Chapter Text
"Spidey, we have a little situation here! To your right-" Steve Rogers' voice spoke, echoing in the comms.
Peter turned around and was promptly stabbed in the gut. His attacker thought that wasn't enough - obviously - and threw him across the battlefield, where he landed on the ground with a rough thud and a very sickening crack.
The last thing he heard as he lost consciousness was yelling over the comms, and a specific voice calling out to him, shouting his name.
- - - - -
He swam in and out of consciousness, as if he was drowning, trying to make his way up from the water. Everything blurred and muffled as he fell deeper and deeper into the void.
After an unknown amount of time, he finally managed to open his eyes, just to have the lights glaring down at him. He squinted.
"Ow."
"Peter?" Mr. Stark. It was Mr. Stark. "FRIDAY, dim the lights."
Peter sighed in relief as the brightness of the room lessened. He opened his eyes, feeling a terrible headache pounding against his temple as he tried to sit up.
"What...?" He mumbled, disoriented.
"So, Peter. You thought it was a good idea to join an Avengers mission with the lasting effects of a concussion and three broken ribs?" Mr. Stark's tone was angry and stoic. It was times like these when Peter realized how terrifying the man could be.
"I-"
"No, no excuses! You could've died!" Mr. Stark argued.
"But-"
"No! I'm not accepting any of it. Come find me when you're back to your senses," he scoffed.
With that, Mr. Stark left.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, sighing.
He felt another person enter the room from the sound of a new heartbeat. He opened his eyes again.
"Doctor Banner?" He asked quietly.
"Hm? Yes, it's me. And call me Bruce, kid." Bruce smiled kindly, glancing over at the serum connected to Peter's arm. "I don't think that's needed anymore. I'm going to take it out."
"Okay," Peter mumbled. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Around three days," the scientist replied quietly.
Bruce took the needle out of his arm in one swift move, which Peter was thankful for.
"Your vitals are stable," He informed Peter, "So if you feel better, you can go any time. But only if you feel better. If you lie, I'm afraid Tony won't be too happy with either you or me."
Peter groaned.
"He's being dramatic, it wasn't that bad. I was fine!" Peter argued.
"You had a concussion, and apparently you were concussed before the fight as well, and you had three broken ribs, which we still don't know where they came from, which Tony will definitely interrogate you about later, and you broke your nose," Bruce raised his eyebrows.
Peter winced, fidgeting with the seam of his shirt sleeve.
"Maybe it was a bit bad, but I'm fine now!" Peter reasoned.
"Are you?" Bruce asked dryly. "Because I'm betting that if you stood up right now, you would pass out. And no, that's not a challenge, because I know you will, and I also know you'd attempt it."
"Ugh." Peter wrinkled his nose.
"'Ugh' it is," Bruce agreed. "But Tony's right. Maybe he was a bit harsh about it, but you shouldn't have lied or kept it a secret. The Avengers are a team. You need to tell us if you're injured."
"But I'm not an Avenger," Peter argued.
"You might as well be," Bruce scoffed in amusement. "Even Nat likes you, which is a huge feat by itself. Even if you're not an Avenger, you're a part of our team."
"Thank you," Peter murmured, a small smile tugging on his lips.
"Of course, kid. I'm only telling the truth," Bruce smiled.
- - - - -
Once Peter had left the MedBay, he tried to find Mr. Stark.
"-the kid-"
Peter paused, listening in on the conversation.
"He didn't want to worry you," Steve spoke, his voice quiet.
"That doesn't mean anything. He still kept his injuries a secret," Mr. Stark argued.
"Maybe he had a reason."
"I don't give a f-"
"Language."
"-crap about his reason! He still lied, he still kept a huge thing secret from us, and he could have died, Steve, he could have died."
Peter ran a hand through his hair, contemplating stepping into the room.
"He didn't. He could have, yes, but he didn't. I'm not saying you should forgive him, but maybe be a little more tolerant of him. He didn't want you to worry. He's a good kid. He just wanted to help," Steve reasoned.
Mr. Stark sighed.
Peter stepped into the room.
"Mr. Stark, I- I'm sorry. I never meant any harm. I just... I don't know. I wanted to fight. I don't like feeling helpless. I needed to do something, and it's not every day you let me join Avengers missions. I didn't want it to end up like this," Peter apologized quietly. "I truly didn't mean anything bad."
"You're forgiven, kid."
"Wh- what? A-aren't you going to argue?" Peter questioned, incredulous.
"Nope. You're right. As much as I hate to admit it, you are. However," Mr. Stark smiled slightly, "You need to promise me something."
"What do you mean?" Peter frowned.
"Promise me that you will never hide an injury from me - from us - ever again."
"I promise I'll try," Peter said quietly, a smile tugging on his lips.
"That's good enough for now," Mr. Stark smiled. "Come on, kid. Get some more rest until dinner."
Peter nodded, beaming as he left.
~ Fin ~