Spider Parker

*Injured

Most nights now were the same. I sat on my balcony, wrapped in his sweatshirt, waiting for him to come tell me he was okay. Or even signal from the other rooftop- a text- anything to let me know he hadn't died.

Tonight was different.

He didn't show up.

Hours passed by and at first, I wasn't nervous. Peter Parker- my best friend of three years- had never been on time once in his life. But by two in the morning, I was struggling to stay seated. 

I glanced at my phone. Maybe one call couldn't hurt. Maybe he had just forgotten.

I reached forward-

No.

"If I don't come back," Peter tilted his head to make sure I was listening to him, "Don't call my phone. Don't call May. The last thing I want is for whoever might hurt me to see your picture. Promise me?"

"Promise," I nodded nervously.

"Promise," I mumbled and tugged the sleeves of his sweatshirt over my hands. I bit my cheek and looked at the time again. 2:01.

My phone scanned my thumbprint and opened to my home screen- a picture of Peter and I on our first day of high school. A small smile stretched across my face until I opened the News app. Spider-Man was on every headline.

'Fight with 'The Shocker' Gone Wrong'

'Spider-Man- dead or alive?'

'City Hero Goes Down'

My thumb scrolled down the list, not a single one confirming whether Peter was okay or not. I could only assume the worst and my hand covered my mouth in shock.

A crash sounded in front of me before I could even process what- or who- it was.

"Oh my-" I forced myself forward and grabbed his arm to help him over the railing. Pulling back, my hand was covered in his blood, "No, no, no- are you- are you dying?"

"No," Peter laughed in pain. He tumbled down into my arms. 

"Peter," I spoke worriedly, "Just- just stay here, okay? I'm gonna go find some- uh- Neosporin. And band-aids. Lots of band-aids." 

I crawled back into my window, extremely cautious to avoid getting blood on anything. How could I explain that to my parents?

My bathroom's medicine cabinet had a small box of colorful, planet themed band-aids and a tube of Neosporin. I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol too. 

Better safe than sorry.

I flushed the toilet just in case my parents were listening and crept back into my room, shutting the door behind me. Grabbing a clean towel from my easel was the last step before I made my way back to Peter.

"Okay," I breathed and climbed back out to the balcony, "I don't entirely know what to do. Health class doesn't exactly teach how to heal... this."

Peter was laying against the rail with a hand pressed to his side.

"I'm serious about the not dying thing," I knelt down and held the cloth to clean up the blood.

"It was insane," Peter started. I raised an eyebrow and continued to try to help the best I could.

"What happened?" I asked when he didn't continue.

"Oh," he looked out into the alley, "Well you know those guys that tried to kill me sophomore year?"

"The one's with Liz's dad?" I didn't look up when I asked. 

"Yeah, them," he nodded, "Apparently one of them got out of jail. Usually I would've been able to take him out easy, but then I was- um- thinking. I kinda got distracted, I guess."

"Kinda?" I scoffed, "You could have died, Peter."

"I know," he sighed and looked down at his torn suit, "Look, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," I tried to put on a band-aid, even though it was much smaller that the actual cut, "You're a hero. You don't have to apologize for almost dying. Just be more careful, alright?"

"Yeah," he smiled. My eyebrows twitched down.

"How are you smiling right now?" I shook my head.

"You're really pretty," he smiled wider. I smiled back.

"Yeah?" my cheeks grew warmer.

"Mhm," he hummed.

I laughed and pulled him to his feet. Luckily, his wounds were healing incredibly fast. Must be part of the whole spider deal, "What were you so distracted by anyways?" 

"Oh," Peter's eyes widened in realization, "Nothing."

"It's clearly something," I crossed my arms and stared. Peter sighed and took one of my hands.

"We've been friends for a really long time-"

"Since our awkward phase," I agreed. Peter chuckled.

"Exactly. And if we could make it through our awkward phase, I don't know," Peter lost his confidence with a shrug.

"Are you-" I stopped myself from making assumptions. If I thought Peter was going to ask me out and he wasn't, I would have to move states. Maybe even countries. 

"Do you- um, maybe," Peter scrunched his nose as he stuttered, "Maybe wanna go on a date with me?"

"I'd love to," my pulse quickened and I grew self-conscious of our touching hands.

"R-really?" he stuttered again.

"Definitely."