I4/Hiding It
Breathing hard to concentrate through the pain.
Hiding an injury as someone with a healing factor was easy in theory. Peter had dealt with plenty of scrapes and bruises in the line of duty, but that was the thing. They were usually scrapes and bruises, maybe a sort of deep cut at most, things anyone would be fine ignoring for the most part.
This was no cut. He'd misjudged his flight path and slammed hand-first into a rogue balcony when he was trying to swing to a rooftop. He'd pulled himself together enough to wrap things up and head home, but something was wrong.
His finger was dislocated, no question about it. He'd never had to deal with anything this complicated alone before. He'd broken a bone once, but it was a simple fracture, and keeping weight off it for a day had been enough for it to heal with no issue. No one had even known because May had worked a sixteen-hour shift that day and he'd pretended to be asleep when it needed a few hours more to heal after she returned.
This couldn't heal as it was. It was obviously not aligned the way it should be and stuck out awkwardly. Looking at it made him nauseous, but he had to do something. Thething was still coated in bruises, and he couldn't use that hand without a sharp pain that left him gasping and wincing involuntarily.
He wanted to get help from someone who knew what they were doing, but that was his Plan C. Plan A was ignoring it, but clearly that wasn't working. It looked just as bad as it had several hours ago. No doctor would see his healing factor and write it off, and he was finally making a good impression on the Avengers, so he really didn't want to ruin that by revealing his own incompetence at taking care of something that should be simple in his profession. He still couldn't believe he'd messed up so badly.
Plan B sent a thrill of anxiety down his spine, but it couldn't be that bad, right? He just needed to set it himself. People did that all the time. He'd seen it in a couple movies.
The fact that every website he used to research the process included a bold disclaimer to get professional help wasn't reassuring, but he'd gotten this far without crawling to the team. He could do this.
He had to fight against everything in his being telling him not to touch the finger, but he overcame it by squeezing his eyes tightly shut and reaching for it.
He was supposed to start with a slight pressure and build up from there, but he was only a couple seconds in and already breathing hard. He couldn't hold back a whimper, loud in the near silence of the apartment.
"Peter? You okay?" Crap. Aunt May wasn't supposed to be home yet. He jumped and instantly regretted it when the jerky movement went straight to his injured finger. This time, he yelped loudly in shock and let go without finishing what he'd started.
May didn't waste any time barging into his room, and her gaze fell on his bruised and swollen finger before he could hide it. She was smart; it didn't take her long to piece together what he was up to.
"Peter Benjamin Parker!"