The Avengers' Spiderling

Spider-Baby (1/3)

"Hey. I didn't say anything, Bambino." The bed dipped at the weight of someone sitting down. "Now let's get the suit off before you get midnight snacks in here, yeah?"

"I don't eat b'gs, M'stew Stawk.", grumbled Peter as he forced himself to sit up, not noticing his Rs becoming Ws nor the look on Tony's face as he kept talking while struggling with his web-shooters and gloves. "Only ate...cw'ckets...and th't taw'ntula on a dawe fwom Clint...why awe these so difficult today?"

Two older, calloused hands came into view before he could use his fangs on the oddly stubborn pieces of tech and easily got both off...with a click of a button. Right. The safety release.

"Oh..." He felt his cheeks get hotter and not even the colder air of the room hitting them once his mask was off could help.

"You ate a tarantula? Isn't that cannibalism?", Tony asked as he tugged off his gloves for Peter.

"I d'n't weally think that counts but...I think the spidew that bit me was multiple spidew species. M'st eat each othew anyway." He started to work on the latches that kept his top attached to his bottoms, frowning at how difficult it was. Maybe he was just really tired. "She died befowe I could see hew closely and most spidews looked the same to me back th'n."

"That so?" Tony sounded a bit funny, like he was trying to hold his breath. That's probably not good for someone his age with his health conditions. "Having trouble there, kid?"

"Yes! I can't get my fwigging f'ngews...to...wowk..." Peter paused as his words finally registered, hesitantly looking up to find Tony squeezing his lips together as to not react. "H've I been talking like this the whole time?"

The man cleared his throat so he didn't laugh when he spoke, especially given Peter was pouting and very much not happy. "Not the whole time, but since you told me you didn't eat bugs. Adorable yet very concerning because you didn't have this speech impediment before."

"I'm n't suwe if this is bettew owe worwse th'n the othew victims...", Peter mumbled, looking back down at his top.

"Victims?", asked Tony as he helped with the latches. "What do you mean by that, Pete?"

"The villain who shot me huwt othew people and made them huwt othew people. They wewre..." Damn it. Words were getting more difficult the longer it's been. "They werwe b'd befowe but bettew th'n now? It made th'm...go back and fowget what they did."

"The villain hurt other people and made them hurt others? Go back and forget? So the 'criminals' were forced to hurt others by...making them go back to when they were bad then forget? Arms up." Tony's face scrunched up in confusion and concentration as he helped Peter out of his suit's top, the teen practically able to see the gears spinning in his head. "Does...the weapon force the victim's mind to regress to a past state and amplify it? Like a regression gun?"

"I think so? But 'm not weally suwe. I talked to the victims and looked in it, but I need mowe infowmation.", Peter answered with a yawn, rubbing his eye. "Mistew Stawk? 'm tired."

"I know, kid. Let's get you out of the rest of your suit and get you in some pajamas."

The two worked together to get the rest of his suit off, given Peter's dexterity at the moment, and got him into a set of soft clothes to sleep in. The whole thing made Peter realize he never considered how much easier it was to slip on his pajamas- or any clothes, really -than take off his suit.

Peter told Tony so as he curled up under his blanket, not really shocked at the laugh and agreement with the man. He even expected his curls being affectionately ruffled and being told to go to sleep if he was tired.