this was supposed to be the happy chapter but it turned into Peter angst with a happy ending lol

anyways i can't believe how much support this has gotten? thank you all so much, especially the people who left kudos and comments! they really motivated me and got me through a hard few weeks.

also, sorry this took forever to get out! i've been insanely busy and haven't had much time to write between being emotionally, mentally, and physically drained and trying to get a lot of stuff done. but it's here now, so enjoy!

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?)

the bit about the granola bars with tons of calories is from enigmaticblue's "Running on Empty," which is an amazing fic that i highly recommend reading. they were super kind and gave me permission to use the headcanon, so thanks again enigmaticblue!