Lmao idek what this is but here, angsty fluff (ooh)

There are no ships in this oneshot so I don't wanna hear it from anyone, thank you very much

But anyways enjoy :)

tw: blood, injury, mental distress (mildly)

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.

3rd Person P.O.V.

"FINE! If that's how it's going to be, then you can just leave. Go! Clearly you don't need me, since you're 'all grown up' now!" Tony yelled, fist clenching angrily. Him and Peter had been fighting a lot lately. Now that Peter was 18, he felt as though he didn't need constant surveillance and assistance with everything. He wanted to have his adult freedom, left to make his own decisions.

"I don't need you! I will leave, and- and I'll do whatever I want! You'll see, I'm an adult now and I can take care of myself!" Peter retorted, walking away from Tony. Both men were seething, two strong spirits locked in battle.

Peter went to his room to pack a bag, throwing clothes and money in a backpack, along with a few other items. He put on his Spiderman suit, shouldering the backpack before swinging out the window and into the city. He would show Tony... he could handle himself just fine.

Peter found himself on a rooftop, enjoying the sunset. It was a cool night, not too cold though. Peter just sat there, watching the sunset. A loud crash interrupted his thoughts, however. He sat up quickly, hiding his backpack under a small ledge before heading toward the source of the noise. He eventually came across a local bank, multiple large vans parked outside.

"Grab the money! C'mon, I can't sit here all night waiting for your slow ass!" A man yelled. He was holding a gun, and it was pointed at a group of hostages, tied together by the wrists. Another man came running from inside, carrying two large bags of what Peter could only assume was money.

"Karen, can you zoom in?" He wanted a closer look at the men's faces. There had been a series of robberies across the city lately, and these could be the guys. Karen, however, didn't respond. Peter had disabled her and any tracking services a few days ago, to prove that he didn't need any help. Sighing, Peter swung down to the scene, approaching the man running the cash first.

"Aw, don't you know stealing is a crime? Let me help you-" He webbed the guy up pretty easily, sticking him to the side of the building. As a finishing touch, Peter webbed over his mouth neatly, so he couldn't call out to his partner. "There! No more stealing!" Peter climbed up the wall, approaching the man with the gun. Thinking quickly, he climbed across the ceiling, knowing the man wouldn't expect to be taken down from above.

What he didn't account for, though, was the strength of the ceiling tiles.

They were thin, and when Peter stepped onto one of them, it fell to the ground, leaving a very surprised Peter hanging from the ceiling. The man turned to look at him, grinning.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the bug boy! Nice to finally meet you..." The gun was pointed at Peter, who stood on the ceiling still. "Now, prepare to die!" The gun went off, and Peter dropped to the ground, barely escaping the bullet.

"Well, I was going to ask if that was a gun in your pants or if you were just happy to see me... but I see that it was a gun," Peter quipped, making a move to knock the gun out of the man's hand. He succeeded, webbing the guy to the wall easily. Once the man was taken care of, Peter went to untie the hostages.

"Spiderman! Look out!" One of them yelled, pointing. Peter's senses went off, but it was too late. A bullet hit him square in the chest, just missing his heart. He hadn't seen the third guy...

Peter hit the ground with a thud, gasping for breath. His lung must've been hit...

Luckily enough, the police showed up just then, quickly taking the man down. Coughing, Peter fled the scene, hiding in an abandoned alley. He sat against a dumpster with a groan, wincing. He held up his hand, which had been clamped against the wound firmly. It was covered in blood... wet and sticky and just too much for his hazy brain.

"Karen...?" Peter mumbled, eyes half lidded. It was too dark to tell, but he was getting awfully pale. He frowned, clumsily reaching for the little pocket on his suit where his phone went. Through spotty vision, Peter called Tony, barely conscious.

Tony heard his phone ring, glancing at the screen curiously. As soon as he saw Peter's contact, he clicked "ignore," shaking his head. If Peter wanted to apologize, he would have to do it in person. It started ringing again right away, and Tony sighed, frustrated. He set his phone to silent, scoffing and rolling his eyes.

Peter coughed, seeing the spatters of blood that escaped his lips. He was barely holding on to consciousness, and Tony still hadn't picked up. After being ignored for a few calls, Peter started leaving voicemails, some of which probably sounded pretty rough. He regretted disabling Karen... she could've helped him contact Tony. Or Bruce. Or anyone. But instead, Peter was hunched over in a dark alley, a literal bullet pierced through his left lung. He was lucky it hadn't gone through his heart.

His breathing was getting progressively worse, and Peter was barley awake. He coughed again, tasting blood. He grimaced, eyes drooping dangerously. He was just... so... tired...

Tony yawned, grabbing his phone from the table. It had been oddly silent that night, which the billionaire wasn't used to. Frowning, he checked his notifications, quickly remembering that he had turned sound off to ignore Peter. But according to his call log, the bug-themed hero hadn't called in nearly 10 minutes. He had, however, left 18 voicemails, which made Tony groan with annoyance.

Shaking his head, Tony played the first voicemail, annoyance washed away almost immediately. Peter sounded awful, he was breathing a lot... and he sounded pretty out of it.

"Hey, I- ngh, I kinda... need help... call me back?" Tony frowned, playing the other voicemails.

"I got... shot... please come... get me..." With every voicemail, Peter sounded worse and worse. He was wheezing and coughing, and occasionally stuttering.

"I-I... need... help..." Peter gasped, coughing immediately after. Tony winced, hearing the quiet "Shit." He summoned his suit, asking for Peter's location.

"Mister Parker has removed all tracking and location services from his suit, sir." Tony swallowed, frowning.

"Shit..." He called Peter back, silently praying for the brunette to respond. But when all he got was the dial tone, Tony started to worry more. "FRI, can you triangulate his coords? Using the call receipts?" The AI was silent for a moment, before a location was sent to Tony's helmet. The genius sighed with relief, clicking the helmet over his head and immediately shooting off into the sky. There was no time to waste.

"FRI, estimated time?"

"Two minutes and 48 seconds, sir."

"Alright, alert Bruce and have him be ready in the med bay. Say it's an emergency."

"Yes, sir." Tony flew in silence, until he reached Peter's coordinates. He was over a dark alley, seemingly empty... until his eyes spotted a familiar red and blue pattern, hidden against a dumpster. He flew to the ground, retracting his helmet to get a better look at the man. He was unconscious, and blood was flowing freely from a bullet wound in his chest. Peter's breathing was labored, and he was pale as a ghost from blood loss.

Tony turned a shade paler himself, scooping the boy into his arms carefully and flying off to the tower. Looking at the injured hero in his arms, Tony couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt hit his gut. He had been the reason Peter had ran off... and now the younger man had a bullet wound in his chest.

A thought struck Tony. What if Peter didn't make it? What if he died thinking Tony hated him? He grimaced, shaking a bit inside his suit.

"Sir, your heartrate and breathing are elevated. You appear to be in distress. Shall I-"

"Not now, FRIDAY," he spat through gritted teeth. No, he had to get Peter to Bruce first, he couldn't freak out yet...

He flew in through an open window, flying through the halls to reach the med bay faster. Bruce was already there waiting for him, and took Peter from his arms without a word. The young hero was brought into the med bay quickly, and Tony could hear Bruce giving directions. He disabled the suit, stumbling over to the wall and sliding down to the floor, head in his hands. God, Peter...

Tony sat against the wall for what felt like hours, waiting for any news from Bruce and his team. When the door finally opened, the billionaire stood up quickly, staring anxiously at an exhausted Bruce. He just gestured into the room, inviting Tony in. The man hesitated for a moment, bracing himself for the worst.

"Hey, Mr Stark." Tony's head turned so fast, you would think he would get whiplash.

"Kid?!" There was Peter, laying still on the hospital bed, a light smile gracing his lips. From Tony's perspective, the brunette had never looked so young, yet so old at the same time. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was pale and shaky. But in that bed, he looked so small and helpless.

"In the flesh," Peter chuckled softly, eyebrows burrowing as he coughed weakly. "Nghh..." he groaned, closing his eyes and pressing his head into the pillow. Bruce stepped forward, speaking calm and slow.

"He was shot in the chest, which caused his left lung to collapse. The bullet was inches away from his heart... if he had been just slightly to the side, he would've died," he stated solemnly. "He was very lucky. Everything has been repaired, his lung will be fine but absolutely no physical activity until I give my approval, ok?" Peter nodded tiredly, yawning with a slight grimace.

"Right. Any way you could up his pain meds, or...?" Bruce looked sympathetic.

"We're out of the stuff that works on him and Steve. I have him on regular meds, but they won't do much. Best I can do is suggest he sleep and allow his body to heal." He turned to glance at Peter quickly, swallowing. "He should be ok... any issues, come get me. But I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted." Tony nodded, taking a seat by Peter's bedside as Bruce left the room.

"Hey, kiddo... I just wanted to apologize for what happened. I know you're 18 now, you deserve to be trusted and treated like an adult, I just..." he sighed. "You grew up so fast. I'm not ready to let you go." Peter smiled weakly, nodding.

"I'm not going anywhere, at least not anytime soon," he shrugged. "It's not your fault, either. I should've been more careful."

"Now that we agree on," Tony chuckled. "Alright, just... get some rest, ok? I want you to heal, so don't let me keep you." He stood up, walking to the door.

"Hey, um, thank you. For, yknow, saving me..." Tony smiled, nodding.

"No problem, kiddo. Now get some sleep!" He ordered playfully. Peter rolled his eyes, saluting with a grin.

"Yes, sir." Tony left the room, shaking his head with a smile. That kid was going to be the death of him...

Lmk what you thought and consider checking out some of my other stories! Thank you for reading :)