He's going to shoot.
Miles stalled- Peter had been teaching him how to not react on his spidey sense all week. ("Sometimes someone has to take the hit, and if it's not you, it's whoever is behind you.") Right now the nice old lady who was being mugged is a step behind Miles, and if he dodges it, it'll hit her, and she's far less durable than him. So he stalls, a second, then two GO LEFT his spidey sense screams as the echoing bang rings out, and a distinct red and blue suit hits the ground in front of Miles.
The mugger is already turning and running when Miles reacts, shooting webs to stick the man's hands to the wall and the gun to the ground where it landed when the man panicked. The old lady is calling the cops, and Miles is pulling Peter up onto a rooftop, and his ears are ringing because Peter hasn't moved, and there's a sticky red liquid leaking from a hole in the shoulder of the suit, and-
Breath.
He pauses, his hands shaking. He focuses on taking deep breaths the way Peter taught him- (Peter who is bleeding, Peter, who jumped in front of the bullet, Peter, who is dying-) He listens to the rhythmic thrum of Peter's hummingbird heartbeat; he can hear the sinews of his muscles already working to repair the damage. Miles needs to call someone; the bullet is still lodged in there, and if Miles doesn't get it out, it'll have to be reopened. (Miles can do that- he's got a spider phone. Peter told him what to do in an emergency)
He thumbs through the contacts on the phone until he finds one with a gold star marking it as a favorite; he'd never called it before. The contact name just says 'Weasel'. ("Here, see the one that says Weasel? He's my emergency contact; if something happens to me, you call and tell him.")
It rings twice before a click, and a man's sleazy voice calls out. "Who's this, and what do you want?"
Miles hesitates, unsure of what exactly to say.
"Who is this?" Weasel is in a loud place; there's shouting and loud stomps of people moving around him.
"Uh hello, I was told to call you if something happened to Pete- Spider- uh."
"You must be Stoat then, the kid he's been hauling around lately. How's Mink? What happened?" The man's walking; Miles can hear his steps. When he's finished talking, there's a click of a door shutting, and the background noise is muted.
"Stoat? Right, he was shot? There was a mugger, and he was going to shoot me, and the old lady was behind me, and- and-"
"And Mink took the bullet, because of course he did. Where I am, we don't use real names, so you're Stoat. He's Mink. I'm Weasel. I'm tracking him right now; you're not far. I'll send Deadpool over with a change of clothes, and he'll bring him home. You can come in civvies or go home; I can handle it from here." He hears another voice in the background, one that makes his spidey sense thrum absently. ("You have need of my services, my dear Wheezy?" "Yeah. Mink took a bullet; I need you to go get him. If there's a kid with him, you can lead him back too." The voice gasps. "Someone shot my petey-pie? I'll kill them." "No, fuck off, Wade. I need you to go get him so we don't have to cut him open to get the bullet.")
"Yeah- yeah I'll come with you. I have clothes I can change into. I got the bleeding to stop with some webbing- I don't have any dissolver on hand."
"I have some. Good job, kid."
---
Following the black- and red-suited mercenary to a bar down the street is a task and a half. ("Ohemgee!! You're Kid-Arachnid!" Dangerous)
When they arrive, Deadpool carries a now unsuited Peter in the front doors; Miles, ducking in behind him, gets lost in the crowd of people shouting about Mink. The greasy man behind the bar is already moving through the crowd and parting it so Deadpool can slip into a back room behind the bar.
Miles isn't sure what he's doing here now that Peter and Deadpool are out of sight; the greasy barman is gone too. He makes it halfway to the bar before a giant man with long red hair and white streaks steps in his way, looking down at Miles like he was a piece of gum on his shoe.
Danger. These guys are mercenaries.
"And who exactly are you, little man? You get lost on your way home from kindergarten?" The man's voice is high-pitched, hilariously so for the man's size.
"Oh, um, I came here with Deadpool, and he, uh-" Miles doesn't get to finish his sentence before the man is stepping forward into his space.
"What's your name, little man?"
HE'S GONNA TOUCH YOU-
Miles freezes, trying to take a step back away from the man's rancid breath. "Uh, my name's-" "Stoat." Comes the sleazy voice from the spider phone, except now it's from the greasy man who was behind the bar, and he's stepping between Miles and the red-haired mercenary.
"He one of yours, Weasel?" The man pushes on, but he takes a step back as Weasel steps towards him. Weasel does a loop around Miles's front and ends on his side, draping an arm over Miles's shoulder. Miles is almost two heads shorter than the greasy man and is easily tucked into his side. (The low hum of his spidey sense from just being in the bar dies down, disappearing almost entirely. Miles tries not to relax just from this.)
Miles can hear a group of mercenaries arguing nearby, ("Tha the fuck's a stout?" "Clearly issa small child, Axe." "Yer both idiots. A stoat's a small weasel." "Innit that a ferret?" "Nah, ferrets are bigger." "Whaaat?") But most of the bar is silent as Weasel stares down the big man.
"He's Mink's. Mink is mine, so that makes Stout mine too." Weasel sounds angry; the last of the mercenaries around them fall quiet as they shuffle to get a good view.
"Saw Mink get carried in all hurt-like. Wanted to know if Stout here was the reason." The man's arms come wide, he's shrugging, a hint of something tense in his nonchalant voice.
"Mink took a bullet for Stout, Rooster. You'll be taking the next one if you don't get the hell out of my face right now." Weasel relaxes as the large man- Rooster apparently- scrambles to get out of sight.
The crowd parts out of Weasel's way as he leads Miles through the room and into the backroom where Peter had been taken. It led to an apartment where Deadpool was drinking a beer and playing Candy Crush on the couch.
Peter was asleep on a bed with his shoulder bandaged up. Weasel had led Miles straight to him so he could see he's okay.
"See, Mink's just fine. You can stay the night if it'll make you feel better; he won't wake up till morning atleast." Weasel pauses, seeming much less sure of himself as he rubs the back of his neck. "It'd make him feel better to see you're still in one piece when he wakes up."
Miles smiles and nods, but before he can answer, Deadpool's voice calls from the other room. "Weasel! Stop mother-henning your husband! He's not dying or dead! I'm not managing the bar for you because last time you got mad at me!"
Weasel turned and rushed out of the room, already shouting in response. "That's because you gave away a bunch of free alcohol, you asshole!"
Miles smiles as he sits in the chair beside the bed, listening to the hummingbird thrum of Peter's heart, now steady once more, and the sounds of chaos from the bar below.