What if after an injury or during an illness, whumpee has multiple prescriptions from a doctor. They are too unwell to get out of bed, so caretaker picks up the medication for them, but whumpee has a bad reaction caused by:
A drug interaction that that might amplify sedation so the whumpee can’t stay awake or coordinate movements. Another combo might drop blood pressure suddenly, causing fainting or confusion. Some interactions might build slowly, creating paranoia or hallucinations.
An allergic reaction that causes itching, flushed skin, throat tightness, dizziness, or a creeping sense that breathing feels wrong. This starts small but builds over time.
Pain medication that triggers vivid dreams or confusion or medications that cause dissociation, emotional flattening, panic, or intrusive thoughts.
A mixup with the medications that causes strange mood shifts, blurry vision, or tremors.
Maybe the dosage it too high and the whumpee becomes disoriented or shaky, dehydrated, weak, or nauseated.
Whatever the reason, whumpee gets sicker, caretaker keeps giving the medicine hoping they’ll get better, but they’re only getting worse until whumpee needs to be rushed to the hospital. Caretaker brings the medications to the ER and the doctor says no wonder they’re so sick, the medication is wrong. Caretaker is devastated, they thought they were helping, but were actually making them worse. Caretaker is pacing in the waiting room afraid to go in and see whumpee, but a nurse comes out and says whumpee has been asking for them.
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@whumptober2020 Prompt #17: “I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks” - Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears
Word Count: 1110
Warnings: Blood
Synopsis: Peter stumbles into the Avenger Facility, dazed and confused. And covered in blood
Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3
Peter stumbled up the drive of the Avengers Facility, his suit hanging off him in tatters and an arm clutched across his abdomen while the other swung uselessly by his side. Every muscle in his body screamed out in pain, begging for him to just lay down and rest. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t sleep until he found Mister Stark. He forgot why but knew he had to.
Blood dripped from his fingertips, dark red and sticky. He wasn’t sure what happened exactly, but his daily patrol had turned sour, the beating he received almost knocking the life from his body. Those guys had just come out of nowhere, not even his spidey-sense could’ve stopped them.
He pitched forward, smashing into the glass door of the facility and leaving a red smear as he straightened up and yanked the door open. Normally, Friday greeted him as he entered, but the ringing in his ears blocked her out. “Mis’ser Stark,” he murmured, unsure if he even made a sound.
Each staggered step sent a jolt of pain running through his entire body, his head span and the world around him tilted violently. Exhaustion rolled over him in waves, even keeping his eyes open was a struggle. Seconds before his body gave out beneath him, Tony ran in, his blurred face contorting in what looked like fear.
Tony’s mouth moved wordlessly and he ran across the vast foyer towards Peter. “Mis’ser Stark, why are there two of you?” Peter’s legs buckled and he collapsed to his knees, catching himself with his hands. Both Tonys appeared in front of his face, mouth still moving and two fingers pressed to his wrist. Peter could feel the dregs of his energy draining away, he fell awkwardly into Tony’s shoulder, the older man caught hold of his shoulders and held him upright. “It’s so loud in here.”
* * *
One moment, Tony had been in his lab working on his nanosuit. The next, Friday was informing him a gravely injured Peter just stumbled in the front door. Tony jumped up, not caring how the housing unit and half his workbench’s contents clattered to the floor in his haste. Without wasting a second, he bolted for the foyer. The sight when he arrived was one he’d never forget.
Peter’s suit was torn to shreds, revealing his undershirt and skin beneath, every inch of fabric that remained stained a sickening crimson. Blood pooled on the floor at Peter’s feet, and a trail led out of the door and along the drive. “What the hell happened?” Tony ran forwards.
“Mis’ser Stark, why are there two of you?”
Shit, that’s never a good sign. Peter fell to his hands and knees, Tony skidded to a stop beside him and helped him upright, one hand moving to check his erratic pulse. “Pete, we need to get you to the medical bay.” Peter looked up at him, completely disoriented from reality. “Can you hear me?”
Peter’s head dropped to Tony’s shoulder, the rest of his body would have followed had Tony not grabbed his shoulders and held him up.
“It’s so loud in here.”
The words came out in one long slur. Then Peter passed out.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Tony scooped Peter into his arms, speed taking priority over comfort or care, and he took off as fast as he could manage in the direction of the medical bay.
* * *
Tony couldn’t sit still, he paced up and down the corridor outside the medical bay. Rhodey sat in one of the seats, his leg bouncing up and down quickly. He’d tried to get Tony to sit, but it was a lost cause. They hadn’t been able to get hold of May, she must be on shift, though he’d left a voicemail saying to call him back. Telling her that Peter had been beaten almost to death by a bunch of hooligans didn’t feel like a voicemail type of conversation. Happy was on standby outside the hospital to pick her up.
“Tones, come on. Sit. You’re no good to Peter if you’re exhausted.”
That was a good point. Tony sat next to Rhodey, elbows resting on his knees and head in his hands. “I’m no good to him at all, apparently.”
“Hey, man. You know that’s not true. You’ve done everything for that kid. Given him everything.”
Tony shook his head. “It’s not enough. I should’ve done more. You wouldn’t get it.”
“Uh, yeah, I do. My best friend got kidnapped in front of me. From the convoy I prepared, I set up.” Tony looked up, Rhodey was staring at the floor, leg still bouncing. “That was on me. I felt so strongly that I should’ve done more that I spent three months searching non-stop.”
“No, Rhodey, that wasn’t your fault. That was the Ten Rings.”
Rhodey met Tony’s eye. “Exactly, it took me a long time to see that. This is no different.”
Tony huffed a laugh. “I hate it when you do that.”
“What?” Rhodey smiled. “Make a good point?”
“Use my logic against me. Can’t you let a man wallow in peace?”
Rhodey reached out and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “Not on his own. Never.”
Doctor Cho walked out the medical bay door, both Tony and Rhodey jumped to their feet. Judging by the smile on her face, everything had worked out this time. “He’s awake, and asking for you.”
Tony breathed a sigh of relief and all but ran inside the medical bay. Peter sat up in his bed, a goofy, lopsided grin on his face, though maybe it was a little dimmer than it usually was. “Hey, Mister Stark.”
“Hey yourself.” Tony walked up to his bedside, smiling gently. “How many times have I told you to drop the Mister Stark stuff. It’s Tony.”
Peter shrugged, his grin growing in strength. “I don’t know, it’s kinda become a tradition of sorts. Tony feels wrong just saying it.” For emphasis, Peter shuddered, but instantly regretted it as his face contorted in pain.
Worry laced its way onto Tony’s expression. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “Just forgot for a moment. Have you spoken to May? She must be going out of her mind.”
“She picked up a shift, I think. Haven’t gotten ahold of her. Speaking of, you should leave her a voicemail before she hears mine, then she’ll really be freaking out.”
Peter nodded again, then tilted his head to the side. “I lost my phone back there somewhere.”
“It’s alright, kid. I’ll grab mine.” Tony turned to leave when Peter called after him.
“Hey, sorry for bleeding all over the floors and stuff.”
“It’s nothing. You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
He broke down, tore himself apart. He left Gotham, for a while, and dissected his body and dismantled his mind, learning fighting style after fighting style, meditation and stillness and detective work and survival skills and weaponry and so much more.
After he finished tearing himself apart and breaking down every facet of his life, he rebuilt himself, bit by bit, until he was new, and ready to return to Gotham. Ready to become the symbol the city needed, the symbol he needed.
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