IronDad/SpiderSon One-shots

nothing but content

Third Person POV: 
Word Count: 1,103
A/n: I'm sorry

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
This was a fact. Not an opinion. Not someone just wishing it upon him from somewhere else. Not some fake news. It was real. It was happening. It was happening to him.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
There were times where Peter had been afraid to die. There were times where Peter was scared to die. There were times where the thought of dying made him spiral into a panic attack. He wasn't sure why that wasn't happening now.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
Deep down, Peter knew he should be thinking of the people that loved him. May, Tony, M.J., Ned, Happy, Pepper, Morgan, and so many more. He knew that instead of feeling so content, he should be freaking out and trying to find a way for him to survive.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
Thousands of things that Peter could do with his life flashed through his head. Graduate high school. Go to college. Get a job at Stark Industries. Be an Avenger. Marry M.J.. Have kids. Help them through their first days of school. Help them with their spider powers—because, deep down, he knew that they would—and tell them the story of how he got his. He could watch them graduate high school and go to college. The idea of that made his heart swell, but still he felt content.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
He ignored the buzzing going on around him. He ignored the people screaming and shouting at him. He ignored the fact that his identity could be leaked because of this, still feeling the suit cling to his bloody skin. He ignored everything but the content feeling he felt in his mind.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
There was not a doubt in his mind that his senses had lost their touch. Things he usually could pick up on weren't there. He wasn't seeing right. He couldn't feel the same. Maybe death made his senses lose their touch. Typically, that would scare Peter. It didn't now. He didn't know why.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
It was by pure accident three bullets decided to make their new home in Peter's chest. Accidents could be compared to destiny to some. Peter wasn't thinking like that though. Rather, he was just thinking that if this was fate, then let fate take its course.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
He was slipping. His thoughts were sluggish. He couldn't form a single sentence in his head. Everything felt dead and dull. He felt weightless and tired. There was nothing more to him. He couldn't even really tell that it was happening. It was just happening.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
Since death had been a sensitive subject for him, Peter hadn't really thought of how he was going to die. He didn't give himself to think about the 'what ifs' in his life. If he focused on them, they would consume him. He learned that the hard way. So he didn't think "what if I die today" so often anymore. When he did, he just pushed the thought of death. Now, death was in his face, yet he didn't even blink. It didn't scare him like it had in the past.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
There wasn't time for him to think of the endless possibilities of what he could have done to prevent this. There wasn't time to process that he was dying. There wasn't time to say goodbye to anyone.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
Slipping and slipping. That's all Peter felt. That's all he could realize. If this is what death was, he wasn't sure why he had been so afraid of it in the past.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
There was stuff going on around him. People weren't yelling at him anymore, but there was so much to take in. He couldn't take it in because of the dullness that had settled in on his senses, but he was aware of it. The occasional feeling as if someone was holding his hand or someone was whispering in his ear.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
Would there be Heaven waiting for him? Would there be hell? Another life where he would be able to see his parents and his uncle? Would he feel like he was being suspended in nothing? Would it be like a dreamless sleep that he never woke up from? Purgatory? The Empty? He'd seen that on Supernatural. Who knows, maybe some CW show had it all figured out. Or maybe they didn't. Was there even a God? Were there multiple Gods? Did the Greek and Romans have it figured out?

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
In, out, up and down were all the same to Peter right now. He felt suspended in nothingness. Maybe this was death. Could this be death? No. He was sure it wasn't. The slow drumming of his heart reminded him that he was still, in fact, alive.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
He thought about May smiling at him after bringing home a good grade.
He thought about Tony patting him on the back after he did something incredible in the lab.
He thought about M.J. snuggling into his side as they watched all Netflix had to offer.
He thought about Ned sitting across from him building another LEGO Star Wars set.
He thought about Happy finally opening up to him in a car ride on the way to the Compound.
He thought about Pepper making him a cup of tea to try and help him sleep out at the cabin.
He thought about Morgan forcing him to go to a tea party with a bunch of stuffed bears and bunnies.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
He was ready. He wasn't scared or worried. He wasn't screaming or crying. He wasn't confused or concerned. He was ready. He was welcoming it.

Peter was dying. Yet, he felt so content about it.
"It's okay, bud. You can rest. We'll be okay without you."

Peter was dead. Yet, the whole time he was dying, he was nothing but content. 

That's it for this chapter! Remember to drink some water, eat something, take medicine (if you have to), and rest today. You did a good job and I am proud of you :)
Till next time
- Storm