Air I Breathe

Chapter 1

It's the same fight all over again
It's the same bite breaking on my skin
It's the same light when you let me in
You let me in you let me in
You are the air I breathe
-"Air I Breathe" by Mat Kearney

Chapter 1
Friday, December 20

Peter's StarkWatch vibrates on his wrist just as Mrs. Benninger, his chemistry teacher, deigns to claim that CATions are PAWS-itive in a last-ditch effort to make the topic even more cringe worthy than it already is. He stifles a laugh, which quickly becomes a short series of coughs, curses this stupid cold he has, and waits for Mrs. Benninger to have her back to the class to look at his message.

FRIDAY says your heart rate's been high, Tony texts. You okay, kiddo?

He closes his eyes and tries to think of a response.

Truth is, his lungs feel like they're filling with thick, heavy sludge. It's been like this for a few days, but he's brushed it off as indoor allergies since his school was built in the early 1800s and probably has dust from then lurking in the shadows. It wasn't that bad until he ran for the subway this morning, the chilled December air causing his lungs to seize before forcing honking, choking coughs that left Peter leaning against a random brick building taking puffs from his rescue inhaler. He hasn't had to use it in a few weeks, but he has an awful, nagging feeling that this morning was only the beginning of another downward spiral.

Karen, his AI, has been sending him high heart rate alerts all day, and now he knows that Tony's been getting them, too. At first, he thought maybe it was the two large coffees and the inhaler, but then he'd hit 140 after he had run up from four floors and was subsequently late to his trig class because he couldn't get the coughing to stop. Cheeks red and eyes watering, he went into the bathroom to wash his face, take his inhaler, and calm his breathing down. It had taken nearly 15 minutes, and he'd had to lie and chalk it up to a stomachache to avoid getting detention.

It's not until now, in his chem classroom which has always been a few degrees below Antarctica, that he thinks he might have a fever. He had an inkling earlier, when Ned, who is never cold, was bundled up in English class and Peter felt like he was sitting on the surface of the sun, but Karen hasn't alerted to a fever, so he'd shrugged and pulled his sweatshirt off. He's been holding out on going to the nurse or calling home because there's only three periods of school left before MJ's Christmas party at her apartment in Chelsea, and Peter has been looking forward to this for weeks. He's got an ugly Christmas sweater ready to go, one that reads "Tis the Season to Be Amazing" with Spiderman hanging upside down by his web shooters. It was going to be his conversation starter, the lead-in to telling MJ just how amazing she is and much he likes her. Tonight needs to happen. Has to happen, because Tony is having a New Year's Eve party in a week's time and Peter is planning on kissing MJ at midnight.

With her permission, of course.

But he can't get her permission if he doesn't have the chance to tell her how he feels and invite her. He's already planned to take a quick nap, dose up on Dayquil, and catch the subway to be there by 7. It's just a cold, after all.

He feels his StarkWatch vibrate again, but this time it's Karen. Peter, you currently have a fever of 102.4. Shit. He rubs at his chest, which is feeling kind of funny, and sniffles to keep his nose from running all over his note packet. His pencil rolls off of the desk and it takes him a moment to register that it's hit the tile.

"Peter?" he hears MJ whisper from the seat beside him as she tries to push his pencil on the floor toward him with her foot. "You don't look so hot." And Peter would laugh if he could, because he's definitely burning up and sweating through his t-shirt in late December, but right now he's feeling like he's stuck in his own webbing, his muscles tight and sluggish as he tries to get his body to cooperate and react.