Peter and Tony One Shots

Eating's Only Part of the Challenge- Part 1/2

Hey! Sorry it's been so long, I'm back now! ⚠️Eating disorder trigger warning⚠️
****************************************************************************************************Peter's POV***
I picked at the skin around my wrist as my mind wandered back to, yet again, food. I hadn't eaten a proper meal in days, surviving on water and mint chewing gum, but, thankfully, no one had noticed. "Peter! Dinner!" I heard my dad yell and I groaned silently. The smell of food always made me nauseous. "Coming!" I shouted back as I grabbed my large black jumper and put it on.
     When I arrived in the kitchen, there were ten other people already seated and tucking in to huge dishes of spaghetti. "Hey Peter," my Aunty Natasha greeted me with a smile. I smiled back at her and took my place next to my Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky. "Dad, this looks amazing." I told him earnestly but he just laughed. "Come on, kid, I didn't make it. You have Wanda to thank for it." I laughed a long with him and followed his instructions of complimenting the chef. I picked up my fork and twirled some pasta onto it, immediately feeling my stomach begin to churn. Feeling regret in the pit of my stomach I remembered the promise I made to myself six months ago, as I began to slip the slimy spaghetti into my hoodie pocket.
     "Woah, Pete, you were hungry," Nat remarked and I just shrugged.
"Thanks for dinner, guys." I replied, kicking back my chair and running to my room. I tipped the contents of my pockets into the bin and collapsed against my bathroom door, tears in my eyes. "I have to be perfect, for my family." I whispered, the cold chilling me to the bone. My cracked lips begged for water but I was too tired to listen. With baggy eyes, I rolled into bed and fell fast asleep.

***Bruce's POV***
Something was seriously wrong with Peter. It was beyond obvious. Yet, I was the only one who had seemed to notice anything. He hadn't been himself in months. I saw the way he looked at food. The way he carried around that stupid journal which was filled with tiny numbers that everyone figured was maths homework, but was obviously his daily calorie count. I knew I had to do something, I knew I had to otherwise I didn't know how much more his heart could stand. And, with that last thought, I rose to my feet, unlocked my bedroom door and headed across the halls to have a chat with Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark