Outnumbered

By the middle of August, Peter feels like he’s living the same day over and over.

Sleep in until 11. Pick up Morgan from her half-day camp at noon. Make lunch. Watch cartoons, Disney movies, and play board games to keep her occupied until Pepper gets home from work. Forget that school starts in two weeks.

They’re sitting on the carpet in the living room with the Pretty Pretty Princess board between them, plastic jewelry strewn about, the spinner in Peter’s hand. It’s not exactly where he wishes he were, but time with Morgan is better than sitting in his room alone.

Currently, he’s wearing a bright blue necklace and bracelet, as well as the black ring on his right pinkie finger.

He spins the dial and it lands on an earring space. He grabs one blue earring and places it down in front of him.

“Petey, you have to put the earring on if you wanna be the princess!”

Peter does not, in fact, want to be the princess, but he musters up a fake smile for Morgan, one he hopes she’s too focused to see through.

“I have the black ring, Mo,” he says with a laugh, lifting his hand. “I’m going to lose anyway.”

“You’re not gonna win if you act like that,” Morgan explains, taking the spinner from Peter. She’s a bracelet away from winning the crown.

It’s at the exact moment that the spinner lands on the same number of spaces that transfer the black ring from Peter to Morgan that Pepper walks through the door. Morgan is suddenly distracted, drops the spinner before she can see the outcome and throws herself at Pepper in the doorway.

Peter takes the opportunity to fix the spinner to the spaces Morgan needs to win.

“Don’t I look pretty, Mommy?” Morgan asks as Pepper picks her up and gives her a kiss on her head.

“You and Peter both look exquisite,” she exclaims, playing along.

“Looks like someone won a bracelet,” Peter says, picking up the pink piece of jewelry from the pile. “And a crown!”

“Yes!” Morgan cheers, scurrying out of Pepper’s arms and toward the game.

“You’re relieved of your duties, Peter,” Pepper jokes, and he gladly removes his jewelry and cleans the game up.

Morgan pouts “But we didn’t get to play Hungry Hungry Hippos yet!”

Peter cringes inwardly; Morgan is vicious at Hungry Hungry Hippos. She’s tiny, but it’s like she uses every ounce of strength in her little body to slam down on the lever, throwing the plastic marbles everywhere. The sound alone gives Peter a splitting headache.

Tony walks in, a suit jacket hung over his good arm. “How about we give Peter a break and you and I can play Hungry Hungry Hippos this weekend?”

“Daddy!” Morgan lights up and runs over to hug his leg.

Peter assumes he’s had a meeting, maybe a NASA one without him.

Things have been okay between them since the…fight? Is that what it was? And the talking after.

Peter isn’t sure what to call it all.

But things haven’t been normal, and it makes him feel like Tony is keeping secrets from him.

Like he’s leaving him behind. On projects, Avengers stuff.

They haven’t had a day in the lab together, nor a mission.

They sit in silence when it’s just them in the kitchen grabbing a snack.

It feels like rejection even though they’ve talked everything through.

Everything except for the anxiety that it will happen again. That his diabetes will cause another fiasco, send his team and his family scrambling, and he can’t figure out how to stop it yet.

“Why can’t we play now?” Morgan asks, jumping up and down.

“Because Peter and I have some NASA work to do in the lab. How about we grab ice cream at Van Leeuwen’s after dinner, though?” he asks, Pepper giving him a look. “As long as Mommy says it’s okay.”

“You always put me on the spot,” Pepper whispers, rolling her eyes. “She’s had enough sugar for today.”

Tony makes a quick face that says sorry while also smiling; he knows what he’s doing, Peter thinks, and it makes him laugh.

“Fine, ice cream after dinner!” Pepper agrees, throwing her hands up.

Tony changes into jeans and a Ford Mustang t-shirt before meeting Peter down in the lab.

“I thought we finished everything with the NASA project?” Peter says, fiddling with a piece of wire left on one of the work tables.

“We did.”

“Then why…”

“Because I’ve been too busy to spend any time with you and I didn’t want you to think it was on purpose.”

“So, it wasn’t on purpose?” Peter’s been afraid to ask, hasn’t wanted to rock the boat.

“I’d much rather spend the day with you than sifting through binders of financial statements with the board of execs, kiddo.” He ruffles Peter’s hair and leads him over to the holoscreen. “Got any new projects in mind?”

“Um,” Peter starts, biting his lip. He has an idea, but something is keeping him from sharing it. He can sense that Tony knows he’s nervous, so he stops his foot from tapping and stands up straight to seem more confident.

“I know what we need to get the creative juices flowing. FRIDAY, play us some classic rock.”

Guitar chords fill the lab before lyrics follow: “There she stood, in the street, smiling from her head to her feet.”

Tony sings along, exaggerating a microphone. “All right now, baby it’s a-all right now!”

Peter cracks a smile, tries to shake off some of the nerves. This is what you wanted, he thinks. Time with Tony in the lab, tinkering and getting lost in encyclopedia articles.

“So, ideas? I know you’re brain’s been cooking something up,” Tony says. “You’ve had a notebook and a pencil attached at your hip for the last week.

The notebook. The one where he’s been writing his ideas down. At first, it was just a place for rough sketches for next year’s science fair, but it had quickly turned into some kind of journal, one he hopes no one else ever reads.

“I, uh…was thinking about the science fair next year. It’s months away, but I was thinking of maybe designing an insulin pump that also delivers glucose? Or glucagon? A loop system, but one that handles highs and lows like a real pancreas. It would need a continuous glucose monitor to feed it real-world data, and I know there are some in the works already, but what if…what if we could make it easy to use and affordable?”

“An affordable and accessible bi-hormonal artificial pancreas,” Tony says, considering the idea.

“You’ve heard about them?” Peter asks, perking up. He’s been doing tons of research, has spent hours on Google Scholar collecting data and trying to theorize possible algorithms and coding. He knows they’ll be expensive when they hit the market, though. Almost all diabetes tech is. But he’s been thinking about recycled and recyclable plastic, rechargeable batteries, wants it to be something that goes beyond anything that already exists in every single way possible.

“I’ve read about them, but I think you’ve got a point on the cost-effective front. Would you be okay having Bruce advise on some of the medical components?”

“Of course! Y-you really think it’ll work?!”

The mission alarm rings.

Peter grumbles. Usually, he’s itching to jump into his suit, but after the last mission…

Tony checks his watch, and Peter looks at his as well. He’s 180 and coasting. High-ish, but perfect for the activity level of an impending mission.

His heart sinks as the rooftop and Tony’s voice from the last mission come to mind.

“Goddamnit, can someone get here and help me get this robot off my ass so I can get to Peter? Clint? Someone?!”

The rock music cuts out. “Let’s go,” Tony says, walking toward his suit at the other end of the lab.

“I’m…I’m not going.” Peter can’t get himself to look up at Tony as he says it.

Tony turns around a bit to abruptly, confusion spread across his face.

“Not going? For months you’ve been begging to go, and now you’re pulling yourself out?”

“I’m a liability,” Peter explains, his hands shaking. “You said it yourself: I put my team in danger.” His voice cracks and it sounds like he’s about to cry.

Why is he always about to cry?

“That’s not what I meant when I said that, Peter.” Tony’s voice is soft, not gruff.

“S-so then, what did you mean?” There’s a bite to his tone, a bit of anger. “Because you said that and now I’m afraid to let everyone down over something I can’t even control!”

“I meant that not taking care of yourself, not paying attention, put you and your team in danger, not that you’re a liability.”

“They’re the same thing!”

“If they were the same thing, then that would mean that me going out with my arm like this was a liability. But it’s not because my suit compensates, just like your Dexcom, pump, suit, Karen, and FRIDAY work together to keep you safe.”

Tony has a point, Peter thinks, but with the alarm blaring and FRIDAY relaying information about the drop point and who is already on scene, he can’t get his thoughts and emotions to stop racing.

“I’m supposed to help people, and it’s clear that my role on the team is doing the exact opposite.” Peter says it before he truly wants to, before he can fully think it through. He’s not ready for the hurt displayed on Tony’s face, the father-figure’s shoulders falling forward and his eyebrows knitting as he looks at Peter.

Tony puts his hands in his pockets, shifts his weight. He opens his mouth, pausing for a moment before eventually closing it with a sigh.

Finally, he says, “I was afraid this would happen at some point.” He rubs at his beard.

Peter looks down at his shoes. “I know that I should’ve checked the Bluetooth connection between my pump and suit before I went out during our last mission. I should’ve run a systems check like you always tell us to do after we tinker with our equipment, before we head out, and I just…got so ahead of myself that it slipped my mind completely. It was my fault and I feel so bad about everything!”

Peter’s crying now, has hot tears streaming down his cheeks. In a way, it’s relieving, but it’s also stirred up the tangle of emotions within him, and he’s doing that hiccuping that Morgan does when she knows she’s done something wrong.

“Tony, where are you?” Bruce’s harried voice cuts through the comm link FRIDAY has opened in the lab.

“On my way!” Tony calls out before he reaches for Peter’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes. “Underoos, I know I exploded on you when you didn’t deserve it. I know that what I did was wrong and that apologizing doesn’t fix it. And I know this is an important conversation that we need to have, but we have to go,” Tony says, sighing. “I have to go. But when I get home, we are going to sit down and talk about this, okay? I promise.”

Peter nods and holds as much of the emotion trying to get out in because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t want to fall apart any more than he already has. Because Tony has to go. Tony has to do this job.

Their job.

He thinks of the Avengers assembling, of everyone wondering where he is, but he brushes it aside and reminds himself that he’s in no shape to go. Mentally and physically.

“You’re sure?” Tony asks as he’s surrounded by nanobots piecing his suit together.

“I-I’m sure,” Peter answers.

Even though Tony knows Peter isn’t exactly sure, and even though Tony knows Peter is about to fall apart again, what he hears on the comms pulls him away.

“I promise. When I get back…”

And with that, Tony is off.