Tax for heroism (crossover Spider-Man/Alex Rider)

Scars

"Where have you been?" Pleasure greeted him when he finally stood on the doorstep of their room. He had to remember in his mind that Alex had no idea of his secret identity, and if he wanted to arrest him, it should stay that way.

"I took some holiday. You know, Halloween parties, friends... You might as well try it someday," he recited his prepared excuse.

The blonde said nothing, just looked at him with suspicion. It was clear, that he didn't believe the declaration very much, and Peter couldn't help comparing that his so-called friend was like a dangerous dog sniffing all around him. He preferred not to say anything more and just fell on the bed. His leg still hurt a lot. Alex returned to reading the book he had held before Peter burst into their room.

The wounded hero wanted to fall asleep, but despite the pain and stress, which was clearly due to the presence of the killer in the room, he didn't succeed. So he just lay there and stared at the wall before deciding to take shower. He got up, went into the bathroom, and he managed to get down in his shorts before slipping on the wet floor with a noise and a swearing. A moment later, the bathroom door opened and Alex's head peeked out from behind the half-open door.

"Are you all right?!" Pleasure exclaimed, and Peter wanted to say something about the decency of knocking, but Alex's eyes immediately landed on injured leg. He didn't move a single muscle in his face, and the hero allowed himself for a moment to hope that the killer in front of him hadn't associated his wounds with Spider-Man. However, Alex's next sentence quickly dashed that hope. "Why didn't you wait in that crime scene, the police and the ambulance were on their way?" So much for secrecy and pretending!

"Like you care!" the wounded hero snapped bitterly.

His roommate apparently ignored the hostility. He went into the bathroom and said: "But I really do," he grabbed Peter's arm and shoulders to help him get back on his feet, despite Paker's protests. He sat him on the tub and reached into the cupboard above the sink for the first aid kit. "The bandage needs to be replaced." He unpacked the first-aid kit and cut the blood-soaked cloth.

"Why are you acting like this? What you want?" Peter blurted out doubtfully. Whenever the villains knew his identity and were friendly to him anyway, it didn't bode well.

"Because despite what you think now, we are not enemies," Pleasure said, disinfecting the wound.

"You killed two people in front of me," Peter said, frowning at the memory.

"Drug dealers and arms dealers. One of those men shot you. I was trying to protect you," Alex replied.

"I'm a superhero."

"Which doesn't make you immortal or invulnerable. You'll have an ugly scar after that bullet," the blond assessed his condition and began to bandage his leg with a clean bandage.

"It will not be a worse scar than the one you created," Peter growled, still grumpy.

"I understand and I'm sorry," Pleasure nodded and stopped bandaging his leg for a moment. "The scars on the soul are always the worst. However, if this helps, you should know some essential information. The two were Jacob Walker and Thomas Taylor, two prominent Oscorp scientists who either made money in the evenings through illegal activity, or the multinational company has ties to the New York mafia and the Green Goblin. As a CIA agent, I was supposed to trace them. We hoped that they would lead us to far larger fish. But when you showed up, it took me a while to decide about whether I would keep my cover or help you." Alex finally imported Peter's leg, and the hero didn't miss the fact that the treatment was undertaken by his so-called friend with a skill that must have come from years of practice.

"Is that your game? I Should believe you're a spy," the hero still doubted Pleasure's words.

"You don't have to trust me. I know it's difficult. But I'm sure Fury will know me."