spideypool oneshots

bloody floor

Fluff + a tad bit of angst

Summary:

sometimes messing with a drug ring gets you shot, and peter only has one specific person for this occasion. but wade seemed a bit off the last time they talked...

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Spider-Man dropped into the alleyway, losing his balance. He had just busted another drug ring, barely managing to make it back. Peter had to stop and catch his breath.

"Shit!" He rasped, barely making the words out. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" He planted both of his hands over his left abdomen. Peter groaned, feeling the hole in his suit where the bullet had made contact. He hadn't gotten far from the warehouse before he lost his breath.

Now, Peter has to spend a couple of days stitching up his suit, not that he was worried about his current injury or anything.

Peter breathed in and out aggressively. He clutched at his side, falling against the wall. He pressed into his wound, trying to get it to stop bleeding. His suit was torn where the bullet had gone through.

"God." Peter gasped, his hands slippery with his blood. He stood against the alleyway, chest puffing as he thought about his next move.

He could make it back to his apartment and stitch himself up. His healing factor could do the rest. Probably.

"Okay." Peter took in a deep breath, groaning as his side felt like it was ripping open. He didn't have anything to stop the bleeding, which limited his time to get back to his apartment. "Okay." He repeated, getting ready to start swinging again.

The hero squatted and shot a web up to the building. "I can do this." Peter mumbled, taking in his surroundings. The sun was setting soon.

Peter flew across the city, one hand shaking over his side. He tried not to twist too much. The pain could easily make him fall to his death.

He suddenly missed his opening and started falling. Peter's other hand flew up to shoot a web. He screamed out as his side protested. The spider caught himself on the side of the building. His entire body shook as he planted his feet onto the brick. He caught his breath and made it to the rooftop.

The hero felt a wave of tiredness hit his body. "Okay." He said out loud, lying down on the rooftop. The sky was so pretty at sundown. "I'll just take another break."

He tried to labor his breathing. Peter gasped out, seeing all of the blood on his suit. His suit might as well have been solid red. He whined, trying to roll over. Another wave of pain hit him. The hero caught himself with his hand, sitting up.

"Jesus, why can't I make it home?" Peter groaned, audibly. His apartment was so close.

He gagged as he felt the bullet wound. His skin had been burned through, leaving nothing. Peter thought long and hard. Could he even stitch himself up when he was so tired? If he collapsed now, he'd surely die from blood loss. The only positive thing was the bullet hadn't scraped any of his internal organs.