Whumptober Prompt Stories

To be brutally honest, Peter would rather have spent his Friday night… Saturday morning? He didn’t know for sure but one of the two, he would rather have spent them at home, or in the lab with Mister Stark.

He almost made it the entire week without getting in trouble, so close. His class had taken a mandatory trip to Canada, something about the opportunity to tour the newest science facilities or something in that nature, him and Ned had been too busy excitedly chatting to each other. When the trip was announced, Peter hadn’t thought in a thousand years that all he would be wishing for was curling up at home or at the compound with a cup of hot chocolate. But then again, here he was, stumbling through the snow and refusing to look back at the bloody trail he was surely leaving behind him.

Friday morning the class had left the hotel bundled in warm clothing to visit some museum, but of course, of course Hydra would have a facility in Canada. And of course, being Spider-Man, he would slip out of the group and follow the men with the freaky octopus tattoos to their van parked outside. Of course, he would get himself knocked out and thrown into the van… Before he passed out he blandly thought that ‘Mister Stark was going to be so pissed.’

The men must have thought he wasn’t much of a threat because they didn’t bother restraining him, and they really didn’t think about him waking up and kicking the door off the back of the van. Luckily for Peter, apparently, they were smart enough to open fire while he blindly stumbled off the road and into the snowy treeline. It wasn’t really all that lucky, because they weren’t horrible shots lie he had hoped, and two of them managed to clip him in the shoulder and thigh before they were out of rage and he was falling against a tree and breathing heavily.

“Ow, ow, ow, shit!” He yelped as he peeled back his jacket, t-shirt and undershirt to check on the wound. He didn’t have his phone, he didn’t have his suit and he was miles away from anyone who could help, stranded in the snow on the radar of Hydra agents with guns. How had he even managed to mess up his day this badly? “Ughhh Mister Stark is never gonna let me hear the end of this,” he complained as he pulled his jacket tight against his body and began to limp further into the trees. His fingers were freezing so he pulled them up into his sleeves and forced his sleeves into his pockets, wishing he could do more for the snow leaking into his shoes. His face burnt in the wind and his lips were cracked and dry after the first five minutes. His leg screamed when he put too much weight on it and his shoulder was aching more than anything, but at least the blood was at least slightly warm. That was an incredibly grim outlook, even though it sounded positive.

He wasn’t familiar enough with first aid to know whether or not the snow would help his wounds, but he did know he needed to find help soon unless he wanted to either freeze or pass out. He wasn’t going to bleed out, the bullets hadn’t hit anything vital and he healed quickly, it was more the issue of getting the bullets out from where they were still inside him, god it hurt. After ten minutes of wandering he slowed from a stumbling jog to a walk, preying the Hydra agents weren’t catching up to him. He can’t believe he left his phone back at the hotel, he should have just worn his suit underneath his clothes and used the heater at the museum. He pressed his hands against his thigh and tried to staunch the blood that was still sluggishly dripping down his leg. When he peeled his hands away they were soaked in crimson, and he turned in a clumsy circle to see that every few metres there was a tiny puddle of red that trailed out from where he had come from and disappeared into the wintery view. “Shit, not good, really not good.”

He tugged of his beanie and scrunched his nose up when his ears immediately complained with the cold. He used the hole the bullet had left in his pant leg and ripped it further open, shoving the beanie inside and knotting the edges of fabric back together so they held the makeshift bandage in place. Now for his shoulder, he pulled his arm along the inside of his jacket sleeve and tucked it up against his chest, still inside his clothing so that the sleeve hung and made it look like he was missing an arm. He rolled it up and wrapped it around his shoulder and held his opposite hand against the wound, biting his tongue as the pain flared up momentarily. He needed to find help or some sort of shelter from the harsh climate that had already drenched most of him with the falling snow. His best bet was to follow the road back to where there were homes or any kind of structure, but he worried about the van and the men who took him. He forced his enhanced hearing to work over the howl of the wind, and he couldn’t hear anything apart from the rustle of branches against branches and the pitter patter of snow touching the bark of tree trunks.

It was incredibly risky to turn back now but the only way he would find any help would be following that road. He kept an eye on the trail of blood he had left, staying to the left side and a couple tree lengths away so if anyone was following him, he would be able to duck behind a log and hide before they saw him. It took almost twenty minutes before he could see the outline of the road in the distance, and he came to a stop, still holding his shoulder but searching for any sight of the van. Nothing appeared, no footprints, none of the men, no gunshots or yelling, so he decided to risk it and stay at the edges of the treeline but begin to follow the road back the way the van had come.

It was uncomfortable to say the least, his socks squelched with the melted snow filling his shoes, the wind was blowing directly into his face and little flakes of snow pelted his bare neck and made him tuck his head down to his chest. His lips were wind burnt, nose and cheeks pink from the cold while his hair was beginning to curl up and frizz in the wind. If Tony had been with Peter, he would have ruffled the curls playfully and made a joke while the teen pretended to be annoyed.

They were traveling back to New York on Saturday, and Peter made plans to go to the lab on Sunday. Dread filled him suddenly, and he realised if he didn’t make it back to the hotel or museum the class could very well leave without him and he would truly be stuck in Canada with no suit, no phone, no money and no way to alert Tony of his predicament. He pushed himself to walk faster, avoiding the trees and winding through them, constantly looking back up at the road and listening out for any cars.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been before he heard it, but the roar of a quickly approaching vehicle had him stumbling behind a thick tree trunk as soon as he saw the outline of a van. He breathed heavily and pressed his back up against the bark, staying as motionless as possible. The van was driving slowly, staying to the side of the road as if looking for something, for him.

“What if he’s still back that way and just covered up his wounds to stop bleeding, we should have just kept walking the same direction as the trail!” He could hear people arguing in the driver’s side, yelling about where he could have hidden, snapping over the way he would have ran.

“What if he just passed out behind a tree right by where the blood stopped, and we just missed him?” He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut as the van drove by the tree he was hidden behind. ‘Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, please don’t stop.’ He repeated in his head, silently preying they would keep driving straight past him.

“This isn’t a ‘what if’ game, okay? We’ll circle back and check the blood again, so you shut up before it’s buried by more snow, but then we’re doing it my way and you keep quiet, got it?” The man must have gotten a nod because he slammed on the breaks and the screech of the tyres told Peter he was making an illegal U-turn and driving back to where he had dripped blood. He stayed behind the tree for ten minutes, not daring to move until he was completely certain they were far enough away for him to make his next move. When he did shift from the tree, he looked out across the road nervously and told himself he needed to do it.

The men wouldn’t expect him to cross the road and hide in the trees on the opposite side, they had only seen him run to the right, they wouldn’t check the left. He put a foot on the tar covered stones and braced himself to dash across, they wouldn’t be coming back for another twenty minutes at least, but he still willed his teeth to stop chattering as he ran. His feet slid slightly over a patch of ice of the far side, but he didn’t fall, only faltering when he saw the ditch that separated the road and the trees. He slid down, tripping over some loose roots and yelping as his thigh screamed in protest.

“Shit!” He gasped as his foot splashed down into a puddle of freezing water and he threw his arms out wildly, loosing his balance as his arm pinned to his side from inside the jacket. He fell, twisting at the last second so his bad shoulder didn’t land in the icy water and grunting as he thudded into the snow and dirt. “G – g – god that’s c – cold,” he murmured to himself as his teeth clicked together relentlessly and he pulled himself up, biting back another yelp as his thigh began to bleed lazily again. His lips were beginning to tint blue, but he shuffled into the treeline and rested his forehead against a tree, taking a moment to catch his breath and reposition the sleeve closer against his shoulder.

He hoped Ned had noticed he was missing by now and the teachers were looking for him, maybe they’d even call May and she’d get Tony involved. Walking forward through the hazy snowfall again, he imagined the Iron Man armour landing before him and Tony melting out, scolding him without real anger and flying him back to warmth. It was so cold, everything was aching, and it was an incredible effort to even flex his fingers. His nose felt numb by now and even when he paused to bury his face into his neck the feeling of it made him shiver even more violently. He was half tempted to put his beanie back on now that it didn’t really matter about the blood considering the Hydra men weren’t checking this side of the road, but it was already soaked through and it wasn’t a very enticing thought to put a bloody hat on. He grew more and more tired the further he stumbled down beside the road, and it vaguely registered in his exhausted head that when he stopped shivering it was probably a bad sign.

After was must have been at least another hour of walking his legs finally gave out. He collapsed into the snow and had just enough energy and common sense left to roll down into the ditch where the ground was more dirt than snow. He turned onto his side and tucked his knees up into his jacket, pulling both of his arms inside despite how it strained his shoulder and made him wince. Each puff of air was visible in the cool air and he remembered as a child he would run around blowing into the wind and imagining flames licking out of his mouth with smoke. The irony of how much he would love fire right now wasn’t lost on him, but the possibility of him passing out did linger in the forefront of his mind. He willed himself to crawl forward, but his limbs weren’t cooperating, and it was too much of a relief to finally lie on the ground and curl into himself. He groaned loudly, without care for any of the men hearing him, they were long gone, they had sped of what felt like hours ago and hadn’t been back since. Maybe kicking down the door of the van and running into the freezing climate wasn’t the best idea but being driven to a Hydra facility didn’t sound like much fun either.

Peter thought about how exhausted he felt and how amazing sleep sounded right now, but then he thought about May and Ned, even Tony who he had grown so much closer to recently. His mentor was getting better at the whole physical contact thing, he ruffled Peter’s hair occasionally and threw his arm around his shoulders casually when he was proud of the boy, but they still hadn’t hugged. Peter didn’t mind, he was patient and really content with the time they spent together in the lab, over the break he had even started to stay the night in his own room at the compound every now and then. Tony cared about him, Peter still left him voicemail reports when he finished patrol, and sometimes the mechanic would reference something he mentioned in one of them, so Peter knew he actually listened to a few of them.

Little did Peter know, but Tony listened to every one of them with a fond smile. After Germany and the Vulture, he had put more effort into the whole mentoring situation, working with Peter in the lab proved useful as the kid could keep up with him easily. Peter was even getting some training done on the days he would stay the night at the compound, making new web fluids in the lab then using the training room to practice swinging around with them. Every so often, Tony would get a notification from Karen saying Peter was injured, or out past curfew, or in some need of assistance, and every time he would fly over to the location, get him out of trouble, ruffle his hair and send him back home to sleep it off. He wouldn’t deny the cold feeling of fear that gripped his heart when the injury report would flash up at random times at night and he jumped to his suit, breathing heavy and worrying intensively the entire flight.

It was freezing, but Peter didn’t shiver any more, he did close his eyes and lay his head against the dirt, whispering silent apologies for falling asleep into the air, his words being whipped away by the wind as his lashes fluttered shut and his body fell lax with sleep.

----

“F.R.I? What time did Peter get back to New York again?” He pried the casing off the front of the armour’s chest, fiddling around with some wiring while he waited for her response.

“Mister Parker was due to get home on Saturday afternoon, he has not yet called to confirm he arrived safely as you asked him to before he left.” He frowned slightly and soldered two wires together lazily, blowing on the finished product and pressing the chest plate back on half-heartedly.

“That’s fine, he’s forgetful. What time is it?” He was honestly unsure whether it was Saturday night or Sunday morning, considering his sleep schedule was so thrown off it wasn’t unusual.

“It is six thirty-four am, Sunday morning. Mister Parker is due to arrive at the lab in approximately two hours.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, he needed more coffee, and an energetic kid chatting his ear off to keep him awake.

“M’kay, thanks F.R.I, lemme know when he shows up and buzz him in.” He downed some more caffeine and delved back into his work, getting grease on his hands and wiping them on an old rag until he grew bored and flipped over to the next project. He was in the middle of a repulsor strength test when the A.I interrupted him.

“Sir, there is an incoming call from May Parker.” He de attached the arm and laid it on his desk to the side, flopping down into a desk chair and waving to answer.

“Is Peter with you?” May’s voice was urgent, she seemed frantic and he could hear her slightly increased breathing. He glanced to his watch, it was nearly ten, Peter was supposed to arrive at eight thirty.

“No, he’s over an hour late, I assumed he slept in from the trip?” There was a breathy choking noise and it sounded like May was on the verge of tears.

“H – he didn’t stay the night at the compound? I thought he went straight there after getting back but Ned just called and said nobody’s seen him since Friday, he could still be in Canada and –”

“Okay, May, it’s gonna be fine, he took his suit with him on the trip just in case. Alright, I’ll track it now and fly over to grab him, okay? It’ll all be fine; just take a breath and I’ll call when I find something.” He waited until he got an affirmative from May before hanging up and immediately pulling his chair over to the computer and bringing up Peter’s suit signal. “Where you at kid?” He muttered to himself, pinpointing the location of both his phone and suit to be at a hotel in Canada. He figured it was the same hotel the class had been staying at, he suited up quickly, the familiar feeling of worry creeping inside him again.

When he landed, he let the suit melt away into a briefcase, keeping a calm composure as he slipped into the hotel and retrieved the phone and suit, which were still lying at the bottom of the kid’s suitcase inside the room. He was stumped on what to do for a short while, then he thought to look up what the class had done on Friday, reading over the information they had on a museum not too far from the hotel. “Bingo,” he whispered, easily hacking into the security footage of the museum and watched from the time the class arrived.

Peter and Ned stuck together near the back of the group, marvelling over some of the exhibits happily until Peter seemed to get distracted by something. He followed the direction the teen was looking in, watching three men in black clothing walk by and out the back door. Peter waited until his group moved on before he trailed after the men, sneaking out the door behind them so the camera angle switched to outside where a van was parked. From the new angle, Tony could make out the tattoos the men each had, recognising the symbol easily and groaning as he realised exactly how stupid Peter was being, following three Hydra agents without his suit or phone close by. “Come on kid, we need to work on your stealth skills.”

Peter may have had spider-like abilities, but that didn’t stop one of the men from hiding behind one side of the van while the other two stood talking, very aware of the teen who was attempting to listen to them from the opposite side of the van. He practically walked into the third man that had hidden, and Tony knew that he would have walked fully into him if his senses hadn’t warned him. Peter was a good fighter, fast reflexes and impressive reaction times, but he wasn’t good enough to win against three fully-trained Hydra agents while simultaneously not giving away his powers.

Tracking the van with satellite and highway speed cameras proved a bit more difficult that hacking into the museums feed, but Tony managed to place the general area they were when Peter busted the door down and ran into the trees. As soon as he was in the suit and flying above the same road he had seen on the footage, he turned on thermal imaging. It took twelve minutes to pick up the only slightly warmer blip on his display.

“Peter?” He let the suit retract when he landed, running into the ditch toward the puffy jacket curled up on the side of the road. He could just make out the wild curls blowing in the wind and peeking out from where his face must have been shoved into his chest. “Peter! What the hell, is this blood?” He kneeled beside the boy and didn’t take notice of the dirt ruining his pant knees as he made F.R.I.D.A.Y run diagnostics on his condition.

“Mister Parker appears to be unconscious and suffering from hypothermia and two gunshot wounds which have begun to heal at an accelerated rate. I suggest finding medical attention and seeking shelter from the weather.” He lifted Peter’s chin up and touched his forehead gently, flinching when he felt how cold the boy’s skin was and how blue his lips were.

“You just had to skip out on the museum, didn’t you?” He sighed dramatically and picked the teen up gingerly. “How quickly does he need medical attention? Can I take him back to the Med Bay at the compound or is that too far?”

“The altitude of the flight may prove to be detrimental to his condition, the heater in his suit may prove useful for his body temperature.” Of course, Peter’s suit had a heater, he needed to get the teen out of his damp clothes and get him into the suit. He unzipped the kid’s jacket and very carefully peeled away the part of his shirt that had stuck to the wound. He decided to leave the pants and undershirt on because they weren’t very wet, and he didn’t want Peter to be any more exposed to the cold even if it was just until he got the suit on. Luckily, when he tapped the spider emblem on the chest, it adjusted around the clothes and Tony immediately turned the heater on and zipped the jacket up over the top.

“Let’s get you to the Med Bay and call you aunt before she kills me.” He put his own suit on and lifted Peter, making sure to hold him where it wouldn’t aggravate the bullet wounds. As he flew, he called May, wincing when her voice rang out loud and concerned.

“Did you get him? Is he okay?”

“He will be okay, he was still in Canada, he left his suit and phone at the hotel and got himself stranded in the snow. Can you meet me at the compound, I’m getting him warm and sorting out the – uh, the wounds.” He prepared himself for the yelling and thankfully the A.I adjusted the call volume so May didn’t deafen him.

“What do you mean wounds?” She began patiently.

“He’s going to be fine, they’ve already healed up well, but I just need to get the bullets out, he was shot.” He braced.

“He was what? Peter was shot! It was a school trip, how did he even – okay, you know what, I’m saving this till he’s at the compound, I’m on my way.” She hung up and Tony smirked, looking down at the teen bundled in his arms and huffing a small laugh.

“When you get better you should prepare for an earful kid, how you manage to get yourself in these situations baffles me every time.” The flight wasn’t too long, it would have been longer for the rest of his class.

The doctors were ready when he arrived, and May was about ten minutes out. He took the jacket and the suit, leaving the doctors to do the rest and watching from the window as they heated the kid up and removed the bullets, administering him some enhanced anaesthetics that Tony had altered specifically for him. When May arrived they both walked to his room together, talking in hushed whispers about the security footage and what had actually happened.

“M – May? M’s’er S’rk?” Tony turned to the bed to see Peter’s eyes fluttering open and his head turning toward them amongst the pile of blankets he was covered in.

“Hey kid, museum’s bit too boring for you, huh?” He smiled warmly and wished he had found the boy sooner. Peter didn’t have the energy to roll his eyes, but Tony knew he wanted to. May leapt up and hugged him, avoiding his shoulder but still pressing a kiss to his forehead before sitting back down.

“Do not, ever, do something like that again, you get me?” Peter nodded sheepishly and mumbled an apology while he shifted in the bed. “You scared the hell out of me Pete, I don’t want you going anywhere without your phone for a while.”

“M’ sorry…” He took the hand May was offering and let her squeeze gently. “Feeling kinda funny,” he said, slouching his head and looking at Tony curiously.

“That’ll be the drugs kiddo, they’re starting to wear off, it’ll go away soon.” He nodded tiredly, and his eyes drooped so he was watching and smiling with a half-asleep expression. “You can get some rest, we’re not going anywhere till you’re good. We can get some work done in the lab next weekend, that sound good?” Peter was still conscious enough to grin sloppily and chirp an eager ‘yep,’ popping the ‘p’ sound as he did so.

“M’ go to sleep, thanks f’r getting’ me Mis’er S’ark, sorry f’r worrying you Aunt May,” he interrupted himself with a yawn and let his eyes drop fully shut. He stayed awake long enough for Tony to scoot his chair around the opposite side of the bed and comb his fingers through his curls. May kept her hand on Peter’s and he fell asleep with a smile still on his lips.