The Devil With The Face of an Angel | Irondad, pepperony

Chapter 19

Peter stared at the mug he was holding, trying not to panic. In fact, he did not hold him at all. No, he actually had the mug glued to his hand in some mysterious way. He just wanted a drink and this happened!

"Uh, Mom? Could you please take the mug?" he asked in a relatively calm voice, holding out his hand with the mug. Pepper looked at him with a question in her eyes, but still grabbed the mug, but it didn't move at all.

"Honey, you have to let go of the mug, if you want me to take it," she told him, and Peter was really beginning to panic now.

"But I'm not holding it!" he yelled.

"What do you mean you're not holding it?" Pepper asked, puzzled, and only now she had looked at the mug that her son wasn't really holding.

"I'm broken," he murmured in fear, and Pepper's heart clenched in pain. Why did her family still have to suffer so much?

"Don't say that, why would you be broken? That's not true," she said affectionately, still trying to separate the mug from his hand.

"I'm broken. I have stupid mutagenic enzymes in me," he panicked, tears accumulating in his eyes.

"Tony!" she shouted at her boyfriend. Peter had a panic attack, and Tony was the best chance to get him out of it.

"What is it? What's happening?" he blurted as he ran into the kitchen.

"Peter has a panic attack," she replied, stepping aside to give her boys some space.

It was only when Peter calmed down, realizing that she was holding a mug in her hand that caused this situation.

•••

After the debacle with the mug, his parents decided it would be better for him to stay home for a few days. At least until he found out what was different with him. Peter wasn't exactly thrilled about it. He felt terrible.

He tried to distract himself with his beloved Star Wars movie marathon, but the television was so terribly noisy. It didn't matter how much he lowered it. It was still too loud and his ears hurt. He lowered the volume until it came to zero. Annoyed by the situation, he turned off the television and reached for the book. But when he wasn't bothered by the sound, the light began to bother him for a change. He closed the book angrily and buried his head on the couch.

He tried to remember what had happened on the excursion that he had become this. The problem with the noise came back, but this time it was worse. His ears were fizzing. And then rhythmic hits began to sound.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

"How are you, kid?"

"Oh my God. Why are you yelling so much?" he asked his father, who had joined him on the couch. He did not lift his head, however, because the light still bothered him too much.

"But I didn't shout at all. Are you okay?" he asked carefully, reaching for his shoulder, which was the last straw for him. At other times, so comforting gesture for him was absolutely unbearable right now.

"I think my senses have just risen to eleven. Everything is too much," he tried to explain. Why did this have to happen to him?

•••

"How is he?" Pepper asked worriedly as Tony returned from Peter's room. He called her and described what had happened. Pepper immediately canceled the upcoming meetings and returned home. She couldn't work when their little boy suffered so much.

"He's been asleep for about two hours now, so hopefully better," Tony sighed, kissing her cheek before going to the coffee machine.

"So what? His senses are improved?" she asked. She was no genius, but she needed to know what was going on with their son.