IronDad/SpiderSon One-shots

Too late?

Third Person POV:

Trigger warning: G*ns/violence/almost death/blood description
Word Count: 929
Spooktober 2022 Day Thirteen: Early Grave

"NO," Peter screamed, webbing the guy against the wall as fast as he could. He was just a millisecond too late, the gun had gone off. Peter didn't have time to think about what he was doing. He just jumped as fast as he could.

The pain wasn't immediate. He felt the bullet lodge into his chest, but he didn't feel any sort of pain. As the boy he pushed out of the way fell to the ground, Peter spun around to web the man that just shot the gun to the wall. He webbed the gun out of his hands, bringing it to himself. He dropped the clip out of the gun, popped the bullet in the chamber out, and dropped the gun. He kicked the clip as far away as he could from the criminal and himself.

Peter could feel his suit front soaking with blood. That's never a good sign. Still, there wasn't much pain. That was, until he turned towards the boy he had been saving. A sudden white, hot pain ran through Peter's entire body and he fell to the ground like he had just been shocked. "Shit," he cursed with clenched teeth. He definitely felt the pain now.

Immediately, Peter knew that it was too late. He knew that there wouldn't be a big rescue this time. He knew that no one would make it in time. Not even emergency services. He could feel the blood seeping too quickly. The pain was so intense he felt like he was going to die within seconds.

"Oh my god. Oh my god," the boy said. He rushed over to Peter, who was already feeling the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. "What do I do? How do I help? Oh, god, this is all my fault. Spider-Man is going to die because of me." The boy had tears falling down his face quickly. "I'm so, so sorry," he said before letting out a harsh sob.

Taking a shallow breath in, Peter shook his head. "No, no. This isn't your fault. Not even close to being your fault." He coughed, choking on the blood that was pooling into his mouth. He didn't really know where it was coming from, but that was never, ever, a good sign. He reached up for his mask, gently lifting it up above his mouth so he could spit some of the blood out.

"Your injuries appear to be life threatening. Alerting emergency services, surrounding hospitals, and your guardians," Karen's voice echoed through his mask. He couldn't respond. He didn't even know what to say. He couldn't tell Karen to stop them all because no one would get here in time.

The boy was still clearly upset. He had taken off the sweatshirt he wore and pressed it into Peter's chest, ignoring the groan that came from Peter. "This is what they do in movies, right? This is how they stop the bleeding." He wasn't pressing hard enough to cause Peter pain, but he was doing his best to keep the blood flowing out of Peter at a minimum.

Peter glanced up at the criminal he webbed to the wall. He was just watching, his eyes wide open. He saw regret on his face as he stared. Good. He should regret what he did. New York City was about to lose their mightiest hero because of him.

"Incoming call from May Parker." Karen was still in his ear, but she was starting to lose the loudness she typically had.

Not saying anything to Karen, Peter reached out and grabbed the boy's arm. "Go get yourself safe," he said in a faint whisper.

The boy started shaking his head so fast Peter was afraid he was going to make himself dizzy. "No. No, I can't do that." He frantically pressed his sweatshirt into Peter's chest. "You just saved my life. It's time I do the same for you."

With a small smile, Peter blinked slowly. That was nice of him, but it wouldn't help. Peter had accepted the fact that he was meeting his death tonight. Well, part of him had. He wasn't really with it. If he was, he might not have been giving in so easily to the thought of dying. He would be fighting to stay for the ones he loved; he would be fighting to stay for the ones that loved him. But he wasn't with it, though. He wasn't all there. He was just in copious amounts of pain and was entering a state of shock.

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

Still, Peter said nothing. Since it was Tony calling, Karen immediately answered after letting Peter know that he was calling. "Kid? Kid, are you there? Are you hurt?"

No response left Peter. It was pointless to talk, since his mask wasn't fully on. Even on top of that, Peter wasn't sure he could talk if he tried. He wasn't sure he could open his mouth and form coherent sentences or words. Everything felt so heavy and tired.

"Shit." The call ended after that. Nothing else to report.

The boy kept pressing his sweatshirt into Peter's chest. "Don't fall asleep. They say not to do that on T.V. too." The boy glanced around at his surroundings before resuming his work. He was terrified. He was scared. He was the exact opposite of Peter.

Peter was about out when he heard the familiar sound of repulsors. The metal suit clanking onto the ground followed short after.

Maybe Peter wouldn't meet his early grave today after all.

A/n: I was really struggling writing today, so I kind of left the ending up for you. However you want to imagine it, let it be that. I hope you guys don't mind that :)
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