Author's Note: Wow. Just wow. Thank you guys so much for your support! I am beyond words! (and am now admittedly a little nervous). Thank you!
Happy August! :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Warnings for: Some description of injury, nothing major and I don't dive into excessive detail, but warnings are always good. ;)
Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!
Chapter Two:
"Who are they?"
They are well into their English assignment (a presentation for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet) when the lock for apartment clicks and May steps into the building. He and Ned are, in fact, so deep into their analysis of who-they-should-blame-for-the-ending that they don't realize that she has returned until there's a loud clunk from the door sliding shut again and May's voice rings out.
Peter and Ned jump slightly from the sound of the question in surprise and Peter whirls, vaulting from his seat a startled "May!" escaping him. He's lost track of time in his growing frustration with Romeo, and how Ned is quite convinced that he is who they should blame for all the deaths, but Peter doesn't think so. He'd stopped looking at the clock so desperately, awaiting his aunt's return. He hadn't realized she'd be home so soon.
In hindsight, maybe he should have called her to know what was going on in the last hour.
Whoops?
Ned shoves to his feet behind Peter (and though Peter can't see it, he can pretty well picture the innocent smile on Ned's lips). "Hi, Mrs. Parker." Ned says, cheerily.
May's lips thin slightly and she shifts her gaze from the two heads poking over the edge of the couch, sliding her hands onto her hips. She's frustrated. She only does the hip-thing when she's vexed and wants to yell, but has decided above doing it. Peter would honestly prefer being shouted at then receive the look for the next half an hour.
Yep, he definitely should have called.
May's hair is slightly messy; the bun was likely bobby-pinned into place this morning, but has fallen apart as the day has worn on. Her clothing is rumpled and she looks tired, she probably has about a negative six on wanting-to-deal-with-this scale. Guilt swims through his stomach; he wasn't really thinking about how this might effect May.
He should have just taken the two siblings to a hospital, suit on or not. It would have been less stressful for his aunt and everyone else.
May's gaze flickers towards the two men again, before she parts her lips with what looks like some effort, "You didn't tell me we were going to have guests."
He didn't know this morning, either. Can someone actually plan to assist two random dudes wandering around into their schedule? Peter glances at Ned helplessly, "I—um, they're not…" Peter trails awkwardly, trying to figure out how to explain this to her with actual words rather than just hoping if he stares hard enough, she'll understand. Not here willingly? That won't sound good, Peter is already trying to convince himself that he and Ned didn't kidnap them, and telling May they did will sort of ruin that. He wishes he'd written down what he planned on saying.
May waits patiently, hands shifting to fold across her chest. He'll be lucky if he's only grounded for a week after this. The rest of his life is a better bet.
"They asked for my help." Peter offers weakly. "They sort of passed out at my feet and I didn't really know what to do, but the dark-haired guy asked me to help them."
May's eyebrow lifts, asking for an elaboration.
Peter turns to Ned pleading with him quietly to assist, but his surrogate brother looks just as helpless as he is. Drat. It would be easier to just explain everything, Peter guesses, but there's honestly not a colossal amount to dive into. Peter's lips thin, "I was doing stuff...you know, in the suit," May's fingers clench reflexively. She doesn't feel comfortable with Peter's activities as a vigilante, so he usually tries to keep the amount he talks about it to a minimum. It's hard with the nightmares of the Vulture because he isn't sure if he can go to her for them, so he usually doesn't. Peter is just relieved that she supports his decision to use his powers for hero-work the best that she can and hasn't wrapped him in bubble wrap then moved them both to Australia in a safe bunker to spend the rest of their days in bomb suits. She's always been a tad bit overprotective, but after Uncle Ben, it's only really gotten worse. Peter tries his best to not mind.
Peter forces his tongue to continue, but it's heavy against the roof of his mouth now, "Anyway," he clears his throat, "I saw them wandering around and went to talk to them, 'cause they didn't exactly look super great, and the dark-haired dude asked me to help and then passed out. They had this weird glowy-thing, so I didn't feel comfortable taking them to a hospital or police, I called Ned and we took them here instead. You're a nurse, so I figured…" He trails.
May gnaws at her lower lip, but she processes Peter's words before asking, ""Glowy-thing"?"
Peter glances at Ned who scrambles towards the living room where they left the humming staff-thing on the coffee table, and the teen reemerges into the kitchen ten seconds later the staff in hand. Peter's spider sense hums lowly in the back of his mind, insisting: threat, threat, threat.
Peter presses a hand against his temple as casually as he can to try and rub the sensation away. It doesn't help much.
Threat, threat, thre—
Shut. Up.
May shifts forward and squints, shoving her glasses up her face and stares at the staff for a long moment, her expression getting tighter. She shakes her head slightly and lifts a hand out to poke at the gem. The spider-sense all but blares in warning like an emergency warning on a sinking ship in the back of his skull.
THREAT, THREAT, THREAT, THRE—
Peter swiftly moves forward and grabs his aunt's wrist preventing her from touching the stone. Neither Peter or Ned have tried to since finding the two siblings; both of them stared at the glowing part and then looked at each other the science parts of their brains going, "dangerous, don't touch without proper equipment". They are both curious, of course, to what it is, but Peter or Ned want to accidentally set it off it off it's some sort of bomb.
It might as well be for how much his spider sense loathes it.
May stares at him, her expression slightly irritated, "Don't touch it." Peter says, firmly. May nods and Peter releases her hand before she draws it back to her side.
"Do either of you have any idea what it is?" May asks, staring between the two of them. Peter and Ned share a look. Honestly, nope, they've got no clue. Peter just has his fingers crossed that it's not an explosive. If it is, Mr. Stark may actually murder him in frustration at his stupidity.
"Um, no." Ned answers honestly when Peter's lips part to say "sort of" in an effort to soothe his aunt's nerves. May sighs deeply and glances towards the two men.
"They passed out?" She inquires, "That's why you took them here? You want me to see if we can help them here then send them on their way, or if we actually have to take them to a hospital?" She guesses. Peter nods.
She lifts a finger towards him. "Fine. But if that does turn out to be some sort of bomb and it denotes, I am grounding you in the afterlife."
She too, apparently does not feel comfortable turning the staff-thing into the possessions section of a hospital filled with ill people, that if it does explode would be mass chaos. Which wouldn't be good. They could call the police, but at this point, it's a little strange, "hey, yeah, we found these guys and they passed out and kidnapped them, will you help?"
Spider-Man already isn't in the highlight of the news (thanks a million J.J. Jameson) and this probably wouldn't appeal to the public eye much.
"Fair enough," Peter shrugs to her promise.
Ned laughs and as May moves towards the kitchen sink, she jabs a finger out towards him, "I'll ground you, too, your mother's permission or not."
Ned frowns, "But—" He starts to protest.
"You want my help or not?" May demands, "That's our agreement. Put that thing on the table—no, the coffee table, I don't want it in here. It feels strange."
So she noticed that too. Ned moves to the living room and sets the staff-thing onto the surface, his spider sense quiets the agonizing thrum to a dull throb. May releases a slight exhale, then frowns before setting her bag on the counter and moving to wash her hands. She applies a generous amount of hand soap into her left palm. She looks over at Peter with a frown, "Why can't you just be like a normal teenager and bring home a dog?"
Ask that to the spider that bit him, he has no other answer.
Peter lets out a shaky laugh, "I don't think we'd be able to keep it alive." He remarks. Ned snorts loudly from the living room and May shoots him an unhappy look, waving a soapy hand in his direction.
"That is so not true." She argues. Really? Both of them are busy a large majority of the time with May working doubles whenever she can and Peter's alter ego running around. Peter hardly has time for anything with school and Spider-Man, anyway. Trying to feed, walk, and care for a dog thrown into the mix? No thank you. They'd have have to give the poor animal away before they accidentally murdered it. Uncle Ben always wanted a dog, but Peter had severe allergies to animals before the spider-bite so they couldn't get any pets. They could now, though, Peter doesn't have any problems with the hair.
Ned (having moved beside him again) and Peter raise an eyebrow in an almost perfect synchronization to May's comment as Ned apparently connects the same dots Peter did. Animal living here: bad.
May frowns and shakes her head before turning off the faucet and wiping her hands on a towel to dry them before resting the dish towel on the counter top next to her purse. She pushes her glasses up her nose before sighing heavily, again, and moves towards the living room.
Peter and Ned trail after her like lost puppies. May kneels down in front of the dark-haired man and turns to Peter, "He was awake, right?"
"Yeah," Peter answers, his memory flashing back to a few hours ago. The staggering stumble with the blond man's arm swung over his shoulder like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
'Help him, please.'
Peter shakes the memory from the forefront of his mind, "The blond-guy wasn't."
May hums and leans forward lifting the right eyelid of the dark-haired man and then the left. "His pupils aren't dilated, or uneven; no head injury," she lists aloud. Peter has a brief sense of recurring accomplishment at managing to prevent the raven-haired man's head from smacking against the ground face-first about an hour ago.
May rests a hand against the man's forehead and her eyebrows meet together, "Peter, go get the thermometer." She commands. Peter nods and scrambles to obey her order, quickly skirting around the back of the couch and moving down the hallway. Thermometer, thermometer...where would that be? The bathroom, maybe?
Peter ducks inside said room, flicking on the light and pulls open the cabinet above the sink where a large majority of May's medical supplies are. She used to stick them up at the top of a closet in their other apartment, but since the move, space has been tight. Peter is admittedly a little grateful, when he gets injured as Spider-Man (even though they do have an agreement that he's supposed to tell her) he can usually patch the wound up easier than beforehand.
He can't recall seeing a thermometer, though. Peter shuffles through the supplies pulling out a box of band-aids and resting it on the counter, then pulling out a bottle of aloe vera, and shoving other stuff to the side before he locates the box with the thermometer in it. May has an serious aversion towards thermometers that are placed in the mouth (even if they are more accurate) and bought one that just has to lifted to a forehead and scan the temperature that way. Peter shed no tears over May tossing out the tongue-thermometer.
Peter grabs the box it resides in and scrambles to pull the top off then remove the small device into his hand that reminds him strongly of a curved deodorant can. Peter doesn't bother with shoving the band aids and aloe vera back into the cabinet (he'll just have to pull it all out again, anyway) and slides out of the bathroom moving towards the living room.
May's fingers are pressed against Raven-hair's neck, likely feeling the pulse. Her expression doesn't look happy. "Here," Peter says and holds the thermometer to her, May takes it from him and lifts it towards Raven-hair pressing the "read-temperature button" and waits for a moment. She lifts it up towards her eyes and her lips part with slight disbelief.
Peter attempts to glance at what it is, but his aunt flicks the device up towards his head like it's some sort of gun and Peter freezes as she presses the button then looks down at the device again. "Ninety-seven point four, Fahrenheit," she murmurs, "it's working." She doesn't seem happy with this. Peter has never really retained body heat well, but after the spider-bite this issue has only gotten worse. Peter is actually quite proud, this is one of the warmest temperatures he's managed to hold steady for months.
May flicks the device at Ned and pulls it back a moment later, "Ninety-eight point six, Fahrenheit," she reads aloud and shakes her head again before lifting to towards Raven-hair. She flicks the button and both Ned and himself lean over her shoulder to read it.
Eighty-five point three, Fahrenheit.
What the heck? How is he not shivering? He is literally in the midst of hypothermia and nearing the severity of it. This is ridiculous. Not shivering when you're this cold is bad. Very bad. "Ned," May addresses, her voice taking on the calm tone she attains when she's starting to panic. "You know where the extra blankets are right?"
Ned nods, he sleeps over here often enough that they should just label the blankets as "Ned's", "Go grab me a couple." May commands and Ned nods, shifting towards the hallway. May's frown deepens and she lifts Raven-hair's wrist slightly then pinches at the skin on the back of his hand. It doesn't immediately retain its shape and Peter's lips thin. Dehydration.
"He's heart rate is slower than I'd like, but it isn't terrible, he's dehydrated and suffering severe hypothermia. You're positive he was the one that was awake?" May demands, looking back at him.
Peter nods.
May presses against his wrist again, then works her way up his hand and frowns before pulling up the other pale hand and playing with his fingers for a moment, "Four of his fingers are broken and dislocated." She notes, then lifts her head.
"Ned!" May yells.
"Yeah?" Ned calls from the hallway, his voice is slightly muffled.
"Grab the medical tape in the bathroom, too!"
"Okay!" Ned calls.
Peter turns to her, "Are you going to set his fingers?" He demands; the thought unsettles him. Peter broke his pinky and fourth finger in third grade after falling off of the monkey bars and he asked to be kept awake so he could see what they did. The sound was disgusting and the feeling even more so. He forever regrets the decision.
May shrugs helplessly, "I haven't decided yet, but probably." She answers, looking up as Ned re-enters the room, blankets in hand and the medical tape's paperboard outer covering in his mouth. May rises to her feet and takes one of the fleece blankets from him with a Darth Vader mask on the back, it's the one that Uncle Ben got for Peter on his thirteenth Birthday, two years ago.
May covers Raven-haired in the blanket then grabs the three others setting them on the ground at the foot of the couch, taking the medical tape from Ned as he offers it out towards her. May frowns and tugs the tape from his hands and pulls off the plastic covering tossing it onto the coffee table beside the staff-thing still thrumming softly.
May pulls up the blanket somewhat to lift up Raven-haired's hands and extracts them from within the cocoon of the blanket. Peter didn't really notice until now, but his fingers are bruised with slight purple, black and a yellowish-green. In his defense, Peter wasn't exactly looking for any bruises. Sort of. He didn't want to damage them so he was looking for anything severe. This apparently didn't pop up as life threatening.
May pulls his fingers straight with one hand and pokes at his fourth finger with her other, "I think it's just fractured," she notes, then turns to him.
"Peter, come hold this." She says and Peter moves to kneel next to her, taking Raven-hair's fingers and straining them to be straight as May pulls out a long length of the light brown medical tape then begins to wrap his fourth and middle finger together. She pushes at his fifth finger for a moment before wrapping the proximal phalanx straight and tugs up his right hand, letting the left fall limply to his lap.
After wrapping his forth, middle and pointer finger together to support the pointer and forth, she wraps the metacarpal bone of his thumb, and continues the position the tape around his palm, but halts as she reaches his beginning of his thin, pale wrist.
She cuts the tape for the final time and pushes the edge against Raven-hair's pale skin. Her lips thin and she sits back on her heels. She exhales before sitting up and shifting towards blond-guy. "Ned, put a few more blankets on him."
May moves and takes the wrist of blond-guy, feeling for his pulse. Her lips thin and Peter watches from the corner of his eye as Ned dumps two more of the blankets across Raven-hair. May grabs the thermometer from where she left it on the ground a few minutes ago and lifts it towards Blond-guy, pressing the "read temperature".
May humphs slightly, "One-hundred exact."
Peter lifts an eyebrow in disbelief. So one of them is suffering from severe hypothermia, and the other has a (if minor) fever? How does that work? May lifts Blond-guy's left eye lid slightly and squints. "It's not dilated," she notes and then stares at the bandages wrapped around his right one, apprehensively.
"Peter, go get me an ice pack from the freezer," she demands. Peter's lips thin as he realizes what she's doing: attempting to get him away from the scene as she pulls back the wound to stare at it. It's not like the guy's entire eye is going to be missing or something. It will probably just be a little bruised and possibly black. Nothing more.
Nonetheless, Peter complies.
He slides away from the couch and moves towards the kitchen pulling open the freezer and digging through the frozen foods tugging out the blue pack spinning on his heal as May gasps loudly and releases a lusty swear.
"What?" Peter exclaims and scrambles to grab a towel from a drawer and move towards them as Ned looks over and apparently immediately regrets his decision as he pales, pressing a hand against his mouth.
"Oh, yuck." Ned groans.
"What?" He repeats. Peter reaches the back of the couch and swings around the side, standing next to May and the ice pack slips from his fingers landing at his feet next to May's knee.
Blond-guy's eye is gone. There's just a messy bloody patch where the eye should be that is ghastly. The wound is leaking a slight yellow puss and the bandage that was wrapped around it (now resting on the couch cushions between the two siblings) is stained with the same substances. The sight of it is beyond repulsive.
May slowly lowers her hand from her mouth, murmuring something under her breath before squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "Okay, okay," she whispers before opening her eyes again with some effort and leans forward.
"Ned, go get the gauze from the bathroom and a wet rag, Peter, I want you to help me clean this out when he gets back."
Peter resists the urge to vomit, but nods, his lips pressing together firmly.
He will not throw up, he will not throw up, he will not throw up.
The procedure is nasty and Peter wants to hurl the entire way through and almost does about twice before they complete their mission. With Blond-guy's eye wrapped and clean, May rises to her feet to clean her hands off in the sink as Peter sits down numbly on the coffee table next to the staff-thing.
His spider sense hums in the back of his skull at the displeasure of being close to the staff-thing and Peter wants to smack his head against the nearest wall.
It is fine. It hasn't exploded, yet, so that's a good sign.
So why won't it (his spider sense) just shut up?
Peter steeples his hands under his nose and watches as Ned sits back against one of the arm chairs present in this room, his lips thinned. Peter's going to be sick.
Sick, sick, sick.
May returns from the kitchen and exhales, "Alright, I want to take them to a hospital to get his eye checked," she points at Blond-guy, "and his hypothermia at least, but I think it can wait until they wake up. We just need to keep bringing his temperature up and it should be fine. I think. I didn't see anything life threatening, so I think we'll be okay. For now."
Peter nods and Ned echoes his movement shakily.
It's a little past seven PM and they still haven't had dinner, but Peter isn't hungry. He's as far from hungry as he can be, at the moment, which is strange. Ever since the bite, his metabolism increased ridiculously and he usually feels hungry all the time.
"I think…" Peter pauses, but glances at the men again. May can't skip work to care for them, they've been tight on money since Uncle Ben's death, but Peter can be sick from school. Someone has to stay and keep them from dying. "I should call in sick at school for the next few days."
May's expression twists, "Peter, I don't—"
"May, think about it," Peter insists, "you can't skip work, I can be "sick" for a few days."
"But you'll have no idea what you're doing!" May argues, "I'm the certified medical expert."
"Then tell me," Peter protests, "I can get it."
May frowns.
Peter bites his tongue, "Please."
"I don't know, Peter, I don't—I don't feel comfortable with this. What if they wake up and attack you?" May demands.
Irritation and minor offense rattle through him momentarily and he forces himself to bite it back. He's Spider-Man, he fights criminals (sort of) on a daily basis, it's not as though he's helpless.
Far from it, in fact.
"May," Ned interjects, "Peter's got a point, he can stay and watch them," he jerks a thumb at the two siblings, "I can take his homework over and stuff."
May frowns, unhappily. She is very against this and Peter groans then buries his head inside his hands. He doesn't just want to sit around and do nothing; he got them into this mess, he should at least help as much as he's able.
May lets out a ragged breath, and Peter peaks through his fingers. May is staring at him, her expression furrowed, but laced with frustration. She throws up her hands, "Fine. But if anything and I mean anything becomes to much for you to handle, you call me, and I mean that, call me."
000o000
Ned goes home a little after eight PM, and he and May have an awkward dinner of cold cereal before going to bed. Peter hardly sleeps, his mind wandering around and round with the endless amount of possibilities that could go wrong or badly and hears May get up to check on their guests over six times. Before they went to bed, May wrote out a list of things Peter needs to check for and explained a large majority of the symptoms he should call her for then handed him the paper.
When it finally hits six AM, Peter all but leaps out of bed and changes clothes before meeting May in the hallway leading towards the kitchen. Her hair is in a loose ponytail and she's wearing her work clothes. She's going in early so she can come back sooner.
Peter trails her into the kitchen, "I called the school; you've got contagious strep throat." She announces as she pulls food stuffs out for breakfast. Peter nods at her statement and turns to glance back at the two men. Neither has shifted much from when he saw them before going to bed last night; Peter doesn't know whether or not this is comforting.
May eats quickly and though Peter attempts to follow the suit, the food swirls around his stomach and doesn't do much else but aid his desire to vomit. Admittedly, he's not looking forward to being on babysitting duty. If it was just watching them, not a problem, but making sure they don't accidentally kick the bucket (though that probability is low, occurring to May) is a whole different level.
Maybe he should put on the Spider-Man mask so he can have Karen monitor their vitals and tell him if something is going horribly wrong. As soon as the idea pops into his head, it grows in volume and desire.
It will be fine.
He won't kill them on accident. Probably.
When seven fifteen AM arrives, May presses a kiss on his forehead and ruffles his hair, "I'll be back in a few hours, call, okay?"
"Okay." Peter repeats, giving her a tight smile. She sighs and rests her hands on his shoulders for a moment, something that he can't place settling in her eyes. She releases him and moves to the door.
"I love you!" She calls out.
"You too!" Peter answers, "Good luck!"
The door shuts leaving Peter by himself in the apartment that has never been so quiet in his life. It admittedly aggravates his nerves more than should be necessary. It's not as though there's any monsters running around that will eat him. Calm down.
Peter's been alone at the apartment before, it's not as though this is the first time. So why does it feel so different?
Peter gnaws at his inner lip for a few moments, attempting to calm his fraying nerves. His spider sense has been on high alert ever since he found the two siblings and their weird staff-thing. He is going to place the blame of this weary uncomfortableness on that. Yep. Totally his spider-senses fault. Nothing else.
Peter shifts to his room and collapses onto the bed like some sort of pathetic floppy jell-o and buries his head into his pillow. He's exhausted from lack of sleep, but not actually tired enough to return to dream world.
This is piquing.
Peter digs the palms of his hands into his eyes for a second and releases a loud raspberry. He wishes he could get in contact with Mr. Stark, but he's texted Happy six times since Nine PM last night, and the man still hasn't responded yet. Mr. Stark would probably whack him over the head for stupidity, then solve the problem.
Peter can take the whack, he just has no idea what to do.
They should take them to a hospital, for certain, but the stupid staff-glowy thing keeps getting in the way. Yeah, they could just not give it to the authorities, but what if is bomb and detonates in their apartment? Then they would be dead, and May would ground him.
He's starting to regret his decision, intensely.
Peter rolls onto his back and reaches his hand out for his phone his fingers wrapping around the cool metal a few seconds later. He pushes the power button and flicks his pass code in, sliding to his contacts again. Karen said that Mr. Stark was busy, he shouldn't bother him at the moment, but he needs assistance or at least reassurance or he might just spontaneously combust and it would be messy to clean up.
Peter hesitates for a long moment.
She could get in contact with Mr. Stark, but what if it bothers her?
She said he could call at any time, well, more like Mr. Stark said that he could call her at any time.
Peter holds his hand over the call button for Mrs. Stark, but stops and presses the power button for his phone. He doesn't want to bother her, she's probably busy. Besides, he's sixteen, he doesn't need someone to hold his hand.
Pepper Stark (née Potts) and Peter have only met a few times since Peter ran into Mr. Stark several months ago after Peter stopped the Vulture from taking Mr. Stark's head, Tony and Pepper have been married for three, almost four years now and Peter still finds it strange that he actually knows Tony Stark's wife and has her number. Most of the time, since she is CEO of Stark Industries, she seems like a figure that someone can admire from afar, but not actually speak with.
All of the Avengers are like that and Peter has their personal numbers. It never ceases to blow his mind when he remembers this. Peter tugs his sleeves over his hands and tosses the phone against the desk where it clatters amongst the school junk.
He flinches at the sound, then buries his head into his chest breathing deeply.
For Christmas, he would like a brain to reside in the empty space between his ears. All there is now, is an vacant chasm that is pathetically large. Peter lets out a loud moan of frustration.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.
The time passes in an aggravating slowness. Peter checks on the two siblings every half hour, readjusts the blankets on Raven-hair (whose temperature has barely risen by anything) checks the other's temperature and retreats to his room.
He catches up on all the homework he's been falling behind in, starts the third Harry Potter again, but finds himself too restless to get into it and manages to organize his room before growing bored again. Finally, after three PM, he begins to work on studying for his Spanish quiz by wandering around and listing everything he can in Spanish while making snotty comments to himself about some of the objects. It's not exactly ideal, but it's one of the only ways he can keep his brain from rotting.
A little after three thirty, he re-enters the kitchen/living room area to check on the siblings, but freezes in place with incredulity.
When he'd wandered past, not ten minutes ago, both were still out and didn't look like they'd move for days.
Now?
Raven-hair is sitting up, his fingers on the bandage around Blond-guy's eye as if adjusting it, but he freezes in place as Peter steps into his line of sight. His green eyes are wide, but don't look quite as glassy as they did yesterday when Peter found the two. Dark fine hair is falling around his face and over his shoulders in choppy, thin layers that split down the middle.
All of the blankets have been tossed onto the floor, but Raven-hair still isn't shivering. It's ridiculous. Peter stands there for another step, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot before moving forward slowly.
"You need those." He points at the blankets and the man's eyes follow his finger, but he doesn't twitch.
"The blankets," Peter explains, "you have major hypothermia."
The man stares at him blankly.
Peter frowns, he understands what Peter's saying, right? He was speaking English to Peter yesterday when he was asking for help with his sibling, but maybe he only knows a few words in the language, rather than is actually fluent. Peter's eyebrows meet, "You understand what I'm saying, right?"
The green eyed stare flicks from the ceiling to Peter's feet and his lips part, "Who are you?" He whispers. His voice is still croaky and dry.
Water, Peter remembers abruptly, May was insistent that he give them water if they woke up while she was gone. Wait. He just asked who he is. Peter was in the suit yesterday, right. Well, secret identity is sort of a no-can-do now for these two, "I'm Peter. Peter Parker," Peter says. "I was the guy you ran into yesterday, do you remember me, or...?" He trails.
"I know your voice." The man murmurs, almost immediately; his voice has a slight desperate note. He slowly lowers his broken, fractured fingers from the other's face and rests them on his lap, playing with the frayed edges of his shirt.
His entire posture just screams "uncomfortable!". It makes Peter wary.
"Do you want some water?" Peter inquires.
The man's gaze lifts to his as if surprised. He glances at his sibling for a moment then looks up at him again, "I…" He pauses, clearing his throat, but when he speaks his voice isn't much louder, "what would I have to do in return?"
Peter stares at him.
Um, what? Peter offered, he doesn't want something for giving this dude a basic element of survival. Why on earth would he?
"Nothing?" Peter states, though when it slips from his tongue, it sounds more like a question. The man's lips twitch, a vague panic lighting in his eyes. Does he seriously need Peter to say that he wants something? This is ridiculous. Fine! "Um, I'll get you the water, for your name's, okay?" Peter corrects himself. Names would be helpful. It might assist them in figuring out where they came from.
The man doesn't exactly relax, but he does appear to calm somewhat at the compromise.
Peter frowns and moves to the kitchen to get a glass, when he returns to the living room, Raven-hair is taking the pulse of his sibling. Something isn't wrong, right? Peter just checked them, they were pretty okay from what he could tell and what May told him to look for. He didn't slack, right? Right?
Raven-hair looks at him again and Peter lifts the glass towards him, but he doesn't take it. Erm…? Raven-hair's gaze flickers towards the other and he releases his wrist. "I am Luke, and he is my brother, Terence."
Oh.
Peter wasn't sure what names he was expecting, but he didn't really think either of those to be high on the list. He lifts the glass out towards Luke again and he seems to hesitate for a moment before carefully reaching up to take it from him. Peter notices that Luke's persnickety to keep his fingers as far away as possible from Peter's, a surprisingly impressive feet given his broken and fractured fingers.
Peter wishes he'd thought about that before handing the glass over, Luke doesn't appear to be bothered by his broken hands, however. He drinks a small sip of the liquid before downing the entire glass as if it's the last time he'll see water for weeks. When he's finished, he holds the glass in his hands and stares at the base.
"Do you want more?" Peter asks.
Luke stares up at him, eyes wide. "I…" He glances at Terence then shakes his head. He glances at Peter, "Can...can I ask where we are?"
Why can he not?
Peter shrugs, "Yeah, I don't mind Mr. Luke. You're in Queens, New York."
Luke's eyes enlarge a fraction and he glances down at his broken fingers before looking up at him, "New York as in...New York, Midgard?" There's something close to a horrified note on his tongue. Midgard? What the heck is a midgard? Is it some sort of country? Peter can't remember even vaguely hearing of one called that, though.
"Midgard?" Peter prods.
"Earth." Luke states, almost as if correcting a slip up. How you accidentally get "midgard" and Earth mixed up is beyond him. Maybe he's from another country and midgard means Earth in that language?
"I do not understand, we should not…" Luke trails, looking at his hands again. His tone sounds like Peter revealed that someone kicked his puppy.
Peter huffs quietly, "Queens may not be the golden city of Manhattan, but it's not that bad." He argues. His tone is teasing, but Luke doesn't take it as such.
Luke's fingers twitch and he presses his lips together firmly, flicking his gaze to the gray carpet. "I apologize; I meant no offense."
"None taken," Peter assures, "you look tired, you can go back to sleep; I'll try not to let either one of you die."
Luke lifts his tired eyes towards him, wide. They are shadowed heavily, and though he's been sleeping for over nineteen hours, he seems to still be exhausted, he doesn't look very old with his face lifted to the light like this. Maybe his early twenties at most, over eighteen at least. Peter shoves the thought to the side, he instead focuses on the growing look of chary.
Peter laughs, "I'm just joking Mr. Luke. I know what I'm doing—" liar, liar, liar, "—you'll both be fine. I'll just take the glass," he leans forward to grab it, but Luke shoves it up towards him as if it will cause him bodily harm not to. Peter raises an eyebrow slightly, but takes the glass. He lifts one of the blankets towards Luke who grimaces faintly at the sight of it.
Peter would be begging for warmth if he was as cold as Luke is currently, why he's unhappy at the sight of warmth, he has no idea.
Peter tosses it towards him and Luke flinches as it hits him, but Peter pretends not to notice and starts to move towards the kitchen to put the glass in the sink, "I'm just going to be back here," he announces, "holler if you need anything."
Peter rests the cup in the sink and then sits down at the table, plucking his phone (that he stole off his desk a few hours ago) from his jeans pocket and turns it on. After replying to Ned's "are you dead?" text with a "not yet" he opens his digital copy of Jedi Apprentice: A Dangerous Rescue by Judy Blundell. He manages to finish three chapters before he hears the rhythm of Luke's breathing even out to indicate uneasy sleep.
Author's Note: Has anyone else ever written twenty plus pages with an injured finger in a day? No...? Yep, that's me, the idiot who looked at the medical tape wrapped around my hand and proclaimed "you shall not defeat me, villain!". I regret it, like ow, ow, ow. Anyway, I actually still don't have everything planned out, but I do have a basic idea now...kind of.
Thank you guys so much for your favs/follows and reviews (seriously, I feel like I can't express this enough)! I shall attempt to post chapter 3 on August 17th, so until then! :)