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etherealpapercut · 1 year

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prompt: *my own sad ass because i actually have low blood pressure, and wouldn't it be nice if my favourite avengers were there to help me out after i collapsed and was having a bad day?*

~*~*~*~

hypotension

~*~*~*~

fandom: mcu

pairings: platonic!peter parker x gn!stark!reader

genre: fluffy and angsty moments all throughout

warnings: no bad swear words! (yay!) but lotsa fainting and mentions of fainting, it’s implied that y/n is american, lactose intolerance, emotional outbursts, cream puffs. in that order.

word count: 2.5k words

summary: drastic times call for drastic measures and y/n stark is pushed to the edge after a series of collapsing episodes. no one dares go near y/n now, except for y/n’s best friend, peter parker.

~*~*~*~

you felt lightheaded, and the world began to fade around you. fog invaded the corners of your eyes as your muscles started to give way. one thought stood out among the rest.

oh, again.

all of a sudden, your senses came back to a fatigued body sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. you checked the wall for the nearest clock.

it read 12:05 PM.

you must’ve blacked out for a full thirty seconds by your reckoning. an average time, but it was still a concern. ��uughh,” you groan, fighting the urge to completely collapse. this was the third time today. you needed salt in your system, and the faster the better.

you mustered up every last bit of your energy and powered through the weakness.

“i’m an avenger. i’m the child of an avenger,” you whispered. “i am strong, and am completely capable of walking down a hallway.”

“y/n stark,” a robotic voice blared from unseen speakers. “are you alright? you were unconscious for—”

“yeah, yeah, yeah, FRIDAY,” you mutter. “delete all the security footage of that... scene... please.”

“are you sure? you may want to review this footage at a later time for a full-body diagnostic. i recommend you consume a source of sodium, and drink one full glass of wa—”

“DELETE THE FOOTAGE, FRIDAY!” you yelled. your lungs couldn’t get enough air. the rest of your teammates knew that your body didn’t naturally produce enough sodium for you to maintain a high rough level of blood pressure, but moments like this, when you full-on collapsed, were still very embarrassing. you were glad you were all alone. you threw a suspicious glance behind you just to make sure.

absolutely nothing stirred. FRIDAY continued to speak.

“deleting. i suggest you make your way to the main kitchen. there are pickles in that fridge. ”

you stood up slowly, wary of another attack from your own body. you continued to move slowly, down a hall, up a flight of stairs, past a bathroom, and down another corridor to the kitchen.

when you arrived at the kitchen on the second floor, you weren’t even surprised to see that the rest of the avengers were already there. the kitchen on the main floor was the biggest and best, and today, wanda and thor had done the shopping.

(those two had exotic tastes—which were anything but your typical american cuisine—and everyone looked forward to the meals that they prepared.)

something that smelled thick and savoury was in the oven, and a bowl of fruit was on the counter, surrounded by the others’ cups and mugs and glasses. you made a beeline straight for the refrigerator.

“heyyy, y/n!” sam called. “what’s up?” he was stationed next to the coffee machine. on any other day, and in any other mood, especially if you had not had three “episodes” earlier, you would have stopped to say hello and make small talk, but today you simply ignored him. to top it off, you barely even heard the man, as blood was rushing through your ears like a waterfall.

tony was standing in front of the fridge.

“well, if it isn’t the great y/n. wonderful to see you finally out of your room.” he joked. “how are you feeling?”

you pushed past his hug and opened the fridge door. tony pouted.

“now, y/n stark, that's no way to treat your father,” steve rogers said from across the counter. everyone heard cap, you included, but you ignored everyone.

“yeah!” tony agreed. he waved both hands at steve, one empty, the other occupied with a glass of water. some of it splashed, but he took no heed. neither did you, and you continued to rummage through the shelves and compartments, hunting for the pickles. you weren’t finding them, and felt a wave of nausea and exhaustion and an overwhelming mood swing wash over you, you drew up every ounce of composure you had left and turned around.

“hello, father,” you addressed tony cordially. “mr big bird, mc’captain freaking america. that smells lovely, wanda, whatever it is.” you were being very sarcastic. the room had quieted at your condescending tone.

you blocked it all out.

“where are the pickles?” you demanded.

“where are the pickles?” tony murmured. he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “FRIDAY?” he hollered, “where are the pickles?”

“sir,” FRIDAY said. she said nothing else.

wanda cleared her throat. “uh, y/n, please don't get upset, but i used the last ones in my casserole,” she gestured towards the oven. tuna bake. it was tuna bake. you hated tuna bake. no offense to wanda. the tuna part was fine. but lactose intolerance ailed you as well as your sodium deficiency, and that recipe called for a full block of cheese, four cups of milk, and the worst one of all; half a cup of butter.

everything drained out of you. nothing remained. you hated when you got like this, and you knew when you got like this, but you couldn't even spare anything to apologize. you grabbed tony’s glass of water right out of his hand, took two steps to the mess of spices wanda had left on the counter, dumped a pile of salt into the water and chugged it.

the room went silent. every eye was on you.

you felt sick as you swallowed every last drops of the brine. you tossed the glass into the sink, not caring if it broke, then stumbled towards the door again.

you caught the expression on natasha’s face. she looked queasy. it took a lot to shake natasha romanoff. wanda wore a similar look, hands covering her mouth. your dad just stared after you with a mix of awe, inspiration, and complete disgust.

it was an eye opener.

many in the room looked about to have a fit. they could all imagine what that might taste like, but none in their worst nightmares would ever try a salt water ratio like you had.

your insides churned. you had the salt you needed but at what a price.

it took several attempts to open your mouth to speak.

“i’m going.”

and with that, you left

~*~*~*~

your destination was the grocery store, granted that you could get out of the avenger’s tower without a huge fuss.

you heard someone walking behind you, probably someone who was determined to follow you and make sure you were alright.

you glanced back, ready to throw hands, but instead spotted peter parker, the amazing spider-man, walking aimlessly on the ceiling behind you. he was fixed on his cell phone, and nearly ran into a light fixture.

he hadn’t been in the kitchen, so he hadn’t seen what you had just done. there was hope of redemption and regained innocence in that prospect. you had a feeling that no one would see you in the same light again.

you committed many crimes on the battlefield and on the game board, but this was a new extreme. bucky had looked disarmed.

you wiped the salty drool from your mouth on your shoulder and waited for peter to walk by you so that conversation could be initiated. regular convo, linguistics between children of the same generation. the ceiling was the perfect height to talk to anyone on two different planes, specifically between a person on the floor and a person on the ceiling.

the boy on the roof snickered at something on his screen and kept ambling in your general direction.

all of a sudden, you wobbled on your feet and had to catch yourself from tripping over thin air. ugh... if that horrid glass of salt water hadn’t been enough to kick your system back to rights, you might explode into tears.

peter’s hood had fallen over his head, but that didn’t block you from being able to see his face clearly. it wasn’t the tiniest bit flushed from being upside-down for so long, and once more, you found yourself marvelling at your friend.

peter stopped walking on the ceiling, and you approached, unsteady on your feet.

“spider-baby,” you address him in a mocking tone. peter acknowledged your voice, but it took him a few moments to stop what he was doing on his phone and look for you in the room. you smirked at him, only a few feet away.

“y/n!” peter yelped, taking several shocked steps backwards. “how did you get on the ceiling?! what thehow are you sticking?” he walked around your head, baffled. “you didn’t get bitten by a spider either, did you?” you flicked his nose when he got in range, taking slight pleasure in his reaction.

“fool, you’re the one on the ceiling,” you said.

“wh—wha—oh. yes. that would explain it.” peter flexed and flipped himself around and stood to face you on the floor. he flapped his arms and raised his eyebrows to convey a ta-da! impressive, huh? air, and you smiled at him.

“bro, you gotta stop growing,” you turned, punching him in the arm. the two of you began to walk. Peter towered a full six inches over you.

“tall people are always nice people, and i am one of those taller people,” peter declared.

you scoffed. “well, one day,” you said, sarcasm and humour loading down your voice, “i’m gonna look up at a skyscraper and realize it has your face on it, and it’s actually you.”

“well,” peter replied, “i may grow, but you will not, and one day, sky-scraper-me might accidentally step on an ant named y/n, which will be a sad day, but it’s too bad you were too short for me to see you.”

you elbowed him playfully, mock scorn written all over your face. peter just took hold of your sleeve and tugged, just about sending you tripping.

sometimes you really forgot how strong he was.

then all of a sudden, your friend was in the middle of a sentence about his homework, and the end of the hallway had been reached and the two of you were about to turn the corner.

how—?

your vision went blank, but you were aware that you were still walking, until you hit a wall and fell to the ground.

something like static, or ringing bells, was going through your brain. vaguely and faintly, you could hear peter panicking.

now what was happening? everything was dark.

your brain processed that your friend’s voice had cracked and he sounded rather high-pitched. it was like a soprano’s. ordinarily, you would have laughed for ages over his voice cracking, but you were paralyzed sitting slumped against the wall. you felt like you were floating through space, until you were really floating and peter was carrying you to the nearest couch.

you hit the couch cushions and bolted upright, scaring peter, every bit of strength coming back all at once.

“peter parker!” you gasped.

“y/n stark!” he cried. “you’re alive!”

“of course! of course i am, don’t cry,” you assured him. peter snivelled.

“i thought you up and died on me, idiot,” he said.

you rolled your eyes affectionately at your friend. “listen, if i ever died it would be because i was killed, and i’m taking you with me, so don't worry.”

peter nodded. that's what friends did.

“i didn’t know who to alert.” peter mumbled. “i just, uh, called for mr stark. he’d know what to do, right? he’ll come help you. you’re his child, after all.”

you just groaned and shook your head. tony was an overprotective father, yet somehow, simultaneously, an extremely nonchalant one. you knew he would hear peter screaming for him, and dismiss it with a wave, maybe ask FRIDAY to give him an update, or send vision or rhodey over to check up on you if he was really concerned.

“yeah, spider-child, mr stark will know exactly what to do. but we know better.” peter cocked his head. you reached out and poked his arm. “and you know what we need to do? we need to go to the store.”

your friend’s look of confusion prompted you to further explain. “my blood pressure is running low today, and i need pickles or some kind of electrolyte drink to help raise it so i don’t die. we don’t have pickles or electrolyte drinks.”

peter nodded seriously. “so we need to get pickles. pickles and gatorade... and profiteroles, y/n/n, we can't forget the profiteroles.”

you suppressed a grin. profiteroles were a forbidden desert at the avenger’s tower, because everyone would fight over them. who knew that such a simple thing as a box of cream puffs could turn the infamous avengers on themselves in a heartbeat?

this was going to be a top-secret mission to the grocery store.

“profiteroles for sure, pete. after pickles.” you patted your pockets for a pen and paper as peter did the exact same thing. you smirked at each other.

“anything else for the list?” peter asked.

“we’ll see,” you remarked. peter jumped to his feet and held out a hand to help you stand up.

“let’s go!”

~*~*~*~

later that night, you and peter hunkered down in your room. your room had a tv. tony let peter live in the tower, but he had said that peter took after him too much, which was true, and if he had a tv in his own quarters, he would get carried away or distracted and stay up all night watching “whatever the hell he watches.”

peter had insisted that the two of you watch star trek, but you had adamantly put your foot down and said that you would prefer to watch star wars. after some argument, you had agreed to binge the original star wars trilogy first, and then end it with peter’s favourite star trek films.

your trip to the store had turned out to be a trip to stock up on all-nighter supplies such as popcorn, chocolate, and other caffeine, as well as both yours and peter’s favourite candies and a new fluffy blanket.

and, of course, a jar of pickles, which you had cracked open and dug into with desperation as soon as you and peter had checked out.

peter had laughed at you, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. he had even eaten the whole pickle you offered to him on the walk back to the tower.

after some heated discussion over distribution of the profiteroles, and smuggling everything in (particularly the profiteroles,) without being detected—a process that involved some complicated web slinging—as well as trying not to alert anyone else in the tower of your escapades, the two of you had put on your movies and lt everything relax into a state of peace.

you yawned. the time was approaching two in the morning and you felt yourself drifting away from the world, but this time, instead of the reason being your blood pressure dropping, it was because of the lulling scene that befell you: a muted tv, lighting the room with a soft air, and your best friend breathing deep and rhythmically as you nestled into each other.

minus the hypotension drama, i would do this again, you smiled, and let the world fade away into happy dreams.

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