The first time May noticed his restless legs was when she and Ben first took him in. The two of them chalked it up to him being anxious and young, having just lost his parents. She thought nothing of it for a few years.
When Peter turned eight, his legs shook the table his birthday cake sat on, nearly extinguishing the flames on the candles. Ben placed his hand upon Peter’s knee, ultimately stilling his movements. He leaned close and whispered, “Make a wish, Pete,”. Peter closed his eyes and blew with all of his eight year old might, getting all of the candles in one go. A bright light flashed in front of his closed eyes.
“What’d you wish for, baby?” May asked, placing the camera that had just flashed in Peter’s face on the table. She was grinning.
“I can’t tell you that! It won’t come true then!” The boy giggled, bouncing as he thought of his wish.
He wished to be like Iron Man.
Only one year later after making that wish, Peter stood in the middle of the Stark Expo, newly nine years old. It was arguably the best birthday gift he’d ever received.
He bounced on his heels the entire night, his legs nearly vibrating in excitement.
When chaos broke out, he lost his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He panicked deep inside, but simply put on his Iron Man mask and tried to find an exit. He found an exit, but he also found trouble.
In front of him stood a machine, something he couldn’t quite place, and he bounced on his heels in fear. I can be like Iron Man, he thought, putting up a brave face as he lifted his arm.
Suddenly the machine was gone, and he turned around in surprise to find Iron Man behind him, a voice coming from inside the suit. “Nice work, kid,” Peter knew that voice like the back of his own hand.
He’d done that. He’d saved himself, and Iron Man complimented him. He sprinted to find his aunt and uncle, unable to still his shaky legs. Peter Parker had saved the day, just like Iron Man.
When Peter is fifteen, he’s recruited by Tony Stark himself. At fifteen, Peter Parker is Spider-man. He’s a hero, just like he’d wished to be when he was eight, and just like he was when he was nine. Of course, now he knows he wasn’t the hero of the Stark Expo, but the nine year old inside him begs to differ.
Tony Stark asks him to suit up and head to Germany to fight Captain America. Peter says yes, because he can’t really say no to his childhood hero, can he? He thinks it’s some sort of unspoken rule: if Tony Stark asks you to fight Captain America in Germany, you fight Captain America in Germany.
So he does. He gets into a car with a man named Happy, who really isn’t all that happy. He tells him to quiet down, to stop shaking his legs so much, and even shuts the window between them. Despite his best efforts, Peter can’t sit still.
There’s an itch deep inside him, whether it be nerves or excitement, and he just has to move. He stills for a movement, then starts shaking his legs back and forth, much quieter than before. Happy doesn’t say anything, so he assumes he’s fine.
Peter does his best to sit still while on the airplane. His mouth talks a mile a minute, but he fights the uncomfortable feeling inside telling him to move his body. He bounces his legs when Happy falls asleep.
The second Happy wakes up, he stops, pretending to look out the window.
Peter Parker hates sitting still.
-
Peter receives radio silence from Tony Stark for months after Germany. He thought he fought pretty well, minus Captain America dropping a boarding ramp on top of him. He contacts Happy daily, and he even tries contacting Tony directly. He gets nothing back from either of them. At one point, he even debates emailing Pepper Potts, but decides against it.
Every day, he’d sit in class with his legs bouncing under his desk. He’d accidentally shake the lunch table, making Michelle glare and Ned kick him under the table, and he’d stop. Peter was already full of nerves, but the radio silence from Iron Man only made it worse. He moved his legs away from Ned and waited for Michelle to stop glaring before he started tapping his feet, making sure to not shake the table.
He’d lay in bed at night shaking his legs, unable to sleep. He’d listen to the sounds of the city around him and wait until sunrise.
Peter always felt the need to move, but the world was still.
May noticed his restless legs again when he was fifteen. Peter hadn’t been sleeping, he’d eat breakfast while pacing around their small kitchen, and he’d even do his homework while walking back and forth.
So she talked to him.
He’d told her it was nerves, she told him it was more than that.
“I’ve just been stressed, ya know? With- with the S.I. internship and homework and decathlon,” he rambled, wringing his hands out.
“If you say so, Pete,” May smiled, and patted his knee, the same way Ben used to. Peter’s heart ached for a moment. “Just make sure you’re getting some sleep, alright? I can’t have you moving around all day when you’re not sleeping,”
“Of course, May, I will,” Peter promised, leaning into her as she kissed the top of his head. He slept for the first time in weeks.
When Tony Stark finally broke his silence and contacted Peter again, he couldn’t stop moving.
Tony asked him to come to his lab to see the upgrades he’d been working on, and Peter complied.
The unspoken rule still stood: if Tony Stark asks you to go to his lab, you go to his lab.
While he was there, Tony asked him a multitude of questions.
“How are you so sticky?”
“A what gave you your powers?”
“Stop moving your legs, will you?”
So on and so forth.
Tony Stark asked him to quit moving, so Peter said “Sorry, Mister Stark!” and tried his very best to keep still.
He could not keep still for more than five minutes.
Peter stood from his chair and began working while standing up, writing out formulas for longer lasting webs while bouncing up and down on his tip toes.
Tony asked him to stop once again, and he blushed with embarrassment.
“Sorry, Mister Stark. Restless legs, ya know?”
“Yeah, sure, kid,”
Peter bowed his head and got back to work.
Tony Stark did not know.
No one did.
He was okay with that. He would keep on moving while the world sat still, and everything would be fine.
(Everything was, in fact, not fine.
But that’s fine, isn’t it?)