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Sparring with the Avengers always took a lot out of Peter.
He may be just as super as Captain Steve Rogers but he was in no way able to keep up with anyone remotely trained in hand-to-hand combat.
And Tony knew that. He knew that the kid always struggled to keep up with them, but hopefully throwing him into the midst of things would help him improve.
He wouldn’t improve while sparring with Steve Rogers himself they soon found out.
Tony and Natasha had had a word with him before they assigned the pairs, told him to take it easy on the kid, he’s still being broken in, and Steve had understood, said he reminded him of a little kid from Brooklyn who never knew quite when to give up.
The kid was doing well, he was properly fighting rather than his usual panic blocking. He was actually getting a couple of jabs in at the soldier before Steve took it a little too far and threw a hit a little before the kid was expecting, connecting right with the boy’s jaw.
Natasha, Tony and Steve all watched in horror as the kid was thrown back and his little head bounced off the cinder block wall with a pop and he dropped to the ground.
Everyone froze as they waited for the kid to move, but it didn’t seem much better when he rolled over into his stomach and brought his knees to his chest, hands pressed tightly to the back of his head as he whimpered.
Tony was out of the suit and across the room before anyone else could move.
“Hey, kid, hey, you’re alright, lemme see...”
There was no response other than ragged breathing and another small whimper.
“Tony...” Steve said, an element of fear evident in his voice, causing the man to look up towards him and then follow his gaze to the spot where Peter’s head had hit and he winced as the smear of blood standing out garishly on the white wall.
“Shit...” Tony breathed, before turning back to the kid, “shit, Pete, hey, come on, buddy, you gotta let me see it...”
Peter whimpered again before a small whine was let out into the blue crash mat.
Tony lay down on the floor, getting as close to the kid as he could.
“Hey, buddy, look at me for a sec, huh?”
Peter turned his head towards the voice but otherwise did nothing.
After a few more attempts at getting the kid to cooperate and getting nowhere, Tony decided to try a different approach.
“Think you can stand up for me, Pete? Or will I get Medical to send up a stretcher?”
Peter breathed out slowly and shakily in lieu of a response.
“Think you can stand?” Tony questioned again, grabbing onto his shoulders and gently guiding him upwards.
Peter slowly pulled his leg up and placed his foot flat on the ground and Tony adjusted his grip to support him better, wincing at the blood smeared on the fingers that were still placed tightly to the back of his head.
It wasn’t Tony’s first time helping the kid up after a bad fall, and he could tell that he was supporting most of the kid’s weight before his knees buckled and Steve moved in to help.
Between the two of them they got Peter in a manageable hold and slowly led him towards the door. They weren’t too far from Medical, but the kid had yet to open his screwed-shut eyes and was mumbling weakly, each step coming slower than the last.
“We’re almost there, son,” Steve said quietly, however the words were lost on the kid as his knees buckled again and he curled in on himself before he had hit the floor.
“Whoa, there, big guy,” Tony hummed, crouching down beside the boy, “bit too far, huh?”
Peter moved like he was going to say something but the words seemed to be too far away from him and came out in more of a groan.
“Son?” Steve asked tentatively, and his fears came true as the kid opened his mouth and a thin stream of vomit was forced from his lips with a grunt.
“All right, kid, lets go,” he said, picking him up and hauling him over his shoulder before making his way to the Medbay.
When they reached the large room they were met by Dr Cho, who immediately led them over to a bed. Once sat upon it, Peter tried to lie down but Steve held him up.
“You gotta let us see it, kid.”
Peter shakily loosened the grip on his head but kept his hands near in case someone dared to touch it.
Once Peter’s hands were clear, both Steve and Tony audibly hissed at the huge bump and gash across the back of his head.
Cho returned with her latex gloves and gauze to peer at the boy’s head.
“How’re you feeling, buddy? Still feel sick?” Tony asked him gently as Steve explained to Cho what had happened.
Peter swayed where he sat, not having the coherency to reply.
He whimpered as Cho gently used the kid’s jaw to tilt his head forward for a better angle.
“You’ll be alright, kiddo, don’t you worry,” Tony soothed, watching as Steve and Cho nodded to each other and Steve placed a broad arm across the kid’s shoulders to hold him steady.
Tony raised an eyebrow in question but Steve just nodded towards Cho, who was collecting everything she needed to stitch the kid up.
Tony was about to say something but Peter cut him off with an unintelligible mumble. Steve and Tony shared a look.
“What was that, buddy?” Tony questioned, tilting the kid’s head upwards with a finger under his chin. “Didn’t quite catch that.”
Peter whimpered, this time more urgently as he slurred out an indecipherable sentence, and would have tilted forward into Tony’s arms if Steve hadn’t been holding him steady.
Tony still cursed when the kid’s head dropped to his chest and his shoulders slumped.
Steve adjusted his grip on the teen as Cho returned.
Both men gave her a pleading look.
“Is he out?” Cho asked, eyebrows raised.
“Looks like it,” Tony replied, tapping gently on the kid’s cheek.
“Alright, set him down gently on his left side, Tony, bend his knee- yep, there we go,” she hummed as the boy was laid out on the table.
“You guys can wait outside, I’ll only be a few minutes,” she stated, pulling on a fresh set of gloves as she got the kid’s head adjusted to a more manageable position.
Tony and Steve shared another look and Steve grabbed his arm before Tony had a chance to fight back about being asked to leave.
“Kid, I’m so, so sorry,” Steve said, for the tenth time that evening.
Peter just sat on the sofa, his legs curled underneath him as he held one ice pack to the back of his head and another to his swollen jaw. Natasha had helped the kid wash his hair and he was now dressed in pyjama bottoms and a hoodie, his wet curls hanging in his eyes as he sucked on a juice pop.
“Mr Rogers, it’s fine, really. I don’t even remember it,” he shrugged, closing his eyes against the pounding in his head. Tony had Friday turn the music down a little bit more, the only activity in the tower that Peter could do for the next two days that didn’t involve screens.
“But you’re still learning, and I got ahead of myself, I was just so impressed at how- how quickly you were picking things up, I-I just-”
Tony could sense that Steve was getting frantic in his effort to apologise, and from the look on the kid’s face he could tell that the the unnecessary noise was getting to him.
“Cap, seriously, the kid’s fine, he says it, Cho says it, that’s it. All is forgiven. I think it’s time we went to bed, huh buddy?” Tony asked warmly, rubbing a hand across the kid’s shoulders.
Peter, eyes still shut with a pained look on his face, nodded shortly.
“And if the Captain is still beating himself up about it in the morning I think we can guilt our way into some pancakes, how does that sound?” Tony said, giving Steve a knowing look.
Peter smiled at that, eyes still shut, but seemingly more relaxed.
“Let me get a quick look at that before we head up, yeah?” Tony asked.
Peter gently moved the ice pack away from his head and Tony clicked his tongue.
“That’s looking a lot better now, buddy, that bump is almost gone,” Tony hummed, giving the kid’s shoulder an encouraging pat. “Let’s go.”
As Tony led the kid towards the doorway, Steve called out again, “I’m real sorry, son!”
“Don’t worry about it, Mr Rogers,” came the quiet, but fond reply.