#12--April 25, 2019
Getting stabbed sucks, a lot
“Peter, it appears that you have been stabbed," Karen informs him, sounding concerned.
Peter muffles a groan as he presses his hands against his bleeding wound, biting his lip as a spark of pain shoots through his side. He presses his back against the alley wall, spraying a web over the wound to hold it together. Once he had run out of bandages, and with nothing else to use and not wanting to worry Aunt May, Peter had used the web to staunch his bleeding until the wound healed a day later. Bruises and small cuts may heal overnight or within a twenty-four hour period, but larger wounds like stabbings and bullet holes take a little longer.
And yes, he had been shot before and yes this isn’t his first time being stabbed.
"Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?” Karen asks when he doesn’t answer her. Peter’s eyes flash open and he jerks up before groaning and leaning against the wall.
“No, I’m good Karen,” Peter says, taking in shallow breaths to avoid any further pain. “I’ll just head back to the Tower.”
“Peter, I don’t believe that it is wise to swing to the Tower in your condition,” Karen tells him, her voice hinting that it’s a warning that he shouldn’t do anything stupid.
Peter just closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall, trying to gain the courage to make his way back to the Tower. Once again, it’s the weekend, and just because he usually spends it at Tower it doesn’t mean that he’s going to skirt on patrol. Even if it does mean swinging all the way back to Queens.
But now? He’s kinda regretting it. It’s close enough to quitting time that hopefully Tony won’t get suspicious when he sees Peter’s logs on the suits and yes he does know that Mr. Stark is having Karen sending him every single second that he’s in the suit.
Breathing out the rest of his nerves, Peter crawls up the building. He’s pretty sure by the way he’s crawling that he’s leaving a bloody trail along the side of the brick building, but he can’t find it in him to care. Once he’s on the top of the roof, he sits down in relief before standing up again and making his way to the edge of the building.
Before he can’t think twice about his very stupid decision, Peter shoots a web to a nearby building and swings off into the night. He cries out sharply as he pulls his body up to the arc, refusing the urge to curl up as his body begins to descend upon the earth once more.
He shoots another web and the next time he pulls up on the swing, he bites his lip to hold in the sound of pain. He grimaces as his side is tugged at again and ignores his trembling arms as he throws himself forward, letting go of the web as he flies through the air.
Peter manages to make it through three more swings before he’s forced to land on a nearby building. He lands roughly on the slightly graveled platform, his body rolling a few times due to the momentum of his swing. He clutches at his side with a sharp inhale as he comes to a stop, a groan following the quick breath.
“Peter, your vitals are dropping. I suggest you call Mr. Stark,” Karen insists once again. Peter just shakes his head a few times, too busy biting his lip to stop any sounds escaping him rather than reply to the AI. “Peter, if you do not return to the Tower within the next five minutes, I am afraid that I must call Mr. Stark.”
That catches his attention. “What!?” Peter says, sitting up sharply before clutching at his side with another muffled sound of pain.
“Protocol ‘Tattletale’ forces me to call Mr. Stark if you do not return to a safe destination ten minutes after being seriously wounded,” Karen informs Peter, making him scoff at the name. “Peter, I suggest you let me call Mr. Stark.”
“I still got five minutes,” Peter grunts out as he pushes himself to his feet. Looking around him, Peter surmises that he’ll get to the Tower with two minutes to spare if he swings at his normal pace. Drowning out his concerned AI’s words, Peter jumps off the building and shoots a web.
His eyes tear up at the pain in his side as he pulls on the web line roughly, throwing himself into the air. It doesn’t take long for him to reach the Tower, though with the pain in his side it felt like years. Peter launches himself at the building, swiftly crawling up it to his bedroom window. Locating the proper window, Peter slides in it, sighing in relief when his feet touch the floor. His relief doesn’t last long, however.
“Calling Tony Stark,” Karen says, making his eyes widen in panic.
“No no no no no no, Karen! I’m at the Tower, don’t call Mr. Stark!” Peter shouts in a panic, but it’s too late.
“Pete, what’s wrong?” Tony’s voice comes through the speakers in his mask. “I thought you were on patrol.”
“I was,” Peter says, “It’s just that it’s quiet tonight so I thought that I’d come back." A few seconds of silence pass and Peter thinks that he’s got away with the lie. Well, it's not a lie, technically. It has been a pretty uneventful night with only two muggings if Peter’s not including getting stabbed.
"Peter…” Tony says, his voice hinting that Peter better tell the truth. “Why do you sound out of breath? And don’t say that it’s because you’ve been swinging all around Queens. I know that your stamina is high enough that a night’s patrol doesn’t make you even slightly out of breath.”
“Uh…" Peter’s heart seizes in panic when he hears footsteps come down the hall and the phone call disconnects.
"Peter, that door better be unlocked when I get there,” Tony says, his footsteps becoming louder as he approaches the door. Peter looks around wildly before spotting the open door to the bathroom. Thinking quickly, he launches himself into the room and closes the door behind him. Peter hears his bedroom door open, followed by Tony’s “Kid?”
“I, um, I’m in the bathroom!” Peter shouts as he presses the spider emblem on his chest, allowing his suit to literally slide off of him. He pulls the mask off and shoves the suit and said mask into the hamper, pressing a hand to his side as the makeshift web bandage is pulled off the wound.
“What’re you doing in the bathroom?” Tony asks from outside the door as Peter scrambles to find a towel, wetting it and holding it to his side. A swift glance shows that it’s still bleeding, though the flow is slowing.
“I’m changing!” Peter shouts back, biting his lip to hold in the whimper as he presses the towel harder against his side.
“You’re changing,” Tony deadpans, making Peter wince because shit Mr. Stark totally knows something’s up.
“That’s usually what one does in the bathroom, right?” Peter asks, opening the doors below the sink and pulling out the first-aid kit.
“And what’s taking you so long to change?” Tony asks. Peter grimaces because Mr. Stark definitely knows that he’s not changing and that he’s hiding something. Before Peter can answer the man, Tony opens the door, freezing at the sight of Peter fiddling with some bandages and gauze in his boxers. Then, his eyes trail down to the bloody wound on his side and his eyes widen.
“Holy shit, kid!” Tony says, rushing forward. “Why didn’t you think to tell me you got stabbed? Did you plan on never letting me figure this out?" Peter winces as Tony pulls the materials from his hands and gestures for him to take a seat on the sink.
"You’re angry,” Peter murmurs as he does as told.
“Damn right I’m angry!” Tony burst out, grabbing a clean rag and wetting it before wiping the blood off of Peter’s side. “You didn’t tell me that you got hurt. You need to tell me these things, kid." Peter hands his head and watches silently as Tony gently wipes the blood off of him.
"I’m sorry,” he whispers after a few moments. “I didn’t want to bother you. And besides, it’ll be fully healed in a few days." Tony stiffens and Peter knows that he said the wrong thing when the man looks up at him with sharp eyes.
"It doesn’t matter that it’ll heal in a few days, Peter,” Tony says sternly, grabbing a few antiseptic wipes from the kit. Peter tenses as his wound flares in pain, tightening his grip on the sink as Tony murmurs a quick apology. “You got hurt and you’re my responsibility. And I care about you, kid. You can’t keep hiding these things from me, especially when it involves a semi-serious wound like this.”
They’re silent while Tony finishes patching up his wound. Peter’s eyes watch Tony’s hands as he packs away the first aid supplies. Peter jumps down from the sink so the man can put the kit under the sink where it belongs. “I’m sorry,” Peter murmurs after a few moments.
Tony sighs. “I know you are, kid,” he says, clapping his hands. “Now, tell me where your suit is." Sheepishly, Peter pulls the bloody suit from the hamper, holding it out for his mentor to take. Tony just raises an eyebrow.
"We’ll fix this tomorrow,” Tony says, making his way to the door. “See you tomorrow, Pete.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, making his way to his closet to pull some clothes on. Tony turns around and meets Peter’s eyes, his own softening.
“Goodnight, Peter." At that, the man walks out of the room, suit and mask in hand.