Peter shut his eyes tightly as Tony laid him on the bed. He clenched his fists, hard enough to draw blood as his fingernails pushed against the palm of his hand. He hated doctors, hated being touched and poked and prodded.

He felt his shirt being lifted and Dr. Banner's gentle fingers press into his skin, and he whimpered softly. Instantly, Tony was there, uncurling Peter's hands from digging into his own skin and taking his fingers in his own. "It's alright, Pete. You're gonna get through this."

"Breathe, Pete, breathe." This was Bruce. "You're doing great. If it hurts when I press on it, let me know."

"Okay," he whispered, barely audible. Tony's hand stroked his, and Tony was also stoking his curls gently with his other hand, grounding him slightly.

"Just pay attention to me. Try to breathe in time with me, okay?" Tony asked, taking slow, deep breaths. Peter focused on him, and slowly his breathing evened. He sucked in two deep breaths before it hitched again as Bruce touched his lower right side.

"Ow," he gasped. "Oh, that hurt. Stop, please," he choked out as Bruce pressed down in the same spot even harder.

"Does it hurt here?" Bruce asked, moving his fingers down slightly.

"Ye-es." Peter gasped. Just that small touch had sent pain shooting through his body. The fingers were removed, and Peter welcomed the brief respite. But instantly, it was even worse, as the fingers were replaced with a cold metal disk.

"Breathe in, Pete." Peter managed a gasp, which caused the stethoscope to press even harder into his stomach and made the pain worse. This was repeated a few more times, and each movement sent new tears rolling down Peter's face.

After the fourth time, the stethoscope was removed and it didn't come back down again. Slowly, Peter opened his eyes. "Are you done?" He asked quietly.

Bruce turned from the counter and sat down gently on the bed next to Peter. "You have appendicitis, I'm afraid."

Peter hunched his shoulders, making him appear even smaller. "Am I going to have to get surgery?" He asked timidly, but already knowing and dreading the answer.

"I'm afraid so. I'm going to put you through a quick scan to make sure your appendix hasn't burst yet, and then you're going to need surgery."

Peter shook his head. He pushed Tony's hands away and curled up in a ball, pulling his knees to his chest. "No, please. I don't wanna go."

"Pete..." Tony started, but he stopped as he looked at the crying kid.

"Hey, look at me," Bruce touched Peter's back gently. Peter flinched, even at that gentle contact. "It's necessary to help you get better. Once you heal, you can go back to being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. You'd like that, right?"

Peter managed to nod. "And because of your healing factor and super-strength, it won't even take as long for you to heal. For most people, they'd be banned from physical activity for six weeks, for you it'll probably only take about three."

Peter groaned at that. Even three weeks without being Spider-Man would be torture. But still, it was better than the alternative. Peter slowly uncurled himself, only to see Bruce leaning over him with a needle. He didn't even stop to think, he threw his arm up. It smacked into Bruce, who went flying across the room. Peter pushed Tony aside too, and ran blindly away. Suddenly he was stopped in his tracks by strong arms.

"What's going on? Peter, why are you running?" Peter looked up, and through his tears he saw the stern face of Dr. Strange above him. With a sinking heart, he saw Strange look out and survey the situation. His looked changed from one of annoyance to concern. "Oh, Peter, I'm sorry." And then Peter felt a prick in his neck as the world went dark.