It Only Takes a Second

- XXXIII-

Suddenly, a soft knock at the window made Harry jump, catching his attention immediately.

There was another knock, and Harry's eyes widened as he looked in the direction of the window.

Standing up, Harry slowly made his way to the window that led out to the fire escape. Cautiously, he pushed the window open to reveal a sight that made his stomach churn.

Peter was laying on the fire escape, breath sounds shallow, and the mask clutched loosely in his hand. His right eye was swollen almost completely shut, and cuts and bruises covered his entire face. But the most concerning thing that Harry saw, the thing that made him want to puke, was the hilt of a knife sticking out of Peter's abdomen.

Peter gave him a weak attempt at a smile that came across as a grimace, before quietly slurring-

"Hey Harry."

*

"Oh my- fuck! Peter!" Harry exclaimed, clambering through the window hurriedly.

"S...orry," Peter wheezed in a pain whisper.

"It's okay, you're okay. Fuck, Peter!" Harry cried, tears that he hadn't even realized were there, dripping down his face in a steady stream.

"MAY!" Harry screamed into the room, his voice cracking as he sobbed and held Peter's head in his hands. "MAY!"

He cursed to himself as he realized that the shower was on, and the loud noises of the city beneath them were washing away his cries for help.

"Shh, you're okay. Let's get you inside, okay?" Harry coddled, and Peter gave a woozy nod. Shooting some webbing out of the web shooters, he aimed for the top of the window and, with Harry's help, pulled himself inside.

"Where's your phone? Show me where your phone is," Harry said frantically. Peter painstakingly raised his arm and pointed to the drawer in the bedside table, and Harry pulled out the phone, panicked.

"Mis'er S'ark, speed dial... one," Peter wheezed, his words slurring even more now, and Harry could tell that he was on the brink of losing consciousness.

Barely able to swipe the phone open to get to the emergency phone button, Harry shakily pressed one and hit the speaker button.

After five, painstakingly long rings, Tony's voice was on the other end as he answered groggily.

"Peter? What're you doing kid, it's two in the morning here," he spoke, sleep still thick in his voice.

"Dad! It's Peter, h-he-he-he's hurt!" Harry hiccupped with a sob. "I d-don't know what t-to do."

"Shit," Tony could be heard scrambling around on the other line. "Is May there? What happened?"

"He w-was on pat-patrol, an-and... he was stabbed!" Harry sobbed. "May's in the sh-shower, an-and she can't he-hear me!"

Tony swore again, Pepper's voice could be heard in the back, asking what was going on.

"Harry, listen to me son, I need you to just apply pressure to the wound and help will be there soon, okay? You're going to have to put your hands on the wound- wait, is the knife still in there?"

"Yes. Should I pull it out?" Harry asked, hands moving towards the hilt of the knife.

"No! Don't pull it out! It's holding some of the blood in, and if you take it out, it'll make it worse!" Tony exclaimed, hoping that Harry hadn't pulled the knife out already.

"Peter, I'm sorry, I really don't want to hurt you but... I have to do this," Harry apologized, placing his hands around the site of the wound and pressing down as hard as he could without moving the knife.