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Tony Stark loves to learn. That’s no secret. Sometimes he’ll sit down and learn a new skill for fun (like when he learned how to play the bagpipes), out of necessity (when he built his mini arc reactor, in a cave no less) out of spite (when he created a new freaking element), or just because (when he mastered thermonuclear astrophysics in one night. He didn’t really have to, but he made a great first impression on Bruce because of it).
Yeah, everyone knows that Tony Stark loves to learn. And lucky for him, he’s always learning something new about Peter Parker.
Well, maybe it’s not always so lucky.
“I didn’t know you were so bad at baking, Mr. Stark.” Peter giggled as Rhodey went on about the time Tony had tried baking a cake for Rhodey’s birthday years ago. Baking. The one skill he’s never quite been able to master. Tony tossed a cloud of flour in both Peter and Rhodey’s direction, their laughter rising over I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas as he did so.
“I baked that monstrosity of a cake with all the love in my heart and you know it, Rhodes.” Tony shot back, chuckling himself at the memory. It was a terribly awful cake.
“Still the best birthday present you’ve ever gotten me.” Rhodey smiled as he continued teaching Peter how the cookie press worked. A timer chimed and Tony stood to pull a sheet of cookies out of the oven. He set the tray down to cool just as Pepper walked in, grocery bags in hand and snow melting in her hair. She walked up to Tony and kissed him on the cheek, giggling at the flour all over the kitchen.
“You know I’m not cleaning all this up, right?” She said as she set the bags down on the counter and began taking her gloves and scarf off. Tony nodded, helping her pull the scarf from around her neck, pulling her into another kiss. “Of course not.” Tony spoke against her cool lips. “As trophy wife it is my sole responsibility to keep the house in order.” Tony bent down to expose Pepper’s ever growing belly, covering it in kisses. Pepper giggled, rolling her eyes.
“As it should be.” She replied. Rhodey cleared his throat loudly, causing Pepper and Tony to break apart. Tony chuckled when he saw his friend covering Peter’s eyes with one flour covered hand.
“Do I need to remind you two that we have a kid here?” He asked as Peter groaned. “Get back to work, Tony. These cookies aren’t gonna bake themselves.” It was Pepper’s turn to chuckle as Tony bowed towards Rhodey in compliance. As Pepper went about preparations for that evening’s turkey dinner and Tony began moving the golden brown cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack, all he could think about was how happy he was in this moment.
Unfortunately, as per usual, the happy moment didn’t last.
The Compound kitchen had gone from the baking zone to the cooking zone, as Pepper, now joined by Bruce, prepared the various dishes for their Christmas dinner. Rhodey, Peter, and Tony, were all sitting on the large couch in the common area just off of the kitchen, watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and the Island of the Misfit Toys.
Tony was sat in between Rhodey and Peter, the latter leaning against his chest, having his curls played with absent mindedly. They had all been chowing down on cookies despite Bruce and Pepper’s warnings that their appetites would be ruined, but as the movie went on, Tony and Rhodey both noticed how increasingly uncomfortable Peter seemed. He kept clearing his throat and swallowing, and couldn’t seem to sit still.
“You have a few too many cookies, Pete?” Tony asked, concerned when Peter sat up from his embrace. Peter leaned forward and coughed into his hand.
“My throat—” He coughed again forcefully. “My throat really hurts.” It sounded like it did, too. His voice was hoarse, and Tony noticed how Peter strained as he spoke. Tony sat up to place his hand on Peter’s back, Rhodey following suit.
Rhodey moved off the couch to crouch in front of Peter to get a bitter look at him. Peter was holding his hands up to his mouth, his eyes screwed shut in pain. Rhodey gently placed one hand on his bouncing knee, not to make it still, but to let him know he was there.
He reached up to pull Peter’s hands away from his mouth, offering a calm “Let me take a look.” only to find that he was drooling into his hand, seemingly unable to close his mouth. Tony instantly reached for the box of tissues on the side table, pulling out a few and handing them to Peter. As he did, he noticed how raw and red the palms of his hands were, like they had been badly burned.
“Pete, what’s going on?” Tony asked, trying to mask the worry in his tone. Peter’s breathing became more desperate and erratic, and Rhodey called for Bruce as he and Tony tried wiping Peter’s hands of his bloody saliva. Peter whimpered as they did so.
"Ngh.. hurts…” He forced out, Bruce now taking a knee next to Rhodey. “I.. I-I don’t.. I’m…” Peter tried. Tony put his hand on the back of Peter’s neck, feeling for a fever. And boy, did he find one, Peter was boiling. He coughed again, blood spewing onto the tissues in his hands. Pepper walked into the room drying her hands with a towel. She exchanged a confused and concerned look with Tony, who looked up to the ceiling for answers.
“Fri, what’s going on?” Tony asked as Bruce tried asking Peter the same question. Tony was so confused, the kid had been fine, more than fine, barely half an hour ago. How had things turned so quickly?
“It appears Mr. Parker is experiencing symptoms similar to hydrochloric acid poisoning.” The AI replied. Confused looks were shared around Peter.
“The only place we have hydrochloric acid is down in the lab, but Peter hasn’t been down there all day.” Tony explained. Peter moaned next to him, breathing heavily. “How the hell did this happen?”
“The reaction seems to be in response to peppermint, boss.” Friday supplied. “Peppermint is known to repel spiders, and can be lethal in large quantities.” Rhodey’s eyes went wide.
“There’s peppermint oil in the spritz cookies.” Rhodey recalled. “The dough, Peter was helping me make them, he was handling it.”
“And he ate a lot of them, too..” Bruce finished. Before anyone could say anything more, Peter’s eyes shot open and a coffee ground like substance came up out of his mouth. He began retching weakly, Tony and Rhodey now needing to hold him up so he wouldn’t fall forward. Bruce made worried eye contact with Tony. “He’s bleeding through his stomach.” Bruce called out, urgently. “We need to get him to the med bay. Now.”
Tony went to pick Peter up, but knew that if he picked him up with his head tilted back he could choke on his own puke. He opted instead for pulling Peter close to his chest, and scooping him up with one arm, securing his head and neck with his other, as if he was carrying a small child. Peter groaned at the action, but thankfully was still lucid enough to wrap his arms around Tony’s neck. Tony did his best to ignore the feeling of vomit sliding down his back as he followed Rhodey and Bruce to the med bay, comforting Peter the whole way there.
“Friday, contact Dr. Cho, tell her it’s urgent.” Bruce called out as the four entered the private medical wing of the compound. He and Rhodey went about waking up the equipment as Tony put Peter on the hospital bed as carefully as he could. Rhodey brought over a garbage can for Peter, who was still vomiting, which Tony held under his chin. Tony brushed Peter’s sweaty curls away from his face as he coughed once again. He looked like he was fading fast.
“Bruce?” Helen’s voice came through the ceiling. She sounded irritated. “What is so urgent that you had to interrupt my meeting?” Peter took a gasping breath, and Tony knew his airways were starting to close up.
“It’s Peter.” Tony called out. “He ingested peppermint oil, and it’s not sitting so well with his spider DNA.” Helen was silent for a moment as Bruce looked over him.
“Do you have scans?” Helen asked, her voice now just as concerned as everyone else. Almost everyone that knows Peter has a soft spot for him. The kid just has a way of making almost anyone he meets fond of him. And seeing him in pain is the worst thing in the world.
“We’re sending some over to you now.” Bruce confirmed, working fast. “Friday said the symptoms resemble that of hydrochloric acid poisoning. It looks like it’s burning through his hands, mouth, throat, and stomach.” Bruce explained. “Digestive system, too.”
“Fascinating.” Helen whispered. “He’s reacting as a spider would, but it appears to be a much more intense reaction.” She observed. “How much pain is he in?” At that moment, Peter let out a loud, strangled cry, his breaths now wheezing.
“That answer your question?” Tony asked as he helped Rhodey place a cannula into Peter’s nose. “His saliva’s bloody and he’s got blood in his stomach, too.” Tony wanted to grab Peter’s hand and hold it, squeeze it, let him know he’d be alright, but he stopped when he remembered how burned they were. Rhodey tried placing a damp cloth in the palm of Peter’s hand, but it made him cry out in pain. Tony brushed Peter’s hair out of his face again, shushing him. “I know it hurts, Pete, but it’s gonna help, okay? You’re okay.”
“Helen, we need to act fast.” Bruce urged. “I don’t know how much longer we have.” She was silent for a moment before speaking.
“The Cradle can repair and print new tissue for his hands, no problem.” She started. “But we’re still testing use on anything internal. And there’s no way of knowing how Peter’s advanced healing will react with the new tissue.”
“His advanced healing is probably what’s causing him to deteriorate this quickly in the first place.” Rhodey supplied. “The only way to find out what it’ll do to him is to just have it done.” He looked worriedly at Tony. “We’re running out of time.” There was a long beat of silence before Helen spoke again.
“I hope you updated the wireless interface on the Cradle, Tony.” She pointed out, the Cradle across the room starting up. Tony grunted as he and Rhodey moved Peter to the large machine.
“You know I made sure everything in this place is always in top shape.” Tony assured. Before Bruce had the chance to seal Peter inside, he reached out and clamped one hand around Tony’s wrist. Tony could feel Peter’s flesh, hot and sticky, adhering to his own skin as he did so. Peter looked up at Tony with pleading eyes, his body growing weaker by the second.
He tried to speak, but the sound he made came out as a strangled gurgle and a desperate whine. Tony gently rested his other hand on top of Peter’s, trying his best to hide the fear on his face.
“You’re gonna be okay, Pete. Helen is gonna take amazing care of you, and when you wake up you’ll feel good as new.” Peter tapped something on Tony’s wrist, so quickly he almost missed it. P.R.O.M.I.S.E “I promise, kid.” Tony whispered. “You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think you’d come out okay.” Peter’s eyes darted across Tony’s face for a few seconds more before he tore his hand off of Tony’s wrist.
Tony kissed his hand and planted it onto Peter’s forehead quickly before Bruce sealed the Cradle shut. Peter shuddered once locked inside, his eyes rolling back into his head. Tony immediately regretted letting go of his kid, both his hands pressing hard against the thick glass of the machine. Rhodey tried pulling Tony away as he looked up to the ceiling.
“Cho?” Tony asked urgently, severity in his tone. Bruce was by their sides now as well, all three turning their attention to Peter.
“He just passed out, but his vitals are still reading okay.” Helen reassured quickly. “I need to ask you three to leave the room so that I can begin. It’s still not safe to have others in the room when we’re attempting to repair anything interior.” Tony almost asked how, then, was it safe for Peter. But he had the right mind to bite his tongue.
“Keep us updated Helen.” Bruce called out as he tried wiping some of Peter’s flesh off of Tony, but the second he tried Tony jerked his arm away. Bruce, taking the hint, conceded.
“I will.” She seemed to sense Tony’s discomfort with the idea of leaving Peter alone, because just before they exited the room, she reminded, “He’s in steady hands, Tony.” Tony nodded, taking a deep breath
“I know he is.”
Tony, Rhodey, Bruce, and Pepper spent the early hours of Christmas morning waiting at Peter’s bedside for him to wake up after his six hour procedure. They’d long since thrown out all the cookies they had baked, Rhodey couldn’t stand the smell of them after what they had done to Peter. Nor could anyone else. Because I almost killed the sweetest teenager on the face of the planet doesn’t exactly scream Christmas spirit.
Tony was too anxious to wash Peter’s flesh off of his arm, worried it was the last thing he would have of Peter, but after about an hour the smell became too much to bare. He finally gave in and washed it off himself, trying to convince himself that it was the stench that made his eyes water.
Christmas dinner had long since been forgotten, no one having much of an appetite after what had just conspired. It was all being kept in the fridge for when they could all eat together as a family. Until they were sure Peter was okay.
According to Helen, things had gone well. This was her first major success in repairing internal tissues in the body, and as of now Peter’s body was taking to the new cells and tissue well. Helen would be flying out on the 27th to check on Peter in person, but as far as operating on someone who’s halfway across the world goes, tonight was a success.
Pepper had gone to bed some time ago, the chairs in the med bay doing little to support her back and distended stomach. Bruce would get up every so often to check on Peter’s vitals and take notes on his condition for Helen, and Rhodey couldn’t stop pacing back and forth. No matter what anyone said to him, he felt responsible for what happened to Peter. Tony felt responsible too. He should’ve known.
Around 5:45, Peter’s eyes fluttered. He groaned, his voice weak, as his eyes slowly opened. Tony sat closer to Peter’s bed, carefully grabbing one of his bandaged hands. He blinked a few times, a confused look on his face, before he made a feeble attempt at speaking. “Mr. Stark?”
“Hey, kiddo.” Tony replied quietly, smiling warmly. Rhodey and Bruce scooted closer to Peter, and his eyes passed over everyone in the room, trying to piece together what had happened. Tony instinctively reached up to brush some hair away from Peter’s face. “How’re you feeling?” Peter took a moment to consider the question before answering.
“Throat hurts.” He replied weakly. “Bad… Hands too.” Bruce scribbled something down quickly on his clipboard, as Rhodey wiped a tear from his eye. Peter caught the action, turning his head slightly to face him. “Mr. Rhodey..?” He questioned. Rhodey shook his head.
“Peter.. I am so sorry.” Rhodey choked, gingerly massaging Peter’s forearm with his hand. “I had no idea you would react that way to the peppermint oil, I—” He took a sharp breath. “I am so sorry I put you through this.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed at the apology, reaching out and resting his other bandaged hand on Rhodey’s knee.
“I.. I really wasn’t lying… When I said I would die for those cookies, you know.” Peter assured, causing the room to burst into laughter. “You didn’t know..” Peter reasoned, his voice still weak. “I didn’t either. It’s not your fault.” Rhodey nodded, taking a slow breath. “If you substitute the peppermint for something else so I can still have some cookies, we can call it even?” Peter proposed, lifting his hand from Rhodey’s lap. Rhodey carefully took it in his, giving it a gentle shake.
“Sounds like a plan to me, kid.” Rhodey replied warmly. He released Peter’s hand to ruffle his curls, Peter visibly relaxing at the action.
“Still tired..” Peter said to no one in particular as his eyes slipped shut, like he was just realizing it.
“You’ve still got loads of time to sleep, kid.” Tony told him. Peter cracked one eye at him.
“What about Christmas?” Peter asked. Tony shook his head, carefully patting his chest.
“Christmas can wait until you’re feeling a bit better, kid. Right now you just get some more rest.” And so he did. Peter hummed in response and was out like a light. Everyone in the room felt they could breathe a little bit easier knowing that Peter was okay.
And that’s the story of how Peter almost died on Christmas Eve. That night, Tony learned another of many lessons about his Spider-Kid the hard way; Peter Parker and peppermint don’t mix.
Add that one to the Peter Parker files. This was something Tony had no plans on ever repeating.