How'd You Get This Number? // mamaspider

8 - i'll be fine, mr. stark!

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing—

"I like to move it, move it. You like to move it, move it. We like to move it, move it—"

Without opening my eyes, my hand grabs the obnoxiously loud phone beside me, my thumb hits the green accept button, and I bring the speaker up to my face. "Hello?" I groan. Why does everything feel 10x slower than normal?

"Peter?" Someone's voice exclaims. "Peter!" They call out again.

"Who is this?" I question as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"It's Natasha." She replies incredulously.

My eyes shoot open. "Natasha?" I ask. "Why are you calling me?" I try to sit up, crying out when I feel a strong pain in my abdomen. Looking down, I find a bullet wound in the bottom left quarter of my stomach. "Woah..." Memories of getting mugged come smacking me in the side of the head. 

"Peter, I've been calling you for 2 days." Nat explains. She sounds panicked. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." The pools of blood around me have dried, and I find I'm in the same position on the bathroom floor as I was when I fell asleep. "I'm on the floor...?" A pair of pliers, a needle, and a spool of thread are spread around me. The small, silver bullet still lies between the tiles on my left.

Natasha pauses. "The bathroom floor?"

"Yeah." I reply confusedly.

"Peter, you've been unconscious for two days." Her voice is thick with worry. "Did you ever stitch up that wound?"

"No." I reply bluntly, my eyes slowly widening as I stare at the overflowing amount of text messages in the chat—hundreds and hundreds of, "Peter, answer us!" or "Are you okay?". I feel horrible for making all my internet friends worry like that. "Oh, I am so sorry."

A new voice comes over the speaker, sounding rushed. "Peter, it's Bruce. Is it still bleeding?"

"No, it's not." I sigh in relief as I look down at it. I guess my fast healing was able to do that much, at least. "What day is it?"

"It's Thursday, Peter." Bruce sighs over the phone. "You're gonna need medical attention."

"No, I told you I'd be fine in the morning. It's morning, isn't it?" I chuckle tightly as I try to slide the whole ordeal off like it's nothing.

"No, it's actually 3 in the afternoon." Natasha deadpans.

"What?!" That means May could be home any minute! "I gotta get out of here." If May saw me like this, then my life would be over. Plus, I'm supposed to be heading to SI right now!

"Peter, don't you dare move." Natasha hisses through the speaker. "You could hurt yourself more. Where are you? I'm coming to help."

"No, no, no, no, no!" The internship is in 10 minutes! I can't miss it—my entire future lies in that job. "I have work." I heave myself to my feet.

"Peter, I swear, if you come to this tower—"

"I have work." I repeat, pulling my bloody clothes slowly. Oh, this is so not gonna be fun.

I added Mr. Stark's contact in my phone when I first met him, in hopes that I'd never have to use it. I wouldn't want to bother him!

__Tony's POV__

Oh, thank god. We all thought the kid was dead!

"I'm texting my boss right now." Peter murmurs over the speaker. He sounds tired, weak. Poor kid.