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Peter does not suggest sparring with The Avengers when it already feels like you got throttled by a Bison. Yes, that wording specifically describes what he’s currently feeling—nothing more, nothing less.
He also does not ever suggest showing The Avengers how much weight you can uphold, because they’ll stop going so easy on you in training. Peter’s not even pulling his punches today and he’s wielded three times. If you’ve seen his usual training sessions with them, that’s saying something, the only person’s butt that he isn’t able to kick is Natasha, and now it's all of them.
It would have been fine if he was fine to begin with, but, frankly, at the moment, he was not. He’s pretty sure he has the worst fever in the world, probably breaking the record for most time spent upright and coherent with a fever of 102.5.
Words can not physically explain the current ache and pain his bones are in. They’re nowhere near done with the training session, and Tony hasn’t given him a second glance. When he told him that he just was just having an off day, the man completely believed it, apparently. It was a bit baffling.
Peter somehow misses the small breaks he would get before he revealed that he can lift over ten tons. He also—words that he never thought would come out of his mouth—missed his mentor checking on how he was doing every ten seconds. Now it's every hour or so.
Now, he was sitting down in the corner of the training room, after getting crushed by Sam. He practically benched himself out of embarrassment when everyone was staring amongst themselves, utterly confused about how Peter had just been launched in the air only seven seconds into sparring with him.
He watched the rest of them go after that, all going in pairs they decided were fair with their skill sets and abilities.
It only dawned on him that he and Steve were paired up when they were the only two who hadn’t gone again, and he was completely dreading it. They really decided to test who was stronger on a day like this?
“You’re up, Spidey. Go easy on him, will you?” Tony came up behind him with an all too familiar grin, giving him a soft shove to the shoulder to usher him forward.
Peter smiled softly as he let himself get pushed upright, despite how he felt. “No promises, I’ll see just how bad I want that shield.” He laughed, tone layered with sarcasm. He walked up to Steve, who was lightly stretching in preparation.
In hopes of stalling for as long as he could, he started stretching as well. Checking his web shooters, and taking a sip of water that made him nauseous, Peter didn’t last very long in that department. Mostly because they caught onto his stalling, lightly teasing him about it.
He laughed it off, and then stood in position, waiting for Scott—who was the designated ‘ring girl’ as the man had worded it—to give them the go-ahead.
When he did, Peter was not prepared. Not at all.
Ever since he actually proved to the team how much weight he could take and carry, they haven’t given him a minute of peace during training. He’s pretty sure Steve came at him with everything he had, like he was genuinely an enemy. It was terrifying, truly.
He obviously knew that the man would never actually hurt him, of course. But it also wasn’t very—
A flash of red, white, and blue crossed his vision in a blur, and at the same moment, he heard an almost cartoon-like ‘clang’.
He didn’t feel it—it didn’t really hurt, but he knew that something was up when he suddenly couldn’t hear anything, like everything just went blank.
When it slightly processed, Peter realized that whatever just happened, was actually Captain America’s shield hitting him straight upside the head. Maybe the reason he didn’t feel it was because he died. Completely.
It wasn’t anything heroic, like, I don't know, maybe he sacrificed himself to save the planet and took his final breath in peace—maybe he jumped in front of a bullet and died looking at the loved one that he just saved—but, no. That wasn’t the case at all.
He was taking his final breaths in the middle of the gym mat that was probably covered with years worth of buildup of sweat, blood, and tears, his lungs racking in wheezy breaths, his nose clogged, the worst headache he’s ever had, and he just died on impact from Captain America’s shield. While sparring . He wasn’t in a real fight with him, he just apparently, happened to not be paying attention.
This was his genuine, worst fear. Dying in the absolute lamest way possible. He can't even tell Ned about it now, because he was dead!
Peter could entirely see the light right now, he’s pretty sure he’s ascending.
Oddly enough, the light in question, somehow, and some way, looked like Tony’s face. It was like a cloud in the shape of his face—maybe he was seeing memories in his final moments, that’s it.
Huh. Natasha—and Bruce. Right beside him. That’s not weird, just a memory—he was thinking of his loved ones as he died, that's all it was.
However, it is a little bit strange that he could hear Tony yelling something about how stupid and ignorant someone was. That wasn’t referring to him, right? No, no, probably not.
Maybe it is a little coincidental that he just heard the words ‘How did you hit him in the head with your shield? ’, followed by a long series of curses. It was starting to sound a little bit more like it was actually happening, rather than just a random memory he was experiencing.
When the pain in his head started to register, throbbing violently, Peter began to believe that he wasn’t dead.
He also began to believe that dying probably would have been better than this, at this rate, and he took everything he said before back. You know those meat tenderizers people use? Meat mallets? It feels like someone is striking his head with one. It was the most awful thing he has ever experienced, completely topping what he felt when he had the idea that he was dying just a minute ago.
The ‘light’ that he was previously looking at, turned out to be the migraine-inducing white lights on the ceiling of the training room.
Fortunately for him, they got blocked out by someone hovering over him. And as his vision began to unblur more, he could recognize it as Tony—and he could definitely recognize the concerned look on his face. It was like every single wrinkle and gray hair that he was ever going to get in his lifeline, formed in a millisecond over the matter.
He squinted, every light and movement making his brain hurt. Peter felt like he was a newborn baby all over again, minus the getting birthed part—and the naked part. Maybe that just wasn’t a good explanation overall. He doesn’t even remember his birth.
The multiple piles and jumbles of words that were pouring into his ears all at once, started to slow down. All of his senses began to function, making the all too familiar ache in his body also tangible.
“I told you to go easy on him, I didn’t mean immediately die , kid.” His mentor lightly teased, probably in an attempt to hide the worry that tainted his voice. It was a failed one, because everyone in the room could hear and recognize it.
Naturally, Peter whined and complained in response to the pain in his head. His hands scrambled at the floor, but couldn’t manage to get a good grip on it.
“Mhhnm—‘tark. Dying.” He murmured, words muffled and slurred.
“You’re not dying. Pretty sure you’ve just got a concussion of some sort.” Tony cupped his hand behind his head, keeping him slightly upright. “Unless you were like this before. I think it’s a mix of both, actually.” Natasha thwacked him in the back of the head for his comment, but he didn’t pay any mind to it other than a scoff.
She moved closer, getting a look at him. “Don’t be mean to the spider, Tony.” Natasha said, before reverting her attention back to Peter. “How are you doing, маленький паук?” She placed a hand on his forehead as she asked, retracting it moments later when his skin was hot to the touch.
Peter recoiled subtly when she reached out, her hands feeling cold against his skin. After a second, he managed to get a quiet answer out. “M’ body is one big ache.”
Natasha’s lips quirked up on one side, an amused expression creeping onto her face.
“Let’s get the ‘spider’, to the med bay.” Tony interrupted.
He gently coaxed him up, very slowly, but surely. “Pretty sure he had a nasty fever even before all of this happened.” His mentor added, mostly directed to Natasha. Peter wasn’t listening, anyway—he was too busy clinging onto Tony when he got dizzy, afraid he was going to fall to his death in his disorientation.
Not saying anything other than a hum and nod of acknowledgment, Natasha helped guide Peter to his feet. From the outside, the scene looked like a baby deer, fresh out of the womb, was trying to stand up on its wobbly legs for the first time.
The baby deer in question was pretty sure he was spinning. Along with the room. And the things in the room. Everything was spinning, matter of fact. It was making him want to vomit, pass out, and cry, all at the same time.
Tony’s a liar. He’s definitely dying.