Peter didn't bother to open his eyes when he woke up, knowing he would only be sensitive to any and all light, and not wanting to deal with that while his body was already on fire, due to the bed, blankets, and pillows that would've been considered as comfortable, that now scraped against his skin roughly like sandpaper.
A hand landed on his shoulder, making the blankets rub against his skin and drawing a soft whimper of pain from him, the sound of the blanket shifting overwhelming to his senses.
"G-go—away," he breathed as quietly as he could, grimacing as his own breath thundered in his ears. "Please."
"Mr. Parker," said a robotic voice—though it, surprisingly, wasn't loud enough to irritate Peter's hearing, "Mr. Stark sent us to take care of you while you go through this... sickness?" it tried, though Peter could've laughed at it. Was this a sickness, or would it just be called 'the mutation process'?
"Cool, cool," Peter whispered, grimacing as pain flared up anew. "B-but I'm—good."
"Will you allow us to move you?"
Peter tried to open his eyes, then whimpered and immediately shut them, as even the smallest amount of light was too overwhelming. "W-will it hurt?"
"We are 90% sure we are capable of not inflicting pain upon you in your current state."
"Th-then fine."
Peter gasped in shock when the blankets were pulled away from him, leaving him cold shivering. He would've tried to curl up, if only the unbearable pain would just go away.
Then, startlingly, he felt himself being lifted up, but he couldn't feel what was picking him up. Odd, given that his sense of touch was probably the most overwhelming of all.
"W-woah, wait," he croaked, gasping sharply in pain as his voice echoed painfully in his head, "h-how are you doing that? I-I can't—f-feel you."
"We are programmed to deal with extreme sensory overloads."
Peter frowned. "A-are you an Iron L-Legion soldier?"
"We are." Then, Peter realized that he could feel the ILS's robot hands under him, but it was only providing a gentle warmth that was enough to warm him up, but low enough to keep from burning him, just warm enough to be unnoticeable. So, despite his discomfort, Peter let himself be manhandled, weakly resting his head against the ILS's shoulder.
If he was being honest, Peter wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting the ILS's would do, but he wasn't expecting to be bathed in pitch blackness, the quiet hiss of some sort of chamber opening, then closing after they'd... descended?
Peter tried opening his eyes, and was overwhelmingly grateful to see nothing, and hear nothing.
Yet two more overwhelming senses eliminated.
Shuddering in relief, Peter relaxed with a sigh, now curious as to how the release of air was swallowed by the darkness, despite the pain (not induced by his senses) still crawling through his body.
It was like they were gliding downwards, and while Peter could've enjoyed the feeling of being weightless for a long time, the slope eventually evened out, and then he was swaying from side to side, still floating against gravity, until the ILS stopped moving, and Peter was laid down on something so freaking soft, he practically melted into it with a groan the moment he touched it.
"Are you hungry?"
"Sure."
*****
Peter wasn't sure how comfortable he should be with the robots coddling him, or if it was okay how much he was enjoying it, but he was. He really was thoroughly enjoying the fact that he didn't have to anything for himself, and that all he had to do was sleep, let the ILS's do whatever he wanted, and wake up so they could feed him whenever he got even remotely hungry, even in his sleep.
If he was being fully honest, he felt like a baby, and was embarrassed by it, but it wasn't like anyone was watching or judging him.
So, he slept off the pain of his body changing again.
In this room, there was no time, which meant the only way he could tell how long he'd been asleep was when he groggily asked the ILS's what time and day it was.
He slept on and off for two days straight, until the pain that came with waking up finally faded—fully.
*****
"Do you think he's okay?" Hope asked anxiously, wringing her hands with Ned sitting beside her.
"I know he's okay," May said from her spot in the kitchen, calmly making lunch for the two teenagers.
"Really? How? No one's seen him in two days! What if he's got hurt? He doesn't have his powers anymore, so how's he supposed to keep defending himself as easily as before?"
May glanced at Hope, then set down her butter knife with a sigh. "You wanna know a secret?"
"What?" Ned asked, frowning.
"Peter never actually left the Compound."
"What?" Both teens stood up.
"He's just been in a secret chamber in his room. Tony didn't want anyone to try and bother him, so neither of us have told anyone. He's alright, the Iron Legion soldiers are taking care of him for these past few days. We don't have a camera in the room, so we don't have real time footage, but the suits do come up and give us updates on his condition."
"Condition? What do you mean by that?" Hope asked, frowning.
May pursed her lips, hesitating for a moment. "Well, um... So, he lost his powers, right?"
"Right...?"
"Well... I'm going to spare you the details, mostly because I don't know the details myself, but Peter's powers... are coming back."
Now both Hope and Ned were very confused.
"I think the radioactive blood was, like, trapped somewhere, and then something happened, and it was released, and now he has to go through the whole physical change process. It's really uncomfortable, from what I've gathered, so Tony sent a couple Iron Legion soldiers to take care of him until he's okay again."
Ned frowned. "How long do you think it'll take?"
May shrugged. "I don't know," she sighed, "Last time, it took four, maybe five days."
"He'll be out for five days?" Hope asked, deflating with disappointment.
"I don't know. Could be less than that." She smirked. "You miss him?"
At the words, Hope blushed and looked away. "Well, y-yeah. I already haven't seen him in a week, and we just got together."
"Who just got together?" asked a tired, noticeably quieter voice. It made the trio whirl around to see Peter, leaning against an Iron Legion suit exhaustedly. He looked awful, with bags under his eyes (despite all the sleep he'd gotten), and he looked paler than usual, his nose and eyes slightly red.
"Peter!" Hope gasped, jumping up and running over to hug him. "Are you okay? You look awful."
"One, please, shh. Two, wow, thanks for the compliment," Peter said sarcastically, rolling his eyes but accepting the hug, leaning against her slightly.
"Well, she's not lying," Ned said, toning his volume down too, coming over to hug Peter as well.
"Yeah, I get that," he sighed, accepting the hug from his friend as well. "And it doesn't even make any sense! Like, I was sleeping half the time, and I look like I haven't slept in weeks!" he whined, pulling away.
"So, are you, like, okay now? Or do you need something?"
Peter shrugged. "I good. I'm just adjusting now, to be honest."
"Adjusting?" Hope frowned, making Peter nod.
"Yeah. My senses are still sort of wacko, so I'm dialed up to a fourteen, instead of an eleven like I normally was, if you know what I mean. It used to be really bad, but it's better. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get used to super strength—and it's like I have to relearn how to not stick to everything I touch!" He shook his head, looking vaguely annoyed at himself. "I've had to unstick myself from the floor ten times just to get over here. And, I almost broke off the door handle."
"It is true," provided the Iron Legion suit, which had Ned and Hope grinning like they were about to laugh.
"Did the robots take care of you okay?" May asked, finishing up what she was doing, then washing her hands to come over and hug Peter too.
Peter nodded again. "Oh yeah. It was really nice." He paused, then frowned. "Where's d—er, Mr. Stark?" He glanced around, looking for the billionaire. "Is he here? I should probably thank him."
"He's at work right now, but we've just made some lunch. You hungry?"
"No, I'm okay. I'll hang out, though."
May smiled. "Then hang out it is."
That's how they found themselves at the table, Hope, Ned, and May eating lunch, while Peter rested arms on the desk, his chin resting on his hands like some bored student during a lecture. The ILS that had been caring for him just standing in the corner protectively like a bodyguard.
"... what was it like?" Ned was asking Peter eagerly. "Did it hurt?"
Peter groaned, pressing his forehead to his arms, "Dude, it sucked. Like, you literally cannot fathom how much it sucked."
"Does it still hurt?"
"Well—" he paused, looking up and frowning at nothing at all as he did a mental once-over of his body, taking in his condition, "—it doesn't hurt, necessarily. It aches, yeah, but that'll probably be gone by tomorrow."
"And you'll be good as new?" Ned asked hopefully.
"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine. I just have to, like, get used to being part spider again."
"Do you miss being normal?" Hope asked.
"Define normal," Peter said warily, "Because 'normal', as in before the original bite, was a sickly, asthmatic, scrawny kid. After the bite, and after the apocalypse 'normal' was just like your everyday football player."
"Everyday football player 'normal.'"
Peter took in a breath, unsure how to answer. "Everything's sorta happened so fast, so I don't know if I'm really qualified to answer that. Like, I'll miss being able to eat garlic, sure, but it also feels real good to be back. That never really affected me before anyway, so it's not like a major change."
"But did you like it, while you were normal?"
"Eh..." Peter shrugged, "I think I was too busy missing my powers to really... y'know, notice." He shook his head and shifted into a more comfortable position. "So what's been going on with you guys while I was under?"
"Not much," May said. "Lots of worrying about you, tension between Tony and the Rogues, and, like, eight dozen visitors a day."
"Visitors?" Peter frowned. "For who?"
Hope smacked her forehead. "For you, dum-dum. People from all around the world with lots of gifts and stuff. You're internationally famous ever since that footage came out."
Peter deflated, brows knitting together as he let out a sigh. "I wish they'd keep that stuff for themselves," he grumbled. "I wasn't looking for fame, and I don't really need a lot of stuff, and they're giving up lots of stuff, whether or not it's important. They could've used whatever stuff they used to get the presents to me on themselves."
"What do you mean?" May asked.
"I mean, like homeless people, poor people, if there're any of those people hanging around with stuff to give me, they could've used the money they used to buy the stuff for themselves. Or, if they made the stuff themselves, they could've used those resources to sell the thing for money." He shrugged. "I don't know, I just... don't really want all of it. It's touching, it really is, but I don't... want stuff."
"We understand," Hope said, reaching over and touching his hand gently. They shot small smiles at each other, before a door opening caught their attention.
Tony Stark walked through the door, looking at his phone and weaving around furniture to get to the kitchen.
"Mr. Stark!" Peter said, smile widening, and lighting up when Tony looked up at him.
"Oh! Hey, kiddo. You feeling better now?" the billionaire asked pleasantly.
Peter stood to go hug him, but found it impossible to lift his feet, almost making him fall over himself as he groaned in annoyance. "Great. Not again."
Tony laughed, walking over to give a hug to the struggling teen. "You good?"
"Darn—sticky—feet," Peter said, tugging at his feet. He took a breath and shook his head. "Relax, Parker," he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes before patiently trying again. This time, his foot came up, followed by the other.
"Do you have to think that to yourself every single time you want to unstick from something?" Tony teased, mimicking Peter crawling through something. "Unstick, stick, unstick, stick, unstick, stick—"
Peter laughed, batting the billionaire away, "No, I don't do that all the time."
"Right." Tony moved away to sit across from Peter's chair on the opposite side of the table, and plopped down in his ownchair with a groan.
"I thought you were at work, Mr. Stark, what happened to that?"
"'Work' is a very broad term. Meetings to get the world back in order as an Avenger? Yes. Brewing up the latest batch of Stark Phones as part of SI? No. But yeah, I was at a meeting just now, and we ended a little earlier than expected." He leaned back in his chair. "How's your back, kid?"
"My—oh! Right, um... it's-it's doing good."
"Really? Is it healed?"
"I... don't know, I haven't checked."
"Mr. Parker is fully healed," Peter's ILS supplied, ramrod straight behind Peter's chair.
"O-oh. Right. Um, Mr. Stark?"
"What's up?"
"That was my question. What's up with this guy?" Peter jerked his thumb back at the ILS. "Is it, like, some body guard now?"
Tony shrugged. "Well, seeing as you've continuously been in trouble the past few weeks, it technically is, until everything calms down."
"Oh," Peter said, relaxing into his seat.
"By 'calm down', I mean when you don't have fans swarming my gates anymore. People from all over are coming to give you gifts."
Peter deflated. "Sorry. I—"
"Don't apologize, it's not your fault," Tony cut him off. "If I were you, I would just accept it, because I don't think there's anything you can do to get them to stop giving presents." Tony leaned forward, clasping his hands and bracing his arms on the table as he fixed Peter with a stare. "It's actually uniting the world, if you look around. People from all over—enemies and allies alike—are coming to pay tribute to you, show appreciation for you, and that's bonding them. You are a link, a common interest. I wouldn't stop that."
Peter, a little intimidated now, pressed himself into his chair, gaping back at his mentor.
"Why don't you show him?" May suggested quietly.
Tony looked at her.
"Show me what?" Peter asked, swallowing and licking his lips uncomfortably.
"There's..." Tony took a breath. "All the stuff they're giving you, it's all locked in a big room, ready and waiting for you to use. Dozens of the people that have stopped by keep giving messages and gifts, and some of them are... touching." He stood, and motioned for everyone to follow. "Your aunt's right. I'll just show you."