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“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the nurse?” Ned asked, for the tenth time that period alone.
Turning to look at his best friend, Peter sighed. “I’m fine, Ned. I’ve got…,” he paused as another wave of stabbing pain washed over him. “You know….,” he waved his hand over his body, in an attempt to tell Ned he had healing powers.
He was too afraid to talk too much, every time he opened his mouth there was a good chance he was going to puke. He’d spent a lot of time lately in front of the toilet, throwing until he couldn’t anymore. He was able to suffer through school yesterday, with only light pain, but today was very different. It felt like someone was stabbing him in the stomach over and over and over again.
Logically he knew he should tell someone, like May or Mr. Stark but he didn’t want to go running to his Aunt and/or Mr. Stark about a stomach ache. And, he didn’t even get injured while patrolling either, so it really wasn’t a Spider-man thing, it was a Peter Parker thing. And Peter could handle Peter Parker related things on his own.
Especially when he had a healing ability.
He was just eating really weird lately and his stomach just didn’t like his food choices. This morning he’d eaten 4 breakfast sandwiches from the gas station, they were only $1 which is probably why his stomach was rejecting them so violently.
“Yeah but this has been happening for weeks, my dude. I don’t think your healing is doing its job,” Ned pressed, leaning over the empty aisle, nearly out of his seat. “Please tell May, at least.”
“No,” Peter said, putting his arm around his stomach, in an attempt to soothe himself. He felt like puking again, he could feel the burning hot bile creeping up his esophagus. “She’ll make me go to the hospital and I can’t go there, not with you know.”
“Or she’ll make you talk to Mr. Stark,” Ned countered, completely correct but Peter wasn’t going to tell him that.
“I’m not telling Tony Stark I have a tummy ache.”
Ned rolled his eyes, pulling away from the aisle, back to his seat. “You know, for a genius, you can be really, really stupid sometimes. Stubbornly stupid.”
“Thanks,” Peter answered, then lowered his head onto his chest, his cheek against the cool surface. Mr. Wiley was giving his normal lecture, completely unaware of Peter’s distress, his monotone voice was almost a relief to Peter, something he could focus on instead of the overwhelming pain.
It usually passed after an hour or so.
-
By the time Peter got to lunch, his stomach was hell bent on making his life miserable. Ned put down the tray he’d gotten Peter before sitting down across from him.
“Are you going to try and eat?” Ned asked, having brought Peter the only thing the school had that looked good for a sick person, a bowl of loaded potato soup and as many crackers as he could take without being glared at. “If not the soup, at least have some crackers.”
Peter shook his head, the bile was getting closer and closer up his throat. He managed to avoid puking the last two periods by force of will alone. Now, with the smell of food and the food in front of him, his willpower was losing out.
“Okay, you’ve got two choices. Either you try and eat since you need to or you go to the nurse right now and have them call Mr. Stark. No excuses, no putting it off. I know how you get when you don’t eat, Peter,” Ned said, very sternly, but Peter was too busy swallowing down bile to even process what he was requesting.
“Ergh,” he responded, but nodded his head. Aside from the stomach pains, he was really hungry and his head was starting to hurt. Having a super metabolism, demanded a lot of nutrition and food throughout the day, especially now since Peter was throwing up most of what he ate.
“Crackers,” he mumbled, reaching for the Saltines and opening the package.
Ned looked disappointed, but relieved, watching Peter like a hawk as he shoved a handful of crackers into his mouth. They tasted wonderful, he realized just how hungry he’d become, by now he’d usually had a nice mid morning snack. Once the pile of crackers was devoured, he attempted the soup.
Midtown was a well funded school and the cafeteria food wasn’t terrible, and the soup tasted like heaven. He might have moaned a few times while eating it.
“Um,” Ned started, with a look of horror on his face. “Do you need a minute with your soup, dude?”
Peter looked up, he had leaned down so he was hovering over the soup, spoon in hand. He realized, then, he probably looked a bit crazy. “Sorry,” he said, standing up straighter and trying to look less like a maniac. “You were right, I was starving. I had breakfast but I think that’s what my stomach is mad about so I skipped my usual mid morning snacks. I didn’t want to risk throwing up at school again. You know it’s my least favorite activity.”
Ned eyed him, still looking relatively unhappy. “I still think you should tell May and Mr. Stark. It isn’t going away, this might be a serious problem. Just because you start feeling better after a while means nothing.”
“Psh,” Peter said, putting another large spoonful in his mouth and swallowing. “It’s just a stomach bug, you know? I eat a lot of junk, so maybe it’s just my body’s way of telling me to stop eating cheap gas station food, you know?”
Ned sighed but didn’t push the issue anymore. “I’ve got an I told you so waiting for you in the wings for when this blows up in your face.”
Peter nodded and reached his fork over to Ned’s plate, stabbing into a chicken finger. “Can I have this?”
Ned nodded. “Yeah, I thought you might want more food, all yours.”
“You’re the best,” Peter said, mouth full of delicious chicken. “Guy in the chair best friends forever.”
He was too busy shoving more chicken into his mouth to hear Ned’s reply.
-
Peter took two steps into his gym class and deeply, deeply regretted eating any food at all. For the first class after lunch, he was mildly okay. His stomach hurt a little, but his headache cleared up and he felt kinda normal. Ned wasn’t in that class with him, but they did have next period Gym together and Peter was excited to show Ned just how better he was. He even had his own I told you so, lined up for use.
Until he walked into gym class and felt like someone stabbed him repeatedly in the lower gut.
“Erggh,” he moaned, putting an arm around his stomach protectively. He spotted Ned sitting on the bleachers with MJ. When the two of them saw him, they came rushing over.
“You’re an idiot,” MJ said sternly, but put an arm around Peter’s shoulder, as Ned went to the other side. “We’re taking you to the nurse.”
There was zero room for question, but Peter shook his head. “Gonna vomit,” he said, already tasting bile in his throat. He gagged a little and his friends basically carried him into the boy’s locker room. He was relieved they understood wasn’t all that keen on throwing up in public.
“Hey, you can’t be in-” Flash started, the second they entered the room, but Peter’s willpower let out at that exact moment and he vomited on the floor. If it wasn’t for Ned and MJ he would have pitched forward and landed in said vomit, but they held him up. “JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK PENIS?” Flash shouted, making Peter wince. “DID YOU JUST THROW UP?”
Throwing up was on the top of Peter’s most hated list. Even as a kid, it was just terrible. He’d always feel so weak and dizzy afterward, never knowing when the vomit would end. And now, with his enhanced sense, the taste and smell were the absolute worst. Most of what he threw up was the soup and chicken, the taste a million times grosser as it came back up. He barely lasted another minute before leaning forward and throwing up again, watching as it splashed on the floor and his friend's shoes.
The only good thing was he managed to vomit on Flash’s shoes and the shirt he had sitting on the bench. If he could aim, he would have tried to get even more of it on him.
“Get Coach Wilson,” MJ hissed at him, heaving Peter upright, preventing him from falling forwards again. Flash took one look at them, sneered but ran straight past. Peter’s stomach gurgled again, bile coming back up but this time he swallowed, desperate not to throw up again.
It burned as it retreated down his throat, making him gag just a little, but nothing came spilling out again. He felt weak, leaning completely on MJ and Ned, they were pretty much the only thing supporting him.
“Ugggh,” he moaned. “I’m dying and everything hurts.”
“Oh hush, you’re not dying. Maybe if you would have listened to either of us weeks ago, we wouldn’t be here. But not, you had to keep insisting you were fine,” MJ lectured, but she didn’t look that angry, she looked more concerned.
“Let’s take him into the shower, if he keeps puking it might be better in there,” she said to Ned, who nodded in agreement.
Carrying Peter into the shower area, he waited a whole 2 minutes before vomiting again, right by the shower drain they’d taken him to.
“Thanks,” he hiccuped, as his friends lowered him to the ground. The tile was cool against his hands, he felt like laying down too, his head swarming. “I still hate everything but,” he burped with an unpleasant gross taste. “But I love you two so much.”
“You’re still an idiot,” MJ said fondly.
Unable and unwilling to keep himself upright, Peter allowed himself to lay on the no doubt, very, very gross bathroom floor. Curling up into the fetal position, he sighed when MJ’s hand touched his neck, moving down to rub his back. Ned sat cross legged beside him, he patted his knee and Peter sat up long enough to put his head on Ned’s lap before returning to his fetal position.
Ned started talking to him, Peter really couldn’t tell what he was saying but it was enough to ease the pain and need to throw up a little.
He lost track of time for a few minutes because suddenly MJ was pressing a bottle of water to his lips. He didn’t even realize she’d left, but he was still very grateful, letting her tip the bottle, the cold liquid feeling good on his sore throat.
“Don’t drink too fast,” she said softly, but let Peter drink the whole bottle in, taking a few second breaks between each gulp. It helped his stomach a little, the liquid seemed to settle without triggering any more vomit.
A commotion outside the shower started, Ned prodded his shoulder, making Peter sit up.
“Switch,” he said, getting to his feet. He lightly directed Peter towards MJ, who sat down beside him, allowing him to put his head on her lap like he’d been doing with Ned. If he wasn’t feeling so gross and sick, he’d be mildly embarrassed by the whole thing.
“Thanks,” he mumbled to her, closing his eyes. MJ’s hand moved to the back of his neck, staying there for a second before rubbing down over his shoulder and up and down his arm. It was super nice of her.
“Yeah well, you’ve done much more for me and the city. Might as well return the favor. You’re still an idiot by the way.”
“Hmmmhmm,” Peter agreed, just as another ground of sharp stabbing pain washed over him, suddenly coming back much worse than they had been. He hated this the most, he wished they’d just hurt all the time, instead of in waves. They came out of nowhere most of the time, leaving him unable to brace or prepare for it.
“You’re hot,” MJ said, moving the hand that was on his arm to his forehead.
“You’re pretty hot too,” Peter responded, smirking at her.
“I meant you’re burning up, I think you have a fever.”
She was probably right, he was feeling both really warm and really cold at the same time. A shiver ran through him as another wave of stabbing pain came and went. This was far worse than when he got stabbed, that pain was intense but eventually faded away into nothingness. This was constantly the same level of sharp and intense, never wavering even after he threw up.
“And you’re looking… yellowish,” MJ said, sounding worried. Another round of nausea passed him, he gagged before getting up on his knees and throwing up neon yellow liquid that splattered all over the floor.
“Ugghhh,” Peter moaned once he finished, the gross taste and smell of bile a little too overwhelming. He tipped over, barely able to keep control of his body anymore. He fell into MJ’s lap, who thankfully didn’t seem to mind. “Would rather be stabbed right now, instead of this.”
Snorting, MJ moved some of his hair out of his eyes, when the commotion outside became louder and then he heard a familiar voice. “Where is he?”
“Oh shit,” Peter remembered, realizing rather quickly he was going to be in a lot of trouble for not telling Mr. Stark about this anytime sooner. Of course, not now, hopefully now Mr. Stark had come to take him to the medbay to stop the endless pain and puking, but afterward, he knew the conversation wouldn’t be pleasant.
Watching Mr. Stark walking into the shower of a men’s locker room was pretty amusing. He stuck out like a sore thumb, Peter tried to smile and look less pathetic, but another wave of nausea overtook him and he had just enough sense to move his head off MJ’s lap to throw up on the floor again.
“Oh kid,” Mr. Stark said after he’d finished, as Peter went back to curling a little inwards on himself. Mr. Stark squatted down, reaching out to touch Peter's forehead. “You’re burning up. Ned said he’s been throwing up all day?”
“Yeah, he’s been having stomach pains and throwing up for a few weeks now. Usually, after he eats something,” MJ supplied.
“Traitor,” Peter mumbled, trying to glare at her, but he really didn’t like lifting his head too much. Closing his eyes, the tile which his head laid on now, was cool and Mr. Stark’s hand on his face made him feel better too.
“Peter,” Mr. Stark said in the tone Peter knew to fear. “We’ll talk about this later, but for now, come on kiddo. I’m bringing you to the medbay, I think I have an idea as to what’s going on. Do you think you can help me get him up?”
A minute later, Mr. Stark and MJ had successfully lifted him and got him standing, albeit heavily relying on Mr. Stark. “You’re going to be riding in the car with Happy and me home, so try not to throw up in his car. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Peter nodded but very suddenly lost his struggle with not throwing up again, barely able to warn either of them before he was vomiting another round of bright neon liquid all over the gym floor and Mr. Stark’s shoes.
“Sorry,” he moaned. “Tryin’ not to do it again.”
He was glad Mr. Stark didn’t hold him to it, because he puked two more times in the car.
-
Once he was at the Tower, things went very quickly. He was in the medbay, getting several scans of his abdomen by a small handheld device. Dr. Cho was there, she gave him a small pill to help with nausea which to Peter’s happiness, seemed to help a bit. The pain was slowly going away, the stabbing dissipating until nothing was bothering him.
May showed up shortly after that, sitting next to Peter, offering him ice chips often. He felt kinda stupid, since everything was okay now, to make them all worry so much. Especially since Dr. Cho usually didn’t handle these types of things and it was only due to Peter’s enhancements as to why she was called in.
Another hour later, Mr. Stark and Dr. Cho came back into the room, both with serious looks on their faces. They both pulled up stools, sitting down across from May.
“We have some results,” Dr. Cho started. “Peter, based on your symptoms and CT scans, your gallbladder has ruptured. It’s not life threatening, we just need to go in and remove it. It's a very common surgery and will be no problem at all. We can do it today, right here in the medbay.”
“Why didn’t my healing fix it?” Peter asked at the same time May asked. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were having pain?”
“Uh,” Peter answered, and given the look on Mr. Stark’s face, it seemed he wanted an answer too. “It wasn’t that bad? I mean, I was throwing up after eating but I thought I was just eating too much junk food.”
“And the stabbing pain? Ned said you were having a lot of pain,” Mr. Stark added, very unhelpfully.
“Um, dunno? I mean, honestly, it wasn’t that bad and it went away after I threw up. Today was just… different, more intense.”
The three adults in the room, all had the same face, the one that made Peter knew he was in a lot of trouble and very stupid.
“Peter,” May said with a sigh. “You have to tell someone if you’re not feeling well and no,” she said, putting her finger up when Peter went to speak again. “You can’t always rely on your healing, period.”
“And in this case, your healing is working against you. It’s clear your gallbladder erupted at some point, but your healing was able to repair the damage. However, you still have gallstones, which your healing is not taking care of since they are a natural reaction to your food intact. Once the gallstones are too much, your gallbladder erupts and your healing fixes it,” Dr. Cho explained. “How long have you been experiencing symptoms?”
There was a moment where Peter very much wanted to lie but decided against it. “Um, like a few months ago I started having a weird stomach pain but uh, I’d been eating a lot of junk so I thought it was just that. But um, I started puking, and then it’d get better and start over again. Like, right now the pain has gone, I feel fine.”
“That’s because your healing has taken care of your erupted gallbladder this afternoon. Peter, you have to tell people when you are experiencing symptoms like this. Your healing is good, yes, but we have no idea how your body reacts to things right now. What you think might be nothing, might be a big problem.”
“Yes,” Mr. Stark said, sternly. “I don’t want to have you do a health check every week, Pete. You’re old enough to know when to speak up.”
“Sorry,” Peter said, looking at each of them. “I really thought it was okay.”
May sighed. “He’s always been like this. Spent all of the 4th grade having daily headaches before he casually mentioned it to Ben and me. It turned out he needed glasses. Same thing with gym class and asthma.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Peter said in a small voice, feeling very much like a child. All three adults once again looked at him, matching faces of concern and maybe a little pity.
“You are never a bother, baby,” May said softly. She looked over at Dr. Cho. “When do we need to do the surgery?”
“As soon as possible, it would be the best, tomorrow if we can. We have everything we need here and it can be outpatient, Peter can go back home and even back to school the day after. I would advise him to stay away from web swinging until the weekend’s over, just to be safe.”
Peter frowned, but Mr. Stark jumped in before he could say anything. “Excellent, May, that's good with you?”
“Sure,” she answered.
“And,” Dr. Cho continued. “We’ll have to review your diet, Peter. Even after your gallbladder is gone, you can still have some problems with digestion. You need to eat more, but that doesn’t mean you need to eat high fat or cholesterol. We have a dietician on hand, she worked with Captain Rogers when he was here.”
“No diets, right?” Peter asked, scrunching up his face.
“No diets, just a better routine to keep you safe and healthy,” Dr. Cho said, smiling. “I’ll have you stay in the medbay for the night, you have to fast before surgery but with your metabolism, we’re going to put you on a nutrient IV. Anyone have any questions?”
When no one did, she bid them all farewell, before leaving the room.
Despite it only being early evening, Peter let out a night so fake but kinda exaggerated yawn, hoping to avoid any discussion about his health. Both May and Mr. Stark gave him the same look again and really, Peter was starting to find this whole thing a little too much.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know I messed up and I promise, I won’t do it again. I’ve learned my lesson, the stomach pain was enough to make me learn it very, very well.”
May pressed her lips together, in the straight line of I don’t believe a word you’re saying but I’m going to humor you. “Hmmhmm,” she added. “I hope this is an important lesson for you.”
“You scared the shit out of me kiddo,” Mr. Stark added, uncrossing his arms and looking far less annoyed now. “Ned calls me saying you’re laying on the floor throwing up and crying in pain.”
“There were no tears,” Peter defended. “I was, uh, fine. I hate throwing up, so I was a little upset about that.”
“Pete, you were laying in the fetal position in the shower of a locker room. Give it up kiddo, you were in pain.”
Opening and closing his mouth, Peter gave in. “Yeah, it hurt really bad. Like, worse than the time I actually got stabbed.”
Both adults blanched at this. “When did you get stabbed?” May questioned, just as Peter remembered he never told either of them that particular story. She turned to Mr. Stark. “Did you know he got stabbed?”
“No,” Mr. Stark answered, crossing his arms again. “And I’d like to know why I wasn’t told about being stabbed.”
“Uhh,” Peter tried but failed to come up with a good lie. “Um, it wasn’t bad? I mean, just a light stabbing. Paper cut, at the most and I healed up real quick, didn’t even get a neat scar out of it.” Peter yawned again, a loud aggressive, and very fake yawn that he knew fooled no one but he was already committed to the act. “Anyway, I’m really exhausted, throwing up just you know, takes it out of me. And I should uh, rest up for surgery.”
“Don’t think you’re getting out of his convo later, kid,” Mr. Stark said sternly but sighed when Peter closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.