IronDad/SpiderSon One-shots

sometimes it's hard to wake up (the before)

Third Person POV:
Word Count: 2,082
Trigger Warning: Mentions of injury
Spooktober 2022 Day Twenty-Four: Mask

"Fuck," Peter cursed. He was backing away from the alien as fast as he could, trying not to wince in pain as he did. There wasn't anyone else around him to help him out. He was still trying to figure out the whole 'team dynamic' thing. Obviously he knew how to work in teams. That's what gym class and group projects were for. But, in the fighting setting, he was still working on it. Even in training, he found himself secluding himself from the group to go off and do his own thing. It wasn't ideal, but it is what he knew. It's how he operated.

So, it figured when an actual battle came, he did the same thing. He went off to do his own thing. Kind of. He was still close to people. Really, he could ask for some help and they'd be there within seconds, but he was Peter Parker. He'd have to be seconds away from dying before asking for help on his own terms.

Things started out really good, actually. He took down a platoon of aliens without much problem. He helped escort some civilians to safety before taking on another platoon. This one was harder to handle, especially because they were better weaponed, but Peter was still able to take them down. He just got bonked and banged and tossed around a little. Nothing he couldn't handle. At least, that is what he told himself. He was Spider-Man, after all.

It was the third platoon that was hurting him. He was struggling. The last guys had swords and stuff, but these guys had not only swords but also some guns. Weird, not like earth alien guns. They reminded him of the alien tech that Toomes was selling. He knew how dangerous those weapons were. He couldn't imagine how dangerous these ones were. He might have been intrigued by the whole phenomenon of it if it weren't for the aliens shooting the guns at him.

That's why Peter swore. His senses were starting to go haywire, warning him of the danger surrounding him, and he missed the reaction of one of their shots. Getting shot with their gun didn't hurt at first. It was exactly two seconds after that this antagonizing fire feeling started to spread through his shoulder. He gritted his teeth. "Fucking hell." He had to get away from these aliens so he could analyze the damage.

The comms in his ear made him jump, forgetting that he was connected. "Kid, you okay over there?" Of course it was Tony that was going to respond first. Peter was his kid. The rest of the team cared for him, but it was always Tony that was the first to respond. "Those are some pretty big words for a literal child to be saying."

Peter could hear the distraction in Tony's voice. It wasn't that he didn't care about Peter's response. He was distracted because it wasn't just Peter fighting aliens. It was literally half of the Avengers. Steve, Sam, Clint, Natasha, Wanda, Rhodey, and Tony were there fighting with Peter. The rest of the Avengers should, hopefully, be on their way. Except Bruce. He was staying away from the fight, not wanting to turn green. He said he would join if it was an emergency, but he was on medical standby. This mission was particularly risky and they didn't want to risk anyone being hurt and not being able to get medical attention. They had learned their lesson with the people on the team now having permanent damage due to not getting medical help in time.

Suppressing a grunt, he shot a web grenade towards the aliens. He watched as the sticky substance of his webs covered the alien army, preventing them from being able to move. They were angrily gesturing at Peter and speaking whatever their alien language was before Peter started walking away. "Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'm fine. Just overwhelmed for a sec." That was a bullshit lie. He was in agony to the point of where he was limping. He got shot in the shoulder and he was limping. It didn't make sense to him either, but his entire right side felt like it had just burst into flames and was being ripped away from his body.