It was after dinner, and you were waiting for Peter to come to your apartment so you could study together for the big math test in three days.
Two hours had passed already, though, and with each passing minute, you grew more worried.
You tapped the edge of your pencil against your desk as you dialed his number. "Peter?" you spoke, once he picked up.
"Oh, hey, Y/N. What's going on?"
"Where are you? It's almost ten o'clock and you were supposed to be here two hours ago!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized frantically.
"What's happening this time? Tony give you another mission?" You couldn't help but snap at him, as this wasn't the first time he'd stood you up for something. "Come on, Peter. Seriously. Where. Are. You?"
"I'm sorry, I got held up because there was this big bank heist a few streets down, and---"
His voice was then abruptly cut off by an explosion of some sort in the distance, and the line went dead.
"Peter? Peter!" you exclaimed. Rapidly typing in his number again, you tried to make another call, then another, but he didn't pick up. Your calls were immediately sent to voicemail. Hey, you've reached Peter Parker, if I don't answer, that means I'm busy either building my Lego set with Ned or at the Stark Internship. I'll call you back, bye!
"Oh god, oh god, he better not be dead," you muttered as you got up from your chair, pacing back and forth across your room. A flood of thoughts rushed into your head, imagines of every little thing that could go wrong, things that could possibly happen to him, things that might not happen, or not go well, and it was driving you absolutely crazy.
You too, were a superhero, but you decided to push it aside and reserve it only for weekends and over break, because school was the most important thing right now and you could not afford to have any distractions.
Peter, on the other hand, was completely devoted.
Those next few hours were an agonizing wait for you: you couldn't eat, couldn't move, you just laid across your bed, staring up at the ceiling, hoping and praying he'd be fine. You knew he would, but there was just this one nagging thought at the back of your head telling you, what if he wasn't okay? What if he's dead?
No, he can't be dead, you reassured yourself. He's Peter Parker. He doesn't go down so easily.
Are you sure about that?
You groaned and ran a hand through your hair, pulling out your phone to check the time. 11:56.
Around close to midnight, you heard a light tap on the window, so you slid it open. Peter, in his suit, stumbled in and flopped onto your bed, yanking his mask off to reveal a dirt-caked face, and his hair was sticking to his forehead with what appeared to be dried blood.
"Peter!" You rushed to his side, examining him. "It's midnight? What the hell were you doing out there for so long? It's 12 in the morning! And how did you get all those bruises...wait...is that...why are you bleeding?"
He let out a weak groan. "Apparently, one of the robbers was a HYDRA agent, and then, he, well, he..." Coughing, he wiped his mouth with his hand, which came away bright red, then pointed at his right arm. You tore his suit off down to his shoulder to reveal a deep bullet wound, blood gushing out of it at an alarming pace.
"Oh my god, oh my god..." You began panicking at the sight. "Who...they shot you?"
"No shit, Sherlock," he tried to laugh, but ended up coughing again.
"Stay still. You're losing a lot of blood. I'm going to bandage you up, then we're driving you up to the compound so they can treat you over there. Got it?"
"But Aunt May...she..."
"I called her earlier and told her you're sleeping over at my place for the weekend. You're good for the night. Just please, lay still, I'm going to take care of you first. Got it?"
"You don't need to be so worried, I'll be fine---"
"No! I have the right to be worried, I care about you! You could've died, you know..."
"Okay, okay, now please, do something about my shoulder, it hurts," he winced. You nodded and went to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit, pulling out a roll of thick bandaging, cutting it to size and wrapping it around his shoulder and arm a few times before securing it. "That should hold you for about an hour, now let's get your face cleaned up."
Taking the cotton balls, you dipped them in the hydrogen peroxide solution, dabbing the few cuts on his face ever so gently.
"Ow!" Peter complained. "That stings!"
"You need to do that, unless you want an infection," you reminded him as he clutched his shoulder in pain. After you were finished, you wiped the blood away, wiping his forehead with a towel. "Can you stand now?"
"Sure." He stood up and slung an arm across your shoulders, as yours made your way around his torso.
"Let's go." You led him to your car, and he buckled up as you typed in the GPS directions to the Avengers HQs.
"Tony, Steve, Bruce," you spoke into the gate speakers. "Is anyone there?"
"Y/N..." Steve answered. "What are you doing here this late?"
"Peter's been injured. Just buzz me in and open the gates, will you?"
"Alright. Hold on a sec."
Within a few seconds, the gate opened, and you pulled the car into the driveway and unbuckled your seatbelt, going around to the other side to help Peter out.
Bruce and Wanda immediately answered the door, taking in Peter's pained expression and your worried face. They whisked Peter off to the infirmary in a stretcher, while Natasha came in and sat down with you on the couch, handing you a cup of green tea. "Thanks," you said, taking it.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"He was supposed to show up for a study session, and never showed up, and then around 12, he came in, and he was shot, and apparently, one of the robbers was a HYDRA agent and then---"
"They've been doing bank heists all over the state," she replied, rubbing her fingers against hetemples. "I don't know why, but this isn't good. Wait, did you say he was shot?" Her voice suddenly raised a notch, scaring you a bit.
"Yeah, he was, and I don't know about...I wasn't able to get the bullet out, but I did what I could...I cleaned him up and...what if he..."
"He'll be fine, don't worry," Natasha promised, putting a hand on your forearm. "He'll be okay."
"Yeah," you said moments later, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah." A single tear, shiny as a pearl, slipped down your face, plopping in your lap before you had the chance to wipe it away. "If only I had gone with him, maybe he wouldnt've ended up like this! It's my fault, Nat, it's my fault---" You couldn't finish your sentence before bursting into tears.
"Shh, it's alright," she comforted you, pulling you into her arms and smoothing your hair back. "You're not to blame. You didn't know what was coming. You can't blame yourself for something that you didn't know would happen."
"What if he doesn't make it?"
"He will," she repeated. "I know he will."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure." Then she looked down at her watch, checking what time it was. "They should be finished with him in under twenty. You can go visit soon if you want."
"Yeah, that'd be good," you sniffed, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie.
"Y/N...you really care about him, don't you?"
"Well, of course," you responded, instinctively. "He's always been there for me, so I don't see a reason for why I shouldn't do the same."
"Honey, don't you think you feel something more for him?"
"No," you lied. "I can't. It's only going to break me if we get together and then break up. Because I'd be losing more than just a boyfriend, I'd be losing my best friend in the whole world."
"That's a good point. But I can clearly see it in your eyes that you want your guys' relationship to be more than just friends, and if you just keep it inside, it's going to keep building up until finally, you can't take it any more and you explode."
Fifteen minutes later, you went to Peter's room, he was lying in bed, the blankets pulled up to below his neck, and he was sleeping peacefully. His shoulder was rebandaged, and although injured, he still looked like some sort of fallen angel or god, which amazed you.
You couldn't help but admire him, gazing at him for a few seconds before you finally snapped out of it, placing your hand on top of his. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around, confused at first, until his eyes locked onto yours and he gave you a small smile. "H-hey," he croaked.
"You're okay," you whispered, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes.
"Thank you so much, you saved me, if I hadn't found you, or if you hadn't done anything..."
"It's no big deal. All that matters is you're okay. Okay? Get some rest, you look tired."
"Come here, then." He held his arms out and pouted, which caused you to laugh. "Pleeeeease! I'm lonely."
"Fine." You crawled into bed next to him and he put his arms around you as you rested your head on his chest.
Both of you fell asleep in just a minute. Tony came in to check on him, and saw you two entangled together, smiles still evident on your faces.
"Morning," he smirked, causing you to shoot out of the bed, and Peter to sit up, brushing himself off and pretending as if nothing happened.
"Morning, Mr. Stark," he said casually.
"Hey, Tony," you waved.
"Why were you two in bed---together?"
"Peter made me!" You pointed a finger at him like a child.
Peter gasped, and gave you a fake glare. "You were asking for it!"
"Guys, stop hiding it. You guys like each other so much, it's not even funny. Peter, do I need to add a lie detector into your new suit?"
"N-no."
"Awww, I think it's sweet that you like me, Peter," you teased, nudging him in the shoulder (the one he wasn't shot in), causing him to blush furiously. "I like you too." You kissed his cheek and left, leaving him speechless, his jaw dropped to the ground.
"Did you do him?" Clint gaped as you left Peter's room.
"Ew!" You smacked his arm. "No. I just kissed him."
"WHERE?"
"Jesus Christ, Barton. On the cheek."
"That's hot."