That Spidey Life
"Just breaking now - it appears Spider-Man has collapsed! After seemingly walking away from that crash with no injuries, Spider-Man is now unconscious on the ground! NYPD are assisting and we've no details yet but - wait, what's that in the distance... is that Iron-Man?"
"Make some noise for me Karen."
Peter dangled his feet off the edge of the roof as he looked down on the city.
"What noise would you like me to make?"
"Wait, you can do actual noises? I just meant tell me where some crime had to be fought, but this is definitely more important!" He thought about it. "Can you be a cat?"
"Meow."
"Woah, nice! What about a dog?"
"Grrrrr."
He laughed. "Robot dog! Okay, uh, let's make it a really hard one. A giraffe." After a pause, Karen started humming low. It was a strange sound he'd never heard before. "What're you doing?"
"Recent research suggest giraffes actually hum, but only during the night and not frequently."
"Oh, cool!" he grinned. "Hey, is it only animal noises or can you make any noise?"
"I can certainly try any noise, though whether my programming allows me to imitate it is another question."
"Okay okay, um..." he tried to think of a really difficult sound. The problem was solved for him when his stomach rumbled. "Can you imitate that?"
"It appears not. However, it is my understanding noises like that mean you should go eat. There is a Chinese restaurant nearby with many good reviews." The information for the restaurant popped up on his screen. The food did look pretty good in the pictures and his mouth watered. He retrieved his backpack and hunted, finding some change from his earlier supermarket shopping. He counted it aloud and, without any prompting, Karen said, "With the amount you have, I recommend you stop by a convenience store instead and pick up some snacks."
Peter sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Man, Spider-Man buying stuff like a normal person is so lame..."
"I believe Spider-Man fainting from hunger is equally lame," she replied.
"... Karen, what have I told you about taking sass lessons from F.R.I.D.A.Y?"
"Peter!" May banged on his door. The teenager in question bolted upright, ripped straight out of sleep, and blinked blearily around him. "Peter, you're going to be late!"
The urgency in his aunt's tone woke him up better than anything else and he cursed when he realised the time.
"I'm up!" he shouted as he leapt out of bed, detangling himself from the duvet. He hastily got dressed, wound up wearing odd socks because he didn't have time to find the pairs and got half way out the door before realising his t-shirt was inside out. He fixed it as he went, bounding down the hallway to the front door where May was waiting with an apple and his rucksack.
"Did you stay out late last night?" she frowned as he took the apple. It was a fair question because he didn't normally oversleep, but it still annoyed him she even asked.
"I studied a little after patrolling," he said and rolled his eyes when she started fussing with his hair. "Finals are soon and I wasn't tired and I thought studying would be better than just wasting my time lying in bed trying to sleep, you know?"
"Hmm. Well, don't make a habit of it. Sleep's important," she stepped back. "Make sure you have a big lunch, okay? Now get going before you miss the bus!"
"Larb you," Peter said, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder and bounding out the door.
"Larb you too!"
He took a bite of the apple as he dashed down the stairs, then gagged. Way too sour. He chucked it in the bin on the street and started running to catch the bus, lamenting once more that he couldn't just swing to school. It would be so much quicker.
"Hey losers," MJ greeted as she joined them at lunch and then peered over the table. "Whatcha working on Parker?"
"Spanish essay," he said as he looked up a word in his dictionary.
"The one due next week?" Ned's head snapped up from his phone. "Dude, we've got the weekend."
"I don't," Peter sighed and, accepting for the moment he wouldn't be able to concentrate, put his pen down and rested his chin on his palm. "I'm with Mr Stark." To their credit, neither of them pointed out Mr Stark would let him do his homework at the compound if he needed. They knew his time with his mentor was already limited, so he couldn't afford to waste some of it on something he could easily fit in another time.
"What about the evenings?"
"Decathlon and patrol today, tomorrow at the compound, next Monday is patrol and hospital, and I want to get in a little extra studying because I won't at the weekend anyway - oh and Miss Potts keeps asking me to do things for her and May's taking a few extra shifts so she wants me to do some chores." He ticked off each of them on his fingers and, when finished, exhaled and slumped down on the seat.
MJ frowned. "Maybe you could ask Miss Potts to ease off, just till after finals?"
"Uh, no he can't," Ned cut in. "If he can't handle the wedding tasks, how's he meant to manage Iron-Man's twitter?" he looked at Peter. "Dude, you have to do everything she tells you. It's like a job interview! Right?"
"Probably," Peter agreed. MJ didn't look happy but she also didn't argue, which usually meant she agreed but didn't like the fact. He looked back at his homework with another sigh. "So yeah. I gotta get this done now, sorry guys."
"It's cool, I can read," MJ shrugged and pulled out her book. Ned went back to Instagram, and Peter went back to his essay, his lunch tray going almost untouched.
More often than not, he swung by the supermarket on his way home with a list of items to buy so he and May could cook dinner later. That day, he'd just got home with the shopping when his phone rang.
"Hello?" he shoved the phone in his neck as he juggled the bags and the keys.
"Hi Peter, how are you? I need you to do me a favor," Miss Potts said. Peter managed to get the door open and stumbled inside.
"Sure, anything!" he chirped even as he eyed the shopping with a look of dread. May had wanted him to cook dinner so that when she came home later, she could just have the leftovers.
"There's a problem with the florist for the wedding and I've been on the phone and emailing, but he's insisting someone go in person. Honestly, I'm this close to choosing someone less picky but..." she trailed off with a sigh. Peter knew exactly why she wouldn't. Somehow, she'd found out that this particular florist had been a favourite of Mr Stark's parents and she wanted to honor that - even though Mr Stark had insisted it didn't matter.
"Yeah, I can go but I dunno what you want me to do 'cause I know nothing about flowers."
"I'll send you the address. Just ring me when you get there and we'll handle it then. Thank you, Peter." She sounded so grateful Peter couldn't even feel a little mad as she hung up. The little tasks she was asking him to do probably barely even touched on the millions of things she had to do, so there really was no way he could complain.
"Sorry May," he said and quickly wrote a note letting her know Miss Potts had needed his help. He didn't know how long he'd be, maybe he'd be back before his aunt got home, but in case he wasn't at least she had the ingredients to make something for herself now.
"Hold that in place," Mr Stark ordered.
"Sir yes sir!"
"Without the sass, please. When your name is on a lab, you can be as sassy as you like."
Peter grinned as he pressed together the servos and the battery pack. "Sorry Mr Stark." He wasn't sorry in the slightest and, by the way he rolled his eyes, Mr Stark didn't believe him either. "It's just this is so cool! Learning about cars and engines was amazing and then to be making a robot with you? Can we make it shoot fire? Have lasers?"
"Until you can prove to me you can make simple robots we're not touching any of those," his mentor said. Peter didn't pout, but it was close. "I thought Happy said awhile back you were in the robotics club?"
"I was," Peter confirmed and shifted his fingers so Mr Stark could attach the breadboard. "But then I became Spider-Man."
Mr Stark frowned a little and actually paused what he was doing. "Is that what happened with band practice too?"
"Yeah, I dunno why decathlon was the only one I kept doing..."
Actually, he did. Liz was the sole reason he hadn't ditched, even though he kept missing so many practice sessions. Even he, awkward and inexperienced as he was, had known giving up a position like that would have ruined any chance with her. Interestingly enough, it was now for MJ that he stayed on the decathlon team (and to piss off Flash)... but there was no way he was telling Mr Stark any of that. Even if his mentor was interested, it would only be more ammunition to tease Peter with.
"Why don't you go back? Do robotics, at least. You clearly love it."
Peter forced his mind back to the present. "Um... I just don't think I have the time for it now."
"Do you want to?"
"I guess," he gave it some thought. It would be cool to spend that time with Ned again - with everything else going on, they barely had any 'fun' time together anymore, but... "There are more important things I have to do."
Mr Stark shrugged. "I'm not gonna force you kid, but just think about it, alright? Robotics would look good on your application to MIT."
"How did you know -?"
There was a knock on the lab door and they both turned to see who it was.
"Pepper? Is something wrong?" Mr Stark frowned.
"No," she smiled and his mentor visibly relaxed. "I was just hoping to borrow Peter for a minute. I want to follow up on the flowers and a few other things."
"Yeah, no, kid's busy right now. Come back later."
"It won't take long."
Peter glanced between the two. They were staring each other down, seemingly arguing without words, and he would feel in awe if it wasn't the fact they were arguing over him. That just made him feel really really awkward. He shifted on the seat and focused on the beginning stage of a robot in his hands. He really wanted to continue, but Miss Potts was fast becoming this big sister slash boss person he couldn't say no to. Plus, she wouldn't come and ask for him unless it was important.
Mr Stark must've come to the same realisation because he huffed and pointed a finger at her.
"No more than fifteen minutes. I've got plans and there's only two days so we have to make them count."
"Thank you," she said and then beckoned to Peter. "Come on, I need you to do something for me."
Peter waved awkwardly at Mr Stark as he left the room.
Ever since the news had broken Spider-Man visited sick kids in hospitals, it had been much harder to go. Everyone – patients and staff – was on the lookout and no matter how considerate people were, someone always passed on the information to the press or uploaded to social media and gave it away. There was significantly less interest than there had been now, primarily because it was months later and the news wasn’t exactly new anymore, but there was always some.
Peter peered over the ledge of the roof next door and sighed as he spotted several undercover journalists hanging around in the parking lot.
“Mr Stark would like me to reiterate that if you stop for a while, interest will fade, and you won’t have to keep doing this.”
He rolled his eyes. “Karen, can you ‘reiterate’ to him that there’s no way I’m gonna quit?” It was much harder now, he’d admit – he had to randomise the days he went, which hospital he went to, and stay only an hour or so – but he couldn’t give up just because it had got difficult. How was that fair to the children?
“I have done so. To avoid the journalists, you will likely need a distraction.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Peter got to his feet and glanced around. “Think a rock would work? Or a glass bottle?”
“In this situation, neither of those choices would be effective. Also, there is an incoming call from your guy in the chair. Do I answer it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Ned’s face suddenly appeared on his screen. “Dude, where are you? We’ve been waiting like fifteen minutes!”
“Stuck outside,” Peter groaned. “I’m trying to avoid a bunch of reporters. We need a distraction but there’s nothing -”
“Say no more.” And his friend hung up.
Peter blinked. “Uh. Karen. What’s he doing?”
They found out a few minutes later. Ned appeared at the hospital entrance and made a beeline for the undercover journalists (over the months, Peter and his friends had all gotten much better at identifying them), who he then ‘accidentally’ walked into and knocked to the ground. “Thanks man,” he whispered even though Ned wouldn’t hear and took advantage of the distraction to swing across to the hospital roof and sneak in through the fire escape.
Time to make some kids feel better.
“Has the florist got back to you yet?”
“Uh…” Peter crouched on the edge of a building and watched the street, but his mind was miles away. “I spoke to this guy Jacobs who said they could provide the gypsophila at a discount ‘cause you’re ordering the other stuff, but that’s in the email…”
“One moment,” Miss Potts fell silent and he used the time to actually pay attention to his patrol. It was Friday evening so there were a lot more people out and about. “Yes, I have it. It all looks good, Peter. Well done.” He grinned. Miss Potts didn’t give out praise lightly or without reason and it made the stress of the past week worth it. His stomach rumbled suddenly, reminding him he’d accidentally skipped dinner again, and he sighed. There were still a few hours until his appointed ‘bedtime’ (as agreed by May and Mr Stark), but perhaps he could get a snack?
“Did we ever move forward about the napkins?”
“Oh!” Peter was immediately distracted. “Mr Stark banned me from that, didn’t he?”
“He can’t ban you from anything, but I take your point.”
He could hear the smile in her voice and it gave him the confidence to ask, “Is there anything else you need me to do?”
“I’ll be in touch if there is. By the way, how are things with MJ?”
Her tone was lighter, more teasing, and he was coming to recognise it as the switch between ‘boss’ and ‘friend’. Accordingly, he allowed himself to groan and flop down on the roof, huffing like a child. Miss Potts had somehow got it in her head that Peter had a crush on MJ and would not let it go.
“Fine,” he muttered. “We’re gonna meet up to do some studying tomorrow evening.”
“Your finals are next week?”
“The week after,” Peter exhaled slowly. “I really don’t think I’m ready -” he broke off when he heard a stifled scream from a nearby alley. “Sorry Miss Potts, duty calls.”
“I’ll wait,” she said. Peter shrugged. It was her time to waste if she wanted to listen to him.
He hopped over a few rooftops and peered into the alley where the scream came from. It was a familiar sight – one man holding a gun to a girl, who was shaking as she held her bag out and scrambled around desperately for some cash or her purse.
“You’d think they’d’ve learnt by now,” he sighed.
In one swift move he shot a web, taking the gun out the fight by sticking it to the ground. The next second he leapt off the building and swung down, colliding feet first into the mugger’s chest and sending him flying out the alley onto the street. “Oops,” he winced when he heard a few more screams. He turned to the girl and looked her up and down. “You doing okay Miss?” She looked unharmed, though her eyes were wide and she trembled a little. “Look, I gotta go get this guy. Stay safe, okay?”
He felt a bit bad for leaving her, but the bad guy needed dealing with first.
He darted out into the street to the mugger, who had just staggered to his feet. He moved gingerly and Peter suspected his ribs were bruised, if not cracked – Peter had hit hard.
“Time’s up buddy,” he called as he approached, ignoring the screams and shouts of the people around him as they realised who he was. His popularity had shot through the roof ever since the interview with WIRED and, as he webbed up the mugger and tied him to a lamppost, he wasn’t at all surprised to see most people had got their phones out and were filming him.
It made his skin crawl a little to be the centre of attention, but he remembered how confident Mr Stark always looked whenever he was hounded and did his best to imitate it.
“And this, kids, is why crime never pays,” he waggled his fingers at the camera. “Don’t be like him, okay? It’s just embarrassing.” He gestured to the mugger and shook his head, as if disappointed. “Enjoy your night! Remember to be safe!” he shouted to the crowd, darted to the nearest building and then climbed up it. On the roof, out of sight of the cameras, he slumped down and took a few minutes to get his nerves under control.
“Good work Peter,” Miss Potts said then, her voice quiet, and he remembered she’d stayed on the line.
“There’s so many more people watching me now,” he said as he drew his legs up to his chest. “What if they find out my identity?”
“There are procedures in place for when it happens,” Miss Potts reassured. “It will be fine."
"When it happens?"
"Everything comes out eventually," she said. Peter had to admit she had a point. "Though, if you could avoid it until after your eighteenth, it would make things much easier.”
He couldn't quite stop a smile. "So, a month. Got it. Thank you Miss Potts."
“You’re welcome. Take care on the rest of your patrol, and have an early night, okay? You sound exhausted.”
“I’ll try.”
“Hey man, have you finished the reading for English yet?” Ned asked as he stacked the last chair. Peter cast a speculative look at his rucksack as he straightened the tables. The past couple of weeks had become one long blur and he genuinely couldn’t remember if he had or not. “Peter?”
“Sorry!” he shook himself and looked back at his friend. “Which one?”
That made both Ned and MJ give him a weird look, and then the former said slowly, “Wuthering Heights?” Belatedly, Peter realised it was also the only reading they currently had.
“Right, yeah,” he tried to pretend he hadn’t just had a brain fart and rummaged through his bag. The book was indeed there, next to his new ring-binder, and he pulled both out. “You want my notes or…?” he glanced over his shoulder at his friends, only to realise they had snuck up behind him and were staring at his binder with wide eyes. “What?”
“You’ve been holding out,” MJ looked impressed.
“Holy crap dude!” Ned had already taken the binder and was flicking through.
“Hey!” Peter protested but it was half-hearted, especially when MJ took it out of Ned’s hands and then they studied it together.
“Calculus, Physics, Computer Science, blah blah…” MJ raised her eyebrows at him. “All your classes are here.”
“Why wouldn’t they be?”
Ned made a triumphant noise and flicked to the back, where the English Literature section was. Peter leant over and pointed out the flash cards he’d written, summarising the various points of the book (themes, analysis, etc), and his best friend’s jaw dropped before he looked back at Peter.
“Since when do you care about school work again?” he asked.
A little offended, Peter snapped, “I’ve always cared!”
“Okay but dude, this is like – the you of three years ago, the Peter Parker before -” he glanced around and lowered his voice. “Spider-Man, you know?”
“Look, I know I haven’t been great recently -”
“You averaged B+ last year,” MJ said flatly and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve held off mentioning it, but if it’s repeated this semester it’s going to become a problem. I can’t have someone on the team with anything less than an A.”
“Wait,” Peter stared. “You were going to kick me off the team?”
“Put you in reserves. You and Flash would’ve swapped,” she corrected and now Ned was staring at her in horror too. She huffed. “Marks are what count, you know that.”
“Are you still going to-?” he couldn’t even say it out loud.
MJ studied him and relaxed her stance. “Not if you keep this up,” she admitted and nodded at his folder. “You were averaging B+ when you didn’t put in any effort, so now you are…” she shrugged. “I guess we’ll see after finals though.”
Oh, well, what was a little more pressure anyway?
“When’d you start doing this anyway Peter?” Ned asked.
Peter gratefully accepted the change of subject. “You know how busy I've been lately? I was with Miss Potts last weekend and it came up how much work I had, with finals nearing, and she suggested... this."
“Ohhhh,” his best friend said and then, to Peter’s surprise, exchanged a smirk with MJ.
“Of course,” MJ sniffed. “If it’s not ‘Mr Stark this’, it’s ‘Miss Potts that’. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush.”
“MJ!” he exclaimed in horror. What was his life, that both MJ and Miss Potts went to the same idea? If May ended up joining them, he would have to throw himself off the nearest building without any webs or parachutes.
“Yeah, Miss Potts isn’t the one he has a crush on,” Ned said helpfully.
“NED!” Peter put his head in his hands and tried to remember how to breathe.
“Oh crap,” his friend muttered when MJ turned a speculative look onto him.
“It’s not like that. Miss Potts has been so amazing to me after everything and I can’t even count the number of ways I owe Mr Stark and I can’t – I don’t want to disappoint them,” Peter lifted his head and looked pleadingly at MJ. “I promised to be better…”
MJ rolled her eyes. “I’m teasing you Parker,” she nudged him in the side. “If it’s causing this, I’m encouraging it.”
“Yeah dude, we get it,” Ned added.
“Though there is one thing…” she narrowed her eyes and looked Peter up and down. “You’ve been looking skinnier recently. You need to eat more.”
“I eat!” Though he had to admit he couldn’t remember when the last time was.
“You’ve barely touched lunch at school the past week ‘cause you’ve been doing your homework,” Ned pointed out. “If you have it’s not been with us.”
“Oh.” That was bad - he would have sworn he had been eating if asked. "Okay, yeah. I'll try. And hey, maybe you should do something like this too," he indicated to the folder.
"If it was advice from Mr Stark, I wouldn't," MJ said. "But if this was from Miss Potts..." Ned nodded in agreement.
Well, Peter couldn't really blame them for that.
"So, what movie would you like to watch?" Peter asked as he threw himself onto the sofa.
May looked a little sheepish. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, but why don't I prepare the popcorn and you can choose?"
"Okay!" he smiled until she was out of sight, then glanced down at his clenched hands. He'd intended to say no to movie night until he'd seen the resignation on her face, heard the unusual hesitance when she'd asked the question - May shouldn't ever sound so nervous when asking him to do something with her, and the fact she was suggested Peter had screwed up significantly. If only he could work out where.
The microwave and popping sounds echoed out the kitchen and he shook himself, then loaded Netflix. May loved most movies, but she had a secret love for trashy rom-coms, so he scanned through the selection.
"What about Just Go With It?" he shouted, remembering how hard it had made her laugh before.
"Whatever you want sweetheart!"
Taking that as a yes, he let it buffer and swiped through Instagram until she came back with the bowl of popcorn.
"You really want to watch this?" she raised an eyebrow as she settled on the sofa next to him and curled her feet underneath her. Peter's chest tightened at the way she made sure to stay on her own side, out of his personal space, and he deliberately made a show of shoving his feet onto her lap.
"Much comfier," he teased while she pretended to take a whiff and then gag.
"Not happening," she said and tickled his feet. He pulled his feet back to safety with a laugh and they both gasped when he nearly knocked over the bowl of popcorn. "Okay okay, just for that..." she shifted and rest her feet on his lap this time. It wasn't like Peter wanted her feet in his lap, but she was already looking more comfortable than before so he let them stay there and then threw a blanket across them both.
"Perfect," he declared once they'd settled. May nodded in agreement and then they played the movie.
At first it was hard for Peter to concentrate. His mind kept racing for all the things he should be doing (what if someone got injured because he wasn't out patrolling? what if studying the hours this evening would mean the difference between an A- and an A+?) but, as time passed, the tension slowly drained out of him. By the time the movie was close to finishing, he'd shifted so he was snuggled up with May and her hand was stroking his head.
The repetitive motion was what did it, in the end.
He fell asleep, brain silent and body relaxed for the first time in weeks.
"Well Karen, what do you have for me today?"
It was early dusk as Peter swung through the city. Without a specific direction, he was enjoying the wind rushing through his hair, the dizzying but thrilling feeling that came from free-falling in-between each leap.
"It appears an Oscorp truck carrying classified research and materials has been hijacked. I have plotted the quickest route for you to take."
"That's a new one," he muttered as he started following Karen's route and it was only a few minutes later he was sailing above the truck in question (travelling by web was seriously quick). Police were already chasing, but the truck was driving too fast and recklessly for them to catch up - it was only luck no one had been seriously hurt yet. "Wish me luck Karen!"
"Good luck Peter."
Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, he calculated the angles and then swung down to cling to the side of the truck. He knocked on the passenger-side window.
"Hey! Mr Criminal!" he knocked again and, against all odds, the driver lowered the window and glanced at him. "Wow, didn't expect that. Are you having a bad day? 'Cause you look it - oh, churros!" he brightened as he saw the food wrapped up on the seat. "Can I have one?" He ducked a punch to the face. "Chill out man, it's just some churros! Didn't your mum ever teach you sharing is caring?" The guy pulled out a handgun and Peter narrowly dodged the bullet, swinging up onto the top of the truck and wondering what he could do.
The priority was to stop the truck, but how?
"Peter, Miss Potts is calling."
"Tell her I'm busy!"
"F.R.I.D.A.Y is insisting." Ugh, that probably meant Mr Stark was behind it - though why he was calling through Miss Potts and not his own suit was another matter. "Answering call." And then Miss Potts's face appeared on his screen.
"Heeeey Miss Potts, I'm kinda busy here -"
She didn't look happy. "You're live on TV."
"Oh shoot," Peter sat upright and spotted the helicopters following the chase. "That's new too."
"You need to handle this before it becomes any bigger," she said. "Tony's on his way but he's still fifteen minutes out."
Peter groaned. "He doesn't have to come all the way out here, I've got this!"
"Do you?" she pressed. He fell silent, a bit annoyed that she was hassling him right now in the middle of the fight, but then the truck swerved suddenly, and he had more immediate things to worry about. He managed to not fall off and then made a snap decision - the best way to stop the truck would be to take out the driver and drive the truck himself. He swung back down through the open window and landed in a crouch on the empty seat.
"Fancy meeting you here!" he greeted, before punching the guy in the face. While the guy was stunned, Peter pressed down on the nearest pedal in the hopes it was the brake, but it didn't do anything. He cursed and tried the next one. The truck skidded to a halt so suddenly that Peter went flying through the windscreen.
For all the injuries he'd had, he'd yet to be involved in a car crash - and, lying on the ground with most parts of his body throbbing, he didn't plan on repeating it either.
"Peter! Peter!" Miss Potts was frantically calling his name.
"I'm okay," he groaned and forced himself to sit up. He did quick check but - "Just bruised, I think." Mr Stark's suit was built to absorb a lot of damage, so that had probably saved him.
"Thank God," she muttered. "Listen, Tony's going to be there in less than ten minutes. Just stay down and let the police handle the rest."
He was about to argue, when he heard gunfire. Any haziness from the crash disappeared and he bolted upright, swaying once when the blood rushed to his head, before recovering and darting up onto the top of the truck. There had been two people inside, apparently, who were now shooting at the NYPD. He felt a bit guilty as he spotted the police cars which had crashed into each other, suspecting it was the sudden brake which had done it, and decided to help. He webbed the guns out their hands and, no longer being shot at, it was easy for the police to rush in and take them out.
Situation sorted.
"See? Told you Mr Stark didn't need to come," Peter said from his vantage point. He sat down on the edge and let his legs dangle over the back door as he watched.
"Oh he's not turning around," Miss Potts said. "In fact, I think he's -"
"Incoming call from Tony Stark," Karen informed him and didn't give him any option to accept or deny before Mr Stark appeared on screen. It was weird to be looking at them both at once.
"I thought we promised no more heart attacks Pete."
Peter sighed. "I'm fine Mr Sta-"
"Yeah, no, Spiderlings don't get a say right now. Karen, run a diagnostic."
For all that Karen was Peter's AI, she couldn't ignore an order from her creator. After a few long, painful seconds, she reported, "Severe bruising across the right side of the body, primarily on the right deltoid, and minor bruising scattered across the rest of the body. No internal bleeding or head injuries."
"See? All good. They'll heal in like, a day."
Mr Stark made a strange strangled sound, apparently speechless, so Miss Potts stepped in. "I'd like you to come by the compound anyway, just to make sure you're alright."
Even though her tone was light, Peter knew it wasn't a request.
"Okay, but -"
"Spider-Man!"
Peter blinked, distracted from his conference call, and Karen helpfully shrunk and put their faces to the side so he could see in front of him. He peered down at the ground where a few police-men were standing and looking up at him.
"Hey officers," he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful but preparing to bolt if necessary. He could never tell whether the police were with him or against him. "You need anything?" They gestured for him to come down and, after a moment's hesitation, Peter did so. "So, full disclosure - I can break out of handcuffs."
"You're not being arrested yet," the officer on the right said, sounded like he'd swallowed a lemon.
"We just wondered if you were okay!" the significantly younger cop in the centre said, leaning forward. "You took a hard fall."
"Nah, I'm cool," he clasped his hands together behind his head (and held back a wince as his muscles protested). "Just an ordinary day really, you know?" The two officers shot him disbelieving looks.
"Well," the older one recovered first. "If that's the case, could you deal with those?"
Peter followed his eyesight and groaned at the crowd of people which had gathered and were now filming. Seeing they had his attention, they started screaming, shouting his name, giving declarations of love, and several officers had to step in and forcibly stop them from coming any closer.
"Be careful Peter," Miss Potts cautioned as he made his way over. "The entire world is watching."
"I'm four minutes out," Mr Stark added.
"No pressure," he muttered, glancing up at the helicopters still hovering around, before summoning all his courage. "Four minutes? Easy." He straightened, tried to imitate Mr Stark's casual posture whenever he dealt with press and then waved. "Hey guys! How's your evening been?"
"Spider-Man, I love you!" a girl at the front shouted, and then several others followed.
It was a little overwhelming, but he knew what Mr Stark would say, so... "I'm flattered, but my heart's already taken."
"Show us your face!" A guy near the back shouted.
"Then I would lose at least half my coolness. Do you want me to be less cool?"
A little girl stumbled forward then, managing to duck underneath the police officer’s arms, and she held up a small, crumpled paper flower. "Spider-Man, this is for you."
The crowd hushed, but Peter wasn't paying them anymore attention. He went on one knee in front of her. "That's a very pretty flower," he said. "Did you make it?" she nodded and he took it. "Thank you. I love it." He stuck the flower on the right side of his suit, just above his heart, and then looked back at her. "What's your name?"
"Gwen."
"Well Gwen, it's very nice to meet you. Is your mummy or daddy around?" The little girl turned and pointed. "Why don't you bring them over?"
"Two minutes," Mr Stark said. Peter got back to his feet so he could greet the parents –
The world swam. He swayed, then his legs gave way and his body crumpled to the ground. Pain exploded all over from the impact and he blinked once, twice, unable to comprehend what had happened, and then his vision went completely dark.
He lost consciousness a few seconds later.