Patrols didn’t usually end like this.
Sure, small lacerations or broken bones were pretty normal in his line of work, but this was the first time he’d been straight up stabbed. He was surprised he’d made it this far.
Well, cross that off the bucket list…
——
It had been a pretty normal patrol. Helping people across the street, saving dogs from getting hit, it was fine… Peter didn’t want bad things to happen, but it definitely would be more interesting. So when he saw a man attempting to mug a lady in an alley, he was almost excited.
“Hey dude, come on, didn’t your mom ever teach you some manners? No?” He landed on the ground, narrowing his eyes at the guy.
“Shut up!” The dude sounded agitated, amusing Peter. The man had shifted his attention, giving the woman the opportunity to run. The man thought about chasing her for a second, but decided to settle for Peter. Then he caught a glimpse of the knife he was holding.
It had a 6-inch long blade, and the metal had some sort of marbling to it that Peter had only seen on fancy kitchen knives. The top of the blade had little sections cut out to give it a geometric pattern. The handle fit in his hand perfectly, and Peter could see some purple marbling and small orange details.
“Wait, is that… is that a custom knife? You really got a custom knife to mug people? I’m kinda impressed.” Peter laughed, shaking his head. The guy practically growled, but Peter could see some insecurity and embarrassment behind it.
Bingo.
“I gotta hand it to you man, that’s a pretty awesome knife. I wonder if I could see it for a second?” Peter tilted his head, and the man glared at him. His lips pulled back in a snarl.
“No? Aw, come on man, pretty please?” Peter clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelids. The guy was pissed at him. Peter knew that he could easily take the man's knife, so easily, but he was enjoying himself for the first time that night.
“Better shut up, spidey, or you’ll get very familiar with this knife.”
“Ooh! I see you’ve thought of a comeback! I’m proud.” Peter grinned. Messing with this guy was too much fun.
“Watch it. This is your last warning.”
“Oh, I’m so scared! You’ve rendered me defenseless!” The man raised the knife at that comment. It was too easy to annoy him.
“Please! Don’t hurt me! I beg of you! Please let me live, I’ll do anything!” Peter dropped to his knees, shaking his clasped hands as he mocked begging him.
“Enough of the theatrics. Just let me go, and I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re too kind.” Peter stood up, rolling his eyes. He was getting slightly less amused with this guy.
Just restrain the guy, call the police, and call it a night.
“Is the handle super comfortable? I bet that thing is super sharp! I wonder how much you paid—“
His spidey sense buzzed for the first time since seeing the man. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a notification.
Message from unknown:
Hey Peter. It’s MJ. Is this the right number? For all I know I could be texting some guy named John. Sorry, John.
He had mustered all of his courage to give MJ his number that afternoon, and had been furiously checking his phone ever since. He had told Karen to alert him if he got a text from someone he didn’t know, and she had teased him, ‘That’s very cute, Peter.’
His heart stopped as he read it, his attention completely diverted. But his spidey sense still buzzed.
He was so shocked by the text that he missed the knife plunging into his abdomen.
Well… shit.
Pain seared through his body, and he could barely breath for fear of it hurting. He could feel the knife inside of him. All six inches of it.
Peter’s eyes widened in shock. “Did you—did you just throw that knife?”
“I… I…” The guy knew he was in for it, and almost looked surprised that he had done it.
“Man, I was right, it is super sharp…” Peter felt dizzy as blood seeped from him, and he resisted the urge to pull it out. Mr. Stark had told him never to do that.
“I didn’t mean to—I just… It was an accident!”
Peter scoffed, trying to stay calm. “Sure buddy. Do you want this back, or can I keep it?”
“Well, uh…”
“Actually, I don’t think you’ll need this where you’re going. Finders keepers, I guess.” He shot a web to stick the man to the wall, trying to think of his next move.
He definitely couldn’t go to May, she’d absolutely freak. Well, anyone he goes to would freak out. But May would take away his Spider-Man privileges out of fear, and he couldn’t handle that. There was only one other person he knew that could help him.
————
Tony heard a crash from somewhere in the building, causing his hands to shake and ignite a spark in the wires he was working with.
“Shit! Dum-E, don’t even think about it… FRIDAY, what on earth was that?”
“It seems Mr. Parker has decided to enter the building through the window down the hall. A rather unconventional choice, but effective nonetheless.”
Tony gets up quickly, muttering a string of curses before finding Peter sprawled out in a pile of glass and blood, a bloody knife in his hand.
“Oh hey, Mr. Stark. Sorry about the mess, don’t worry, I’ve got this covered...” The eyes on Peter’s suit drifted shut as his head dropped onto the floor.
“Kid? Kid! Peter! Come on kiddo, you’ve gotta wake up.”
Seeing the bloody knife in Peter’s hand, Tony’s mind first jumped to self harm. He was immediately repulsed that he would ever think that. Peter was so happy. And he was wearing his suit, so Tony was willing to bet this was someone else’s doing.
“FRIDAY, what are his vitals?” He rushed to Peter’s side.
“The knife entered but did not exit his body, thankfully missing any vital organs.” A tiny bit of the weight on his shoulders was relieved, but he was still convinced he was on the verge of a heart attack. He lifted Peter away from the glass and onto his back.
“He is losing blood rapidly. You do not have time to get him to the med bay.” His heart picked up speed at those words.
“Well, what do you suggest I do? I’m sure as hell not losing this kid!” He removed Peter’s mask, and sure enough he was unconscious. His lips were slightly parted, and some of his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat.
He heard a distant whirring, his head whipping around.
Could this day get any more stressful?!
He saw the arm of one of his suits flying towards him, and he reached his hand out instinctually for it to cover.
At first he was very confused. Why on earth would FRIDAY give him part of his suit? Then he realized.
“What—Oh, no. No, no, no. There’s got to be another way.”
Tony had installed a cauterization feature into his suit a while back, set to cauterize in small bursts to avoid burning the skin too bad. But he had absolutely no intention of ever using it. Especiallynot on Peter.
“Sir, compression and elevation would be ineffective at this point, and stitches will take too long. This will give you time to get him to the med bay. I’m alerting them of the situation now.”
Tony looked at the almost peaceful Peter, imagining how his face would contort if he used it. He hated himself for considering causing Peter that much pain.
But it’s the only way to help him.
It went against every fiber of his being, but he put the gauntlet against Peter’s wound. And as if the situation wasn’t heartbreaking enough, Peter decided to join Tony.
“Mmm… h’y, Mr. St’rk… why you so… sad? You ok’y?” His eyes were open slightly, looking up at Tony with nothing but trust and affection. Tony scoffed at Peter’s concern about him, trying to stay calm. Tony ripped the suit away from Peter’s wound, and then ripped the bottom of his shirt off.
“Aw… L’k’d th’t sh’rt, Mr. St’rk…” Tony laughed shakily, finding the piece of cloth.
“Hey Pete, I need you to bite down on this. You can do that for me, yeah?”
“S’re…”
Peter didn’t question anything Tony was doing. He completely and blindly trusted Tony, and it was killing him.
“Okay, Pete, here goes nothing.” He pressed the glove onto Peter’s wound, making Peter’s eyes widen. His brows furrowed in confusion but were no less trusting.
Tony’s hands shook.
I can’t actually be doing this.
His instincts were screaming at him as he activated the protocol. Peter’s eyes widened further, before squeezing shut. He writhed underneath Tony’s hand, his hands clawing at the gauntlet. His eyes shot open to stare at Tony.
“Mr. St’rk!” Peter panted, his eyes overflowing with tears, and the piece of cloth forgotten as his mouth opened in a strangled scream.
Stop, dammit! Tony begged himself internally.
It took all of Tony’s willpower to keep his hand there. All of his instincts were shouting at him to stop, that he was hurting his kid.
“Mr. St’rk! Stop! Mr. St’rk!” Peter wasn’t the only one crying now, but Tony knew he couldn’t stop. It had to be almost done. Peter squirmed and screamed as hands slightly dented the gauntlet in attempts to get it off. Tony knew that Peter’s struggles would leave bruises, but he didn’t give a single shit.
“Mr. St’rk!”
Stop. Stop. Stop!
“Tony!!”
Tony’s heart stopped. He had never heard Peter call him anything but Mr. Stark before. He had hated being called Mr. Stark, it made him feel old, but this was far worse. Peter’s voice was hoarse from his screams, and his voice sounded so desperate.
More tears were streaming down Tony’s face than he’d like to admit, but he couldn’t stop. Not when they were so close.
“Please… stop ‘t… please…” Peter’s hands that were scratching at his gauntlet dropped to the floor, his head lolling to the side.
The cauterization was finally done, and left Tony staring down at his blood covered hands.
Peter’s blood. It was Peter’s blood on his hands.
His eyes wandered to Peter’s bloody suit, his pale face. He didn’t look nearly as peaceful now, his features somewhat clenched.
He barely heard the ding of the elevator and the rush of the medical staff over the thrum of his heart in his ears. They carefully lifted Peter, but he couldn’t do anything but stare at his hands. The sounds of Peter’s screams returned to him, but Peter was already gone.
Why do I still hear his screams?
“-ir? Sir, can you hear me?” He looked up at one of the medical employees trying to get his attention.
“Sorry… I just… sorry.” He pulled himself out of his head, trying to ignore the memories flooding him.
“It’s fine, sir. I suggest you go and wash up… get away from here for a moment. I’ll make sure that the mess is taken care of. Trust me, you’ll feel better when you’re cleaned off. We’ll keep you updated on Peter’s status, I assume you want to be there when he wakes up, yes?”
Tony could only offer a slight nod, his eyes drifting to the blood that was starting to dry on the floor. He pulled his eyes back to her.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good.” His eyes drifted back to the sticky blood on his hands.
“Here, let me help you.” She pulled him off the floor, leading him to the elevator. He barely registered getting to his floor, to his room, lost in his thoughts.
You made him scream like that.
———
“Nnhg…”
Peter’s mind slowly started to wake up.
Lights. Beeping. Soft sheets.
Peter had woken up in the med bay enough times to know that’s what was happening. The telltale sign to Peter was the sheets. Once Mr. Stark learned about Peter’s incredibly enhanced senses, he had customized everywhere Peter used in the tower. Dimmed lights, soundproof walls, and the softest sheets money could buy were some of these features.
He cracked his eyes open, taking a second for the blurriness to clear. As soon as it did, he propped himself up on his elbows.
His stomach stung sharply when he moved, but it could have been much worse. He lifted up the shirt he had been changed into to look at the damage.
I can work with that.
His healing factor had been working overtime when he was asleep, and the injury looked very manageable. Memories flooded him.
Oh god, I crashed into the window, didn’t I?
He massaged his temples, groaning as he remembered parts of last night. It all grew hazy, but he vividly remembered… Ironman punching his stomach? That couldn’t be right. He must have imagined that.
“Hey, Pete.” Mr. Stark walked in hurriedly, sitting on a chair next to Peter’s bed. He was fidgeting with his hands, visibly worried.
“What happened this time?” Dull, hazy memories floated back slowly, but Peter wasn’t patient enough to wait for the full picture.
“Well, I was kind of hoping you would tell me that... All I know is that you crashed through my window with a stab wound. Flawless plan, by the way.” Peter huffed. So that did happen. Guilt flooded his mind, even though he knew Mr. Stark wouldn’t mind replacing a window.
“I’m sorry. Really, Mr. Stark… what if I actually give you a heart attack one day?”
“Hey, I’m not that old.” Mr. Stark narrowed his eyes at Peter, causing him to laugh. He winced, his laughter ending abruptly. He had almost forgotten about his injury.
Concern flooded Mr. Stark’s eyes. He reached forward to comfort Peter, and Peter did something he never expected he would do. He flinched.
Memories hit Peter in a split second. Those same hands pressing into his bleeding stomach, pinning him down. Hurting him. Burning him. His spidey sense spiked, causing Peter to jerk away from the hands that he had always trusted.
The hands that mercilessly hurt him.
He was immediately disgusted in himself. How could he think for even a second that Mr. Stark would hurt him? Peter put two and two together, realizing Mr. Stark was probably cauterizing his wound the other night. Memories came back, slightly clearer this time.
“Mr. St’rk! Stop! Mr. St’rk! Mr. St’rk! Tony!!”
He had begged Mr. Stark to stop, but he didn’t.
He tortured you.
Because he had to! Peter argued with himself.
“I… I’m sorry…” Tears welled in Peter’s eyes.
“Nope, don’t you dare apologize. I wouldn’t blame you if you were scared of me, after… after what I did.” Mr. Stark’s gaze fell.
“No, no… No, I’m not scared of you, Mr. Stark. My senses were just a little on edge, you know? I trust you.” Peter smothered all of his fears. How could he be afraid of the one man who would do anything to help him? He hated himself for being afraid for even a moment.
“I’m glad, Pete.” Mr. Stark gave an encouraging smile.
Peter noticed a few small bruises on Tony’s hands, in the shape of fingers… a wave of guilt hit him.
“Did I… did I bruise you?”
“Yes, and I burned you. Your point?” Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
The awkward silence that they never experienced plagued the air. Peter didn’t know what to say that would reassure Mr. Stark that he was fine.
“So, hypothetical question… if a certain spiderling was to show up with a custom knife, priced at around 600 dollars if I’m correct… and the knife was stabbed into his stomach, why would that have happened? Asking for a friend.” Tony spoke up.
Peter scoffed. “Well… muggers in Queens take their knives very seriously. I’m glad they do, I won’t be seen with just any knife in my stomach.” Peter rolled his eyes, causing Mr. Stark to laugh.
“This really is a piece of work, though.” Peter’s eyes widened at the knife that Mr. Stark had pulled out, the purple and orange marbling instantly recognizable. He reached for it, only for Mr. Stark to move it out of his reach.
“Ah-ah, why would Spider-Kid want a knife?”
“Spider-Man. And it’s rightfully mine. I got stabbed for that knife. Finders keepers, right?” Peter reached for it again, Mr. Stark letting him have it with a chuckle.
“So, why did you get stabbed in the first place? Don’t you have that Peter tingle—“
“Spidey sense.” Peter corrected.
“Yeah, that? Was it just taking a day off or something?”
Well, shit. Peter had forgotten that MJ had texted him.
It’s been a day! What if she thinks that I don’t care, or… or… that I hate her or something?! What am I gonna say?
Peter’s mind whirred, blood rushing to his cheeks.
“I… I guess it was taking a day off. Weird, right?” Peter started fiddling with the hem of his shirt subconsciously, stopping as soon as he noticed himself doing it. Mr. Stark knew that was a nervous habit of his.
“You’re a terrible liar. What really happened?”
Peter cursed himself, blushing more.
“Well… MJ might have texted me, but it’s not that important…” He rubbed the back of his neck, dreading Mr. Stark’s reaction.
“You got stabbed because your girlfriend texted you?!” Mr. Stark burst into laughter, and Peter dropped his head into his hands.
“Shut up. And she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yet, kiddo. Not yet. How could she resist those baby cheeks of yours?”
“Shut up, idiot.”
Mr. Stark was hysterical, and Peter couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh, getting brave, are we?” They were both losing it laughing at this point. Peter didn’t even care about the pain in his stomach, the situation was too hilarious.
“Boss, May Parker is currently calling you.” FRIDAY said, almost apologetically. They both stopped laughing abruptly.
Oh, dear God…
“You didn’t tell her?!” Mr. Stark shouted, not angry but severely afraid.
“I thought you would!!” Peter shot back.
“She is requesting to push the call if you do not pick up.”
They stared at each other, both knowing that they were totally screwed. It was a split second, before Mr. Stark shot out of his seat and rushed out of the room.
“Hey! Get back here!!”
“You’re on your own, kid!!” Mr. Stark ran from the room.
“Hello?! Peter, where the hell are you?!” May’s furious voice flooded the room.
Well, I’ve lived a good life.
“Peter, if you got hurt again and didn’t tell me, I swear to God!!”
“You’re dead to me, Stark!!” Peter shouted, his enhanced hearing picking up Mr. Stark’s booming laughter as he fled the scene.