ETHEREAL [spider-man//peter parker] ✔️

Chapter 13

"Eye-witness  accounts confirm that the shooter  escaped. He seemed to have three rifles in amateur footage, but that has yet to be confirmed. We must thank our lucky stars for Spider-Man. He managed to help everyone escape the theater. No word on whether or not he was injured..."

I grabbed the remote control and changed the channel. A wave of anxiety washed over me.

I hope Peter is okay. Did he get shot?

My fingers itched with the need to call him, but I figured he had other things to worry about.

With a sigh I fell on my bed. This was hard, but I could not imagine Aunt May's worries.

I had last seen Peter two days ago, when he kissed my cheek and left to save New York.  My cheeks still turned pink at the memory.

I began reading a book to ease my mind, when I heard a soft tapping at my window. At least it started soft, but it grew louder and more urgent.

I practically jumped to my window and saw two large white eyes staring at me. I shrieked, but noticed what the eyes were attached to.

Spider-Man.

I opened my window, and he climbed into my room and on to the ceiling. His hands and feet left bloody prints on the fresh white paint. Whatever, I would clean it later.

He dropped from the ceiling soundlessly, and whipped off his mask. I stepped closer to him and pushed the hair out of face.

"Are..are you hurt?" I stammered, afraid for his answer.

"A little," Peter moved his hand to show me the bloody wound at his hip, " the bullet is still in, I think."

He was right. The bullet had not penetrated deeply, thanks to Stark's suit, but the gash would still need to be taken care of.

"Okay, come with me, alright? I'll try to patch you up."

Peter started stumbling behind me, but  after he nearly fell, I helped him to my bathroom. I held his arm as he lay down in the bath tub.

He pressed a button on his suit and it instantly turned from skintight, to baggy. I helped him pull it down to right below the injury. I quickly sucked in my breath.

He had a freaking six pack!

"Uhh..is it that bad?"

Peter looked at me, fear in his eyes.

"No, it's not. I just need my tweezers to get the bullet out."

I crept downstairs as quickly as I could to grab some medical supplies, and some snacks.

I came back to the bathroom and handed Peter some Oreos and a Gatorade.

He looked at me inquisitively.

"You are losing blood. It will make you feel better, I promise. Stay still, this is going to hurt."

After pouring hydrogen peroxide on the wound, I used my tweezers to pull out the bullet. Peter gritted his teeth but did not move an inch.

I doused the injury again and began dressing it.

Peter munched on an Oreo. "Howdidyoulearnhowtodothis?"

"What? I can't understand you with your mouth full."

Peter swallowed. "How did you learn how to do this?

"I read some books on it and watched some videos. I've always wanted to take First Aid but never had the time. Ta-da!"

Peter looked down at the bandage on his hip. He started getting up, but groaned and sat back down.

"It's okay. We can stay here for a while."

I smiled at him, and he nodded, grateful.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

I don't remember falling asleep on my bathroom floor, I don't remember Peter leaving, and I don't remember him carrying me  to my bed.  But in the morning, I woke up under layers of covers anyway.