This idea hit me at two thirty in the morning and just wouldn't go away. So I wrote it on my phone. Let's see how this works.
If it says Gwen's parents names anywhere, I didn't hear them. And I never read the comics as a kid on grounds of all the spider pictures freaking me out (I just found out I was allergic through a banana spider bite, can you really blame me?).
Anyway, I imagined that if Mr. Stacy lived, he'd turn into Spider-Man's equivalent to Commissioner Gordon in Batman. Just, you know, not Gary Oldman.
Edit: They're juniors in this. Took a tally from chapter two.
Disclaimer: only own what you don't recognize.
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It's around midnight when George Stacy gets a knock on his bedroom door.
Normally, this means his youngest is coming to tell him and his wife that he had a nightmare so one of them could get up and calm him down, but it's the boys' winter vacation and Helen decided to bring them along on a business trip. This can only mean it's Gwen, who's up past midnight because it's a Friday (well, Saturday as of of five minutes ago), and his paternal instincts light up like a torch to let him know something's wrong. He pushes his covers back and heads to the door, putting on his most impassive face to hide his worry because he doesn't know what state his daughter is in yet. And he hopes to God that it isn't something womanly since being equipped to handle those sorts of things isn't really his strong point.
But once he opens the door he wishes that it was a female issue because finding his daughter more wide eyed than usual with her hands bloody isn't something any father wants to see. Before he can ask what's wrong, she's stuttering out, "T-taking pictures for a scholarship, not doing anything dangerous, snow wasn't on the weather report, fell on a fire escape, too heavy to move -"
Though this is about the last thing he needs at the moment, he doesn't particularly like the thought of Peter Parker injured and he'd rather have him here than struggling to get to Queens. He isn't sure what it is - that he puts his life on the line for the safety of others same as any officer, that he and his daughter are unfortunately, obviously in love, that he has no father of his own to help him - but he does feel at least a little responsible for the boy. "In your room?" he asks, quieting Gwen down. She nods, and some of the shaking calms. "Okay, come on."
He finds Peter slumped against the windowsill, half passed out and shirtless without his outfit in sight, a cut running down his temple and his right side covered in forming bruises, along with a nasty scrape on the inside of his arm. There's a camera next to him with with chipped paint but otherwise unharmed, and a cell phone that still looks intact too. Checking his injuries first is the best idea, but George doesn't want a bloody mess on his daughter's floor.
"This might hurt a little," he says, hooking one arm under the boy's already folded legs and another around his shoulders because he doesn't think he will be able to walk on his own. He hears Gwen's sharp intake of breath at a noticeable flinch, and Peter's much too light for someone his height. Then again, he does swing on webs, so it only makes sense. "Gwen, go get the first aid kit in the kitchen. I'm taking him to the bathroom. Peter, I need you to keep your head up."
She nods, shaken, and hurries out as George tries to maneuver all six feet of lanky, damaged limbs through the bathroom door and sets him down with a minimal amount of pain on the tile floor. His pupils are far too dilated, and it won't take any tests to see if he's concussed.
"Gwen said something about a scholarship," he tells him as he gets down in front of him to inspect the damage, trying to keep him awake. He's dealt with more than enough officers and victims with concussions that he knows that to do. There's a bloodstain forming on his jeans near his shin.
"Yeah," Peter answers, looking mildly surprised that someone's in front of him. Naturally the kid got injured when he wasn't fighting some serial killer or bizarre criminal mastermind. "Want to go to NYU. Found a scholarship for a photography contest."
"Were you hoping for unique angles?" Peter nods, and he rolls up the pant leg to reveal lacerations that match the grating of a fire escape.
Before he can answer, Gwen comes back, holding the first-aid kit in her hands and getting down next to them. She and George split the disinfectant wipes to make this go faster as he tries to figure out what to do. He's head of a murder investigation, has to go into work at seven in the morning, and is dead tired, so he should be asleep, but Peter can't go home in this weather in the condition he's in and he doesn't like the idea of leaving a teenage boy with his daughter without adult supervision. Though, realistically, the odds of him doing anything other trying to stay awake seem slim.
"I'm so sorry," he says, giving another wince. "Tried to make it home, couldn't. Nowhere else to go."
As the initial touch of disinfectant touches his temple and arm, causing a slight spazz, Gwen says, "Just don't talk for a moment, okay? Concentrate on breathing."
Like most sane people in the world, George doesn't like it when kids get hurt. In his line of work, he sees it all too often. And though he's glad his daughter got him to help patch the kid up, he knows that he can't let this be the end of it. He's an adult, a cop, and Spider-Man or not, he can't let a high school student get away with being injured in his bathroom and not do something about it.
Basically, he's worried.
Surprisingly, what worries him the most is Peter's complete lack of reaction when he suddenly slumps against Gwen's shoulder other than, "Oh, Jesus!" presumably because of the pain.
It takes a lot of patience and selflessness not to be annoyed by this, and the only thing that stops him is keeping in mind that he practically works with this kid, exchanging information, and he can plainly see that there's no way he could've gone anywhere else. Even in New York, this weather will slow down just about everything. "You cracked a rib," he says and his daughter looks considerably more startled as she puts butterfly stitches on his head. "You're going to need to go to the hospital in the morn -"
"No!" he cuts in, mind evidently still tuned in enough to register that. "I heal fast, I'll be better in a-a few hours. Just...wanna sleep."
As George pinches the bridge of his nose, Gwen says, "Don't you dare, Peter Parker!" If this weren't so seriously she wouldn't have gotten him because even the smartest of people have their moments, he knows. "We'll think up an excuse, it'll be fine." Peter doesn't answer. "I'm going to get a wash cloth for the blood and some Advil. Do you need anything else?"
"Cell phone. Aunt M-M-May doesn't sleep until I get home."
Gwen adjusts him to move and he slides further down the bathtub's edge. Once she's gone the boy's repeating, "I'm so sorry. Wouldn't've - only two blocks away - can't stick to ice 'pparently."
"It's fine," he answers even if it isn't really. There's an injured sixteen-year-old who's done a pretty good job staying away from his off limits daughter bleeding on his bathroom floor when he shouldn't be here in the first place. "You'll be all right."
Again, he gets no answer. Peter's like a rag doll when George leans him away from his support, falling awkwardly forward as he binds his ribs. Then, delayed, he asks, "You sure?" and there's an edge of nervousness in his voice that wasn't there before.
George really, really hates it when kids get hurt.
"Positive," he says but being a cop's turned him into a pessimist, so he isn't entirely. "You said you heal fast, Parker?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, if you're back in the city at night before at least Friday, I'm sending out a warrant for your arrest again and telling your aunt."
For the third time, no answer. As he leans Peter back, bandages and bindings in place, Gwen returns with a washcloth and Peter's phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. She's saying, "...Stacy, his classmate. He can't make it home because of the storm. Oh, he was covered in snow so my dad made him take a shower before he gets sick. He wants you to know he'll he there as soon as he can. Okay, I'll tell him. Sorry about this, Mrs. Parker. Goodbye."
When she kneels back down in front of him to clean off her face, Peter tells her, "Could've called myself."
"Not when you can't complete a sentence," George answers and stands. "I'll get you something to change into and put your clothes in the wash. Sending you home like this isn't a good idea."
Though he doesn't like the idea of leaving the two of them alone, the boy's incredibly dazed, "Okay," reassures him that anything happening to reestablish something resembling a relationship is borderline impossible.
It takes longer than it should've, but he manages to help the kid change his shirt and pants, both of which turn out to be baggy, while Gwen waits outside. And after a very long internal conflict, he decides that sleep is pretty important and his daughter probably won't get any anyway, and leaves them alone.
Eventually sleep does come to him despite a nightmare of giant humanoid lizards in trench coats, and he wakes up at six. In his own tired state, it takes him until he finishes his morning routine to remember the teenagers left to their own devices in a bedroom all night. He hurries down the hall, knocking on the plain white door, and a moment later a very sleepy Gwen opens it.
"Morning, Daddy," she says, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "You woke me up."
"What?" He looks past her to find Peter lying on his uninjured side on the floor. Even from this vantage point, he can see the bruises and head would already look better. He wasn't kidding about healing fast, then. "When?"
She rubs her eye. "Bout an hour ago," she answers. "Can we just...stay here? I'll go to the guest room or something. Please, Daddy?"
Again, he doesn't like it, but the ice storm is still raging on outside and work for an officer is never cancelled. It takes another internal debate, but in the end he says, "There are eggs in the refrigerator. And your mom's flight is coming in at noon."
"I'll set my alarm for nine. If anything's wrong, I'll take him to the hospital."
"Tell him my warning still stands."
"Okay. Be careful."
They part ways, but he waits until he hears Gwen enter the guest room before leaving.
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If Peter ever got severely hurt, his luck's bad enough that it would be in a completely unrelated to crime fighting. Review please! I might end up writing Peter's and Gwen's point of views too.