Poor Peter Parker // Irondad

Chapter 12

1 THOUSAND READS?! I am very surprised, to say the least! I assumed this would end up like another story that got like 2 reads 😂 I am sooo glad you guys are enjoying this book! The fact that people are actually legitimately interested makes me so excited!

Also: My school just got cancelled for the next 6 weeks due to the coronavirus! I live in like the heart of Washington, so I guess it makes sense. I should be updating more frequently since I'll have more time, but we'll see. Sorry, enough about that, herreeeee's Peter!!

*jazz hands as curtains open*
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"Lets review what we know." Steve points a finger at the whiteboard that sits in front of the conference table. Pretty much everyone has changed into civilian clothes, aside from Tony and I. I'm assuming Tony doesn't want to change so he's prepared for whatever may happen. However, Tony does have his mask deconstructed, so we can see his face.

It's been about an hour since the fight. Not gonna lie, I don't think my leg has healed at all, which is disconcerting, to say the least. My stomach aches with hunger and the thought of that pizza I was so close to savoring makes it all the worse. I know my leg won't heal unless I get some food to fuel me, but I won't be able to eat till I get back to mine and Eddie's apartment—and who knows when that'll be?

"Peter was spotted by Tony at 10:00 AM. Tony says Peter was just stopping for pizza with his friend. Arsenic snags Peter," Steve seems to take a moment for a deep breath, "Chokes him, throws him into an alley. That's what we know."

I hope Ned's okay. Who knows what kind of danger he found himself in after I left?

That's when I notice Clint staring at me. Or, more specifically, my leg. He can see the blood seeping out and staining my suit. Clint raises an eyebrow and points to my leg discreetly. I wave him off with a delicate mouthing of 'it's fine'. Our attention diverts back to the situation at hand—

Tony places a finger in the air and sits up from the desk he was leaning on. "I actually saw Peter a little while after that."

"You did?" Natasha questions, raising an eyebrow at him.

"He was sitting in the alley. His, uh, his leg was broken." Tony obviously tries to suppress his anxiety. "Clean at the femur."

The room gasps. "Oh, god..." Clint mutters as he stares at the carpeted flooring in horror. I can see an idea slap him in the forehead and his eyes zip to me. Then they trail down my torso until they finally rest on my bleeding leg. His eyes go wide with some sort of realization—and I am really hoping it isn't the one I'm thinking of.

Bucky's face reads one of intense thought, as if all the facts were a book he was studying over and over again. "I don't think he'd survive—"

"He would." Tony intercepts.

Bucky shoots him a looming, grim look. "Tony, I don't think—"

Tony's face darkens. "He would." The room goes silent with tension.

"Okay," Steve takes a deep breath, "So Peter's definitely injured." I can see him falter as he writes it on the whiteboard. Clint's eyes finally bounce up to meet my gaze, but instead of the firm, professional gleam they had before, I now see a look of worry and care.

"Which leg was snapped?" Clint asks abruptly as he neglects to break eye contact with me.

"Left." Tony notes. Clint's eyes somehow widen even more.