Chapter 23
Peter's eyes flutter open at the feel of someone pulling on his arms. He pulls away from the arms, sitting up to a pounding headache and a throbbing body. His whole body seems to be one big bruise, and his hands are bandaged—a fact he gets intimately aquainted with when he runs one hand through his hair a second later. His hair has dry blood streaked through it, and there are so many reasons why he doesn't even think about it. It's still half on end because he never patted it down after his spidey sense jolted him in response to the bomb.
His eyes begin to process things and he looks up to see a Very Concerned Wade. He's oddly silent as he frowns at Peter, and for a moment Peter is a bit confused as to why Wade seems so concerned. That is, until he processes he's covered in banages and dried blood and sewn up cuts. His whole mind is hazy with exhaustion and screaming in hunger and begging for sleep and horribly pained and for a second he just lets himself be dizzy and his mind reel. Then he steels himself to look around.
The door behind him is open, courtesy of his stumbling through it and then taking all of five steps before passing out. The carpet under him is soft, though he barely feels it. Wade grumbles to his box again, and insistent robotic arms tug at him. He lets them drag him to the couch, where he nestles into the cushions, a groan of pain leaving his throat. Wade's mouth has started moving. He's speaking. His words garble up and muffle themselves as Peter lets sleep drown him again. He barely registers Wade pulling a blanket over him with his robotic arms, or that Wade's closed the door and promised to feed him. He's just so, so tired.
Peter's bandaged hands are covered in blood. Tony is bleeding in his arms, burnt skin an acrid smell that sears Peter's nose. His whole body tenses. His stomach flips. His mind reels. He turns his head.
He's vomiting up blood. It's leaving him at a dizzying rate. It's drowning the spiders. They’re screaming for help. He turns over. Screams. Tony's body is on fire. He's on fire. His hands are burning. Everything is—
Red. Everything is red and now his hands aren't bandaged—
—Ben, gasping for breaths he can't make, red pooling on his chest and dripping down his sides and it's all over Peter's hands. His fault. His fault—
But it's Tony's face suddenly.
Then it’s Ben's and he can't tell whose it is anymore—
Then there's so much blood and it's everywhere and it's red. So red. So much—
Gwen. There's no red but her eyes—they don't have life anymore. Her neck isn't right, twisted. It's- she's. Peter screams, then suddenly Gwen is burned and there's a bullet in her chest and his world is flashing and it's Tony then Ben then Gwen and there's red and it's all his fault—
He screams. His hands are on fire. Gwen's on fire. Ben's on fire. Tony's on fire. Everything is on—
Peter's breath leaves him in a gasp. He sits up ramrod straight. Sweat sticks to his skin. His pupils are dilated. His heart is hammering. His body screams in protest at Peter's movements, but he's focused on his bandaged hands. Dry blood cakes them and it's hideously brown and so, so red.
He screams.
"Petey!"
Someone is yelling his name. Peter's eyes are blurry—tears, hot and dripping down his face and he's still screaming. He's tearing off the bandages now. "Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!" Peter sees his palms underneath. Still burnt. Still red and inflamed and red. There is so much red, and now he's noticing how his entire upper body is covered in dried blood and bandages and he's screaming and crying and he keeps repeating, "Get it off! Get it off!"
Firm hands around his wrist. His whole body jolting. Stopping at the touch. Shock. Scarred hands. Holding his wrist. Striking blue eyes filling his gaze and he can see every detail of them. Tears blurring his vision and he keeps seeing those blue eyes and his body shakes.
"Petey," comes the voice, and it's not how it usually is. It's soft. A little desperate. Mostly calming. A little hardened. Peter stares at Wade, desperation on his face and tears begin to fall a little quicker.
"There was so much blood," he whispers, like it's a secret, "I didn't—I never—I never thought I'd see so much again. But—"
Arms pulling him in. Tears flooding his vision. Sobs ripping through his body and he's crying and shaking and scared and remembering. His whole body is protesting. It's pained and hungry and needs sustenance and sleep but Peter's crying and shaking and he can't stop—
—he can't stop.
He buries his face in Wade's neck and cries. He cries for Tony. And Ben. And Gwen and all the other people that he's gotten killed and hurt and he cries and he cries and he cries until there's nothing left for him to cry and then he doesn't move. He can't sleep and his whole body screams but he can't sleep because if he sleeps he'll dream and he doesn't want to dream.
He feels drained and he can't recharge and he's hungry but he has no food and Wade smells kind of nice and he just lets himself sit there and Wade doesn't move and it's nice. It's not nice, but it's calm. He's quiet and his breathing stabilizes and behind Wade, Princess Bride is playing. Isn't that nice? That's nice.
His eyes drift closed.