Call me Nat.

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A/N

Hi.

I don't know what to say.

i dO nOT oWn tHEsE cHaRaCTeRs

enjoy

✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Natasha's attention was drawn from the trivial meeting to the buzzing phone in her pocket. She excused herself, not admitting aloud that she was glad to be freed from these conversations about some vigilante in Queens.

"It's Peter," She didn't get the chance to speak as the stranger- Peter- continued to speak urgently. "I have been... nicked. By a knife. It's in my stomach. Can you find some information on stitching for me?"

"... so you're saying you've been stabbed."

A sharp inhale could be faintly heard. "This isn't Ned, is it?"

"Close. Call me Nat."

"Uh... you wouldn't happen to know how to stitch up a wound, would you?"

"You're in luck," She deadpanned. "What do you have on hand?"

...

Peter sighed, leaning against the bathroom wall and putting down the needle. He'd had to give himself 6 stitches, which was... less than fun. 

"Thanks, Ms Nat." He reached for the phone, grimacing when he smeared blood across the screen. "Wait... Nat spelled N-A-T, right?"

"How else?" Came the disembodied woman's voice.

"J-just wanted to be sure! I mean, if you were named after a fly, I wouldn't judge."

A tired sigh, though he could hear the hint of a smile. "My name does not start with a G, Peter, no." 

He hummed, switching to his contacts and adding the woman as 'Gnat' before saying, in a sing-song voice, "That's not what my contact says!"

"... you saved my contact?"

"Never know when you'll need a tough fly lady with medical talents. Besides, I have next to no friends."

Another sigh, though the amusement wasn't well hidden. "I need to get back to a meeting now. Stay safe, булочка с корицей."





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