That One Time Spiderman (Accidentally) Shot Himself
It had been a long ass day. Wade was tired, one of his shoulders had been dislocated, his knee busted and there were plenty of new holes in his suit from attempts at injury. Initially they had succeeded – but then there was the whole “regenerating” bit. He removed his weapons belts and dumped it all on the table, happy to let go of the weight, calling out for Blind Al as he did so. There was nothing but silence, which was probably for the better. All he wanted was to fall face first into a bag of blow – and then bed. Wade headed to the bathroom to get a pair of tweezers to pull out the slugs. He left the water running and had a long hard look in the mirror. His alter ego staring back at him. Bits and pieces of himself showing through.
“Are you as tired as I feel buddy?” Hell no, I’m ready for another round. Give me all the mother fuckers! Wade sighed and shook his head. He gritted his teeth as he dug the tweezers into the first bullet wound. This bit he’d gotten good at, though. A few seconds later, the first one was out – it landed in the sink with a loud clank. The blood rinsed off it, running thick and awkwardly into the drain. His jaw clenched as he prepared himself to get the next one.
“B A N G!”
And then something dropped. Wade froze, just for a second. He knew that noise. It was the sound of a gun going off. He didn’t feel any pain. There was nothing. No one in the door behind him. I was not the target.
“AL?!” he called out, worried that she’d gone to tidy up his mess and accidentally fired off one of his guns. Things had happened quickly out on the streets, and he knew for a fact he hadn’t put the safety on.
A soft whimper, and a shaky voice barely able to say his name.
Wade knew that voice. Oh no. Oh fuck. He spun around and rushed out of the bathroom, everything about tiredness forgotten.
“What the actual hell were you doing? See Webs, this is why I don’t have kids!” Wade snapped, he found Peter on the floor next to where he’d left his weapons. He was as pale as they come, blood trickling from a wound in his shoulder. “You could have taken your head off!” Wade dropped to his knees next to him, pressing a hand to the wound to stop the bleeding. “You complete rookie, what the actual fuck were you doing?”
“I – I – just wanted to look at your,” Peter swallowed hard, he had a hard time keeping focus. He wet his lips and moaned.
“Listen here, you’re going to be fine. Dr. Pool’s got you.” Wade said to Peter, before he muttered to himself; “At least guns don’t make people turn to dust.” With his free hand, he pulled Peter up to see if the bullet has gone clean through. It hadn’t.
Fuck this day and bullets not going through. It’s not easy Sunday, that’s for sure.
Peter looked seconds away from full blown panic. Trying to find something to keep his eyes on. Trying to get his hands up to the wound and failing.
“Okay, easy there Billy the Kid.” Wade said softly and held him down. “I’ll wait for you to pass out, it’ll happen soon. Just – don’t fight it. I’ll get the bullet out and patch you up, and when you come to – you’ll have an actual bullet wound scar to show for. How about that? Cool huh? Bro fist.” He balled up the hand that he lifted Peter up with, and held it over his chest. If not for the circumstance, the confusion on the kids face would have been hilarious.
“What?” Peter stuttered, his eyes wide. His eyelids began to flutter, and then he went limp in his arms.
Wade sighed.
“What’s going on here? Wade? I smell blood!”
Blind Al was back. Oh fucking great.
“I’m on my period! Get the first aid kit!”
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@alwaysonafieldtrip and @itsybitsyspiderboy - don’t ever play with guns.
