Filling In

𝐒 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄 𝐍: more

The following month, Pietro could no longer fit through the doorway to his room, or up and down the stairs. Not only could he not fit anymore, but he would be beyond exhausted and out of breath going up only two steps, let alone an entire staircase. Pietro was getting exhausted from simply lifting his feet now. Being so fat meant that he used a lot of energy, even doing the small things. These days, Pietro does his best not to move if he doesn't need to.

Having moved into the old sun room, after Clint cleaned it up and expanded the doorway, Pietro was now about 10 steps away from the kitchen. Moving him downstairs was the best and worse thing to happen. The best, because no walls would need to be broken to get Pietro out of his room, he wouldn't get stuck in the stairwell, and there was no more worry he'd fall through the floor if he fell. However, it was the worst because, now he had easier access to the food, and he was getting even lazier. It was also bad for the Barton's furniture. Any wooden chairs he sat on, snapped, and he even bent a steel bench that Clint had made. His weight was out of control.

—

Sitting on his bed, food wrappers surrounding him, Pietro was mentally and physically preparing himself for the short walk to the kitchen. Once he was there, after what felt like a marathons worth of exercise, Pietro is grabbing an armful of more snacks, and some drinks, to keep him busy between meal times. He'd somehow managed to convince Laura to bring him his food in bed. Less chairs would break that way, and it was just easier on everyone, considering the amount, and speed of which he ate at.

Pietro's days were consumed with endless eating, and thinking. He had so many thoughts. Most of the time, being this size didn't bother him, or matter much to him, but on occasion, he'd think of how things could've been different.

However, the idea of being an avenger wasn't too thrilling to him anymore. The team was constantly risking their lives, and since Pietro had been at deaths door already, he really didn't want to revisit that. Domesticated life was more his speed these days. And he needed to be okay with that. Maybe one day, he'd pick running back up. Today just wasn't one of those days. A constant theme, it seemed.

—

Following a week or so later, Pietro had his one year post op / post injury check up. It was hard to believe that it had already been a year since it all happened. He was double, no— triple, the man he once was. Pietro knew his doctor would be shocked, and truthfully, he wasn't even sure what he'd say to the impending questions. There really was no explanation other than he fell into his own greed and gluttony. Simple as is.

Once he was called, Pietro is following the nurse back into an exam room, getting his vitals done, and his weight checked.

Oh boy.

Not even bothering to look down, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see the numbers or his feet anyways, Pietro just sighed, waiting for the nurse to scribble down the number. She didn't tell him, of course, but he was sure he'd hear from the doctor.

If Pietro had to guess, he was maybe around 550? But, he wasn't entirely sure. There was no point in tracking his weight when it would change drastically anyways. The amount of food he ate within a day, could sustain a small army for months. It was partially embarrassing, and all too addicting.

Soon enough, the doctor came in, greeting Pietro, going over the basics. He asked how his recovery went, if he still had pain, and checked to see how well the bullet holes had healed. All seemed to be well, which Pietro was thankful for.

Then, of course, his weight came up.

"So." the doctor started, clearing his throat slightly. "608 pounds, and 5 ounces..." he said, looking down at the number on the chart, and then looking up to Pietro.

A small, uncomfortable laugh came from Pietro's lips as he nervously scratched the back of his head. What could he say? He wasn't sure. So instead, he's simply patting his stomach, that same laugh returning.

"You know there are risks associated with being this size, and health complications, right?" The doctor asked, nodding slowly.

"Yes.." Pietro squeaked out quietly, sighing heavily. He wasn't dumb. Being this size was ridiculous, he knew that.

"But, based off of your tests, and bloodwork, you're somehow okay with all of that weight." The doctor shrugged, looking up at him, a blank expression on his face. Pietro was shocked.

must've been a result from the mind stone...?

Pietro thought to himself, nodding along with the doctor. Boggling.

—

When Pietro got home, he was met with a surprise party being thrown for his successful recovery. His signature big and toothy smile grew on his face, and his heart was overcome with joy.

Of course, there was plenty of food which Pietro took no time in wasting. He kept eating and eating, the only words people remember hearing from him that night were "more."

More pizza. More cookies. More pie. More ice cream.

More. More. More. More.