[hero, the hard way]↣ p. parker | t.s daughter

|thirteen| - edited

I woke up in bed. My bed, which meant that someone, probably Peter, carried me here last night after we got back. I patted the other side of the bed but found it empty. Groaning, I sat up and looked around. My room looked the same and I caught my reflection in the vanity mirror that I never used. The swelling was going down on my face, the bruises fading, and my right eye was able to open. But it was definitely far from good.

"Miss Stark, your father has asked me to alert him when you wake." FRIDAY's voice filled my ears. Oh no.

"Is he mad?" I asked.

"He did seem a bit distressed." FRIDAY answered. Nodding, I quickly walked to my closet and changed. I then made my way to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I thought about putting make-up on, to try and cover the bruises so dad wouldn't be quite so distraught, but I didn't bother. He must have seen them already, so there was no point. I opened the bathroom door to see him sat on the bed, playing with my comforter distractedly.

"Oh, Ari. I'm surprised to see you here," He quipped, standing up. I leaned against the door frame.

"You're surprised to see me in my room?"

"Whatever. If I can ask, I can, can't I? Of course I can, kid, what the hell happened to your face?"

"I got mugged." I said shortly. My dad let out an exasperated breath.

"Bullshit you did. That's what Parker said too, but we all know that if someone touched you he would have them in a jail cell by now," He said, running a hand though his hair.

"Can you trust me if I tell you that you knowing would make things worse?"

"My daughter is all beat up, what could be worse than that? There is no normal person that would be able to do that to you and that makes me think that they weren't normal. It makes me think that you were with some super human and they beat the breaks off of you. But that's crazy right?" He raised his eyebrows. I don't have any good options. Either I lie, or I give up Bucky.

"Crazy, right," I confirmed. I pulled on my finger, something that Peter tells me I do when I lie. My dad's eyes flicker down to my hands and then back up to me.

"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" He asked, pulling me into a hug. I bit back a whine at the contact my ribs were getting and opted for a nod instead. "Now, on to more important matters. When do you want to start school again?"

"Is never an option?" I muttered, breaking the hug.

"That's illegal."

"Freshman year is halfway over for Peter and I. I've already done the online courses for the rest of the year so there's no point in going back now." I mumbled.

"Next year?" He asks, a brow raised.

"Yeah, next year." I confirm.

[EIGHT MONTHS LATER]

It had been pretty much exactly eight months since Wakanda, since Bucky, since I realized that I might have feelings for Peter. I'd been tossing it over and over in my head, but I always came up with the same answers. I like Peter. But Peter would never like me back.

A lot can change in a year. My hair has grown out to my shoulders, my prosthetic leg is updated to be lighter and easier to move with, I'm strong again. Sometimes I would go out on patrol with Peter, but I wasn't officially a hero. Just a girl with a bow and arrow.

A knock on my window tore me out of my thoughts. Spider-Man was stuck to the glass, awaiting entry. I opened the window and offered him a hand inside. He took it greatfully and I pulled him inside as gently as I could. His suit was tattered, dirty, and bloody. I reached and pulled the mask off, revealing the black eye and bloodied lip he was sporting.