spiderson oneshots

Stitched

Peter didn't know how he was going to get out of this one.

At the moment, he was held down to a table by vibranium straps over his wrist, ankles and torso. He had already tried to get out, but the drugs consistently flowing through an i.v drip and into his veins was weakening him by the second. His faith was withering quickly with each passing moment, and the chance of escape was slim.

"Lovely, the boy's awake."

Peter strained his neck to the side to see a man dressed in a white doctor's coat standing in the doorway. A sly smirk was etched onto his face, a sadistic glint in his eye.

"Who the hell are you," Peter nearly growled, pulling at his restraints once more. The man chuckled darkly before stalking over to the table.

"That isn't important right now, child," he laughed. The man picked up a shiny metal needle, examining it carefully.

"When I get out of here I swear-" the teen began but was cut off by a finger against his lips.

"If you keep up that annoying talking," the man seethed, clearly enraged, "I am going to stitch that mouth of yours."

Peter, being the deviant little shit he was, continued on rambling, not taking the man's words as truth. He nagged at sensitive topics that he didn't even know were sensitive, cracking jokes and just irritating the man even further. After all, he was just stalling until his dad showed up.

"Jesus christ!" the man finally yelled, making Peter fall silent. "I gave you a warning, and now you have to pay the consequences."

The teen gulped silently as the man picked up a needle and stitch, advancing towards him quickly. He pulled at his restraints but it was no use as he man easily grabbed his jaw, pinning his head down. Pure fear was in Peter's eyes as the needle advanced towards his lips, the point dangerously close to the skin.

Without warning, a piercing pain shot through Peter's bottom lip, the needle effectively sliding through and into his mouth. A scream escaped his lips as thread was pulled through the hole, scratching and rubbing against the raw skin.

The man continued on with shadowed eyes, poking a hole through the teen's top lip and pulling the thread through, effectively sewing up the corner of his mouth. Tears ran down Peter's cheeks and he was rightfully terrified, wishing for his dad to hurry the fuck up. Blood dripped down his chin as another hole was poked and more thread was pulled through it.

But as soon as the fourth hole in his lips was made, the room shook with aftershock of an explosion. The wall crumbled, revealing Peter's dad in all his glory. His aunt Natasha and uncle Clint were there too, but that was it. He was slightly disappointed at the small turnout, but was more worried about the stitches in his lips.

"Dad!" the teen called out from the side of his mouth. The man dropped the needle, the hard metal clanging against the boy's teeth.

"Holy shit," he said as he jumped back, putting his hands up.

Clint was quick to take the man down, handcuffing him behind his back and pressing him into the floor with his knee. Natasha and Tony rushed over, eyes widening at the sight.

Peter let out a relieved sigh and let his muscles relax, knowing it was his own fault that he was even in this predicament. He should've just shut up like the man had told him.

Tony quickly took a few photos for evidence on the man's case, hoping it'll be enough to stick him in jail for a good twenty years. But once that was over with, he stepped out of his suit and immediately starting working the thread out of his kid's lips.

"Tony, are you sure that's safe?" Clint called from the other side of the room. Tony merely shook his head, sending his sweat-matted hair everywhere.

"Most definitely not, but his healing is already working on smoothing skin over the holes- I have to get the thread out now so it doesn't close up," he replied as he shakily removed the string from the third hole.

Peter silently watched it all happen, wincing every time his bruised lips were touched—no matter how gentle his dad's fingers were—but limited any audible noises. He didn't need his rescuer to flinch and fuck something up.

Natasha brushed the hair away from the teen's eyes, keeping a hand on his forehead. It was almost like he was going to fly away and she was going to do anything to keep him grounded.

Once Tony unthreaded the last string, he sat back and put it into a panel in his suit (along with the needle) for more evidence. He quickly pulled Peter into a sitting position after ridding of the restraints, resting a hand on his back as Natasha pressed a discarded glove against the boy's mouth, trying to slow down the bleeding.

"You okay, kiddo?" Tony asked gently. Peter nodded and stretched his back muscles, making a satisfying pop.

"Yeah, good thing you came when you did though, I'd be a gøner," (i need help) he joked, well, tried to joke. Natasha gave him a protective glare.

"Don't joke about this, молодой паук (young spider), she said. "You could have gotten extremely hurt."

Peter let out a deflated sigh, slightly grumbling.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry Aunt Nat," he replied. Tony hoisted his son off the hard table, helping him balance on his feet.

"I'll call the quinjet, it shouldn't take too long to get here," the billionaire stated. Clint nodded and dragged the man to his feet and shoved him out of the hole in the wall, leading him outside whilst the remaining three followed.

"You stupid child," the man grunted as he was shoved forwards. Peter shrugged and tried to grin but winced as his bruised lips fought back, resulting in a frown.

"Whatever. Shut up or I'll stitch that mouth of yours."