Peter Parker and Tony Stark Whump Shots

Bleeding Out

(Tony is still alive and Peter is just an intern, not Spider-Man, but they're still super close.)

As the lights spin and the room begins to close in on him, Peter starts to think that maybe taking the internship was a bad idea. And when his vision gets less blurry and he can see the situation he's in, he knows, it was definitely a bad idea.
He's in a dark room, sitting up on a mattress with his back to the wall. His arms are hanging from chains, with his elbows bent at a 90 degree angle. His legs are free, but the metal that's suspending his wrists is too strong to even think about an escape.
Twenty minutes go by, and Peter was completely coherent and aware of his surroundings now. He was feeling better, less groggy at least. He's already tried shouting, tried struggling, nothing seems to get anyone's attention.
After about five minutes, he realises that wanting someone to come in was a bad mistake. The door opens, and the light from the other room lights up his. There's not much to see though, just the raggedy mattress and stained walls.
The person who walks in is wearing all black, a young white man with a stoic expression. His blonde hair falls over his eyes, in fact, he looked too attractive to be a bad guy. Neither of them speak, Peter just watches the man stare at him. That is until he pulls out a small, sharp knife. Really sharp.
"Wait. Wait! Stop!" The kid cries desperately, the tears getting more difficult to hold back.
"Be quiet." The man says, he's so calm it's almost scary. "It's not time yet."
He's twirling the knife through his fingers, careful of the blade.
"What? What does that mean? Time for what?" Peter mumbles, he knows that his fear is making him ramble but he can't do anything about it.
"I already told you to be quiet." The man replies, just as calmly as before. He takes out his phone and checks the time. And then he nods. "Time."
He holds the phone to his ear, no change in his expression as he begins to talk. "You know what to do now, you have about twenty minutes."
Despite how far Peter is from the actual phone, he can hear someone angry on the other side of the call. But he doesn't have enough time to recognise the voice before the man starts to walk towards him, brandishing the knife.
"No. No, please. Don't do this. Don't." The kid begs, pulling at the chains and kicking his feet, making any movement he can to try and prevent whatever he's about to do.
"Don't worry, you won't die, if Stark cooperates, that is." And this is the first time his face changes, a horrible grin plastered across his face. He moves down beside Peter, and puts his knee on top of his legs to stop him from kicking at him.
The kids stopped forming full sentences, he's never been so afraid in his entire life. A string of pleads and begs leaving his mouth uncontrollably. The man leans across and holds Peter's arm, moving the chain so that he has a clear vision of his wrist.
The rest happens too quickly for Peter's mind to register, a hand covers his mouth and an unbearable pain in his arm. It's over before he can make sense of what happened. The man simply stands up, and leaves the room without looking back.
The next thirty seconds feel like years, the kid turns to face his injury, watching as blood pours down his arm like a fountain. He cut a vein. He would bleed out in the next ten minutes or so. The dizziness in his head distracts him from the pain, so much so that he almost can't process what happened. Too much blood loss is deadly. He leans his head against the wall, taking shallow breaths as he feels the blood fall from his arm and onto the mattress beneath him. He closes his eyes for a brief second before realising that he was dying. If his eyes close they may never open again.
He can't hear his own voice, can't think, can't hold his own head up anymore. Worst of all, he can't stay awake. Fuzziness turns to darkness in a matter of seconds, and suddenly, lights out.
The sounds of sirens is the first thing that he hears, followed by muffled voices and metallic sounds. Peter can't open his eyes yet, but from what he can tell, he's in an ambulance. After a while, the noises change, the sirens stop. It's replaced with a familiar voice, one that made the kid want to cry. Tony was here.
He opens his eyes slightly, and after they adjust to the light in the room, he looks around slowly. There's wires and IV bags surrounding the hospital bed he's lying on, a TV in the corner of the room. And sitting next to him, on a comfortable chair, is his favourite person in the world.
"Hi." He whispers, voice shaky but he's overcome with relief.
"Hi kid." Tony stands up and moves closer to him, he speaks softly to him. "I was worried about you. How are you feeling?"
"I... I think I'm okay. Can't feel anything." He replies, looking down to see his arm has already been bandaged up.
"They gave you some stitches but you're gonna be just fine. Gave me a scare, walking into that room and seeing you sitting there in a pool of blood." Tony sighs, and although he hasn't said anything, his eyes are filled with guilt, and Peter knows he's blaming himself for this.
"What happened?"
Tony takes a minute to collect himself before explaining. "This group, I don't know much about them. They called me and told me that I had to send them ten million dollars or they'd kill me. I said no, of course. So instead they took you and told me that I had twenty minutes to give the money to them. After I did it, they told me where you were and gave me the keys to the chains."
Peter's star struck, he can't believe what he's hearing. "You... You paid ten million dollars to save me?"
"Well yeah, it's not much out of my fortune and I couldn't let you die. I would miss you too much." Tony smiles, putting his hand on Peter's arm.
This was the first time Peter had truly realised how close they were. Tony gave up millions for him. And he sat with him while he was in the hospital. Maybe they weren't related, but they were becoming family anyways.