痛み止め HOW TO BE A SUPERHERO 101 !
the one where the neighborhood spider-man
gets smitten for the sheriffs son
.・。.・゜🕸・.・🥍・゜・。
❛ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' ❜
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"HELP! GET SOMEONE TO HELP ME!"
Parrish's voice carries through the hospital and louder than the already bustling business of it, arms burning under the limp weight of Lydia's now-unconscious body in his arms. "Quick! I need help. I've got an eighteen-year-old female, potentially hypothermic!"
Rushed with a wave doctor and several orderlies, a gurney appears at their side, Lydia's body being gently laid across it. Her skin is pale and bluish, veins webbing and skin covered in a sheen of cold sweat. The staff waste no time in taking her vitals, using a pen light to check her pupilary response and looking at the grim results. Parrish remains a helicopter over her, both Peter and Scott preoccupied with the meaning of Lydia's hint about the Sheriff.
They both know Noah Stilinski is in grave danger.
Both boys turn with one last look to Parrish, assuring he'll stay with Lydia. The deputy meets their gaze, nodding softly and mouthing for them to go. It's enough of an incentive for Scott feel slightly less bad about leaving Lydia, Peter right on his heels as they bolt for the ICU elevator with the entire Stilinski family on their minds.
Scott glances at Peter as the elevator doors close, seeing the young hero twiddle his thumbs and scratch at his arms. The fluorescent lights show the rising goosebumps on his skin, the hair standing up on the back of his next and Scott's hearing gives him a hint on just how hard his heart is pounding. "Pete, it's gonna be okay."
Peter's head twitches to face him, blinking away unwarranted tears and nods. "Yeah, no, I just— I dunno. It's a spider thing, it's like... like a sixth sense. Or maybe it's because I know he's here."
Scott frowns. "Who? Theo?"
Peter shakes his head slowly, the elevator reaching the ICU floor and the ding echoing in his head. Slowly, the chromatic doors glide open, the lights of the hallway meshing with the bright elevator ones. And they both see who Peter's talking about, who he's always thinking about. Both boys exit the small elevator and slowly inch closer to the boy through the doors.
Stiles is stressed, arguing about something or the other. His eyes are red and irritated underneath, and Peter's heart hurts knowing he's been crying. His hands shake and move as he speaks, hair jostled from trying to cope with the millions of pounds weighing him down. Peter forces himself to ignore the gut wrenching sound of the Sheriff's EKG beeping in the background, the sound of someone he considered a role model dying in the room beside him.
