A persistent tapping at his bedroom window woke Michael. He flicked on his bedside light while wiping the fog of sleep from his mind. It was a weekend night, and Michael planned on milking it for all it was worth.

The annoying tapping wasn't going away, so he flung his curtain open, a yell on his lips to scare away the bird-

"Peter?!" Only to come face-to-face with one beat up Peter Parker, still in his Spiderman suit and swaying dangerously on the windowsill.

Panic gripped his chest as he shoved open the window with probably more force than he should have used. Peter stumbled in and onto Michael's bed, tugging off his mask. His face looked terrible, but Michael was more worried about the bloodstained place on Peter's side he was gripping like a lifeline.

Peter, despite bleeding out on Michael's bed, grinned tiredly at him. "Heeey MJ. So, uh, funny story: There was these guys robbing a bank, and guess what! One of them had a gun. And they sort of... shot me. Who woulda guessed?"

God, Peter was going to be the (second) death of him.

Michael dragged a hand over his face, shooting a half-glare at Peter. "I would have guessed. Just, stay there, I'll get the first aid kit."

He rummaged through his bathroom to find the barely-used first aid kit, laying it out on his bed beside Peter. Gently pushing Peter into a laying-down position, Michael carefully cut through the surprisingly strong fabric of Peter's suit to expose the wound. It wasn't too bad, but it'd definitely need stitches. He was so lucky he had to sew up his own scars so many times or this would have been a lot harder.

Michael glanced up at Peter's face to judge how awake he was. Not very much, judging by the half-lidded eyes and quiet mumbling. It was probably for the better that he wasn't fully aware for the actual stitching-up part. Even with Michael's dulled senses, it still hurt to do it on himself; he could only imagine what it felt like in a normal human.

Slowly but surely, Michael cleaned the wound and stitched it up, eliciting small noises of pain from Peter. Finally, he gave it a finishing clean and wrapped it up, firm but not firm enough to hurt.

Looking down at Peter, covered in gauze and bruises but fast asleep with a serene expression on his face, Michael felt something warm inside of him. Maybe... this was his second chance, not just to help someone when he couldn't before, but his second chance at a life.

In that moment, Michael made a promise to himself. This one, unlike the others, would be kept.