Outnumbered

Chapter 12

Their trip to California comes before Peter's sure he's ready.

Not that one could ever truly be ready to present and defend their work at NASA.

He's done his best to keep his blood sugar from rollercoasting on the flight, after their rooftop celebratory dinner the night before at a beachfront restaurant in Malibu, and now, the morning of the meeting at JPL, but the nerves are getting to him and his blood sugar is running higher than he'd like it to be.

That, and he's just dropped a full vial of unopened insulin on the kitchen floor of Tony's Cali house, the glass now shattered and liquid pooling on the tile.

The sixth most expensive liquid in the world.

"Hey, slow down, kiddo," Tony says softly, a hand on Peter's arm. The smell of bandaids and alcohol wipes fills the room.

Peter bends down to reach for the shards of glass. "Shit! I-I'm sorry, I'm s-so nervous-"

"It happens," Tony says, pulling Peter away from the mess and into a chair at the kitchen island. "FRIDAY, have the bots clean this up, please."

"Of course, Sir," she replies. Small, motorized bots that look like mini-Roombas fill the area, sucking up the glass and liquid, cleaning the area in seconds.

But all that Peter can see in his head as he watches Tony grab a new vial from the fridge is dollar signs. $300 times two vials... May would've never been able to afford this...

"Stop worrying about the price tag," Tony says knowingly. "You'll never have to worry about paying for your supplies, Peter. I've made sure of it. It was one of the first things May and I discussed after you were diagnosed."

"But other people can't always afford their insulin or supplies, so when things like this happen, I feel really awful." He sighs, fiddles with the new cartridge they're about to put into his pump. "I know that I cost you and May a lot of money."

"Insulin affordability is a serious issue, and yes, your supplies cost a lot of money, not you, kiddo. We'll just be more careful next time. Accidents happen. Responsibility is important, but getting crazy about things we can't control aren't going to get us anywhere good."

Tony said some version of that when Peter forgot to put his pump back on, but it hadn't exactly made Peter feel any better about fucking up.

Because what if one day he makes a mistake he can't quickly recover from?

Diabetes is the only disease he knows of where patients are making their own dosing decisions with a lifesaving but also potentially deadly medication multiple times a day.

Five months ago, he wouldn't have been able to tell one unit of insulin from five, and now he's expected to troubleshoot a myriad of complex situations and calculations with accuracy.

There's still so much he doesn't know about this disease yet.

"It wouldn't have been an accident if I'd been paying better attention," he chastises, nervously running his fingers through his hair. "I'm a little lost in my head today."

"That's to be expected. Not every day you get to meet at NASA," Tony assures him.

"Sir, a Google search indicates that there are silicone vial protectors for purchase online," FRIDAY interrupts. "Would you like me to complete a rush order?"

"That would be great, FRIDAY. Thanks," Tony answers.

"Purchase complete."

"I can't tell if I smell like insulin now or if it's just in my nose." Peter covers his face, groans. "It's throwing my Spidey senses off. I really really really hate this, Tony. I want a break so badly. Today was supposed to be a good day." He can hear it in his own voice, how it's cracking, how he's close to tears even though what happened would probably seem small to someone who doesn't understand, who doesn't deal with this stupid disease every day. $300 per vial... Fuck. He's sure Tony doesn't pay that, since they've got insurance, but still. Other people aren't as lucky as he is, and he's constantly reminded of this fact when he sees the bill that comes with every supply delivery. He's crunched the numbers.