Believer

6. Stress

"Dear Stress, let's break up."

Peter wasn't sure how he managed to fall asleep, although it certainly didn't make him feel rested. He was glad his lights were still off, but he could hear everyone in the kitchen, thunderously loud. He could hear their breathing. Not good. Very not good.

Suddenly, Peter heard the dreaded sounds. Footsteps were coming down the hallway, in his direction. Every footfall felt like a blow to the head. He knew it was Tony from the breathing that he heard grating in his ears. Hearing and sight were often the worst, seconds only to touch. When it came to sensory overload, any touch, any tiny amount of pain, was amplified to a near crippling degree.

Tony opened the door, exposing Peter to the burning, screaming light of the hallway. Peter burrowed into his blankets with a groan, not that it did much to help as the cotton of his sheets felt like it was scraping his skin off, but it did hide his pained expression from Tony.

"Morning, kid." Tony announced, his voice like cymbals bashing Peter upside the head. Tony watched in confusion as Peter seemed to stiffen as if uncomfortable. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, moving to switch on the lights. The movement sent a spike of danger into Peter's spidey sense, making them go off with an alarming amount of pain in his head.

There it was, the number 1 most painful sense. Spidey sense.

"Fine!" Peter managed to bark before Tony turned on the light and ruined Peter's cover. The blast of brightness definitely would've made Peter scream or scramble under the bed. That might've been a bit suspicious. "Just... stayed up too late."

"Again?" Tony growled, missing the flinch from Peter at his voice. Why couldn't Tony just leave? Peter really just wanted to curl up in a corner until it was over. He hoped it didn't last the whole week. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I was just so excited..." Peter trailed off, his ability to communicate increasinly hindered by the amount of stress on his body.

"Alright, well you still don't get to sleep in. Your punishment is having to suffer the day half asleep. Up and at 'em!" Tony insisted, and Peter forced himself not to pass out. Focus. You can do this. You're Spider-man for crying out loud! Not some whiney teenager! With that thought literally ringing in his head, Peter forced himself to sit up.

"Sure, seems fair." He drawled, no humor in the could-be sarcastic comment. "Just... lemme get dressed." He slurred, Tony swimming in and out of vision. One minute he could see every wrinkle on Tony's face, the next he couldn't tell the man from the door. Do not throw up. You are not going to throw up.

"Ok, don't miss breakfast." Tony demanded, shutting the door with the force of the Hulk tearing a building out of the ground. Peter shuddered from it, his body no longer having to hold itself together now that no one was watching.

Peter struggled to his feet, visibly shaking, and moved to his closet. He was already anticipating the pain of denim on his legs, but went for a soft linen tee shirt to try to make it easier on himself. Getting dressed, Peter braced himself, before slowly opening the door.

The light burned every inch of him it touched, and he had to close his eyes to adjust. Finally, he was able to step slowly into the hallway with none of his usual pep. The closer he got to the voices swimming in the kitcehn, the worse it got. Finally, he had to lean against the wall and take several breaths.

He couldn't do this.

He had to do this.

Peeling himself off the wall, Peter took another step forward. And instantly fell on his face.