Hey guys! I hope you still remember this story because here's a brand new chapter for you! The last one was fluffy but this one... well, not so much. You'll see.

Thank you for your support!

Disclaimer: no, I don't own Marvel. I wish.

The dinner with Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton – no, Clint – was really fun. Much more fun than Peter had expected. Because the men told him stories about missions, picking the craziest, weirdest ones. They were pretty eager to embarrass each other; actually it was like a competition, they tried to figure out who could embarrass the other more. There was a story when Hawkeye ran out of arrows and Iron Man had to save him from a throng of Hydra soldiers and he could only grab Clint's ankle, so he flew away with him while the archer was hanging in this not too elegant position, upside down. Clint retaliated with his own story: the one when Iron Man's suit malfunctioned on a particularly hot day in South Africa and Mr. Stark couldn't open it and Clint had to use an arrowhead to crack it open and let out a very sweaty engineer.

Yeah, it was an awesome night. Peter tried to memorize every little detail so that he could tell Ned later.

Then Clint said goodbye to them and went to sleep, saying he needed his beauty sleep, after all they had returned from Mexico only that morning. Mr. Stark also looked very tired and although he offered Peter to watch a movie together, he passed out on the couch only after a few minutes. Not that Peter minded. As long as Mr. Stark was here with him, safe and sound, he didn't mind that the man was sleeping.

But now the movie is over and Peter doesn't want to go to bed. He's been sleeping so much in the last few days that he definitely couldn't fall asleep now. He grabs the remote and flips through channels. Nothing seems to catch his attention though. That is until he can see huge flames on the screen. It's a report on a fire in an apartment building. Peter's eyes go wide when he realizes the burning building is only three blocks from the Tower. If he walked to the window, he could probably see the flames from here. On the TV he can see firefighters bringing out people from the building. Most of them seem only scared, coughing and looking up at the remains of their homes, but there are several injured people, too, surrounded by paramedics. The reporter says there are still several people in the building.

Peter sighs and glances over at the sleeping form of Mr. Stark. What should he do? Should he go out to help saving those people? It's not Queens, but it's not like Peter can be Spiderman only in Queens, right? He should help wherever help is needed.

But Mr. Stark definitely wouldn't be happy to find Peter gone when he wakes up. The man has just returned home and there had been that fiasco with Peter's suit before he left. But they're good now, right? And yes, Peter promised him not to go out to patrol but only until Mr. Stark returned. And now he's here, so even though they didn't talk about it, Peter can be Spiderman again, right? And those people need him.

Okay, it's settled then. Peter drapes a blanket over Mr. Stark, quietly promises that he would be back soon and runs into his room to grab his suit.

A minute later, Spiderman swings towards the fire.

In retrospect, it was a bad idea. A very bad one.

Okay, going to the fire, offering his help to the firefighters was a brilliant idea. Although they seemed surprised, no, they were shocked when Spiderman walked up to them, but as the burning building was big and there were still a lot of people inside, they were grateful for the assistance. Spiderman helped nine people find their way out the building in the heavy smoke; he guided four more to the firefighters and carried out three unconscious ones on his back. Then Karen told him the building was finally empty, so he decided to head home. The suit was covered in grime and smelled terribly, but all in all it was a successful night. And the whole operation took only an hour. Satisfied, he shot a web to swing back to the Tower. He hoped Mr. Stark was still asleep.

But while he was in the air, he heard a gunshot underneath him. He looked down and saw at least a dozen men in an alley. One of them was lying on the ground, clutching his leg.

"Karen, what's going on down there?" Spiderman asked, landing on a ledge that seemed like a perfect spot to watch the events underneath.

"There are fourteen people there, Peter, all of them are armed; they have guns and knives."

It looked like two teams facing each other, two teams of very angry people with weapons in their hands. They were obviously waiting for someone to make the first move so they could all attack.

"Karen, it looks like we're in the middle of a gang battle. They are about to kill each other. And it's not like the police will arrive anytime soon," Spiderman frowned looking back at the fire. Yeah, everyone was down there, so these gangs could do whatever they wanted now.

"I disagree, Peter," Karen said calmly. "We are not, as you put it, in the middle of a gang battle. They don't know you're here."

"Yeah, but-"

"There are fourteen armed men down there, Peter," the AI interrupted him. "I think you should either let me alert the police so that they can handle this or ask for the Avengers' help."

Spiderman groaned. Karen was wrong. The policed was obviously busy elsewhere and even if Karen had alerted them, could they get here in time? And as for the Avengers… no. No, no, no. There was no way he would wake them up because of fourteen losers who didn't have a better idea what to do tonight.

"I got this, Karen, don't worry," he answered confidently. "Just a few webs and we can get rid of those ugly weapons. Easy-peasy."

And well, that was the bad idea. Because of course it wasn't as easy as Spiderman had expected. Then gangs might have hated each other, the people might have been ready to kill each other, but as soon as the superhero swung into action, they immediately united their forces against the new, common enemy who was stupid enough to interrupt their party.

So here is Spiderman now, clumsily crawling through his bedroom window, falling onto the floor while clutching his left leg, fingers pressing into a bleeding gash. Hurts, hurts, hurts!

He should have seen the knife coming. He should have known just because that thug was lying on the ground, he was still dangerous with that huge knife in his hand. He should have webbed him up when he knocked him down and most of all, he should have got rid of the knife. Because when Spiderman was fighting with another gang member, the goon just reached up with his knife and cut the superhero's leg. He didn't even feel it first. The fight was over soon after that, Spiderman disarmed and webbed up the bad guys, but then the adrenaline ran off and he could feel the hot white pain flaring up in his leg. Karen didn't have to beg him to return to the Tower.

But now he's panting on the floor in his room, the intense pain making it almost impossible to exist, let alone think. There are dark spots dancing around the edge of his vision.

"Peter, are you alright? Should I call boss?" Friday asks him worriedly.

He frowns. Life is hard with two AIs who always act like mother hens!

"Is Mr. Stark still asleep?" he manages through the pain.

"Yes, Peter. But I can wake him up."

"No!" he all but yells. "I mean no, Friday, that's not necessary," he clarifies a tad calmer. "It's just a cut. I can take care of it myself."

He can't really think coherently from the pain, but there's one thing he's absolutely sure about: he can't let Mr. Stark know. He should let the man sleep. He shouldn't disturb him with a nuisance like this. Even the mere thought is ridiculous.

But obviously, he couldn't convince Friday, because the AI tries again.

"Are you sure, Peter? Boss asked me to tell him whenever you're injured."

"Okay, but there's no reason to tell him about every little scratch, right?" he laughs nervously. If only Friday left him alone! Then he could try to focus and figure out what to do next. "I promise to tell Mr. Stark if I feel worse and need help, okay?" he offers.

Friday seems to accept the idea. "Aright, Peter, as you wish."

He sighs. He knows he can't stay like this forever, lying on the floor, clutching his leg. He needs to clean the wound and bandage it. It's not that deep but it might need stitches. But to do all this, he should get up and that seems like an awful idea. More so, it seems impossible.

But he grits his teeth. He has just defeated two gangs. He can totally do this. Piece of cake. He has to do this. He just needs to stitch himself up and then he can lie down and sleep and forget about it. Sounds like an amazing plan.

He takes a deep breath, frantically trying to push the pain into the back of his mind. But when he is about to move, to start the undoubtedly slow and painful process to get on his feet, or at least on one foot, that stupid wound flares up again and he feels like he's been stabbed once again. The pain feels so real and so unbearable that he glances down at his leg to check there's no knife sticking out of it.

Okay, new plan.

More or less, he patched himself up at the scene already. Meaning he covered the cut with web like he always does. It was ideal to stop the bleeding and not to leave a red trail behind leading to the Tower. And it should be good for a while. So resting first, taking care of the cut later. Yeah, that sounds much better. And the floor is not that bad. It's hard, sure but not cold, it's gonna be okay.

He's just resting his eyes a bit. Then he's going to get up, go or maybe crawl into the bathroom, grab the medical kit from under the sink, clean the wound and stitch himself up. It's gonna be easy, it's not like he's never done it before. Okay, stabbing himself with a needle doesn't sound very appealing but he can manage. Just not now. Later.

When the pain is better and breathing doesn't seem like an impossible job. He tugs off his mask. That's better.

He hopes the injury will heal soon. If he limps tomorrow morning, Mr. Stark will definitely ask what happened. And they both know Peter can't lie.

And yes, Mr. Stark knows Peter gets injured from time to time while patrolling, he is aware that being a superhero is a dangerous job and you get hurt sometimes. He was there when Peter was shot at that bank robbery a while ago. But back then Peter didn't live at the Tower, Mr. Stark wasn't his guardian, he didn't take responsibility for him.

But now Peter is his responsibility and Peter is trouble. So much trouble. The dream of every parent, right? A kid who fights criminals and gets stabbed. Who comes home bleeding.

Peter is absolutely sure that this could be it. The last drop. When Mr. Stark decides he doesn't need this mess in his life. He doesn't need Peter in his life. He doesn't need a kid who sneaks out into fires and jumps into gang battles and then bleeds all over the carpet.

Tears fill his eyes and he doesn't know what hurts more. The gash on his leg or the thought of having to leave Mr. Stark. The latter. Definitely the latter. He doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay.

Geez, Karen was right. She was right when she told him stopping two gangs was a bad idea. It wasn't his fault that those people wanted to kill each other. Why did he have to interfere?

He was so dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

And here he is now, bleeding and crying and panting and tormenting.

His eyelids flutter.

Maybe he should ask Friday to call Mr. Stark.

"Peter, I think I should tell boss that-" the AI starts as if she could read his thoughts.

"No!" he suddenly yells. What was he thinking? Mr. Stark can't know about this.

No.

It's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay.

He just needs to rest a bit.

Did you like it? I hope you did, because I loved writing this chapter :)

Do you think Tony will find out what happened or Peter will manage to hide his injury from him?

Thank you for reading!