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chapter eight

     When Peter tried to peel his eyes open, lights blinded him. He scrunched up his face and then tried to open his eyes more slowly. Gathering his strength, he slowly pushed himself into a sit. There was a bunch of stuff sticking in his arm.  Slowly, Peter recalled what had happened previously as he looked around the room. The walls were a clean white. Though, this place didn't seem foreign to Peter.
Peter shuffled in his thin hospital gown as he looked around more. His eye caught a mug. It was resting on a small table to the side of a comfortable looking chair in the corner. It had the Stark Industries logo on it. And then, panic began to set in when he realized where he was. 'Karen called Mr Stark?! Crap crap crap-' but his thoughts were interrupted as Tony Stark walked in. Peter's blood turned cold as he froze, staring up at the man. He made his way to the chair, sitting down and proceeding to take a long sip of his coffee before setting it back down on the table.
     "Why didn't you tell me you had been shot?" His eyes locked with Peter's, making him nervous.
     "I-I had it under control," Peter said weakly.
     "Did you now?" Tony raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Doesn't seem like it." He took another sip of his coffee.
     "I'm sorry Mr Stark, I was going to do something, I swear! I just didn't have time and-" Peter started explaining quickly, but he was cut off by Tony.
     "I don't want your excuses, I just want to make sure that you tell me next time you're in danger. Why hasn't Karen been automatically calling me when you're in danger?"
     "I... hacked her..." he mumbled. Tony just sighed, muttering and shaking his head. Peter hadn't hacked Karen too much, though. If he only got hurt a little, Karen would advise him to call Tony, but if Peter said no she would stop. Or so he thought. Apparently she had called Tony when he passed out. Perhaps Peter had guilt tripped her into not saying anything.
     "Kid, you can't override the safety protocols. If you get shot, I need to know!" Tony told him.
     "I-I'm sorry," Peter mistook his worried tone for anger and he looked down, his face burning in shame and embarrassment.
     "Wait, kid-," Tony started to reassure him that he wasn't mad, but someone walked in.
     "Is the kid staying for dinner?" Natasha freaking Romanoff asked, glancing towards Peter but directed her question at Tony. Tony just looked to Peter, as if to ask him if he wanted to stay.
     "O-Oh that's okay, I wouldn't want to bother you guys," Peter replied, his eyes wide as he looked at one of his idols. Internally, he was freaking out. 'This must be the compound!' He thought wildly.
     "C'mon kid, it's no big deal. I'll just call your aunt real quick, and-" Tony started but Peter cut him off.
     "Oh, that's okay! Really Mr Stark, I'll just head home, but thanks for the invite!" Peter tried to keep a smile but his emotions were so jumbled and mixed up that it looked somewhat like a pained smile.
     "No, no, I insist. We still have more to talk about, and I'd like for you to meet the rest of the Avengers." Tony insisted. "FRIDAY, tell May that Peter's staying for dinner," he said before Peter could stop him.
     "Yes, sir," FRIDAY replied
     "Thanks, FRI," Tony sat up from the white chair. Natasha just nodded slightly and turned our the door.
     "Holy crap," Peter breathed, "that was Natasha Romanoff." Tony just chuckled lightly.
     "Yeah, it was. Now, you should be good to go, we removed the bullet, so it might hurt to walk, but at least you don't get an infection now. Your super healing thing should take care of it." Tony said, walking over and gently removing all the stuff Peter was hooked up to. 'Crap, he took the bullet out? I don't have any money to repay him!' He thought with a panicked look. "Oh, almost forgot," Tony said suddenly, standing up straighter and turning out of the room. Peter could hear as Tony walked a few steps before stopping, and then coming back in. He rolled in a wheelchair, and Peter stared at it dumbfounded.
"Oh, I don't need a wheelchair, but thank you Mr Sta-"
"Tony. And I'm not risking you making it worse! You didn't even tell me you got shot, you really want me to trust you to not injure yourself?" Tony cut him off.
"It wasn't that big of a deal, I had it under control!" Peter insisted once again. Tony just rolled his eyes.
"Get dressed, it's almost dinner time," Tony said, turning out the door.
As Peter was left frustrated, he looked beside him to find his clothing in a neat pile on a small table beside the hospital bed. He changed quickly, wincing from his wound as he slipped into his jeans. Once he was changed, he looked at the wheelchair and sighed. 'I don't need it,' He thought, shifting himself so he was on the side of the bed, dangling his legs of the edge. he gingerly placed stepped his foot down, balancing on his good leg. As he gripped onto the side table and the wheelchair for support, he delicately placed the other foot on the ground. 'This isn't too bad,' he thought, gaining confidence.
But when he tried to walk, he collapsed. He laid on the floor on his side, sucking in his breath as he endured the pain shooting through his leg. Slowly, he pushed himself up with his arms, looking up at the wheelchair with a sigh.
     "FRIDAY, are there any crutches nearby?" Peter asked hopefully.
     "No, sir," FRIDAY said, making Peter let out a small groan.
     "Thanks anyways, FRIDAY," he said.