Chapter Text
Peter groaned under his breath as he looked at the time on his phone, it was clearly late, and knowing Mr Stark, he'd probably bring up something about a new curfew for Peter soon. A small smile slipped past his lips at the thought of Mr Stark being worried about him staying out so late even though he always has been.
Twigs and leaves crunched and snapped with every step he took, the trees rustling in the wind above, the road beside him as quiet as ever. It was late, dark and exactly 9:00 at night. Peter honestly thought it was later at night, but who can blame him, he felt dead, and after the night he had, he was exhausted.
He was hit by a car, thrown against a brick wall straight through it, fell into a dumpster face first, got stuck under a bus, some guy nicked the back of his ankle with a knife, broke a lamp post by swinging into it, fell through a window onto the concrete down below at least three stories high and overheard a bunch of people hating on LEGOs.
It was truly not his night. He clearly looked like he was battered around, his usually neatly combed hair was a tangled mess, a couple of small bruises were noticeable around his body, mostly just on his back, but worse of all, his swollen lip and large cut above his eye from the fall he took into that dumpster, along with a large headache that came with it. He knew they'd heal in just under an hour, but it still was a pain in the ass.
The forest was quiet tonight though, the only noises he could make out were Owls hooting in the distance among the trees with a faint sound of crickets chirping, surprisingly. Not the only one feeling dead tonight, huh. Peter chuckled to himself at the small joke. Looking up from his feet, he noticed the Lake House finally coming into view, the lights peeking through the blinds out the window. He'd been walking for around twenty minutes so far since he left the city, only a short distance for him.(I'm not too sure where the Lake House is)
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Arriving on the porch out front, the wooden planks creaking beneath his sore feet, Peter could hear talking, at least two people in the living room. One of them obviously being Mr Stark, but the other one was.. unrecognisable, young though, maybe around his own age. Peter wasn't informed of any guests arriving though, so it was a bit odd.
He quickly fixed up his hair a bit and tried to make it seem less visible that he was injured, not to frighten anyone inside and make things harder for Mr Stark than usual. He threw his hood over his head trying to cover the cut above his eye and dried up blood around it with his hair.
Peter cautiously slipped into the house, gripping his bags' strap tightly in one hand, the other one shutting the wooden door behind himself with a loud creak getting the attention of Mr Stark and the stranger towards him.
Keeping his head low, Peter glanced up enough to see Mr Stark and someone standing next to him, hovering just over his height. Mr Stark was about to say something finally, but Peter had already got a move on and darted up the stairs towards the bathroom.
"Sorry Mr Stark, I'm really tired right now, I'm just gonna go to bed. Night!"
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Peter hissed slightly at the contact of the wet cloth he had in his hand and the cut above his eye, cleaning away the bloody mess around it. Looking at himself in the mirror properly, he noticed the cut on his bottom lip was nearly completely healed over, the one above his eye was annoyingly worser though, about three inches across his forehead, but in about an hour or so, all that would be left of it would be a faint scar, barely noticeable to others.
He felt bad for running off back there though and taking no notice in the guest they so clearly had over. It wasn't his house and it was quite rude of him to just ignore Mr Stark like that in his own home. Honestly, he knew that Mr Stark would understand the reason he had ran off like that. He knew that Peter had patrol and usually came back pretty exhausted or beaten up after a long night, I mean, he was just a kid and needed his sleep like everyone else did and it does take a lot out of you. He was still human, even after he was bit by that stupid radioactive spider.
Ignoring the sting, Peter finished off cleaning the cut and slapped on a decently sized Band-Aid over it. He left the cloth in the sink to throw out into the laundry tomorrow morning when he actually had the energy for it and picked up his bag, flinging it over his back.
Peter slept soundly that night, passed out the second his head hit his pillow, his bag discarded across some where in the corner of his room, too tired to change into his PJ's and just slept in his boxers. What he didn't know was that he would awake to a complete nightmare taking over his life.