Spiderkid oneshots

Skiing gone wrong.

The ground was covered in a sparkling, white blanket. Flakes were falling slowly from the sky. The trees were a green and white mash as Peter shot past them. The snowflakes were hitting the boy's face painfully and the otherwise soft snowdrifts were almost turned to ice, with ski marks all over them. The adrenalin flowing in his veins made him laugh out. He knew he would win. There was no way Tony could get down the mountain faster. On both sides of the mountain, there were almost identical tracks and Tony and Peter had decided to compete, to see who could get down quicker.

"Claire, Pat, please, lay on your stomachs and crawl to me, the ice is going to break otherwise, please, I'm begging you." Peter heard a clear woman's voice, with his super-hearing. Instinctively the boy turned in the direction of the sound, following it through the half skiing track half footsteps of hikers.

When he got to the source of the voice he saw a beautiful lake, with what seemed to be a thick layer of ice over it. But it wasn't all that thick. It was cracking and two kids were cluelessly playing and jumping on it. Peter as quickly as possible took his skis off and walked forward to the lake.

"Don't worry ma'am, I'm going to do everything in my power to get them to you safely!" He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes which were filled with worry. The woman nodded.

Peter got on all fours and half slid half crawled watching the small to a human eye invisible cracks appearing with every movement he made. When he got to the kids, he felt like his feet would fall off every second, for how cold they were but there was sweat dripping down his head.

"Hello, my name is Peter." He introduced himself.

"Hi, Peter!" The older girl who looked about 8 responded.

"What are your names?"

"I'm Patricia," the same girl said, "and this is my little sister Claire!"

"Nice to meet you!" He smiled, trying to ignore the sound which the ice was making while cracking. "Do you want to play a game?"

"Yes!"

"Alright, you have to lie down on your stomach, then I will push you forward. Then you have to make it to your mom as fast as you can without lifting your stomach from the ground." How does that sound?" He really had no plan B so the boy hoped they liked the idea.

"Easy!" Patricia said, while her little sister squeaked, "Fun!"

"Alright, then lay on your stomachs," the kids luckily complied.

"Remember, don't get up and get to your mommy! First Claire. 3, 2, 1, go!" And he pushed the girl by her feet, "Now, you, Patricia. 3, 2, 1, go!" He repeated the action.

The cracking was getting louder to Peter's extra heightened senses. He tried to move forward on his stomach while watching the girls get hugged by their mom. But it was too late. The ice under him opened like a black hole and swallowed him.

It was cold, not like walking out without glows and touching snow cold. This was the kind that felt like a thousand needles, swords, and knives were pushed through his entire body at the same time. The thick layer of clothes he had worn was dragging him down, not allowing him to move. The water was filling his nose and mouth. His hands were trashing, but he didn't know which way was up, there was no direction everything was dark. Attempts not to let water in his throat were failing. His lungs were filling with water, burning. Everything else hurt, it was freezing, he was suffocating. He tried to breathe in but there was only water, then his body automatically coughed to get the water out, but it was impossible. His tears were mixing with the water around him. So, cold. So much pain. And then he passed out.

Loud noises, something plastic put on his face, lights, way too bright. Then darkness again.

Beep. BeEP. BEEP. Peter's eyes shot wide open, and his body quickly began panicking. There was a tube, that was helping him breathe attached to his face. He yanked it off. Somebody trying to hold him down. The boy was too strong for them and trashed up. Running to the other end of the room, waiting for something to happen. His mind and vision were blurry. He didn't remember how he had gotten here. The lights were too bright. Getting up had been more difficult than he expected. His chest was rising and falling quickly, with the loud breaths.

"Peter, please, calm down," unfamiliar voice, "You fell into a lake. You almost froze to death. The fact that you're alive is a miracle. You need to lay down. We have more tests to run."

The memories started gushing like a waterfall, like someone had shaken the ketchup bottle too much. Skiing. Voice. Lake. Kids.

"Wha - what - Are those girls alright?" The boy was still panting.

"Yes, they are alright, totally fine, they are waiting to see you, and so is Mr. Stark. Now, please lay down." This time he tried to follow the directions, but suddenly his knees couldn't hold the weight of his body. It was dark again.

Beep. BeEP. BEEP. This time the boy knew where he was and unwillingly opened his eyes to see his dad looking at him worriedly.

"Hey, dad," He smiled weakly. The adrenalin was gone and now he felt how everything hurt.

"Hi, Pete," The man also smiled.

"How long was I out for?"

"Two years," Tony said with a sad and serious tone.

"What?" The boy almost shouted, which made his truth hurt and he coughed.

"I'm kidding," The man said like it was obvious to somebody who just regained consciousness, "Less than two days."

A loud sigh escaped Peter's mouth.

"The girls had to leave, but they made you this drawing," Tony handed him a card which read: 'Thank you, Peter, for saving us. You are very brave. From Patricia and Claire.' In the background, a forest was drawn. Peter smiled again.