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(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)
"Get off the ceiling," doctor Jenner said. He was too tired to shout, but the last vestige of give-a-fuck gave him enough energy to care about the unsanitary effect of Spiderman's shoes on the ceiling. "In fact, get out of my hospital."
"My aunt is here," Spiderman said. He swung around and landed on his feet in front of the doctor. "She's dying."
Jenner sighed. "And you're not helping by interfering with our efforts to save people, including her."
"I could help," Spiderman said.
"How?" Jenner waved at the scurrying people around him, most of whom barely glanced at Spiderman. Maybe Spiderman had murdered Mysterio. Maybe his real name was Peter Parker. That wasn't important right now. What was important... "Do you happen to have a few thousand spare N95 respirators in your pocket?"
"No, but I have something else you could use. My blood." The white eyepatches on Spiderman's mask grew wide. "It's special."
"Look, I appreciate the offer, but we're not an experimental laboratory. Just... take off the costume and donate blood, like anyone else. I have to go. I'm just a little busy here." Jenner turned to walk away.
Peter raised his voice. "I had the virus this morning. Everything, fever, dry cough, runny nose, I ached all over and I couldn't catch my breath. An hour later I was fine. I want you to give Aunt May a plasma donation from me. I looked it up. Sometimes it helps. She's dying, Doctor. You can have my blood if you save her. You can have all of it."
Jenner stopped and turned back. "And what if we can't save her?"
The eyepatches almost closed for a moment as Spiderman lowered his head. Then he straightened. "You could have it anyway. That's what Aunt May would want."
Jenner pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial. "Yes, this is Dr. Jenner. I'm requesting permission to give plasma treatment to a patient in a time-sensitive case. I'll hold." He waved at a passing nurse.
"Take this young man down to donate blood to be prepared for a plasma transfusion."
"Yes, doctor," the nurse said, totally unfazed. "This way, young man..."
An arm reached up from a wheelchair, waving frantically. "STOP HIM, THAT'S SPIDERMAN! HE'S A MURDERER!" the shout was followed by frantic coughing, muffled under the homemade face mask he was wearing, a cheerful red and blue print of lobsters.
"Calm yourself, Mr. Jameson," Dr. Jenner said. "You've got a fever, it's making you hallucinate. This is Mr. Doe, John Doe."
"Spide..." Jameson said. His face was bright red, matching his mask. "I tell you..."
The nurse pushing Jameson's wheelchair looked at Spiderman and then at the doctor. "Yes, sir," he said soothingly. "And Superman flies past every hour on the hour." He kept pushing, until Jameson's voice was just a raspy grumble in the distance.
"Go," Jenner said to Peter.
"Peter?" Aunt May said, weakly, blinking and looking around the curtained alcove containing her hospital bed. "You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous for you."
Peter took off his mask and smiled at her. "I'm good, May. And so are you." He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "Larb you."
May smiled back at him. "Larb you, too, Peter."