Chapter Text
2:00 AM
The bright, white hospital lights were blaring, and the crowd was all too loud. You’d almost forget it was so late at night.
Mary Jane sat in the cold, hard, metal hospital waiting chair, head pounding, legs bouncing up and down as she tries to calm down. Today was a rough night.
“Miss Watson?” The tired nurse looked down at her, nodding.
“He’s alright?” She snaps out of her haze, looking up at her. The nurse nods again.
“You can go see him. He’s been asking for you.”
She wastes no time in getting up, slinging her bag around her shoulder, the keys attached to it jingling.
The door gently creaks as she peers in. Peter was rested on the hard hospital bed, looking disheveled. He looks to the door, face lighting up.
“Can I come in?” She gently taps on the doorknob with the tips of her nails.
He nods. “Is Aunt May here?”
She slowly steps in. “Well, she was..” She trails off. “..Then she left. It’s quite late, you know?”
“What time is it?” He straightens up, his hair poking in all different directions due to the staticky pillows.
“Uh.. a little past 2 in the morning… I think.” She flashes a gruff smile, leaning onto the wall beside him.
He lays back down.
“So.. what’d she say..?” He chuckled.
“Oh she’s gonna kill you. Be warned for that. She’s definitely glad you’re safe though, I’ll tell you that.” She flashed him a warm smile.
He grinned back to her.
“Hey, you forgot your glasses.”
“I never really asked, are you alright? Well, of course you’re not alright, you’re in a hospital bed, but—“
“Hey, calm down. I’m fine. I promise.” He chuckled.
“Okay, okay, sorry!” She smiled.
A stretch of comfortable silence spanned between them, spare for the beeping of the heart monitor.
“Can I see..?” She asks. He nods, extending her arm out for him.
“They gave me a couple stitches on my eyebrow.”
He looks back to his wrist. “And they said this was a distal radius fracture. I don’t know what that means.”
She gently holds his hand, examining it.
“That just means your wrist is broken. When can you leave?” She looks back up at him, never really dropping his hand.
“Tomorrow morning. Although it is basically morning right now.” He chuckled.
“Oh, that’s great.” She smiles, and sits down at the edge of the bed. She gently rubs the soft, white cast.
“Do you remember that one time you broke your arm all those years ago?” She taps her leg against the shiny white tile of the floor.
“You really have a habit of doing that.” He looks down to her leg. “Yeah, I do. That one time you drew Frankenstein’s stitches despite you knowing I had a genuine fear of that movie.”
She pulls out the pen rested on her coat, the one which she uses for taking notes while volunteering at Bowery Welfare.
“It’s time for me to do that again.”