In hindsight, Peter should have listened to Tony when he told him to cool it with Spider-Man for the week; after all, his mentor kinda lived in the middle of nowhere, so not only would he have to change at Midtown, but he'd also have to swing back to the cabin that was in the middle of the woods.

An isolated cabin was great for a retired superhero raising his daughter; not so much for the teenage superhero who tended to stick around the place when May's work schedule grew hectic.

Which it had, given that there was still fallout from The Blip that they were feeling even now in terms of people losing their homes, so FEAST had once again grown hectic with hundreds of people flocking to get a hot meal and a place to sleep which meant that Peter had once again been sent to stay with Tony, Pepper and Morgan.

That wasn't as bad as it was in the beginning; he had been sent there for the first time just three weeks after Tony had woken up from his coma and he had practically been a shell of the mentor he had grown to know in the two years after he had first been recruited by the billionaire.

At least now, Tony was back to his old self aside from the fact that he actually went to bed at an hour that ended in P.M and lack of a right arm. All in all, it could have been way worse for everyone involved.

But, as Peter was swinging back to the cabin, wincing at the sharp bite in his left shoulder that flared every time he extended the limb, he had a feeling that Tony wouldn't be happy with the current situation he had gotten himself into.

After all, it involved a guy dressed up in a scorpion suit, at least a hundred thousand dollars in property damage, blood slowly dripping down into his left eye from a cut on his forehead and the more then likely dislocated shoulder he was swinging back to the cabin with.

He didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that his A.I, Karen, was still being repaired which meant that she couldn't report back to FRIDAY and subsequently, Tony; but given that he had been asked to give it a rest for a week and the stabbing pain in his shoulder that was growing worse and worse, he was leaning toward bad.

Regardless, he still managed to carefully and quietly ease himself through the unlocked window of the guest room while biting back the deep ache in his shoulder.

Peter removed the mask first, allowing him to start rummaging through his things in order to find some gauze to the sluggish flow of blood dripping from his eye; the slight blur of red wasn't helping to quell the slow building panic starting to arise.

'Focus, Peter' he told himself as he pulled open a drawer and grabbed the medical kit that he stored next to his socks, flipping the clasp open before grabbing the gauze and tape, 'you have to heal up before Mr. Stark realizes.'

It wasn't like he would do anything as drastic as taking the suit, Peter was fully aware of how much he regretted making that decision; but he was also fully aware of the fact that he was a parent with nearly six years of experience and had his aunt who always counteracted his explanation of people getting hurt with "and now who's the hurt one?" on speed dial.

It hadn't been easier when no one knew but now it had a different set of challenges that were harder to get around than feigning an attack from a bully at school.

He fastened the gauze on his forehead with a strip of tape just as a set of knocks on his bedroom door set a shiver of shock up his spine.

"Peter?"

"Just a sec, Morg!" He called out, trying to make his voice as cheery as possible while knowing that until he got his throbbing shoulder back into his socket before it healed, he was not leaving the room.

"Dad said that if you want any dinner, you need to hurry."

"Okay, okay, I'm on my way." He let out a second white lie as he grabbed his bicep, forcing himself to take a long, deep breath at the first click from maneuvering his arm back where it belonged.

"But he also ordered a lot of barbecue, so I don't think you need to wor-"

"Morgan! Just go already!" He snapped as tears built up in his eyes with every single snap of protest coming from the partially healed joint, his mouth growing acidic as he gritted his teeth.

But when he heard her run down the stairs, no doubt with the same amount of water coating her eyes, he let go of his shoulder and sunk to the floor; even if he hadn't become quickly overwhelmed with rushing guilt, he desperately needed some pain killers to finish relocating his shoulder.

And like clockwork, the stairwell was only quiet for a couple of heartbeats until a much stronger, calmer set made their way to his closed bedroom door followed by a knock.

"Alright, Pete, I know you probably have some sort of teen angst going on, but yelling at Morgan over Mongolian barbecue is a bit dramatic-" he cut himself off behind the wooden door for a few more heartbeats before, "okay, I'm coming in."

Peter couldn't even bring himself to care about Mr. Stark finding out when the door opened carefully, but instead of the expected lecture or panic, all he got was a sigh as the older man knelt down next to him on the floor with a couple of soft clicking in his joints before he finally spoke again, "yeah, this is on par with what I was expecting."

And yet it was those soft words, as the small kit was taken out of his palms and he felt the all too familiar sting of antiseptic above his eyebrow, that hurt Peter the most.

"I didn't mean to get hurt." His protest was weak against the choked out sob while his childhood hero gently prodded at his throbbing shoulder.

"You never mean to get hurt, Pete."

His head dropped in silence as he gripped onto the metal bed frame, squeezing his eyes shut as his shoulder was expertly but painfully relocated into its socket, the spike of pain making it impossible for him to shout.

"We're gonna need to get some ice on that," he muttered as he stood with his hands on his knees, "you got a sling in here?"

Peter managed a nod despite the ricochet of pain in his shoulder.

"Get changed and put it on, I'll bring the ice and some dinner up for you."

Even though dinner also meant painkillers, Peter couldn't bring himself to get excited as he changed into a pair of pajamas and slid the sling over his neck so he could gently maneuver his aching arm into it.

Because no matter how much he tried to twist or justify it, everything came out to one answer that killed any thought of moving on in his mind.

He had broken Mr. Stark's trust in him.