Peter and New York

Annoying Little Boy

The one where Happy ignores Peter. It was a mistake.
Trigger warning for blood, gore, violence, abuse, and angst. There is no happy ending. I'm sad, so I'm putting it on you. 😐

"Only alert me of the calls that are important." Happy had told Friday.

That's was a mistake.

Peter had taken it too far. He laid on the ground of a cold ally, his fingers dripping with blood—was it his? Maybe. He shivered when a breeze blew over his form and the man in black ran off.

He had been shot, Peter bitterly realized. His shoulder and legs ached in the places the bullets slammed through. They went out the other side so at lest he didn't have to take them out with his rusty tweezers.

Yeah, at least.

"Karen?" He asked quietly, hoping the robot would hear him.

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can you tell Happy not to worry but I might need help. It's not an emergency but I feel like he'd want to know."

"Okay then." And that was it.

Karen talked with Friday who decided that it wasn't important. After all, Peter said not to worry, and, it wasn't an emergency.

So Peter laid in that alleyway for three hours. He swirled in and out of consciousness but was never fully awake to begin with.

That was the first time Peter told himself to never bother Happy again as long as he could.

When the wounds healed, they made large blotchy scars. Like those paintings that psychiatrists ask you to look at. He didn't mind. They reminded him to not bother anyone with his problems.

Another time he was protecting a little girl from her dad who chased after her with a knife.

He webbed the man up, but it was too late, as he went down, the knife hit his daughter square in her chest and she laid on the floor drowning in her own blood.

Peter had to give a statement to the police and cried in the middle of it. He sobbed in front of the officers who looked at him with sympathy but didn't offer their help or condolences.

He didn't swing home that night.

He sluggishly tromped to Ben's grave after getting changed and curled around the cold stone.

"Ben... Ben... Ben..." he sobbed and sobbed, watering the grass below with his tears. "I couldn't," he wailed loudly, "I couldn't save her!!" He pushed his nails into his stomach and cried again.

After time passed he pulled out his phone and shakily dialed Happy's number against his better judgment.

"You have reached the voicemail of, 'Happy Hogan'." It beeped loudly in his ear and he sobbed into the microphone.

"Hi, Happy, I couldn't save a little girl today. I'm fine. There's no need to worry. I'd just thought I'd let you know that I'm haunted by the sounds of her choking on her own blood as she died in front of me. No big deal. I'm sorry for calling. I'm not in an emergency. I'm fine."

"I'm fine."

It beeped again signaling that the message was too long and hung up on Peter.

Happy didn't receive that message. Friday figured it wasn't an emergency. Peter even said so.

He said so.

Another mistake was when Peter called in the middle of the night.

"Happy? Happy? I can't deal with it anymore. May's dead. She has been for a week. If Stark couldn't figure it out then I guess he doesn't care. I'm scared of my reflection in the mirror. There's no more food and anything I've eaten my body has used up instantly. I was put into the foster care system four days ago. My family is not great but y'know at least I have a comfy closet floor to sleep on. Anyway. I'm not in an emergency. Don't worry about me. Please. I think this is my last call to you. I guess I'll see you on the flip side."