spiderman angst/sickfic oneshots

flash's first aid kit

Peter crashed into the roof of an apartment building, holding his hands over his ribcage, attempting to stop the bleeding bullet wound he'd experienced.

He presumed one of his lungs had been slightly compromised because he was coughing up mouthfuls of blood, so much he gagged on it.

He held onto the edge of the building, gripping the bricks for dear life as his vision went cloudy and blurry. His head was pounding and he felt like he was swimming in a way.

"Spiderman! Spiderman! I have a first aid kit I can help!" Someone said. Peter heard the door to the roof slam behind them and then someone kneel down on the gravel in front of him.

"I'm a lifeguard at a public pool so I'm certified in CPR and I know how to turnikit and stuff." The boy said casually, "just take off your suit and let me wrap it until you go to the hospital."

When Peter looked up, the eyes of his mask adjusting unevenly as they scanned his uneven pupils, he saw someone he didn't expect to see. For some reason he hadn't even recognized the voice.

It was Flash.

Flash Thompson.

His eyes went wide.

"Can't." He said, not even bothering go try and hide his voice. He was too tired. He was really really tired.

Maybe that wasn't a good thing.

"Look, you need help and I can help you." Flash said, opening the case and pulling out lots and lots of gauze.

Peter coughed, blood now dripping through and below his mask. His breathing was gurgley.

"You'll see my face." He said weakly, his voice cracking as he felt himself sway.

"I won't tell anyone who you are I swear!" Flash said.

Peter narrowed his eyes, "you would."

Flash faltered, "I swear, spiderman! I'd never tell anyone in the world who you were!!"

Peter watched his vision turn sideways and felt a wave of heat wash over him and knew he didn't have a choice any longer. Slowly, one hand still holding his side, he pulled his mask off. His face was smeared in blood and his hair was dripping with sweat. His skin was an unhealthy pale yellow. He had lost too much blood.

"Wh- P-" Flash started, his drama beginning to escalate. But Peter shot a web over his mouth and hit the center of his chest, pulling the costume down so the wound showed after it had unsealed.

Flash was wide eyed and Peter could tell he had endless questions. But instead of trying to talk through the webbing, he started to wrap Peters chest.

"Can I b-borrow your phone?" Peter asked, feeling queasy as he coughed again.

Flash paused and handed Peter his phone without question, not that he physically could. But he filled in some strange comment with a suspicious look.

Peter just shot him a silent glare before diling Mr. Stark's number and praying, just praying that he'd pick up.

He nearly cried with relief when the ringing sounds turned into a momentary blurring line of idle sound, "hello? Who is this?" A voice said.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked drearily while at the same time, relief speed rapidly through his body and extinguished all the adrenaline and shock. The world was really spinning. He didn't feel good. He wasn't feeling anywhere near alive anymore. All his energy was fizzling away. Fast.

"Woah woah, Underoos? That you? Whos phone is this?" He asked.

Flash's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide when he faintly heard Mr. Stark's voice over the line.