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."

Ned raised an eyebrow at this, confused, but decided not to comment on it. Instead, he had only muttered a short "Okay, well, drink some water, alright? You need some fluids in you, dude," before unscrewing the cap and handling the blue water bottle to him.

Except, Peter didn't take it, so Ned had to act as calm as he could, and press the bottle against Peter's lips in order to get him to drink it, before he closed the cap and decided to settle it between the two.

"So, what happened?" he asked.

"Dunno," Peter whispered, his voice barely audible, as he rested his head in the crook of Ned's neck. "Thro't hurts. H-He'd hurts. Think I p'ssed out 'nd hit it, m'ybe? I don't... I d'n't rem'mber."

"Do you think Karen has any of the footage?" Ned questioned, concerned. If she did, then it was best to go over it, so he could be sure no one discovered Peter's identity ('cause with your best friend being concussed, you could never be too careful).

"Prob'bly," Peter breathed. "M'sk is in my b'g. Un'er the si'k, I th'nk. Room's sp'nn'ng."

"Alright." Ned nodded. "Alright, just let me go back to decathlon practice and I'll text May, okay? And then, if she isn't home, I'll bring you to—"

"N't a hosp'tal," Peter muttered. "Secret ident'ty. Sci'nce exper'ments. Sp'der DNA. No th'nks."

"Okay, not a hospital," Ned decided. "What about Mr. Stark then? Is he at the compound?"

"Nuh," Peter said as he shook his head, and brought another bout of nausea with him. "B-Bus'ness tr'p."

"Alright, I'll bring you to my house then, if May isn't home. My parents are at work and my sister's at a sleepover, so it should be okay. You cool with that?"

"P'ke...I need-" He was cut off by a gag, and lunged toward the stall. Ned lifted him enough by the armpits and turned his head as his friend vomited.

When the noises subsided, and he heard the toilet flush, he moved Peter away, and grabbed the toilet paper, handing it to Peter.

"Clean your face, I'm gonna go get my bag and then we'll head to my house. When all of this is over, you have my permission to throw up on me."

Peter nodded, and Ned went back toward decathalon, but didn't plan on barging in while they were doing the last questions.

"There you are. You can join us for the last three questions." Mr. Harrington smiled as Ned walked past him and grabbed his bag.

"Sorry, Mr. Harrington, I've gotta take care of my sick...spider."

MJ was just as confused as everyone else, so she got off the raised floor and caught up to Ned. "Ned, what is going on?!" She hissed, holding his arm tightly.

"Peter. He's not feeling good at all and threw up in the bathroom. I think he's got a concussion."

"You need to take him to a hospital. And don't try and insist that cause your parents are both in the medical field that you can take care of him. That's bullshit."

"I'll see you later." He insisted, and with that, he ran out of the room, leaving MJ to sigh before taking her place back on the stage.

"Okay," Ned said, as he cast a glance at Peter while walking him down the hallway, with his arm swung over his shoulder. "Just... be quiet when we get to my apartment, alright? 'Cause even though I don't think my parents are home, I have really nosey neighbours, and the last thing I need is to have them asking questions."

"Mhm'kay," Peter mumbled, his voice practically gone, but it wasn't like there was a way for him to disobey the order, even if he wanted to. And, thing was, he didn't want to. In fact, all he really wanted was take a shower, brush his teeth, and take a nap.

"Alright," Ned replied, as he came to a stop at the front of an old, paint-chipped door. Wriggling the doorknob a few times to see it was locked, he sighed before searching his coat pockets for the key his parents gave him. "Shit," he whispered. "Where is it?"

However, it seemed as if Ned didn't need his key as, at that moment, the door opened and the two boys came face to face with Ned's mother. "Ned! Peter!" She shrieked, ushering them inside and helping Ned bring his friend in, as soon as she caught sight of the sick (and injured) kid. "Oh my God! What happened?!" she asked.

"Concussion," Ned explained, as he helped his mom lead Peter to the bathroom, and then helped the injured teen lie down on the ground. "Think it was during gym class," he lied. "But the symptoms didn't show up until the end of decathlon, so I don't know."

"Okay." Ned's mom nodded. "We're gonna need the first aid kit from the kitchen, so go get that. And maybe some blankets, a clean shirt, a pillow, and an ice pack, too, will you?"

"On it." Ned insisted, running out of the room, quickly returning with the supplies she asked for.

"Thank you, sweetheart." She insisted, putting the pillow under Peter's head and slipped his dirty shift off, changing him into the Disneyland shirt. "Do you know what he's sick with?" She asked as she opened the first aid kit and turned the thermometer on, before gently placing it under his sleeve.

"I know he can't really talk. He also threw up, but that was probably the concussion."

His mother nodded, and took the thermometer out after it had beeped. "102.5. That's not great." She sighed, before grabbing the small pen light out of the first aid kit while Ned held the ice against Peter's head and draped a blanket over him. "Can you help me open his mouth?"

Ned nodded, and gently opened Peter's mouth while she clicked on the pen light. That was when Peter started waking up.

"Ow..."

"Peter, it's Amy Leeds, Ned's mom. Ned's here too. Do you know what day it is?"

"Sep'tember eight-teenth. N-name is P'ter Parker, f-from Qu'ens."

"That rules out memory loss. Peter, I need you to open your mouth widely so I can see your throat."

Peter responded by opening his mouth, and Amy clicked on the pen light, shining it into his mouth for a few minutes before clicking it off and telling him that he could close his mouth before turning to her anxious son.

"It's strep. He has all the tell tale signs that you can see without him being fully responsive. He needs to be in the hospital. His concussion needs to be under observation and he needs antibiotics."

"Mom, no!" Ned protested, a panicked and wild look in his eyes that showed they were filled with worry. "Peter... he—his aunt, May, works at a hospital! Do you know how worried and scared she'll be if she finds he was admitted to one?"

Amy took a deep breath and looked from Ned, to Peter, to Ned again, before she spoke. "I know," she responded. "But, Ned, as a mother, I can guarantee you that she'll be even more worried and scared if he doesn't receive medical treatment."

Ned sighed, and tried something else. "But Peter doesn't like hospitals, Mom! He has bad experiences in them. You know what happened the last time he was in one, right?"

Amy nodded. "Yes, sweetie, I know," she stated, knowing that the last time Peter was in a hospital it was because of his uncle's death. "But I can't handle a concussion by myself, okay? I'm only an ER nurse, I have limited knowledge; you know that."

Ned cast a look in Peter's direction, eyes beginning to water. He knew Peter wasn't anywhere close to death (or maybe he was, but, God, he hoped not), but it still felt like he failed. If he couldn't even protect Peter's secret identity, then how good of a 'Guy in the Chair' could he be?

"Sweetheart," Amy spoke, as she took the ice pack and settled it back against Peter's head, all while noticing her son's sad face. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"

Ned blinked back his tears, as he looked at his mother again. "He can't go to a hospital, Mom," he whispered, his voice broken. "I know it sounds weird, and ridiculous, and I know you just want to do the best thing for him, but he can't, okay? He can't."

Ned's mom looked lost. As a nurse, she knew she had signed some papers that had said she would always do the right thing, no matter what. But, as she looked back from Ned's unhappy eyes, and Peter's pale face, she knew that promise was about to be broken.

"Fine," she gave in. "I'm not gonna send him to the hospital, but I know his aunt works until eight, when it's late, so I still want him to have a doctor's opinion, alright? Either from the clinic down the street, or from the guy a few doors down, I don't care as long as he has one."

"Isn't that guy a fake doctor, though?" Ned questioned.

"That's his brother," Amy answered. "Now, go. And call your father and tell him that he has to come back at six-thirty tonight, alright? We... might need his help with this," she admitted.

••••••••••••••••

"Hey, I'm home." Tom Leeds called as he put his keys in the small bowl outside of the door before coming into the main room where Amy was hovering over the couch. "Ned called, said there was a emergency."

Amy just waved him over, her thumb pressed against her lip, and when Tom saw that Peter was on the couch and wrapped in a blanket, his son sitting beside him with a hand on his friend's ankle, he gently pulled his wife away and asked.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Strep throat, and a concussion of sorts. No memory loss, but he puked at least twice at the school, he's dizzy, his speech is off, and he's dazed. I don't know what's from the strep and what's from the concussion."

"He needs to be in the hospital."

"He can't go. Ned begged me not to take him, that's why I asked you to come home early."

"He needs rest. There is no doubt in my mind that it's a concussion, even without examining him. He needs antibiotics though for the strep. We both know that."

"We'll take him home once May is there, but I don't want him to be alone."

Tom nodded and sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, first thing's first," he said, as he went back into doctor mode. "He needs medicine, so I'm gonna write him a penicillin prescription, but it needs to be delivered to the nearest place right away, so it can be filled by tomorrow morning. Do you know what time the nearest Walgreen's closes?"

"Probably in like, twenty, thirty minutes?" Amy said, sheepishly. "They're not open late on Tuesdays, I know that for sure."

"Alright." Tom agreed. Setting his briefcase down on the coffee table in front of the two boys, he had then pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled something on it, before handing it to his wife. "Take this, go get it filled out. I'm going to stay here, take care of Peter, maybe see if I can get him to stay awake long enough so that I can examine him, or get him something to drink. Do you know if he's able to keep down any fluids?"

Ned, seeing as he could contribute to this part of the conversation, shook his head as he spoke up from his spot on the couch. "I gave him some water around an hour or two ago," he volunteered, "when he came to me for help. But he couldn't even keep it down for a few seconds, before it just came back up."

"Okay." Tom nodded. "Amy, go get that prescription filled," he said, as he shooed his wife out the door. "Ned," He stated as he turned to his son. "I want you to make Peter some tea, okay? If he threw up earlier, it's probably gonna settle in his stomach easier than something cold will."

"On it." Ned nodded as he got off the couch and went to the kitchen while Tom came over to the couch, sitting in the same spot his son was just sitting.

"Peter, I need you to wake up so I can check you over."

Peter let out a small whimper as he opened his tired and burning eyes, seeing the blurry figure that he recognized as Ned's dad.

"H'urts..."

"What hurts?" Thomas asked as he turned on his pen light, gently tapping Peter's cheek as he started to drift off again. "Kid, you need to stay awake."

"Eyes burn..."

"Alright, well I need you to follow this light with your eyes."

And with that, Thomas shined the dim light at Peter's eyes, and gently started to move it with Peter eyes slowly following it.

"Tea's ready!" Ned yelled from the kitchen while his father clicked off the light.

"G'ive me the tea." Peter mumbled in a robotic sounding voice before pressing his cheek against the couch, which led Thomas to look up at Ned, who was holding the mug while coming into the living room.

"Is this one of those memes?"

"Peter's recently discovered Shane Dawson." Ned insisted as he set the mug on the coffee table, before turning to his dad. "Can I do anything else?"

"Keep him awake. Your mom should be back soon, and we need to make sure he's able to be taken to his aunt."

Ned nodded, and sat near his best friend's head on the floor, before grabbing the mug. "Hey, man. I need you to drink this tea. I didn't burn it."

Peter cracked his eyes open and turned his head to Ned, taking the mug in his shaking hands, before propping himself on one elbow, using the other to hold the mug and drink the contents.

"N't bad."

Thomas started getting off of the couch when there was a sharp knock at the door, so he opened it, seeing Peter's aunt near tears and Amy who was clearly tired.

"I lost my key, and I saw May in the hall on her way up. I explained everything." His wife insisted as the two came inside the apartment.

"May?" Peter asked as he blinked a few times and set the mug down.

"Text me next time." She begged as she hugged him, running her hand through his hair. "All you gotta do is say you're heading to Ned's."

"C'uld'nt type."

"Let's just get you home." She insisted, helping him off the couch, keeping a arm around Peter's shoulder, before turning to Tom and Amy. "Thank you for taking care of him. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. We can bring his prescription tomorrow."

May nodded, before leading Peter toward the elevator, and soon the apartment was filled with a awkward silence.

Ned started to head upstairs, but that's when Amy stopped him by gently grabbing his shoulder.

"You did a good job today. Peter really needed your help."

"Thanks, mom."

"And now you can tell me why you didn't want me to take him to the hospital."

Ned now needed to think up a excuse, and FAST...crap, this wasn't gonna go well.