Outnumbered

Peter places a Dexcom sensor, alcohol prep swab, and new transmitter on the kitchen island as Tony takes a seat. They’d had a long conversation the evening prior after they’d both calmed down, with Tony appearing at Peter’s door to apologize and admit that in his effort to keep Peter as safe as possible, he’d forgotten what was most important. He’d invited Peter to come up with some reasonable amendments to his rules, discussed how Peter felt about his devices and being reliant on technology. It hadn’t been an easy conversation, nor a quick one, but he’d let Peter do as much of the talking as possible, let him set the tone and pace.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Peter offers, giving Tony the opportunity to back out.

“I promised. I don’t back out of promises.” He lifts the sleeve on his left arm.

“What made you want to do this, anyway?” Peter asks, curious.

“That day in the kitchen, before your support group, you said that May and I don’t know what any of this feels like and therefore we couldn’t understand. I thought you had a point and it stuck with me. And then when we fought about Dex, I realized that it wouldn’t hurt to put myself in your shoes for a little bit.”

Peter smiles. “Thanks.”

“Anything for you, Underoos. That’s why I came up with so many stupid rules in the first place.”

Peter laughs, wipes Tony’s skin with the alcohol swab. As it dries, he rips the Dexcom packaging open and peels the protective papers off of the bottom of the sensor applicator. With a steady hand, he presses it securely against Tony’s skin. “I’m sorry if this part hurts.”

“Bruce said it’s supposed to be nearly painless.”

Peter gives a small laugh and rolls his eyes. “Bruce has never had to wear one of these. Sometimes it’s fine, but most times, it stings for a bit. Let me know if it feels like I hit a nerve or muscle or something.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Tony comments just as Peter flicks the failsafe off and presses down on the button. The sensor releases from the applicator.

“Jesus Christ!” Tony yelps, nearly jumping off of the chair as the needle inserts the wire. He’s holding his elbow in his right hand, shoulders up and body stiff as his face twists in pain. “That fucking hurt!”

“Shoot, it’s bleeding a bit,” Peter notes, trying to get a good look at it. “Stop moving for a second.”

Tony tries to comply, looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “Okay, I think it’s getting better. Like, definitely a 7/10 right now instead of a 9/10.”

“No need to be a baby about it,” Peter chides.

“I bet you loved every second of that,” Tony jokes back.

“Kind of. Except the part where I actually hurt you.” Peter inserts the transmitter, waits for the two clicks to be sure that it’s secure. “I’m sorry it was painful. And that it bled.”

“I’m sorry I kept telling you it’s not supposed to hurt, kiddo. That was…” he trails, exhaling. “It still stings.”

“It’ll probably go away tomorrow,” he says, shrugging as he takes Tony’s phone in his hand and starts the sensor. “You’ve got a two-hour warmup and then you’ll be up and running. I’m going to follow you on the Follow app. It’ll be nice to see someone else’s numbers for a change. Don’t be alarmed if you get some false lows in the first 24 hours.”

“I run on coffee and Dexcom alarms,” he jokes. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. A few more alarms won’t kill me.”

Peter collects the garbage from the counter and tosses it, puts the applicator into the sharps bin on the counter. When he turns around, Tony’s got his arms crossed and is smiling.

“What?” Peter asks, suspicious.

“I wanted to wait until this was done,” he says, motioning toward his Dexcom, “to give you the good news.”

Peter narrows his eyes at the mention of “good news.”

“We have a meeting at JPL in two weeks,” Tony announces.

“Wait…what?! JPL as in…NASA?!”

Tony chuckles. “Is there any other? They want to go over some specifics of the design in-person.”

“B-but it’s not my design. Not really. You mean that you have a meeting, right?”

“We,” Tony corrects, pointing to Peter and himself. “We have a meeting because it’s ours. As in being patented in our names. Well, the element will be in my name, but the design itself is all yours, kiddo.”

“Are you crazy?!” Peter asks, incredulous. “Tony, no, y-you can’t just…put a propulsion system for NASA in my…in my name…when you did so much of the w-work…”

“You’re the one that came up with the design for the shape. Without that, we’d still be back at the drawing board.”

“Tony,” Peter says, shaking his head. “Y-you have to put it in your name!”

“Too late,” he answers, shrugging.

Peter’s arms are around Tony in an awkward attempt at a hug before Tony can say anything.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Peter says, hugging him tighter, and Tony feels his arms embrace the kid, his lips curving into a genuine smile. He knows how much this means to Peter after all of his hard work. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Tony gives a squeeze. “You deserve it. And you’re my favorite intern, so…”

“I’m your only intern,” Peter throws back, laughing as he pulls away. He takes a deep, fulfilling breath and runs a hand through his hair. “This is really happening,” he says in disbelief. “We have a meeting at NASA!”

Tony nods, ruffles Peter’s hair. “And lots to do before then.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Peter says, feeling a rush of energy run through him. “When do you wanna go over everything?”

“How’s now sound?”

“Perfect!” Peter says, Tony placing a hand on his back, the two of them gloating over the ingenuity of their design on the way down to the lab.

X

“You have to promise you’ll hold my hand, okay?” Peter says, taking Morgan’s in his, because losing her on this day trip is not an option. She has a tendency to wander, and while he knows that Pepper and Tony used a leash on her at Disney when she was three because it’s in the pictures on the wall in the living room, he doesn’t want to be seen walking around with a five-year-old leash child at the Museum of Natural History.

“I wanna hold MJ’s hand, too,” she whines, grabbing MJ’s with her free hand.

Peter gives Morgan a look, but MJ shrugs. “It’s fine.”

Peter presses with “You remember what Daddy said?”

“That I have to listen to everything you and MJ say,” Morgan repeats, looking unenthused. “And that I can only press the button on my watch if there’s an emergency.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s ‘emergency’ mean?”

“It means,” MJ says sweetly, “that something’s wrong and you need people to help you.”

“Like when Petey needs a juice box?”

She smiles, knowingly. “Sort of. There’s all different kinds of emergencies,” MJ explains. “Some are small, like when you need a band-aid, and others are big, like when someone needs a doctor.”

“He said don’t press it unless I’m scared, but I’m never scared, so I’m not gonna press it!” she explains, triumphant.

“Mo, you get scared during Aladdin,” Peter reminds her.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do! You watched it the other night and then you came crawling into my bed at like, two in the morning crying about Jafar!

“’Cause I didn’t know if Mommy and Daddy were home yet!”

“Wow, you two really do argue like siblings,” MJ says with a laugh.

They swing Morgan between them so that she can avoid the cracks in the sidewalk, MJ smiling as she playfully sings, “Step on a crack and you’ll break your mother’s back…” followed by a string of rapid-fire questions from Morgan and a child-friendly explanation of what a superstition is from MJ where she promises that stepping on a crack won’t, in fact, break Pepper’s back, leading into a continuation of the swinging, only now it’s to the tune of “Baby Shark.”

They’ve walked the few avenues to avoid a subway transfer, and Peter hates that he’s suddenly thinking about his blood sugar, because walking makes him drop and they’ve been swinging Morgan between them and did he bolus too much for breakfast even though it’s the same thing he always eats, and maybe he’s sensitive to insulin today, because it’s hot and a Friday and a full moon and sometimes he’s sensitive and…

He glances at his watch on his left wrist, sees 137, and exhales.

“Peter,” Morgan says, pulling on his hand as she and MJ move toward the subway entrance at Port Authority. “Come on!”

X

MJ reaches for Peter’s hand while they’re staring up at the giant blue whale model hanging from the ceiling of the Hall of Ocean Life. Morgan’s running in circles beneath it, jumping as if she’ll be able to reach it.

“Is this okay?” MJ asks.

“More than okay,” Peter says, blushing.

“I used to think that it was a real whale,” MJ says, laughing at herself, and Peter likes that about MJ. That she can say something random and laugh at herself, doesn’t need Peter to laugh back.

“I actually thought the same thing,” Peter replies, his eyes darting down to check on Morgan. She’s lying flat on her back like a starfish now, making invisible snow angels as she lies beneath the whale.

“I used to do that too,” MJ adds. “Not the snow angels. Just…laying beneath the whale. My dad used to tell me-”

“That if you stared long enough, you’d see it move?”

“Yeah,” MJ says, surprised that Peter has a similar memory.

“I think it was just Ben trying to shut me up for a little while,” Peter says with a laugh. “If you couldn’t tell, I was a bit of a chatterbox.”

She turns to him. “So, you were quite loquacious, then?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “SAT words again?”

“Just trying to get you on my level,” she jokes.

“Hey!”

She laughs. “I’m joking, Parker.”

“Ben used to take me here a lot when May was working.”

MJ leans into Peter, puts her chin on his shoulder. “You’ve brought him up a few times, but I’ve been afraid to ask what happened.”

“I’m not really…ready yet. To talk about it. This just makes me miss him, is all. It’s okay. I’m…okay.” He gives a small smile. “I’m glad that I get to show Morgan all of my favorite exhibits. It brings me back to the good memories.”

“I’m all about the good memories,” she reiterates, smiling as Morgan stands up and starts running and jumping again.

X

“What’s that thing on your arm?” Morgan asks MJ as they’re grabbing lunch in the museum food court. She’s pointing at the small white box peeking out beneath the sleeve of MJ’s t-shirt. Her Omnipod.

“Morgan!” Peter chastises, pulling a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the display for her. “You can’t just ask people stuff like that!”

“It’s fine,” MJ says, laughing. “I’d rather people ask than stare.” She turns her arm and gets down on Morgan’s level. “This is my insulin pump. It different from Peter’s, but it can do the same things.”

“Baymax!” Morgan announces happily when she sees the design, a pair of eyes that MJ’s drawn in Sharpie, up close. “He’s from our favorite movie, right Petey?”

A smile spreads across his face. “Yeah, Mo.”

“Do you need a lot of juice boxes, too?” Morgan bites her lip, nervously rubs her ankle with her sneaker. It’s innocent, not intrusive, but Peter worries it seems so. He stiffens.

“Only sometimes,” MJ responds, smiling softly.

“Emergencies,” Morgan recalls from earlier.

“Exactly. Small emergencies. But we’re all okay right now, right Peter?” MJ looks up at him, Morgan following, and he knows, now, that MJ has picked up on Morgan’s anxiety about bad, scary things happening.

“Yup, we’re all perfectly fine,” he says with the most reassuring smile he can muster. “Let’s pick out what you want to drink, okay?”

As Morgan’s focused on the wall of milk and juice, Peter rubs the back of his head and whispers, “S-sorry, she’s seen a lot of my lows. I tend to get a little…”

“Hangry?” MJ jokes, but beneath her cool smile, Peter can tell that she knows exactly what he’s getting at without him having to explain.

“Y-yeah.”

“What are you apologizing for, anyway?”

“Morgan? I-I don’t know.” He shrugs, lifts Morgan up so that she can pull the pink chocolate milk from the shelf herself.

“You’re really good with her.”

“Thanks,” he says, laughing nervously.

“She’s a smart cookie. And sweet.”

“You think that now,” Peter jokes. “Wait until we tire her out and she’s cranky.” They each grab a turkey sandwich, MJ a diet Coke and Peter a diet Snapple. After checking out, they find a table in the corner, Peter giving himself a bolus on his pump before setting up Morgan’s food.

X

They’re on line for the planetarium show when Peter asks, “Can I tell you a secret?”

MJ laughs. “Yes?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

She narrows her eyes. “Who would I tell, Peter? My friends?”

“You have friends, MJ,” he says, laughing. “I had to ask because I don’t want it getting around.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Does Ned know?”

“Yeah, and Morgan, but only because they were there when I got the news.”

“Is this where you tell me you’re not actually Peter Parker,” MJ jokes, and Peter has to hide his sudden panic that she might follow up with a question that leads to Spiderman.

“Petey, look!” Morgan yells, pointing at the display of planets hanging from the ceiling in the Rose Center. “Which one are you going to with your spaceship?”

“You’re going to space?” MJ whispers, confused.

“No,” he corrects, rolling his eyes as the line moves forward. “Mo, I’m not going to space. We’ve been over this.” He leans in close to MJ and whispers, “I designed something that’s going to space.”

“Like…with SpaceX?” MJ whispers back.

“Like with NASA.”

MJ whistles, her eyes going wide. “Impressive, Parker. I knew you were smart, but damn.”

He blushes. “Tony and I sort of have a meeting at JPL in a week and a half. The design…it’s gonna be patented in my name, which is really cool, a-and–”

“JPL?!”

“I know, right?!” he asks, so excited that he’s nearly bouncing as he walks. “Promise you won’t say anything?”

“Again, who am I gonna tell?” she jokes. “I’m happy for you, Peter. I know you love physics. I feel like it’s your…thing. Maybe this is part of your Plan B.”

Peter hands their tickets over to be scanned, letting MJ’s comment sink in.

Plan B.

Plan B has been this shitty diagnosis, Tony’s stupid rules, missing out on States and Nationals and forcing his team to as well. It’s been having to let flying go (for now, at least) and fighting with Tony about painful site changes and wearing tech.

But it’s also been time with MJ dancing in her room, swimming at John Jay, getting Starbucks and walking the city. It’s been the same old Saturday mornings with Morgan on the couch, albeit with a few changes, and more time with Tony in his lab. It’s been finishing their propulsion design. May and Happy’s wedding.

Plan B, Peter realizes, started long before that day at the college fair.

He’s been living it ever since that day in March when he woke up in MedBay.

The lights dim as the announcements start. He silences his pump, helps Morgan tilt her chair back so that she can better see the ceiling.

“I’m scared,” she whines, squeezing Peter’s hand as the ceiling illuminates, music swelling.

“We’re safe, Mo. Promise. You can hold my hand if you want, though. It’s like the View Master, but better. Let’s give it a few minutes and see what happens. If you really don’t like it, you can let me know and I’ll take you outside, okay?”

She nods, leaning against Peter as the colors and music swirl together. “And then we’ll see the dinosaurs?”

“Yup. Just like I promised.”