You'll never make it like that (too bad) - Chapter 1
Peter's sensory issues applied to what he ate as well, to the point where it affected his day to day life. This is 5 times Peter's selective eating fucked him over + 1 time he knew how to handle it.
(To clarify - Peter's issues with food are related to his sensory issues, so he's selective based on textures, color, size, taste, smell and other aspects of food.)
Read on ao3
1
When Peter turned 8, he had a small, science-themed party at home. Ben and May made the most of what they had for the decoration, with a table full of test tubes filled with candy and beakers as jars of juice. They all wore lab coats made by May, and Ben provided some pairs of safety goggles to complete the costumes.
The next thing they had to decide on was the cake. May had absolutely no skills in the kitchen, and although Ben could cook delicious meals, he had no experience with baking and he wasn’t about to risk testing it on his nephew’s birthday. So a store bought cake was the best option, they concluded. It would be a very small party - only the 3 of them, Ned and his parents, plus a couple neighbors -, so a simple grocery store sheet cake would be enough and fit right in their budget.
Peter was very specific with what he ate. He’d always order the same things from the same places, rarely willing to try something new. When it came to cakes, he liked chocolate, carrot or plain vanilla. He couldn’t stand marble cake - the mix of both colors bothered him. With that in mind, plus a list of the grocery stores Peter liked best, the couple was prepared for their last task. While May took the boy to the library, Ben would go to the places in the list in search for the perfect cake for their kid. Ben managed to get a plain chocolate cake from Peter’s favorite store, and although there was a sticker announcing it was a “new, improved recipe”, he thought nothing of it - how much could a simple chocolate sheet cake change?
The party went well - although there weren’t many people, Peter had fun. He and Ned were excited as ever with the decoration, and both squealed happily when Ben gifted the birthday boy a chemistry kit for children. Then, it was time for the cake and Peter had a smile from ear to ear.
Once they sang happy birthday and the cake was served, guests and hosts alike sat down, talking quietly as they ate the dessert. May frowned as she noticed Peter stopped eating, staring at the cake slice on his plate almost as if he was offended by it, his mouth obviously still full. When she noticed his complexion turning green, she cursed under her breath and rushed to him just as he started gagging.
Ben soon understood what was happening, quickly calling Ned over and keeping the conversation with his neighbors going to spare Peter the unnecessary attention as May coaxed him into spitting the mouthful of cake into a napkin and took him to the bathroom to rinse his mouth. But Ben’s efforts weren’t enough, as the others soon turned their heads to see the commotion when Peter began crying loudly.
“No no no no no” he sobbed, voice getting louder and louder with each word, “Bad cake.”
As May tried her best to calm him down, Ben took care of the guests, who looked incredulously at him.
“He’s throwing a tantrum because he didn’t like the cake?” asked Mrs. Thomas, one of their neighbors. “Isn’t he a bit too old for that?”
“It’s been a long day for him,” the man said, “you know how they can get cranky.”
The truth was, Ben was still trying to understand Peter and some of his mannerisms. He was sure most of it stemmed from the trauma of having lost his parents at such a young age, and he and May were working on taking him to a child psychologist once again.
The party quickly came to an end, with Ben trying his best to defend Peter from the guests’ judgment. Ned’s family were the last people to leave, kindly reassuring Ben after his many apologies.
As it turned out, the “new, improved recipe” the grocery store had come up with for the chocolate cake included rice krispies in the filling to add a crunchy texture to it. A texture, as May and Ben would later learn, Peter was not expecting to be on a cake. With time, all three of them learned to accommodate the boy’s needs better.
You maybe wanna share some of em baby? (This is from the poem thing btw)
alright babes, if you asked so nicely you shall receive :>>
(full thing under the cut cuz it's a bit longer)
19. “me too” (26.02.24)
Hands around you
You’re not slipping
Ghostly fingertips hold you in place
And it’s enough
The stillness.
It moves you
Current like fuzzy liquid
And it’s warm and it feels soft
It’s so soft it’s almost intangible.
It grounds you.
All it took was a “me too”
All you needed was an “I get it”
And it’s ironic how fast you lose your composure
It’s almost damming
How you let go of all your safeguards
How protection is not needed anymore.
Find comfort in pathetic vulnerability
Laughing your tears away ‘cause it’s been this simple all along
Sit still and breathe
Right now you’re battle is not fought alone.
And you’re not floating away
But you feel lighter
And stillness hasn’t felt more comfortable
But you are craving movement.
You are craving action.
Smiling like an idiot
Because you can’t help it
And maybe you’re completely alone in your space
But those hands are still holding you
From their own aloneness.
It’s a feeling of relief
A state of easiness
A little moment of respite during the struggle
But your whole reality feels bright with color.
The quiet and an embrace
And a grieving soul finding rest.
(this is ab that feeling of recognition, when two people find out they have the same struggle and embrace each other as they are, not trying to solve or change anything, a "looser baby" moment if you will)
Summary: You've been married to Aleksander for a while, and you both are very happy. But when Alina enters the picture, things change. He wants to show you that he is yours and no one else's just like he promised.
Word Count: 2,136 words
Tags: @rachlovesactors @eginv-blog @my-day6
Warning: NSFW, minors DNI, mentions of past violence, smut, jealous/semi-rough sex, some derogatory names during sex, minor language use
------
It had finally happened. The Sun Summoner had finally been found after centuries. And on a skiff through the fold, no less. Your husband had ridden off to see the new skiff, and he told you immediately when Alina Starkov revealed her gifts later that day. His plan could finally be set in motion.
~~~
"No."
"Y/N-"
"No, Sasha. I don't want to see you flirt with her." You crossed your arms.
Aleksander put his hands on your upper arms, coaxing you. When you wouldn't meet his gaze, he lifted your chin with a gentle finger.
"It would only be an illusion, milaya. Nothing more. A way to get her on our side quicker. You know that she means nothing to me. Not compared to you, my darling."
As much as you didn't like it, his logic made sense. You huffed, and uncrossed your arms. Your husband gave you a small smile, and pulled you to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you put yours around his neck.
"As long as you promise to come back to me at the end of the day. We have come so far, Sasha, I'd hate to lose you now."
"My love, there is no place I'd rather be than with you."
And as he dipped his head to kiss you, you were reminded of the promises you made all those years ago when you were married. At the creation of the Fold, when he thought you were going to die. How similar they were to those made just now.
~~~
A few weeks later, the plan was fully in motion. Make Alina feel important not only to the cause but to Aleksander. He doted on her like he said he would, and every time it made your stomach turn. You couldn't help but see red, disliking her more and more as time went on. To make matters worse, she was showing no signs of progress, which means your husband's ruse would stay longer than planned.
You didn't like the whispers that followed. The ones that pitied you, for having a husband with wandering eyes. The others that said it was your fault, and you must not be a good enough wife for their General. It made your blood boil that your people's opinions could change so quickly about you and that they dared to say it behind your back.
You tried to take it all in stride, but after a while it became too much. Aleksander tried not to be affectionate with Alina when he knew you were watching, but that didn't mean you didn't see it. The brushing hands, gentle kisses, whispers and smiles shared in a seemingly private moment. You knew that this was all part of the plan, that he had to romance her. But that didn't mean you had to like it.
One day, your frustrations with it all came out. Unfortunately for you, they emerged at Alina. She was training with Botkin, and you were walking the grounds watching the progress of the new recruits. When you noticed her standing there preparing to fight, you stood and watched. She wasn't doing particularly well, her only strength was her endurance. The fight finished, Alina losing once more. When she noticed you watching her, her eyes went wide. You tried not to smirk, relishing in the fact that you would have that over her.
"Wait. I want to go again."
Botkin agreed, asking who she would like to go against.
"Her," she pointed at you.
The crowd of onlookers parted, to see what you would say. Thankfully, you were saved. Botkin spoke up first.
"The general's wife does not train with us. She and the general have their own time to spar against each other."
This time you did smirk a little, but only when Alina could see. You see, everyone thought you were this sweet little thing, but you and your husband knew better. The dark streak in you liked to show itself every once in a while, choosing now to make its move.
"She just won't fight me because she's scared she'll lose."
Everyone gasped, and now you know that you have to say something to shut her up. You quirked an eyebrow and began to speak.
"The sun may be brighter than the moon, but it can still be eclipsed by it. Don't forget that, Miss Starkov."
You turned and walked away, the tail of your black kefta swirling behind you. You made your way to the war room, knowing that you were to meet Aleksander there soon.
~~~
Aleksander found you in the war room sitting on a dark throne made for you, staring off into the distance. He made his way over to you, sitting beside you with an arm around your waist.
"What are you thinking about?"
You turned your head to face him, a small smile spreading across your lips. "The day we got married. I was just thinking of how much we went through to get there. The running and hiding... the creation of the Fold..."
Your smile had faded, turning more gloomy. You met your husband's eyes and saw the same reflection mirrored back at you. Neither of you would ever be able to forget when the Fold was created.
The two of you had managed to run and hide in the woods, living in an abandoned cottage deep inside. You hadn't planned on the Druskelle finding you, though. They almost had him captured, but found you as well. They bound you and beat you badly enough that you had long since passed out, all with Aleksander watching. You were close to death, and he had no plans on losing you. Letting his powers and emotions loose, the darkness swept around you for miles and miles.
When he was finally able to reach you, he pulled you close to his chest. "Come on, milaya, wake up. Don't leave me like this." The tears were free flowing now, and in this moment he promised that if you both made it through this you would be married on the spot. He carried you to the nearest human healer, where they patched you up. You woke up days later, to see your lover holding your hand looking half dead. When he saw you were awake, he threw himself into your chest, wrapping his arms around you. You were quick to return the embrace, seeing that he needed it more than you did. He lifted his head and pulled you into a kiss. It was needy, all of his worry from the past few days and his love for you being poured out.
A month later you had a small ceremony, just the two of you. You knew that it was almost time for you to hide and keep quiet until it was safe to reappear as new people. But this time it would be as man and wife.
Aleksander cupped your cheek with his hand, and you leaned into his touch. "My love, there is nothing on this earth that would take me from you. I would die before being separated from you."
"But you'd allow yourself to seduce another woman," you said petulantly.
Your husband sighed, knowing that you weren't going to let this go any time soon. He stood up, pulling you up with him by the wrist. You collided into his chest, forced to tilt your head up to look at him. He grabbed you by the back of your neck, kissing you roughly. You gasped, and he used that chance to shove his tongue in your mouth. The two of you only pulled away when you could no longer breathe, and you knew that your lips would be swollen for sure.
"You stupid little thing, believing the lie that I created. Are you really that dumb to think that I would ever love someone else as much as you?"
You went quiet, never seeing this side of him before.
"Well? Answer me."
"No, Sasha." Your voice was quiet, your gaze cast down toward the floor.
Aleksander grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze back to his. "What was that?"
"Sorry... sir."
"That's better. Now," he stepped back from you, checking to see if you'll give him the safe word. When you didn't, he continued. "Strip for me."
You slowly peeled off your kefta, watching it form a black and white pool at your feet. Next were your boots, kicking them off to the side. Your white blouse was soon to follow, and your black slacks. Now you were standing before him in just your underwear. You spared a glance at him, and you were pleased to see his eyes darkened with lust, darker than you thought possible. And it didn't take much to see that the tent in his trousers told you he was enjoying the show.
As soon as you had removed the rest of your clothes, he pounced on you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his hands on your hips. He lifted you with ease, and placed you on the table. Aleksander pulled you closer so that your pussy was on full display for him. He swiped a finger along your slit, gathering some of the wetness that had collected there.
He stuck his finger in his mouth, groaning at the taste. "So wet for me, and I haven't even done anything yet. Such a good girl, waiting for my cock."
"Please, sir, I need your cock. I want you to fill me up."
Your husband chuckled darkly, and reached for his belt buckle. He undid it with a quick motion. "Anything my darling wife wants, she'll get."
He quickly shucked off his kefta and shoved down his pants, his cock springing to attention. Your eyes flicked to it and you swallowed, knowing the pleasure you had coming. Aleksander chuckled again at your reaction, pulling you in for another kiss. Your hands grabbed at his hair, fingers trailing through his dark locks.
One of his hands moved from your cheek to your breast, kneading it earnestly. You moaned at the contact, breaking the kiss to dip your head back. Aleksander pressed kisses on your neck, sucking hickies as he went. He stopped at the top of your breasts, looking at you before taking the one he wasn't massaging in his mouth. He flicked his tongue on your sensitive nipple, leaving you both reeling at the feeling. He switched sides, giving the other breast attention until you pulled him off.
In a moment of dominance, you reached for his hips, pulling them towards your now dripping pussy. He smirked, knowing what you wanted. He lined himself up with you, and thrust in. He only waited a moment before moving, setting a furious pace. His arms were now wrapped around your back, keeping you chest to chest.
"Saints, Y/N... you feel so good. Such a good girl for taking my cock so well."
"Fuck, Sasha, I'm so close."
You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten, signaling the release soon approaching you. Your husband's hips stuttered, letting you know that his was close too.
"Cum for me, milaya. I want to feel you."
Moments later, your orgasm washed over you. You were overcome with feelings of bliss, already semi cock-drunk. Aleksander thrust into you a few more times before he came, painting your walls with his cum. You both were out of breath, panting to try and get oxygen in your system. Your lover pulled out of you, hugging you close.
"Now do you see what I mean? I will love you forever, you are the moon that lights up my night sky."
"And Alina?"
"Like I told you when the plan first begun. She is nothing but a means to an end. Once I have the stag there will be no use for her. You," he cupped your cheeks. "Are everything to me. Without you I would be lost. I love you, Y/N, more than anything."
You smiled, pulling him into a sweet kiss. When you pulled away, you put your hands behind his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.
"I'm sorry I doubted you, Sasha. I love you so much, and I hated to see you with someone else. I know we need it for the plan to work, so I'll keep quiet for now. We've come too far to see all our hard work go to waste."
"I'm sorry that I gave you any reason to doubt my love for you. I promise when this is all over it will be just us. Finally safe, at last."
Your husband buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving light kisses. You knew it would be some time before things were right again, but for now, you'd take whatever moments you could get.
------
Author's Notes: So, I watched Shadow and Bone again. This came to me while I was watching, so I just had to write it down. The reader is an implied moon!summoner. I should say that there is no Alina hate or Jessie hate here. I just needed her to be the scapegoat for the purposes of the fic. There are no bad feelings or intentions toward her in any way. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed it and if so please reblog and maybe leave a comment. If you want to be tagged in future works, message me or leave a comment and I'll add you. Requests are open, so send some in now that I have more free time. I love y'all! - Butterfly
It sounds silly but what makes me happiest is the sun. I like the heat, the warmth spreading along my skin, there’s something almost soft about it; but in a different way to the heat provided by a winter fire or cosy blanket. Whilst they provide me with a sense of comfort, the sun is energizing, casting its shine across everything beneath and bringing it all to life. It fills me with hope, this sense that I can do anything and that the world is this incredible place brimming with possibilities.
Everything is prettier when it’s bathed in the golden glow of the sun. Flowers seem even more vibrant, the streets of my town are beautiful pieces of history to walk along, the light washing away the grime I know exists. Even I feel like I could be beautiful when the sun is touching me, as though my skin will drink in the light and illuminate me from the inside out. Like my pale skin will become golden in the brief moments the rays dance across it.
Everyone seems happier in the sunshine. As though it has the magic to draw a smile from anyone; bringing them out of their homes and away from hectic schedules to congregate. People come together in parks, beer gardens, anywhere and everywhere to enjoy themselves. All because of one incredible fiery star hanging over us during the day.
So yeah. The sun makes me happy.
A/N: I don’t think this was a Drabble but I tried really hard and I’m sorry. @drabble-nonny-100-challenge @lady-kato
Who turned the temperature hotter? ('Cause I'm burnin' up)
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Peter being asleep when he’d usually go on patrol was odd enough, but his shivering form was what really made her concerned. He didn’t even stir as she felt for his temperature, and she couldn’t help but wince in sympathy at his warm skin.
Or in which sickness and sensory issues don't mix.
Peter felt like shit. It started with a headache around the second period, so mild he couldn’t pinpoint it at first, but then it progressed throughout the day. Navigating the school hallways got harder and harder as the hours went by, his tired limbs protesting every move. Looking in the bathroom mirror after having splashed some water on his face, Peter noticed he - thankfully - didn’t look that bad, only a bit paler than usual. Still, his friends noticed something was up, if their worried glances were anything to go by.
At lunch, he laid his head on his arms, relieved by the cold surface of the cafeteria table.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” asked Ned.
Peter only grunted in response, not even looking up at the boy.
“Seriously, I’m taking you to the nurse” said MJ, “This has been going on for too long now.”
“‘M fine, just a headache” the boy retorted, trying to dodge her hand reaching for his face.
“And a fever” she retorted after feeling his temperature.
And she was right, but that didn’t stop Peter from being stubborn enough to endure the rest of the school day. It was a Monday, for Thor’s sake, he wasn’t about to start his week by missing chemistry class. His fever didn’t quite agree with his decision, though, as it only got worse. By the time he got home, all he could do was curl up on the couch and sleep.
That’s how May found him hours later, coming back from her shift at the hospital. Peter being asleep when he’d usually go on patrol was odd enough, but his shivering form was what really made her concerned. He didn’t even stir as she felt for his temperature, and she couldn’t help but wince in sympathy at his warm skin.
She gathered everything she needed before gently squeezing the boy’s shoulder.
“Peter, baby,” she said quietly, “can you wake up for me?”
Peter groaned but complied, opening his eyes and looking at his aunt in confusion as he took in her concerned gaze.
“May?”
“Hi, honey. You have a fever. Can you sit up for me?” she asked, motioning for the medication on the coffee table.
The boy complied, but she couldn’t help but notice how he could barely hold himself upright, leaning heavily on the cushions. She handed him the medication created for his metabolism and he took it with no complaints, desperate to get rid of whatever was causing him to feel this bad.
The thing is, for Peter, getting sick was more than feeling icky and under the weather. Each symptom could easily trigger his sensory issues, not to mention how frustrating it was to not fully be able to determine what exactly were those symptoms.
So for the next couple of hours, Peter whined in distress about the feeling of his feverish sweat all over him. And by the pont his stomach could no longer hold onto the crackers he had finally been able to eat at May’s insistence, a meltdown was inevitable. A very slow, agonizingly lethargic and painful meltdown. May tried her best to calm him down, but his high fever wasn’t helping with his ability to process her words, so all she could do was let him ride it out, and feel her heart break in the process.
He curled up on his bed under his weighted blanket, one hand by his mouth as he bit his knuckles - May had tried to get him to use one of his chewables, but Peter only gagged at the texture.
With a sigh, frustrated that the medication clearly wasn’t working, May pulled out her phone.
Peter arrived at the Tower’s medbay with a 103 degree fever, an empty stomach and an aching body. After the doctors got him set up with an IV line and a quiet room, Tony finally got in.
“Hey buddy” he said quietly, closing the door behind him as he entered the room. “Not feeling too hot, huh?”
“I’m getting sick of this,” he deadpanned. “Pun intended.”
Tony snorted, sitting next to the hospital bed.
“The doctors got you some nice medication, it will help soon,” he reassured the boy and himself. “Do you need anything?”
“I need to not feel gross and sticky anymore” was Peter’s response, and Tony could see he was fighting the urge to scratch at his arms, which were already littered with scratch marks from minutes before.
“I’m sorry, underoos. Wish I could help with that.”
He could see the energy draining out of the kid, so he attempted to reassure him and lighten up the mood.
“Well, you heard the doc, though. Soon we’ll have the test results. Once we figure out what’s going on, we can make you feel better in no time” he assured. “In the meantime, we can watch any Star Wars movie you want to. I’ll grab the remote.”
“Great, ‘cause the force is definitely not with me at the moment.”
And it wasn’t, indeed. Halfway through the movie, Peter had his second meltdown of the day, just as sluggish as the last one.
Tony cleaned the boy’s sweat with a smooth and cold cloth, knowing that the sensation of sweat all over his body was one of the aggravators of Peter’s current state. It wasn’t an easy task, though, as Peter’s head kept going back and forth to slam into the thin mattress, pillow already forgotten on the floor where it had fallen minutes before. Tony winced in sympathy.
He didn’t even know how the kid had the energy to do that, as all his movements have been slow, his body having no strength to spare. His eyes were glazed over in a feverish haze and all he could do was whine and grunt to express his frustration.
“You gotta keep that there, buddy,” Tony said patiently, prying the boy’s hand away from the IV still in his arm, providing him with much needed fever reducers. He worried about how sluggish the kid’s movements were, though, as it had taken him about 5 attempts to finally reach the offending object.
Peter cried in frustration, moving his other arm so he could bite down into his fingers, head still banging onto the mattress below him.
“Stop stop stop, make it stop” he sobbed weakly, and Tony’s heart sank.
“I wish I could, kiddo” he lamented, “just a few more minutes and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”
“No more minutes, I can't,” the boy hiccuped.
Despite his pleas, it took 10 more minutes until Peter’s body finally lost all its energy, and he fell asleep with tear tracks still on his face. It only took 5 minutes after that for the doctors to come back with answers.
“I’m afraid so,” confirmed the tall brunette doctor. “We found traces of ethyl chloride in Mr. Parker’s system, along with other common components of pesticides. My team did some research and we got the information that his school has used such products over the weekend, and Mr. Parker must have had a reaction to its remnants, as his system is very sensitive to it.”
Tony and May looked at each other, not sure how to react. She was the first to break the silence, turning to the doctor once again.
“So what is our next step?”
“Well, from the latest exam, it seems that Peter’s metabolism and his healing abilities have already taken care of the substance itself, but it took a strain on his body. The fever and vomiting were probably caused by his body trying to expel whatever was affecting him, so what’s left for us to do now is treat those symptoms. We’re keeping him on fluids and fever reducers still, as well as medication for his stomach. The ideal is that he’s able to eat tonight, or we’ll have to take some more drastic measures due to his fast metabolism.”
The lack of food and dehydration were indeed big concerns, Tony knew that. The boy was already so weak he could barely sit up on his own, and he’s seen firsthand what a couple days with not enough food did to his metabolism.
The doctor reassured them that, despite the concerns about his food intake, Peter was on the track to a speedy recovery. Tony and May thanked her, finally exhaling in relief as they at last knew what was wrong.
May returned to Peter’s room where he was still deeply asleep after his meltdown, and Tony decided to make himself useful by cooking him some soup, a recipe his mother used to make when he was ill.
The kid did manage to eat about five spoonfuls of the broth before pushing the bowl in Tony’s hands away from him, turning his head the other way.
“You have to eat, kiddo.”
“No more” he cried weakly in response, hands shaking, “please.”
“Okay, we can try again later” Tony gave in.
‘Later’ turned out to be early afternoon of the next day, as Peter slept all throughout the night. It was a relief, as he didn’t have to go through any more meltdowns during that time. Overnight, his fever finally broke, and May was quick to help clean the sweat it caused, hoping to avoid any more distress for her nephew.
The doctors kept him in observation for the day, only letting him go upstairs to the living room once he had managed to eat half a bowl of soup. Their orders were that he get more rest and drink water to avoid getting dehydrated once again.
Ned and MJ visited him after school, and although Peter was quiet and would doze off from time to time mid-conversation, they stayed with him until he actually fell asleep.
May sipped on her tea in the corner of the room as she watched the two teens whisper their goodbyes to their sleeping friend. Between them, herself, and the man currently asleep on the smaller couch while holding a 3D model of an ethyl chloride molecule he was converting into a stim toy, Peter had a good support system. They would be okay.
To say that Peter was stressed was an understatement. There was a big AcaDec competition coming up and he did not feel ready at all. Ned and MJ both tried to reassure him, but it only eased his anxiety for a moment, before the feeling was back, making his stomach churn uncomfortably all week.
So he practiced all day, every day, barely able to sleep. He even dreamed of it one night, for Thor’s sake. The sleep deprivation, combined with the increased intake in caffeine made him even more anxious. By Thursday, he was a shaky mess, and it was closely noticeable, judging by the concerned looks he got from his friends all day. Even Happy eyed him suspiciously from the rear view mirror on the way to the Tower - Peter had almost forgotten it was a lab day.
Rocking side to side, one hand tapping repeatedly on his thigh as the other held onto his flashcards tightly so he could read despite the movement of the elevator, Peter didn’t even notice he was on the floor of Tony’s lab until he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up from the paper in his hand.
“Oh hey, Mr. Stark.”
Tony eyed him up and down, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows close together.
“You okay, kid?”
“Peachy,” Peter said, forcing a toothy smile.
“Hmm” was all he got in return.
If Tony noticed he was lying, he didn’t mention it. They soon got to work, Peter nervously moving his leg up and down the whole time, fingers tapping on the workbench in an unsteady rhythm. In between tasks, he would try and recite the information he had memorized for the competition for practice, cursing under his breath whenever he messed anything up.
“Peter?” Tony called.
“Hm?”
“Are you sure you’re okay, bud? I’ve been calling you for a while.”
“Right, I’m sorry!” the boy shook his head to try and concentrate, “Wha- What do you need, Mr. Stark?”
The man rolled his eyes, gently pushing Peter by the shoulders back into the chair.
“What I need is for you to stop hiding things from me. What is it? Head injury? Stepped on lego again? Out with it.”
Peter swatted his inspecting hand away.
“I’m not hiding an injury, Mr. Stark. Promise.”
“What is it, then? Is it that girlfriend of yours?”
“Her name is MJ and you know it,” Peter rolled his eyes, then sighed as he saw Tony’s unimpressed expression. He knew he couldn't stall anymore. “I’m just a bit nervous about a competition that’s coming up. Haven’t been able to practice much.”
Okay, so that was a half-lie. He had been practicing almost 24/7, but it didn’t feel like much.
“Why don’t we practice here, together?” Tony offered.
So that’s what they did. Tony would ask the questions from Peter’s flashcards and help him remember some of it.
It wasn’t going very well, though, as Peter kept forgetting or mixing up some of the answers. His hand that wasn’t flapping nervously by his side came up to rub at his chest, where there was an uncomfortable feeling. It kept intensifying as the questions went on, until he could barely breathe or hide it anymore..
“Come on, Pete, you know this one. We talked about it last week, remember?” Tony coaxed him patiently.
“It’s, uh” Peter tried, but he couldn’t concentrate anymore. He frowned, rubbing his chest harder as he felt it get tighter.
“Peter?” he heard his mentor call, but it sounded distant. That was weird, wasn’t Tony next to him just now?
His breaths started coming in gasps as his chest got too tight. He blinked a few times, in a futile attempt to clear his head. Suddenly, he felt something cold under him. Oh, he was on the floor. When did he get there? Peter could hear his own wheezing breaths now, and his head felt too fuzzy for him to make out anything else.
A warm hand against his caught his attention, though only partially, as he was still drowning in the sound of his ragged breathing.
“Can you feel that?” a voice asked, breaking through the fog, “Try to match my breathing.”
His hand was now against another surface, which went up and down slowly. That felt so peaceful. He tried copying it, maybe then he could feel more peaceful too. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he wanted to give up, but something stopped him from moving his hand.
“Yes, you can do it,” the voice was back, even more gentle than before. “In, and out.”
He did his best to concentrate on the voice and the sensation on his hand. After what felt like hours, he could finally breathe again, and his heart didn’t feel like it was trying to escape anymore.
“There you go,” he heard again. Was that Tony? “Can you try to open your eyes now?”
So that’s why it was so dark. Peter squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly, trying to feel them again, then opened them slowly. The lights were dim, comfortably so. He was sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall, and sitting right in front of him was Tony, who looked concerned.
“Hey buddy,” the man said, “good job. Just keep taking deep breaths.”
His mentor was holding one of Peter’s hands against his own chest, taking exaggerated breaths for him to copy. After a few more minutes, Peter was no longer shaking and his breathing was finally back to normal. He tried rocking back and forth, but the panic attack had drained all of his energy, it seemed, because his body just sagged against Tony. The man held him tight and started rocking both of them instead, knowing the motion was comforting to Peter.
It didn’t take long for Peter to fall asleep like that, and Tony carried him to the couch once he was certain the boy wouldn’t wake up.
Later that evening, Tony called May to let her know what had happened, and they both worked together to create a healthy study schedule for the upcoming competition - with no caffeine involved this time.
