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Peter didn't mean to fall asleep.
That was the embarrassing part.
Not the fact that he'd been awake for… too long. Not the fact that he was starving because his metabolism burned through food faster than he could eat. Not even the fact that he'd spent the last week balancing school, patrols, internship work, and enough homework to qualify as psychological warfare.
No.
The embarrassing part was that he'd fallen asleep sitting upright on a lab stool.
Of course, the day didn't start this way.
Peter had woken up to his alarm, reaching for his cell phone with bleary eyes and a pounding headache. He had been out until ungodly hours last night as Spider-Man — which wasn't his fault, by the way. Karen had reminded him many times of his curfew, but as Winter was approaching, there were more people out on the streets in need of food, blankets, and medical attention.
He had even begun swinging home a few times, but he could hear people crying out for help. He could see people, children, huddled under cardboard, and begging strangers for food.
One lady had cried so hard when Peter brought her a worn-out blanket, that he couldn't help but sit with her for as long as she needed, letting her cry into his shoulder. She was shivering, but refused to go to a shelter. Peter sat with her until she fell asleep, and then left one of his Spider-Bots behind to keep an eye. Just in case.
And when he did get home, stumbling through his window and ripping his suit off, he remembered that the reason he rushed out so fast in the first place was because he was studying for his AP chemistry test, and he needed to be back ASAP.
…So that's how Peter ended up half asleep on the subway with a slice of toast in his hand and chemistry flashcards in the other, blasting music through his earbuds in hopes that he would be awake enough for his test.
*
By the time he got to his locker, Peter felt like he was dragging his feet with every step. It took him two tries to get his combination right, and two more to hang his backpack on the hook to grab his stuff.
A familiar voice came from behind him. "Dude, you look like shit."
"Thanks, Ned," Peter rolled his eyes, stifling a yawn and sniffing the air. Was there something sweet around here? "I stayed up late last night. But I'll be fine."
"Bro, why would you go out at all?" Ned moved to stand next to him, and Peter shifted his gaze away to ignore the imploring eyes his friend was making. "It's midterm season! Wouldn't Mr. Stark understand if you took a night off?"
"You think he wants this?" Peter frowns, stuffing his textbooks in his bag and slamming his locker shut, lowering his voice to a whisper. "It would be his dream for me to only go out on weekends. But people don't stop needing help just because Spider-Man has a chemistry test."
"Yeah, but—" Ned holds up a water bottle that clearly was not filled with water, and Peter realizes that's where that smell was coming from. "I'm literally drinking an energy drink to stay awake after 9 hours of sleep. You were swinging around Queens all night, and—"
"Shh!" Peter shoved his hand over Ned's mouth, his friend's eyes widening. "Can you not say that so loud?"
"Sorry," Ned whispers after being released. "But I'm serious. You should drink this."
"What would that even help me with?" Peter hisses out, as he turns to walk toward his first class. "It'll just make me jittery, like coffee does but times a billion."
"Coffee makes you jittery on regular days, not when you've basically been up crimefighting for 24 hours!"
"What if it makes me crash?"
"Peter, you're already crashing."
"Okay, but what if it makes me crash harder?"
"Is that even possible?"
Peter shrugs. He'd never tested energy drinks before, considering how coffee usually had him jumping all over the walls of Mr. Stark's lab. But Ned was right, that's when he was rested. Not when he was running on two hours of sleep.
"I guess it should be fine," he says slowly, taking the drink from Ned's outstretched hand. He hesitates, sniffing the sweet can once, twice, before downing it all in one go.
"Woah!" Ned exclaimed. "Peter!"
"Oh, sorry!" Peter startled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I thought you were done with it."
"No, I was, but I didn't think you'd chug a hundred milligrams of caffeine in one go!"
"Yeah, but I'm—" Peter stopped himself, bringing his voice down. "You know. I have… it won't affect me the same, right? Like how Captain America can't get drunk. This probably won't even do anything."
"But we already know that you get affected by caffeine!"
"Why are you suddenly not on my side anymore?!" Peter frowned. "You were just convincing me it would be fine!"
"Yeah, but…" Ned took a deep breath, and exhaled. "Yeah. It should be fine. You're… you. That's totally different than if I did that."
"Exactly," Peter nodded, feeling himself perk up already. "It'll be fine."
*
Chugging that energy drink was the best decision Peter could have made.
He totally aced his chemistry test, his hand flying faster than his thoughts could keep up with as his legs bounced up and down. He was wide awake during English for once, actually paying attention to the lecture and even getting a look from his teacher when he kept interrupting to ask questions instead of falling asleep like usual. He even did better than usual in P.E— which is usually something he would avoid, but everyone could see how he was a ball of energy so nobody questioned it when he ran an extra lap or two compared to usual, his heart hammering a little harder than usual. It felt good when Coach Wilson slapped him on the back for his effort, reminding him faintly of the approval he gets from another figure in his life.
All in all, Peter was having a pretty good day.
Or… he was.
By the time lunch rolled around, Peter was beginning to feel the after effects of his little experiment.
"Woah, dude, you look like shit."
"Thanks again, Ned," Peter sighed, sinking onto the bench in the cafeteria.
He wasn't wrong. Though the energy drink had done wonders in the morning, Peter's dark circles had somehow gotten darker, and his hands were clearly trembling. His chest was also kind of tight, and was the ground somehow tilted?
"I thought you said it worked?" Ned frowned.
"It did work, but it totally wore off," Peter sighed, scrubbing at his face to get the pounding behind his eyes to go away. If anything, he was feeling worse than before. "Do you have another one?"
"What?! No way am I giving you another one, dude! You look like you're about to die, like, right now!"
"Okay, but do you?" Peter sniffed the air, eyes widening as he looked at the bottle in Ned's hand. "You're drinking one right now!"
"What the heck— that's freaky!" Ned yelped, pulling his hand away as Peter reached for it. "You shouldn't, Peter!"
Peter sniffed the air again, this time tilting toward Ned's backpack. "Holy shit— dude, you've got like five in there! And you're telling me I'm being dangerous?!"
"They're not all for one day!" Ned protested. "And I'm not the one acting like a crazy junkie right now!"
"I'm not a— I'm not a junkie," Peter hisses out, clasping his hands together in a pleading motion. "Come on, please Ned. I'll pay you back, seriously. I just need to get through school and the internship after school. I swear I'll go straight to bed after."
Ned hesitated as Peter begged. "...You swear? No Spider-Manning today?" He asked quietly.
"I swear, man. I just need one."
His friend faltered before sighing, and sliding the bottle over. "Okay, man, but I'm seriously never bringing these to school ever again. You're crazy."
Peter smiled gratefully, pulling the bottle toward himself and throwing the drink back, just as he did in the morning. "Thanks, Ned," He wiped his mouth, grinning. "I owe you one."
"Oh, you owe me a lot more than that, Peter."
*
By the time the bell rang for afternoon classes, Peter felt like electricity.
In a good way, of course.
He waved goodbye to Ned (with an elaborate handshake done a little faster than usual), and left for his International Business class, feeling a lot better than when he walked into the cafeteria. Everything felt great— maybe a little too great, but who would complain about that?
The classroom was already half full when he got there. He slid into his seat, pulling out his notebook and pen.
When the teacher started talking, Peter followed along easily, even guessing some of the questions in his head before they were answered. He grinned, legs bouncing up and down. Being this wide awake on two hours of sleep? This was too easy.
*
Calculus was even better. Well… depending on how you looked at it.
Equations were lining themselves up in his head as he read them, and he wrote down the answers before he fully comprehended them.
Peter had always been good at math, but he rarely got more than six hours of sleep a night. It was unheard of for him to be so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in his last period class.
"Correct," his teacher said again, after he correctly answered a problem on the board.
Peter's hand was barely down before he the teacher asked the next one, and his hand shot up again. Was it hot in here?
"Er, how about someone other than—"
Peter faltered, lowering his hand. Was he wrong the last time? Or did his teacher assume he'd be wrong this time? But when you bring down the exponent, the answer is obviously—
"Zero," Peter blurted out, before slamming his hand over his mouth. "Sorry!"
His teacher frowned, taking in Peter's shaky demeanor. "Are you okay, Peter? You can take a minute."
"What? No, no, I'm great."
His teacher nodded slowly, looking unconvinced. "Uh-huh…"
Peter smiled sheepishly, face burning. "Sorry. I uhh— didn't get much sleep last night."
His fingers were tapping on the table at this point, and his eye was twitching.
"And then I… had coffee."
The teacher looked skeptical. "This was… coffee."
"...Yeah."
His teacher paused, before turning back to his desk to grab a pink pad and a pen. Aw, come on!
"Why don't you head down to the nurse, Peter?" His teacher offered kindly, scribbling onto the paper and tearing it off. "Just so she can check you out."
"No, I really don't need to—"
"Healthy kids don't say no to skipping Calculus," the teacher chuckles, and Peter's face burns again. "Why don't you just pop down there, and she'll check you out."
Peter sighed deeply, avoiding eye contact with his classmates as he took the slip and began gathering his things. "Yes, sir."
*
On the way to the nurse's office, Peter can maybe tell that something is wrong.
He's clearly dragging his feet, even though he's trying to move quickly. His right eye is definitely twitching now, and he can't stop twisting his fingers together. The lights in the hallway were much brighter than usual, burning his retinas as he forced himself to stare at his feet instead. He can't stop himself from chewing on the inside of his cheek, and he wondered if Ned would give him another drink before he had to leave for his internship.
Before he even reached the nurse's office, though, the final bell rang out, causing him to yelp and cover his ears. School was over already? He hadn't even noticed the time pass. Wasn't he just in Business class?
The poor nurse was probably getting ready to head home at this point, there was no point in Peter coming to bother her now. Besides, he was pretty close to his own locker by now, and he kind of just wanted to get out of this extremely loud, suddenly busy hallway.
When he reached his locker, his breathing was slower than usual. It reeked of way-too-much cologne being sprayed in the locker room a few doors down, and Peter's nose was burning. Dozens of kids were pushing past him, and he had to grit his teeth to not push them away.
He held his locker dial in his hands. Wrong combination.
He tried it again. When did his hands get this shaky?
Wrong again.
"Peter."
He startled. How did he not hear Ned coming up behind him?
"I've got it," Peter nodded, half talking to himself and half to Ned.
He tried turning the knob again. Wait, was he on the second number or third?
"You don't," Ned replied.
Peter sighed, shaking his head. He blinked hard, staring down at the dial, and slowly inputting the combination and tugging. Bingo!
"Got it! See, I'm fine!" He slammed his locker open, flinching hard at the loud bang it made.
"Dude…" Ned just shook his head. "Just call Mr. Stark and say you gotta go home, man."
"No, no," Peter swapped some textbooks, continuing to blink a little hard to keep himself alert. "I was just zoned out. I'm literally fine."
"You're literally gonna kill yourself. If you're not dead already."
"I don't even know what that means, man," Peter closes his locker (gently this time), and the two walk toward the front of the school. He rubbed his chest a little, taking a deep breath. "Happy's probably here by now, I gotta head out. I'll see you tomorrow?"
Peter could tell that his friend was getting annoyed with him, but he didn't have the energy to care too much. If anything, who gave Ned the right to be annoyed? Peter was the one falling apart!
"Uh… whatever, man. I'll see you tomorrow, if you actually survive the night."
They part ways on the front steps, and Peter's eyes shot around. It was pretty easy to spot the sleek black car that could only belong to Tony Stark, along with the grumpy driver that leaned against it.
He walked up to him, trying to take a deep breath. Ned would survive Peter snapping at him, but Happy might just kick him out on the street.
"Hey, Happy."
"You're— wait," Happy stopped himself, surveying Peter up and down. "What's wrong with you?"
"What?" Peter frowned, looking down. His clothes were clean, what was wrong? I mean, his legs were shaking a little bit, and his chest was still a little tight, but it's not like Happy could see that, and— oh right, he's pretty sure he still has dark circles under his eyes, but that's kind of typical for him anyway.
"You look like death," Happy put it bluntly. "Are you high?"
"What?!" Peter crossed his arms. "I am not!"
"You're acting like it," Happy muttered, turning to get in the car and leaving Peter to grab his own door.
Well, at least that was more typical of Happy. Peter opened his door and slid in, throwing his backpack on the ground and sinking into his seat.
Now that he was sitting down, it felt like all his bubbling annoyance just melted right out of him. He wonders, would Happy mind if he just took a quick nap before they got to the Tower? It's not like they usually do much chatting, and he might do better in the lab if he just had a little—
"Don't you dare fall asleep on these seats, kid. These seats are real leather, and I don't clean teenage drool."
Peter's eyes snapped open, and his cheeks burned. "I am not! I'm not falling asleep."
Welp. He should have stayed on Ned's good side and swiped another drink.
*
When Peter was finally in the elevator on his way up to the lab floor, it felt like his brain was swimming through a pool of jello. That makes sense, right?
Ding!
Peter stepped out of the elevator, shaking his head to try and feel more alert. Especially since Mr. Stark was usually pretty, hmm, what's the word—
"Hey, kid! What's cookin, good lookin?"
Hyper. Mr. Stark was always hyper around this time.
The man was kneeling on his worktable— yes, on — with a pencil behind his ear and an array of tools around him. A gauntlet laid open on the table, and a laptop sat nearby with code open on the screen.
Peter rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stifle a small smile. Just being in the lab was already making him feel so much better. Maybe he could get through today without Mr. Stark asking any questions about his sleep habits. "Hey, Mr. Stark."
At the sound of his voice (even though Peter could swear he sounded perfectly normal), Mr. Stark's head shot up. "What's wrong with you?"
"What?" Peter frowned. Damn. "What do you mean what's wrong with me?"
"You're shaking like a junkie that can't get his shit. And that hasn't slept in a week," Mr. Stark put down his tools and hopped off the table, groaning and doubling over. "Jeez, why the hell was I sitting like that?"
"Because you think you're a twenty-three year old yoga instructor?"
Mr. Stark glared, eyes narrowing as he walked over to glare down at Peter. "Alright, maybe you are fine. But you definitely didn't sleep last night. Right?" He put his hands on his hips, and Peter couldn't help but be reminded of an angry Aunt May.
"I did sleep!"
"How much?"
"Um…" Peter hesitated for one second too long, and Mr. Stark snapped his fingers in his face. Damn it!
"And don't lie to me! I know you stayed out past curfew already."
What?! "Then why didn't you call and yell at me?"
Mr. Stark's face fell slightly, and Peter felt a pang of guilt. He didn't mean to make him feel bad.
"I didn't call," Mr. Stark's eyebrows furrowed, "Because I had your vitals open. If they dipped even slightly, your butt would have been dragged here faster than you could spin a web, Spider-Baby. But I saw what you were doing," his eyes softened, "And it didn't look all that dangerous. So I didn't bust you to Officer May."
Peter sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Thanks, Mr. Stark. I swear I don't feel as bad as I look."
Anymore.
"Well, that's good," Mr. Stark half-smiled, "Because you look like you got beat up by a gang, and then you didn't sleep for a month."
Peter laughed. "Yeah, I don't feel like that. Also, I think school was sucking the life force out of me. Because I feel a lot better ever since I got here."
That came out a lot mushier than he was imagining it to be, and Mr. Stark's softened face made him blush harder than possible. C'mon Peter, this is Iron Man you're talking to!
Mr. Stark didn't mention it though, at least. He reached up to ruffle Peter's hair with a small smile. "Well, Pepper made us smoothies on her lunch break, so I'm gonna go grab them. If you could look at that sucker," he turned to point behind him at the gauntlet, "That would be great. See if you can figure out what's wrong with it. That's your first task of the day. Kay?"
Peter nodded, smiling back at the man. "Kay."
The man slapped his back before he walked into the already-waiting elevator.
Once the doors slid shut, Peter walked over to the table, tossing his backpack underneath it and tugging a stool closer to the gauntlet. He might have the physical ability to crouch like Mr. Stark, but he was still feeling a little tired, and didn't want to chance slipping and destroying a multi-million dollar piece.
He sat on the stool, leaning forward to squint at the gauntlet. The code looked fine (and FRIDAY confirmed that), so clearly, something was wrong with the physical machine.
As he turned over the capacitors and transistors in his mind, he began to feel himself grow heavier.
No, Peter, you cannot fall asleep here!
Peter blinked hard.
The gauntlet in front of him blurred.
He blinked again. Still blurry.
"Okay, this is okay," he muttered. "Just gotta find the problem. Easy."
His head dipped. He jerked upright so fast he nearly fell off the stool.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Peter grabbed a screwdriver and poked at one of the housing panels. The metal slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the table.
The sound felt weirdly distant.
His heartbeat, which had been pounding against his ribs all afternoon, suddenly didn't feel so loud anymore.
Actually…
He felt kind of nice.
Warm.
The lab lights glowed softly overhead, as Peter rested one elbow on the table.
He rested his cheek against his fist, eyes drooping. He wasn't going to fall asleep, though. He just needed a second to think. Just a minute. Just while he—
*
Tony was in the middle of explaining to Pepper how smoothies absolutely did count as balanced meals for growing teenagers as he stepped back into the lab.
"It's literally a fruit salad, have you seen what teenage boys put in their bodies these days?"
Pepper sighed over the phone as Tony grinned, before he looked up and froze.
Peter was… asleep?
Like, totally asleep.
"FRIDAY, is he—"
"Mr. Parker is asleep."
Yeah, no shit. "Is he okay?"
"Mr. Parker slept for two hours overnight. According to Karen, he also ingested four-hundred and fifty eight milligrams of caffeine over a three-hour period at school today."
Tony's eyes widened. "He did what?!"
He hung up with Pepper and threw the smoothies onto the table, running to the boy's side.
From above, he seemed… fine. His head was on the hard lab table, and his back was rounded… that can't be comfortable. But his eyes were closed so lightly, and his mouth was slightly open. He was even snoring softly.
"Er… should I wake him up?"
"Based on a check-in with Karen and Mr. Hogan, it might be better to let him sleep. Perhaps we can move him to a more comfortable position."
Tony sighed. "And by we, you mean me. Because you have no arms."
"Yes."
He snorted, nodding as he braced himself. "The things I do for you, kid…"
Tony lifted Peter's head, pushing it onto his hand. Then he put his other arm under the kid's legs. He counted to three in his head, and then lifted.
"Oof!"
Peter was actually lighter than he was expecting, maybe from all the drills that Steve had them doing. But he was still a teenage boy.
Stumbling and praying that he wouldn't drop the boy, Tony managed to heave him over to the couch. He dropped Peter onto his side, rather unceremoniously, and let out a big sigh.
Peter snorted, before curling up tighter. Aw.
Turning behind him, Tony fished out one of his own emergency blankets and draped it over the boy, tucking it under his chin without fully realizing his actions.
He stared at him for a moment.
Peter, this sweet boy with a heart of gold, who had stayed up all night just to help people who didn't even know his name.
Peter, who had refused to rest for so long, but fell asleep as soon as he got to his lab.
How did he stay awake on the car ride home, but fell asleep sitting up on a hard stool?
It was almost as if…
Tony smiled, shaking his head as he smoothed the boy's hair.
This kid was going to be the death of him.