(Fever) - I Can’t Sweat It Out
It had been four months. Too long. Too short. It felt like a second and five years at the same time. It was December now. Peter had just gotten done with finals, somehow. He felt as if he’d been wading through syrup trying his best to get to just move into the next day without drowning. He had gone to Columbia, unable to make himself leave the city. It was all he had left of her. Their experiences. Being able to see the coffee shops she loved and remember the places she hated. It was one of the few things he was able to hold on to. Tony had tried to tell Peter that he had to move on, but truth is, he didn’t want to.
Peter needed to be able to visit her grave. He had to be able to put flowers down, to tell her about his week. Ned used to go with him, but it was too much. And, his friend had gotten into MIT. He had been unsure, not wanting to leave Peter in such an unstable manner, but Tony and May had assured him that they’d take care of the spider-ling.
He had yet to go out as Spider-man again. He could feel the grievance of the city alongside him. Crime rates had begun to climb, and people were losing hope. Yet, every time Peter reached for the red and blue suit, he ended up hunched over in a panic attack unable to think.
Peter took a deep breath through his mouth as he blew into the tissue in his hand. Even spider-boys could catch colds apparently. He was on his way home to meet May so they could head up to the lake house. She had decided that it would be best for Peter to not be in the city during the holidays. Tony had already extended an invite to them for Christmas, so they’d accepted. The only demand that Peter held was that he be able to go to visit MJ once a week. With some reluctance, the others had agreed.
Peter walked up the stairs from the subway, his backpack slung over his shoulder. His head felt like cotton balls had been violently stuffed into it, but he just ignored the feeling.
It was one of those bad days. The days that his entire body held no energy. Where every little thing reminded him of golden-brown eyes and the perfect days that he had left behind. He felt a weight on his back, pulling him further and further to the ground. As if he could sink through the concrete and no one would notice.
He turned the last corner to his street, and he could see May finishing putting the bags in the car with Happy. Peter took a deep breath, wincing at the sharp stab of pain behind his eyes. Everything was too bright, and he was so cold. He felt like the temperature had gone down ten degrees in the time it had taken him to walk from the subway to the apartment.
Peter saw Happy waving at him, and he nodded at the man. Then the door to the Audi was pulled open. Peter was a bit surprised to see Morgan Stark come bursting from the back seat of the car. “Petey!” Her six-year-old voice called as she sprinted toward him. It drew a smile from him, as he picked up the younger girl.
“What are you doing here, missy?” He asked, tucking her against his side.
“I wanted to come with Hap to pick you and Aunt May up!” She squealed as he tickled her side. Peter gave May a kiss on the cheek.
“Oh, it’s good to have my boy back.” She said, frowning inwardly as she kissed him on the cheek. “Peter, are you feeling alright? You feel warm.” May pressed the back of her hand to his forehead as Morgan wiggled from his grip and began to climb back into the vehicle.
“I haven’t felt that well. I think I’m just tired, you know?” Peter said, as he pulled his backpack from his shoulder.
May nodded. “Well, all we have planned for the rest of today is to sit around a log cabin and sleep, so let’s get going.” Happy took the bag from Peter, patting him on the back carefully. Peter hated how everyone tip-toed around him. His past four months had been filled with people hugging him and trying their best to not crack him. He hated it. But he hated more so how he knew that if people didn’t do it, he would fall apart.
Peter slid into the back seat with Morgan. She sat in the middle seat, pressed right up against his side. Happy was in front of him, and Peter felt his heart pang at the sight of his and May’s hands intertwined. For a split second he felt the ghost of hers. The way her hands were so soft, as she would run her thumb over the back of his hand. How he used to pick up her hand and kiss the back of it, then she’d smack his arm and tell him he was gross, but she would never pull away when he went to do it.
“Petey!” He turned his head as Morgan was staring at him expectantly. “Look.” She said, and he glanced down. Morgan had been doodling in her journal, and she was waiting for confirmation that Peter loved it. He glanced at it for two seconds before tears were filling his eyes.
It was a picture of him, sitting on the couch in the Stark’s home, a sad look on his face. Then, Morgan, Tony, Pepper, Happy, and May were sat around him, either hugging him, running their hands in his hair, or just laying a hand on his shoulder. “This is for you, Petey. It’s you being sad…” She paused, her young brain contemplating how to be gentle while not yet understanding the idea of being subtle. “But our family telling you that it’s okay.” Peter didn’t even try to stop the tears that began to pour from his eyes. In his subconscious, Peter knew May and Happy were being quiet, trying to see how he would respond. Peter leaned down, kissing the top of Morgan’s head and letting it rest there.
“I love it, Mo.” He whispered. Letting himself close his eyes and be sad. He had tried for so long to hold his emotions in. To keep from crying or grieving in his families present, but he was done with that. He was safe, and he could let himself cry with them.
“You can keep it.” She said quietly.
Peter felt a hand rest on his knees, as he opened his eyes to find May staring at him with a sad comfort. He nodded once. And she turned back around, reaching to dial the radio up.
And in one instant, Peter’s Christmas was flipped upside down. He felt the sharp spike of his spider-sense shoot up his neck. Peter wrapped his arms around Morgan, yelling, “HAPPY,”
Then he felt the crash. The girl pressed to his side screaming, metal crunching, glass shattering. A vehicle hit straight into the back left of the car. Peter could feel as the metal warped around his body, and the car spun around. Then his head made contact with something solid and everything blacked out.