#the other day we were both commiserating over how much hot flushes SUCK

[lunarflare64]

I love it when old characters ("old", the minimum I consider old is 40 and even then, its the same vibe as saying an 18yo is an adult, it doesn't count but it also does) complain about pain symptoms and its literally just something I, a 23yo, have to deal with 24/7. Yes I would also kill somebody if they took my heat pack from me, yes I also have to constantly be moving or else my spine will make my life hell, yes I also always need a chair nearby because my knees will force me to listen to their complaints at the threat of them letting me fall (love slamming my chin on a bench or falling face first into the sink. I fell into a shopping cart once. In public.) Its just a big same. I get you buddy. 40 may not be old but neither is 23, we should not be putting up with this shit so young

[monaisme]

One Week Later - Chapter One

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

He had drifted in and out of the consciousness for the first five days-- which he guessed, after the fact, had been a blessing.

His transformation, which had taken three days the first time 'round, still hadn't quite finished seven days later.

He was trying to be patient but, well, it would’ve been nice to sleep all the way through to the end. It seemed he was destined to suffer fits and jags of pain and spontaneous naps to recover from them. It hurt... and it sucked.

Dr. Cho couldn't be 100% certain as she hadn't been around after the bite, but she'd felt safe in assuming that the prolonged change had to do with all of Peter's injuries from both Titan all those years ago and the battle in Upstate New York. The concussion had been pretty significant, according to the doctor. Multiple scans had been taken to keep track of that healing, seeing as he'd been so out of it from the worst of the fever. The broken ribs still had a ways to go towards knitting back together but he could inhale just a little deeper before it hurt so that was a win. And there was no need for stitches for the deeper stab wounds—Mr. Stark’s nanoparticles were taking care of that. The dislocated shoulder, however, still required surgery.

Correction. Another surgery. Peter looked up at the clock on the wall... in about thirty minutes.

Arthroscopic surgery had apparently been performed on the second day after the battle, once all of the other wounded had been tended to, not that Peter remembered much from those first five days. Tendons and cartilage had been damaged to the point that Dr. Cho was certain it needed intervention so she'd done her medical magic per Spider-Man protocols, being as non-invasive as possible, knowing that Peter's body could do the rest-- except that it hadn't.

It had been quite the gong show, in fact—his fever had spiked along with his blood pressure and all sorts of bad things had Dr. Cho plus Mr. Stark and all the rest worried out of their minds.

... but he was definitely on the mend now.

Really.

Peter fussed at his hospital gown nervously and  wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he still had some dust stuck somewhere in him-- gumming up the works like Uncle Ben used to say when their old '97 Pontiac Firefly would stall again and again and again-- or something like that. He couldn't be sure, but yeah, he was definitely curious about it.

"Knock, knock!" The rapping of knuckles against the door frame pulled Peter from his commiserating. "Guess what surprise the most super-amazing best mentor on the planet got for his currently boo-booed Spider-mentee?" Mr. Stark grinned big and slid into the med bay room.

Peter tried to think of something he’d wanted, then brightened immediately as hope flared. He looked to the man and then at the doorway Mr. Stark had just vacated. "Is May here?!" He asked eagerly. He repressed the flinch of pain as he struggled to sit up in the bed. "Did Dr. Strange finally get May here? May?!" He called out.

Peter was too busy trying to look around Mr. Stark to notice the look of regret flashing across his face before he could school it into something more sympathetic. “I’m sorry, kid.” He stepped up to the bed and moved to help Peter lay back down. “I should have been more thoughtful.“ He pulled the blankets back up to the boy’s neck and tucked him in tight. “One of the wizards was willing to make a pit stop and grabbed you a sandwich from Delmar’s before coming back to Wakanda. It came back hot so I’ve got it hiding away in one of the kitchen’s fancy stasis units and is ready for you as soon as you get the all clear from Dr. Cho to eat after they take care of...” Mr. Stark waved toward Peter’s shoulder, “that.”

Peter flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I just thought that...” He trailed off, and sighed. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, Mr. Stark, I promise! It’s just that everyone else has family being brought over and I’m sure that everyone is really busy, I only hoped that...” His eyes glistened with tears he was trying so hard to not let fall. He used his arm to brush the wetness away. “I’m just being a baby. Sorry.”

He had tried to tamp down the jealousy he’d felt when Mr. Barton had popped by to introduce himself properly and had gushed about how amazing it was to see his wife and kids after the last five years—not that he could wrap his brain around that bit of information yet, but still—

Where was May?

Mr. Stark interrupted his wandering thoughts with the brushing of his hand against Peter’s cheek. “You’re not being a baby, so stop talking that way. You’re allowed to miss her, and once this is all over and you get the all clear to leave the med bay, we’ll get you to our temporary quarters so you can have a good, long video call with her, okay?” Mr. Stark moved to run his fingers through Peter’s hair, then leaned forward, “Don’t tell anyone I said this,” He whispered conspiratorially, “But the tech here is incredible. When everything is settled, we may need to set up a play date between you and Shuri.” He gave a wink and straightened up as he noticed one of the nurses enter the room with a rolling cart full of medical supplies.

The nurse smiled kindly at the two heroes and then focused on Peter. “I’m glad that you’re awake. Dr. Cho has asked me to get final prep out of the way.” She snapped on a pair of gloves and starting pulling out supplies for an IV. “She’d prefer a new line so we can keep you on the IV nutrients during the procedure,” She assessed his still slinged arm, then moved down the bed to uncover his leg. “I think we’ll do a little reorganizing so we can just get this done quickly and be off. The surgical suite is ready for you, so if you’re good, we can get this show on the road and get you on the mend.”

Peter blanched and looked to Mr. Stark with sheer terror on his face. Being unconscious and having surgery was easy, this was a whole other kettle of fish. “Um...” He struggled to not panic. “Mr. Stark?” His breathing started to pick up.

Both the nurse and Mr. Stark picked up on the cues right away. Mr. Stark grabbed the boy’s good hand in support and gave the nurse a quick look. She backed out of the room without another word and closed the door behind her.

“Hey, hey, kiddo. You’re okay,” Mr. Stark soothed. “Why don’t you take a deep breath me, yeah?” He pulled in an exaggerated breath. “In...” and then blew it out with just as much effort. “... and out.”

Peter tried, then flinched, grunted, and then shifted to try and relieve the pain that flared in his ribs even as his anxiety ramped up and he struggled to catch his breath.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, sweetheart. Sorry!” His hands fluttered around Peter, trying to find something to fix. Mr. Stark looked to be on the edge of his own panic attack but Peter could do nothing. Then Mr. Stark lit up as he apparently came up with another idea. “Okay, kid, this is gonna seem weird, but let’s keep those breaths quick and short, okay?” And then the man was demonstrating, “He-he-he-he-hooo. He-he-he-he-hooo.” Mr. Stark squeezed Peter’s hand in assurance.

Peter tried to emulate him, and after a couple of minutes of lost rhythms and wiped away tears, Peter was calm enough that he felt safe speaking again, “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I...” He dried he cheeks again, “I don’t know where that came from. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to have something fixed and all... I just...”

Mr. Stark smiled down fondly at the boy, “Maybe not, but you’re far from home and your hot aunt isn’t down the hall waiting to chew you out for doing something stupid enough to require surgery—and honestly, we’ve had a pretty shitty week, if you don’t mind my saying. I mean, I’ll be forever grateful that you’re back,” and Mr. Stark leaned over to plant a big ol’ kiss on Peter’s forehead as he said it, “but we fought a literal battle over my demolished compound, you were gone for five years, you were hurt, your powers are out of whack, you are currently situated on a different continent altogether, and the world doesn’t seem to remember that we deserve a little down time after battling for the fate of half a universe.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “We’re allowed to be stressed, and if it comes out in a pre-surgery freak-out, then so be it.”

Peter chuckled, being mindful of his ribs. “Yeah, I guess. And—um, thanks, by the way for the, uh... the breathing thing.” He was confused though, “Can I ask a dumb question? Was that a breathing exercise for women in labor?”

A blush tinged Mr. Stark’s cheeks and he rubbed at the back of his neck in apparent discomfort. “Yeah, Pete, it is, but it worked so no teasin’ the old man about it, got it?!” He pointed a finger at the boy in the bed. “You were hurting and I couldn’t think of anything to help with the broken ribs and all. Short breaths made sense and it just came to me.” He laughed low to himself, “I think it was pretty ingenious, if you ask me.”

Peter blushed, himself. “I guess it was. I’m curious to know how you’d know—“

A knock on the door interrupted his question. “Hello?” Dr. Cho opened the door and peeked her head into the room. “I’m sorry for intruding, but we’ve only got the surgical suite and staff for an allotted period of time and...“ She trailed off.

Mr. Stark looked at Peter, cocking an eyebrow in question.

Peter hesitated, then nodded ‘yes.’

Mr. Stark smiled at him then gave his still gripped hand another assuring squeeze. “He’s good to go, Helen.” He finally looked towards the doctor. “But you’ve got to hurry this up. The kid has a date with the #5—extra pickles and squished really flat, and we’d like to get that to him before someone in the kitchen realizes we’re hiding the best sandwich in Queens and absconds with it.” 

Peter snort-laughed then closed his eyes to the nurse as she re-entered the room to do her prep. He didn’t want to be rude, he just couldn’t...

Ah, shit! He knew it was coming before it hit, and then—

She waited patiently for him as the pain zinged up his spine, causing him to arch off the bed and whimper as he waited for the episode to pass. She simply stepped away from the bed so Mr. Stark could come close enough to whisper words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this, kid.”

“It’s gonna pass.”

“I’m so, so sorry...”

This episode lasted only a few minutes, but it left Peter exhausted, like always. After taking a second to pull himself together, he gave the nurse the go ahead with a nod and closed his eyes again—trying to ignore the sounds of movement and the poking and prodding at his foot.

“A little pinch.” The nurse whispered, and then there was more than a little pinch, but the second line was in. “Good job.” On what, he didn’t know, but it was done and Peter worked to keep himself from jumping off the table.

Dr. Cho came to his bedside again, “Well, Peter, I’m hoping that we can get everything sorted this last time and give your transformation a chance to finish the job without having to worry about all of this extra work.” She winked playfully at him. “And then I can start doing my regular job of putting you back together with all of the standard superhero stuff. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

He understood that she was trying to put him at ease, and it would have worked, but something was niggling at the back of his brain and he couldn’t understand what was going on. He ignored it. “Sure. Let’s do this,” he replied.

Giving a nod to the nurse on his opposite side, Dr. Cho released the break on his bed and they started moving him toward the door.

“Wait!” Peter shouted in renewed panic. “Mr. Stark?!”

He popped back into view, having kept out of the way as he was sorted. “I’m here, baby. You’re safe.” He bumped the nurse out of the way and took her place as they moved down the hallway.

He tried to look brave, but—“Could you...?”

Mr. Stark didn’t look to anyone for permission. He just answered. “I’ll go with you as far as I can, okay?”

Peter could have cried from relief, but remained strong as he nodded. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” He blinked away the moisture in his eyes and exhaled, “Uh, thanks.”

Mr. Stark ruffled his hair. “You never have to thank me, sweetheart. Do you understand?”

Peter smiled, tentative, “I guess?”

Mr. Stark huffed in frustration. “You guess? We’ll need to have a chat over that sandwich later, okay?”

By this point, they’d managed to find their way to the surgical suite. They parked the bed and Dr. Cho disappeared inside the room for a second.

Peter was about to ask if maybe she’d changed her mind about everything when she popped back out and tossed a surgical cap, mask, and gown at Mr. Stark. “Put that on, and then touch nothing, but Peter once we’re in. If you behave, you can stay with him until he’s asleep, okay?”

Mr. Stark nodded and immediately put on the gown while Dr. Cho entered the room again. He hesitated with the cap though. “No one appreciates the effort I make to look this good,” he complained. “Seriously.” He shook his head and looked down at Peter as he placed the mask on his face. “The things I do for you, kid.”  

Peter grinned at that, and for a moment he could imagine they were back in the lab at the compound and it was just the two of them being idiots while blowing crap up. “You do it because you love me,” he teased.

If they’d been back at the lab, Mr. Stark would have made a crack about doing this to keep Peter from turning to the dark side, or from working for the competition, or anything other than what he’d really said—“Yeah, kid. I really do.”

And THAT was the moment Peter realized that something had shifted in the five years. He’d heard the ‘sweetheart’ and maybe even the ‘baby’ but...

Another nurse came out of the room to address them. “Okay, we’re going in now. Once we enter the room, we’ll transfer you to a different gurney and tuck this bed away for you to use later. The room is sterile and will remain that way if everyone does what they’re supposed to do.” The nurse looked directly at Mr. Stark. “I am to remind you, sir, that you can ask Princess Shuri about the tech and sterilization methods later and that—and this is a quote from Dr. Cho—“you’d better be good, Tony, or you will be out on your ass faster than you can say ‘nanoparticle.’”

Mr. Stark barked a laugh at that and raised his right hand. “I promise I will be a good boy.”

The nurse seemed to believe him so they worked together to pull the bed through the doors and into the chill of the surgical suite. Peter would have been impressed if he wasn’t suddenly terrified.

Peter couldn’t suppress the shiver as he felt the cold press in on him and he thought again about running away—somewhere warm and vibrant and Mr. Stark could come and then—he was being transferred to a metal table, just as cold as the room.

Mr. Stark came into view again, and was again running fingers through his hair in comfort. His heart was in his throat and he couldn’t speak.

“You’ll feel a little chill here, Peter,” Dr. Cho was talking to him as someone off to the side started injecting an anaesthetic into the IV line.  

He felt it as it entered his system, the mix of standard and enhanced drugs because his body didn’t know what the heck it was doing anymore, and then whatever bits of Spider-Man that were fighting to come through did exactly that. Even as his thoughts tried to soften, he battled and ached to come back from the nothingness that was trying to catch hold of him again. His eyes flew open. He couldn’t go again! His drug weakened limbs felt weighted but still fought against gentle hands pressing him to the table, yet he tensed with anticipation of them flaking and floating off into the aether—“NO!” He couldn’t do it again, and his panic flared one last time as the anaesthetist gave one last push. “stop—“ he slurred. “don’—wanna go, ms’r star—“ Tears streamed down his temples and he finally gave up as he whispered, “’m—‘m sorry—“ 

Peter fell limp against the table—

And didn’t see Mr. Stark, as he stood over him, tried to comfort him—wept for him.

Peter also didn’t see the glare on Mr. Stark’s tear stained face as he looked at a paled Dr. Cho. “You get in. You fix it. You get out. Got it?”

Peter didn’t see her nod in agreement and start barking out orders to the medical staff in the room.

And Peter didn’t see Mr. Stark lean over to kiss his forehead and then step back into a quiet corner, deciding to not leave the boy’s side unless they dragged him forcibly from the room.