Peter ends up knocking on Michelle's window, little before midnight, bleeding out onto his suit and the wall.

She opens it for him anyways, hair tousled and eyes weary but wide awake, the dim light from her lamp and the open book in hand the only signs that she hadn't been asleep when he'd arrived.

"Hi." He waved sheepishly at her, and gestured inside her room. "Can, I, um, come in?"

"God," Was the first thing out of her mouth, half a sigh as she ran her fingers through her already messy hair. "You're such a loser."

And he really didn't know how to respond to that, so he kind of gestured at his torso and mumbled, "I, uh, got stabbed."

Michelle opened the window completely and waved him in. "What makes you think that I can help with that?" She demanded, raising an eyebrow as Peter accidentally started bleeding on her blanket.

"You, um," Peter's brain to mouth filter stopped working properly, along with his flawed logic. "You're Michelle."

"Yes." Michelle raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed. "And you're bleeding on my blankets."

"Sorry." Peter groaned as Michelle pulled her window and curtains shut. He pulled his mask off and scrubbed a bloody hand over his face, leaving a slightly disturbing red streak on his cheek. "I, um, I'll clean it up or..."

"I'll just tell my parents that it was from my period." Michelle waved him off with a shrug.

"Oh, okay." Peter turned bright red, and pointed looked anywhere but at Michelle. "So, do you, um, have anything to help me clean up?"

"Yeah." Michelle sighed, and pulled a few books from her shelves. "I have a first aid kit behind my LOTR and HP sets."

Peter scrunched up his nose and tilted his head to the side, puzzled. "Why do you keep it behind your books?"

"Because I also keep my taser and knives in there." Michelle responded airily, waving her hand as she tossed her first aid kit onto the loft and climbed back up to Peter.

He gaped at her. "Why do you have a taser and knives?" He demanded, forehead creasing in concern. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"And you're a vigilante. I'm pretty sure we're both illegal." Michelle replied flippantly, apathetic as she gave him a once over, lips twisted to the side. "I need it for self defense, especially since I'm friends with you. Anyways, where's your stab wound?"

"You need self defense because..." Peter sighed and shook his head. "I have one here." He pointed at a spot slightly to the left of his stomach, and Michelle wrinkled her nose at him.

"You have more than one?" She groaned, and raked her hands over her face. "Why?"

"In my defense," Peter held up a finger, and Michelle shot him an unimpressed look, as though to say already preparing to yell that it's not a good defense, "It's not all from the same person. There were multiple muggings, and multiple muggers, and one attempted murder."

"Oliver Twist me over." Michelle swore, before jumping back off the loft and opening a few drawers, rummaging through them for a moment before tossing a pair of gray sweat pants at Peter and snapping, "Change into that. I'm going to get a glass of water and a towel, and you need to stay put, and stay quiet."

Peter saluted her quickly. "Yes ma'am!" He agreed quickly, dipping his head into a quick nod.

She came back quickly, and dipped the towel into the water, handing it to Peter as she asked, "Do you want me to do it, or do it yourself?"

Peter, who had left his Spider-man suit crumpled on her bed, accepted the towel. "I can clean it up." He offered, and she nodded, already having suspected that. "Did I wake you up?"

Michelle jerked a thumb at the open book on her pillow, raising an eyebrow as she demanded, "Does it look like I was sleeping?"

Peter ducked his head down and shrugged jerkily. "So, what were you reading?"

"The Train and the City. Thomas Wolfe."

"Is he good?" Peter asked, hissing when he started adding the disinfectant.

Michelle hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah. The way that he phrases things is really pretty. Focuses a bit too much on women if you ask me, though."

Peter snorted, "That must be annoying."

"Better than some other people." Michelle sighed, and tucked a bookmark into her book. "I'm so sick of sexist authors, though."

"That must be annoying." Peter agreed sympathetically.

Michelle groaned. "You know what's annoying? Getting stabbed." She shot him an icy stare. "And being so stupid that you don't go to the hospital."

Peter laughed awkwardly. "I think that I'm, uh, done. So I'll just..."

"Not with those wounds, you're not." Michelle yawned, and tossed her phone at Peter. "Tell your Aunt that you're staying overnight."

"With a girl? She'll never..."

"I'm ace, so we're good." Michelle raised an eyebrow. "Unless we're not platonic?"

"No, we're definitely platonic!" Peter protested, scrambling around with the phone. "I just..."

"Whatever." Michelle put her book back on her desk. "Night, Peter."

Peter froze, staring at her as she raised an eyebrow at him. "...Night." He whispered awkwardly, turning bright red.

This was not how he had expected tonight to go.