Chapter Text
Peter scrolled on his phone mindlessly. Trying to find a video that'll help him take him out of his mind. All so he won’t have to keep repeating the same thoughts and questions over and over again.
How many calories have I eaten?
How many more meals can I skip before Aunt May catches on?
What can I say to Mr. Stark if he asks why I’ve skipped so many movie nights?
Every day seemed to revolve around calories. And it will only consume him more when that god awful number goes up one pound.
Water weight? No. You’re gaining fat.
The things his mind comes up with will stick with him for hours. It all slowly deteriorates the already poor image of what he sees in the mirror.
He starts getting a headache from staring at a screen in the dark for so long, so he puts his phone down and rolls over.
His window has a sheer curtain that lets him see a distorted image of what’s outside. And while looking at a random house in Queens, a churning in his stomach makes him curl into himself; it was almost a burning sensation.
All he knows is that it was the only thing apart from the number on the scale going down that tells him he’s doing something right.
His stomach growling when it was empty was a bittersweet feeling that he wouldn’t trade for anything.
It’s only around 9pm, but his body doesn’t have much energy to stay awake. His eyes slowly closed, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
His phone is blaring. He rubs his eyes and blinks a few times so they can focus. Grabbing his phone and stopping the alarm that was set for 6:30 am, he sits up and glances out the window.
Perfect. The sun was just barely starting to come up, though it wasn’t able to be seen and only a light blue seemed to wash over the sky.
While picking out some sweatpants and a plain black shirt, he made it intentional to avoid his mirror at all costs. He didn’t need his morning to be ruined this quickly. When brushing out his hair, there were limited tangles to his surprise. The small victories.
Avoiding the mirror didn't last long. It only took a glance to wince slightly at what he saw. The scars on his arm that would never fade and a body that can never seem to satisfy him stared back.
He then decided to throw on a jacket before he left, just so he wouldn’t feel so exposed.
Taking a walk to help burn off the dinner Aunt May made him eat last night is probably why the alarm was even set; he wasn’t sure though.
Frankly, he wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed yet. The only meal he has been eating is dinner, and even then, it was at most 300 calories. Even that was generous.
The constant feeling of exhaustion, because calories apparently are the worst thing in the world, seems to be so stupid to him, in all honesty.
Only, it really isn’t up to him to push them out of his mind. If he could, he would.
After grabbing headphones and throwing on a pair of black Converse that were scuffed up, he let go of all the tension he was carrying around in a deep breath.
He ended up walking out the door around 6:50 am, not really caring about how he appeared to others because nobody would be awake at this time anyway.
It was surprisingly cold. The breeze hit him first, and he almost instantly felt himself taking in the still scenery.
Taking walks was the one thing that never had a negative effect waiting to stab him in the back. He gets exercise, a free excuse to leave the home, and sometimes the ability to snap back to reality for an hour or two.
No words must be spoken between him and anyone or anything, just the cool breeze against his face as he walks with music playing in his headphones. While walking, there were some moments where he debated whether taking a walk right now was even worth it. His body really did ache.
The world seemed...duller. For some reason, there seemed to be just no color in the grass or trees. Walking makes him feel better, but this was just adding to the idea of how empty and miserable he thought the world was.
Shit.
He forgot. His alarm wasn’t to take a damn walk; it was to remind him to get ready for his internship with the Tony Stark. Standing there like an idiot won’t do anything, so he decides to just head over to the Stark Tower right now.
He’s in clothes that he would usually wear to meet with Mr. Stark, so it should be fine. The only thing is that he didn’t really prepare, mentally, that is. It’ll have to do because the tower is a bit of a stroll from his apartment.
What if he notices how dark the circles are under his eyes? No, it’ll be fine. He wouldn’t care or see them anyway.
When arriving at the tower, surprisingly on time, his vision is halfway gone. Maybe it’s from not eating, or it could just be how the sun was in his eyes for over 30 minutes.
He knocks on the door and flattens his shirt while waiting for the door to open. To Peter’s surprise, Tony actually opened the door and not FRIDAY. He’s not complaining, just a small difference he took a mental note of.
“Got hit by a car on your way over?” Tony eyed him up and down for a second before dropping whatever act he was trying to do, and his eyes softened, along with a warm smile appearing on his face. “Come in Underoos, I have a new prototype I want to share.”
Tony was genuinely happy to see Peter, and vice versa. He really was the only one in Peter’s life who had never let him down. And he knew that. Maybe it fed his ego of how great he is, but it was also the base of their unbreakable bond.
On their way down to the workshop, Peter almost slouched in his walk. Like every step was killing him. Tony did notice, and it only seemed to feed the concern that had been building up over the past few times he had seen Peter.
“Pete, you know if you aren’t feeling the best, I won’t force you to be here,” Tony tried approaching the conversation that might give him some answers in a soft and genuinely concerned way. Knowing that Peter wasn’t the best with communication, it was really up to him to give the first hint.
Almost immediately, it looked like Peter had a physical reaction. His breath caught, and his eyes flickered to Tony, then to a random object on a desk, almost too quickly. He was silent for a moment, then collected himself, “I’m alright Mr. Stark, really. If I didn’t want to be here, I would have made a lousy excuse to leave.” Which was technically true, but the slight uncomfortable shifting of his body spoke louder.
Tony hummed in response while observing Peter as he tinkered with the random piece of metal from the table that he supposedly found interesting all of a sudden. “Well then, the least I can do is offer you a snack or water at least after you walked that far.” It was an offer with a meaning behind it, yes, but he’ll do whatever it takes to get his- the kid to have food in his system.
Peter’s body only tensed more with even the idea of food in his mouth.
“I think I'll skip having something this time, I feel a bit nauseous.” Peter’s gaze was dull, and his breath came in small gasps through his nose. His mind is running at a hundred miles per hour while trying to think of all the different snacks Tony might offer and how many calories, and god, when will he have time to burn them off-
“Hey,” Tony’s caring tone cut through Peter’s spiral, only then continuing when Peter met his gaze, “You need to have something- anything. I can’t let you be working while you look like you’re going to pass out any moment.” He walked over to his main workbench and opened a drawer. A slight smile formed when he pulled out a simple granola bar.
Peter watched his actions and almost recoiled at the sight of it. The compact oats with honey have at least 190 calories. He’s not an idiot; he’s seen Tony eat Nature Valley bars countless times while they work. Obviously, he can make a reasonable estimate if he’s allowed to eat them, and the obvious answer is no.
Tony walks over and holds out the snack. Peter blankly stares at it for a moment, weighing his options. Tony sighs and just puts it on the table next to Peter’s arm. “You don’t have to eat it, but it’ll be in your hands,” Tony reassures him and puts a comforting callous hand on his shoulder, smiling while he pats him before letting go and turning around to walk away.
“I’m going to grab myself a coffee from the kitchen really quick; you can start on your project from a week ago while I'm gone, alright?” Tony walks out and leaves him with his thoughts. Maybe not a great idea, but what if he needs space?
Peter gets up after grabbing the snack once he’s sure Tony is far away and can’t hear his movements. He moves to Tony’s main desk and opens the drawer with snacks and puts the granola bar back, not wanting to waste food, but also not wanting to ruin his progress and eat it.
Listening to what Tony said, he picked up where he left off with his project from last week, hoping it would be a good distraction. The soft whirring of machinery being the only sound around him helped calm his nerves surprisingly.
Upstairs, where Tony is looking around the kitchen for something to pass the time that he’s supposed to be making coffee and instead making a chlorophyll drink, he paces slightly. “Why’d I tell him I’m making coffee? He knows damn well I don’t drink coffee.” He mumbles to himself with a light, sarcastic tone behind the actual seriousness.
He gives Peter a bit more time alone while finding his laptop on the couch. Only then did he head back to the workshop once he had collected his own thoughts. Running a hand over his face as he tries to lighten up before walking in, so Peter won’t feel the need to be tense just because he senses Tony is upset or stressed.
The sound of the door opening to the workshop made Peter’s shoulder stiffen before he could stop it. Tony’s footsteps were delicate, too calm. The few moments of silence made Peter’s pulse quicken.
Tony walks back in and sees Peter slouched over whatever he’s tinkering with and notes that the granola bar seems to be gone. “Was it good?” Tony strikes up a conversation.
“Hm? Oh- yeah, Mr. Stark, thank you!” He responds without meeting his eyes. The guilt settles deep in his chest. What if he had eaten the snack? How much would it hurt to have a few calories in him?
Tony seemed to notice Peter spacing out and holding a wrench mid-air, and his brows scrunched as a slight frown appeared on his face. Either way, he decides to let the reaction slip for now and continues to work on a better case upgrade for his arc reactor.
Peter sat across from Tony, eyes focused on a screen and was now running random statistics to make sure Stark Industries wouldn’t fall apart, and Tony was putting together the base of his arc reactor.
A faint sound caught their attention. It sounded like a doorbell?
Tony is confused for a moment, but seems to jump right up once the dots connect. “Oh, Pete, I forgot to mention that there is a new worker who would be joining us today just to see how things work around here.” He drops the tools in his hand and straightens his shirt after getting up from his desk.
Peter hesitates but nods anyways. “Alright, uh, I’ll stay here, and you can bring them up?” It was weird Tony forgot, but he can't blame him after considering everything else the billionaire has to keep up with.
But one thing was off. His spider senses start blaring out of nowhere. He tries to call out to Tony, who’s feet away, but his body is frozen. He can’t move. Who the hell is here?
Tony walks out of the workshop, and a few moments later Peter can hear the front door being opened and then Tony greeting a man. The specific voice that came out of the man’s mouth was one he never wanted to hear again.
“I’m Anthony Stark, and you are?”
“Steven Westcott, but you can call me Skip.”