Whump Bingo

"When All of This Is Over..."

it's finally done and it's Friday PST when I'm posting this! Also, these will be posted the closest Friday as to when I'm finished, no longer every single week.

Prompt: When all of this is over, you have my permission to throw up on me.

Thanks for the help, Star!

And now, on with the story!

Ned's used to worrying about Peter as Spider-Man.

Of course, being the good friend he was, he did worry about Peter before he became Spider-Man, but that was mostly because of the panic attacks he had, and Flash. And it wasn't like getting beat up on a daily basis was helping, by any means.

However, as he sat there in decathlon practice, Ned wasn't sure if there was a time he'd ever been more worried than in that exact moment.

Long story short, Peter had disappeared for a so-called "short patrol" at lunch. That was over two hours ago, and Ned knew it because he kept checking his watch every five minutes. And, now, over two hours later, he was still gone, and Ned didn't know what to do.

Peter has promised he'd be at decathlon practice. He promised.

"Ned?"

"Hmm?" The sidekick had snapped out of his trance and back into reality, as soon as he heard someone call his name. Seeing as all he had been doing was scrolling through his messages for the past ten minutes, he sighed and tucked his phone away, before meeting eyes with Mr. Harrington, their decathlon advisor. "Sorry. What's up?"

"I just wanted to ask if you were okay," The man spoke. "I know Peter isn't here today, and it's always kind of nerve-wracking when one of our members isn't here—"

'But he was supposed to be,' Ned thought to himself.

"—But I want you to let me know if you need a break, okay?"

Ned nodded, though the conversation didn't really sink in all that much. "Yeah," he agreed. "Okay, Thanks."

Mr. Harrington nodded and clapped his hands as he faced the stage and the rest of the teammates. "Okay," he announced. "Time to get to work. Michelle, you have those flash cards I asked for?"

For the next fifteen, or thirty, or forty-five minutes, Ned listened in as the team answered questions about art, music, science, and math, and did his best to answer a question every here and there. However, it couldn't have been more than an hour when he finally got a text that seemed to be from Peter.

Peter, 4:12 p.m.: Ned? N3ed 2atêr.

Ned, 4:12 p.m.: ?

Peter, 4:14 p.m.: stuuck.

Ned, 4:14 p.m.: I'll come get you. Can you send me your location?

Peter, 4:15 p.m.: B'athroommmm...

Ned excused himself, before practically racing down the hall to the bathroom, and what he saw wasn't good at all.

Peter was curled up in a ball, his head resting against on the wall as he shivered. And to make matters worse, Ned could see vomit staining his shirt, as well as a thick layer of sweat on his forehead.

"Peter?" the boy called as he knelt down beside his best friend and gently shook his shoulder. "Hey? I got your water, are you awake?"

"Mhm." Seemingly half-conscious, the teenager opened his eyes, but it didn't really do any good as they were just glassy and unfocused. "Ye'h," he muttered. "'M aw'ke. M' ok'y."