This was a request, I hope it is enjoyed. WARNING: vomit.

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Everyone knows the myth that if you get a concussion, you have to stay awake for hours to avoid falling asleep and never waking up again. But what about the other symptoms, the persistent dizziness that doesn't ease for anything, the unsettled queasiness that is only made worse by the never-ending spinning sensation, the double vision that makes the dizziness even more overwhelming, and the headache that sneaks up on you leading to neck pain, difficulty thinking clearly, and sensitivity to lights and sounds.

Being a ghostbuster means that concussions are kind of old news, and common occurrences. No matter how much you practice, adapt, make new toys to make the job easier, and train for each encounter, accidents always happen. Especially when you're the only one in the family who feels like the family joke most of the time.

Trevor knew this feeling all too well: his sister Phoebe was the brainiac, his mom spoke his sister, Podcast was the smart friend, Grooberson was basically the smart stepdad, and all the original ghostbusters are smart in their own ways, even his friend that's a girl Lucky is smarter than he is. So he was stuck being the family punchline, the mascot of stupidity, the idiot that couldn't do anything right. But that was all okay, it didn't matter, at least no one could replace him as the family idiot... or so he hoped.

The alarm blared overhead through the entire firehouse, making the sore teen look at the clock in disgust. It was barely four in the morning, and this had to be the tenth call in twenty-four hours to come in for them. Given the time, the old geezers wouldn't be taking this ghost or infestation, which meant he had to get up and get going.

"Trev, we gotta go!" Phoebe yelled from downstairs, earning a groan of pain from her older brother.

"Yeah," he called back, getting up and lumbering downstairs at what felt like a snail's pace. He had not bothered to tell anyone that he had hit his head during a fight with a ghost earlier the day before. He had been knocked across the room, hitting his head on a pillar hard enough to break the pillar and end up covered in the pieces until the fight was over. That had been during the sixth fight, and he had been hiding in his room as long as he could to hide the injury from his family.

Once everyone was in the car, and speeding off towards the hotel that was being rampaged, Phoebe looked over at her silent brother in confusion. Usually he'd be whining about the speed or time, or something, but instead he was silent with his eyes closed.

She nudged her mom's arm, motioning towards Trevor once the woman looked at her.

"Trev, you okay?" Their mom asked, causing the teen to look up at her with a brief frown.

"I'm fine," Trevor lied with a shrug, eliciting a grimace that he wasn't able to hide fast enough to avoid his mom seeing it.

"I don't know if I believe you. You are really pale." Their mom pointed out, earning a nod of agreement from Phoebe, and even Grooberson looked at the rearview mirror and nodded his agreement.

"Just... a... uh headache." Trevor said, trying to blow off their concern and get them to stop worrying about him. A flash of intense pain went through his head, making him lean forward in an effort to block out all the lights, sounds, and faces looking at him in concern.

Grooberson looked at their mom briefly, thinking about if something could have happened to the teenager. "Honey, didn't that pillar crumble on him at the gym yesterday?" He asked, looking back at Trevor in concern.

"Trev, did you hit your head earlier?" Phoebe asked, catching on to what their 'stepdad' was saying.

Trevor looked at his sister in confusion, as nothing anyone was saying made any sense. "Huh?" He asked, as the pain in his head seemed to be increasing with each moment that passed. He was starting to feel highly disoriented and dizzy which made no sense at all.

"Trevor? Are you okay?" Grooberson asked, noting the signs that something was indeed wrong with his stepson.

All Trevor could do was shake his head, a pitiful moan slipping from his lips as the movement made the car spin erratically and sent a sharp pang of pain through his head and neck.

"We need to get him home, he can't be fighting ghosts right now. He will only get hurt more." Grooberson told his other half, who nodded in agreement.

Phoebe thought for a moment, before acting very out of character for herself. She reached out to Trevor, guiding him to lay down with his head in her lap. "Close your eyes, it might help." She offered when he looked up at her in confusion, before doing as he was told. She touched his forehead in concern, noting the warmth that was radiating from him.

"How's he doing?" Grooberson asked as he turned the corner too hard, trying to head back to the firehouse, as the kids' mom called the older members of their team to take over for them.

Trevor groaned, burying his face against Phoebe's leg, unable to hide his discomfort.

"He feels like he has a fever." Phoebe said, concern in her tone. "No sleeping, Trev." She added, recognizing the possible signs of a concussion.

"If he has a concussion, sleeping might help. In fact, it might help the fever disappear, then we can deal with the other symptoms too." Grooberson explained, looking at their mom with a look of concern.

"Okay, the older men are ready to take over as soon as we arrive." Their mom said, looking back at Trevor and Phoebe, when she heard what sounded like a whimper coming from her teenage son's lips. "Phoebe, did he just?" She asked in concern, uncertain what to say or do.

"Yes, mom. He whimpered, he is not doing well at all." Phoebe said, her concern leaking through her usually monotonous tone. She moved his hair away from his forehead, feeling the clammy dampness and the warmth radiating from him. "I can't tell if his fever is going up or if he just feels horrible." She added, sounding more than a little lost.

Trevor nodded, registering her unspoken question, and eliciting another whimper from his now pursed lips. The harder he tried to think about what was happening, or had happened, the worse he felt. Even breathing hurt his head and neck, even after he felt the car stop moving, he still felt like he was spinning and on a boat. He hated the idea that he might end up getting sick, especially in front of his sister, while he was resting against her lap, but he had a feeling that if something didn't change soon, he wouldn't have much of a choice.

"Mom, he is trembling... hard." Phoebe said in concern, unsure of what that particular symptom meant.

"Get him out of the car, or there will be a foul mess to clean up soon. Do you have a plastic bag or bin or anything back there?" Their mom asked, knowing that once the trembling started, her son was moments away from throwing up.

Phoebe looked around in a bit of a panic, before noticing a construction hat on the floor nearby. "Will this work?" She asked, bending over and showing it to her mom.

Their mom frowned but nodded. "It's better than nothing. Get it under his chin and be prepared to keep him upright." She instructed, jumping out of the car and going around to open the back to allow her children to climb out as soon as they were able.

Phoebe did as she was instructed, putting the hat under his chin, and helped him onto his side, while still supporting him, wincing when the movement made him whimper in discomfort. "I know, I'm so sorry, Trev. If you need to puke, go ahead, I am not moving until you are ready." She offered, even if the idea of him essentially puking in her lap grossed her out beyond belief.

Trevor, for all his attempted bravado, shook his head briefly not wanting to throw up in her lap, or throw up at all. He knew as soon as he shook his head, he had lost the battle with his body and stomach, as all the color drained from his face.

Their mom climbed into the back with them, seeing immediately that they had been right about him being about to vomit. "Trevor, don't fight it. Let it happen, then we can get you inside and laying down." She urged, knowing her teenage (young adult) too well, knowing he would do anything to the point of hurting himself to avoid this coming embarrassment.

"Please," Trevor begged, swallowing repeatedly, trying not to give into the urge to gag.

"Do you want to try get out of the car?" Grooberson asked, having joined their mom by the back of the car.

Trevor swallowed again, making an audible gulping noise as he offered a shaky thumbs up.

"Okay, on three we will lift you forward and help you get out of the car." Grooberson explained, earning a nod from Phoebe and their mom, and another shaky thumbs up from Trevor. "Alright... one... two... three..." he counted off, before Phoebe carefully pushed her brother upright and into the waiting hands of their mom and Grooberson.

As soon as Trevor was upright and being grabbed by the two adults, he whimpered pitifully, before gagging over the hard hat in his shaky hands.

"Easy, we got you. Go ahead and throw up if you need to." Grooberson urged, carefully guiding Trevor to sit on the bumper of the car, and supporting him as he tried and failed to keep himself upright.

Trevor whined, feeling the whole car spin erratically as he was moved and the hat was held in front of him.

"Oh, Trev, its okay. Don't worry, just try to breathe. In your nose, out your mouth." Their mother urged, rubbing his back as he learned into her touch, a wave of aggressive hiccups setting in. "Easy, easy, you're okay." She said softly, looking at Grooberson for help.

Grooberson took the hat from Trevor, holding it in front of him until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder to see one of the older generation was offering a bucket instead of the hat. "Thanks," he said, swapping out the hat for the bucket, grateful that there was less chance of a mess.

As soon as the poor, concussed young man saw the swirling bucket come into vision, he heaved violently, bringing up only liquid, since he hadn't been up for eating since the pillar had fallen on him. He had barely drank anything too, so after bringing up all he had in his stomach, he dry heaved until he brought up some bile and stomach acid.

The act and force of throwing up had him so overwhelmingly dizzy and disoriented, as he tried but failed to stay conscious. He went completely limp, as he welcomed the sweet relief from how he felt that went with losing consciousness. Him being unconscious prevented him from hearing the panic in his mom's voice, his sister yelling his name, Grooberson putting him in the recovery position, the sirens from the paramedics as they pulled into the lot, or even him being put on stretcher and wheeled into the ambulance. He didn't return to consciousness until he had already been through a CT scan, a MRI, had blood work done, and had been put on pain meds, antibiotics, an antiemetic, and supplemental oxygen.

At first, when he tried to open his eyes, it was painfully bright, but the second time he tried, he was able to open his eyes and look around without wanting to pass out or throw up again. After a few blinks, he was able to figure out he was in the hospital, and looked around to find Grooberson, his mom, and Phoebe were sitting nearby. Phoebe was closest to him, so he bumped her foot with his, causing her to jerk upright in surprise.

"Trev, you're awake." She said, her normal composure slipping a bit in relief.

Grooberson and their mom crowded close, glad to see he was awake and not whimpering.

"How are you feeling, honey?" Their mom asked, earning a tired smile from the young man.

"Not dizzy anymore, my head and neck don't hurt as much, m...y... head feels w...weird and fl...oaty though, and my stomach is s...till upset." Trevor listed off, tripping over his words, as another round of hiccups set in.

"You're on an antiemetic, it should stop you from feeling sick." Phoebe said in confusion.

"Not always, sometimes they ease the dizziness but not the nausea." Grooberson explained, hitting the call for a nurse button, and grabbing the nearby sickness bin. "Gonna need this?" He asked the young man, hoping he would say no.

Trevor shrugged briefly, before grabbing the bin from Grooberson and gagging over it. The gagging hurt his head and neck, but thankfully didn't make him feel dizzy again. Once the gagging started, he was left dry-heaving for what felt like ages.

A nurse walked in at the tail end of his dry-heaving. "Oh you poor thing, a massive concussion and you can't even attempt to calm your poor stomach. I'll get you a different antiemetic and maybe some lemon-lime soda." She offered, earning a nod from the exhausted young man. She left, returning a few minutes later with a vial, syringe, and cup Andean of bubbly soda. She injected the med straight into his IV, and offered him the soda. "Small sips," she instructed, before leaving the room.

Trevor took a couple sips, before his eyes slid closed of their own volition. His family staying close to keep an eye on him until he was cleared to go home the next day, with strict orders not to do anything strenuous or any heavy lifting until all his symptoms were gone. 

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I hope this was an enjoyed. Please like, comment, and request away. Love you all! <3