Ned looked down at Peter, laying in his arms limp and pale and cold. Blood had spilt from his mouth at some point, slicked down his chin and throat, staining the collar of his shirt and Ned was trying very hard not to panic. It wasn't working.

"No, Mom not an ambulance. He needs Mr Stark!"

Ned's mother stood in the doorway, terrified eyes bouncing from her son to his best friend.

"He needs-"

"I know what he needs Mom! We don't have time to wait for an ambulance and deal with all their questions! Give me the phone!"

Ned had never yelled at his mother like that in his life but if he didn't call Mr Stark in time Peter would die and he wasn't going to let that happen.

He sucked in a wet breath, sniffing his tears away as he held Peter closer to his chest with one arm, the other reaching for the phone his mother was handing him.

He was immensely grateful that Peter had made him memorize Mr Starks number in case of emergencies and he dialled quicker than he ever had before.

"Ned? You never call unless its an emer-" Tony sounded tired and groggy like he'd just woken up but the teenager didn't have time to wait.

Ned had wanted to stay calm, to be brave and do whatever Peter needed of him but as soon as he heard Tony's voice his bottom lip began to wobble and he choked on a sob, rocking Peter back and forth on the step.

"He won't wake up."

Ned could hear Tony holding his breath over the phone before it came back, panicked and strained like his throat was closing more with each word.

"What happened?" There was no need for Tony to ask who he was talking about because of course, it was about Peter.

Ned shook his head, pressing his forehead to the top of Peters' head where it lay on his shoulder. "I don't know. I found him passed out barely breathing on my porch. Mr Stark, there's b-blood. I think it came from his mouth. There's a lot of it."

Ned could hear sheets rustling through the phone as Tony got up and started running through the compound. "Fuck. Okay, it's going to be okay. Just keep him warm and keep an eye on his breathing. We'll be there in two minutes."

Ned honestly wasn't sure if they had that long. Each of Peters breaths sounded wet and thin and Ned didn't know what to do if they stopped. But he trusted Mr Stark.

"Okay."

He put the phone on speaker and put it down, turning to his mom who was still waiting behind him, hand over her mouth. He kept his voice soft to make up for he yelled at her earlier.

"Mom, he needs a blanket."

He turned just enough to see her nod and run off, looking back down at Peter and gently pressing two fingers to his throat. His pulse was weak and thready but it was there and he sighed, taking the blanket his mother offered.

"You better be okay, Peter. Cause if you're not I won't forgive you."

His mom helped him wrap Peter up in the blanket, kneeling beside her son and trying to understand what was going on. "Honey, what happened to him? Why can't we call an ambulance? I really think he needs-"

Ned tried again, stressed enough without the barrage of questions. "Mom, I can't do this right now."

"How do you know Tony Stark's number?"

Ned tried not to cry, breath hitching as he watched Peters chest rise and fall in stuttered pants. "I'll explain later. We just need to wait for Mr Stark to get here so, Peter can get help."

She wanted to know more, of course, she did but she could see how close her son was to breaking and she saved the questions for later. "Okay, honey. It'll be alright."

Ned wasn't so sure, especially not when Tony almost fell to his knees at the sight of Peter. When he arrived, his own ambulance pulling up, barely parking before he jumped out, Ned could see his face instantly pale.

He ran to the two teenagers and dropped to his knees, hand thrusting to Peters' throat to check his pulse. It was far from stable and he quickly turned to where Bruce was pulling a stretcher towards them.

"Hurry! His pulse is fading!"

Bruce and Tony pulled Peter out of Ned's arms and onto the stretcher, tearing his shirt down the front as they ran to the ambulance.

Ned raced after them, his mother's hand catching his arm at the bottom step. "Sweetheart, you can't go with them!"

Tony and Bruce were already loading Peter up to take him away, talking about internal bleeding and shock.

"Mom, I have to! If anything happens to him-!" He pulled on her grip, eyes glued to his best friend who was having a mask put over his face as someone pumped the bag to force air into his lungs and Ned had watched enough medical dramas to know it was bad.

"Mom, please I can't leave him! He's my best friend!"

He was tugging against her, no matter what she did he wouldn't be staying.

She let him go and Ned ran over to the ambulance, jumping in the back just as they were strapping Peter in.

"Steve, get us moving!"

Bruce was leaning over the kid, hands pressing down on Peters' stomach as he concentrated. His eyebrows came down over his glasses and he shook his head, grabbing supplies. "He's got to be bleeding in the belly, he needs to be in surgery."

Ned gripped the seat beneath him as they sped down the road Peter swaying slightly under the straps as the ambulance rocked. Natasha was squeezing the bag over Peter's face and Tony was watching as helplessly as Ned was.

"I need to tape this line down, where's the- Shit, he's bottoming out. Grab the epinephrine!"

Ned started crying again, throat closing up as he watched Peter being worked on. Tony turned to the kid, the same look of fear in his eyes and he wrapped an arm around him, pulling Neds face to his shoulder. "Don't look, kid. It'll be okay."

Ned shoved his face into Tony's shirt, closing his eyes and gripping his arm tight. But he could still hear the whine of defibrillators and flinched with each shock and slap of Peters back against the stretcher.

The only thing he could do was hope and pray that his best friend would be okay so that he could yell at him for whatever stupid thing he did to get himself hurt.

Tony held the kid close, wishing he could do the same with Peter. With all the commotion going on in the small space it was difficult to even hear himself think but he was able to make out the words Ned kept mumbling to himself against his arm.

"No, no, no. Don't let him die. Please god, don't let him die."

Tony felt his shirt growing wet where Ned cried into it and almost started up himself when Bruce finally sighed and declared Peters pulse returned.

Tony didn't dare move but Ned managed to slip a hand out and snag Peters where it laid limp on the stretcher. He gripped those fingers so tight his own turned white and Tony only held the kid harder.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Peter woke to a great deal of pain. His head pounded, his back and chest ached and his ankle was so sore he didn't want to move it ever again. But he could also feel the tell-tale pinch of an IV taped to the back of his hand and the annoying tug of monitors on his chest.

He didn't need to open his eyes to recognise what the rounded plastic in his hand was for and he pushed the button on the pain pump, sighing quietly at the cool flush of pain meds.

The tapping of shoes against tiles was the only indication of another person in the room and he opened his eyes to see Tony pacing at the end of his bed. He looked upset, understandably so, and he didn't say anything first so, Peter took a moment to collect himself and look around.

He was in a bed in the infirmary, the curtains were open and the sky outside was bright, the sun high among the clouds which meant either it was the day after that terrible failure of a night or possibly even a few days after. There wasn't any way to tell without asking but he had a different question in mind.

Like, why the hell were there wide, thick straps across his ankles, knees and hips. They laid atop his blankets, not really strong enough to stop Peter if he really wanted to leave, but more of a visual threat.

Tony had promised him he'd strap him down if he left the bed, Peter just hadn't been expecting him to follow through. "Really? Restraints?"

Tony didn't look surprised to hear him speak because of course, he would have noticed the moment Peter started to wake up. He didn't stop his pacing, one hand massaging the other the way he did whenever he was stressed.

"I told you to stay in bed." His voice was hard, his eyes not yet meeting Peters. He was angry but his fidgeting hands told Peter he was also scared.

"Mr Sta-"

"Don't." His voice was so hard Peter almost flinched, eyes dipping back down to his blanket. "You almost died. Again."

Peter wrapped a careful arm around his chest as he pulled measured breaths through his nose, oxygen cannula providing him with the help he needed.

He knew that no matter what he said, he'd still get a lecture but he wanted to explain himself. "You don't know what it's like."

Tony stopped pacing, facing Peter with all his anger written plainly on his face. "I know what it's like to be a hero, to feel responsible for other people's lives but you can't go looking for danger just because you know it's there."

Peter didn't want to yell and he didn't want to cry but the weight of guilt and duty lay so heavily on his chest that he couldn't help himself.

"I don't go looking for it! I can hear it!"

Tony stopped, anger melting from his face as he stood back watching the teenager grip at his sheets, the pain in his voice too deep to be taken away with morphine.

"Every night I lay in bed and I try to block it out but I can hear them. People crying, calling for help. I can feel it too. It's like this awful feeling crawling up my spine and I can't just sit there."

He shook his head, watching Mr Stark watching him. "So, no. You don't know what it's like. I can't just ignore them. I can't let someone else lose what I did."

Peter wiped his eyes, sniffling, upset and exhausted. He expected Tony to tell him off again or...something. But he didn't say a word. He stood there for a moment, gaze stuck to Peters damp cheeks.

And then he just left. He walked out and shut the door behind him without another word. Peter wasn't sure what to do with that. He clearly couldn't go after him but he wasn't sure if he'd made things better or worse.

He hadn't expected any other visitors, except for maybe Bruce or the other Avengers but certainly not his best friend. But the moment he walked in Peter remembered what had happened.

"Ned." The teenager stood in the doorway, expression a mix of emotions all equally strong and fighting for dominance. Peter was almost afraid of what he'd say.

"Ned, let me explain-"

The teenager stormed in, apparently having decided on anger, coming to the side of the bed and smacking a palm on Peters' arm.

"Fuck you!" His eyes were already misting over and Peter tried reaching for him.

"Ned-"

He earned another smack on the arm. "You were supposed to be healing! You were on bed rest, Peter!"

"I'm sorry." He was. He hated that Ned had to see him like that and to see him so upset because of him.

"And then you just show up on my doorstep at two am barely breathing!"

"I know-"

Ned's voice was losing its stability, wobbling as his bottom lip trembled, tears spilling over onto his flushed cheeks.

"You almost died!"

"Ned-"

The teenager's hand smacked on the arm again but instead of pulling away he gripped Peters' shoulder and sat on the side of the bed, tipping forward to hug his best friend.

He pressed his face to Peters' neck and cried just like he'd done with Tony in the ambulance. "I was so scared. I thought you were going to die."

Peter closed his eyes and hugged the boy back, feeling awful and guilty for what he'd done.

"I know. I'm sorry, Ned. I'm so sorry."

Ned's voice was somewhat muffled but Peter heard him clear as day.

"Don't do that again, okay? Ever."

Peter knew that he couldn't promise he wouldn't get hurt again but he could make sure that Ned wouldn't have to see it again. And that was about as close as he could get.

"I won't. I promise."

(more coming soon!)