How Far We've Come

Chapter Two

"Hey, Ned?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel kinda sick." Peter burped. "Like, really sick."

Ned nodded, folding another piece of pizza in half and shoving it into his mouth. "Yeah, me too."

"Then why are you still eating?"

Ned shrugged, eyes glued to the slasher flick they were watching. Someone was stabbed on screen and the bright blood spray sent red flares dancing across Ned's eyes. Ned himself didn't react at all to the gore. "My soul is a void only filled by the talented cooking of Italian grandmothers."

Peter didn't say anything to that. In fact, he was a little disturbed.

He settled deeper into the couch, kneading his palms against his abdomen. Maybe he felt sick because he was worried about his dads. Maybe it was just because he ate two greasy pieces of pizza. Maybe... maybe... maybe?

It could be so many things.

He clutched his gurgling stomach harder and grimaced. His insides felt slimy and stiff all at once. His hands left damp patches on his clothes. His outside, his skin, like it was vibrating and above to slide off.

Shit.

He was panicking.

Why was he panicking?

"Hey, Ned- I'll, uh, I'll be right- give me a minute."

"Yeah, okay. I'll tell you what happened in the movie when you get back."

Peter murmured 'thanks' before sprinting up from the couch.

He kneeled in front of the toilet for ten whole minutes, fingers white-knuckled on the porcelain, as his breaths stuttered in and out. He felt like he was going to vomit everywhere but nothing was coming up. None of the telltale gagging or belching.

What was going on?

Usually, this was the point when Jarvis would kick in, ask him if he wanted one of his fathers. But Dad and Pops weren't here. They were jetting across the country, getting ready to or already fighting off bad guys in order to save the world.

Oh.

So maybe that was where some of the panic was coming from.

Because if something happened to his dads-

He would be just like he is right now. Maybe not sitting with his forehead resting on the (hopefully clean) rim of the toilet and his knees trembling against the tiled floor. Hopefully not.

But he would be all alone.

That was the thought that finally unsettled Peter's stomach enough for him to throw up.

Back at the couch, Ned heard what happened and grimaced.

"Pizza will do that to you sometimes," he lamented before taking another bite.

#

"So, we have little to no idea what we're looking for or what we're dealing with?" Tony asked. "We're infiltrating a base- one supported by military safety precautions and the deep pockets of a millionaire- and we don't even know why we're doing it?"

Steve sighed. "Tony-"

Clint leaned back in his seat, absently picking something out from under a fingernail with an arrow. "No, I'm with Tin Man. Why are we storming a base we're not even sure we have to?"

"I'm just confirming the facts." Tony waved a hand up. "No, wait, I'm sorry. I'm confirming the lack of facts." He nodded at the increasingly pale S.H.I.E.L.D agent. "Go on."

The agent nodded, his forehead damp and eyes deer-wide. The kid was maybe twenty-five and probably new to the job. Steve was more inclined to show compassion because of that.

Tony was more inclined to make sure this suicide mission didn't become a homicide mission.

"So, um, the base is set up- like this." The agent tapped at his tablet and a holographic layout of the area appeared level with their eyes. "It doesn't look like much, but that's because the majority of the structure is underground."

"Like a bunker?" Steve asked.

The agent snapped in relief. "Exactly like a bunker. A bunker where another super serum is being produced. Except, unlike you Mr. Rogers-"

"Stark-Rogers," Tony interrupted.

Natasha let loose a slew of Russian curses as Steve went burgundy.

"Uh, sorry, um, Mr. Stark-Rogers. The serum being produced is a bit more like Mr. Banner's than yours."

Just when they need the good old Green Giant, he's giving TedTalks somewhere in Scandinavia. The team was just the Stark-Rogers, Natasha, and Clint. Nothing to sniff at, but only a partial assembling of the Avengers.

"So... we do know what we're infiltrating the base over," Tony asked, dropping his elbows onto his knees.

"Um, kind of."

"Kid, you're gonna have to give me more than that."

The agent looked about ready to grab a backpack and jump from the plane. Anything to escape Tony's stare. "The serum isn't what we're after."

Steve knew getting irritated wouldn't do anything, just raise the already high tension to an astronomical level, but he himself was getting impatient. "What are we after? We can't get it or destroy it if we have no idea what we're looking for."

"A weapon," the agent said. "That's all we know. Some sort of weapon being produced in the same lab as the serum."

"You've got to be fucking kid-" Tony started.

"Great. This is just fucking great-" Clint continued.

Even Steve and Natasha weren't on board with the odds of this mission.

But two hours of strategizing and bitching later, all four of them were in the woods outside of the base, ready to attack.

"Don't do anything stupid, Tony," Steve cautioned, testing his grip on his shield with one hand as the other adjusted his cowl.

"Yeah, yeah, love you, too." Tony's faceplate snapped into place with an audible chink. "Alright, I'm ready to take this guy out and go home. Ready?"

Everyone affirmed.

On Steve's mark, they ran (or flew, in Tony's case) out from the cover of the trees.

If only they knew that the millionaire on the base, a little shit from Washington D.C. named Johnny Bech, was ready for them, too.

#

After successfully throwing up everything in his stomach, Peter wanted to just go to bed and talk to Jarvis. Maybe even fall asleep with the help of one of Steve's sleeping pills.

But he had invited Ned over for a movie night and he would be a bad friend if he let Ned sit out there all by himself.

Besides, now that his stomach was empty, he felt somewhat better. Maybe it had been the pizza after all.

He resolved to avoid it.

His time in the bathroom reminded him of two things: one, pizza wasn't healthy, wasn't good for him. Two, the new Peter Parker was going to be a superhero. Not just Spider-Man, saver of cats and dogs and half-blind old women crossing the street, but Spider-Man, newest Avenger.

And superheroes needed to be fit. Physically fit.

So Peter skipped the pizza, even an hour later, when his stomach cinched and yowled, begging for him to feed it.

Instead, Peter nestled further into the cushions and turned the volume up on the movie so Ned wouldn't hear the gurgles.