TELEKINETIC │ p.p

Chapter Twelve

Vanessa woke over a couple hours later to what sounded like grunts and whimpers of pain. "Mr. Stark!" she heard a voice try to shout, but she knew Tony wasn't home. She slipped out of bed, not caring that her body was a bit overexposed to be greeting guests, running down to the main entryway.

"Peter!" she yelped, grabbing him before he fell over. She noticed the blood all over his suit and face, some bits dry and some still damp. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Explain later," he coughed. "Help me, please."

"You're okay, you'll be okay," Vanessa spoke quickly as she continued to carry him toward the place where Tony had done operations at, mostly for his tech but was also where her heart transplant took place. She sat Peter gently down on the table, asking him to remove his suit while she gathered the supplies needed. He nodded slowly, standing carefully.

Vanessa came back, grabbing the antiseptic wipes and cleaning his smaller wounds first before moving to the shallow slashes across his chest, trying to avoid harsh contact with the many large, dark bruises that scattered along his flesh.

"There's... more of them than we thought," he spoke, his voice coarse. His eyelids began to droop, but Vanessa gave his cheek a tiny slap.

"Stay awake, Peter," she spoke, grabbing the peroxide and cloth. "More of them?" she questioned.

"The bad guys," he coughed. Vanessa remained silent, not quite knowing how to respond.

As she dampened the cloth, she warned Peter of the pain that he was about to experience. He didn't react the way she expected him to, but then she remembered who, exactly, she was cleaning up. Again he neared passing out, but Vanessa kept him awake. "I can't do this without you awake, Peter," she encouraged, knowing full well it may be better if he was unconscious so her guilt of potentially hurting him more would go away. "Talk to me, about anything."

"The weekend that we went to the cabin..." Peter muttered, Vanessa surprised he found something to talk about so quick, "... needs to happen again."

She couldn't suppress her smile. "Oh yeah?" Vanessa questioned, continuing to clean his wounds gingerly. "Why's that?"

"More specifically the night we- or more you- got drunk," he sighs, ignoring her question for a second. Then he dove into details, "The starlight spreading across your skin made you look so delicate, in a way similar to a beautifully bloomed rose," Vanessa was flattered, her pink cheeks showing it, "the way you just didn't give a damn about anything that night. The way you... touched me, held my hand-" He paused as Vanessa unintentionally dabbed at the cut on his cheek. She gulped, realizing her timing, keeping her eyes off of his.

"And even though you know I'm Spider-Man and I can easily handle a little peroxide, you still care for me in the gentlest manner," he spoke, gazing up at her. She still didn't return the stare, but wished she had the courage to. "You always do, actually."

"I'm not much of an aggressive person," Vanessa airily chuckles.

"And that's what I really like about you," Peter grunts. "Maybe even love-"

"Can you sit up?" Vanessa asked, not meaning to interrupt him. She thought he was done, and even waited to make sure, ready to ask the question at the same time he started talking again. "Sorry," she replied, referring to her interjection. She helped him sit up, grabbing the gauze and wrapping it around his chest and then his back and back to his chest, repeating until everything was covered properly.

"I thought I wouldn't make it back to you," Peter admitted as Vanessa picked up the supplies and put it back into the first aid bag. "And those were my thoughts on my way here- you littered my brain the entire time." Vanessa gave a shy smile, letting her hair fall over her face to hide her flushed cheeks. Peter slowly brushed the hair back behind her ear, smiling. "You make me so much stronger, Nessa."

Her smile didn't flicker for a second, and she held eye contact with him for a little while, until she began to slip back into reality. "Are you sleeping here or do you want me to take you back home?" she questioned, wanting to know so she could set up his bed or start one of Tony's car.

"Can I sleep here?" he asks.

"Of course," she smiles. She helps him stand and pulls him along up the stairs and into her room. "Tony doesn't have another cleaned goddamn guest room," she chuckles, sitting him on her bed, "so you can have my bed."

"No," Peter interjects, trying to stand. Vanessa settles her hands on his shoulders and reassures him.

"I need to go find some blankets. I'll be back, okay?" she spoke softly, grazing her hand kindly along his cheek before leaving.

She eventually found a few, heading back to her bedroom. As soon as she returned, she saw Peter passed out on top of the covers. She gently tugged them out from under him and pulled them up to his shoulders. Without second thinking, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and set up her bed on the floor, stealing a pillow from the other side of her bed for herself.

- - - - -

She awoke about two hours later to Peter's whimpering yet again. She sat up, looking over at him. His face was in her sight, and it was scrunched up, full of pain and fear, but his eyes remained shut. Vanessa stood, placing a hand on his exposed shoulder. He jolted, sighing in relief, his muscles relaxing as soon as he saw her.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, bad dream," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

But she couldn't. She stood from her makeshift bed once more, tiptoeing over to the free side of her bed. She lifted the covers and laid beneath them, laying so she faced Peter. He wasn't quite sound asleep but his eyes were shut.

Vanessa knew this, so she whispered, "I'm right here." Peter's small toothless smile appeared. Vanessa knew she may create some awkward tension with what she wanted to do next, but she didn't care that much. She leant forward, and pressed another kiss to his nose. "I'm sorry you're in pain." She sighed, watching his face relax more. "I wish it were me instead," she whispered. His face tensed again.

"Don't say that," he mumbled. His hand crawled under the sheets, reaching for hers. He eventually found it and held onto it. She gripped back, still gentle with her touch. Peter smiled again, able to fall back asleep with no more nightmares of his attacker.