Ugh [Peter Parker]

Silent Whisper

There he was, fingers weakly tangled into the end of your shirt, gently pulling with what strength he had left. He was face down and obviously beaten. Why did you always meet in such frustrating or bad ways? The first time was because you screamed. The second because he slammed his foot upon his own and broke his toes- and now this.

He was bleeding.

"God- you idiot.", you whispered to him after you'd calmed yourself. It seemed like he loved to find you at the worst times- like he lived for causing you pain and frustration. Slowly, you pulled him further into the alley, not wanting him to be seen in such a state. Any thug would take the opportunity to kick him while he was down and you would not have that. You weren't sure if you could protect him- but you'd try. You'd try with all your might, and damn anyone who had the audacity to try you.

Still- he was bleeding- quite a bit too. What were you supposed to do though? You couldn't pick him up and drag him to your place- not only were you sure you couldn't carry him that far, he was also still in the suit. People would go ballistic if they saw you dragging a bleeding Spider-Man into your apartment. You also weren't about to undress him. Skin tight suit? Yeah, no chance he was wearing anything under. Plus you weren't even sure how it came off. You were stuck in this alley with a bleeding boy.

That thought struck something in you. He was just a boy- a fifteen or sixteen year old boy. Just a boy, risking his life daily to save the people of Queens. You wondered now, who saved him? Who picked him up when he was down like this?

Did heroes need saving?

Now you wondered if anyone else knew of his secret. If anyone helped him patch up or let him vent about the bad side of being a super-hero. Surely it wasn't all rainbows- surely he'd seen things no one his age should have to.

Surely he was still fucking bleeding. You dug around your bag, searching for anything to help, but you had nothing. No extra shirt or any kind of string or fabric to make a makeshift tourniquet of some sort. All you had were textbooks, notebooks, some pencils and a half empty water bottle. The only helpful thing would be water, but he wasn't awake to drink. The lenses of his mask were shut, telling you he was unconscious. His breaths were shallow and you were growing scared. What were you supposed to do? What- oh hey. He had a bag clutched in his other hand. Maybe it was his?

Sure enough, it had been his. It held his clothes, some school work and thank goodness- some first aid supplies. Obviously you couldn't clean him in a dirty alleyway- and you couldn't drag him away in the suit, so you did the next best thing. You dressed him in the clothes he had in his bag, managing to figure out how to remove the gloves and shoes of his suit, as well as his mask. You slipped those back in his bag and then proceeded to put his bag on his back so you could move him. To say that you struggled would be a huge understatement. He was heavier than he looked, and you guessed that must be because he was more muscular than he looked- he sure as hell felt muscular. You had to lean his front against your back and drape his arms around your shoulders. It took a few tries to lift him up though- you even dropped him once but no one needs to know that.

You had to ignore the stares some people gave you as you trudged along with a bruised and unconscious boy slumped against your back. You stumbled and almost fell three times, but somehow you made it. For once you were thankful for the dingy old elevator in your apartment building. You'd have died if you had to drag him up eight flights of stairs. You were even more thankful to find your apartment vacant. No one was home- your parents were still at work. Still, you needed privacy just in case. If your parents came home early to you patching him up on your couch, the questions and lectures would be endless. You couldn't just tell them that your soulmate was a super-hero. They would freak out just as much as you had. With that said, you trudged along into your room, letting him fall off your back and onto your bed. He bounced a bit and landed face first, for a moment he began to slide off, and so you had to pull him fully on the bed. You scrambled around your room, looking for rags no one would notice going missing and something to hold some cool water. His bag only contained some bandages, peroxide and what looked like gauze. You couldn't be sure, but it wasn't everything you needed.