Marvel One-Shots [NO REQUESTS]

RAINY DAYS, BLOOD AND BANDAGES

The rapid thud of raindrops colliding with the roof of the bus stop filled Peter's ears. His foot tapped along on the ground to the music playing through his headphones, the song occasionally cutting out thanks to the headphones being old and very much used.

He left his hands in the pockets of his jeans, one holding the change for the bus fare and the other gripping his phone tightly. He knew he wasn't in the best part of town, he'd been mugged there before, and there was no way he wasn't going to keep a hold of them.

His eyes remained on the outstretch of road to his right, waiting for the bus that was scheduled to of come at least ten minutes ago, and bit his lip. There wasn't any time for him to be late home, May would freak and god knows what her new boyfriend would do.

The man was called Robert Lining, though May called him Rob, and didn't deserve her. He drunk at least four beers by the time the afternoon comes around everyday, all of them alcoholic, and that number might triple by the evening. May didn't know this, she worked as a nurse in the hospital an hour away, meaning she was rarely at home.

When drunk, there was no telling what Rob might do. There were marks on Peter's back from the belt, burns on his arms from the man's cigarettes where they had been pressed and a small bruise on the back of his head from the half-empty bottle of beer thrown at him the other day. Unluckily, his healing factor only healed the cuts and marks, they'd still scar over.

He had to hide it from May, she would freak out if she knew what Robert really was and Peter wasn't sure who her anger would be directed at. Would she kick her boyfriend out, dumping him? Or would she blame Peter, calling him a liar, and shove him into a care home?

Peter leaned his head against the back of the bus stop, not caring about the dirt on the clear plastic in the slightest, and sighed. He had spent the day working in a coffee shop, the only place that would hire the fifteen year old and pay him, even if it was the minimum wage. Sadly, vigilante work came with no paycheck, but he still hated that he had given it up, there just wasn't time between working, school and healing from the attacks.

His curfew was for eight in the afternoon. Looking down at his watch, his heart quickened when he realised it was ten-to-eight. There was no way the delayed bus would be able to get him home in time. The moment he'd step through the door, he'd be attacked. It had happened in the past for much less.

The marks on his back started to sting beneath the bandages. He winced, shifting on the seat uncomfortably. Footsteps approached him, so Peter made sure to stare down at his feet to avoid angering a stranger.

"Hey, kid."

Peter looked up hesitantly. The person talking to him was a man, light brown hair and a squarish face. He was wearing smart casual clothes and a raincoat over the top. His hand held an umbrella, sheltering him, and showed off a wedding ring on his finger.

Unsure to why he was being addressed, Peter sent him a weak smile and did his best to ignore the flares of pain his injuries were inflicting upon him.

"Kid, are you okay?" The man asked, taking a few steps towards the teenager. He frowned to himself when the kid flinched, that was not a good sign.

"I-I'm fine, sir." Peter spoke loud enough for the man to just about hear, avoiding his gaze.

"Sure, that explains why there's blood on your shoes." The man retorted, pointing towards Peter's worn and scuffed sneakers.

"Shit." Peter whispered to himself, picking up his left foot to look underneath. There was a nail lodged into it, probably from the building site a few meters away. He stopped himself from taking off his shoe, not wanting to cause anymore damage by removing the nail.