Chapter Text
The conflicting impulses of ‘get away’ and ‘wait to make sure’ brought Peter to the top of the Cyclone, out of sight, a safe distance, but close enough that he could see Happy arrive and find Mr. Toomes. But as people started swarming, Stark personnel clearing the beach and reporters vying for a closer look at the wreckage, the adrenaline started to wear off and new worries arose.
Like the fact that his shoulders were both still bleeding, he probably had a concussion or twelve, and he was pretty sure something was broken and/or sprained in at least two places. And he was on top of a roller coaster miles from anywhere he would like to be with no suit AI and no medical supplies or any idea what to do now. He couldn’t go home in this state. The dance...was probably over? Or maybe it was still going. Peter had lost track of time somewhere between being buried under a building and falling off a burning plane.
Ned. He should call Ned and text May he’d be staying at Ned’s. He didn’t move. His entire body ached, and there was a lot of ground to cover between Coney Island and Queens.
Well, Queens wasn’t getting any closer. Slowly, carefully, Peter moved. His phone was cracked all to hell, but miraculously still functional.
Ned picked up on the first ring.
“Peter?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Peter! You’re alive! The news said the plane crashed! Are you okay? I got kicked out of the dance, and I couldn’t get back to a computer or anything for like an hour and then you weren’t answering the phone! Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Peter said, then thought. “Well, mostly. Kind of? I don’t know. Can I crash at your place tonight? I can’t...May can’t see me like this.”
“Yeah, of course.” Ned’s voice had abruptly become softer, and Peter wondered how terrible he sounded and if he could even get away with calling May. “Whatever you need, dude.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there in like half an hour. Your window’s unlocked, right?”
“It will be. See you soon.”
Peter hung up and texted May.
Staying at Ned’s is that ok?
Sure, how was the dance?
Peter stared at his phone for a full minute.
It was ok. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow!
There. That looked normal enough and wasn’t so far from the truth. He even had an exclamation point. Nothing to worry about.
***
It took about forty minutes to get to Ned’s. About halfway there he had slipped slightly and jostled his injured shoulder (his more injured than the other shoulder) and had to slow down. Finally, he slipped through Ned’s bedroom window to find Ned waiting for him.
“Holy crap!” he whisper-shouted once he got a good look at Peter. He stood up and maneuvered Peter towards his desk chair. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding. Did you get stabbed? Oh my god, dude, I don’t think I have a big enough first aid kit for this.”
“It’s okay,” Peter said hoarsely. “I heal fast.”
“Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Stay there. I’m gonna see what we’ve got.” Ned hurried out of the room as Peter started peeling off layers of homemade spider-suit to get a better look at the damage.
It turned out the Leeds family did keep a reasonably thorough first aid kit in their bathroom. Peter was pretty sure a normal human would have needed stitches, but a whole lot of neosporin and a bit of gauze would have to do for him.
(They had to google how to treat burns and tell if an ankle was twisted or sprained and what the difference in treatment was and how to treat a concussion and tell if ribs were broken. They didn’t seem to be, but his right wrist and his left ankle were sprained.)
The bruises and burns were going to be an issue to explain, but that could be Tomorrow Peter’s problem. Ned had gone quiet, the gravity of what had happened sinking in.
“This is like...a really bad version of that meme with like, you, your date, your date’s dad and stuff.”
Peter half-laughed at that. “A really bad version.”
“Yeah…. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more,” Ned blurted out.
“What?” Peter shook his head quickly and stopped when that hurt. “Ned, you were great! If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve gone down in the school parking lot! I’ll be fine, really. But uh, sleep first. Getting the crap kicked out of you really takes a lot of energy.”
“Oh, yeah, sure! Take the bed, dude, you’re beat.”
“Are you sure?” Peter asked, though he was already limping over to it.
Ned rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. You just got your ass kicked and saved the world. You at least deserve a bed.”
“Thanks. I’d say we can share, but I’d probably end up sticking my hand to your face in my sleep.”
Ned probably said something in response, but Peter was already asleep.
***
Watching his shirtless best friend sleep would normally fall under the “creepy” heading for Ned, but he figured in this particular situation, he was probably ok. Peter had nearly died, from the looks of it several times. Ned couldn’t be blamed for wanting to make sure he kept breathing through the night.
Peter’s phone buzzed, an incoming call from Happy.
Ned glanced at Peter’s sleeping form and answered quietly. “Hello?”
“Who is this?”
“Ned.”
“Great,” Happy sighed, “Where the hell is Peter?”
“He’s asleep right now.”
“But he’s with you?” Happy sounded almost worried, which Ned thought was an improvement over his attitude when he’d last spoken to him.
“Yeah. He’s with me.”
“I’ve been looking all over for him. You tell him next time he gets in trouble like this, actually, no, no next time-”
“He’s okay,” Ned interrupted, “I mean, pretty beat up and exhausted, but he’s okay. You can stop looking.”
There was silence for a few seconds, which Ned chose to interpret as guilty. “Call if he’s too hurt for you to handle, got it?”
“Got it.”
And Happy hung up. Ned put Peter’s phone down and went back to his totally not creepy watching Peter sleep.
The thing was, Peter looked bad. And not badass, just bad. His face was bruised and cut up and scraped and singed, and his hands were burned enough that Ned had tried very hard to get Peter to go to a hospital. (He wouldn’t. Ned understood why, but hands were important, Peter. They had lots of nerve endings, Peter.) Not to mention the freakin’ stab wounds in his shoulders from where the Vulture had apparently sunk his talons into Peter to lift him into the air and then smash him into the ground a bunch. Ned wasn’t totally clear on the details, but that was what he gathered from Peter’s rough description of the fight and his injuries. Plus there were the sprains in his ankle and wrist that made Ned worry a lot, because Peter swung to Queens from Coney Island with a sprained wrist and ankle, like that was just a thing that people could do. Also stab wounds.
Ned wasn’t an angry person by nature, but if he ever saw Mr. Toomes, he had some strong words in mind. For that matter, he also had some words for Happy Hogan and Tony Stark, but he doubted he’d ever actually say any of them even if he did meet them.
He was tempted, almost, to call Happy back and tell him that no, Ned couldn’t handle how hurt Peter was, and they needed real adults with medical training and proper equipment. But Peter didn’t want him to, Ned knew, so he wouldn’t. He could handle it.
***
Three days after Peter had crashed a plane, after he had gone back to Ned’s to get patched up for injuries that were totally handle-able, Ned. Two days after he had gone back to his own apartment after sneaking out through Ned’s window again so Ned’s parents wouldn’t see him, after making up something about homecoming to tell May, after Peter’s injuries had healed, and he had slept for most of the day, Ned dragged him out to go shopping.
“So, what are we shopping for?” Peter asked as they started walking.
“First aid supplies,” Ned said. Peter winced.
“Yeah, sorry, I used up all your-”
“Not the point, Peter,” Ned sighed. Peter frowned. There was something off. Ned seemed weirdly anxious and serious.
“What, uh, is the point, then?”
“The point is that you were seriously hurt, and we didn’t have everything we needed, and I don’t want that to happen ever again. So we’re gonna get everything we can think of and also first aid training. You should probably get first aid certified for being Spider-Man anyway, and this way I can actually patch you up next time you get hurt that bad.”
Peter reminded himself to hug Ned the next time they weren't walking down a busy street and liable to block traffic. “Oh,” he said, “thanks, Ned.”
Ned nodded. “It's an honor, Spider-Man.”