Work Text:
Peter stretched lazily on the queen sized bed in his room at the compound. Over the past couple of months Tony had started to trust him with more responsibilities – starting with introductions to the right people at the NYPD and now leading up to missions with the whole team.
While the accords, for the most part, had been dismantled and were being rewritten by Tony, Steve, Pepper and a team of the most intimidating Stark Industries lawyers Peter had ever met, there was still a committee with the United Nations that could submit formal requests to the Avengers. This led to many smaller outings with just select members of the team based on the skill set required. There hadn’t been any major catastrophes since the Ultron thing but the Ten Rings and HYDRA were a constant thorn in the side of the majority of the free world.
In this particular case, a smaller, more radical faction of the Ten Rings had grabbed the daughter of some important political figure in the Ukraine and were holding her for ransom. Politics were not really Peter’s speciality (he would leave that to MJ thanks) but he did understand that it was very important for the progressive party (and a good portion of the rest of the world) that this man get elected. Kind of hard to do when the only way he could guarantee his daughter’s safety was to pull out of the elections and let the other guy win. From there it had been a surprisingly quick committee meeting with the UN to decide that the Avengers had their ‘blessing’ to commit espionage in a foreign country on their behalf.
What had not been quick had been the heated debate between Steve and Tony on who to send.
The obvious choices would be Natasha (literally the greatest spy in the world as far as Peter was concerned), Clint (not a slouch in the whole ‘International Super Spy’ department either and the best partner for Nat) and Sam (still a relative unknown face when he wasn’t in his full Falcon get up with plenty of military training and medical training as a pararescue). But, because nothing could ever be easy, the only one mission ready was Sam. Natasha was still nursing a broken collarbone from a snatch and grab information retrieval three weeks before in Syria and Clint was at home with his kids, all three of which had the flu.
To be honest, none of the team really wanted to be in his vicinity until well after everyone was recovered and no longer contagious.
At this point, Steve had volunteered himself to go with Sam and had recommended Peter to be their third. The next part Peter can only really imagine since he was at school at the time, but Happy told him later that it was a real epic argument. Tony had been much more comfortable with Peter going on missions close to home; recently he had helped to break up a child trafficking ring and had participated in two drugs busts and the systematic breakdown of one of the mid-sized New York gangs. Each mission had gone off without a hitch and left Peter with quite the adrenaline high; he was not only making a difference for the little guy but he was part of the team and with no extra strings attached.
But all of these missions had taken place firmly in New York and the surrounding states. And always on a Friday night so he could have the rest of the weekend to recuperate and finish his homework in time for school Monday. This would be his first mission overseas, in the middle of the week and, the kicker, without Mr. Stark.
After the Vulture debacle, his attendance had been perfect. Mr. Stark and, surprisingly, Sam, had spent a lot of time talking about work/life balance and why it was unhealthy to put everything on hold in his personal life for his Spider-Man activities. Of course he resisted for a while, he was still a teenager after all, but the schedule they helped him make really was reasonable and did help. And, added bonus, it made Aunt May WAY more agreeable to the whole vigilante-JV-Avenger-in-training thing. It also allowed time for training with Natasha and Steve (he only fanboy’ed for, like, 5 seconds) and more time with Ned to have lego and movie nights. It even gave some extra time for him to realize the feelings he had for MJ and to awkwardly dance around the subject until she finally rolled her eyes and interrupted his stuttering to ask him out for coffee.
The heckling he got from the rest of the team when he showed up late to a team dinner still dopey and blushing was totally worth it. Even if he did have to endure watching the Captain America PSA on safe sex with Clint and Tony cackling in the background (Cap had been mortified and had personally apologized for any undue trauma that Peter had gone through).
(He was repressing the detailed discussion May had with him and the box of condoms that appeared on his nightstand. She had always been practical and the nursing field had allowed her to have the ‘talk’ with little to no embarrassment; Peter not so much.)
All this to say that, while he felt prepared and totally ready to go on his first high level mission, he was still nervous. He had come to rely on the knowledge that Mr. Stark would be there if he needed him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sam and Steve but they weren’t Tony. They weren’t the ones who helped him with his suit and his homework and let him build things in the lab. They didn’t come to his decathlon meets or hold his hand while he got his first set of stitches without proper numbing or pain control because his biology was more complicated than anyone would have guessed and sucked for drug development. Mr. Stark was way more than a mentor to him and had always been a security blanket on any major Spider-Man deployments.
So did he feel ready? Yes. Was he nervous as all hell? Also yes.
And, since he had grown as a person and wasn’t as much of a dumbass as he used to be thank you very much, he voiced all these things to Tony and Steve. He had learned that it was okay to be honest about insecurities ever since the panic attack he had in a recovery room after he had fucked up hard at a basic mugging and had gotten himself concussed and let the bad guy get away with someone’s wallet. A surprisingly open and honest conversation with Tony and a couple of introductory therapy sessions with Sam and then a Psychologist later and he had started to learn that it was okay to ask for help and to make mistakes. He was still having a hard time with guilt and some new fun triggers from his freshly diagnosed PTSD but he was learning how to handle it.
Even though Peter knew they were on a time crunch, he appreciated the fact that Steve took the time to methodically go through every aspect of the mission with him. According to the sparse conversations he had with Bucky about growing up in the thirties, Steve liked to shoot first and aim never which got him into a lot of trouble as a kid. Bucky had always told him these things pointedly while making unblinking eye contact like he thought Peter might be the same. At the end of the briefing Peter took a second to think and then agreed. Tony looked a bit put out but handed over a comm link that was impervious to EMPs for him to use and his back up web-shooters.
From there things were kind of a blur as he called May to get permission (he caught her right after lunch too – she was in Seattle for the next 2 weeks for training on her new speciality, trauma) and then Ned and MJ to let them know that he was going out of town for his ‘internship’ so they could give the same cover story if asked. They both wished him luck and then he was on a quinjet and flying across the Atlantic. He even got a rare hug instead of their customary fist-bump from Harley in the hanger just before boarding.
The mission itself had gone very well for the most part. Sam and Steve were excellent distractions for him to sneak in and rescue the girl. They were able to incapacitate everyone with no casualties on either side and minimal injuries. Sam had a couple of bruised ribs and Steve a sprained ankle. Peter had taken a knife in the gut to protect their target but, apart from the fatigue and aches that came with blood loss, was doing well. Sam had efficiently cleaned and bandaged Peter’s abdomen, wrapped Steve’s ankle and taped his own ribs in record time. By the time they returned to the compound on Friday afternoon, Steve’s ankle could hold his weight and the wound on Peter’s abdomen had a fragile layer of new skin forming. After a quick trip to the MedBay to get the all clear from Dr. Cho and a not so quick debriefing with the UN and a pat down from Tony, Peter was free to shower and collapse on his bed.
Stretching indulgently, Peter considered the benefits of a nap before dinner but his decision was ultimately taken out of his hands by Harley bounding into his room and landing across his legs. Peter released a whine in protest.
“Please,” Harley said with an eye roll as he eel-ed across the bed so that he was sitting perpendicular to Peter with his legs resting across the small of his back, “if that’s what going to take you out you might want to reconsider your day job.”
Peter released a sigh and rolled over toward Harley, dragging a pillow over his face and adjusting slightly so Harley’s knees didn’t rest directly on his still aching stab wound. “I was napping,” he groaned into the pillow, “can I have no peace? Has god truly forsaken this timeline?” He questioned.
“You’re an actual toddler,” Harley huffed, pulling the pillow from Peter and poking him in the cheek, “and so dramatic. You have clearly been hanging around Tony too much.”
“I’m telling him you called him a dramatic toddler,” Peter answered, letting his eyes open a slit. Harley snorted.
“Bet. I’ve one hundred percent said the same thing if not something similar to him at least once in the past week if not the last three days,” he paused a pensive look on his face. “No definitely the last three days – he was a wreck while you were away.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I totally handled it. Look at me handling it,” he gestured to himself, trying to control the wince when his flailing pulled at the still healing wound on his side. He frowned slightly and made a mental note to have Tony look at it before he went to bed to see if it was healing normally. “Anyway, what do you want?”
“Oh I see how it is,” Harley said dramatically, shaking his head in disappointment, “here I am, your brother-in-arms in mentee-ship, only wanting to make sure that you made it back in one piece and to offer the olive branch of pizza and Star Wars but, fine. I’m sure I can choke down three large pizzas from Marios. No no,” he waved a hand at Peter’s spluttering, “I won’t enjoy it, but I am a spiteful son-of-a-bitch so I’ll manage it somehow.”
Peter abruptly rolled off the bed, leaving Harley to yelp in surprise as his center of gravity shifted and he nearly slipped off the edge. “Who am I to deny such kindness,” Peter questioned backing his way out of the room while Harley pulled himself up, “First one to the living room gets to pick the movie order!”
“Don’t you dare Parker!” Harley shouted as he struggled out of the bed, only hearing Peter’s laugh echoing down the hall as he took off in the direction of the living room. “We are not starting with Episode I! Jar Jar is a garbage character and you know it! Parker!”
Between eating his weight in pizza with Harley and FaceTiming MJ and Ned to have an epic Star Wars marathon, Peter forgot completely about having Tony check his still aching side. And if it started burning by the mid point of Revenge of the Sith? Well they had been laughing a lot hadn’t they? As he nodded off on the couch to MJ’s sleepy commentary and Harley and Ned’s snoring, Peter was sure that things would be better in the morning.
Things were not better in the morning.
Peter woke up to a dead phone, the TV still quietly playing Star Wars in the background (Rogue One) and the grey pre-dawn light.
And he was freezing.
Ever since the Bite he had a hard time thermoregulating but Tony always made sure to keep the compound, and especially his personal suite where Peter frequently stayed, warmer than usual to compensate. Even in the dead of winter Peter couldn’t remember ever getting cold in the compound or tower. Blinking in tired confusion, Peter lifted a clumsy and shaking hand to grab the blanket draped over the back of the couch and tangled up under Harley’s legs. His first pull didn’t result in much movement and, wrinkling his brow in confusion, he put a bit more strength into his next tug.
Maybe too much strength since it not only pulled the blanket off the back of the couch but also from under Harley’s legs, catapulting him off the couch and onto the rug, very narrowly avoiding braining him on the dark wood coffee table.
“The fuck Parker,” he grunted out, rubbing his elbow and sitting up to glare at him.
“C-cold,” Peter mumbled as he tried to curl up in a tight ball under the blanket but stopped with a gasp when his side burned sinisterly.
At this Harley popped up and put his hand to Peter’s forehead, frowning at the heat he felt pouring off. “Hot I think you mean,” he muttered. “Tony said your injuries were minor and already half healed when you got back. Are you sick or hiding something?”
Peter shook his head lethargically. “Only stabbed a little,” he muttered leaning away from Harley’s icy hand. “Ugh. Feel sick,” he finished with a gag, curling a protective hand over his abdomen.
“Shit,” Harley cursed as he pulled Peter up off the couch. The boy in question whined at the loss of his blanket and stumbled as the shift caused him to get dizzy. “FRI can you let Tony know?” Harley directed at the ceiling as he draped Peter’s arm over his shoulder and started dragging him in the direction of the bathroom.
“Already done Mr. Keener,” the disembodied voice of Tony’s AI said from the hidden speakers littered around the room, “he is on his way.”
“Great, come on Pete,” Harley said, shouldering open the bathroom door as the automatic lights came on and gently lowering Peter to the floor in front of the toilet. The boy in question gagged again and flipped the lid up to retch into the bowl, only managing to dry heave. Harley wrinkled his nose in disgust but squatted down next to his friend to rub gently at his back. “Just hark it up buddy, you’ll feel so much better.” Turning a little paler and slightly green, Peter finally lost the battle with his stomach, vomiting up burning acid and bile – the pizza from the night before long digested by his enhanced metabolism.
That was how Tony found them a minute later as he stumbled into the door frame, hair still messy and a line on his face from clearly falling asleep at the desk in his workshop. “Jeez kid,” he mumbled as he picked his way over the gangly limbs of the two teens to sit on the edge of the tub and run gentle fingers over Peter’s burning forehead and into his damp hair. Peter just retched again. “What happened?” He asked Harley.
“I don’t know,” Harley responded, standing up to wet a washcloth in the sink. “He was fine last night! We ate a shit ton of pizza and watched some movies and he acted normal. I mean his side was still a little tender I guess but he said he had been stabbed and that it was already healing.” Harley shook his head. “He accidentally knocked me off the couch and said he was cold and he was going to be sick.”
Tony nodded and accepted the washcloth, wiping the sweat from Peter’s neck and resting the cloth against his pulse point, frowning when he felt it galloping under his fingers. “Can I get some vitals FRI?” He asked, noting gratefully that Peter was wearing his StarkWatch.
“Mr. Parker’s temperature is currently 102.8 degrees and his heart rate is 115 beats per minute. His SPO2 is normal at 98%. I am unable to determine a fully accurate blood pressure without a BP cuff.” FRIDAY reported.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Tony said, running his fingers gently through the kid’s disheveled curls. “Can you let the nursing staff in the MedBay know we will be down shortly and page Dr. Cho?”
“Of course Boss,” FRIDAY reported, “I have passed on Peter’s history and vitals and they are preparing for him now.”
“Thanks. Harley why don’t you run down and grab a wheelchair?” Harley nodded and stood up, moving toward the door.
“No. No wheelchair,” Peter ground out, gagging lightly before spitting out the building saliva in his mouth. “Just help me up, I can walk.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea kiddo,” Tony told him, offering a steadying hand as Peter shifted to stand, leaning the majority of his weight on the counter.
“I’ll be fine Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled as he staggered a little and Harley caught him. Tony rolled his eyes but gently ducked under Peter’s arm to support his weight, ignoring the twinge in his back.
“Fine. We can try,” Tony said as they started moving to the elevator, “but, I swear to god Peter, you even look like you might pass out and the deal is off.” Peter, not trusting his remaining stomach contents to stay where they were, nodded once and closed his eyes as he swallowed painfully. Harley, for his part, rolled his eyes at both of them but tucked himself close to Peter’s other side in case he needed more support.
Luckily for all involved, the MedBay was a short ride down a couple floors in the elevator and Peter, literally the politest person Tony had ever met, would rather die than fight with the nursing staff that met them at the elevator entrance and coaxed him into a wheelchair. Peter let out a little grunt as he sat, clutching at his abdomen and accepting the emesis basin someone handed him. It took next to no time at all to get him propped up on an exam bed in one of the rooms with a nurse taking his vitals and confirming his history while another prepared a blood draw kit. Harley stood in the corner out of the way but with sharp eyes following the proceedings. Tony did what he could to stay out of the way while sitting on the bed next to the kid and allowing Peter to lean anemically against him.
“What have we got?” Cho asked, no nonsense as she bustled in the room in scrubs and her hair up in a tight bun on her head looking like she had been up for hours and not for minutes. Tony needed to remember to give her a bonus, she was only around due to the mission and her plane to Seoul was supposed to leave in a few hours. He felt like she would probably be missing it.
“Patient presented for acute vomiting, chills and abdominal pain starting about 30 minutes ago when he woke up,” one of the nurses read out from a chart, “heart rate sitting at 118, respiratory rate 46. He’s running a fever of 102.9 and has an SPO2 of 98%. Blood pressure 87/60 and a history of a stab wound to the lower right quadrant treated en route to the compound yesterday and well on its way to healing by the time he arrived. Per the records provided by FRIDAY he has had some sensitivity with the area around the laceration. No medications at this time.” The nurse finished as Cho washed her hands and put on a pair of gloves before approaching the bed.
“Hey Peter,” she said, pulling the stethoscope from around her neck and starting to fit it into her ears, “I’m going to examine you okay? Let me know if you feel any discomfort.” She placed the bell to his back and asked him to try and take some deep breathes which caused him to pale considerably and retch into the emesis basin in his lap. Cho’s eyes pinched in sympathy as she removed the bell from his back and placed it on his chest over his heart, listening for a second. She pulled the buds out of her ears and draped it back around her neck, reaching out to gently feel at Peter’s lymph nodes in his neck and to check his eyes. “Can you lay back for me? I want to see how things are healing.”
Tony shifted off the bed and helped Peter recline back, gently grabbing the hand he had wrapped around his abdomen and tangling their fingers together. Cho lifted up Peter’s shirt and frowned slightly, “Let me know if anything hurts or if you need to vomit okay?” At Peter’s nod, she carefully removed the telfa pad taped above Peter’s hip bone and probed lightly around the wound. At a glance everything looked fine, the skin was healing well and the scar looked weeks old but, unlike most injuries she was used to see on her enhanced patients, the area was swollen and tight. She probed the area a little harder and started to work her way out in a circle, Peter gasping and making an aborted movement to curl up and displace her hands. “Pretty painful huh?” She asked to which Peter nodded. “Does it hurt worse, the same or better the further away I get?” She asked as she moved to his upper right quadrant and then over the the upper left.
“Better but not by much,” Peter ground out, “the whole thing feels like a giant bruise.”
Cho nodded before helping Peter pull his shirt down and draping the warmed blanket one of the nurses handed her over him before removing her gloves and tossing them in the biohazard trash and turning to Tony. “I’m not a huge fan of his vitals or what I’m finding on exam. I’d like to start with some blood work and an ultrasound but I need to talk to his aunt to get permission for the tests and for the pain meds I’d like to start.”
“We filed the paperwork a few months ago that gives me permission to act on her behalf and to be included in his HIPPA documentation when she’s not here so go ahead and start. I’ll give her a call and let her know what’s going on and you can call her with the results?” Cho accepted the StarkPad from one of her assistants and flipped through Peter’s file to confirm the documentation before nodding.
“Great. Let’s start with a CBC, Chem 17 and Lytes and get an peripheral IVC placed for pain meds. Use Peter’s tier two analgesia at the low end dose of 3 mg/kgs and see what that does for us. Let’s also get an ultrasound tech down here to do a FAST scan of his abdomen. I also want him on a BP monitor, if it drops lower then we can intervene. Let me know when the blood work results come in and when the tech gets here.” She said as she left the room, already dictating into the mouthpiece that detached from the StarkPad in her hands.
Tony ran his fingers through Peter’s hair one more time, making eye contact. “I’m going to go call May and let her know what’s going on,” he started, putting his other hand over Peter’s mouth when he opened it, “don’t worry, I’ll tell her not to hop on a plane just yet.” Tony said, removing his palm from Peter’s mouth. “Behave yourself,” he said sarcastically, ignoring the eye roll and scandalized look from the teen as he walked out of the room, phone already to his ear.
Harley took this moment to sidle closer to the bed, sitting next to Peter on it with no regard for either of their personal space. “I’d offer to let you hold my hand but I like my fingers unbroken,” he snarked as he leaned against the cushy head board and knocked shoulders with his friend.
“I have better self control than that,” Peter grumbled as he allowed his right arm to be manipulated, squeezing the stress ball one of the nurses placed there as the disposable tourniquet was tied just below his bicep and averting his gaze as the nurse prepared the tubes and vacutainer she would be using to draw his blood.
“You literally broke a table in half last month.”
“That was one time,” Peter groaned, dramatically dropping his head back against the bed behind him, wincing slightly as the phlebotomist said ‘little poke’ and he felt the needle slide through his skin. Harley was silent through the blood draw process and fiddled with his phone with Peter reading Twitter posts and watching TikToks over his shoulder as an IV catheter was placed into his forearm and flushed, making him shiver lightly and wrinkle his nose at the taste of the saline.
Once placed, a different nurse approached him with a couple capped syringes, “Just going to give you some pain meds, Peter,” he said kindly as Peter offered up the arm with the IV. “It will burn a little and taste metallic but you should feel the effects pretty quickly. It might make you drowsy and dizzy, so don’t try to stand up and feel free to take a nap.” Peter nodded his consent with a small ‘thanks’ and returned to leaning over Harley’s shoulder to watch his scrolling through Instagram.
Peter was just starting to feel the effects of the drugs as Tony walked back in the room, tapping onto his own phone. “Hey Harley can you run up and grab Peter’s phone and one of the charging cases? May wants him to text her.” Harley eyed Tony for a second but hopped off the bed and trotted out of the room with a shouted ‘be right back’ over his shoulder.
“How you feeling kiddo?” Tony asked as he resumed his spot at Peter’s side.
“Tired,” he yawned in response, sinking further into the exam bed with the sound crinkling of paper. “What did May say?”
“She’s upset that she’s not here and even more upset that she can’t really leave. This is the last training session offered until next year and you know she needs the CE credits,” Peter nodded and blinked sluggishly, “but she’s glad that you were staying with me at least. She’s agreed not to freak out until we give her something to freak out about.”
“I don’t want her to freak out at all,” he mumbled, crossing his arms across his abdomen and shrugging the blanket up higher with a shiver.
“Just let me handle all that Buddy, you just rest and do what Dr. Cho says okay?” Peter nodded and closed his eyes, leaning into the hand that Tony had placed on his head. They had a couple more moments of silence before Dr. Cho re-entered the room with a tech pushing a cart with a ultrasound machine behind her.
“Well I’ve got the blood work results back. His white cell count is high as is his hematocrit, RBC and hemoglobin count. So he definitely has an infection and he is dehydrated, which his electrolyte panel confirms. His organ values are all within normal limits but his BUN, Creatine and SDMA are all trending higher than is normal for him so I want to keep an eye on those and do a urinalysis and a kidney panel if they start getting too high to make sure his kidney function remains normal.” Tony nodded along.
“Is the infection from getting stabbed?” Peter asked, arm tightening around his side sporting the wound, “Sam flushed it really well. Like, really well.” While he may be getting used to a veritable menagerie of injuries and all the ways to treat them, getting open lacerations flushed out always sucked and Sam was nothing if not thorough.
“I’m sure he did Peter,” Cho responded, “I checked it myself yesterday and it looked great so I don’t think the infection is from the injury itself which is why we are going to do an ultrasound. I also want to get a fluid sample from your abdomen at the same time to analyze the fluid so that we can determine what our treatment plan should be.” Tony watched as Harley snuck into the room and leaned back into the corner, brandishing Peter’s phone for Tony to see.
“I don’t think I really want a needle stabbed into my abdomen thanks,” Peter responded, shifting uncomfortably.
“Yeah I’m not going to say it will be a walk in the park but it is necessary. We can apply a topical numbing gel that should help with the base level of pain but it still won’t feel great.” Peter clutched the blanket tighter and still didn’t look too convinced but nodded along anyway. “I also put in orders to get you started on fluids and some broad spectrum antibiotics. I with I had an antiemetic for you but those are harder to synthesize for enhanced metabolisms but we can try pantoprazole at a higher dose to see if that helps with the acid any if your nausea gets any worse.” As she was saying this one of the nurses had been setting up the IV lines and fiddling with the infusion pumps before cleaning Peter’s catheter port with an alcohol wipe and attaching the lines. Peter shivered at the feeling of the room temperature fluids – he always hated them.
“Do I need to move or anything?” Tony questioned as he grabbed Peters’s hand and help support him as the ultrasound tech engaged the mechanism that would lower the bed mostly flat.
“You should be fine,” She responded. “Hi Peter, I’m Natalie by the way. I’m going to do your FAST scan and your paracentesis, do you mind pulling your shirt up to your chest for me?” Peter looked longingly at the warm blanket but removed it and, with Tony’s help since his hands felt extra clumsy from the pain meds, bunched his shirt up to his armpits. “This is probably going to be uncomfortable even with the pain relief that you’ve been given since I have to press in pretty firmly to get a good image but let me know if you need a break ok?”
“Sure,” Peter responded. Playing a game of ‘anywhere but here’ as the technician adjusted the right side of his sweats down a bit and placed a surgical towel in the lining to protect the fabric.
“Great! I made sure I grabbed the warmed gel,” she said conspiratorially as she shook the bottle firmly and squeezed a large dollop onto his his lower right side just above his hip. “Here comes the pressure,” she warned as she grabbed the wand and pressed it firmly into Peter’s side. Peter gave a soft grunt and tensed but otherwise didn’t react, Tony squeezed his hand in sympathy and stared at the screen, attempting to make sense of the grey and black blobs.
Natalie took a few still shots that she saved to the machine, a frown pulling at the corner of her mouth. Cho stood over her shoulder and squinted at the image. “Okay Peter, I’m going to get that fluid sample now,” Natalie said as she accepted the syringe from a assistant into her gloved hands. “The gel I’ve been using has a numbing agent in it but you will still likely feel a big pinch. Try not to move, it should only take a second.” Tony turned Peter’s head away so he couldn’t see and averted his eyes – the syringe and attached needle weren’t exactly small and, as often as he had been poked and prodded through his life as both a party boy and a superhero he still got a little squeamish around needles.
He knew when it entered though since Peter tensed further and hissed through his teeth. It only took a second before he relaxed a bit and Natalie said “All done with that. Just going to clean off the gel and apply a light pressure bandage.”
“What did you see?” Harley asked from the corner, making all of them jump a little. Honestly, Tony forgot the kid was there.
Cho and Natalie exchanged a look and then Cho locked eyes with Harley, then Tony then Peter.
“You have a fair amount of fluid in your abdomen, Peter, have you been feeling bloated at all?”
“Maybe a little?” Peter admitted, pulling his shirt back down and sitting up with Tony’s help, the bed adjusting to help support him.
Dr. Cho nodded as if he was just confirming what she already knew. “Your metabolism and healing factor always makes things a little more interesting,” she said with a sardonic smile. “Based on the scan, and I’m postulating here a little since you have already healed a fair bit, it looks like the knife that stabbed you may have nicked your appendix.” Peter blinked at her stunned.
“But it didn’t hurt more than normal? I mean I’ve been stabbed more than most people and this didn’t feel any different?” He phrased both sentences as a question, gripping at his side as he spoke.
Cho nodded. “You’re healing focused pretty quickly on sealing the laceration in your appendix, we can see where it looks like the tissue has knit itself back together, but it didn’t stop some intestinal material from leaking out into your abdomen. Unfortunately, your healing factor can’t really do anything until you already have inflammation and an infection and, in this particular case, your healing is working a bit against you since it naturally wants to bring more blood to the area and cause more inflammation.”
“So what are you saying doc?” Tony questioned.
“I want the results back from the fluid analysis, but, based on our current findings, it looks like Peter has something called peritonitis which, simply, is an infection and the subsequent inflammation of the abdominal wall. The good news is that we have already started antibiotics which is the first step to treatment.”
“And the next step?” Peter asked hoarsely.
“The next steep would be to consult with a general surgeon about going in and flushing out your abdomen with saline and an antibiotic solution. And to prophylactically remove your appendix since the trauma will most likely cause you to get appendicitis.”
Peter’s breathing picked up some and Harley and Tony both froze. “But you don’t have anesthesia developed for me yet right? You said a few months ago when we did my evaluation that you hadn’t been able to develop any that would work the the spider part of my DNA.”
“That’s true,” Cho admitted slowly, “But we do have things that we can use to numb you from the chest down. You wouldn’t be able to feel anything.”
“So he would just be awake on the table with you cutting into him?” Harley asked from the corner, horrified.
“While its not how any of us would like to proceed, yes, he would be awake.”
“Fuck,” Harley muttered as Tony slipped his arm around Peter’s shoulders.
“It’s fine Underoos,” he said, hugging the kid close. “I know it’s a sterile room and this is not really normal but could he have someone with him? Or a couple people?”
“That should… be fine,” Cho responded. “I don’t want to give a definite answer yet. Dr. Summers will be doing the surgery, but I don’t think he will have too much of a problem with it based on the circumstances. And we can use high doses of isoflurane or sevoflurane gas if we have to but I haven’t been able to run many simulations against his DNA with it so I don’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary.”
“What if we didn’t do the surgery?” Peter asked. “What if we just tried the antibiotics first?”
“That is an option but it also leaves you open to becoming septic if you get any worse. As it is you’re borderline based on your white count, fever and blood pressure. I wouldn’t recommend that protocol unless we had no other options.”
“It’ll be fine, Pete.” Tony said. “I know its not exactly comforting to be awake for surgery but I’ll be there with you the whole time if you want me to. Whoever you want, just name them. We can even use the comm links if you want so your sensitive spider-kid hearing can’t hear what the surgical team is saying and the sensory goggles if you don’t want to see what’s going on. Okay kiddo?”
“Yeah,” Peter croaked out. “We have some time right? I want to call May. And Ned and MJ.”
Harley snorted from the corner. “Happy left to pick up Ned and MJ thirty minutes ago – they should be here in a bit.” Peter shot him a thankful look.
“We have time,” Cho responded. “Dr. Summers has to prepare and we have to get the surgical suite set up for you. It’s about 8 AM now so your surgical time probably won’t be until early this afternoon. For now, I want to get you formally admitted and start your fluids at a higher maintenance rate to flush your kidneys and work on rehydrating you. The anesthesiologist will meet with you about an hour before to place the epidural line for the surgery. After the first dose of nerve blockers you will be effectively paralyzed from about mid chest down and you and I can talk privately about what that will mean beforehand.”
Peter blushed and averted his eyes but nodded.
“Until then I’m going to get you a PCA pump for your pain meds and the nursing staff is going to get some monitoring equipment set up and get you in a more comfortable room. I also want to start a hetastarch infusion to see if we can get your blood pressure back closer to normal. And I’m going to put in a NPO order, so nothing by mouth until after the surgery and blood glucose checks every 3 hours just to make sure your sugar isn’t bottoming out with your metabolism running in overdrive right now.” She gave Peter a soft glance. “And please let me know if you have any questions at all Peter. I know all of this is more than a little nerve wracking and overwhelming. No one will do anything without your approval the whole way okay?”
“Okay. Thanks Dr. Cho,” Peter responded with a polite smile, still looking worried. Tony squeezed his shoulder tightly and he felt a little more grounded. Everything would be okay.
“I’m fine, May. Please don’t leave now and come back, this is your last chance for the next 6 months to do this training!” Peter pleaded into the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he fiddled with the wire attached the the SPO2 clamp on his finger. “Mr. Stark is here and Harley and Happy even went to get Ned and MJ so I’m not alone. And, even if none of them were here there’s literally a tower full of Avengers that could hang out with me,” he thought for a second, “and, besides, even if you took a quinjet, you wouldn’t be back before my surgery.”
May sighed through the phone. “I know, baby, but I just don’t like being so far away when you need me.”
“I’ll always need you, May,” Peter said, voice shaking a little. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and was glad that he had the foresight to kick Mr. Stark and Harley out so that he could have this conversation without an audience. “But you can’t just put your life on hold for me. This is important to you and I’ll be healed before you know it,” he said, trying to sound peppy, “besides, Mr. Stark promised to fly in gelato and pizza from Italy for a movie marathon once I get out of here. I think Harley is trying to convince him that the place on 34th has better ice cream.”
May let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Of course he is, he doesn’t do anything by halves does he?” She questioned rhetorically causing Peter to let out a wet cackle. “But, Peter,” May sobered up, “I may not be able to get there in time for the procedure itself but I can be there for your recovery. I love my job but you are so much more important, baby. You know I would do anything for you.”
“I know, May,” Peter sniffled, chest feeling warm, “but you should stay. I can call you after and we can FaceTime tonight.”
“Okay,” She sighed. “But if you change your mind at any point I will get on the next flight out and be there as soon as I can okay?”
“Okay. I love you May.”
“I love you too, Peter,” May said with a sniffle of her own. “Now get some rest, okay? I know those enhanced pain killers they made you make you tired, just relax and I’ll talk to you in a little bit.” Wishing his aunt goodbye, Peter locked the phone and tossed it onto the rolling tray next to the bed and leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. May was right – the super soldier drugs developed for actual Captain America and then modified for him really did pack a punch. Peter was not looking forward to the weaning off period and accompanied headache he would get to enjoy in a few days.
But, damn, if it wasn’t some of the best sleep he ever had when he got them.
“You awake in there Webs?” Mr. Stark questioned, poking his head into the darkened room. Peter rolled his head to the side to make bleary eye contact and shrugged one shoulder lightly. Taking that as all the permission he needed, Tony walked into the room and closed the door quietly behind him, hopefully everyone who might visit Peter would interpret it correctly as the need for privacy. “How you feeling kiddo?” Tony asked, gently ruffling Peter’s hair from his bedside.
Peter squinted a little and took an aborted breath before answering honestly, “Tired,” he considered for a moment, “maybe a little dizzy still?”
“But not too much pain?”
“Eh,” Peter shrugged again, “I can kinda tell its there but not really? It’s hard to describe.”
“We can work with that I think,” Tony said brightly, perching on the plush chair next to the bed (what? You think he would have shitty chairs in hisMedBay? Not likely.), “But you didn’t really answer my questions completely, kid. How are you feeling?”
Peter swallowed compulsively and gave Tony a watery smile. Pain meds always made it harder to keep his emotions to himself. “I’m okay. I mean I’m anxious and nervous and kinda freaking out because isn’t it, like, everyone’s worst nightmare to wake up in surgery? And I just have to have the whole thing awake? I mean what if something goes wrong?” Peter’s breathing had picked up and he clamped his eyes shut and tried to work through some of the breathing exercises he had been taught.
“Hey, Peter, hey,” Tony said as he grabbed Peter’s chin and snapped his fingers a few times to get his attention and get him to open up his eyes, “Focus up, Underoos, you with me?” At Peter’s hesitant nod, Tony continued. “I know its scary, fuck, its terrifying. Surgery freaks us all out, I mean I walked around with literal shrapnel in my chest for how long before I worked up the balls to get it removed?”
Tony paused, adjusting his hands to sit on his kid’s shoulders, “But you won’t be alone, okay? I’ll be there with you every step of the way if you want. Hell, we can make it a regular party and bring Harley and Ted and your scary girlfriend. Whatever makes you comfortable kiddo. Okay?”
“Just you,” Peter gasped out, tipping forward and wrapping his arms around Tony, ignoring the pulling sensation from the IV, the various monitors and the slight burning in his side. “I love MJ. And Harley and Ned too but I don’t… I just…” Peter trailed off and hugged Tony harder.
“That’s okay,” Tony murmured, gently rubbing his hand up and down Peter’s spine. “That’s fine.” He spent the next few minutes gently rocking the kid back and forth and rubbing his back until he felt him relaxing into his arms and going boneless. Slowly, Tony lowered him back to the bed and started to lower the head back so Peter was more reclined. For his part, Peter blinked sleepily, his lids staying closed longer and longer with each blink. “Just rest for now, okay kiddo? Let the drugs do their job.” Peter blinked one more time and his eyes didn’t open again. Tony continued to run his hands through his hair for a few more seconds before whispering “FRI, lights to 40%,” and sneaking quietly out the door, shutting it behind him…
… only to run right into Harley and the kid’s friends.
“Stark,” MJ intoned, attempting to look indifferent like usual but Tony could clearly see how worried she was in the pinched skin around her mouth. Ned, bless him, still looked at Tony like he was a god even though he was in and out of the tower with Peter a fair amount these days. Harley, for his part, just tried to side-step him and push his way through the door.
“Hold up there Andretti,” he said, grabbing Harley’s shoulders and preventing him from going in the room, “he just fell asleep and I don’t need you loud bunch of hooligans waking him up. FRIDAY will alert you when he’s awake and ready for visitors.”
“But how is he,” Ned asked nervously, wringing his hands and leaning to the side to peek around Tony at the closed door.
“As good as he can be. The pain meds make him tired but at least they are working pretty well for now,” he considered the group of teenagers in front of him. “I’m seriously doubting any of you have had breakfast, correct? No, don’t answer that, I’m right of course. FRIDAY be a doll and get a pot of coffee brewing and see if anyone competent is around that can cook breakfast. Not Rogers, we don’t need a repeat of last time.”
“But we-” Harley started.
“Nah-uh-uh. The adult is making the decisions,” MJ’s eye twitch was directly reminiscent of Pepper’s holy shit, “you are all officially banned from my MedBay until you have eaten something. There’s literally nothing you can do down here except stare at a wall anyway. His surgery isn’t scheduled until this afternoon and I promise that you can see him before. And, for the love of god, Harley, put on something other than those ratty sweats. Jesus you’re a teenage cesspit in those, I don’t even want to know what those stains are. You know that we need to keep things clean down here right?”
“Just so you know, you aren’t fooling anyone,” Harley told him with a glare. “But fine, we’re going. You will tell us the second we can visit.” Not a question but Tony supposed he could let it slide.
“Deal. Skedaddle.” With much grumbling and teen angst, the three left to head up to the penthouse to, hopefully, eat and, in Harley’s case, change. “FIRDAY?” He said, pulling out his phone to text Pepper an update.
“Yes Boss?”
“Monitor Peter’s sleep pattern and let me know when he starts waking up or if anyone needs to go into his room for any reason. And let me know if the three musketeers try to access this floor.”
“I’m on it.”
Sending his text, Tony turned and started making his way to the small biomedical lab tucked away on the MedBay floor and sent a message up to Bruce. It was high time they finished analyzing Peter’s DNA and finalized his anesthetic.
The morning passed in a blur of pain meds for Peter. He vaguely remembered waking up when the nurses came in to check his vitals and get more blood samples. He woke up again to Mr. Stark running his hand through Peter’s hair while someone else pricked his finger and scrapped the blood on a machine but this time he stayed awake since the nurse who was checking his blood sugar inserted a second IV catheter into his other hand to start him on a new medication.
“Time is it?” He asked sleepily, picking lethargically at the side of the one-size-fits-all hospital gown he was in. It gaped at the neck a showed a lot of his collarbones making Peter feel both smaller than he was and slightly exposed. Tony looked up from the StarkPad he was working on before setting it gently to the side.
“About eleven. Your friends are here, I sent them up to the kitchen a few hours ago to eat and, according to FRIDAY, Wilson is still cooking. You know how he stress bakes,” Tony adjusted slightly in the chair and crossed his legs, tapping his foot in the air (one of his few nervous tics Peter noted). “Want me to call them down? I think Helen plans to come by in about an hour or so to go over the epidural with you and then the procedure with both of us and Dr. Summers.”
Peter paused in his picking for just a moment, “Sure.”
“You heard the man FRI,” Tony said. “You gonna be okay on your own or do your want me to hang? Still anxious?”
“I’m just not thinking about it, I guess, but I should be okay. Harley’s going to act super nonchalant about everything, MJ’s probably got her sketchbook and will add me to her ‘In Crisis’ series and Ned’s gonna cry one hundred percent,” Peter said with a tight grin and Tony snorted. “I think I’ll be okay with them.”
“Well I’ll be just down the hall in the lab if you need me okay? Just let FRIDAY know,” Tony said as he stood up and stretched, popping his back. “If you get tired you can kick them out you know.”
“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly, his fingers tapping a rhythm against his thigh.
“Anytime Bambino,” he said as he slipped out the door. The elevator down the hall was just opening to spill out Harley, Ned and MJ as he closed the door and he offered them a jaunty wave as he made his way past the lab and further into the depths of the MedBay to find Dr. Cho. The woman in question was at one of the empty nurses stations typing something into the computer and made eye contact as he walked up to lean on the counter in front of her.
“Give me just a second, Tony and I can be right with you,” she said, not looking up from the screen. With a nod of assent, Tony pulled out his phone to get an update from FRIDAY. Looks like Peter was right, Ned did start crying immediately but all the kids were laughing now at something Harley had pulled up on his phone and projected onto the Holo Screen in Peter’s room. He would never comprehend this generation’s attachment to weird internet trends. “Sorry about that,” Helen said, looking up and reclining back in her chair. “What can I do for you?”
“He’s hiding it pretty well but I can tell the kid’s freaking out,” he said bluntly, he received an understanding nod in response. “I wanted to get a preview of what the plan is, if I get surprised or freak out he’s going to freak out and that’s going to make things harder for everyone in the long run. What do I need to be worried about?”
“Well,” Helen started, kicking out the office chair next to her and offering Tony a seat which he accepted, “he’s holding pretty stable right now; his blood pressure is improving on the hetastarch and he’s responding well to the pain meds and antibiotics we synthesized for him. I was concerned since he’s only been on light doses of the analgesics and we haven’t used this version of his antibiotics before but he hasn’t shown any of the typical side effects. Given his specific situation and enhancements I would say that his prognosis is good.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”
“Not really a ‘but’ per say,” she said, “more a slight concern than anything,” She studied Tony. “I can tell his anxiety has been improving with help from his therapist but between that and his ‘Spider Sense’ the surgery itself is likely to be…rough,” Tony made a go on motion with his hand. “Well the whole point of his sixth sense is to detect danger right?”
“And cutting into him with sharp implements and digging around in his abdomen could definitely register as ‘dangerous’,” Tony concluded, dropping his head into his hands and massaging his temples. “I see your concern.”
Dr. Cho nodded grimly. “Based on his previous medical history and the notes from his aunt, he’s always had anxiety to some degree but it has gotten worse since his mutation. Regardless, I don’t have enhanced Ativan or Xanax to give him like I would other anxious patients. I do plan to give him the high end of his dose of his analgesics since they do make him drowsy and I’m hoping that between those and your distractions he will stay calm or sleep but this could go poorly,” She gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder. “I think the main thing we have to do is stay calm and collected to whole time to keep him relaxed.”
Tony blew out a breath. “I would ask if this situation could get any worse but, with our luck, it probably would.”
Dr. Cho let out a chuckle and turned back to face the computer, typing something into Peter’s digital chart. “I’m glad you came to find me, we do have one more thing to discuss before I meet up with the anesthesiologist.”
“I’m all ears.”
“When we go to start Peter on his epidural, you’re going to stay in the waiting area with the kid’s friends and find something to occupy your time with other than being in Peter’s room.”
Tony made a disgusted sound. “You’re going to be poking a big ass needle into the kid’s spine and you won’t let me be in there to keep him calm? Didn’t we just talk about this?”
“First of all,” Helen started, still typing away, “the needle isn’t that big and we will numb the area. The most he will feel is pressure,” She cut her eyes over to him briefly. “Also, once the epidural has started he will be numb from just above his diaphragm down so he won’t be able to walk. He’s also on a high rate of fluids.” She gave him a pointed look and rolled her eyes at his confused face. “Think about it, Tony. Where will all the fluid go?”
“Oh shit,” Tony said, a pitying look on his face. “Poor kid. Yeah, I imagine he won’t want me around for that.”
“You think?” Helen asked sarcastically with an eye roll. Her pager left of a couple quick beeps and she pulled it from her waistband to look at it. “That’ll be Dr. Summers. I’m going to go meet him to go over Peter’s case really quick and then I’ll be down to go over the epidural with Peter.”
“Ok,” Tony said, standing up a stretching lightly before pulling out his phone to type a message to Harley. “I’m going to go work on some of the kid’s meds in the lab down the hall. Harley knows that once you kick the musketeers out they need to go fuck around in the penthouse until after the surgery. You’ll let me know once you’re ready to do the pre-op meeting with Dr. Summers?”
“Of course,” she said, gathering up the stack of papers that had migrated around the desk. “And I’ll let you know if he does want you for the epidural.”
“Thanks,” Tony said, still typing away on his phone to give both May and Pepper an update. The automatic doors of the biomedical lab open with a soft ‘whoosh’ of cool air billowing out and the lights turned on, holo tables and screens illuminating with a gentle blue glow. “Pull up the latest iteration of the enhanced spider-anesthesia for me, FRI, and run some diagnostics on the tests. I want to know why the simulation failed.”
Unsurprisingly, Tony did not receive a call from Helen to come hold Peter’s hand for the epidural. By the time lunch had passed and the clock was ticking closer to one than noon he was unable to focus on FRIDAYs reports and was tapping anxiously on the table in front of him, causing the lights to change in brightness with each rhythm change.
“Boss, Dr. Cho said she and Dr. Summers will be ready to meet with you and Peter in just a moment. They are headed down to his room now.”
“About time,” he grumbled as he jumped up from the stool he had been twisting back and forth on and making his way swiftly to the door. He had made very little progress on the anesthesia formula over the morning; he wasn’t very well versed in gross, squishy things. He had sent Bruce and Helen updates on the minuscule breakthroughs he had made in the hopes that they would be able to accomplish more than he did. The spider that bit Peter had been exposed to a off brand super soldier serum like what had be given to Cap but his DNA had changed so fundamentally that looking at the few notes he had on that formula were useless. It had made formulating any medications for the kid beyond difficult.
The door to Peter’s room was standing open so Tony didn’t bother knocking before slipping in casually, pointedly ignoring the collection bag attached to the right side of Peter’s bed, and dropping the safety rail on the left side. “Budge over, these chairs are doing nothing for my back.” Peter just looked at him incredulously for a minute before gesturing slowly at all of him. Tony snickered at him and perched on the edge of the bed, draping his arm over Peter’s shoulders. “It was meant to be a joke kiddo.”
“Not funny,” Peter mumbled, but did his best to tuck in closer to Tony’s side with his limited mobility. Tony opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by Helen walking into the room with Dr. Summers, whom Tony had only met on a few occasions. The Avenger’s were more prone to needing the critical care that Helen could perform or a orthopedic specialist – general surgery didn’t get a lot of action with the quick healers on the team.
“You must be Peter,” The man said jovially, reaching out to shake Peter’s hand with a bright and professional smile on his face. “I’m Dr. Collin Summers. It’s great to meet you but I do wish it could have been under better circumstances.”
“Same,” Peter said, returning the handshake and darting his eyes back and forth between Dr. Cho and Dr. Summers.
“Well we have everything all set up down in the surgical suite so I was just going to talk through the procedure with you and Mr. Stark and then we can head down, sound good?” Dr. Summers said, pulling over a stool and chivalrously giving Helen the padded visitors chair to which she responded with an appreciative smile as she sat down.
“I mean, no, it doesn’t really sound all that great to be honest but it’s better than the alternative right?”
“You’d be right about that,” Dr. Summers said with a sardonic grin. “Overall, the procedure is pretty basic. I’ll make about a six inch incision low on you abdomen and remove your appendix first. That should take about fifteen minutes at most, it’s a relatively minor procedure. After that I’ll flush out your abdomen with a few liters of warm saline and, depending on how your peritoneum looks, maybe do a light antibiotic infusion. You’ll get a few stitches and hang out with us for the next 48 hours or so and then be on your way.”
“And I won’t be able to see what you’re doing?” Peter asked nervously, twisting his fingers into the blanket covering his legs. “Or feel?”
“You won’t see or feel anything, Peter, I promise,” Dr. Cho told him gently. “Before we head down I’m going to increase the dosage on your pain medication drip. It should relax you and make you pretty drowsy. I also had the nurses prepare some holo screens and noise cancelling headphones for you and Tony so that you can’t hear anything either if you want. I’m not saying it will be the most pleasant hour or so of your life but it shouldn’t be uncomfortable or painful.”
“Okay,” Peter said quietly before taking a deep, steadying breath. “Can we go ahead and get it over with?”
“Of course,” Dr. Summers said, standing up from the stool. “I’m going to go scrub up. Mr. Stark before we get to the suite you’ll need to change into some scrubs. One of the nurses can get you a pair and show you where all the PPE is.” Tony nodded as he stood and adjusted the safety rail on the bed.
Dr. Cho fiddled with the pump attached to the pain medication drip and Tony watched as Peter’s eyes noticeably drooped. “Whoa,” he said, pupils blown.
Tony snorted. “Enjoy your high bambino. You know how much some people pay for that?”
Cho rolled her eyes as she unlocked the wheels and helped the nursing team that Dr. Summers sent in prepare Peter, and the machines and monitors around him, for transport. One of them came to stand next to Tony. “I’m Tamra,” she said brightly, “if you’ll follow me, Mr. Stark, I can get you some scrubs and help you with the PPE.”
“You good, Pete?” Tony asked.
Peter rolled his head over to gaze drunkenly up at Tony. “Drugs are good,” he slurred, a doped up smile lifting the corners of his lips.
“I won’t tell your D.A.R.E officer,” Tony told him conspiratorially causing Peter to burst out into intoxicated sounding cackles.
It didn’t take Tony very long to change into the navy scrubs left out for him in the locker room. Natalie handed him a disposable scrub mask and cap to put on followed by a pair of awful paper booties that he crinkled his nose at when he slipped them on over the designer Louboutins high tops he still had on from yesterday. After a quick, but thorough, hand wash later, he was admitted into the surgical suite and directed over to a raised chair by Peter’s head.
The kid’s eyes were closed and someone had placed a nasal cannula on him to provide supplemental oxygen throughout the procedure. There was a large blue paper screen placed up just below his shoulders blocking the rest of his body and they had stretched out his arms to either side to keep them out of the surgical field. Tony gently ran his hands through Peter’s hair, causing his eyes to flutter open halfway.
“Hey buddy. You okay?” Tony asked, placing his free hand on Peter’s cheek to keep him from adjusting his head in either direction and looking around the suite. Peter swallowed thickly but nodded. “I’m going to put on your headphones okay? I want you to close your eyes and try to sleep. I’ll be right here and, if you need anything, let me know. It’s going to be fine.”
“Okay,” Peter said hoarsely, his anxiety breaking through the meds. His pupils were still blown and Tony could see his lids fluttering every couple of seconds in exhaustion. He carefully slipped on Peter’s headphones and then continued scrubbing his fingers lightly though his unruly curls. A few deep breaths later, the kid was out.
“Is he sleeping,” Helen asked softly as she slipped her sterile gloves on and clasped her hands together as she moved to the assisting side of the table, joining Dr. Summers in organizing the sterile supplies on the trays. Tony appreciated the gesture even though her talking was unlikely to wake Peter in the loud surgery theatre and with his special noise blocking headphones (patent pending).
“Believe or not, yes,” Tony said in amazement. He had been working himself up too much all day for it to be this easy. “Better get to it before he wakes up.” He joked semi-seriously.
“Scalpel,” Dr. Summers said from his side of the curtain.
Tony zoned out after that, focused solely on Peter’s face. He lost track of time until he head Helen say softly, “Closing” and lightly shook himself into awareness. Peter’s features were still slack and relaxed with sleep and Tony breathed out a sign of relief, tension melting out of his body. The kid deserved a win for once and, even though this whole debacle was a result of a shitty situation, at least he didn’t have to suffer through the surgery awake and aware.
“Never again,” Tony vowed to himself. He would work on sedation for the kid until he had it perfect, with or without sleeping or eating. If he could also lock Helen and Bruce in with him he estimated that he could have it done within the week. They were geniuses after all.
Peter was deep enough asleep that Dr.’s Cho and Summers were able to bully Tony away from his side while the nursing team cleaned him up and situated him into a fresh gown and prepared him for transport.
“You were there so, obviously, you know this but he did great Mr. Stark,” Dr. Summers said, removing the mask and cap from his head. “Perfect vitals the entire time and a textbook appendectomy. His peritoneum looked pretty inflamed but not enough for me to really worry about an internal antibiotic infusion after the saline flush. I think keeping him on the IV antibiotics and fluids for the next 24 hours should fix him up considering his healing factor.”
“We can repeat his bloodwork tomorrow afternoon and, hopefully, discontinue the injectables and switch over to orals. The only thing that we might have to hold back on is his pain relief but we will see how he feels tomorrow. The nursing team has already stopped the epidural drip and pulled that catheter so he should regain feeling in the next few hours. We can starting weaning down the pain relief once we get him settled.”
“Thank you both,” Tony said sincerely, shaking both of their hands. “Now I’m only asking this because it’ll be the first question out of the kid’s mouth, but how long is he under observation? And how long for bed rest? I’m pretty content to strap him to the bed for the next ten years at this point but I’m sure he will want to be up and about as soon as possible.”
Dr. Cho laughed and started steering him out of the surgical suite and into the hall, effectively clearing the way for the nursing team and preventing him from hovering as they prepared Peter to move back to his room. “As soon as the epidural wears off and we are able to wean down the pain meds he can be mobile with the assistance of a nurse and only to move from the bed to the recliner or to the bathroom. By tomorrow morning we will probably have him up and making laps with supervision. Provided his recovery goes well, I may be able to discharge him tomorrow night or the following morning but I will want him resting for at least a week until his post-op recheck.”
Tony blew out a sigh. “Probably will have to tie him to the bed then.”
Both doctors laughed unsympathetically at his future misery. “Why don’t you call and give May and update?” Helen suggested. “It will be another couple minutes before the team is ready to move him and it will take some time after that to get everything situated,” Helen gave him a critical once over. “In fact, why don’t you go upstairs and update May and his friends? And, Tony, when was the last time you ate?”
“Yeah alright, message received,” he grumbled. “Will you stay with him? I don’t want him to wake up alone.”
“Of course,” Dr. Cho said. “He’s my favorite and most well behaved patient.”
“Yeah yeah,” Tony snarked back, already hitting May’s contact on his phone to call and give her an update. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes.” Dr. Cho rolled her eyes but otherwise did not dignify that with a response.
“Tony?” May’s voice cracked over the phone, clearly stressed. “How did the surgery go? Is he awake? Can I talk to him?”
Tony smiled indulgently into the phone. “He did so great May,” Tony felt his voice crack a bit, the last bit of tension leaving his body, and cleared his throat. “Slept right through the whole thing. Cho is getting him settled now but he should be discharged tomorrow.”
“Oh thank god,” she breathed through the phone and Tony heard a light thunk like she had dropped her head back against the wall. “Fuck, Tony,” she murmured.
“I know,” he said in commiseration. “If other news I’m making a spider-kid proof room. You seen that movie with the kid locked in the bubble? Same energy.”
May let out a hysterical sounding giggle. “Oh yes, completely unrelated I’m sure,” she let out a soft sigh. “So he’s going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” Tony said “he’s going to be just fine. I might not be though. Jeez, how the hell am I supposed to keep him resting for the next week.”
“I feel no envy for you right now,” May cackled at him, an inelegant snort breaking through.
“May,” he whined.
“Nope,” she said, taking no quarters, “you wanted to co-parent, this is what you get when you raise a teenager.”
Tony rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’m going to go update the scoobygang. I’ll have Pete call you in a few hours when he’s up?” After May had given him the affirmative and they hand exchanged goodbyes, Tony removed the Bluetooth from his ear and rested his head against the back of the elevator, still unmoving since he hadn’t given the order to move yet, and closed his eyes for a second, feeling the last of the tension leave his shoulders. “The kids still in the penthouse FRI?”
“Yes Boss. Is that your destination?”
“Please,” Tony replied and the elevator began moving upward smoothly.
Peter initially woke in fits and starts. He vaguely recalled being moved back onto the MedBay bed and being rolled down the hall. It felt like just a blink of his eyes and Dr. Cho was standing over him, smiling warmly and tucking a blanket further up his chest. Then she was replaced with Tony, sitting in the darkened room beside him and working on something on his StarkPad; he didn’t even notice Peter’s eyes were opened before Peter fell back asleep.
It wasn’t until the muted glow of the Manhattan skyline shone through the expansive windows in his room that Peter truly felt aware.
The room around him was still mostly dark, the only lights coming from the silent monitors and the dimmed over head lights. The sound of snoring caused him to look to the left and he let at a soft snort: Tony had fallen asleep on the couch, AR glasses askew and tablet resting on his chest.
“Took forever to get him to sleep,” Harley’s faux-irritated voice said from the other side of him and Peter adjusted to look at him. “I nearly snuck sleeping pills into his coffee.”
“Wouldn’t they cancel each other out?” Peter asked, voice slightly hoarse and cracking from sleep.
“Not since I switched his regular coffee for decaf,” Harley told him with a sinister grin that Peter returned.
“Pure, unadulterated evil.”
“I try,” Harley told him with an exaggerated bow. “How are you feeling?”
Peter took a moment to take stock. “Hungry,” he reported. “And a little light-headed? But I’m not sure if that’s from the drugs or not eating.”
“My guess is not eating since you haven’t had like any of you required ten daily feedings,” Harley said, reaching over the bed rail to press the call button. “They said that you could have protein broth or something when you woke up.”
“Blek,” Peter groaned, sticking out his tongue. “That stuff is seriously nasty. You would think that since Tony and Dr. Banner were able to make such delicious meal bars they would be able to improve the taste of that garbage.”
“I’m pretty sure they can but Tony won’t let them because he’s using it as a punishment.”
“That would be diabolical,” Peter whispered, a horrified look on his face that sent Harley into choked laughter, hand pressed over his mouth to keep quiet so as to not wake their sleeping mentor. One of the nursing staff poked her head into the open room and gave both boys a smile when they put their fingers hurriedly over their lips in the gesture for silence and pointed at Tony.
“I’m Tamra,” she introduced herself quietly as she surveyed Peter’s monitors. “It’s good to see you awake Peter, how are you feeling? Any pain?”
“A little but its pretty manageable,” Peter answered honestly before blushing and gripping his stomach as it grumbled. Harley snorted beside him.
“Hungry I take it,” Tamra said knowingly, unlocking her tablet and tapping something on it. “I’ll put in an order for some protein broth, if you can keep that down and don’t feel nauseous then we can move up to smoothies.”
“Yes please,” Peter told her, blush still present on his face. Tamra bustled out of the room quickly after that, promising to be back shortly with the food.
“How long am I stuck here?” Peter asked Harley as she left the room, settling back into his pillows and pushing down a yawn.
“At least until tomorrow night but then they want you on bed rest for a week,” Harley said, kicking back and resting his feet on the end of Peter’s bed and ignoring his friend’s groan of defeat.
“What am I supposed to do for a whole week?” Peter complained, adjusting himself in bed with a slight wince.
“Well Tony panic bought the new Xbox and PlayStation and a ton of games so I feel like you won’t get too bored,” Harley commented, swiping through his phone and ignoring Peter’s eye roll.
“Of course he fucking did,” he muttered darkly. He really hated when Tony spent a bunch of money on his. “What time is it? Did Ned and MJ already leave?”
“It’s ten-thirteen. Tony sent them home when it became clear around seven that you planned to sleep for the rest of the day. They’ll be back in the morning, Ned said he’s bringing the new Millennium Falcon lego kit. It should keep us busy for a few hours.”
“Do you have my phone? I told May I would call her after and it’s only just after seven on the west coast.” Harley nodded and tossed Peter his phone.
“If you eat first you could just FaceTime her after,” Tony said in a low grumble from his place on the couch, grunting as he sat up and popped his spine. “How you feeling kiddo?” He asked, standing up and moving over to the bed to survey Peter.
“Better. Hungry,” Peter told him, submitting to Tony’s visual pat down. “Sorry for waking you.”
“It’s not a problem,” Tony said. “I told Tennessee over there to wake me up anyway when you were coherent.”
“Oops,” Harley said deadpan. “However could I have forgotten.”
“Brat.”
“Ok boomer,” Harley responded, rousing a strangled laugh from Peter, a warm and relaxed feeling filling him as the two continued to squabble. He can’t really say that his day was particularly pleasant but there was really nowhere else he would rather be.