Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter is a teenage boy. Peter has a metabolism that's somehow been messed up by the spider bite. Peter is living in a household that very much has a budget, and Peter is very much aware of that budget and of how much food costs.

Naturally, he solves this problem by- and this is, he sincerely thinks, the best solution- not eating as much as he maybe should!

It's simple, it's quick, and it's cheap!

(He'd add to the infomercial-like sentence by saying that it's easy, but it's really, really not.)

The only problem is, he feels tired most of the time. And also hungry. So, so hungry. His stomach feels like it's caving in maybe ninety percent of the time.

But. That's not important. What's important is the fact that they've managed to survive one more month on Aunt May's nurse's salary, the fact that they've been able to keep the heat on and the water running.

May looks at him sometimes, and asks if he's getting enough to eat. If he's getting enough sleep. If he's okay.

("You just look so thin and tired all the time, Peter. I'm worried about you. Are you sure you don't need more food?")

Peter denies it. May knows about him, about Spider-man now, but she doesn't know that something happened to his metabolism. Peter wants to keep it that way.

So he lies. He feels horrible about it, of course, but he's pretty sure he's going to feel a lot worse if he adds more stress to Aunt May's already-heavy load. She's got enough to worry about right now.

He does too, what with school and extracurriculars and being Spider-man, so he just... pushes it down and ignores it when his stomach starts complaining and he can't quite focus all the way on the things around him.

(It's probably not a big deal.)

(Until it is.)

Peter's out on patrol when it happens, because of course he is. He can't be in his room, or at school, or even in Mr. Stark's lab, because he'd even take being embarrassed in front of Mr. Stark instead of this.

This being almost collapsing in front of half of New York as he takes on the animal-themed villain of the week. It's some guy in a huge rhino suit, which, really? Isn't the best fashion choice? Like, at all?

Peter's given up on figuring out why the supervillains he always fights seem to come out of some kids show. Honestly, it just kind of fits into the enormous mess that's his life at this point.

But. Sidetracked. Rhino-Man. Right.

He's doing what he does, slinging webs and making quips and he's actually doing kind of well- kind of well, as in, "hasn't gotten hit more than four times."

Which is, of course, the reason everything goes to sh- to crap.

(In the back of his mind, he can't shake the feeling that May will somehow know if he curses. It makes him flush when the people he fights asks if he's twelve, but he really doesn't want to risk Aunt May's wrath.)

He swings towards Rhino, fully intent on ducking under that punch that's aimed for his stomach- his stomach, which is currently in the caving-in mode that it occupies almost constantly now, but his reflexes are a bit slow, and the punch, which was supposed to go right by his side, plants itself right where it was aimed- namely, his stomach.

(The thought flashes through his mind that this is perhaps due to the fact that he's having trouble focusing on the fight and reacting quickly to his spidey-sense because of the almost overwhelming need for hunger.)

Peter loses his grip on his web and crashes to the ground, struggling to regain air. His spidey sense starts buzzing in his head, which kind of adds to the haze that threatens to swallow him whole.

He staggers to his feet before he can dwell on how much that hurt, because he knows if he stays down he's as good as dead.

Plus, there's, like, five thousand people here in Times Square, and he'd much rather have Rhino do- well, whatever it is he's planning to do- to him than literally anyone in the crowd.

(He's always been like that, he thinks, in the split second before he dives back into the fight. Whether it's bullies or people looking for someone to shoot or supervillains in weird costumes trying to carry out evil plans, he always has and always will prefer that he's the one getting hurt, that he's the one taking the beating.)

He stares Rhino down and shoots a web at the man- or, rather, he tries to. His web fluid has apparently run out. He glances down out his webshooter, cursing his luck, because, really? This had to happen right now?

Then his spidey sense goes crazier than it already is and he glances back up just in time to see Rhino's fist coming at his face.

The next thing he knows, he's on his back, his face feeling like it's about to split in half, with Rhino pummeling him.

Peter's barely able to get his arms up to shield his face. Rhino speaks for one of the first times during this entire fight, his voice just this side of incredulous. "How much can you take, kid?"

Peter brings his feet up- he's not actually sure how he manages it, but he's not going to question it at this point- and shove Rhino away just enough so that he can scrabble away from the older man.

His mind is kind of hazy right now, with the two most prominent thoughts being gotta get away and gotta protect the civilians.

(These thoughts don't really agree, so he picks the most important one and shoves the other back in his mind. Taking care of the civilians will always, always win out over his own personal safety.)

There's a groan from the crowd when Peter can't get away fast enough, when his hand skids over loose rubble and sends him crashing down on his side, and Peter can't help but wonder why the police haven't evacuated yet.

And then-

And then Rhino's got his ankle, and he's pulling him back, and all Peter can think is pain pain pain.

(But he's keeping Rhino distracted, and he knows, he knows, that the moment the man gets bored, he's going to turn to the civilians.

Peter cannot let that happen.)

He lets himself get pulled back as he scrabbles at the tiny pocket he's got in his suit where he keeps his extra web fluid.

He manages to pull a canister out and as he's about to install it, Rhino yanks him up in the air so that he's dangling by his ankle, which is still being held- painfully- by Rhino.

Then Rhino sucker punches him in the stomach. Peter tries to yell in pain, but all that comes out is a strangled yelp. The vial of web fluid clatters to the ground, forgotten, and he reflexively curls up around his stomach, but then Rhino slams him into the ground and the gravel bites into his skin, even through the costume, and there's just so much pain.

Dimly, he's aware of the same thing happening again, over and over and over.

Karen, who has been speaking only when absolutely necessary, goes silent, and Peter suddenly really wishes he had told her to call Mr. Stark before now, wishes that he hadn't told her that he could handle it.

(This isn't handling it, not nearly. This is the opposite of handling it. This is dropping it on the ground in a puddle of drying cement and then tripping in headfirst right after it.)

Beneath the mask, he's trembling and gasping, unable to do more than hang there limply, one leg half curled, the other bearing the weight of his entire body.

Then Rhino squeezes, and Peter can hear as much as feel the bones in his ankle grinding together before they start to break.

Peter screams, and he thinks that's what Rhino wants, because he stops squeezing and lets out a laugh, cruel and sharp and full of promises of more pain. He lets the teen hang again, which, while better than having his ankle crushed, still puts quite a bit of strain on the appendage.

Peter's only ever been in this much pain once before now, and it was when he fought Vulture for the last time. Right when he brought him down.

Peter isn't anywhere close to bringing Rhino down, and that knowledge is what has him hyperventilating more than anything else. He can't- can't breathe, he's suffocating-

Rhino drops him to the ground in a pathetic little heap of red-and-blue, and then kicks him so hard that he goes flying into a nearby building.

Peter notes, distantly, as he crashes through the window, that it's been evacuated.

(He spares a moment from the pain to be glad that he's the only one that's going to go down for this.

It's not even a question at this point. He knows that there's no way he gets out of this without serious injuries. Maybe even-

He doesn't let himself finish that thought.)

The teen crashes through more than one office before he comes to a stop, rolling over the floor until he hits a desk and sends it skidding.

(How is he still conscious?

Maybe he isn't, because he's pretty sure he loses time somewhere between feeling approximately ten billion shards of glass digging into his back and legs and coming to a stop.)

Rhino's by him a few seconds later, and his spidey sense is going insane at this point.

Thanks, Peter thinks. It's a bit hysterical, but he's, like, ninety-three percent sure that he gets a free pass for that at this point. Real helpful. Haven't noticed any danger yet.

Peter again scrabbles for a canister of web fluid- the second to last one that he has- but he's grabbed again by Rhino before he can do anything with it.

This time, the man grabs Peter by the wrist, crushing his web shooter on that arm, while using what seems to be a flamethrower to set fire to the web fluid.

It explodes.

(Later, Peter resolves, he will fix that particular error. Later, when he's not preoccupied with being beaten down by a man he's pretty sure he's heard the Hulk had trouble with.

Peter doesn't let himself dwell on the fact that there might not be a later.)

Rhino, protected by his suit, is fine after the small explosion. Peter is not, and is left feeling rather singed.

Also, he's pretty sure he's got a couple second-degree burns on his torso, but hey, minor problems.

Rhino laughs again, and then speaks, his voice coming out a strange mix of gleeful and angry that immediately makes Peter want to punch him.

Well. Makes Peter want to punch him even more than he already does.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you, kid?"

Peter gets thrown across the room again- gentler, this time; he only takes out two walls, one of them glass, and another desk- and, again, comes rolling to a stop.

It's becoming a real theme with him. Maybe he should change his name to Rolling-Man.

Nah, doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

Peter struggles to push himself to his hands and knees, but somehow, he makes it. He grins back at Rhino, dimly aware that his mask is torn just enough to show his mouth. His teeth flash, bloody and feral and full of sharp edges and conviction- conviction that he won't go down easy, that he'll take Rhino down with him.

"I've been told it's a real fault of mine."

And then he's raising his arm, hoping, begging, praying that this will work. He inserts the last canister of web fluid into his one last working webshooter, and fires.

(He takes a moment to thank Karen for automatically switching over to taser webs just before she was taken out of commission, something Peter had worked out with her weeks ago. He had figured that if he was ever fighting someone that did enough damage to his suit to take out Karen, he'd need a taser. This probably wouldn't work nearly as well without that little detail.)

As he fires, Peter notices that there's water spilled on the floor, a water cooler knocked over nearby, and Rhino's standing in the middle of the puddle- and Peter's in the water too.

He has just enough time to think, oh cr- before the pain hits.

He feels like he's being torn apart. His muscles start to spasm. He's faintly aware that someone's screaming, and he's not sure if it's him or Rhino, who he can see has been brought to his knees by the powerful current.

Peter forces himself to let go of his webshooter, releasing the web and stopping the current as he sees Rhino keel over.

Peter collapses just outside the puddle as the spasms die into tremors that wrack his frame. He can't move, can barely think, and can't even raise the energy to look over at Rhino.

This, like most things that have happened tonight, turns out to be a Bad Thing.

The only warning he gets before he's picked up off the ground by the back of his suit is the sound- and tremors that vibrate through the floor- of giant footsteps making their way over to Peter.

Rhino looms above him. He's raised his mask, and the middle-aged, balding guy that's controlling the suit looks absolutely ticked.

Apparently the electricity didn't do as much damage to him as Peter had hoped it would.

The man's speaking, but Peter's drifting in and out of awareness, and can't quite focus on the sentences. He does manage to put together the fact that this guy hates him now.

(Didn't he hate him already, though?)

Then, suddenly, he's being crushed into the floor, a giant hand pushing down on his chest.

He can't breathe, and he can feel his ribs bending slowly, until one slowly snaps- and then another, and another.

(Bizarrely, the only thoughts that float into his mind are, I'm going to die hungry, and at least May won't have as much to worry about now.)

He's pretty sure that he's hallucinating when Rhino starts to tilt slowly to the side. Also, his hallucination is showing him a dart the size of his hand sticking out of the guy's neck and also Iron Man?

Yeah, he's definitely hallucinating.

It's a nice hallucination, though, and he thinks he tells fake-Iron Man that before he passes out.

Chapter Text

When Peter wakes, it's all very sudden. He bolts upright, a panicked "Rhino," out of his mouth before he's even fully conscious.

The next thing that happens is Peter doubling over because broken ribs hurt like- well, like broken ribs.

He's being pushed down by gentle hands when he dares to open his eyes, and, to his surprise, there's a kind-looking nurse leaning over him rather than a ticked-off supervillain, and Mr. Stark is leaning against the wall in the background.

Peter stares up at the nurse, notes his name tag, and asks, very eloquently, "Wh't?"

Mr. Stark opens his mouth to speak, but the nurse- Evan, according to said name tag- beats him to the punch. "You're at the medical facility in the Avengers Compound. You've been unconscious for a little over twenty hours. You were brought in with a broken collarbone, four broken ribs, multiple second- and third-degree burns, glass embedded in the back of your torso and legs, a shattered ankle, and a severely sprained wrist, not to mention the numerous cuts and bruises you've accumulated. And the strained muscles from an electrocution that would've killed a normal human. And the serious concussion."

Peter lies back on his pillows and blinks up at Evan. "Ouch," he finally manages to say. Then, in true teenage fashion, he adds, "That sucks."

Evan gives him a brief smile before turning to do something to his I.V. "Yes, it does."

He turns and says something quietly to Mr. Stark before leaving the room. Peter watches as the older man approaches the bed, sinking heavily into the chair that's resting by the side of it.

Peter stares down at his sheets, playing with them as he waits for Mr. Stark to say something.

As it turns out, Peter is the one that breaks the silence first, though. After a few minutes of Mr. Stark just quietly watching him, Peter blurts out, "Can you just yell at me and get it over with?"

Then he feels his skin heat up as he slams his hand over his mouth.

(As much as he regrets just blurting it out there, it is an honest statement. His internal monologue is currently just a constant stream of you messed up you messed up you messed up you messed up-)

Tony stares over at him, and then rubs the bridge of his nose. "Karen called me. She's programmed so that if you're ever in danger like that and I'm not in the immediate vicinity, she'll call me, no matter what you say about it. She managed to get a call off before your suit was too damaged for her to work."

Peter stares right back at him. He's not quite sure what this has to do with him getting yelled at. Tony takes a breath, then continues. "Do you understand," Another breath, "How lucky you are that that happened?"

Peter moves his gaze back to his sheets. "Yeah."

Tony sighs. "Great. At least you weren't a total idiot about this."

Peter scowls up at his mentor. "I mean, I wouldn't say I was an idiot-"

Tony throws his hands up. "You took on Rhino! You didn't tell anyone before it started! You didn't get out of there when it looked like you were going to get seriously hurt! What part of that was smart?"

Peter can't help but flinch as the sudden movement from the other man brings back memories he'd rather bury. Tony notices, and almost immediately drops his hands back to his lap, his expression- sad, almost. And full of something else, something that Peter's never seen on the older man's face before.

"I thought you were dead for a minute, kid."

(And ouch, that hurts, because Peter knows what it's like to look at someone you know, someone you've grown close to, and see them lying lifeless in front of you. He knows the heart-wrenching feeling that hits you in your gut before you sink to your knees, a scream bubbling in your throat and denial falling from your lips.

The dullness that comes after, the way the colors leak away from things, the way sound is muffled for a long, long time. How everyone looks at you differently, with pity and something else in their eyes- a shadowed, selfish, ashamed relief that it didn’t happen to them, that they weren’t the one that lost someone they care about.

He knows.)

Peter swallows, clenching his hands into fists before hastily aborting the movement when it brings pain. "I didn't mean for it to go that badly."

Tony shakes his head. "No one ever does. I just want to know why you didn't get out of there when it started going to hell."

It isn't a question. Peter shrugs, the movement tiny and self-deprecating. "Like you said, I guess. I was being an idiot."

Tony scrubs a hand over his hair, messing it up more than it already is. "Peter, come on. You and I both know that that's a lie."

It's the use of his full name more than anything else that has Peter quietly admitting the real reason he stayed.

"If I left, Rhino was gonna go after the crowd."

Tony sighs, not really surprised. He clears his throat before speaking again. "Look-"

Peter cuts him off, not nearly finished. "It was them or me, Mr. Stark, and I wasn't going to let it be them. I'm never going to let it be them."

(Peter's had it be someone else before, and he's mourned that choice every moment since. He won't let anyone lose someone they care for because of him, for him. Not again.

He pushes aside the part of him that tells him that it’s not his fault. He knows, logically, that it wasn’t all his fault, not even slightly, but.

The guilt ties him to Uncle Ben. If he lets that go, he might lose Uncle Ben.

It’s irrational and full of faulty logic, but Peter would rather live with guilt and grief and a deep, throbbing sadness always in the back of his mind rather than lose Uncle Ben.

He’s lost too many people already.)

Peter sees Mr. Stark open his mouth to reply, so he hurries before the other man can get a word in. "And- and I know that I should have called, but I didn't think of it before it was too late, and I couldn't-"

Tony's the one that cuts him off this time. "Take a breath before you hurt yourself, kid."

Peter subsides, his gaze once again directed at the sheets. Tony breaks the silence. "Before we talk about anything else- and believe me, we will be talking about most of what you just said- I want to know one thing."

Mr. Stark barely pauses before he continues. "I watched the security footage."

Peter has a horrible feeling about what's coming next.

"That hit shouldn't have touched you. We've tested your reflexes, and you're a lot faster than that. It shouldn't even have come close to hitting you."

Peter doesn't speak. Maybe if he doesn't say anything, Mr. Stark will let it go.

(He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to go into his reasons. Not with Mr. Stark. He doesn't want to tell him exactly how bad off he and Aunt May are.

He doesn't want Tony to think less of him because they can't afford the amount of food he needs.)

No such luck. "You want to tell me why this happened?"

Peter squirms. He doesn't answer, picking at the tape holding the IV. Tony gives him another minute, then says, "You want to tell me why the doctors found out that your blood sugar was low- dangerously low?"

This time, the younger man replies. "I'm kind of hungry."

Tony leans back in his chair, raises an eyebrow. "Want to elaborate?"

Peter continues. "I'm hungry, like, all the time. No matter what I eat."

"Can't you just eat more?"

Peter shrugs, eyes darting up to the older man and back down to his sheets once again. "Um. Wemightnothavealargefoodbudget."

A cough from the man in front of him. "Mind repeating that last part?"

"We might not have a large food budget." Peter mumbles it again, reluctantly, a deep flush creeping up the back of his neck.

There's silence from Mr. Stark, and Peter really wishes the ground would swallow him up right now. This is not a subject he likes discussing- he's not ashamed of their situation, not nearly, but still- discussing the subject of money with a billionaire is a little- not embarrassing, exactly, but certainly not comfortable.

Finally, Peter looks up to see that Tony's got his face planted firmly in his hands. "Uh, Mr. Stark? Everything okay?"

Tony glances up. "I can't believe I didn't think of this."

"Think of what?"

"You've got an enhanced metabolism, right?" He doesn't give Peter a chance to reply before he continues. "So does Bruce. He has to eat an insane amount of food after he transforms into the Hulk. You're living with that constantly, though, so instead of only needing a ton of food after a fight or whatever, you need that much food every day."

Mr. Stark pulls something up on his phone before turning it to show Peter. It's a picture of something that looks like a granola bar. Peter flicks his gaze back up to the older man. "Cool?"

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. "You're missing the point. It's not just some protein bar or whatever, it’s packed full of enough calories to fill up even someone with an enhanced metabolism's stomach. Bruce developed it so that he could get enough energy in him after a rough battle until he could find real food."

Peter shrugs. "That's great. I can almost always go home and get food, though."

Tony puts his phone back in his pocket, his eyes suddenly serious. "I think we both know that there's not enough food for you there, kid."

(Peter's never been one to accept charity, and neither has Aunt May. They might have little, but it's theirs, and it's been gained through hard work and perseverance, and Peter doesn't want that discredited by a billionaire that wouldn't even blink at spending three times the amount of money that May has budgeted for food each month.)

Peter looks up, meeting Mr. Stark's eyes, anger bubbling up in his chest. "Thanks for the consideration, but-"

Tony cuts him off again. “No buts.” He pauses, flicking his eyes down to his hands, which are now clasped in his lap, and back up again. “Look, Peter. I know it can be hard to accept help from others-“

Hot anger is thundering in Peter’s veins now, and he interrupts Mr. Stark. “We don’t need your charity.”

(Peter’s heard it all before at school- he’s there on a scholarship, and high schoolers can be very, very cruel and cutting with their words. He’s been called everything from a freak because of the way he can grasp concepts easily and does math and science for fun to a charity case that has to rely on someone else to pay for school.

He’s never told anyone about this. He doesn’t plan on doing so. But he’d go through his entire fight with Rhino again before he lets Mr. Stark think he’s some pathetic child that can’t even do one thing right.)

Tony rubs his hands together as he speaks again. “It’s not charity. As long as you do this Spider-Man thing as a minor or even just work as an intern at Stark Labs, you’re my responsibility. It would be negligence if I didn’t make sure you had enough to eat.”

Peter watches warily as Mr. Stark continues, still not convinced. “How about we do this: May’ll buy however much groceries she normally does, and I’ll supply the money for everything else you need to eat.”

Peter thinks it over. Put that way, it does make sense. After all, doesn’t Stark Labs provide free meals for its employees? And Peter isn’t really that different than an employee.

Peter sighs. Rubs awkwardly at his ribs before Mr. Stark snatches his hand away with a glare. Then he makes his decision.

"I'll agree if Aunt May thinks it's okay."

Tony grins. "She already agreed. She said if I was going to approve of this whole superhero thing, then it was my responsibility to provide food for you if I wasn't going to pay you. Also, I'm pretty sure she's going to rip you a new one when she finally sees you, because she says she had no idea about your increased need for calories?"

Peter grins sheepishly, one hand coming up to rub the back of his rapidly flushing neck. "Uh, yeah, about that. I, uh, might've skipped telling her...?"

He trails off as Mr. Stark drops his head in his hands. "Kid. Look. I'm going to tell you this once, and then you better never forget it. Got it?" The man doesn't wait for Peter to even agree before continuing. "If something like this- and by like this I mean a life-changing or threatening event- happens again, you need to tell an adult right away."

Peter nods. "Got it."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Somehow, I doubt that, but hopefully, with enough repetition, it'll make its way into your head."

Peter frowns. "I thought you said that you weren't going to repeat it?"

Tony shrugs. "I mean, if it's Karen repeating it, it's still repetition."

Peter groans, flopping back on the bed, then hisses when his ribs are jarred. "Ugh. This is," he pauses dramatically and waves his arm in the air, "The worst. Ever."

Tony just smiles, and Peter thinks that maybe everything's going to be alright.

(A little bit of his guilt fades away, because if he was truly at fault for Uncle Ben’s death, then he surely wouldn’t be able to feel this happy, right?)