A/N I'm sorry this took so long to finish guys, writer's block is a bitch to conquer. After every sentence I just kept getting fuzzy head. And every word I used kept feeling wrong.
The bright light momentarily blinded Peter as his eyes flickered open. He realized he was laying on an examining table. His suit was still on, but a section of it was cut away. Where a hole in his side should be, a neat row of stitches was in it's place. In a moment of panic, he quickly felt for his mask, realizing it was still there.
"We didn't peek." A voice said, Tony Stark walked into Peter's vision. Peter instantly felt relieved. Ok, he doesn't know Spider-Man is the awkward kid he bumped into in the school bathroom.
"Thank you." He cleared his throat, it was really dry after being passed out for who knows how many hours.
"You're very lucky. Another inch and you could have been a lot worse." Another voice said. Peter looked towards the door and saw THE Dr. Bruce Banner. Peter had read a lot about him and his research on gamma radiation, he truly respected the man. Wow, Bruce Banner fixed my bullet wound. That sounds kinda weird. He thought. Wait...Am I in Avengers Tower?
"That's good to know." Peter sat up quickly, groaning in pain as he grudgingly swung his legs over the edge of the table.
"I never knew you had a healing factor. By the time we got you on the table. You'd already stopped bleeding." Bruce explained. "You must get injured all the time, your whole body is covered in scars."
"Yeah, well this line of work isn't always the safest." Peter spoke truthfully. "But this is probably the most hurt I've gotten. It wasn't the smartest I've been either."
"No kidding." Tony said. "That was a pretty reckless thing you did back there."
"But we got them, didn't we?" Peter justified.
"You got shot." Tony hissed. "What if the next time, a bullet goes through your heart, or between your eyes? Would you heal from that?" He asked sternly. Peter glared at him through his mask.
"Hey, you better watch out Stark, people might start to think you care." Peter turned and Steve motherfucking Rogers was standing in the doorway, looking as majestic as Peter thought he would.
"I do care." The billionaire said. "Spider-Man, Captain America, Captain America, Spider-Man." Peter was starstruck as Steve walked forward and firmly shook his hand.
"Glad to see you're feeling better." Steve smiled, his blue eyes curling upwards.
"Yeah I am, Thanks." The teenager stuttered.
"Not just me, we were all concerned." Steve answered. They couldn't see it, but Peter's eyes widened.
Peter was shocked. The Avengers were worried, about me?
"Really?" He gulped. Tony looked at Peter like he was stupid.
"Of course." Tony smiled. "Someone's gotta be down there, helping the people of New York."
"Yeah. I try." Peter remarked, he hissed in pain as he rubbed the sore on his side, it stung. He hoped it would heal pretty soon, it already felt like it was scabbing up.
"That's the most we can do." Steve acknowledged, Tony nodded, agreeing with his teammate.
"So um, something I can't stop thinking about." Tony started. "After you were shot, you yelled 'Not like this!' What was all that about?" Tony questioned, Peter froze.
"I don't like guns." Peter said unconvincingly. Although, that wasn't the only reason. Tony could tell he wasn't being entirely truthful, but maybe he shouldn't press the issue. Maybe Spider-Man had his reasons. Still, he was curious.
"Fine, I won't press it." He said in defeat. Peter instantly felt a load off his chest.
"Thank you." He said sincerely, relieved he wouldn't have to explain. It was just... to personal to him. Peter looked at his wound.
"I-I-I should probably get going. My super hot girlfriend which I definitely have is probably wondering where I am."" He stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality, tru-" a sharp pain erupted and shot through his body, he fell the the floor, clutching his side.
"Nope, Nope. You aren't going anywhere. You're staying here, at least until morning." Tony helped him up from the floor, and back onto the table. Peter wanted to object, make a scene, and leave immediately, but his better judgment told him to stay. And he'd already ignored his better judgement earlier, look how that turned out. He thought.
He sighed as he resigned himself to the fact that he would be staying the night. Aunt May was going to be pissed.