Too Much
Peter was having a bad day. Upon waking up, he’d already felt the beginnings of a headache forming. He’d taken an aspirin with some water before leaving for school and thrown the bottle in his backpack, knowing it wouldn’t help anyway. A downfall of his enhanced metabolism.
The rising sun seemed brighter than usual as he walked to school. The sounds of the city were loud and he brushed it off as today being busy. His shirt felt too tight. Maybe it had shrunk in the dryer? Oh well. It’s not like he didn’t have dozens of other t-shirts with science puns, no big deal.
As he approached the school, the voices of students grated on his ears. Almost wincing, he weaved through the crowd to walk inside and meet Ned. Inside, it was even worse. The slamming of lockers made his head pound as the ache intensified. He tried to block it out as he made his way towards his own locker.
He began pulling out the books he’d need for the day when Ned showed up at the locker next to him.
“Hey man, are you alright? You look like you’re in pain,” Ned stated, noticing the expression on his friend’s face.
“Yeah, fine.” Peter began nodding, stopping when his head throbbed. “Just got a headache, it’ll go away soon.”
Ned accepted the answer and began talking about a new Lego set he’d gotten. Peter didn’t pay much attention, choosing to focus on blocking out the other noises around him instead.
The first half of his day wasn’t horrible. The fluorescent lights irritated him and his teachers’ voices were too loud, but he tried to block it out, resting his head on the table in all of his classes. When lunch came around, he told Ned that he was going to sit in the library for some quiet and that he’d see him in class.
Walking into the library, he headed straight for the back of the large room. He sat in one of the chairs and closed his eyes, grateful for the silence. The only noises that could be heard were pages turning and keyboards clicking, which was a dozen times better than the cafeteria would be. Here, he didn’t have to listen to Flash throwing insults at him, students shouting for their friends, or the screeching of chairs and tables against the floor.
Of course, it all went downhill from there. The bell rang for students to go to class, which brought back the pounding in his head that had been reduced to a slight throb. He nearly groaned at the pain as he stood up. The bell was loud on its own, but it was almost ridiculous how loud it was with his enhanced senses. Did the bell really have to be so loud? He was sure they’d still hear it if it was a little quieter.
Walking through the hallways made him feel nauseous. Kids crowded around him, shouting and shoving their friends, laughing loudly and making his headache intensify. He tried to get to his next class as quick as he possibly could. Not that he would even pay attention in class, but at least it would be a bit quieter than the halls.
He was lucky that his next teacher didn’t care what students did, but he realized just how unlucky he actually was when class began. Shop class was always loud. Students worked on their projects in the small workshop, making his ears ring as they slammed down their hammers. The whirring of the electric saws sounded like screeching in his ears. He saw his teacher reading a magazine, ignoring the class except for the occasional shout about saw safety. Fumbling a bit, Peter grabbed the bottle of aspirin out of his book bag. He shook 2 out before swallowing them, and tossed the small bottle back into his bag. He pushed the tools and equipment away from where he sat and put his head down on the table. He could see Ned watching him as he quietly worked on his project, but Peter didn’t say anything. He threw an arm over his face in an attempt to block out all the input he was receiving.
He sat like that the whole class. It seemed like it got louder every second, even with the aspirin he had taken at the beginning of class. His body burned straight through it and he couldn’t be bothered to take another pill when he knew it wouldn’t help his pounding head. When he risked a glance at the clock, he saw Ned staring at him again.
“Peter, you don’t look so good.” Ned said, looking worried. “Do you want to go to the nurse? Last time it got this bad, Tony picked you up.” He wasn’t sure if Ned whispered to accommodate his headache or so people wouldn’t hear him talking about Tony, but Peter was grateful anyway. Tony had adopted him a few months ago, and they hadn’t made it public information, trying not make a big deal out of it. Peter was fine with that, not wanting any attention attracted to himself, especially with being Spider-Man and all.
He told Ned that no, he didn’t need Tony to pick him up, ignoring the displeased face Ned made at his answer. He’d only needed to be picked up once because of his sensory overload. Ned had helped him get to the nurses’ office so he could wait for Tony. To say the nurses were shocked when Tony Stark ran into their office was an understatement.
He almost went back on his decision to not call Tony when he stood up, feeling dizzy but managing not to wobble. Class was close to ending, only about 2 minutes before the bell would ring, so everyone was packing up and cleaning their stations off. But he wouldn’t go to the nurse. He wasn’t going to make Tony pick him up when he only had one class left to suffer through.
When the bell rang, the sound seemed to stay in Peter’s head. He let Ned guide him to their next class, trying to block everything out that was going on around him. His head felt heavy, and was filled with harsh noise that made him wince. The t-shirt he wore felt too tight, and he ignored the urge to tug at it. Students chattered around him, occasionally bumping into him as he tried to just make it to class. His head hurt so much.
Peter and Ned made it into class less than a minute before the bell rang. As they walked towards their seats at the back of the room, Peter wondered how he was going to make it through this class, seeing how terrible he was feeling. However, as the door to the classroom closed with a heavy slam, and that godforsaken school bell rang again, Peter got the answer to what he’d been wondering.
He would not make it through this class.
Pain exploded in Peter’s head and he stumbled backwards, bumping against the wall before sinking down to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling in on himself as he tried to block out the pain and noise that assaulted his senses. He could hear people in the room moving around and shouting, making the pain in his head worsen. He couldn’t make out what the voices around him said, only able to clearly hear some of the words. He heard the words “nurse”, “no” and “quiet”. Peter could hear footsteps come towards him, then the words “don’t touch”, and the footsteps retreated back towards the direction they came from. He thought he heard someone say his Dad’s name too, probably Ned. Someone was on the phone, and he could hear them talking but made no effort to listen, trying not to hear everything around him.
Peter wasn’t sure how much time passed while he sat on the floor, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, his head shooting up to see who it was, which he instantly regretted. The movement exaggerated the pounding in his head and the fluorescent lighting that poured from the ceiling blinded him as his eyes shot open. He was able to make out Ned kneeling in front of him, holding something... holding a phone. His friend’s mouth moved as he spoke, but he couldn’t make out the words, too busy trying not to pass out in front of his peers.
He pushed himself into the corner, putting his head on his knees and trying to ignore the fact that he could hear his classmates’ heartbeats, their breathing, the scuffling of their shoes as the shuffled around, unsure of what to do. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the light that hurt his head and eyes, feeling a few tears leak out. He just wanted this day to end, he wanted the pain to stop and he wanted to go home-
His thoughts stopped as he heard the classroom door open, and rushed, but quiet, footsteps approaching him. He figured it was the nurse and felt a hand gently tap his shoulder. He raised his head slightly, opening his eyes just barely, not wanting to be blinded like he had been earlier.
He let out a small huff of relief when he saw his Dad, not the nurse, kneeling next to him on the tile floor. He looked concerned, his hand raised just above Peter’s shoulder, not wanting to touch him unless Peter said it was alright. The teen slightly leaned forward into Tony’s hand, shutting his eyes again and not caring if his classmates were watching or not. He felt the hand card through his hair for a moment before moving to his shoulder and staying there. Peter took this as his cue to crack his eyes open again, although with more difficulty this time.
“Hey kiddo,” his Dad whispered once he could see the teens eyes. “We’re gonna go home now, alright? I know you feel really bad, but you probably want to get out of here without being carried, right?” Peter nodded his head sluggishly, and began to stand up.
Tony threw Peter’s book bag over his left shoulder while Peter leaned on his right. He used his arm to hold his son upright as they walked out of the classroom, Peter only stumbling a few times. Once they walked out of the room and shut the door, Tony slipped the other strap of the bag on and opened his arms, letting Peter decide whether he wanted to walk the rest of the way or be carried. The teen didn’t hesitate to fall forward, fatigue weighing on him heavily. Tony lifted the small boy with ease, quickly carrying him out to the car. Peter had begun to fall asleep when he heard the car door open and was placed on the smooth leather of the front seat. He buckled himself in, kicking off his shoes and pulling his legs close to himself on the seat.
Tony slipped into the front seat, setting Peter’s bag on the floor of the car and reaching into the back to grab something. He turned back around, an MIT sweatshirt in his hand that he held out. Peter took the sweatshirt gratefully, quickly swapping his too-tight shirt for the softer, larger sweatshirt. He pressed his face into the cool leather of the seat as his Dad started the car, comforted by the scent of expensive cologne and motor oil.
Peter began drifting off on the drive back to the tower. He could hear the car humming as they drove, feeling relieved that the noise didn’t hurt his ears. The pounding headache he’d suffered through all day was now a dull throb. He was nearly asleep when they arrived at home. Peter pressed his face into his Dad’s collarbone as he was lifted out of the car and carried to the elevator. Once the elevator reached their floor, Tony set Peter gently on the couch before promptly wandering off. Confused, Peter blearily opened his eyes, looking around in the dim lighting of the living room to see where his Dad went.
He could see Tony in the kitchen. He continued to watch for a minute before his eyes began to slip shut again. They didn’t stay closed for long, however, as he felt a hand carding through his hair. He looked up at his Dad, who was holding a peanut butter sandwich.
“Hey spider baby,” Tony said, smoothing the hair back from Peter’s forehead. “I know you’re tired but you’ve gotta eat something. Ned told me you hid out at the library instead of eating lunch.”
“M’kay,” Peter mumbled as he accepted the sandwich. He sat up on the couch, making room for Tony to sit beside him. His Dad moved into the space, wrapping a soft blanket around their shoulders as Peter leaned against him. Tony watched as his son ate the sandwich, waiting until he was done to speak.
“Why didn’t you call me, kid?” Tony asked, rubbing the teenager’s shoulder. “I could have picked you up. Or you could have gone to the nurse, at least.” He cast a sad glance down as Peter rested his head next to the arc reactor in Tony’s chest, face faintly lit with blue.
“S’rry Dad,” Peter fumbled with the words. “I didn’t want to bother you when I was gonna get home soon anyway. Thought I could deal with it.”
Tony pressed his face into his son’s soft curls, saddened by the words that came out of his mouth.
“Peter.” Tony said, holding the teenager by the shoulders so they could maintain eye contact. “You wouldn’t have bothered me. I don’t care if there’s 5 hours or 5 minutes left of school. If you ever feel that bad again, call me. Please.” His voice was sad and Peter could tell he was worried. Peter felt guilty.
“Sorry,” he said again, tears shining in his large brown eyes, glinting in the dim lighting.
“Don’t be sorry,” Tony said, pulling the teen back into his chest and wrapping his arms around him. “Don’t be sorry. Just call me next time. I don’t want you to feel bad, okay? I don’t want you suffering the whole day when you could have been here. Promise me that if it gets bad again you’ll call me, or at least send me a text.”
“I promise,” Peter said into Tony’s chest. “Can I sleep? I’m tired.” His eyes were already slipping shut as he asked the question.
“Of course you can kiddie. I love you,” Tony said as he adjusted them to be more comfortable.
“I love you too,” Peter slurred with his last bit of consciousness, wrapping his arms around his Dad’s torso and drifting off to sleep.