Peter Parker x Reader

'Diagnosis Ouchies?'

A/N- All credit goes to the writer webslingingslasher on Tumbler

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/715050984198553600/hey-babe-i-loveeee-your-writing-like-i-binge-read

Pairings ---> Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: Peter being mad at you for getting hurt on a mission.

Warnings- Broken body(eh, semi-broken), cute fluffiness.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Your eyes burned.

You weren't sure if it was from tiredness or the tears you were blinking back, it could've been a combination of both, but it felt more like tears of rage, maybe that's why they burned.

You were hurt.

You were the one that got hurt and your boyfriend should be there for you but he's not, he's too upset at you getting hurt to be there for you while you were hurt, makes sense, right? You had assumed the rule in a relationship was that no matter how upset, if one person got hurt the other would be there. You had assumed wrong.

So, you were in the medical wing in the tower with a hurt arm, skinned knee and a fat bruised ego. All while blinking back tears, half because you're scared, half because you want peter but you feel like he's punishing you with his absence.

Your dad rushed through the doors to your side, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, you lent into his hold, you wished your boyfriend was here.

"How pissed is he?"

Tony has a flashback to five minutes ago in the kitchen, peter's body paced up and down the side of a counter, his thoughts spinning and spitting out as fast as they came. Mostly rants about how you don't listen and he can finally sympathize with tony on that subject.

"He had some opinions."

You groan and wince in the fluorescent lighting, you were dead set in your tracks, you swore up and down that you did the right thing but now you start to understand peter's side, suddenly you're not so sure you understand your side anymore.

"Do you think you can convince him to come down here?"

Your father hummed, "give me a few minutes, honey. I'll send him down." He landed one last kiss to your hairline and retreated upstairs, your gut swimming in nerves for when you see him, his words of frustration left with you from the quinjet.

You held your eyes closed and listened to the buzz of the lights. Your head throbbed and so did your shoulder, the medicine not yet taking hold. Your arm was now tugged into your chest from a sling, and your knee was wrapped in gauze.

A throat clears, you peek your eyes open. It's your boyfriend.

You wanted to be upset but all you felt was relief, suddenly everything felt okay.

Peter frowns looking at your patched up body, he sports his own graze across his cheek, the rest of him seems okay from his house clothes, his arms clean and legs hidden in sweatpants.

"How you feeling, trouble?"

You pout, "hurties."

His fingers tickle your good knee, "diagnosis ouchies?" You try to laugh but quickly groan, the movement pounds in your mind.

"Dislocated shoulder, skinned knee and big bruised ego."

"What about the concussion?"

You raise a finger in agreement, "I keep forgetting about that."

It was a hard fall, peter had his back turned and explicitly told you not to do what you did because you'd get hurt, sure enough you still dove and fell flat, by the time he noticed it was too late to shoot a web at you, he had to watch you hit the ground and he wanted to feel bad but annoyance seeped through, he told you not to do it and you never listen, now you're hurt.

Peter doesn't want to berate you when you're hurt but he just can't understand why you didn't listen to him, and it wasn't about something petty, it was about your safety and you didn't listen and you got hurt and he hates when you get hurt.

He lets out a sigh, you know what that means.

"Baby... why would you do that?"

You try to shrug, peter places his hand on your wrap to stop you.

"You're always the hero, I wanted to try it out."

"There's a reason I usually am, trouble. I can handle getting hurt in a different way, you have glass bones and paper skin." Peter gives you a small grin, he doesn't mean harm by his words and you understand what he means.

"I know but sometimes it feels like you have to make up things for me to do so I feel useful. Like, sometimes I just watch you when we're on a mission and I feel like I'm the kid kicking rocks in the corner."

Peter makes an error sound, "wrong. I can't shoot lasers or fire, but you can. I need you to open like, every steel door we come across. And you can crack codes and locks quicker than me, I don't make up tasks for you to do. It might feel useless but I promise it makes me focus on the dangerous stuff better, that way I can protect you while you do the real important stuff."

The medicine took effect, your body felt like jelly and peter had a real kissable mouth.

"You're handsome, you know that?"

A small frown pulls at peter's mouth, the back of his hand rests on your forehead, "concussion hitting?"

You shake your head and sigh happily, you grab his hand and kiss the back of it, "morphine."

"I don't want you getting hurt, next time may be worse."

"I liked it better when you said you were protecting me."

He looks offended, "I do."

"And that's adorable. Wanna make out?"

You pull yourself up on your good elbow, peter bites back a laugh.

"Promise me you'll listen to me when I say you'll get hurt and you'll get a kiss."

A wide grin spreads, "deal."