IronDad/SpiderSon One-shots

"On a scale of one to ten..."

Third Person POV:
Word Count: 2,899
Spooktober Day Six: Crimson
Trigger Warning: Mentions of stabbing, Mentions of blood, Mentions of violence, Mentions of death, Mentions of stitches (this makes it seem a lot worse than it actually is lmaoo)

Shit. Peter was in trouble. Not in, you're so grounded trouble. More like, you could literally die if you blow this off trouble. And, surprisingly, it wasn't even completely his fault. That's a lie. It was definitely partially his fault. Maybe. He didn't want to get into it.

He pushed his hand around the wound in his stomach, trying to stop the crimson-coloured liquid from bleeding out of him. He squinted his eyes as he leaned his head back, trying to focus on deep breaths. He paused for a second, waiting for Karen's voice to ring through his ears, asking him if he wanted to call Tony or Happy, but that didn't happen. He wasn't wearing his suit. Shit.

He completely forgot—for a split second—that this hadn't happened when he was fighting crime in his red and blue onesie. No, this happened as a normal civilian. That was odd for Peter. He'd only been on the saving end, not on the end where he needed to be saved.

(Peter had been walking the street, coming back from a lego building session with Ned when the hairs on his arm stood up. He was immediately grabbed and shoved down an alleyway and was demanded of all his possession. All the meanwhile, a knife was being pointed at his face.

This just made Peter chuckle and he immediately took action, fighting the man that grabbed him. He wouldn't be able to web him up or anything, but he was able to knock the guy out after a few punches. Easy as pie.

Too easy, apparently, because a split second later he was spinning around to be met with two other guys. Just great. Peter could do two on one easily. But, he was definitely missing a helpful factor here. He'd never complain about his webs again.

About halfway into the fight with the other two men, the guy he'd already knocked out started to come back into the real world. It made Peter groan. He could take it, right? He could take three people.

Maybe any other day he could, but suddenly, being taken by three people—all holding knives and no way to really "prevent" them from getting them—he was starting to doubt.

He almost did it. He almost had it done. Two of the men were knocked out, leaving only one to remain standing. After a punch to the face and a push into the wall, the guy seemed to be done. Done enough for Peter to at least leave and make sure he was out of danger. And that's exactly what he did. Well, what he tried to do.

Right as he was out of the alley, he was yanked back down. His senses were going nuts and his head was spinning, which made it awfully hard to concentrate on the task at hand. Maybe that's what led for his nanosecond to late doge when the man stabbed him. And he absolutely did the wrong thing, pulling himself away from the man and dislodging the knife from him. Just great.

Still, Peter took the split second of shock that the man was experiencing from stabbing Peter to knock him out. Then, he got the hell out of there.)

Peter was now a few blocks down and fishing his phone from his pocket with the hand that wasn't pressing on his stomach. It took a few seconds to grab his phone, his fingers not wanting to work. When he finally got ahold of it, he quickly opened it and paused, looking at the list of his contacts.

What was he supposed to say? "Hey. So, funny story, I got stabbed when I wasn't patrolling and now I'm bleeding out in the middle of Queens. Wanna come pick me up so I can get medical help? Thanks!" If he said that to May, she'd never let him out of the house—especially since Ben. Ned would lose his shit and insist that his Lola would drive him home from then on. M.J. might be a little cool about it, but she'd most definitely tell May, Ned and probably even Tony.