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monaisme · 4 months ago

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Sicktember: Day 20

#20- Medication Bribery

Stephen tried to be inconspicuous while he flexed his fingers as he walked down the hallway of the still bustling medical facility. At least it was easier to do now that the chaos of the last twelve hours had started to settle. The Wakandans had been an absolute gift and had managed to take care of the majority of those wounded at the compound/battlefield with an efficiency Stephen only dreamed of for the hospitals back home, but there were still things to do, and so everyone was on the move.

The exhaustion made his managing the pain all the more difficult, and for a brief moment, he considered popping back to the Sanctum and taking his pain meds, but no. There was too much still to do. He needed to stay sharp and focussed. He just wished—

“Doctor Strange, could I bother you a moment?” The doctor asked.

Startled by the unexpected call, he hoped his wince of pain came across as more of a surprised jolt. He schooled his grimace into a professional smile. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

She was quick to explain, “I’ve just gotten word of a concern and am hoping that you have enough familiarity with the individual in question that you can be of help to us.”

Stephen’s brow furrowed in immediate concern, his pain forgotten. “I’ll do whatever I can, but Tony’s barely out of surgery? How can he be causing problems already?”

She shook her head, “I’m speaking of someone else, Doctor. The young son of Mr. Stark; he is refusing to leave the man, and while he holds himself cautiously, we have been unable to determine if he requires treatment or not.”

He had to concentrate for a moment to place who she was talking about, and then it clicked. “Are we talking about Peter Parker?” Stephen asked but didn’t correct the relationship. He hadn’t thought of him since he’s caught a glimpse of Hawkeye placing a field dressing on him while the worst of the wounded were being transported to their current location via portals.

“Yes, we had originally hoped he’d allow one of our staff to treat him during Mr. Stark’s surgery, but instead he has sat vigil outside of the medical suite. Even now, he continues to do so, which is noble but I grow worried that we will run into complications if he is left to himself much longer.”

Stephen sighed, “That boy followed Tony into space five years ago. This doesn’t surprise me at all. Now,” he stepped back and nodded his agreement, “If you’ll show me where our young spider is, I’ll see what I can do.”

/-/-/

Even in Wakanda, the risk of exposure to anything of a radioactive nature warranted concern, and as such, the long trek to an older, unused section of the facility made absolute sense in order to treat Tony’s injuries. Stephen’s feet, however, disagreed, not that he’d complain.

“How did the kid even get down here?” Stephen had to ask as they passed a desk that looked very much like a security check point.

“The rest of the Avengers were immediately brought to a separate wing of the facility for treatment and to debrief with King T’Challa. As far as we can gather, he was simply left behind and then somehow managed to track Mr. Stark down here.”

“And your security just allowed him to pass?”

The doctor only shrugged. “The child was recognized as one of your warriors, and we assumed one of the other Avengers would come to check on Mr. Stark and collect him before too long—Not one has come for him or Mr. Stark.” She looked sad as she added, “He’s been in the hallway for approximately eleven hours. We did bring him some clothing, and a recliner to rest in after he initially refused to leave, and there is a treatment cart prepared nearby in the event that we need to intervene... we can see that he is obviously trying to hide his discomfort.”

“And you’ve just left him in the hallway?” Stephen was trying to make sense of it.

“We had no choice. Mr. Starks’s initials scans showed remarkable levels of radioactivity all through his body. Having him come in would have required sanitizing protocols and personal protective equipment simply to get him into the room and we didn’t have the time or luxury. Levels are finally falling to safer levels now that the main...” she paused, then, “issue has been dealt with, but we still have to worry about sterile fields and infection risks. With him continuing to refuse any treatment, the boy is simply stuck.”

Stephen had known from the onset that Tony would have a long road to recovery ahead of him, and had heard whisperings about the amputation.

Stephen started cataloguing a list of physiotherapists to recommend and then stopped himself.

Tony was currently safe and tended to, but for Peter, it had been eleven hours. “And no one else has been to see Mr. Stark or check on his status, at least?”

She only shook her head, ‘no.’

“What about Pepper Stark?”

“Our last update indicated that she was needed to coordinate several aspects of the clean up effort at your compound in New York. She was here only long enough to give us permission to treat her husband before a man, Thaddeus Ross, I believe, came through and pulled her away.” She shook her head in distaste. “We have been in communication with her, and once the situation has been appropriately delegated, she and her daughter will make their way back to Wakanda. In fact, one of your sorcerers has made himself available for when she and her family are available to travel... a Mr. Wong, I believe?”

“Hm.” Stephen was appreciative of Wong’s consideration for the Starks. Yeah, he and Tony definitely had their differences, but no one deserved to be dragged from a loved one’s bedside at a time like this. As for the other Avengers, well, he had some thoughts. Regardless, “And I’m personally only hearing about this now because?”

“I am aware that you’ve been as busy as the rest of us for these many hours, Doctor Strange.” She replied sternly. “Now that the worst of our cases have been dealt with, I had assumed you’d be anxious to step away for some much needed sleep. We, well, I had hoped you could take charge of our young friend and convince him to allow for an examination and treatment.”

Stephen wasn’t sure sleep would be in his future, not with his nerve pain flaring so badly, but he knew he could at least accept temporary custody of Peter while they all figured out their new futures. He owed the kid that much, and so he replied, “Of course, Doctor. I’ll do my best to help,” as they turned into another corridor.

“I have seen your work today. I know you will.” She stopped and gestured toward the lone form situated about halfway down the hallway. “With that, I will leave you to your young charge, Doctor Strange. If we do not cross paths again before you leave Wakanda, it was an honour to work with you.” The doctor crossed her arms across her chest and bowed slightly.

Stephen recognized it and reciprocated. “Thank you,” he replied simply. “The honour is mine.”

With that said, his doctor-guide nodded, turned, and disappeared back toward the main building— leaving Stephen Strange to make his way down the hall to one Peter Benjamin Parker.

He could do this.

Besides, they’d developed something of a rapport, he thought to himself, especially after Ebony Maw and their time on the Q-Ship. And he’d only gotten the sense that Peter was a good kid. Honestly, he had to be good to do the things that he did day in and day out. Granted, it was five years later, and they had been trapped inside of an infinity stone for that long, but still. Trauma was supposed to bring people together, right? Stephen knew he’d read a journal article about that at some point.

He probably should have paid closer attention to percentages.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter spoke quietly as his new temporary guardian approached.

Well then, “I haven’t said anything yet. What makes you think I’m going to ask you to leave?”

“Super-hearing.

Stephen ran through what he’d said on his way to the kid, relieved that his fatigue had softened his sometimes too sharp tongue at least, and nodded. “That’s good to know.”

“And I’m fine, so you don’t need to worry about me anyways. I understood about the whole sterile field thing and infection risk so I’m not fighting you—or anyone on that, I just—”

Stephen waited patiently for him to finish his thought.

“I, uh—” Peter couldn’t seem to finish his thought. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Stephen stepped closer, “Peter?” Everyone, including the kid, looked like hot, exhausted garbage, but something was wrong.

Peter drew in what was obviously intended to be a deep breath, but it cut short with a gasp then a cough, then he doubled over as he clutched at the side Stephen had seen Hawkeye taking care of. “Ngh.”

With Peter’s eyes now closed to the pain, Stephen didn’t waste energy masking his own as he crouched in front of him, assessing. “Peter? Can you tell me what’s wrong.”

Peter didn’t answer.

Without asking permission, Stephen grasped Peter’s wrist, only to find a racing pulse... and heat. “Shit.” With his other hand, he pressed the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead. The boy was on fire.

Knowing he was busted, Peter glared at the man in front of him. “I’m fine.” He yanked his hand away, flinching at the movement. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Stephen clenched his jaw to keep himself from snapping at him for his stupidity. Instead, he looked up and down the hallway, hoping that someone... anyone would magically appear who could give him a hand in treating him.

“I don’t think many people come down here, Dr. Strange.” Peter said simply. “Sorry.”

Stephen exhaled hard, “If you were sorry, you’d let me treat you.”

“I said I’m—”

“Yes, yes, you’re fine. I know, sitting here in an apparently technology free hallway with no way to get help...” he caught sight of the treatment cart a few meters away. “Hang on.”

He grunted as he did it, but Stephen pushed himself up using the arms of Peter’s recliner and rushed over to the cart, dragging it back quickly. “I’m assuming that you’ve developed an infection from whatever wound it was that Hawkeye took care of back at the compound, am I correct?”

Peter’s pale cheeks flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. Now,” he fumbled through the one of the drawers, familiar enough with item placement after all the stitching he’d done today, “There you are,” he snatched something triumphantly and then commanded, “Stay still.” He placed a thermometer strip on Peter’s forehead and then lifted up the side of Peter’s sweatshirt to reveal a battle worn Spider-man uniform. “Okay, Peter, how do we get the spidersuit off of you so I can get at your wound?”

Peter stayed silent.

“Alright,” Maybe his regular temperament had only been hiding? “Decision made.” Stephen snapped on a pair of sterile gloves before painfully grasping the pair of trauma shears sitting atop the cart and snipping them in the air for effect. “Cutting it all off it is.”

Peter paled more, if that was even possible. “Please don’t?” He tugged at the hem of his top. “I’ll get it off then, just let me—”

It was Stephen’s turn to gasp as his fingers punished him for tormenting the boy. In a flash, the shears clattered to the floor and Stephen had fisted his trembling hands against the pain.

“Doctor Strange!?” Peter had shifted forward on his seat, trying to figure out how to help. “What’s going on?”

Ever the professional, Stephen’s mask was on again in moments. “It’s nothing. I apologize for that. It’s been a long day for all of us.” He shook his hands out and tried to switch the focus back to Peter and the thermometer strip that was now very much indicating a significant fever. “Now, tell me again how well you’re feeling?”

Now, Stephen should have known better than to jinx himself with all of his big talk about Peter being a good kid, as Peter’s mood flipped scowled and, looking Dr. Strange dead in the eye, replied back. “I don’t know, Doctor Strange? How are you feeling?”

How much time had Tony spent with this kid?

Not that he was at all worried about it. Stephen had spent a lifetime around difficult people.

“That’s not relevant at this particular moment,” he answered back calmly. “I think the greater concern is your fever of,” Stephen cast a glance at Peter’s forehead, “39.2°C, and what I’m guess at this point is also the start of septicemia? Unless there’s something else you’d like to tell me?” His brow furrowed in concern. “Can you at least tell me what your pain level is at?”

Peter shook his head in refusal. “I’m not leaving.”

Stephen was growing a little frustrated. “I’m not asking you to leave. I’m asking about your pain.”

Peter said nothing.

The mantle of Doctor Strange, neurosurgeon at Metro-General Hospital was settling around his shoulders for the umpteenth time that day. “Peter. I’m not comfortable with you sitting here getting sicker and sicker when you are literally surrounded by everything we need to correct this.” He glanced at Peter’s forehead again. 39.3°C.

Shit.

“Peter, please?” Even this sick and injured, there was no way Stephen could restrain the superhero vigilante and force him to be treated.

But Peter was teetering on the edge of giving in as he pleaded with Stephen. He could see it.

“I can’t leave him alone, Doctor Strange. Don’t you understand? I need to protect him...”

Wait. What?

“Tony? Who do you need to protect him from?”

Peter eyes filled with tears as he whispered, “From them.”

In a heartbeat, Stephen had placed his sling ring on his damaged fingers and steadied himself for a fight. He’d seen Peter’s spidey-sense on the ship, understood that there was some sort of innate precognition—except, as he looked both up and down the hallway, that there was no one there. He looked back at Peter, confused. “I don’t understand?”

The tears finally fell, “I have to protect Mr. Stark from the others! Gah!” Peter looked like he was ready to explode. “FRIDAY showed me Siberia right before our MOMA field trip and I saw how bad they hurt him, Doctor Strange! They just left him to die, and now they’re right here, in this building! And they could show up anytime they want! And now Captain America has a hammer AND a shield, so that’s, like double weapons for him and I can’t—” He caught a quick breath, “They don’t even care about him, and Ms. Potts is Mrs. Stark now so I’d trust her, but she’s not even here. And then I can’t even put his suit on him to keep him safe ‘cuz I don’t have tools to fix it! And I don’t recognize what Mark his suit even is! And I broke my suit and—It’s been five years and there’s no one else here who can do what I can, Doctor Strange. I have to keep Mr. Stark safe!” At the end of his word jumble, Peter exhaled slowly and then promptly burst into sobs, still stuttering out with each breath, “I have to—I have to—”

Stephen struggled to keep up with what Peter had been trying to say, but got the gist of it, not that it was the priority as he pocketed his ring once more and pressed a firm hand to Peter’s shoulder. “You’re okay, Peter,” he promised. “I understand now.”

And that was exactly what Peter needed to hear as he threw his arms around Stephen’s waist—or tried. A cry of pain escaped and Peter’s facade was crumbling—fast.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Stephen placed his other hand on Peter’s back and with a gently nudge, helped him to lie back in the recliner that he’d expertly set back. “Can I take a look at this now, Peter? I promise I can keep watch for you while I do.”

“But you’re hurt, too!” Peter gasped. “I can’t—”

“It’s fine. Okay? I’m used to it.”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ “But—”

“But nothing, Spider-Man!” Stephen needed to snap him out of his spiral. “I need you to hear me, okay?”

It worked, and Peter nodded.

“You’ve seen what I can do, right? Remember on Titan? I’ve never relied on the physical, Peter. You know that a little pain in my hands isn’t going to stop me if a threat shows up!”

Peter thought about it, then nodded again.

“Now, trust me, Peter. Please?”

Peter’s eyes closed and finally replied, “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Stephen crooned as he stepped away to collect the trauma shears still lying on the floor. “We’re going to do some cutting, but I promise you, I’ll keep it to a minimum if I can, and then you and Tony can fix this together, okay? It’ll be fine.” Stephen closed his eyes and prayed silently that he wasn’t a liar.

Peter nodded again as Stephen came back, a little less desperately. “Okay.”

Stephen smiled down at him as he made quick work of the sweatshirt and then spidersuit. “There we go,” he murmured as he cast a quick glance at the thermometer strip again. The fever was high and holding steady. “Now let’s get this bandaging moved out of the way and see what kind of a hack job Hawkeye did?” Stephen pulled back the bulky pad and gulped, then looked up and glanced about again, hoping for someone to miraculously appear to help them. There was no one.

Stephen took a deep breath and then released it slow.

“Well then,” It was time to have a conversation. “We have a bit of a situation here.”

Peter was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that this infection is pretty serious.” Stephen couldn’t keep his eyes off of the twenty centimetre gash that ran up Peter’s side, literally busting with infection at the seams of the rudimentary stitches Hawkeye had done and framed a hot, angry red with even redder dots speckling about it. “I can’t even imagine what sort of crap was on whatever weapon did this,” Stephen waved a hand over the wound. “I’m going to have to reopen this and clean it out, and it’s going to hurt—a lot. We’re definitely going to have to put you out for this.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he tried to sit up, “But you said you—!”

Stephen stopped his movement. “I know what I said, and I meant it. I’ll keep watch, but I’m going to need someone to help if I’m going to help you.”

“No!” Peter’s eyes widened. “You can’t ask—!”

“Peter.”Stephen cut him off before he could get worked up more, “I will definitely not ask any of the Avengers, but I do have my friend, Wong. I don’t think you’ve met him officially, but he’s the one that will be getting Mrs. Stark, remember? You heard about him earlier? When I was with the other doctor?”

He looked hesitant. “Uh huh?”

“If you give me a second, I can have him here so I can do what I need to do while he keeps guard. And, if you’re really concerned, I’ll have you know that he’s the one who trained me and I’m a total badass.”

Peter huffed a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t even matter. Regular drugs don’t work on me ‘cuz of the mutation—it’ll have to keep till we can get back to the...” He’d been about the say the compound, but then remembered. “Um, it’ll take forever to find something that would work.” He tried to hide his hopelessness, “I’ll be—”

Stephen was done. “39.4°C, Peter. That is what you’re temperature is sitting at. It is too high and rising. I’m pretty certain you’re some kid genius like your boss, and I’d be most grateful if I could not be known as the guy that let you boil your brain.”

“But I’m not lying about the drugs, though!” Peter was getting defensive. “Ask—” Peter stopped short of finishing his sentence.

Stephen let the slip go unacknowledged. He was too busy trying to come up with a solution—and then he remembered his earlier conversation. “Wait a minute. Steve Rogers was treated today and he’s a super soldier, right? And I’d wager a guess that the Wakandans had to synthesize something that would work for him. If we could track some of that surplus down—get Wong to bring it— would it work for you? Do you know?” Not that Stephen loved counting on a complex medical history provided by a sixteen year old, but it was all they could do.

“I’m pretty sure it would?” He didn’t sound sure. “I know that Mr. Stark used it as a jumping point, but...”

“But nothing! We’ll jump, too.” Stephen ran a hand through Peter’s hair for comfort. “Stark wouldn’t have risked your safety, and I’d rather get this done sooner rather than later.”

Peter was hesitant.

“Look, let’s make a deal. If you let me do this, I’ll get Stark to buy you a car, sound good? He seems like that kind of a guy to me—tell me that I’m wrong?”

Peter remembered the first... and second time Tony had offered him exactly that. “Nope. Can’t.”

“Great,” the sling ring came out yet again, “Now, you’re going to recognize the portal—but I’m not going anywhere. I promised, right? You simply get to see the convenience of how sorcerers live with not having cell phones.”

/-/-/

Tony opened his eyes again and looked over to the bed on the right of his as best he could.

As frustrating as it was that they hadn’t managed to be awake at the same time yet, there was still a comfort in seeing his Peter, calm, resting, and alive.

And it took away some of the sting of what he knew was missing under the mass of bandages at his shoulder.

A throat cleared, drawing Tony’s attention to the door of their room.

“I know this is probably a bad time to mention this, but you owe the kid a car.” Stephen Strange announced as he took a few tentative steps inside. “I’ll keep reminding you, though.”

“Anything,” Tony rasped.

Stephen winced in sympathy and came to Tony’s bedside. “Here,” he grabbed Tony’s water glass from the side table and held the straw steady as he sipped his fill.

“Thanks,” Tony mustered and then tried to glance around the room. “Pepper?”

Stephen smiled as he simply replied, “She’s sitting out in the hallway for a bit.” He took in the numbers flashing on the monitors around Tony’s head. “I’m glad to see that you’re doing so well. Peter’s excited to get back into the lab with you.”

Tony blinked slow, the damned exhaustion taking over faster than he’d have hoped. “Good—love ‘im,” he grunted.

“I can understand why,” Stephen agreed, then patted Tony’s good hand. “But you rest now, okay? We three are keeping watch over the both of you, okay?”

He’d have nodded if the burns to the side of his neck weren’t feeling so fresh, Stephen suspected, but Tony seemed content enough to slip off into sleep and that was good enough for him.

He remembered exactly how exhausting healing could be.

Stephen stepped around Tony’s bed to Peter’s, taking the time to check Peter’s vitals as well. It had been a close thing, in the end, and Stephen would be forever grateful to Wong for pandering to the whim of an emotionally overwrought superhero that carried too much weight on such slim shoulders—even though the little shit had tattled on him about his own pain once Wong rushed through that first portal with Pepper Stark to see what was wrong.

“Doctor Strange?” Pepper called from the doorway. “Wong would like to know if you’d like him to prepare something for you to eat for when you get back to take your medication.”

Stephen just chuckled. “Did he open up another portal from the Sanctum to ask you to do that?”

Pepper blinked innocently at the man. “I can neither confirm nor deny that, but Morgan cannot wait for Peter to meet your cloak friend.”

#Sicktember 2024 #Day Twenty: Medication Bribery #Day 20 #Hurt/Comfort #Irondad & Spiderson #Peter Parker & Doctor Strange #Post Engdame #everyone lives/nobody dies

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