Superfamily One Shots

Let It Go

**An idea I had about how cinnamon roll Peter would respond to a difficult situation and probably let it go. It's kinda short, just a drabble, but it's mostly to hold y'all over to next week because I have some class stuff coming up and I will probably get busy. Enjoy!**

Peter heard the sound of a gun cocking. It was distinct - a metallic click and the sound of someone's heartbeat picking up faster - and it was one Peter knew well. After years of patrolling the city, Peter could pick out the sound of a gun cocking from over a mile away now.

Peter swung closer, trying to pinpoint the sound. When he finally swung up to the top of an office building, he took a breather and searched for the sound of that same heavy breathing he'd heard before. There, below him, was an alley where the streetlights were out, but Peter could still make out two distinct shadows, and both of them had hammering heartbeats. Peter crawled down the side of the building, trying to get a better look.

A young man with a gun.

A young man with a wallet.

It was a mugging, then. Peter waited for a moment before webbing himself closer, swinging between the two. Peter glanced over his shoulder to the poor guy clutching his wallet and gave him a tight but reassuring nod.

"Woah, woah, woah," Peter said, raising his hands and turning back to the mugger. "Let's calm-"

Peter stopped short. The mugger, it was- that face.

"I will shoot!" Flash said, brandishing the gun a little. "I will shoot this gun! Don't test me!"

Peter tilted his head a little, his mind trying to play catch up with the fact that Flash was mugging someone. "I know, man, I get it. Calm down."

Flash's face was drawn up in a pained look, his lips quivering and his eyes swimming with tears. Peter almost cried at the sight himself, he had never seen Flash look so downright lost and hurt before.

"I will shoot you!" Flash said again, but this time, tears were falling down his cheeks.

For a minute, Peter wondered what the hell was going through Flash's mind. He was a shitty guy, yeah, but he wasn't this bad. He wasn't immoral or cruel. He wasn't like this. Flash loved Spiderman. He loved justice and righteousness and... 

Peter looked into Flash's eyes, and he saw the absolute torture he was in. Flash was up against his own hero.

Peter moved towards Flash, his hands still outstretched. "Just give me the gun, and we'll talk about-"

The shot was loud.

Flash was down on the ground, the power of the gun's kick pushing him backwards. The man dropped his wallet with a scream, putting his hands tight over his ears as he flinched backwards. Peter spun around and grabbed the man by his elbows.

"You have to run."

The man didn't need telling twice and he sprinted down the alleyway towards the street. As soon as he was out of sight, Peter slumped a little and let out a low whine.

"Oh, my God," Flash whispered, his hands shaking. "Oh, my- Oh, my God."

Peter could hear the ragged breaths Flash was heaving. He was going into shock.

"Hey, Fla- kid," Peter walked over to Flash and put a steady hand on his shoulder. "Hey, look at me. Look at me." Flash's eyes wandered the Spiderman mask for a second before coming to rest on Peter's eyes. "Good. Now follow my breathing. In... Out... In... Out..."

Flash choked a little on the first few breaths, but the heaving started to even out as he found the rhythm. Peter smiled at him encouragingly before realizing Flash couldn't see the smile.

"You're doing great, kid. I'm not mad, I'm not upset," Peter coached, watching as Flash started to calm down. After a few minutes, Peter reached for the gun and pulled it away from the teen. "Now. Let's just tuck this away and talk."

Flash almost reached for the gun as Peter pulled it back, but Peter knew he wouldn't yank it back. It wouldn't do any good now, and Flash wasn't going to shoot Spiderman.

"Now," Peter said as he tucked the gun behind his back. "Let's talk. What's going on?"

Flash's face contorted in pain again and he dropped his eyes from Peter's mask and looked around the alley way - anywhere but Peter's mask. Anywhere but Peter's face. Flash's eyes fell down to the blood on-

There was blood on the Spiderman suit. There was blood on the suit. Flash's eyes widened, then followed it up to the hole - oh, God, there was a hole in Spiderman's chest. Just under his collar bone on the right side. Flash let out a pained gasp and moaned, rolling his head back on his neck. "No, no, no," Flash chanted under his breath.

Peter followed Flash's eyes downwards and gasped a little as he realized what it was that was making Flash panic. "Oh!" Peter put a hand over the wound and pressed a little to stem the bleeding. "Hey, that's no problem. No worries about that, kid. Don't worry about that."

Flash kept staring at the blood, the chanting never ending. Peter grabbed Flash's arms again.

"Flash!"

The boy looked up at him, the sound of his name breaking him of his panic.

"Flash, it's fine. I've been shot a million times," Peter said calmly. "I will go back to the Tower in a bit and get the bullet pulled out, and I will be right as rain in the morning."

Flash bit his lip. "You hate me. You hate me know, and I love you, Spiderman, I mean I really love you and-" Flash's breathing was picking up again, so Peter did the one thing he could think of that would snap Flash out of his shock for good. He pulled off his mask.

"Flash, it's me. It's me, and I'm fine. You know how many times I was stabbed or tortured or shot and showed up to school the next day?"

Flash's face was pale and his eyes unseeing. "Pe- Peter? Peter. You're Spiderman?"

Peter nodded slowly. "I'm Spiderman, Flash. I've taken some pretty bad hits over the years, this gun shot is nothing. Please. Please stop freaking out and just talk to me. What are you doing, man?"

Flash tried looking back up at Peter, but he couldn't quite meet the other teen's eyes. Instead, he looked down at his shaking hands. After a moment or two, he spoke.

"I ran away," he whispered. Peter shifted a little so he was closer to Flash and could hear him better. "I ran away because I can't take it anymore. My dad is- is- is a d-drunk. I ran- I ran away because- because- because he knocks me ar-around."

Peter nodded again and reached out a hand to run circles on Flash's back. "And I can't keep it up. I can't find a job, I don't have a place to- to stay." Once the flood gates were opened, they couldn't be closed and the words tumbled out of Flash's mouth. Peter just kept nodding and rubbing circles and praying to God Tony was still up when he got home.

When Flash was finally done telling his story, Peter cleared his throat a little and stood up. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," Peter said again. "Here's what we're going to do. You need a hot shower and a good night sleep. I need some medical attention. I'm taking you back to the Tower with me for the night, and in the morning, Tony and I will help you figure out what to do next."

"Tony?" Flash asked, eyes drawn up in confusion. The exhaustion in them was clearer now, shining out from under the tears.

"Tony Stark," Peter clarified. He held out his right hand for Flash to grab, then rethought the whole wound thing and stuck out the other one. Flash took it hesitantly, letting Peter haul him up. "Come on."

Flash didn't move, his eyes trained on Peter's wound.

"Flash, seriously," Peter said, his voice pleading and low. "Let it go. Let it go. I'm not mad, I'm not hurt. I'm fine."

Flash looked up at Peter's face. "What?"

"It's fine," Peter said again. "Everything's going to be fine. I promise."