peter parker
“Peter? Are you home?” MJ called into a seemingly empty apartment.
“In the bathroom!” Peter replied.
“Everything alright?” she said as she walked towards the bathroom.
“Yeah! Just a slight accident when on patrol, maybe don’t come in th-”
“Peter!” she whisper-shouted. He was sitting on the toilet lid, blood seeping through his shirt and onto his fingers. He had a cut on his forehead, and bruises everywhere.
“What happened? You need to apply pressure, now,” she said, ripping off her jacket and bunching it up, "take your shirt off,”
“Damn, I didn’t know we were at that stage,” Peter slurred worryingly, and started to take his shirt off. MJ put her jacket on the floor, and helped him with his shirt. She picked the jacket back up and pressed it hard against what seemed to be the site of the wound. Peter groaned in pain.
“I know, darling, I know. Shh, you’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve gotta take you to the hospital, love, I c-”
“No hospital,” Peter said clearly, his eyes begging, “They’ll call May and Stark,”
“Peter…” she trailed off, “I’m not qualified for this. I can’t- Peter, please. I don’t want you to die because I don’t know proper first aid,”
“You’ll do fine, MJ. Just please, please, no hospital,”
She sighed, and peeled her jacket off of the wound to get a good look at it. It didn’t look too deep, she conceded.
“Alright, Peter, but this is gonna hurt. Bad,”
“S’okay,”
She started by getting a wet paper towel and cleaning off the wound. Then, she grabbed the antiseptic and carefully wiped the site with it. She gently narrated what she was doing, and asked easy questions to keep Peter awake and attentive.
“Peter, this might need stitches… I’d feel more comfortable going to a hospital,”
“‘m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do, MJ. This would be a really fantastic time to tell me that one of your parents is a doctor,” he joked.
“They’re not,” she said, coldly, “I can’t- I’m not a triage nurse, Peter, I can’t tell if you’re going to die if I pick the wrong option,”
“I trust you,”
MJ quickly took out her phone and googled “stitches or a bandage”. It told her that if the wound kept bleeding after five minutes of pressure, it needed stitches. She looked back at the wound, and it had mostly stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief, and grabbed a huge bandage from underneath the sink.
“This is gonna hurt,” she said as she tightly stuck the bandage to his abdomen. He groaned slightly, and she felt a pang of guilt. She began to clean off his head wound, carefully applying a butterfly bandage to his head. She made him drink some water, take an Advil, and sent him to bed. She stayed in a chair next to his bedside all night, watching for any signs of anything disastrous.
The next morning, he woke up to a chocolate sprinkle donut, water, two Advil, two local doctor’s phone numbers, and a note that read:
Peter,
Please, call one of the doctors. They’re both discreet. One is a man, the other is a woman. I wasn’t sure what you’d feel most comfortable with. Take two days off of school, and I’ll bring you your homework and some dinner.
Love you,
MJ