On the other side, however; the buzzing began when Friday attempted to alert him that her scanners were picking up a dip in his vitals which quickly became a red alert for the other Avengers. Tony was the first to burst into Peter's bedroom, calling out his name and charging into the bathroom only to find the youngest Avenger under the water.

"PETER," Tony cried as he ran to the tub and grabbed Spider-Man by his armpit forcing his head above the pink water.

"What the hell," Steve called shocked as he too burst into the bathroom.

Tony looked up with wild, panicked eyes, "I-I don't know! He was just like this under the water, help me get him out."

Banner rushed in as Steve and Tony had Peter lifted and onto the ground, seeing the boy bare Bruce quickly threw a clean towel over him. For a moment Bruce took in all the damage to the kids' body; scars and bruises lacing his body, the gash on his head and the purple to his fingers.

"Peter, open your eyes!" Tony yelled to him unable to control his volume, hands and voice shaking.

In that moment, his eyes twitched responding to the noise until suddenly they stopped, "Friday we need a gurney. Now!" Bruce called to the AI.

"One is already on the way; they will be here in thirty-two seconds, Dr Banner."

"Tony, move."

Cap helped Tony up as the older gentleman stared helplessly at his kid in his awful state, Bruce checking him over. From the moment the gurney arrived, to when Peter was stabilised and comfortable in one of their medical room beds; Tony did not let him get out of sight. Finally, Bruce allowed Steve and Tony into the room, Natasha at Bruce's side as assistant.

"So?" Steve was the first to speak as Tony wandered to Peter's side.

Natasha sat in the armchair in the corner of the room, "one cracked, and one broken finger; some small lacerations on his arms and chest, a small crack on two ribs; and a moderate concussion. We also suctioned the bathwater that was caught in his throat, but his breathing wasn't badly compromised," Natasha explained looking up to Bruce.

"We stapled his head wound and braced the fingers. While we were performing the x-rays, Peter stirred and woke up for a few minutes, a good sign obviously, but we will need to wake him up every hour to be on the safe side. You know how concussions are," Bruce nodded to the others, Steve returned the gesture while Tony simply stared. "I'll take first shift," he frowned at Tony seeing the protest about to happen, "You're all tired from your mission; Tony you can come after a minimum four hours of sleep, as goes for the rest of you;" Bruce sat beside Peter, "So I suggest you go and get rest now so you can come back quicker," the doctor ordered.

With some protests Tony was removed and an hour into Bruce's water Peter stirred on his own. "Ow," the teen moaned delicately moving his right hand toward his head.

Bruce gently patted his wrist, "Try not to move this one, Pete, you've broken a finger and cracked the other," the older gentleman explained, "Friday dim the lights to 40%."

Friday obliged much like earlier, Peter slowly blinked his eyes open feeling much more nauseas and dizzy than earlier, "I dn fe'l so g'd," Peter struggled wrapping a hand round his stomach. A basin was bought to his face allowing him to vomit not over himself.

"It's the concussion," Bruce explained slowly rubbing circles on his back. Finally, the vomiting ceased and Peter fell back into his cushioned bed, too tired to stay upright, "Try to get some sleep, we will wake you up every hour just for a few minutes to keep control of the concussion, okay?" Before he had finished his sentence, Peter had succumbed to sleep. Bruce smiled at him before cleaning out the basin and waiting by his side with a book in hand.

Every hour, as Bruce described, he woke Peter. From Peter's perspective things were blurry and puzzled, during the third time Peter had asked for some pain killers for his head but Bruce explained he had already given the safest amount he could thanks to his head injury. It was the fourth hour of being woken up Peter found a new person by his bedside.

"Hey kiddo," Steve smiled, his eyes creased with worry looking down at the young hero, "how are you feeling?"

"Um, I'm okay," he felt embarrassment creep onto his cheeks; he was used to Bruce and Tony taking care of him, as the doctor and the father [not like Peter had ever said that to Tony], but Steve was new. "W-where did Dr Hulk go?" Peter questioned without filter, using the familiar nickname he and Ned had supplied to Banner.

"Dr Hulk?" Steve chuckled, "You really did hit you head," the hundred-plus-year-old man grinned.

Peter flushed harder, "Oh my God, please don't tell him I said that," he winced at his own volume.

Steve rubbed his shoulder securely, a now knowing smile on his face, "Go back to sleep," he instructed seeing the wince.

Peter closed his eyes and rested his left hand on his forehead lightly placing them in his corneas, relieving some tension from his headache, "Um, Steve, what happened earlier?"

Steve shook his head, "Someone'll explain when your head isn't hurting, okay?"

With that comfort Peter finally nodded off. Steve was there the next time he woke. It was five in the morning the next time he was woken, this time by Natasha. She spoke softer than the others, more careful, "How are you feeling?"

Peter thought for a moment, "Crappy," he grinned slightly, "But better than before," he explained sitting more upright.

"That's good," Natasha returned the smile. She bought a small tray with gauze and alcohol wipes on, "I just need to change your bandages," she explained observing the head wound.

Peter turned his head, the headache still present. He always liked hanging out one-on-one with Black Widow, she was a lot more relaxed than he expected, and so, so cool! She had told him a lot of her old missions, how she met Clint; but his favourite is and will always be when Happy and her met and she completely winded him. Reality sunk back in at the sting of alcohol wipes, "Ouch," he wined trying not to pull away.

Nat smirked teasingly, "Come on Spider, don't tell me this hurts worse than receiving the hit?"

"I had adrenaline keeping me going then! All I have this time is an already-bad headache," Peter complained light-heartedly.

"So, how did this happen anyway?" Nat asked eyeing his expression as her hands tenderly worked.

"Well," Peter thought back…