Chapter Text
Peter’s day was not going as planned. His alarm didn’t go off because he forgot to plug in his phone and it died sometime during the night. That had left him very little time to get ready for school before having to run to the station to catch his train. It wasn’t until he was on the platform that he realized he’d not grabbed anything for breakfast. He figured that would be okay. The school served breakfast before classes.
Except he got held up somewhere between exiting the train and catching the bus that would take him the rest of the way to school. By the time he was charging up the front steps, the bell signaling the start of class was already ringing. Grudgingly, he hurried to his first period class, his stomach grumbling the whole time.
Typically, Peter was a really good student. He’d remain mostly attentive through the lesson and complete his work in a timely manner. Often he’d finish early enough that the teacher would allow him to assist other students in finishing their work as well. However, by the third period, the nagging hunger was starting to affect his attention span.
“Mr. Parker!” Mr. Harrington said with a level of exasperation that led Peter to believe it wasn’t the first time his name had been called. He looked up, and Mr. Harrington gestured towards a sheet of paper that was balanced precariously at the corner of his desk.
Six questions, all related to the scientific process. It should have been a piece of cake. However, as he read through the various multiple choice options, none of them looked any more correct than the others. He pressed his lips together and rubbed his eyes. According to the clock, he only had about fifteen minutes to figure it out. After that, he could finally eat.
He sucked in a breath and chewed on the end of his pencil. Man, he was hungry. He wondered if he could start keeping a box of honey buns in his locker. Or invest in some sort of high protein meal replacement drinks he could grab and go in the morings. Maybe something strawberry flavored. Strawberries sounded good. Maybe in a parfait with granola and finely chopped peanuts. Sometimes Mr. Delmar had those in the cooler by the sandwich counter. His favorite number five with extra pickles popped into his head. His stomach clenched and gurgled at the thought.
When the lunch bell finally rang, Peter looked down and realized he still had two more questions to answer. He closed his eyes and sighed. He could finish them really fast, turn in the paper and rush to the lunchroom. That would give him less time to eat, but he wasn’t exactly a problem. He could hork it down in no time at all.
“Peter?” Ned nudged his shoulder. “Aren’t you heading to lunch?”
“Yep.” Peter quickly filled in another bubble on the sheet. “Just need to finish this really fast. I’ll meet you there.”
Ned hesitated but ultimately left for lunch. Peter wasn’t actually that far behind. He clutched his stomach and raced through the last few questions. The moment he was done he practically threw the assignment onto Mr. Harrington’s desk and half-jogged to the lunch room. The closer he got, the more savory smells wafted into his nose. He couldn't quite decipher what it was, but he couldn’t wait to eat it.
He hit his next snag of the day as he entered the cafeteria. The line for hot lunch was at least sixty students deep and he was at the back of it. He looked down at his watch, tapping his foot as he watched as the twenty-eight minutes allotted to his lunch period dwindled into the single digits. By the time he finally had his tray in hand, there were only six minutes remaining until he had to head to his next class.
He threw a piece of broccoli, the only thing on his plate he could even remotely consider a finger food, into his mouth as he weaved through the tables towards Ned.
“Dude! What took you so long?” Ned asked.
“I don’t know,” Peter inadvertently snapped. “The line was slow today.”
In the end, he’d only managed to chew his way through half a meager serving of pasta before the bell went off. He groaned in frustration and chugged his tiny carton of milk before cleaning up his mess. He wished he’d gotten a banana instead of applesauce. At least he could have carried that with him. There was no time to dwell on it.
His next class was on the other side of the campus: gym. There was something extra annoying about having to run to a class that mostly involved a lot of running. At least he made it on time. He was able to change clothes and exit the locker room just in time to hear Coach Wilson shouting some instructions.
“Line up everyone! Four laps! Once you’ve finished your four laps you can divide yourselves between basketball or the exercise mats. Your choice.”
He glanced at MJ on the stands reading a book. He wondered how she’d managed to get out of participating. He sighed and started his first lap. He didn’t go full pace. He never did. He was happy to hold himself back, unnoticed in the rear of the pack. He finished the first lap and began the second. About halfway through, his head started to feel a little fuzzy. His vision followed suit, blurring just a touch as he rounded the last corner. Maybe it was sweat? Was he sweating? He wiped his hand over his brow and blinked. It didn’t help.
“Tie your laces, Parker!” Coach Wilson bellowed.
Peter glanced downward. Sure enough, the laces on one of the shoes was loose and slapping against the asphalt. He drifted to the side of the track and knelt down in the grass to tie it. Once he was done he found himself not wanting to get back up. His stomach was beyond growling. A piece of broccoli, six bites of pasta, and some milk was a tease after going without anything for so long. He was starting to feel a little nauseous.
“Let’s go, Parker! Get moving!”
Reluctantly Peter leaned back on his haunches, rocked forward and sprang to his feet. Or- that was the plan. His legs extended as expected but the upward motion made his head swim. The lights faded and the world swirled around him before his knees buckled and he stumbled backward. Suddenly, time became indistinct and everything around him was reduced to slow motion as he swayed in place.
“Peter? Peter, are you with me?” Coach Wilson’s voice asked.
Slowly, Peter nodded his head. There was a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He took the hint and sat down on the lawn.
“What happened?”
“Dunno,” Peter mumbled. He pulled his knees up to his chest and cradled his head on his arms. “Just– Got dizzy.”
“Are you still feeling dizzy?”
Peter opened his eyes. The world seemed to have righted itself and Coach Wilson’s worried face was well in focus. Although, his thoughts were still a bit foggy. And his stomach was still screaming. He squeezed his eyes closed and gently bobbed his head.
“You probably just need some water. But I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Coach Wilson stood up and turned his back. “Miss Jones! Since you don’t seem to have anything better to do, how about you escort Mr. Parker to the nurses office?”
The next thing Peter registered was Coach Wilson tugging him to his feet. MJ was there too, a look of concern on her face. “I’m fine,” he assured. And other than the lingering distraction and persistent hunger, he was. No one believed him. Not even Flash, who had suddenly appeared on the sideline.
“Just go to the nurse, Parker. No one wants to have to scrape your pathetic body up off the track.”
It was the nicest thing Flash had ever said to him.
“What’s your name, and what are you in for?” Nurse Emily asked, sounding bored as Peter was unceremoniously shoved onto a cot inside the tiny nurses office.
He opened his mouth to answer. But was unable to produce a single syllable before MJ was talking over him. “Peter Parker. He tried to pass out while running laps.”
“No,” Peter adamantly corrected. He shot her a glare and shook his head. “I didn’t try to pass out. I just got a little light headed when I stood up.”
Nurse Emily sighed as she brushed her long graying hair behind one ear. She picked up a notepad and pulled a multicolored dinosaur pen out of her shirt pocket. “Was he unconscious for any amount of time? Are there any scrapes or bruises? Did he hit his head?”
“I didn’t pass out!” Peter reiterated. “I leaned down to tie my shoe and got dizzy when I stood up.” His stomach cramped, followed by an uncomfortable swoosh. He swallowed hard and glanced around the room. “My stomach kinda feels weird though. Do you have any food?”
“I have water.” Nurse Emily handed him the tiniest bottle of water he’d ever seen in his life. She nodded her head as he took a swig and turned towards the file cabinet that held the clinic cards. She thumbed through the drawer labeled ‘P-R’ until she came up with a bright pink sheet of paper. She read it over and nodded in approval before turning her attention to MJ. “Thanks for bringing him in. I’m going to call someone to pick him up.”
MJ looked reluctant to leave. She sent Peter one last concerned expression and squeezed his hand. “Feel better, Loser,” she whispered, then slipped out the door and into the empty hallway.
Peter watched her go, then sighed as he laid back on the cot. “My aunt's at work. She probably won’t answer.”
“Oh, I’m not calling her.” Nurse Emily peeked over the bright blue rim of her rectangular reading glasses and raised her brows. “I’m calling your first contact. A Mr. Anthony Stark?”
Peter was slightly taken aback. He and Mr Stark were close. Close enough that he definitely considered him something of a parental figure. But that didn’t lessen his bewilderment. “Uh, when did he become my first contact? Actually, when did he become a contact at all?”
Nurse Emily lowered her eyes and scanned the document again. “Looks like your information was updated at the beginning of the school year. It has your aunt’s signature on it. You do know who this person is, right?”
“Of course, I know him. I just–” It abruptly occurred that the nurse was taking the fact that Tony Stark- that Iron Man was his first contact very, very casually. It didn’t help his already heightened state of confusion. “Wait. Don’t you?”
Nurse Emily shrugged her shoulders and picked up the phone. “Hi. This is Emily Baxter, the school nurse at Midtown High. Is this Mr. Anthony Stark?”
Peter decided to drink his mouthful of water and zone out while that conversation took place. He thought about how embarrassing it was going to be to have to explain everything to Mr. Stark; the late start, the lack of breakfast, the inadequate lunch, feeling off in PE, and… May deciding to add his name to the top of his emergency contacts list. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation. Unless it happened to take place in a booth at the closest restaurant. There was a really good Greek diner around the corner. They had the best Spanakopita he’d ever eaten. The lemon roasted potatoes were awesome too. And the Tzatziki cucumber salad. The thought of food made his stomach twist. He curled up on the cot and stared blankly at the wall.
Not quite forty minutes later, he heard a soft knock, followed by Nurse Emily instructing whoever it was to come in. Peter sat up as the door cracked open and in walked Mr. Stark, dressed in a full three-piece suit. He glanced at Nurse Emily to see her reaction. Surprisingly, there was none. She simply peeked over her glasses to see who and walked in and went right back to whatever romance novel she was reading at her desk. Mr. Stark waved half-heartedly in her direction but immediately crossed the room to stand by the cot.
“Hey, Bud,” he said softly. “You good?”
“Mhm.” Peter nodded his head and slid off the end of the cot. Mr. Stark didn’t appear to be convinced. A hand shot out to take hold of his shoulder. “I’m fine, really. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Mr. Stark's hand remained firmly in place as he raised a single questioning brow. “The nurse said you passed out in gym class.”
“Oh my God!” Peter rolled his eyes. Maybe he was just cranky from his stomach trying to eat itself but he was getting really tired of people accusing him of fainting mid-run. “I didn’t pass out! I got dizzy. That’s not even close to the same thing.”
Mr. Stark released his hold but his forehead remained creased with worry. “Either way, I’m a little concerned considering you’re–” his words stopped abruptly. He glanced briefly at the nurse and subtly mimed shooting a web. “Generally very healthy.”
“I’m fine,” Peter insisted. When Mr. Stark continued to look at him, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. It only took a few seconds for Peter to give in. “I’m just– hungry.”
“Hungry,” Tony blandly repeated. “You took a nose dive while running the track because you’re hungry?”
A frustrated noise broke free from Peter’s mouth. “I didn’t have time to eat breakfast this morning and I didn’t get to eat much of my lunch either. I don’t have snacks in my backpack or my locker and all the nurse could give me was a tiny bottle of water.”
Mr. Stark blinked. “Okay. Let me get you signed out and… we’ll get you fed.” He opened the door and steered Peter into the main office. The secretary seemed more appropriately starstruck than Nurse Emily had. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was agape as she handed Mr. Stark the check-out form. He signed it with a flourish and pushed through the doors leading into the parking lot.
“Maybe we should stop at the corner store and grab some emergency snacks to keep at school. Apparently it’s a bad idea to keep your metabolism waiting.” He clicked a button on his keys, unlocking all the doors with a high pitched beep. They both climbed in and Mr. Stark started the engine. “Meantime, what do you want to eat? We can sit down somewhere if you want.”
“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Stark” Peter mumbled under his breath. He barely had time to snap his seat belt in place before Mr. Stark was pulling onto the street. “You’re super busy and we have food at the apartment. You can just drop me-”
Without taking his eyes off of the road, Mr. Stark haphazardly waved a hand in front of Peter’s face. “I’ve got nothing but time, Kid. What do you want to eat?”
Peter sighed. His mind drifted back to spanakopita he'd been thinking about earlier. His mouth watered at the thought. “Can we go to Ariti’s Metro Diner? I mean, unless you'd rather go somewhere–”
“Sure,” Mr. Stark happily interjected. “Lead the way.”
Peter leaned back in the seat and smiled. The restaurant wasn’t far. All he had to do was point out the next traffic signal. They turned right and they were already there. The sign at the front instructed them to seat themselves. Mr. Stark automatically led them to a booth in the back.
Mr. Stark ordered everything Peter pointed out on the menu. Including a giant slice of cheesecake. And the moment it all hit the table he dug in with gusto. It wasn’t until he’d eaten an entire large plate that Mr. Stark attempted to start any kind of conversation.
“You really like this place, huh?”
Peter hummed around the food in his mouth. “Me and May come here all the time. We've never ordered this much, though. So thank you, Mr. Stark. This is really awesome.”
“Well, you needed to eat, right?” Mr. Stark smirked. He scooped up a spoonful of chickpea salad and casually brought it to his mouth. He chewed, swallowed and wiped his lips with a napkin. “The place isn't exactly classy, but the food’s good.”
Peter nodded in agreement. He couldn’t wait to tell May that he’d gotten to eat his weight in Greek food on his way home. Thinking of his aunt reminded him of his earlier confusion. He tapped his index finger against the table as he swallowed the last of the food in his mouth. “Did you know May added you to my emergency contact list?”
“Of course, Kiddo.” Tony huffed a laugh. “How do you think FRIDAY knew to push the call through to my phone?”
Peter sighed, because that made sense, and reworded his question. “Okay, but did you know she made you my first contact? Like they’ll call you before her?”
“Yep. She said you have a bad habit of only getting into trouble or needing to be picked up when she’s on shift.” Tony grinned. “And since my job is a lot more flexible than hers, we agreed it made sense to put my name at the top.”
Peter wasn’t sure what sort of answer he’d expected but it wasn’t that. When had his aunt started talking to Mr Stark without him? Lacking a better response, he nodded his head and said, “That’s cool, I guess.” As an afterthought he added, “I promise I’ll try to keep them from calling you over every little thing. I know you have better things to do.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Mr. Stark snagged a bite of the cheesecake. “Let them call me. This is the best excuse for getting out of business obligations I’ve ever had.”
For some reason, that made Peter feel a lot better about the arrangement. “Alright, fine.” A wide smile spread across his face. “I will try to stay out of trouble though.”
“Good plan, Kiddo.” Mr Stark chuckled lightly. “Now let’s finish this cheesecake and get out of here. We've got some shopping to do.”
Peter happily obliged.