportunity to give himself a short and much-needed break.

“Yes,” Peter assures him, digging the gray plastic piece out of the small pocket of his backpack and handing it over. “I know how expensive they are. I was responsible about it. See?”

“Why didn’t you put a new one on?” Tony sounds irritated, but also like he’s trying to hide it, and Peter’s not sure how to keep this conversation from becoming the argument that’s brewing.

“Because I was gross from sunblock and I was afraid it wouldn’t stick,” he tries to explain calmly. “And MJ does fingersticks because Dexcom is too expensive, so we both just kind of…did that.” He shrugs. “You wanted me to fingerstick anyway, so I didn’t really see the point in doing both.”

“May and I haven’t had Dex numbers since noon,” he argues, running his fingers through his hair. “Without it, you can’t run the Control-IQ update on your pump for your basal. And then you didn’t get back to us until an hour ago, even though we’ve been calling and texting. We have rules for a reason, Peter! You know you’re supposed to update us after you fingerstick!”

“The rule is that I have to text you if I fingerstick and I’m out of range, but I wasn’t! And I didn’t call or text back because you guys are always so overbearing! I can handle this myself! I did today! And I get to decide if I want to take a Dex break or not because it’s my body!” His voice is rising. “You know what? I had a really good diabetes day, like probably the best day since I was diagnosed, and you just ruined it completely!” he yells, storming off.

“You never used to be like this!” Tony calls out, following him.

“Oh, you mean before I got sick?” Peter asks as he whips back around. “Before my life got turned completely upside down?” Tears stream down his face. “You talk to me all of the time about how you know what I’m going through and then you just expect me to think and act exactly like you! But maybe I’m not you, Tony! Maybe I don’t want to be attached to devices 24/7! Maybe I want to have some choice in all of this when I barely get to choose anything! Maybe I want to figure out how to do this and be okay with it in my own ways!”

Tony takes a few steps forward, but Peter slams his bedroom door right in his face.

And then there’s silence.

Tony realizes a moment too late that he just did the exact opposite of what he’s been learning in his parent support group.

Kid first, diabetes second.

He hasn’t told Peter about the group yet, is afraid it’ll somehow keep him from going to his own support group even though he seems to like it well enough. He desperately wants Peter to find his own ways of managing the physical and mental components of this complicated disease, wants him to find some kind of peace in the uncertainty that comes with having a chronic illness, be that a support group or something else. He just wants him to be okay, whatever that really means.

And yet, he’d taken Peter out of the equation completely today, was too concerned with tech and numbers to focus on how well the kid had done all on his own.

Peter had been safe, with someone who knew diabetes better, probably, than both of them, and instead of asking Peter how his day had been, he’d focused solely on diabetes.

He’d forgotten about Peter.

Peter, who stays up with Morgan when she can’t sleep. Who promises her trips to museums and the park or hours of weekend cartoons when he could be doing literally anything else. Peter, who helps him design a renewable energy source to fuel NASA voyages to Mars, who has a brain and heart that Tony knows surpasses that of his own.

Peter.

How could he have forgotten about him?

He holds the gray transmitter for Peter’s Dexcom in his hand, rubs his thumb against the warp speed decal, and reminds himself how far the kid has come in such a short time.

Tony’s been doing this whole reactor-in-my-chest thing for more than a decade now, got to experience so much before it even happened, and Peter…

Peter’s only four months into this mess that no one saw coming.

He tries to bring himself back to high school, wonders how it might’ve felt if everything Peter was going through, everything he’d gone through in Afghanistan and with Thanos, had happened to him at that age instead.

It changes everything.