It was just going to be a simple weekend together. It was a long weekend for Peter with school, so he, May, and Happy decided to take a trip up to the compound. They had driven up on Friday as soon as Peter got out of decathlon practice. Peter and Tony had spent hours working in the lab until Pepper had called them up for a movie night.
Saturday had been a day filled with sparring and lab work. Tony and Peter had been eating a late breakfast when Peter had - looking at his waffles - said, “I wonder if I could stick to a non-stick pan?” And it had turned into a four-hour evening of seeing if there was anything Peter couldn’t stick to. The answer had been, so far, nothing.
May had walked into Tony’s lab at 4:30 to find Peter and Tony sitting crisscross on the floor, Peter’s hand in a bowl of water.
“What on earth is happening?” she asked, furrowing her brows as neither of the boys looked at her. She cleared her throat.
“Testing out… to see if I can stick,” Peter had responded, eyes glued to the bowl of water in concentration.
“Stick to what, exactly?”
“Water,” Peter had responded.
“Wow. Alright well. when that fails, you two come on up to the family floor. Dinner is almost ready.” And, watching them with genuine interest as to why they were both considered genius’, she stepped out of the hall.
Peter and Tony turned up in the kitchen not much later, looking disappointed.
“I can’t believe that I don’t stick to water,” came a grumble from Peter.
“But you do stick to wet things. I don’t really understand why you can’t stick to water.” Suddenly Peter perked up, whipping his head around to look at Tony.
“Do you think I could walk on water? Like those water spiders do?”
“I think that since the spider that bit you wasn’t a water spider… then probably not.” Peter just hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He turned to see May and Happy standing at the kitchen island chopping up pickles.
“Are those the- “
“Pickles I made myself last year? Yes, yes, they are,” she had said, a proud smile crossing her face. Peter had smiled before laying across the island to reach into the jar. She swatted at his hand, but he came away from the jar with a pickle, nonetheless.
“You’re going to ruin your dinner!” she jabbed as she resumed chopping. Peter took a big, crunchy bite before leaning forward and grabbing the rest of the jar.
“To be fair, I’m pretty sure I could eat every jar of these pickles and then some and still be hungry enough for dinner. Enhanced metabolism and all,” he had joked. May just set aside the few pickles she had chopped and continued on with cooking.
Peter ended up eating the whole jar, and he could attest to the fact that pickles were one of the few foods his aunt could make well.
They were halfway through dinner, Peter thoroughly enjoying the potato salad when May gasped and buried her face into her hands.
“I’m so dumb! I knew the potato salad was missing something!” Peter looked down where his fork was digging in.
“What’s it missing? It tastes great.” May just gave him a look.
“I chopped up the pickles for it but never put them in.” She went to stand, but Happy grabbed her arm.
“Sit and enjoy your dinner, it tastes just fine without the pickles,” he said, smiling.
“Are you sure? Because it’ll just take a sec- “
“I’m sure. Come on, this is great.” And just like that, it was forgotten.
After dinner, the crew migrated to the living room to watch another movie. Peter had ended up on the corner of the couch, feet tucked under Tony’s legs for warmth as the group watched Good Will Hunting. Peter smacked his lips; his mouth was uncannily dry. He reached down for his water and took a sip. It didn’t help very much, but he really didn’t think anything of it.
As the night progressed, Peter let out a yawn. He moved his mouth around, his face feeling a bit strange. All of the work with Tony had really taken it out of him. By the time the movie was finished Peter was exhausted. His eyelids weighed him down.
“I’m going to head to bed guys,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.
“Spider-baby’s already sleeping? You’re getting old on me Pete,” Tony joked as he put his arm around Pepper.
“Yeah well, during all of our – tests, who’s the one doing all the work?” Tony had just chuckled before saying a goodnight.
Peter brushed his teeth quickly before slipping into his pajamas. His stomach felt a bit tight, and he guessed he must have been much more tired than he had thought. He climbed into his bed with a groan, going to scrunch his eyes closed. His face felt oddly… weak? Like he couldn’t move the muscles like he normally could. But the pull of sleep drowned out any thoughts he may have had about the strange feeling.
*****
Waking up to his spider-sense going haywire was never something Peter enjoyed. He would jerk awake with a gasp, looking around frantically to find the problem. But this time when the creeping sense of danger spiked and Peter woke up, he could hardly move.
God, he felt terrible. His throat and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton, he could barely breathe, and within a second, he realized he was about to throw up. Peter went to turn over and found himself flailing awkwardly. It was as though his arms and legs were weighed down by ten tons. He could hardly get them to move. He grunted, turning himself on his side, and puked off the side of the bed.
“Fri-," his voice cracked like he hadn’t drunk water for a week. “Lights… Tony…” He tried to stand, needed water. He didn’t even make it to a semi-standing position before he ended up on his face – thanking God that he hadn’t fallen in the vomit. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t breathe, and he had no clue what was happening.
The lights flickered on in the room, but it didn’t matter because he was just staring at the wall opposite him, dragging in ragged breaths.
He heard pounding footsteps coming down the hall. Tony. Tony would make this better.
“Peter! Pete!” Someone fell on their knees beside him, and hands were rolling Peter over. He stared up at Mr. Stark’s face. The man looked about three seconds away from passing out himself. “FRIDAY, call Helen. Have her meet me in the Med bay. What’s wrong with him? Is he safe to move?” Peter’s spinning brain couldn’t keep up with everything Tony said.
“Dr. Cho is on her way, I am unable to get a read on the reaction Mr. Parker is having, although it looks to be some kind of poisoning. He is safe to move; I would recommend immediate medical treatment.” By the time FRIDAY was saying ‘treatment’ Tony had already lifted a completely limp Peter into the air. The man grunted at the deadweight but took off down the hall.
“Open the elevator, take us to floor three.”
The events were swirling around Peter. His chest felt like it had when Toomes had dropped the building on him, and he couldn’t move anything. He wanted to throw up, but it seemed as though his stomach was paralyzed as well. He was seeing double Tony’s staring at him.
“You’re alright. Just breathe, okay? Helen’s going to meet us in the Med bay. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.” Tony was staring down at him looking frazzled, his eyes wide with anxiety. Peter wanted to respond, to tell Tony he was sorry for freaking him out so bad, but his vision was getting darker and darker as the cracking wheezes rattled from his throat. He wanted to explain that he had no idea why he was feeling like this, that he hadn’t done anything reckless to get sick. He felt them moving again, then there were new voices.
“Get him on the bed! FRIDAY, run-down on symptoms. Stark, grab the oxygen mask from behind you.” Peter could hear FRIDAY’s voice, but things were making less and less sense. Something was put over his face, a cool rush of oxygen pulsed into his mouth. He would have sighed with relief if he could have. Then a hand was on his eyes, and something so bright was being shone in them. He grunted again.
A hand slipped into Peter’s loose one, and he felt it squeeze.
“Peter, can you squeeze my hand back?” Helen’s voice came from… somewhere. She was asking him to do something. He liked Helen. Wanted to do what she asked – but he couldn’t remember what it was anymore. “Peter can you hear me?” Who was Peter? Why was he hearing someone? He didn’t know.
He got one last glimpse of a worried face – felt a sharp pain in his stomach – inability to move – couldn’t breathe – it was getting dark again.
*****
Peter woke up to a quiet beeping beside his head. The first thing he felt was the oxygen mask over his mouth, pushing cool air into his lungs. He could feel an IV in his arm, and a soft hand in his. He heard quiet sniffles beside him.
With a mammoth effort he peeled his eyes open, looking down to see May, face buried in the mattress with his hand gripped in hers. He could see her shoulders shaking as she cried. Peter licked his lips as he squeezed her hand.
She shot up suddenly, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Hey baby, oh God it’s good to see you awake,” her voice shook as she raked her free hand through his hair. Peter blinked heavily.
“Wh’re y’o cryin’?” he muttered, and he had no clue how she understood him, but she did. “Am I dyin’?”Her face visibly paled at that, and Peter caught movement from a chair behind her. Mr. Stark looked exhausted, his eyes dark and his hair was a mess as he stepped beside May.
“You’re not dying. Well, not anymore. You’ll be fine,” Tony said, his voice firm. “Your aunt took a page out of my ‘self-deprecation’ hand-book,” Tony said, as May flashed him a dirty look.
“Wha’ happened?” he asked, reaching a clumsy hand up to the mask. Tony caught him before he made it and pushed his hand back onto the mattress.
“Let’s leave that there until Helen says otherwise.”
May sniffled and looked down. “I poisoned you. I- the pickles… it was Botulinum poisoning in the pickles. I- I’m so sorry, Peter. I can’t believe – I don’t…” She broke off, looking down as more tears trailed down her face.
“You didn’t mean to. Plus, ‘m fine,” Peter said, but he felt his eyelids growing heavier again, the exhaustion of the … well, he didn’t know how long this whole ordeal had been, but the exhaustion was prevalent anyways. “It’s a good thing you didn’t put them in the potato salad,” he muttered. That would’ve been bad since they didn’t have spider-healing. Peter felt his chest tightening as he thought of May, Happy, Tony, or Pepper having gone through the same thing he had.
“Hey, bud – you alright?” Tony asked, and Peter noticed the heart monitor was steadily increasing its pace as he forced a few deep breaths.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He muttered, noticing how neither adult in the room believed him.
“Yeah, well – it’s hard not to blame yourself when you poison your nephew,” she said. She wouldn’t look at him. He hated that she wouldn’t look at him, so he squeezed her hand harder.
“May, it’s not your fault. Please don’t – don’t feel guilty. It happens,” he had said, stifling a yawn.
“It does not happen, Peter. I’ve never heard of anyone else poisoning their-” He squeezed her hand again.
“Don’t. ‘m fine. Plus, I’m really tired, and I won’t be able to sleep if you’re crying by my bed,” he teased, blinking heavily.
“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” she said, but Peter smiled softly as he heard the guilt leaving her voice.
“Eh, that’s okay.” He closed his eyes, sighing at the feeling of her hands in his hair once more. “Let’s just order takeout from now on.”