dead in there, you're dead in there (джен)

“Peter, you’ve been acting insane for the past however many days and it’s giving me an ulcer, what’s going on, what did I do? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it.”
Peter is still stalking around, and Friday is listing off his injuries, from a concussion to broken ribs to a sprained ankle, and Tony feels sick looking at it all.
“You’ll fix it,” Peter says, glancing over at him with pure disdain, the look bookended by matching explosions somewhere behind them. “Yeah it’s something you can’t fix, if it happens, nope, can’t fix it, it would just—but you’re just saying—”
Tony starts forward towards him. “Pete, explain to me what’s happening, please.”
“The protocol, the protocol,” Peter insists, waving his hands through the air.
Tony shakes his head. “The protocol?”
“The Avalon Protocol, Tony,” Peter spits out, with venom.