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“Bloody Spider-Man at it again. He’s more of a nuisance now than anything else.” Tony complained at the news report on the television.
“Don’t get jealous, babe.” Steve smirked and kissed Tony’s forehead. “Where’s Peter?”
Tony pulled himself off Steve and walked into the kitchen. “At Ned’s. Sleeping round I think.”
Steve nodded and turned his attention back to the TV. The footage was showing Spider-Man swinging down the street after some criminals. They had robbed a bank and people had been injured in the process.
Steve’s moral compass told him he should be out there but due it ‘not being an Avengers level threat’, he wasn’t.
Suddenly, Spider-Man had the criminals on the ground and was out of the scene. Steve let out a sigh, glad that the mysterious superhero was okay, despite him being a nuisance.
“What’s happening?”
“Oh so now you’re interested!”
—
Peter gripped his stomach tightly. The wound was bad and he couldn’t get the bullets out without loosing too much blood, even with his healing abilities.
The of the bad guys had shot at him while he was in the air and he had landed on a roof, luckily, which cushioned his fall a little more than the distance to the ground would.
But of course, being shot wouldn’t stop Peter from catching the thieves, so he carried on.
Now, he was desperate.
He dropped one hand to itch his neck and blood seeped out onto him, the deep red stain on suit growing. “Damn it!”
Peter clasped his hand back down and continued walking as quickly as he could.
He couldn’t go back to Ned’s like he normally would and he couldn’t go to the hospital.
That left one option that he hated even thinking about.
Home.
Tony hated Spider-Man because Nick Fury wanted him and Tony couldn’t catch him.
Peter didn’t even want to think about how mad Tony, let alone Steve, would be when they found out how much danger he had put himself in.
As he felt himself get weaker from blood loss, he realised that going home was the only acceptable option.
—
“Dad? Pops?”
No answer.
Peter stepped inside, trying his best not to bleed on the floor because then someone would have to clean it up and that wasn't fair.
Peter’s vision started to blur and his head felt light.
He was not going to pass out on the floor.
He called again a little louder as he slowly walked further. He heard movement from his parent’s bedroom and a door opened.
“Peter?” Tony turned the corner and saw Peter standing just inside the front door. “Is everything okay? I thought you were staying at Ned’s.”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry. There was a bit of an inconvenience. I can fix it though! I promise!”
Tony paused. He turned on the light and felt his heart drop to the floor when he saw what was in front of him.
Peter was slightly bent over, both hands grasping his stomach. Blood was everywhere and his hands were almost completely red. It smelt like someone had just died.
“A fucking inconvenience?!”
Peter smiled meekly and shrugged. “I’m sorry.” His voice was small and quiet.
”Steve! Get up now!” Tony yelled and Steve appeared a second later.
When he caught sight of his son, his face went as pale as Peter’s and he stood in complete shock.
”Okay, great. We’ve acknowledged I’m bleeding and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s bleeding a lot. Can you help?” Peter could feel himself getting weaker.
Steve rushed over to Peter and gently picked up and carried him to the couch. Tony wordlessly left the room, presumably to find a first aid kit.
Peter removed his hands and Steve pulled his suit down to waist level.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Steve told him quietly, gesturing to suit before gently placing his hands on the wound to reduce the bleeding.
Tony came in with a first aid kit, handing it to Steve as he lifted Peter’s head and sat down. Peter lay on his dad’s lap and watched Steve open the kit.
”Do you know what you’re doing? It’s just 2 bullets. I can do it if you want.” Peter told him.
Steve quickly shook his head. “It’s been a hundred and something years but I remember. Vaguely.”
“Vaguely?! Steve, this is our son!” Tony cried out at him.
Steve rolled his eyes like it was obvious that he wouldn’t do anything that would put Peter in danger.
He picked up tweezers with one hand, replacing his other with a gauze until he was ready to start.
“Ready?”
“Just 3 bullets. Pull them out. It hurts.” Peter replied and Tony looked down at him worriedly. Peter glanced over the edge. “I’m also bleeding on the couch, I’m sorry.”
Tony stroked his hair. “Sshh, it’s okay. Just breathe okay?”
“Can we backtrack? You said 2 before and now it’s 3?” Steve asked, becoming increasingly stressed and doubting his ability.
Peter pulled a face and shifted his body a little before wincing in pain. “I made it up, I don't know how many.”
Steve nodded and took a deep breath. He had done this countless times in the war. He could do this.
It wasn’t like his son’s life was in his hands or anything.
”Steve!”
”Okay okay. I’m doing it.”
Steve removed the gauze and stared at the wound for a short while before gently pulling out the first obvious bullet.
Peter shrunk away in pain but Tony held him down because he was desperate to get this over with.
”One down. One more to go. Or two.” Steve said, placing the first bullet down on the table.
”Hurry up babe.” Tony added. “Pete looks really bad.”
”I know.”
Steve found the second bullet quickly and pulled it out. This time Peter let out a small scream and his hand shot out to the wound to hold it.
”It hurts! Papa stop, it hurts!“
Steve looked at Tony for help and he shook his head, mouthing ‘one more.’
It turned out that there was three bullets, Steve found it, pulled it out, and stitched it up as quickly as he could. Neither of them could listen to Peter scream like this anymore.
”It’s over, it’s over.” Tony pulled Peter into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around him.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered in between tears. “I should of told you. Don’t make me stop, please.”
This time, Tony looked to Steve for help.
“Peter.” Steve sat up on the couch on the other side of Peter.
“I don’t want to stop. I can’t. They need me. I’ve never been hurt like this before, it won’t happen again I swear.”
Steve hushed him gently. “We don’t have to talk about this now. Me and your Dad need to talk alone.”
Peter’s face fell. He looked in between them both and flopped back against the backrest. “You might as well just take my suit away now.”
Steve glared at Tony who got the message. “I don’t hate you Peter. I could never hate you.”
Peter mumbled, “You hate Spider-Man.”
Tony ran his hand across his beard and sighed. He had fucked up. “It’s different now.”
Peter shrugged. “Okay. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
He started to get up and both men got up to help. Peter didn’t resist and let them guide him to his room.
As Peter lay in bed and Steve and Tony began to leave the room, Peter spoke up.
“I’m Spider-Man.”
Steve and Tony looked at each other and then turned the light off and shut the door.
As soon as they got into their room, Tony burst out.
“Our son just got shot and he's Spider-Man! He’s Spider-Man! Fucking hell Steve!”
Steve mumbled a quiet ‘language’ and saw Tony grin. “We can talk about it in the morning. I need to sleep to process this.”
Tony chuckled and pulled Steve into bed.