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Not including rupturing his spleen, probably Peter’s least favorite injury that he had ever received was a concussion. He always felt delirious and confused for days after, like someone had taken his brain out to play with it. He wasn’t as quick-witted with his Spidey quips, his homework and tests always had mistakes he would never usually make and his decathlon teammates always looked at him like he grew a second head when he would hit the buzzer and stare blankly at MJ, the answer slipping right through his grasp.
So, naturally, he got more concussions than any other injury much to his chagrin.
After he got his fourth in as many months and spaced out on Tony in the lab, unresponsive to his verbal cues and only reacting when his mentor gave him a gentle shake, Tony had taken him to Bruce where he had gotten a firm lecture on hiding possible traumatic brain injuries, and EEG and an MRI.
Bruce had set him up with a drug that was formulated to be his equivalent of Excedrin and orders to take the rest of the week off school to rest, no Spider-Manning allowed, until they could have the MRI reviewed. He set up a tentative time for the following week for a meet up and had sent Peter and Tony on their way.
May had been, unsurprisingly and appropriately (per Mr. Stark anyway), pissed but had saved the majority of her lecture since Peter clearly wasn’t following half of what came out of her mouth and had just let out a put upon sigh and sent him to bed.
The meeting with Bruce the following week (with May and Mr. Stark bracketing him on either side in either support or to prevent his escape) had been less of a professional conversation and more of a stern intervention on taking care of himself.
“Your MRI results came back showing multiple lesions on various lobes of your brain, do you know what that means Peter?” Bruce had asked very seriously and May had reached out to grip Peter’s hand.
“Not really,” Peter had responded sullenly. Did no one get that he had a healing factor?
“It means that you bruised your brain in multiple places. Multiple injuries like this in a row can cause Traumatic Brain Injury which you may not be able to recover fully from. TBI symptoms can last for your entire life and can range from minor things like brain fog and slurring your words but can also cause you to go into a coma. Do you understand Peter?” Bruce had explained, his question as sharp as any knife and his eyes steely as he made firm contact with Peter’s.
Peter ducked, cowed. “But I heal! I can get over a broken bone in a week.”
“Two weeks,” Mr. Stark muttered under his breath from Peter’s left and Peter chose to ignore him.
“Unlike with lacerations or broken bones, brain injuries tend to compound on themselves which is why doctors put athletes on concussion protocols if they think they’ve been hit in the head to hard. You may be able to heal completely from a single concussion if given enough time but if you keep getting them and don’t allow each one to heal in between…” Bruce trailed off with a significant look and Peter sighed, beaten.
Point made.
After that meeting, Tony and May had conspired to not give Peter a single second to get himself in any ‘trouble’ for the next two weeks. May had restricted his screen time and had made him take extra breaks when doing his homework to rest and Tony had called in a couple favors from DareDevil and Jessica Jones to patrol through Queens while he took a break. By the end of the two weeks Peter was chomping at the bit to be let loose.
Before setting him free again, Tony had done a full unit upgrade and added a protocol for Karen to alert both him and May to any possible head injuries and had fortified the mask with some thin but study padding around the crown to help cushion Peter better if he were to fall.
And things had gone pretty well after. Peter had taken extra care to not hit his head or get hit in the head and, on the seldom occasion he did, he submitted himself to Bruce and Tony’s tender mercies and allowed his brain to be evaluated for any injuries.
“It’s your most valuable asset,” Mr. Stark had told him seriously in the midst of one of these neuro exams. “You don’t want to lose it.”
Peter was so careful now. Like ridiculously careful.
Which is why he was so surprised to find himself on the floor of his shower, curtain rod resting in the center of his forehead and staring at the pristine tiled ceiling above him.
“Well fuck,” Peter said, the back of his skull and forehead throbbing in discordant pulses and lukewarm water still raining down on his face. How did he even slip he thought woozily, reaching up with one arm to cut the water off and then continuing to lie still on the floor. He was at the compound, the shower curtain was reinforced – how did he manage to pull it down.
Peter weighed his options for a moment – he had gotten knocked into a wall a few days ago by the Rhino and Bruce had diagnosed his with a minor concussion (thanks reinforced Iron Spider suit!) and he was spending his spring break with Tony to fully recover. He would have to tell both of them, he decided and grabbed the edge of the tub to sit up. His skull only made it a few inches off the floor before everything began to tilt and he lowered himself back down.
With a put upon sigh he called out, “FRIDAY?”
“Yes Peter?”
“Can you tell Mr. Stark I need some help?”
“Of course. One moment.”
Good thing when it came to Tony Peter pretty much had no dignity left or this situation would be much more embarrassing than it already was. Also he was thankful for the dark shower curtain that was resting over him like a blanket.
A knock sounded at the door a moment later. “Peter?” Tony’s voice was muffled. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”
“Door’s unlocked,” Peter told him. The knob turned and Tony poked his head in a moment later, brows furrowing as he took in the scene in front of him and a cough/snort sound filling the air before he composed himself. Peter just pouted at him.
“Slipped? I thought you were sticky?” Tony teased lightly as he fully entered the bathroom and grabbed Peter’s towel from the heated towel rack, crouching next to the tub. “Your heads bleeding.” He stated bluntly, grabbing the hand towel as well to use as a pressure bandage. “Do you feel like you can sit up”
“Can you help me?” Peter asked, pretty done with the situation. Tony nodded and worked his arm under Peter’s shoulders and gently lifted him to a sitting position before pressing the hand towel to the back of his head. Peter closed his eyes and took some deep breaths to stop the room from spinning, knuckles white as he gripped the tub.
“Let’s get you up and in some dry clothes. FRIDAY, can you have Bruce come up?” FRIDAY gave her affirmative and Tony wrapped the towel around Peter’s waist before pulling the shower curtain away and physically lifting him out of the tub to sit on the closed toilet. Peter swayed slightly, dizzy with the change in location. “Sit right here for a second, okay?”
“‘Kay,” Peter said, vaguely watching as Tony went into his room. It felt like only a moment before he was back with a pair of joggers and an MIT sweatshirt. Peter gritted his teeth but allowed Tony to help him slip into the outfit, pulling his left arm through the sleeve just as Bruce entered the room.
“What happened?”
“Slipped in the shower,” Peter answered him, a blush heating up his face. Bruce, unfazed, just nodded and prodded Tony out of the way, gently taking Peter’s face between his hands to examine the knot already forming on his forehead before peeling the blood soaked towel away from the back of his head and giving a sympathetic wince.
“The cut will probably need a couple stitches but should heal well, how does you feel?”
“My headaches back. Everything feels a little foggy.” Peter answered honestly, body listing to the side to lean into Tony who started rubbing slow circles onto his back.
“Are you lightheaded at all?”
“A little?” Peter responded, he couldn’t really decide, everything just felt a little detached.
“Okay. Let’s get you down to MedBay and get you some pain relief and stitch you up. I want you to stay under observation tonight since you already had a concussion and you’re going to take a break for the next couple weeks deal” Bruce asked, taking Peter’s other side and helping to lift and support him. Peter wobbled unsteadily for a second, his legs threatening to crumple under him before Tony wrapped a warm arm around his waist.
“Deal,” Peter muttered, allowing himself to be carted off to MedBay. Well, at least no one could say he was irresponsible this time.