Spider-Son & Iron Dad one shots

A Serious Case Of Brain Fog

⚠️TW: amnesia, hospitals, slight violence/gore, medical terms/talk⚠️

also obligatory authors note:  I'm not a doctor neither do I know basically anything about medical procedures other than what I google searched I apologize also yes I know amnesia isn't brain fog but the title is a reference to some of the things written in the fic ok are people even reading this far I'm sorry bye

"I've never seen a head injury like this."

"I know, he took quite a—"

"BP is dropping."

"We need to prep him for the OR."

"Stark will have our heads if—"

"He's going in to shock!"

"Giving him epinephrine now—"

...

"E....—ng.... oka...."

"...eter.... st...y.... us!"

...

...

Peter's eyes peeled open, his head fuzzy and his blood curdled with discomfort. There was a faint stinging in his arm, and when he had looked in the direction of the sting he saw an IV dripping some sort of medicine into his veins.

His mouth felt stuffed with cotton, and his head was pounding something fierce. He blinked his eyelids heavily, confusion clouding his head as he struggled to determine where he was.

There were items that he recognized in the room. Things that he absolutely knew what they were, but for some odd reason the word wouldn't come to his head—as if being stuck in the web of confusion that was his brain.

A man sat in a chair in front of him. He was completely unrecognizable. Grey hair was prominent in the man's brown beard, as well as his hair that looked considerably well-styled for someone who had looked like he'd been uncomfortably sleeping in a chair for an unknown amount of time. He had lines around his eyes, which were closed in his unrestful slumber, showing that he had known many emotions over the time of his life.

Despite not knowing who the man was, Peter felt a sense of peace around him. Something was familiar, somewhere, and that was all Peter could go on at the moment.

He cleared his throat weakly. "Sir?"

His own voice sounded unnatural to him; gravely and rough with the words sitting as thick and heavy as a large helping of molasses in the back of his throat.

Nevertheless, the man in the chair had jerked his head up lazily, looking around with a mix of lethargy and alarm.

"Where 'm I?" Peter spoke up after a beat. His voice hurt, and he couldn't tell if it was from lack of use, some sort of operation that was preformed without his knowing, or whatever injury that he endured to get him into this place to begin with.

"You're awake," The man said in response. His voice sounded like Peter expected it to, strangely enough. Despite never having heard the voice, it sounded familiar, having a specific soothing pattern in the speech that Peter couldn't quite describe. The man blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up. "Are you feeling okay? What do you need, kid?"

Surely he wasn't young enough to be called kid. Peter shook his head, regretting the action immediately after.

The movement sent a shockwave of pain through his spine and shoulders, every nerve firing up with harsh pinpricks of pain. He shuts his eyes tight, sucking in a tight breath.