Chapter Text
The past three weeks had been stifling. Between the homework, tests, projects and finals that marked the end of his sophomore year, Peter hadn’t found a single second to patrol the neighborhood. He hadn’t even had much time to think about patrolling and was more than excited to don the suit and catch some criminals.
The only problem was he was getting antsy. Yesterday was the last day of school, and he’d wanted to patrol the moment he bolted out Midtown’s front doors, but Karen had advised against it. It was extremely windy out and she informed him of how dangerous it would be.
He knew she was probably right. The hot, summer air had pelted against his skin on his walk to and from the subway station and it made him wonder why the school hadn’t just cancelled the last day of classes. It wasn’t like the last day was anything of value anyway.
But the wind hadn’t let up at all in the past twenty-four hours. In fact, trudging from his bedroom to the living room and turning on the local news, he found it was even windier than yesterday. And as he stared at the reporter braving the elements and yelling into his microphone to be heard over the din of noise, he realized this wind story was quickly turning into the type of thing the Weather Channel would cover for hours on end.
Ugh. He just wanted to go web-slinging. Feel the rush of wind against his body and the butterflies in his stomach as he rose and fell amongst the buildings. There probably weren’t any criminals out in this type of weather, but regardless, he needed to feel the freedom that came with being Spider-Man. He needed to get outside. It had been too long. He couldn’t take it anymore!
He would probably be fine. Karen was just being overly cautious as usual. Overly cautious because Mr. Stark programmed her to be that way. Because Mr. Stark thought he couldn’t handle himself. Thought he couldn’t make rational decisions.
Staring at the news ticker on the screen, he realized something. Seventy-five miles-per-hour wasn’t that big of a deal, right? He was Spider-Man. He could deal with a little wind. He had super strength. And besides, he’d gone patrolling in windy conditions before.
He would be fine.
--
Ah, finally! Peter thought as he began a slow, leisurely swing from his apartment toward the Empire State Building. Freedom.
By his logic, Midtown Manhattan was the best place to put all his pent-up energy into. The buildings were tall enough to get the adrenaline rush he so desired, but they weren’t tall enough to be dangerous in these winds. The exhilaration of jumping off Lower Manhattan skyscrapers would have to wait another day.
It was strange to swing around the city on a day like this. It was the beginning of June, and normally, there would be thousands of people milling about and enjoying their time in the sun. But today, the streets were practically deserted. Everyone was taking cover in their homes or workplaces, not willing to risk their sanity by venturing out in this weather.
What that said about Peter’s sanity, he didn’t know.
As he swung across the Queensboro Bridge and made his way into Manhattan, he began to wonder if this was a bad idea. The scaffolding on a building close by was swaying dangerously in the wind, as if it would come loose and collapse at any moment. And a block away, he could see debris being forcefully pushed into the sky, flying at speeds he didn’t want to encounter head on.
It would be fine, right? He just needed to keep his eyes peeled and avoid hazards. He had super strength. It would be fine.
Perching on top of a swaying lamppost, he thought about where to go next. His original plan was to jump off the Empire State building, feel the wind race past him and the swoop of his stomach. But he kind of wanted to try something new.
In the distance, he could see the sleek, gleaming windows and slim figure of 432 Park Avenue. For some reason, the structure held a sort of strange sentimental value to him. It opened around the same time he got his powers and was quickly becoming as controversial as he was, if the Daily Bugle had anything to say about it. Between claiming he was a ‘menace’ and calling 432 Park Avenue an ‘eyesore’ and a ‘disgrace to the city,’ the tabloid didn’t report on much anything else.
Peter supposed they were meant for each other.
That was it then. The first stop on his web-slinging extravaganza.
--
Maybe it was his imagination, but the wind seemed to be increasing in intensity as he scaled higher and higher. The slim building seemed to be swaying more than the normal amount for the city’s skyscrapers, and Peter wondered yet again if he’d made a good decision.
But he was almost to the top. It was too late to turn back now. The only way down was to swing.
Coming to a standing position on the roof, the wind whipped around him, pelting him with a force he had to physically brace himself to withstand. But he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Because it felt liberating. To be out in the open. To be on top of one of the city’s tallest buildings. And the kind of freedom he hadn’t felt at all in the past few weeks flooded his veins.
It was time. He was going to have the time of his life!
--
Looking back, Peter wasn’t sure when the exact moment of idiocy befell him. Was it when he decided to ignore Karen’s warnings? Was it the moment he left his apartment? Or was it the terrifying moment of miscalculation? One where he somehow hadn’t realized something as flimsy as a web could be blown off course so easily in these wind speeds.
Regardless, he lost control. He lost control and fell almost ninety floors and over a thousand feet. There wasn’t much to it, he didn’t think. One minute he was flying, and the next he was falling.
It happened so fast, the wind clawing at his suit and his body, suffocating him with its force and taking his breath away. He wasn’t sure when his garbled mind made the decision to try and land on his feet, but he had.
It was an action that came with almost immediate regret.
Pain lanced through his legs at a vicious rate, and he felt shockwaves of the impact tear through him, stealing the air right out of his chest. He felt bones crunching and popping, moving in directions he was positive were not good. The unfortunate sounds of multiple breaks assaulted his ears. Sounds he thought would be reserved for patrols or Avengers missions. Not a moment as ridiculous as this. Where his judgment failed him, and his powers did too.
He must have blacked out for a moment, because one second he felt the pain of impact, of his legs slamming brutally against the ground. And the next he was staring up into the sky, flat on his back, feeling nothing but regret and remorse.
And that was it. He was officially an idiot. Peter didn’t mean to be dramatic, but this was one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to him, even if there was no one around to witness the fall of the century.
He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, masking the ridiculous levels of pain he was sure to feel later. He had to get up. He had to find help. And from the sounds his bones made, he knew he would need all the help he could get.
Somewhere along the line, he realized his ears were ringing. A high-pitched sound that blocked out everything else. And as he tried to push himself into a sitting position, he realized he was shaking. Trembling. Arms barely able to support his weight.
And once he finally did maneuver himself into a sitting position, he made the grave mistake of looking down. Both femurs and a bone in his lower right leg that he couldn’t remember the name of were sticking out. Penetrating his skin and the tough exterior of his suit alike. His right ankle was bulging, turned at an unnatural and sickening angle. And blood was beginning to pool around the open injuries.
For some reason, it was the sight of blood that caused him to lose his stomach. And it was only in the nick of time that he was able to pull his mask above his mouth and nose and turn to the side to vomit.
When his stomach finally ceased spilling its contents, the pain returned full force, sharp and hot, blistering and screaming. He could feel the extreme winds pelting against his broken flesh and open bone, a sickening feeling that almost made him retch again. As he let out a strangled whimper, it was at that moment he realized he was totally and utterly screwed.
Ugh. Mr. Stark was going to kill him. But only if May didn’t kill him first.
He flopped back down, laying on the pavement and letting out a long groan. The pain was beginning to take over his every thought, and he knew if he didn’t try and get up—didn’t try to find help fast, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere at all.
Just as he was about to try and sit up again, the ringing in his ears stopped. He could hear again. And with that, he found the voice of Karen speaking frantically. And he wondered, with a detached sort of feeling, how it was possible for her to sound so scared. Apparently, she’d already called for help. Mr. Stark was coming, and he was bringing Dr. Banner and some medical personnel with him.
Peter had never felt more grateful for the close proximity of the Avengers Tower in his life.
--
Multiple faces were crowding him. Voices were talking. And he was pretty sure they were talking to him. But he couldn’t think about any of it. He couldn’t think past the blinding, blistering pain in his legs. It was a fire running through him. Destructive in every way imaginable. Hot and incessant in its burning. But he also felt cold. Extremely cold. The wind relentlessly pelting against him. Not letting up. He was shaking.
People were manipulating his arms, pulling them out of his suit and attaching things to them. Someone was shining a light in his eyes, causing him to squint and turn his head away.
“He’s too cold. I can’t get a reading on his pulse-ox.”
“Tony, go get a couple of shock blankets from the ambulance, will you?”
The voices washed over him. But he couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. Couldn’t identify the faces of the people around him. His thoughts were coming together in jumbled messes. They were useless. Short and incomplete. The backdrop of pain pain pain pain pain interrupting them. A constant reminder that beat in time with his pulse.
“You’re doing great, Peter.” A voice in his ear said. “Just a little bit longer and we can get you an IV full of the good stuff.”
Feeling a slight moment of clarity come upon him, he turned his head to the side and found the concerned face of Dr. Banner, and for a moment, Peter wondered where he came from. But then he remembered. Karen called for help. She called for help and at some point, through his haze of pain, the help had arrived.
“Hi, Peter. You back with us?” He asked.
He groaned as a way of answering. In far too much pain to even attempt a proper response.
“Just try and relax. We are getting you prepped for an ambulance ride to the tower. You are doing great.”
Peter decided to try and follow Dr. Banner’s advice, closing his eyes and taking as deep a breath as he could through the pain.
After a minute of trying to relax, he was startled by someone adjusting an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and inserting an IV into the back of his hand. He opened his eyes to find an unknown medic securing the mask’s strap around the back of his head.
“We’re just giving you some oxygen and pain relief.” The woman needlessly supplied. “You are doing so good.”
“Peter?” Dr. Banner’s stressed-looking face came into his line of vision. “I’m going to inject your pain meds into the IV now. Don’t be alarmed if you feel a slight burning. It’s completely normal.”
Peter nodded. Wondering why the man had even bothered to explain that last part when he’d been looped up on his super drugs a few times before.
Maybe they were giving him a higher dose or something.
Not long after that last thought, Peter felt the burn of the drug and the blissful semi-awareness that soon followed. Somewhere through his medicated haze he felt someone tuck warm blankets around him and move his body onto a softer surface, but he didn’t much care. At least he wasn’t feeling as much pain anymore.
--
This was not how Tony expected his day to go.
It turned out, being stuck in the back of an ambulance with a semi-conscious spider-kid wasn’t his idea of fun. In fact, he was pretty sure the shock he felt when FRIDAY alerted him to the situation shaved ten years off his life. It couldn’t have been good for his heart. At all.
And if Tony was being honest with himself, after the initial shock and concern at the horrifying news ebbed away, he felt a righteous sense of irritation. Why in the hell was Peter out doing his spider-gig in these conditions? Didn’t he realize how dangerous it was? Had he even used his pea-sized teenage brain at all? Tony hadn’t the faintest idea. But it made him regret—not for the first time—thinking that a soon-to-be sixteen-year-old could be trusted with the kind of thing he didn’t even trust himself with.
Granted, he was getting out of a yawn-inducing R&D meeting, but he wasn’t sure it was worth it, the words be careful what you wish for coming to the forefront of his mind. Mocking him. Dishing out a little more of that bad luck he vehemently despised. Because he certainly didn’t wish to spend his afternoon in the back of a racing ambulance. One that only God-knows-how was staying upright in these conditions.
And although the tower was only twelve blocks from the site of Peter’s fall, it turned out Bruce hadn’t brought enough drugs with him to keep Peter out of it. He had somehow grabbed the wrong dose in their haste to get to the kid. And after about ten minutes, Peter had burned through most of what they had given him, causing him to hiss and moan in pain with every bump and jostle in the road.
The winds assaulting the sides of the small vehicle certainly weren’t helping either, but at least he’d been out of it for the transfer from the ground to the gurney. Small miracles were all he could hope for at this point.
Tony wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t mad at the kid. And he would definitely earn a stern talking-to once he was all sorted out. But for right now, the concern was returning in full force.
The kid had certainly done a number on himself. His legs were totally wrecked. And Tony wouldn’t lie, he was worried. Even with his crazy healing abilities, he knew the recovery wouldn’t be a walk in the park. After Bruce and the two medics that ventured out into this insane weather with them scanned Peter’s injuries and began the triage process, he was given the low-down. And it was definitely not what he wanted to hear.
“Tony, you’re gonna want to call Cho for this one.” Bruce said while looking down at the display of a Stark Industries portable med scanner, worry evident on his face.
“Just give it to me straight.” Tony snapped. “What are we dealing with here?”
“He needs surgery, and you know I’m not qualified to do that. We have to call Cho.”
“Okay, Big Green, I’ll call Cho! Just tell me what we’re dealing with!” Tony all but yelled.
Bruce looked slightly abashed at his outburst, but Tony couldn’t help it. He was worried about the kid. And he didn’t like how the man was beating around the bush.
“Well… as you can see, he has three compound fractures.” Bruce said, gesturing to Peter and the two medics who were surrounding him on the ground. “Both femurs and the lower right tibia. This is why he needs surgery, Tony. Not even his healing can fix this alone.”
Tony just nodded, not wanting to further the yelling match.
“But that’s not the only thing.” Bruce continued. “He also has an oblique fracture in his right fibula. You can see on the scan that it was a clean break. Which means we need to get him to the tower fast, or we might have to re-break it if it heals wrong.”
“You think his healing could take care of a simple break that fast?” Tony asked.
Bruce shifted minutely in place. A tell Tony knew meant he was stressed. “I’m not sure, but I don’t want to risk it.”
Tony nodded, sighing. “Okay, what else you got?”
“His right talus is shattered. That’s the ankle bone.” Bruce helpfully supplied. “Other than that… if he has other injuries I won’t know until we can get him scanned on a more powerful machine than this.” He said, wiggling the portable scanner in his arms.
Tony rubbed his face with his hand. This was not good. Even if Peter didn’t have any more injuries, this still wasn’t going to be one of the simple after-patrol fixes he’d become used to dealing with in the past six-or-so months.
Bruce must have sensed his distress, for he said, “he’s really lucky, Tony. A fall from that height would’ve killed anyone without enhancements. And I’m honestly surprised he didn’t injure his back or head. Like I said, he’s really lucky.”
“Okay.” Tony answered, trying to get his wits about him. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“I need to give Peter some painkillers for transportation. While I’m doing that, call Cho. Tell her what’s going on. You should probably call Peter’s aunt too.”
Shit. He forgot about May. That wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.
“Alright.” He said, resigning himself to his fate.
Tony was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Peter loudly crying out in pain as the ambulance was jolted by a particularly violent gust of wind.
“Shhhh. It’s okay, kid. Just focus on something else.” He soothed, grabbing the kid’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Apparently, Peter was more coherent than he thought, because one second he was holding a limp hand in his, and the next Peter was squeezing his hand back. Hard. Hard enough to hurt.
“Mis’er S’ark?” Peter slurred, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side. “It really ‘urts.”
“I know, kid. You’re okay. We’ll get you more pain meds once we get to the tower.”
As they went over another bump, Peter groaned in response, arching his back as best he could despite his injuries. Tony didn’t know what to do. The kid was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything about it until they got to the tower and pumped him full of more drugs.
“Shhh. Try and relax, Pete. You’ll be okay.” He said, realizing his words were probably useless, but he tried anyway. “Just hold on, kid. Just hold on.”
--
The moment they wheeled Peter into the tower’s medbay, it was chaos. Nurses and doctors surrounded the gurney and pushed Tony out of the way, telling him he could come back once Peter’s injuries were stabilized and the pain meds had taken effect.
For a moment, Tony just stood in the hallway. Trying to take in everything that had happened in the past hour or so. Trying to catch his breath and figure out what to do next. For some reason, he had to keep reminding himself that Peter wasn’t dying. That he wasn’t even close to dying. That the only thing wrong with him was that his legs were royally fucked.
Helen Cho would be here in about forty minutes. Luck was on their side just a little bit it seemed. Tony was worried Bruce and the tower’s medical staff would have to keep Peter calm and sedated for eighteen-plus hours as Cho made the journey across the Pacific Ocean. But she wasn’t in Korea. She was much closer than that. It turned out there was an annual genetics conference in Norfolk, Virginia going on, and she was at it.
Small miracles. Tony thought. Small miracles.
Just then, a flurry of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
“No, Happy! Let me through! I need to see my baby with my own eyes!” A haggard-looking May was struggling against Happy’s hold, pounding on his chest with one of her fists.
“I can’t, May. The doctors won’t let anyone in there right now. They’re stabilizing him.” Happy said. And from his tone of voice, Tony could tell he was already tired of dealing with the panicking woman.
Deciding to try and defuse the situation and take May off Happy’s hands, Tony walked over to the pair, ready to give her every bit of information he knew so far. That was how it was with May. Either you gave her every detail or didn’t alert her to the situation at all, and the latter was clearly not an option in this scenario.
If one thing was for certain, May Parker was extremely protective of her nephew.
“Tony? Oh, thank God!” She said the moment she spotted him. “What happened? Is Peter okay? Happy said they’re stabilizing him.”
“They are.” Tony confirmed. And at the look of horror on her face, he continued. “But its not life-threatening. They are just trying to get his pain under control and keep his wounds clean until an associate of mine, a doctor, gets here.”
“You had to call in another doctor?” She asked, confusion and a little bit of fear evident on her face.
Tony sighed. “Come on, May. Let’s take a walk. I’ll tell you everything.”
And as they began walking down the hall, Tony didn’t miss the look of relief and thanks on Happy’s face.
--
Helen Cho arrived just as Tony was finishing his conversation with May, and he had never been happier to see her. She looked a little flustered to have been called in so suddenly, but regardless, she still extruded the air of professionalism he had become so accustomed to.
After taking a look at Peter, the woman called them into his hospital room to discuss where they would go from here. May instantly made her way to Peter’s side, anxious to look after and comfort him. The nurses had definitely doped him up on the good stuff again, for he was clearly out of it. His only reaction to May stroking his head was to hum and open his eyes for a few seconds before they drooped shut again.
Tony noticed the nurses had cleaned him up and put him in a hospital gown. It looked strange, and in stark contrast to the gaping wounds and twisted bones of his legs. Usually, he encountered people in hospital attire after their injuries had been treated, not before. It was also not lost on him how small and young he looked like that, eyes peacefully closed and face resting against May’s hand. And for the millionth time in the past two hours, he wondered why he’d thought bringing a kid into this world was a good idea.
Helen cleared her throat and brought him back to the present and away from his thoughts. She wasn’t the type to mince words. She was a straight shooter. Honest and to the point. It was one of her best qualities in Tony’s opinion, and one of the reasons he liked to keep her around opposed to other doctors. And today was no different.
“I’m going to take him in for surgery in about an hour.” She began the moment both of them were settled in the chairs around Peter’s bed. “The OR is being prepped as we speak. These compound fractures need to be closed up as soon as possible.”
“Are you going to do all three at once?” May asked, still looking just as anxious as she did upon entering the building.
Helen nodded. “If it were any other patient, it wouldn’t be possible, but with Peter’s enhancements, he’ll be fine to be under anesthesia for such an extended period. We also plan to operate on his shattered talus as well.”
The doctor moved on to explain what each procedure would entail, along with the expected recovery time and needed physical therapy. Peter was in for a rough summer, and although Tony was very upset with the little stunt he pulled, he also felt sorry for the kid. Because whatever summer plans he originally had, they definitely weren’t happening now.
And he was too out of it to comprehend how shitty this would be for him.
“Now, I won’t lie.” Helen continued. “Compound fractures are very serious, and unlike other bone injuries, they have a very high risk of infection. We are hoping Peter’s abilities will keep him from getting one, but as a precaution, we are putting him on heavy doses of antibiotics. We will continue to monitor him closely while he’s here in the medbay as well.”
Tony looked over at May. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her forehead was creased in thought. She looked grim and worried. And although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Tony was worried too. He knew bone infections were nasty business and hard to treat. He supposed the only thing to do was hope Peter’s healing would come to his aid.
“Do either of you have any questions?” Helen asked when neither of them responded to her antibiotic declaration.
May shook her head, but Tony remembered Bruce telling him Peter had five broken bones and Helen had only discussed operating on four.
“What about the other one?” Tony asked, not remembering what other bone Bruce said he’d broken. “Are you not doing surgery on it? The other bone he broke?”
“Oh, the fibula.” Helen said. “No, we are not doing surgery on it at the moment. I am confident it will heal on its own if kept immobile. But we will continue to monitor it in the coming days.”
“Thank you, Dr. Cho.” May said, voice weary and worried.
“Of course.” She answered, smiling. “Both of you are free to stay until a nurse comes to take him to the OR.” And with that, she exited the room.
Tony let out a long sigh. Peter had certainly cut his work out for him. He needed to find Pepper, and not just for the emotional support he so desperately craved right now, but so she could cancel all his meetings and press appearances for the foreseeable future. He was needed here. He couldn’t bare the thought of doing other things while Peter was in surgery and he didn’t want to leave May alone either.
That was another reason he needed Pepper. Although Queens wasn’t too far from here, Tony doubted May would want to leave the tower at all for the next few days. She would need a place to sleep, and Pepper was perfect for the job of arranging a comfortable bedroom for her.
He also needed to vet Helen’s suggestions for the physical therapist, run background checks, read their resumes and prepare an NDA for the one he chose. It all seemed like a paperwork nightmare, but he supposed he had no choice if he wanted the kid to get better.
Just then, one of the nurses came in, knocking politely on the door frame before entering.
“I’m here to take Peter to the operating room.” The young man said. “I’ll give you a moment to say your goodbyes.”
Tony’s didn’t like the way he phrased that last sentence, but figured it wasn’t worth the trouble getting mad about. Turning his eyes toward the nurse’s nametag, he said, “thank you, Carlos.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be right outside the door whenever you’re ready.”
Tony nodded and turned back to May who was already enveloping her semi-coherent nephew in a hug.
“I love you, baby. Be good, okay? Your legs will be fixed in no time.” She said, running a hand through his hair.
“My legs?” Peter slurred, opening his glossy eyes and scrunching his brows together.
“That’s right, honey. You hurt your legs, remember?”
“Oh. It was windy ou’side. I was bein’ dumb.”
Tony decided to jump in at that moment. “You were being extremely dumb, Mr. Parker. But we’ll save that conversation for another time.” He said, patting Peter on the shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “For now, just focus on doing well in surgery, okay?”
“Mis’er S’ark?” Peter asked, trying to meet Tony’s eyes and failing miserably. “Where’d you come from?”
“Been here the whole time, kiddo.” Tony said, trying to keep himself from laughing at how out of it Peter was.
“Oh. Okay.”
And as the nurse returned to take Peter away, May grabbed his hand one last time. “I’ll be right by your side when you wake up, okay?”
“Okay.” Peter slurred. “Love you, May.”
“Love you too, baby.”
--
Awareness came slowly. The first coherent thought Peter had was that the beeping noise assaulting his ears was extremely annoying. It felt like it was piercing his skull and he just wanted to get up and turn it off. But he couldn’t. He was tired. And there was an invisible weight pressing down on him. He felt heavy, but he also felt as if he was floating. It was a weird sensation.
Apparently, the assault on his ears wasn’t enough, because the next thing he noticed was the permeating smell of antiseptic. Ugh he hated that smell. And somewhere in his muddled brain, he figured he must be in a hospital. The smell gave it away.
Forcing himself to open his eyes, he looked around. May was asleep in the chair next to his bedside, her hand clutching his. She looked tired and stressed, even in her sleep. And somehow, opening his eyes and looking at his sleeping aunt jogged his memory. He had tried web-slinging from the top of the residential tower at 432 Park Avenue. He tried it in the windiest weather possible.
And now he was in the hospital.
Ugh. He was really fucking stupid.
“You awake, kid?” A voice from the doorway asked.
Peter jumped slightly, muted pain from his legs making itself known. In his drugged haze, he hadn’t realized Mr. Stark was standing there.
“Mis’er S’ark!” Peter said, tongue feeling two sizes too big and mouth as dry as the Sahara. Suddenly he realized he was very thirsty.
His mentor must have read his mind, because the next thing he knew, a straw and cup were being held to his mouth and he was ordered to drink. The water tasted glorious to his parched mouth and he found himself gulping it down quickly and greedily.
“How are you feeling, Pete?” Mr. Stark asked when he was finished drinking, gaze seeming to scrutinize him.
Peter took a moment to assess himself, but the contents of Mr. Stark’s last sentence finally seemed to dawn on him. “Wait—you’re not gonna lecture me?”
The man slowly raised one eyebrow, looking at Peter perceptively. “Oh, I’m going to lecture you, alright. But I want to wait for Aunt Hottie to wake up so we can corner you together.”
“Why? Its not like I can run away.” Peter pouted.
It looked as if Mr. Stark was just barely holding his retort in, sighing and rubbing his face in his hands. And after an awkward pause, he finally spoke again. “You didn’t answer my question. How are you feeling?”
“Um…” Peter said, taking a moment to truly assess himself this time. He honestly wasn’t feeling much pain at the moment. There, but not overwhelming. It was mostly dull. Not throbbing and blinding the way it was in the ambulance. “I’m okay. Can’t really feel much if I’m being honest.”
Mr. Stark nodded. “The drugs are doing their job then.”
Peter hummed in agreement letting his eyes drift shut. After all, his super painkillers were enough to knock him off his ass for days, and he didn’t really understand why he was awake right now in the first place. But despite the call to sleep he felt, he forced himself to open his eyes again. He still had so many questions.
He must have had a stupid, drugged look on his face, because when he opened his eyes, Mr. Stark said, “go to sleep, kid. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
Peter was more than happy to comply.