Pride Is Not The Word I'm Looking For

Chapter 9

HEY! I'm up at 1 in the morning and it's technically Tuesday (my new posting day along with Fridays) so here I am updating the newest chapter of my trashy story and even trashier writing!!!

I hope you like it!

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-+*+- Peter -+*+-

Peter opened his eyes with a choked gasp and was immediately assaulted by the burning light in the room. He shut his eyes quickly before slowly opening them again. They adjusted better this time so he kept them open.

The room he was in was white-washed and the harsh sterilizing smell stung his nose. He was in the medbay. In the Tower. His eyes drifted around until they focused on the clock on the wall. 6:00 pm - Tuesday.

It's been two days?!

Peter blinked slowly and turned his head to the left where he was met with a sleeping Tony Stark.

He was passed out on one of the hard and uncomfortable chairs that decorated the walls of the room. His legs sprawled out on the floor and his arms were tucked inside his hoodie.  His hair was unkempt and greasy and he had major bags under his eyes. He was wearing an MIT hoodie, sweatpants, and socks with sandals. (Dad vibes intensify) It looked like this was the only sleep he had gotten all week and Peter felt guilty.

Is Mr. Stark like this because of me? Is he worried and stressed over me?

The Spider was fiddling with the scratchy blanket that was covering him when he remembered what had happened. He remembered Natasha trying to take him back to the tower and him swinging around as spiderman until IronMan shot him in the chest.

Wait...

IronMan shot me in the chest!

He ripped off his blanket and tore off his shirt with lighting speed. He looked down and was met with a nasty burn the size of a large dinner plate smack dab in the middle of his chest. The burn had several blisters all around it and it was apparent that his healing factor hadn't kicked in.

The bruises he had received from Aunt May had thankfully healed completely, and ,He pushed a hand against his chest, his ribs seemed to be fully healed as well.

I guess I'm alright.

Peter slowly sat up with a wince and turned so he could get down from the bed. He wasn't just going to stay in the bed all day, he had school, and Decathlon, and his friends. Plus, they probably didn't want him there anyway. He had caused enough chaos already.

He reached to the bed rail for some support in getting down and ended up knocking down a metal tray. The tray bounced around on the floor and Peter wished for death. He silently begged and pleaded for the tray to stop bouncing but with every prayer the clanging seemed to get faster and louder.

"Peter?" He heard a groggy voice from behind him and he tensed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Peter turned around sheepishly while exposing his chest and Tony paled.

"I-I was trying to get out of bed...I feel fine honestly it's not that bad," Peter tried explaining.

Tony's face turned hard and he ordered Peter back in bed. He obeyed without complaining.

Peter heard Tony sigh and scoot his chair closer to the bed.

"Peter," he started, "We gotta talk."

Peter nodded and let Tony continue.

"Want to explain to me why I shot my repulsor at a 15-year-old kid on Sunday?"