#irondadficexchange2019
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Sometimes I Feel Like Iâm Being Pulled In So Many Directions (Irondad Fic Exchange 2019)
Summary:
Peter knows he did poorly on his final, and he feels bad enough. Then May finds out. Peter doesn't know how to handle all the pressure of being a normal high-school teenager on top of trying to balance the responsibility that comes with being spider-man.
Thank fully he has Tony Stark and May Parker to keep him in check- and comfort the stressed teen along the way.
Notes:
Hey guys! Ok, so rant coming:
I poured my heart and soul into the two pics that I did for the Irondad Fic Exchange. I spent so long outlining and writing and re-writing the two works that I signed on for. I tried to craft them for the enjoyment of the two wonderful people that I was writing for. Then someone came onto my last fic and called me "Laughably stupid". I just.. I don't understand pointless hate. I'm all here for constructive criticism. But blatant hate on something that was a gift for someone else is just... not okay. So, if you have anything rude to say, keep it to yourself. All you are doing is discouraging me. It was quite hard for me to build up the courage to post this after that. So, please just be positive.
The prompt I chose from Whimsicalethnographies was "May grounds Peter for something non-Spider-man related and Peter sneaks out to the Tower, cue co-parenting." I hope they enjoy this fic! I loved writing it!
also the title and the line in this fic that follows the name of the title are from the BBC show Merlin, which everyone should watch!
Warnings: Mild Depictions of a Panic Attack (Nothing too serious, but take care of yourselves babes)
Tags:
@irondad-fic-exchange @whimsicalethnographies
Peter had felt sick for the past three hours. He had done really, like really bad on his Chemistry mid-term. He had been handed the results and he felt hot tears pricking in his eyes. Peter had ignored Ned and MJ the rest of the day, hiding behind exhaustion and his hoodie. Peter knew May was going to kill him. Ever since she found out about his extra-curricular activities, she had insisted he could continue as Spiderman as long as his grades and mental health didnât suffer. He had been able to maintain a fairly solid mental health situation, I mean sure, most of the time it came from him just pushing back all of his real feelings. But, up until now his grades hadnât suffered. Peter had been able to do keep up his schoolwork and web-slinging, but last week had been a huge arms bust, and Peter had gotten so carried away that he had completely failed to realize that he had his chemistry midterm coming up. He had thought he could have scraped by with a C, but Peter got the test back with 1 point above an F. He had passed, barely, but his entire grade was going to be trashed.
Peter rushed out of school the second the bell sounded, finding the nearest ally and slipping into his Spidey gear. âGood afternoon, Peter.â Karenâs familiar voice greeted him, and Peter sighed.
âHey Karen.â Peter began swinging his way to the top of the building.
âPeter, you appear to be in distress. Would you like me to call Boss?â
âWhat? No- no, Karen Iâm fine. Just, just mute.â He would deal with this disaster later when he needed to. Peter heard someone yelling in the distance and all thoughts of his stress went away.
Peter moaned deep in his throat as he slipped in through his window. He could smell Mayâs tragic cooking coming from the kitchen as he tapped the spider emblem on his chest. He tossed his backpack onto his bunk and slipped out of the uniform. His right shoulder was killing him, but he knew the strain would be healed in about an hour, so he ignored it as he pulled a Midtown sweater on.
Peter looked down at the test peeking out of his backpack. The infuriating D- making him want to scream. He rolled his eyes and left the room, finding May standing over the stove and stirring burned rice. Peter grimaced as he popped onto the counter, munching on a grape.
âSo, Iâm guessing you want me to order our usual?â May just huffed, turning to Peter and pushing her wide-frame glasses up on her nose. She began sniffing and made a sour face.
âWhat I would rather you do, is shower before you come into my kitchen after spidering around Queens!â She exclaimed, tossing her dish towel at him with a grin on her lips. Peter caught it as he slid from the counter, hands raised in defeat.
âAlright, alright. But I expect Martinâs Thai to be on their way with our order by the time I get out!â He quipped back before slipping back to his shower. The second the door closed behind him; Peter felt a tension release around his shoulder. It had become too normal for him to have painted a mask of being âokayâ. May thought he was handling everything fine, but Peter knew he had just perfected the art of faking it.
The heat of the shower on Peterâs sore muscles had him sighing. It was little moments of peace like this where Peter could catch his breath. It took him longer than normal to finish his shower, and when Peter slipped into his pajamas his stomach growled. Okay, so the single grape he had eaten wasnât enough to curve his hunger. He was really hoping the Martinâs was already here.
Peter ducked out of the bathroom, using his towel to dry out his curls. He passed by his room and tossed his towel without looking in there, on his way to the kitchen, when May cleared her throat. Why is May in my room? Peter turned back around, sliding into his room before his feet froze on sight. May was sat on his bed, Chemistry test in hand, and an unreadable expression on her face.
âHey, May- Uhâ- She held up a hand, mouth in a grim line.
âSave it. Iâm not going to talk about it right now, because I know I would start yelling, and I donât want to have to apologize for that.â She took a deep breath and stood up. âDo your homework, finish all of it. Study for whatever you need to study for, Iâll bring your food when it arrives.â She turned to walk from the room and Peter huffed.
âSo, youâre just going to ignore me, then?â May laughed, in a way that made Peter know that she did not find the situation funny.
âPeter, you hid this from me. You know our deal, and you lied to me. Iâm not ignoring you; Iâm trying to figure out what Iâm supposed to do about this. Iâm still learning how to do this whole parent thing, so a little grace would be very appreciated!â She stated, her hands flying in exasperation. Peter felt his nerves grating against one another, and he should have kept his mouth shut, but he had never been very good at that.
âYouâre right. Youâre not my parent. So, I made a bad grade, alright? So, letâs just forget about it, it wonât happen again.â May was fuming at this point, Peter knew the nonchalance that he had laced into his voice was really driving her crazy, but he couldnât seem to care.
âPeter. Benjamin. Parker. I did not sign on for this. I was thrust into having you. And I would never change that, but I am still learning. I donât have Ben anymore, and he was always so much better at this than I am. I give you more freedom than you know what to do with, and youâre still a kid. I canât expect you to know how to handle yourself. No kid your age should have this much responsibility. For now, no internship, no spider-man.â Her voice was firm and Peter was fuming at this point.
âWell Iâm just sorry that this all got thrown on you! But you canât take away the internship and you canât take away Spiderman! Theyâre all I have!â May recoiled.
âDonât you dare think that I am mad that youâre mine, but you are mine and you will behave! I donât know how long this will last, but you best believe yourself that there will be neither of those things until you get yourself together. And I am here to help and to talk, but you have to take responsibility for your actions.â With that, May strolled from the room, shutting the door behind her and Peter ran his hands through his hair, anxiety crawling up his throat. What- how- what was he going to do if he couldnât be Spiderman?
Call it a lapse of judgement or teenage stupidity, but Peter pulled his mask on, activated his web shooters and peeled the window open. He climbed onto the fire escape and leapt to the building across from his.
âKaren, tell Mr. Stark Iâm going to use the lab tonight.â The AI obliged as Peter began his web-slinging to the tower. The crisp breeze of the night air on his body helping to zone him in, and he imagined all of his stresses being left on the ground behind him.
The tower came into sight and Peter zeroed in on his window. He feet connect with the top panel, and the second the trapdoor closed behind him peter pulled his mask off, leaving him right next to a private elevator in his pajamas. He pressed the call button and waited on the âdingâ that was so familiar to him.
Peter hopped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the lab before he put in his pin. Very few people had access to the lab. Tony, Peter, Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper. That was it. Peter leaned against the glass wall of the elevator, his heart still pounding. The anxiety he had been feeling all day was slowly clawing away at his heart and he felt like he was going to throw up.
Peter made it to the lab, and he sighed, before standing by his table and running a hand through his hair. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, the safe place around him having Peter wiping at the tears.Â
He pulled up the new web formula he had been working on and began to mess with the equations and holographs on it. He let himself get lost to time. Peter was so caught up on working on the tensile strength and the weight of the new formula that he didnât realize Tony was in the room until he heard the man clear his throat.
Peter turned suddenly; eyes wide. âMr. Stark! You have to let me know when youâre behind me!â The boyâs anxiety began to race again. Tony just scoffed, looking at the work on Peterâs table.
âWhat, your Peter Tingle stop working or something?â Peter grumbled out something about how Tony wasnât seen as a threat and to stop calling it his tingle!
âYeah, well- on another note, what are you doing still here at three in the morning?â Peterâs head whipped up, fear clutching his heart. Holy sh- May is going to kill me! âIf you are currently thinking about the wrath of May Parker, then youâre on the right trail. I got the most interesting phone call from her.â Tony said as leaned on the table across from Peter, who suddenly found everything but look at his mentor interesting. âShe calls me, freaking out, before explaining to me that you werenât home, your suit was still on your bed, and that you had been in the middle of a big argument. She tells me she woke up to get water and found your room light still on at 2:30 am and went to check on you. And thatâs how I get a call, waking me out of the little sleep time I do actually get. And May, May tells me the most interesting thing. You arenât supposed to be here. And she wants to know why I allowed you over the tower when youâre royally grounded- which is news to me by the way. So, you have-â Tony looks at his watch. âFive minutes to explain yourself before Happy gets here to take you home.
Peter takes a deep breath, his heart pounding. He turns his face away from Tony, wiping at the tears forming in his eyes. Angry at his emotions for slipping.
âItâs nothing- I just got a bad grade. I shouldnât have snuck out.â He began to pack his stuff up, before standing, but a hand pushed his chest, forcing him back down onto the seat.
âNope. Explain better. Since when do you forget about a midterm?â Tony is concerned, Peter knows that, but he doesnât want to open this can of worms. But Tonyâs eyes donât leave his, and Peter sighs. There is no way out of this.
âI- um- listen last week was just, it had a lot of Spiderman related problems, and I just forgot.â Peter shrugged, looking up. The look in Tonyâs eyes making Peter realize that he wasnât going to worm his way around this one.
âThen we need to cut back your-â
âNo! Why does everyone think the solution to this is to take Spiderman away from me?â Peter finally erupted, standing up hastily. Tony put both of his hands in the air, eyebrows raised at the outburst.
âListen, listen- Iâm not talking about taking him away, Iâm talking about reducing hours.â Peter just shook his head hastily, panic building.
âNo, you canât- you cant!â He gripped his hair between his hands, shaking his head and backing into the wall behind him. Tonyâs face radiated concern, but the monstrous ball of anxiety that had been sitting in Peterâs chest was finally going to claw its way out, and it was going to do it viciously.
âPete, just calm down and letâs talk this out.â Tony moved forward but Peter held out a hand.
âStop, I canât- you guys donât get it!â The teen was screaming at this point, breaths short and he couldnât control anything climbing its way out of his mouth.
âThen explain it to me, alright?â Tony sat on Peterâs work table, leaving the teen against the wall, giving him his required space.
âI just, I canât lose Spiderman, heâs all I have! I do so much, and I work- I work so hard, and college is coming up, and school is hard, and no matter what I do, whenever I turn the corner there is always something else! May needs me, and MJ and Ned, and you, and sometimes, between bad guys, tests, paper, and saving peopleâs lives I feel like Iâm getting pulled in so many different directions that I donât know what way to turn!â Peter was sobbing now, his breaths choking out in harsh gasps as he slid to the ground, shaking hands wrapped around his knees.
âFRIDAY, tell May Iâve got Peter for the night.â Then, there were arms around Peter, warm strong arms and the teens just sobbed harder. âYou hold too much Peter. The weight of the world isnât for you to bear.â And Peter curled up on Tonyâs side, burying his messy face into the manâs shoulder. âAnd, donât get me wrong, youâre definitely still grounded, but neither May or I are ever going to take Spiderman away, but we want to avoid these meltdown things as much as possible, and if you constantly feel this pressure on your shoulders and you never take a moment for you, well itâs going to crush you, Pete. So, let us help.â Peter just cried and gripped onto the man holding him. Tony leaned his head down, placing a kiss on Peterâs head. âLet us help, kid.â
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Tic toc tic toc tic...
Fic written for the Irondad Fic Exchange, for @dontmockmyawkwardness!
Pairing: Gen, Irondad & Ironkids Peter and Morgan | Rating: Gen, Warning: Kidnapping/Abduction scenario
Summary: There's a ticking sound he can't quite place - a constant, tic, toc, tic, tocâŚ
Pain. There's so much pain, and no light apart from the blinding, searing hot flash of white behind his eyelids.Â
Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Uncertainty.Â
-Marie đđŚ
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When I Was Older (Irondad Fic Exchange 2019)
-Summary:
Peter Parker never thought that something like this would be a problem, he always imagined with the spider-bite came a sort of overall health and wellness... well besides being shot at constantly. So when this terrible illness bites down on him suddenly, how will it effect the few days he has left?
or
Peter Parker contracts an illness that he has never heard of then learns that it has no known cure... will he lose his mind before getting the chance to say goodbye to the ones he loves?
Notes:Â
AHH! I am so ecstatic for this!! I worked so hard on this, and I am very very proud of this work and I hope that elevators_not_worthy enjoys this work! I chose her, Author's Choice prompt and came up with this guy! It was a labor of love and I cannot thank @justme--Emily  & @seek-rest enough for taking the time to Beta read this work and help me round it out!
Warnings: This is a very sad fic, but no MCD! It is disorienting and could be upsetting to people. No major panic attacks or anything of the sort, just know that it is a bit intense!
Also, shoutout to @irondad-fic-exchange for helping this writer with the computer parts of posting this (I may be a millennial and I may be on my computer all the time but Im so bad with them)
**Tags: ** @irondad-fic-exchange @unfathomable-universe
Please enjoy!
     Peter smiled at MJ across the lunch table, tossing a potato chip at her. Her hair was loose around her face today, and he thought it made her look exceptional.
âEat your lunch, loser. We only have five minutes before class.â She said, looking back down at her book.
He glanced down at his plate, frowning at the half-eaten sandwich. He hadnât been hungry for several days, heâd still been forcing himself to eat, but it hadnât been much. He had hypothesized that his body was finally watering down the spider biteâs crazy side-affect that had him eating like an elephant every day.
The bell rang and the Ned, Betty, and MJ all headed in different directions. Peter waved them all off and stood up himself. His feet led him down the tiled floors of the cafeteria. He stepped into the hallway, about to head to his class. It was time for⌠Peter stopped, staring at the floor. What class was he going to? He racked his brain, thinking as hard as he could to no avail. He shook his head, remembering that he had read that doorways cause you to lose your train of thought. But it was March of his senior year of high school, he should remember what class came after his lunch period.
      A laugh shook him from his stupor, Olivia Yung grabbed shoved his arm, a smile on her face. âCome on, Parker! Weâre going to be late to Western Civ! You donât even have your notebook, geez! You Americans! Come on, you can borrow a piece of paper and pen from me. We have a quiz on Thursday, you better start taking some good notes!â She tugged him along, and Peter shook his head. Olivia was really nice. She was a genius Foreign exchange student and had quickly joined the Decathlon. MJ and her really got along on account of Olivia was obsessed with politics and her and Michelle could talk about current events for hours.
      Peter sat down in class, a bit shaken from the weird memory lapse thing, but he just pushed it away, and began to take good notes. Mr. Harrington wasnât the best chaperon, but he was pretty good at teaching. So good that Peter struggled to keep up with the points the man was making about the reformation. Peter looked up at the projection and paused. There was a misspelled word on the board. He stopped, furrowing his brows. He looked around, why was no one else noticing this? The word wasnât even a real one, why would Harrington put it up? Peter looked down at his paper, then looked back up. He dropped his pencil while he re-read the sentence. It said, âMartin Luther posted the 95 These on the Wittenberg church.â The word Peter hadnât been able to place was _church. _How the hell had he been so confused about that? Peter shook his head. This was getting a bit too weird for his liking. But he figured he would talk to Mr. Stark about it that afternoon at the internship.
      Peter got in the car with Happy, but the man was on a business call, so he had the partition up. Peter pulled his mask out of his bag and slipped on over his head. âHello, Mr. Parker.â
      âHey, Karen. Weird question for you.â He said.
      âAnything that I can answer I will.â She responded.
      âUm, have I hit my head recently on patrol?â Peter leaned back and waited, already knowing the answer, but needing to double check.
      âI have no record of you hitting your head recently. I am automatically required to alert Mr. Stark of any and all head injuries upon incident. I have not alerted him in exactly three weeks, and last time you hit your head it was nothing but a migraine inducer.â Peter gnawed on his lip, trying to come up with a reason behind the strange things that had gone down earlier in his day.
      âNo reason, K.â And he pulled the mask off. He hadnât gotten much sleep that night, maybe that was it. Peter closed his eyes. With the New York traffic, theyâd be at least another forty-five minutes to the tower. His last thought was _thatâs just enough time to take a nap. _
      It had been three hours that Peter and Tony had been in the lab when Mr. Stark turned to Peter with a look of annoying amusement on his face.
      âKid, youâve been tapping your fingers on the table for the last ten minutes and if you donât stop, Iâm going to absolutely rampage.â Peter looked up, and smirked.
      âYeah, yeah, sorry Mr. Stark.â He stopped his fingers, a bit confused as to how long he had been tapping them anyways. Truth was, Peter could care less about the work in front of him. He and Mr. Stark had been doing updates to FRIDAY, and Peterâs attention span had been waning for the last hour and a half.
      Peter rolled his neck, the muscles in his back stiff as he looked at the clock. He still had three more hours of time in here. Normally it was too short of a time with Tony in Peterâs eyes, but right now, he just wanted to lay down.
      He cried out suddenly, dropping the pen he was holding. âWhat the heck?â He blurted, short gasps of air coming from his mouth as his arm locked up.
      Tony looked over at Peter, concern in his eyes. âWhatâs up kid?â Peter hunched over, laughing through the pain.
      âMy arm is like- ow- spazzing!â He laughed through the pain, it didnât hurt enough for him to scream, it felt like the one time on patrol when he had been shocked with a womanâs stun-gun when she thought he was trying to grab her. It didnât necessarily hurt, just locked his joints up a bit. Tony just rolled his eyes and went back to work.
      Peter spent the night at the tower. It was Friday night, and May was on a weekend shift. Peter would normally either stay with Ned or Tony on these weekends, and Ned had called Peter saying he had come down with a cold. So, Stark tower it was. He sat opposite of Steve and Bucky who were watching the newest Yankees game. Peter felt exhaustion pulling at his eyes, but he forced himself to look back down at the homework he had been working on. Tony was on some conference call that Pepper had forced him to take, and he could hear Clint and Nat in the kitchen arguing about how to properly cook spaghetti while Wanda just laughed.
      The Avengers floor had a large commons area. There was the television, kitchen, dining area and a couple of video games. It was a flat and open space. It had two sides to it. The left side led to the bathrooms, and training area. The right side led to all of the bedrooms. Tony had offered to put Peter on his private floor, but Peter just shook his head. He liked being a part of the team like that.
      As the night wore on Tony and Pepper filled into the commons room. Clint had ruined the Spaghetti, donât even ask Peter how because he didnât know that was possible. So Tony had grumbled and ordered pizza from the nearest store.
      Peter looked at the food on his plate and sighed, his appetite still completely gone. He forced himself to take a couple of bites before he set it down, wincing at the tightness in his jaw. He began to tap his fingers on his leg, there was an itch in the back of his mind like his hand was being forced to move. Peter watched the movie in front of them. Wanda had gotten to choose tonight, and she had wanted to watch Chasing Mavericks. It was a movie Peter had never seen, but so far, he had kind of liked it. It was about this guy that, against the bad hand the world had dealt him, had found a father figure to replace the lack of his own. The older man, Frosty, took Jay under his wing, teaching him how to not only surf some of the largest and most dangerous waves in the world, but also how to be a better man.
      Peter couldnât keep his eyes from flicking over to look at Mr. Stark. The older man had Peterâs feet laid over her legs, an arm around Pepper and a pen twirled in his fingers. As Peter watched the movie, seeing as Frosty lost his wife, and Jay helped him back from his guilt and grief, he felt every emotion that the characters felt. He saw as Frosty watched, heart in his throat, as Jay almost died surfing the mavericks. Then, the pain in Frostyâs eyes when Jay did die, taken too soon by his own drive for greatness.
      The movie ended, and Peter saw Tony, wiping his eyes as he leaned back. Natasha had passed out, sitting with her back up against Buckyâs legs. Bucky and Steve had been squished onto the couch together, looking a bit uncomfortable but relaxed, nonetheless. Clint had fallen asleep with his head on Bruceâs shoulder, who in turn had his chin on Clintâs head. The two would freak when they saw woke up.
      Peter went to sit up and frowned at the tightness in his limbs. He felt like his joints had been bolted together and were unable to bend. Peter cracked his jaw and rolled his shoulder. He was still a bit too emotional from the movie to talk, so he stood up and sighed.
      âSee you tomorrow, kiddo. I was thinking that we could just have a lazy day at home. Watch some movies, fool around in the lab. The works.â Tony said as he helped pull an exhausted looking Pepper to her feet.
      âGreat sounds, Mr. Stark.â Peter turned to go to his room, stopping at Tonyâs chuckle.
      âYeah, you do need to go to bed if youâre talking like that, Pete. Gânight.â Peter didnât know what the older man was talking about, so he just continued walking towards his room.
      And with that, the boy made his way stiffly to his room, fumbling for the king-sized bed and essentially collapsing onto it. School and patrol had really been kicking his butt recently. It had totally zapped his energy, so he was pretty glad to be able to just relax this weekend. Peter closed his eyes, and that was it.
      After the weekend at the tower Peter had finally felt rested. He went to school on Monday happy as could be to be there. Then of course it all went to hell. He had been having a fine weekend. His memory had been a little short, and he kept getting his words mixed up, but Peter had just attributed it to him having been so tired. And, no one had seemed to notice so it wasnât a big deal anyways.
      He was at Decathlon practice when it happened. Peter had been sitting beside Flash and Betty, answering question after question when there was a strange _popping _sensation in the back of his head. Peter sat up a bit straighter, but he just ignored it, waiting for the next question.
      âUh- Peter?â He looked up to where MJ was standing with the flashcards in her hands, a strange expression on her normally straight-laced face.
      Thatâs when he heard the dripping noise and felt liquid on his mouth. Peter put his hand up to his nose and pulled it away. More shocked and annoyed by the sight of the bright red liquid than anything. Thatâs when he noticed that it wasnât just dripping, his nose was pouring blood.
Peter pulled his jacket off, holding it up to his nose as he pushed his seat back clumsily. Â Â
âMr. Parker, do you need to go to the nurse?â Harrington asked in his normally panicked voice.  âNo, I-IâmâŚâ He frowned, completely losing his train of thought as the jacket in his hand kept getting wetter under his nose..  âBathroom, Iâm going to go to the bathroom.â
He pushed past the others, bending his knee in annoyance at the stiffness it held. It made him think of his old bike. The kickstand had been rusted, so he could flip it down easily enough, but whenever he tried to pop it back up it would just stick down, aching and squealing in protest as he forced it upwards.
      Peter walked, albeit gimpily to the bathroom. He opened the door and stepped into the fluorescently lit room.
      And his mind blanked. Why was he in the bathroom? Why was his hand pressed to his face? And why on earth did it feel so sticky? Peter turned to leave, pulling the jacket away from his nose when he stopped. His nose was bleeding? When did his nose start bleeding? It didnât feel like he had gotten punched and he was still at school, so he shouldnât be having any injuries from school.
      Peter grabbed a couple of paper towels and bent over the sink. He closed his eyes, waiting for the bleeding to stop. It just continued gushing, running down the sink. He breathed out, praying it would stop soon.
      âPeter!â Nedâs voice had Peter snapping his head up. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend, his head pounding. When he looked at himself in the mirror he stopped. Under his nose was a smear of dried blood, and there was a deep red mark on his forehead from where he had been leaning against the edge of the sink.
      âWhat, jeez, Ned! Donât scream at me like that, youâre going to give me a heart attack!â
      âDude, youâre Spiderman and me saying your name is going to do you in?â He said in a voice that made Peter pause. Ned had this tone to his voice that he only got when he was freaked out about something.
      âNed!â Peter looked around in wild panic as he dampened some paper towels to wipe the blood from his face. âSomeone is going to hear you!â Ned just looked at him. His friendâs face was completely slack and dumbfounded.
      âPeter⌠itâs been two hours! Tony called me, and I told him you had to have goen home because you never came back to practice! I thought youâd gone home after the whole nosebleed thing. Then- then I just come in here to pee before I go home and youâre just like- dude, you were in some freaky trance! Eyes closed, bent over the sink! Are you okay? Is this, should we like, call Mr. Stark about this?â Ned asked so many questions that he just frowned.
      âNo, no Iâm ok, Ned. I think- I think Iâm just tired. I need to go, ok?â Ned just watched as Peter pushed past him. âIâm fine, really! Iâll see you tomorrow!â He said, bringing his hand up to his jaw as he began to rub it again. God, his bones felt so stiff.
      Peter stepped outside and pulled his phone into his hand. His heart plummeted. Twelve missed texts from Tony! He was so dead!
      Hey kid, you still coming to work on the new update for Karen today?
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Yo- you ignoring your old man now? Iâm completely offended._
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Blink once if you are in trouble. _
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Peter, kid? Youâre friend Ned said you left to go home? Everything peachy clean?_
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Alright, Iâm kind of panicking. Please call me. _
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Now._
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Kid, I mean it. Like NOW!_
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Ok, your phone is saying it has no signal. _
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â So help me GOD if you turned off your tracking again_
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â PETER!_
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Alright, Iâm sending the avengerâs out now. _
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â Call me!_
_ _
_ _
_ Â Â Â Â Â Â _He didnât get service in the bathroom he had been in, and Peter hit the call button. One ring later and Tony was yelling in his ear.
      âMr. Stark.â He winced again, pulling the phone from his ear. Something was wrong. He couldnât think. Peter looked around him and stopped. He was in front of some massive building. He could see a football field and stairs. The building behind him looked somewhat like a prison as Peter turned in a circle. âIâm-â He lost the word for it. âI donât k- I canât think!â He finally forced out of his increasingly uncomfortable mouth, rubbing his jaw once more.
      âOk, your tracking is on now.â Tonyâs voice was deadly serious as he picked up the predicament his kid was in. âYour friend said he found you bent over the bathroom sink, Bucky is closest to you, but Iâm on my way.â
      Peter wanted to speak, but he was hit by a wall of fatigue. He heard someone calling his name, but his phone clattered to the ground as his hand fell limp at his side. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been completely cut.
He swayed. Peter heard yelling, but he couldnât comprehend the words. He was exhausted, feeling as though he had been running for three hours.
He fell. Unable to hold himself up on his shaking knees anymore. Then he felt arms on his,
lowering him to the ground.
      âHey, woah- woah kid. Hang on, Tonyâs almost here. Geez, what did you smoke?â He heard Bucky above him, and Peter could feel as the ex-assassin sat him up, leaning Peter back against his chest to keep him supported.
      âI- Buck- I canât think- I donât. Working, words arenât.â He could feel the man looking at him, but Peter just wanted help. He was so confused, and nothing was making sense. And what was this happening to him?
      He heard the sound of repulsors and felt more hands on him then Tonyâs worry ridden face was in front of him.
      âKid, whatâs going on?â It was then that Peter realized he was crying.
      âI donât- Tony- I canât- I canât- I canât-â The older man held his hand out, eyebrows creased heavily.
      âOkay, alright. Brucy is waiting on us at the tower, and heâs going to get you all figured out. I swear, if you have alcohol in your system, Iâm going to lose it.â Tonyâs voice was deadly serious, but Peter knew he was just teasing to work through the anxiety he was feeling.
      âWhere- where- are? Where am I?â He stuttered out, looking around, his eyes doing everything they could to put two and two together.
      Tony jerked his head to look at Bucky, he was still holding Peterâs limp head up. âDid he hit his head?â
      âNo, I caught him when he fell. I looked, no dilated pupils or bumps on the skull. I have no clue whatâs going on.â He said, concern evident in his voice.
      âKid, weâre at Midtown right now.â Peter blinked. Midtown. That was his school. Terror began to grip at his heart and Peter looked around him. He had walked these sidewalks for years. He had been going to midtown for four years, and now he couldnât even recognize where he was.
      âWhatâs wrong with me?â He whispered. Saying it so quietly that only Tony heard. The man bent down, hands around Peterâs face, looking him dead in the eye.
      âI donât know, buddy. But I am going to figure it out, okay. You just relax. We are going to get everything taken care of.â Peter just stared at him; eyes wide. Tony then stood up, one hand on Peterâs bicep and one on his forearm. Bucky also shifted around, doing the same on Peterâs left side. He was completely limp, muscles absolutely exhausted as he was pulled up. Peterâs legs were completely straight as he stood. Bucky and Tony were the only reason he wasnât falling flat on his face.
      âThink you can walk, Kid?â Bucky asked from next to him. Peter grunted, moving his legs forward carefully. It was like he was being forced to walk through a mud pit, his limbs feeling as though they weighed thousands of pounds. He could see the car pulling up, a worried Steve and Clint watching him from the front seats. They leapt out, opening the door closest to the trio.
      âHey, kid. Youâre looking like you had a bit too much to drink.â Clint quipped as he helped bend Peterâs knees to get him into the seat, but Peter knew he was terrified. The more time you spent with Clint, the more you realized that his humor covered up all other emotions that he felt. Bucky slipped to the other side of the car, helping to pull Peter through.
      He leaned his head back, sinking into the leather seats as Tony and Bucky supported him on both sides, hands hovering as they wondered what to do. Suddenly a sharp pain jabbed into his thigh. Peter cried out, hunching over. Hands were on him immediately, sitting him back as he continued to cry out.
      âWhatâs going on?â Steve asked from the driverâs seat. Tony and Bucky were bracing Peter back, holding him up against the seat as he continued to squirm in pain.
      âI donât know, just get us to Bruce!â Tony kind of yelled, the team just knew that whenever someone Tony loved was in harmâs way, he got like this. Tense, agitated, and quick to snap. But, no one cared. They all knew that it was only because he cared so deeply and couldnât stand to see anyone he loved in pain. Strangled cries came from Peterâs mouth, and a hand quickly cupped the back of his head.
      âKid, we are going to get all of this figured out. Hang on for us, alright? I think youâre having a muscle spasm right now, good oleâ Charly Horse, yeah? No big deal, guys that play football get emâ all the time. They hurt like a bitch, but just try and relax.â Bucky said as Peter just let his head go limp. He was so, so tired, everything around him seeming to sap every ounce of energy he had.
      âThatâs a good idea. Kid, just try and close your eyes and relax, alright?â Peter grunted, whether in agreement or agitation he didnât know. His eyes closed, but his mind stayed awake.
The conversations making less and less sense to him as he drifted somewhere else.
      âI donât know what this is.â A panicked voice started.  âHeâs been acting weird the past couple of weeks, losing his train of thought and stuff but, God, this? He just, he seems completely out of it. He didnât know where we were, and I- God, if I didnât know better it seems like the same thing that happened to my grandmother.â Tony said from beside him. Peter listened, but he didnât hear.
      âLike what?â Steve asked from the front.
      âLike- I hate to say thisâŚâ Tony paused, obviously deep in thought. âItâs like Alzheimerâsâ
      Peter woke up to Bucky and Tony pulling him carefully from the car. Natasha was holding a wheelchair in place, her normally placate face creased with worry at the sight of the teen who could hardly stand on his own. It as something straight from a nightmare.
      âBruce is getting a room prepped for him. He wants to start him on an MRI scan first.â Her flat tone said, but her hand found Peterâs face and she gave him a soft stroke.
      âCan- can you guys, s-s-sâŚ. quit talking about me. Like Iâm not h- like Iâm not here.â Every word felt like a struggle to get out. It was like his tongue had been twisted and tied and his brain was doing flips in his head. Like reaching into a bowl of random words, looking for one specific one. Natasha bends down at this as the men get Peter settled into the wheelchair.
      âKid donât worry. Bruce and Cho are the best out there, you know that. Whatever is going on with you, we will get it figured out.â Peter rarely saw Natasha look anything other than stone-faced, but right now, her eyes had an air of concern and gentleness that soothed his soul. He relaxed as he was wheeled into the tower.
      âHow are you feeling, Pete?â Bruce asked when they made it to the med bay. The man looked concerned, but calm as Peter was helped to sit on the reclined hospital bed.
      âI donât- I canât- itâsâŚâ He stopped, taking a deep breath. He couldnât think. And he was going to go crazy. Before he realized what, he had done, Peterâs phone was laying on the floor, a mirage of broken glass.
      âAlright, alright. Listen, you just relax. We are going to take an MRI, I think itâs possible that you hit your head, and this is just a severe concussion, alright? Iâm going to get this done as quickly as possible, you just relax. If you get uncomfortable or feel off just let me know.â Peter just nodded, his eyes hot with tears, finding Tonyâs as the man stared at him with worry creasing his features.
      âM-m-may?â Peter stuttered out. Tony nodded, understanding completely.
      âYeah, I know. I want to wait and see what Bruce says. Sheâs going to be sleeping right now. Once he lets us know whatâs going on, we will give her a call.â Tony ruffled Peterâs hair as one of the nurseâs brought him a hospital gown.
      âI donât think.â His voice stuttered. âI canât do it a- a- by myself.â Tony, sad eyes and firm lined mouth, nodded.
      âI know. Iâve you kid. Iâve got you.â
      The MRI was torture for Tony. He stood, watching through the one-way glass, his heart in his throat. The kid had exploded, slamming his phone into the wall on the opposite side of the room with enough force for it to completely shatter. Tony and Bruce had held a brief conversation about a sedative, but since Peter had calmed down, theyâd decided to hold off.
      âTony.â Bruceâs voice was low, and he jerked his head to look at the man. Everyone else was somewhere in the tower, awaiting news. He had sent Happy to get May when Bruce relayed the fact that it would be wise. Something as serious as this, it wasnât a physical issue. He hadnât fallen from a building, or been slammed upside the head. This was neurological. And that was scarier than anything else that couldâve happened. Peter was laid out, looking utterly too still as he stared at the white machine above him.
      âBruce.â Tonyâs voice wavered, completely uncertain, and painstakingly terrified. He had risked everything; the team had risked _everything _for that kid. To stop Thanos, to save that boy. That boy who looked completely horrified and unaware of his body. Who was moving like an elderly person, whose brain could hardly place a thought. Tony could not lose him. Tony would _not _lose him. Not now, not ever.
      âI think we need to sit down.â Bruce said gravely. Those were the exact words he had dreaded hearing. Tony just continued to stare at the man. Bruce, who was hiding behind his glasses, his face white as a sheet. And Tony suddenly felt the urge to vomit.
      âTell me.â He said, unable to say anything more without his voice breaking.
      âLetâs si-â
      â_Bruce.â _He said forcibly.
      âItâs, God, Tony it looks likeâŚâ He paused, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He looked
as though he were about to drop to the floor. âIt doesnât make sense, but it looks like- Frontotemporal Dementia.â His voice was a hush, hardly a whisper, but Tony just stared at him like he was a foreign language.
      â_Dementia? _Bruce, he-heâs eighteen. He doesnât have Dementia!â Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands. Because no matter how much he argued the point, it wouldnât matter. Because Bruce wouldnât have said that if it couldnât happen.
      âItâs rare, Tones. But, itâs the only type of Dementia that can affect young people, and⌠Tony I think that the advancement that the spider bite gave him⌠I think that it is working against him and speeding up the process. His symptoms started until last week, and it just doesnât move this fast.â Bruce gestured to the kid. âThis is- itâs moving too fast.â Tony took a deep breath, feeling as though he was underwater.
      âWhatâs going to happen?â His voice was deathly low, but Bruce heard.
      âIt looks to be in a more advanced place. Heâs going to have problems holding things, moving, walking. We need to be careful and watch that he doesnât fall. It will become hard for him to eat, and drink, his muscles essentially will start cramping or seizing up, he wonât be able to move. He⌠itâs not fatal in itself. But, God-â Bruceâs head fell into his hands. âThereâs essentially no way to keep him from getting pneumonia. He will stop being able to move, and when the body lays in one position like that, it just- itâs not good.â And Tony felt like he was dying. Right then and right there. And he grabbed Bruceâs arm, because he couldnât stand up.
      âTony, I need you to breathe.â Bruceâs voice filled his brain as Tony sank against the wall.
      âI canât- Bruce- I canât lose him.â Bruce kneeled in front of Tony.
      âI will figure this out. Be there for him. Donât act like heâs dumb or missing something. Treat him as normally as you can. I want him to stay on the Floor with everyone until⌠as long as he can.â Bruce grimaced as he stood up. âIâm going to give you a minute, and Iâm going to go
talk to Peter. Talk to his aunt. I wonât stop until I can find a way to fix this.â
      There were tears and denial from everyone. Peter didnât understand half of what Bruce told him; he just knew that whatever was going on was bad. It was bad for him, and everyone around him was upset. Bruce promised to not stop trying. Whatever that meant.
      May was there. She was crying and kept holding his head to her chest. Peter was sat on the couch with a blanket up to his chest. Tony was standing in the kitchen, and he had been looking down at the same cup of coffee for the past twenty minutes. Peter blinked heavily, his head dropping towards his chest.
      âWhy donât you take a nap, Pete?â Mayâs voice was soft as she played with his hair. Peter did feel exhausted. He leaned his head against her arm.
      âItâs like-like a âŚâ He couldnât think.
      âItâs okay, just relax right now, baby.â
      âItâs like a storm.â He muttered. May tilted her head, looking at him with tears rimming her eyes.
      âWhat?â His eyes were closed as he released a deep breath. He felt Tonyâs hand on his hair, and he sighed.
      âThis. âs like a storm.â
      It only got worse. Tony had called in every single doctor he could think of. He had called in Cho, Strange, even doctors from Thorâs world. No one could find a cure. Tony was sat with Peter today. May had a double shift at the hospital, and he had Peter duty. The kid was staring at the television. Nothing hurt Tony more than the silence from his kid. Peter had always been the chipper, chatting one. He was the one that was talking when Tony had been anxious or stressed about something. Now, Peter hardly spoke. The dementia was progressing faster than any of them had been ready for. The kid could hardly speak without stuttering. He was constantly confused, and he could hardly eat or drink anything, choking to the point that they had put in a feeding tube and he was now connected to an IV of fluids at all times.
      Tony looked at the kid, biting his lip as he bent his head, doing everything he could to hold back a sob. Peterâs face was void of any emotion as he sat, and Tony couldnât handle it anymore. He needed an ounce of recognition, a hint of a smile.
      âHey, Pete. Do you want to go outside? Iâll take you for a stroll?â Peter made eye contact with Tony before offering a stiff nod. âAlright. Let me grab you a jacket and the wheelchair.â Peter just stared back at the television as Tony pushed himself off the couch. The kid hadnât been able to eat much before the feeding tube, and even with it he was losing weight, which meant he was always freezing. As Tony walked from the hallway with the items, he needed his heart dropped.
      âPete!â He raced forward, the teen lying face down on the ground, trying and failing to push himself up, the IV had been ripped from his arm. Tony grabbed him and got him in a sitting position. âAre you hurt?â The boy just stared at him; no recognition is his eyes. Tony felt his blood running cold. âPeter, are you hurt?â He pronounced each word very bluntly, but the boy shook his head, his body shaking slightly.
      âNeedâd you.â He forced out from his locked jaw. Tony grinned, knowing it didnât reach his eyes.
      âThatâs okay, kiddo. Iâve got you.â He managed to get Peter into the wheelchair, tucking the sweatshirt he grabbed, which just so happened to be his MIT one, over the boyâs head before slipping the IV back into the teenâs arm. He decided to tuck a blanket around the kid as well, making sure he stayed warm.
      It was dark out, and the lights of the city blinked at the two of them. Peterâs favorite spot was on the roof, looking over New York. They hadnât talked about spider-man since Peter got sick, but he knew the kid missed it drastically, could see it in the boyâs face.
      âMâ scared.â Tony looked down, seeing tears in the kidâs eyes. He knelt next to him, touching the boyâs face gently.
      âItâs going to be okay, Pete.â Heart being torn from his chest.
      âMiss it.â A tear dropped down his cheek and Tonyâs thumb caught it.
      âI know. I know you do.â He needed a cure, God let Bruce find a cure.
      âMâ lost, Tâny.â And that did it. It was a sledgehammer straight to his heart. Tonyâs calloused hands cupped the teens face, and his distant eyes focused in.
      âYouâre not lost. It just feels like you are. Bruce isnât- we arenât going to let you go somewhere that we canât follow.â Each word dripped with emotion. Peter nodded. He was more coherent right now than he had been in the past several days, and Tony was soaking it all in. He pulled the kid from the chair, sitting both of them on a couch that he had set up outside, just for these moments. He grabbed a blanket and pulled a hat on Peterâs head for him. The two sat, listening to the soft music that FRIDAY had turned on, and for a second- one split second- everything was normal.
      Then Peter coughed.
      Ton sat at the table of the commons room, staring at his food and trying to force himself to eat. May was with Peter and Cho, working on finding a way to bring his fever down. Letâs just say, when Peter got sick, he got sick violently. He was coughing up a lung and you could read the discomfort in every labored breath he took. What had the medical team so worried, was the levels of his fever. The kid was racked with chills, and his fever was verging on 104, and Tony ached to see the kidâs hazy eyes.
      He felt a presence behind him and looked up. Helen stood, looking exhausted as she watched him.
      âHow is he?â Tony knew, but he still dreamed that he would ask that question and it would be, _Heâs healed, Tony! _And he would never have to let the kid get out of his sight again.
      âNot good.â Cho sat, sipping the tea that she held. âI donât know how much longer he has, to be honest with you.â Tony felt his entire chest darken, running a hand over his mouth.
      âHow did this happen? No one in his family showed signs of it, Helen! I looked into his familyâs medical records; they show nothing like this! Not a single one of them had anything close to dementia or Alzheimerâs, and Iâm just supposed to expect that this is completely random?â He dropped his face into his hands.
      âI wasnât going to tell you this, because nothing came of it.â Cho looked down. âWhen Peter first came in and we took his blood, there were⌠abnormalities in it. A strange chemical mixture that I couldnât quite make out.â Tony sat up straighter. âI still have the sample, and Iâve been looking into it, but nothing has come of it. If it were-â She stopped herself looking down, and a burning anger filled his chest.
      âIf it were what?â She bit her lip.
      âIt was foul play,â and his breath was torn away from him. âthen it wouldnât matter right now, because I havenât been able to curate a way to stop this anyways, and Iâve been trying. I had Natasha looking back to see if Peter ever got hit with any kind of dart or injected with anything, sheâs been looking since he came in last week but nothingâs come up.â Tonyâs hands were shaking as he watched her. âI- the pain heâs in⌠I need to start him on Morphine.â Tony felt his chest tightening.
      âMorphine is a death sentence.â He choked out, unable to breath.
      âIt- it doesnât look good. Heâs in pain right now. His body is shutting down and heâs sick. Iâll give you until the end of the day, but Tony- I wonât let him suffer any longer than that.â She said firmly, as Tony stared at the wall in front of him.
      âI will fund whatever you need. I will get you every scientist in the world. Get my boy back.â He stood, completely abandoning the food on the table.
      âWhere are you going?â
      âIâve got a very unlucky person out there waiting for me to hunt them down. Someone did this to my kid, I just know it. I have to find them. I have to do something.â
      He took Clint, Natasha, and Bucky with him. He needed to be sure that he had a team of people willing to do whatever it took to get this son of a bitch. Tony had scoured every ounce of footage from Peterâs suit, and he had found it. There was a man that Peter had fought, of course he had won, but the man had gotten a small cut onto Peter. Of course, the kid hadnât thought anything of it, but as Tony had FRIDAY read into who the man was, he found out that he was a scientist from OSCorp, and there was no way that he was completely innocent.
      They had found his home and waited until nighttime. When they ambushed, it had only taken Natasha three and a half minutes to get the cure from him. Tony had already called SHIELD. Whenever the psycho, who said he wanted to see how Peterâs Spider DNA reacted to the Dementia, got out of the hospital, he would be in prison for a very very long time.
      Tony raced back to the tower, stopping in his tracks when he heard May weeping. _Iâm too late. _He thought to himself. Peter was dying a terrible, painful death, and he was too late. Bruce came sprinting around the corner, his face pale and sweating.
      âPlease tell me he-â
      âNot yet, but God- I would never give him something like this without testing it, but we donât have time. I just pray that it kick starts his healing factor, because. Well, Iâm not going to lie to you, without it he doesnât have long. His fever is too high and with the way his muscles are shutting down, heâs losing his ability to clear his airway by coughing. Helenâs going to administer Morphine in twenty minutes if this does nothing.â Tony gave the man the vial and followed as they raced to the room, ignoring the growing shaking of his hands.
      May was weeping, Her face laying in Peterâs hand on the bed. The ventilator hissed as it did everything it could to do the job his lungs couldnât. His face was ghastly pale, the bags under his eyes dark enough to look racoon-ish. He looked so thin, and weak. Tony hated it. He hated every second of seeing his kid look like this. Â
      âOkay, Peter. If you can hear me, we have something to give you.â Helen said from where she entered the room behind Tony. May looked up, tear stained eyes that held a haunted hope. Because if this didnât work- they knew the outcome.
      Helen prepped the needle and walked to the port in his left arm. She bent her head down, saying a quick prayer. Tony did the same. She inserted the honey-looking liquid in. And they waited. Nothing happened.
      The respirator hissed. The pulse ox beeped, dangerously low, and the heart monitor seemed to be counting down the seconds. Everything seemed to slow down drastically, as Tony rubbed his hand over the boyâs forehead, hand gripping his kidâs tightly.
      Then doe brown eyes slipped open. And they held more recognition and love in them than Tony had seen in weeks. And he thought his knees would buckle.
      Tony gripped the boyâs hand, staying out of Cho and Bruceâs way. They began examining him, giving him his pain medications that would work now that his metabolism was working again. The boy may at least be awake, but he was still sick. His metabolism working the way it was, had him beginning to fight the ventilator that he was on, and Tony put a placating hand on his shoulder, steadying the kid best he could. âWeâve got you Pete, weâve got you.â He said over and over as the boy squeezed his hand, brown eyes blown wide. He knew this would be terrifying. He knew Peter would have a long road of recovering ahead of him, but they could do this.  Â
      By the time Cho and Bruce left, Peter was falling back asleep with exhaustion. The respirator would stay in until his lungs cleared, which, with his healing rates, shouldnât take longer than a couple of days.
      May had stepped out to go shower when the boy fell back asleep, Tony having promised to stay with him. He had pulled a chair closer to the teenâs bed, tucking a blanket into his lap as he waited for the boy to wake up.
      âI missed you, kiddo. God, I was terrified.â He whispered as he sat, running his fingers through the boyâs hair. He hadnât expected the kid to wake up with the amount of drugs he was on, but he felt the hand tightening around his own.
      Soft brown eyes forced themselves open, and Peter was looking at him, trust filling his eyes, and Tony knew he would never again take him for granted. âHey kid.â Peterâs hand tightened on Tonyâs. The man leaned forward, shushing Peter gently as he blinked. âJust rest, Pete. Iâll be here when you wake up. Iâll be here for the rest of your life. Whenever you need me.â Peter had tears in his eyes, and Tony just hushed him once more, running his thumb across the boyâs cheek. âYouâre not lost anymore, Pete. We found you.â He closed his eyes as Tony continued playing with his hair. âWe found you.â
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Hey guys, donât forget to check out my new work! I put so much work into it and I was very proud of how it turned out! Iâd love to hear some feedback on it!
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