Peter Parker One Shots

The Fight (ending 1)

This head hit home. 

Peter reeled back, trying to get his head to stop shaking. It felt like his brain was the windows screen saver, bouncing around in his skull. The next thing he knew, he was being picked up by the cloth at his neck, his mask being ripped off as he was drug through the air by Toomes, who was flying with a fixed machine. Peter fought against the hand that was holding the cloth, pulling it tighter and choking him. He struggled, and Toomes laughed, holding the cloth tighter, choking Peter more. Peter felt his limbs go limp and fuzzy, and it was hard to keep fighting when they were so heavy.

Adrian laughed again and stopped in the air. Peter could fainty make out lights in the corner of his eye between the black spots that took over his vision.

“Oh, Pedro. I would give the mask back, but I want to see your pain.”

Peter felt a rush of panic as he wondered what Toomes ment. He didn’t have time to think about it before he was being thrown into a building, his back crashing through glass which ripped into his skin before hitting a wall of concrete, and he could have sworn that he felt his back crack before he fell to the floor.

He laid there for a moment in shock before he heard his name called loudly, like it had been called for a while already. He opened his eyes slowly and looked up into Tony’s face.

Tony’s face was twisted with concern, his eyes scanning every inch of Peter, logging all the injuries.

“Peter? Peter are you okay?”

“Mhm,” was all Peter could get out in the pain.

It was then that Peter noticed a boy standing behind Tony, looking just as panicked.

And shocked. Harley had loved SpiderMan the instant that the hero came around, and had supported every move he took. But now, looking at SpiderMan, Harley was shocked. It was just a boy. A boy who looked so tired and worn and not really observant of his surroundings. Though in truth, that could be because of the blood leaking from Spider Man's head. Or the blood pooling from his back. Spiderman, or Peter, he had heard the man say, put his hands under his chest and tried to push himself up. Tony pushed him back down, telling him to stay down.

Peter was in so much pain that he didn’t argue.

“Peter, what happened? I thought it was just the small threat and then home?”

“‘M still working on the small threat, M’Stark,” he slurred, before trying to sit up again.

“No, stay down Underoos. Where’s the threat now?”

“I’m right here.”

Tony and Harley turned to the window, where a man stood. No, not stood. Floated. The man had a pack on his back with wings, and it was somehow keeping him up.

“Holy fuck,” Tony said under his breath. Peter had eventually broken and told Tony everything about Toomes between sobs and panic attacks. To say that Tony was pissed that the man had hurt Peter again was an understatement. Tony was absolutely livid, but barely had time to yell at Toomes before he and Harley were being pushed out of the way as something exploded. Tony had been so caught up in his anger that he hadn’t seen Tommes pull out a small grenade.

Now he and Harley were on the floor, Peter laying on top of them as he looked around the room, trying to see past the smoke.

Out of nowhere, Tommes came through the flames and grabbed Peter, pulling the boy off Tony and Harley before pinning him to a wall. Peter felt each punch land like he was being hit with a hammer again and again, his head spinning from blood loss and his lungs heaving from the smoke.