Sorry, Wrong Number

This 'internship' had been going on for weeks now without any questions or suspicion from Peter's parents, which was a good thing until five months later when Mr and Mrs Moore had discovered Peter's secret and what he really spends time doing at the tower, excluding the internship.

It was nearly two in the morning in Queens, but the streets were still busy, robbers , muggers, rapists etc were still out and about and Spider-man was still swinging between buildings helping anyone he can. Peter wanted to get home by at least half past one but he was so pumped from the few robberies that he stopped, he knew that he wouldn't sleep so he decided to go around for another round or two for the adrenaline to stop and then head back to his comfy bed, nothing wrong with that, except for the fact that he got shot in the abdomen in at his last stop by a mugger that he still caught, which was very unfortunate since his home was five and a half miles away and his wound hurt like hell. He contemplated on going to the Avengers tower but that was nearly eight miles away and he could pass out before he got there and also, he didn't want to wake them up, since Wanda told him that late at night today, they would go on a mission to take down one of Hydra's common bases, which meant getting all the rest needed and not to be interrupted. Making his decision he swung back as fast as he dared to with a bullet inside of him.

As soon as he opened his bedroom window, he fell face first on the floor, not being to withstand the pain that was coursing through his body, and completely forgetting to be silent causing the couple a few rooms to his left to wake up, thinking that someone broke into their house.

Mr Moore got up first since he was always a light sleeper. Careful not to wake his wife, he started making his way towards Peter's room. Praying that it was only his son sleep walking and not a thieve sneaking through Peter's window and Peter, since he's a very heavy sleeper, probably didn't hear him. Moving as silently as he could he made his way there and grabbed a vase, the only thing that was considered as a weapon in the corridor, and he didn't want to go downstairs and leave the 'thieve' alone up there with his son.

Opening the door just a crack, trying to see what was going on. Seeing the bed empty he sighed in relief thinking that his son had just woken up and fell over something, making all the noise. Opening the door wider he saw something that made him freeze. Blood was all over the bedroom floor and there was a trail of blood that went into the bathroom, which was slightly open, letting a streak of light shine in the dark room.

Dylan was more worried to what happened to his son than the potential stranger in his house. Bursting in the bathroom he saw his son, covered in blood, medical tools were spilled in every corner of the room, blood still dripping from them. Bandages were wrapped around Peter's abdomen, and they were looking as if a qualified doctor did them, not a sixteen-year-old boy. A bullet was on the ground next to his son, covered in blood.

Peter wasn't looking so good too. He was paler than ever, his eye's scrunched as if he was in pain and was unresponsive when his father shook him. Checking his pulse, Dylan was relieved that his son's heart was beating steadily. He was going to rush out and call an ambulance for help, but then spotted a paper note in Peter's hand. Carefully removing it, he begun to read:

Dear Mum/Dad,

You're probably wondering why I'm passed out on the bathroom floor and was covered in blood. I'll explain later since I'm going to pass out any minute, but I need you to do something for me. Don't call for the ambulance or help from the neighbours. I'll explain later but please don't. Just carry me to the bed and wait for me to wake up, shouldn't take long.

With all my Love,

Your son.

Reading the letter over and over again Mr Moore finally respected his son's decisions and went to wake up his wife. After explaining the whole thing to Lisa, she was wide awake and with tears streaming down her face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, where Peter was carried by Dylan, and held his hand tight. She had protested that they should call the ambulance or take him to a hospital, but in the end, she went silent and focusing on her son, whom she only had for six and a half months.

Peter stayed true to his word and after a few very tense hours later he woke up, his eyes still blurry and was feeling the aftereffects of the gunshot wound, though the pain had decreased immensely thanks to his fast healing. Looking around he found his mother holding his hand tightly and his father leaning on the door frame and they both had the 'explain now or we will get it out of you' expression. "So, I'm guessing you're wondering what happened?" Peter asked.