Chapter Text
Mr. Snark: ‘Come by the lab tmmrw? Pepper wants to meet you for realsies' sent 11:44pm
Peter could barely read the text Tony had just sent.
The red-tinted words were too bright for his tired eyes. That, and the dry, red-tinted fluid smeared on his cracked StarkPhone screen was somewhat obstructing his view.
No need to be concerned, or tell anyone, the blood was to himselfs belonging.
That was Peter’s logic. He was the only one that got hurt, and not badly so, and it was his own fault anyway.
No remote need to tell Mr. Stark. At least not right now.
The whole scenario was quite embarrassing, and very stereotypically Spiderman-like.
Luckily, it was 11 pm on a cold December night, so there were no clout chasers looking to get said infamous awkward videos.
It was Peter's first winter as Spiderman.
Earlier that week, Ned brought up an influential point during Phys Ed.
“Dude, dude, dude, dude–” Ned demanded Peter's attention.
“Hmm?” Peter acknowledged. Mouth stuffed with an entire lemon-flavored protein bar.
“Can your-” Ned cautiously lowered his voice, “webs, withstanded the snow??” He asked, urgently.
That morning was the first substantial snowfall of the season, and it occurred to both boys that in the making of Web Fluid 4.0™, they did not test its withstandability against harsh cold.
They’d only tried lukewarm, cold, and hot water, and 96°C frying oil, specifically due to The Incident. (Also ™).
“Shit.” They said, theatrically concurrently.
And so, several minutes ago, Spiderman was fully suited up and triumphantly climbing the left-most building with only one webstrand.
He was foolish to think they were worried for nothing, because this, this was not good.
Somewhere near the top of his sticky rope, an area had frozen in a short period of time and eventually gave out. It broke then, and seconds before it happened Peter felt something should go wrong.
He tried, honest to God he tried to let go of the web and latch onto the wall, but this area had received some wet snow the days prior. The wall was frozen over with a very thin, but thick enough sheet of ice that he stuck to nothing.
Of course, that's when the web snapped, and instinctively, Peter shot another one.
Unhelpfully, the snow had picked up quite harshly in the last few minutes, and as the web traveled to the top of the right-most building, it picked up snowflakes and effectively lost its stickiness.
He landed hard on the cold, gross alley pavement. His elbow and hip took the most shock, and luckily he hadn't hurt his head any more than the slight whiplash.
Really, it was not that bad. Nothing compared to what Spiderman had healed from in his past, reckless days. (Which was really like 6 months ago at most. Peter is still reckless, as every adult in his life tells him, contextually ranging.)
A scraped-up arm, only bleeding a bit, and a bruised hip for a few days is all that would presumably come from this happy little accident.
Statistically, something should be dislocated, but it usually pops back into place overnight, so Peter’s not worried.
Who will be worried though, is Tony. Which is why Peter will definitely not be telling him.
Or Mrs. Potts. Obviously not Mrs. Potts, seems like he’s meeting her “for realsies” tomorrow, and wouldn't that be a weird way to introduce himself?
“Hi, I’m Peter Parker! Let’s shake left hands, I skinned 45% of my right arm yesterday falling off a 4-story office building!!”
Hell no.
Though, being as inclined to his own dicey history of introductions, there is 100% something more psychotic he could and might actually say.
He just hasn't decided yet.
When Peter’s phone buzzed he was still dramatically lying in the bank of snow, blood leaking from his suit and core throbbing.
He dropped it a few times trying to type in his password, getting it wetter and bloodier every time. Really, it was a pathetic sight to behold.
Petor Parkour: ‘Ofc, wats her favorite color?’ read 11:49 pm
Mr. Snark: ‘She likes light blue. why do you aks?’
Mr. Snark: ‘ask**’ read 11:49 pm
The reply was instantaneous. He hoped he hadn't kept Mr. Stark waiting.
Petor Parkour: ‘A gift for the lovely lady. see u tmmrw!’ read 11:49 pm
Mr. Snark: ‘Better not be tryna steal my girl, Mr. Parker.’ read 11:50 pm
Tony stared at the little word ‘read 11:50 pm’ next to his own most recent text. It had been a few minutes, and it seemed clear Peter wasn't going to text back.
The notion wasn't inherently strange, it seemed to be a trend among teenagers to end conversations by simply not responding or hanging up, which Peter did occasionally with no malicious intent.
But this? This time felt wrong-ish. The lack of snarky reply was really getting to him, for some reason.
Tony knew the message had not been misinterpreted, as it was a recycled joke.
But, it was the perfect moment for Peter to reply with an egotistical dramatic claim, alongside one of those strangely typed emoticons. Like, he can literally invision it:
Petor Parkour: ‘Simply cant help how helplessly charming i am,¯\_(͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)_/¯ Mr. Stark'
Maybe he was being paranoid, or just bored and philosophical and looking too far into something so simple. That's what Virginia would say.
So instead, he clicked off his phone and placed it face down on the nightstand, curling up to his softly sleeping girlfriend.
Tony elected to ignore the urge to call since he'd probably only succeed in bothering Peter, to check up on him. It was likely nothing anyway.