Breaking

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"Will I really take two days to heal?" Peter groaned, leaning back against the seats as he begrudgingly let Paddy, Harry, and Sam, treat his injuries caused by the fall. They sprayed some sort of healing bacterial spray all along the scratches after they'd had him pull off the Spider-Man suit to allow full access to each of the injuries, as well as some sort of cold spray on all of his bruises (which left him covered in the sticky substance, irritatingly).

"Three days until you heal fully, two days until the limit of recommended bed rest has been reached," Sam replied patiently as he tightly wrapped up Peter's ankle with some bandages, Peter wincing when the knot was tied.

"Pleeeease don't tell me we're gonna wait that long to get to Wakanda?" Peter threw his head back on the blanket acting as a pillow the robots had given him.

"We will have to, for your safety."

Peter scowled, turning his head to the seats and closing his eyes to convey his frustration. He bit his lip when Paddy came up to his head.

"Keep still," Paddy ordered, before dabbing cleaning alcohol on a cut on Peter's cheekbone, making the teen wince again. He moved down to treat a similar scratch on Peter's neck, washing away the dirt and sweat that came from the pain of the wounds, and the cleansing of the wounds.

"Where even are we anyway?"

"Southern Nigeria. Two hundred miles from Wakanda's border, actually."

"Do you think that maybe Nigeria might have tools like Wakanda? Like, what if we don't have to go to Wakanda--" Peter gasped, bolting upright as panic took over, "The flash drive!" He looked around frantically, despite Paddy urging him to lay back down. "Is it still here?! Did we lose it! Oh no, no! Where--"

"Peter!" Paddy said loudly, clamping a hand on Peter's shoulder, the pain making Peter wince and turn his attention to the robot. "We have the flash drive," Paddy said, now calm that Peter was looking at him. He held up the chip thing to calm the teen down. "We have the drive, and the Mind Stone. You do not need to worry."

Peter stared at Paddy for a long moment, taking a minute to register the words spoken to him, before his panic and franticness calmed down.

He shivered. "Right. Right," he said, as much to himself as to reply. He blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then finally, he sighed, raising his hand to press the heel of his palm to his eye before allowing Paddy to gently push him back down. "Right. We're okay. We're fine." He closed his eyes again. "I'm fine."

"That's right," Harry prompted, working on some injuries on Peter's abdomen. "You are okay, you just need to rest."

Peter frowned. "But... I'm fine, just a bit battered."

"The recommended treatment for a concussion is mental as well as physical rest," Sam explained, moving on to treat other injuries on Peter's legs. "It would be best if you got some sleep."

"But I did sleep," Peter insisted, trying to sit up again--only to have Paddy press down on his shoulder, effectively signaling him to stay still. "You told me to get some sleep yesterday, and I did, and then I fell. Does being unconscious technically count as sleep?" he mused.

"No, and it does not matter how much rest you got, previous to the injury. You still need it."

Peter huffed. "I don't want to go to sleep. I'm fine."

"Do not force us to make you," Harry warned.

Brushing off the intimidation he felt, Peter scoffed. "You sound like my Aunt. Or Mr. Stark." Grief washed over him at the name, and he wondered why he'd even mentioned his mentor in the first place.

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