Peter Grayson Wayne, aka Parker later in the story. – He’s Spider-Man. I don’t think I need to describe him, as you know him from the story *Wayne’s Shadow, Spider Web* by @sddungu
Loki Odison – Is this the Loki you’re thinking of? Yes. It’s that Loki, but I’m not portraying him as a god, just a teenager in trouble with the law. In the story, he’s an illegal street racer. He’s there for every member of the team whenever anyone needs someone. He doesn’t talk much, but he sits in silence and won’t let you suffer alone. He’s quite a chaotic character. He has a natural ability to make people open up to him.
Matteo Dolitlle – Matteo is a good big brother who keeps the team’s chaos under control. It’s thanks to him that they haven’t all fallen apart yet. Oh, and he understands animals!
Tiara Daimond – A very sarcastic teenager. She’s sharp as a tack. Her comebacks are sharp. She can’t put people in their place with words, but she does it with her actions.
MJ – A classic character. You all know her, so why should I describe her? She’s a Red Hood fan in this story.
Ned Leeds – Yes, Ned is also part of the Spider-Team. Question. Why is he so slim? Well, he was also bitten by a spider, which means his superhuman metabolism caused him to lose weight quite quickly.
Sofia Rodriguez – She’s a typical ray of sunshine. She’s sweet, kind and full of joy. She has a natural tendency to bring joy to others.
When Miles G. is old enough to get the motorcycle from Aaron, he renovates it too, just like what he did to his mask and gauntlets, he loves that sick looking motor (I love it too). He's like a mini Jess,
like in a way when the spider-gang invites him to hang out, when they hear a portal opening and motorcycle they are like: "yep, 42's here"
and I love the idea of 42 having a motorcycle like his uncle
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Twelve: The Good Nurse
Summary: Peter's having nightmares and Angel just wants to be in her own bed.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, Mentions of injuries, medical equipment, nightmares, the Gwen thing, angst, fluff, genre typical tropes and topics.
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: Some might say that these two's relationship is just like a freaking yoyo. Also the women in the Daredevil universe keep sneaking into this story, hmmmm. I'm also trying to be reasonable with this recovery time so we got a lot of talking and bonding with different characters going on too.
TWELVE
Sirens blared, red and blue lights flashing as one cop car after another raced down the street. Peter stilled on the corner of the street as he watched them pass, that feeling in the back of his neck putting him on alert. He quickly turned down the closest alley, shedding his clothes and donning his suit as he began to climb up to the roof.
His feet pounded on the hard concrete rooftops as he jumped from one roof to the next before leaping diagonally off the last, free falling towards the ground. Thwip. He fired a web, the other end sticking to one of the nearby buildings and he swung himself forward. He carried on like that, chasing the sirens and flashing lights as they continued to move towards a large electrical surge at Oscorp tower.
As his feet finally hit the ground and he looked around he found he wasn’t at Oscorp. He was suddenly on the roof of a building in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen. He looked along the rooftop to find The Vulture, kitted out in some sort of flight gear and Angel.
“Oh no Pete, looks like I’ve got your girl.” The Vulture taunted.
Peter crouched into his fighting stance but the Vulture just laughed. But it wasn’t his laugh, it was much more chilling and familiar. The Goblin. Peter looked around frantically and when he turned back to Angel and the Vulture, neither of them were there. Instead he was at a clock tower. He looked above him to see The Goblin in a green suit and on a glider, in his grasp, flailing around in mid air. “GWEN!” he heard his voice shout. “GWEN!” But suddenly the image changed again. It wasn’t Gwen and it wasn’t the Goblin, it was Angel and the Vulture.
There was a scream as the Vulture let her go. “PEETTEEERRR!” she screamed.
He jumped off the building as her body passed him, his arms lying flat to his sides as he dove, his body piercing the air as it tried to catch up with her but no matter how fast he fell, she seemed to stay just out of his reach, her hands reaching for him. “I’m coming baby, I’m coming.” he said.
He reached out his arm, his fingers moving to release a web but nothing happened. He kept clicking the mechanism, but nothing happened. He could see the ground coming up fast behind her, he had to do something. ‘Come on!’ he groaned. He had one hand reaching out to her, his fingers inches away from hers, as he continued to tap his web shooter on his wrist with the other. Thwip! Smack! His body jolted to a stop just before he hit the ground but he was too late. He had just begun to process what had happened, red blood pooling out onto the side walk when-
Peter awoke with a start, his body jolting itself awake in the wooden high back armchair he had placed by the side of her bed. The steady sounds of beeping in the room quickly eased him, along with the steady sounds of her breathing beside him. He rubbed the sleep from his face as he shifted in the chair. He was still dressed in his shirt and trousers he’d worn all day for work and his skin felt pinched where some of the clothes had ridden up in his sleep. He let out a small moan and a sigh as he pulled his trouser legs back down slightly, sitting forward on the chair, his hand reaching out for hers.
She had been fast asleep when he had come back earlier. His moment with Hobie ended up being a bit longer than expected. Eddie had informed him of Angel and Felicia’s little spat while he’d been gone. He hoped Felicia would just walk it off and be back to work as normal in the morning like nothing had happened, but he wasn’t quite sure anymore. He wasn’t sure about anything. He hadn’t felt this unhinged since, well, Gwen; his dream only acting as a reminder for how everything could go so wrong.
They had been lucky, again, but it was only a matter of time before that luck ran out. It was clear that Adrian Toombes meant business, everything he had been through with Fisk mere child's play compared to the stakes the Vulture was willing to go to. The man wasn’t from the city. He had no respect for the people.
Peter had gone round and round in circles trying to talk to George Stacy and explain things.
“Come on Chief, you know this isn’t my game. Everything I’ve ever done in this city was to help it, not hurt it.”
“I don’t care Parker, you’ve brought a gang war to my streets, whatever happens now I can’t protect you. And if they can tie the bombing back to you they will and there’s nothing I can do to stop them from arresting you.”
“And what about you sir? Are you gonna arrest me? You know that without those hubs, crime goes up. You wanted me to hang up the suit and let the police do their jobs, I did that. You wanted me to find another way to help. I did that. I don’t want this fight here anymore than you do.”
“I’m sorry Peter, there’s nothing I can do.”
Peter lowered his forehead onto her hand, his eyes closing. He needed to think. He needed to work this out. He needed to keep her safe. No matter the cost he had to keep her safe. He kissed her hand before he got up and left the room.
He moved down the hall to his office that he had set up so he could be closer to her. He switched on a small table top lamp on his desk before he started rooting around in the boxes he’d had moved over. He then grabbed a roll of tape off of his desk and moved over to the far wall of the office. He wiggled the framed print that had been put up on the wall off of its hook, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the roll of tape and bits of paper. Once the wall was completely blank he started taping the bits of paper to it before rummaging around in the boxes once more for more pieces of paper. Scraps of newspaper articles, photos, hastily written notes, maps, all being added to the wall. When he ran out of things from the boxes he sat himself at his desk, opening up his laptop, searching and printing more things off until the entire wall was covered.
----
Angel woke up alone. She figured someone had to be at home but she had no idea who. She felt disgusting. She wanted to get up and just wash off all the sweat and grime from her body and give her teeth a good brush, but she couldn’t very well do that while she was plugged into these bloody machines, who’s beeping was starting to do her head in.
“PEETTE!” she called out. “PETERR!” There was a delay before Eddie came into the room. “Where’s Peter?” she asked.
“He had to go out again?”
“What time did he come back last night?” she pondered. She had tried to wait up for him but the drugs had made her so drowsy.
“He got back just before midnight I think? I mean I went home at like, quarter past so yeah, I’d say just before midnight.” Eddie rambled.
“When is he gonna be back?”
“Not sure? Why is there something you need?
“Yeah, I want to be free of all this.” she said, raising her hand and showing off the cannula and tube attached to it, motioning to all the other bits and bobs she was attached to. “And I want to have a shower.”
“Okay, okay.” Eddie said, sensing her distress. “I’ll call Pete, get him to get someone out to check you over and see what they say. In the meantime, can I get you any breakfast?”
She thought for a moment before she said, “UUUhh I could murder one of those bagels from-”
“That shop on the boulevard?” Eddie finished for her, more than familiar with the place himself.
“Yesss.” she beamed.
“Cream cheese?”
‘Yup.”
“Coming right up.” he said as he left the room.
“Morning?” Miles said as he hobbled in on his crutches.
“Heyy.” She greeted him with a smile.
Miles used his crutches to hop across the floor and grab the TV remote from where it had been left the night before. He hit the power button, letting it load, before he swung himself over to the chair at the side of her bed.
“How you doing?” she asked.
“Not bad. Docs got me on these painkillers.” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small tube of pills, tossing it on the bed in her direction. “Pretty good stuff.” he joked.
“How’s your leg?” she continued to ask as she looked over the label of the bottle before handing it back to him.
“Ehhh, I’ve had worse.” Angel raised her eyebrows at him, pressing him to continue. “Okay, maybe I haven't,” he said, doubling back on himself and making her smile. “What about you?”
“Sore.” she said, her hand moving to ghost across her ribs.
“I bet… Hey, at least you didn’t have internal bleeding.” he joked.
“What?” she frowned.
He chuckled. “The paramedic rushed you out of there because she thought you might have internal bleeding. Hit the side of that car pretty hard. Not seen a dent like that since my cousin pinched my Uncle's car and jumped a red light.”
“Well that would explain why my body feels like it’s been hit by a truck.” she joked back. They both let out a small chuckle before she coughed and winced in pain.
“Heard you wanna be off that stuff. You sure it’s a good idea?” Miles asked.
“If I have to stay chained to this bed for one more day I’m gonna end up committing murder.” She jested. “Hey, maybe they’ll put me on some of those painkillers you’ve got, I mean, it seems like they’re doing a good job.”
“Nah, I’m just built like a house, man.” Miles continued to joke.
Miles flicked through the channels until they found a movie they both wanted to watch, settling down and watching Jumanji. Eddie returned about 30 minutes into the movie, dragging his own chair into the room and they all sat there watching the movie as they ate their bagels.
When the movie was done, Eddie left the room as Miles and Angel went back and forth about what to watch next.
“The Princess Bride.” Miles threw out. “I am Inigo Montoya, you killed my Father, prepare to die.” he said as he impersonated the famous line.
“Ehhh. What about Shrek?” Angel asked as they shuffled through the movies on Netflix.
“I watched it while you were out for the count the other day.” Miles interjected. “OOOH what about Hook?”
“Nahh, I’ve already watched one Robin Williams film today, I can’t do another, it’ll just make me dwell on the fact that he’s dead and it’ll depress me again.”
“Big Robin Williams fan then.” Miles observed as he continued to flick through the movies.
“My Mom was.” Angel replied.
“What was her favourite?” Miles asked.
“Mrs Doubtfire.” Angel smiled as a memory of her and her parents sitting down to watch the movie on a Saturday night when she was little, crossed her mind.
“Oh I love that film.” Miles said before breaking into yet another bad impression. “HELP IS ON THE WAY DEAR!” he called out before chuckling to himself.
“Oh what about this.” Angel said eagerly as Miles stopped on The School of Rock. “Uhh I loved this film growing up. It’s what made me learn how to play the bass guitar.”
“You know how to play the bass.”
“Knew. I knew how to play the bass. I haven’t played since I was maybe 14 when the reality of my Dad’s job finally hit home and I realised I was never gonna be in an actual band.”
“Why’s that?”
“When your Dad’s Wilson Fisk, you don’t tend to have many friends.” Angel said a little disheartened by her childhood memories.
“That sucks.”
“Yup.” she quietly agreed.
“You know I’ve never actually watched it.” Miles said as he started to load the film.
“You what!?” Angel’s head whipped around to him in shock.
“Yeah, it was a little after my time.”
“A little after your time!” Angel’s eyebrows raised. “Are you calling me old? I thought you said you weren’t a kid.” she continued to jest and poke at him.
“Oh shut up, you know what I mean.” he grumbled.
----
Angel fell asleep around half way through the movie. One second she was watching the kids pretending to be sick with ‘stickittothemanosis’, the next she was waking up 2 hours later. She was alone again, Miles no doubt having hobbled out on his crutches to leave her to sleep as soon as the film ended. ‘Uuuuhhgg.’ she groaned stiffly, as she tried to prop herself back up against the pillows again. She really hated how all these drugs were starting to make her feel.
She was about to call out for Eddie to chase him up about the doctors when her phone buzzed.
She frowned as her head turned to the bedside table where it sat. The only person who had ever really messaged her on it was her Dad and he was dead. ‘Maybe Peter had noticed it last night and put his number in it and it was him’ she thought. When she pulled it over and opened it up, it wasn’t Peter. She didn’t know who it was. It was an unknown number. There was a message, sent 6 minutes ago.
‘And there was me thinking Felicia Day was the Black Cat, but you seem to have 9 lives all of your own.’
The message wasn’t signed off.
‘Who is this? How did you get this number?’ she typed back.
Nothing. The message said it had been seen, but nothing. There was no response. ‘What the fuck?’ she frowned as she analysed the series of numbers attached to the message, trying to work out if they were familiar or not. They weren’t.
“Hey, Baby.” Peter said as he strode into the room. “What’s wrong?” he observed, his face suddenly becoming paranoid and serious as he observed her look of confusion towards her phone.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” she said shrugging off the message and closing her phone, placing it back on the bedside table.
“Okaaayyy.” Peter said slowly. “So I hear you’re not being a very good patient.” Peter pivoted the conversation.
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” she said back.
“Oh really. Picking fights with Felicia, making demands left right and centre.”
“All I want is a shower Pete.” she tried to reason with a sickly sweet demeanour. “Look at me, I look disgusting. I feel disgusting. And I know you can smell me from over there Spider boy so don’t try and spin me some web about me smelling like roses because it aint happening. Get me off this shit, I want to have a shower.” she said as she gestured towards the machines and tubes around her. “Oh and by the way, I can get up and pee for myself just fine thank you without this fucking thing.” she said as she pointed out the catheter, the thing that irritated her the most.
“Okay, okay, sassy pants.” she frowned at the old nickname she hadn’t heard since she was probably 23. “Docs on his way up okay.”
“Thank you.” she sighed in relief at the news.
“Don’t know how well it’s gonna go though-”
“Pete, I swear to whichever God so happens to be listening right now, if you are about to make a comment and rub it in my face about your regenerative spider abilities-”
“-I’m not, I’m not.” he said, his hands being thrown up in front of him defensively. “I’m just saying no matter how much you don’t like it, you still have broken ribs and a-”
“-fractured wrist, I know!” she said back. “But unlike Miles, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my legs.” she began to snarl as her irritation began to rise again.
“Okay, okay!” Peter said again, his voice getting higher in pitch the more agitated she became.
They were gratefully interrupted by the Doctor who came in, a nurse in blue scrubs hot on his tail as he came into the room.
“Ahhh Miss Fisk,”
“Parker.” Both Angel and Peter corrected together.
“Sorry, Mrs Parker,” the older gentleman said, correcting himself. From his balding hair and crows feet, Angel assumed he must have been in his early 50s. “Right so I’m here to take a look at things, my name is Dr Healey,” he said, “this is Nurse Temple.”
“Just Claire’s fine.” the younger woman interjected, her hands slipping into her pockets as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting to start her work after the Doctor’s assessment. Angel sent a small smile of apology her way for having to work with the good doctor.
“Okay…” Dr Healy said as he started up his regular spiel again. “I’m just gonna check over your vitals, take a look at the bandaging on those ribs, do a couple of physical tests to check your movements-”
“Just get me out of the bed Doc.” Angel snipped at him, eliciting Claire to look down at her feet to hide the smile across her face and the small snicker that escaped her lips.
“Yes, well… very well then.” Dr Healy said, suddenly on the back foot.
“Angel.” Peter chastised.
“What?!” she threw back defensively. “I just want to shower and be able to pee for myself. I’m not planning on going anywhere other than the bathroom- and maybe my own bed,” she quickly added, “I promise.” she said to him.
Peter sighed as he gave in. “Can we do that Doc?” Peter asked him.
“Yeah, of course we can.” Claire chimed in as she stepped forward, grabbing a pair of gloves out of her bag and slipping them on as she started to make her way around the side of the bed.
“Umm yes, yes.” The Doctor hesitantly agreed, still on the back foot.
As Claire began to remove the cannula from the back of Angel’s hand, the Doctor checked over Angel’s abrasions and mobility. She was still very sore and achy but with slow careful movements the Doctor finally conceded, with a nod of his head before moving away to allow Claire to remove the catheter, as he wrote out a prescription for some painkillers.
“Okay, this is gonna feel uncomfortable.” Claire said to Angel as she started to brace her fingers around the small tube attached between Angel’s legs. “Okay I need you to take a deep breath for me alright, I’m gonna count you in okay?” she attempted to reassure. “1,2,3-”
Angel let out a small wince as she was detached from the catheter. “There, you go, there you go.” Claire coached softly.
“Okay, you’re probably gonna want help taking that shower.” Claire informed as she moved back around the bed to where Angel was already trying to shift her legs over the side of the mattress. “Actually if I’m honest, I don’t really recommend a shower at all, just maybe a really shallow bath and a wipe off with a washcloth.” she continued to say as she took her gloves off before reaching her hands out to Angel’s to help steady her as she stood.
After being stuck in bed with little mobility for the last 3 days, it was no surprise Angel’s legs wobbled and gave out when she tried to stand. “It’s alright I got you.” Claire said as she took most of Angel’s weight against her own body, as Peter raced around the bed to help. “It’s okay, you’ve been lying down for a while now, this is normal, just give your legs a chance for the blood flow to get round them again, you’ll be okay.”
Angel felt slightly dizzy as her blood now raced around her body, finally reaching her toes properly for the first time in days.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Peter said as he swapped places with Claire.
“Yeah no problem.” Claire said as she allowed Peter to take over. “Umm I can go start getting the bathtub ready if you want?” she offered.
“Yeah, it’s just across the hall.” Peter informed her as she began to leave. “You okay?” he asked, checking in with his wife.
“Yup.” she said fighting through the mild pain in her back and ribs and the odd sensation in her legs.
“You ready to start moving?” She didn’t give a verbal response, just nodded. “You want me to carry you?” he asked, noting her obvious attempt to downplay her pain.
“Nope, I’ve got this.” she reassured him with heavy breaths as she began to start hobbling with his assistance towards the door.
“Uh Mr Parker.” Dr Healy interjected, “She’s gonna need this prescription filled out as soon as possible.” He said lifting up the bit of paper he had just ripped off of his notepad.
“Uh Yeah, okay. Can you pass it on to one of the guys down the hall?” Peter threw back over his shoulder. “Preferably not the one with crutches.” Peter tried to joke, using it as some way of apology and ease the tension created by his stubborn wife.
“Ummm yes, of course.” The Doctor stammered as he attempted to gather back up his things.
“There we go.” Claire said as she helped Peter eaze Angel into the bathtub. The water was shallow, only just covering her legs and hips as she sat herself upright in the tub, her arms resting on the sides of the bath to prop her up and make sure she wasn’t leaning back against her ribs in the hard tub.
Peter could sense Angel’s tension at having Claire watch over his shoulder as his hand reached into the water for the red washcloth she had found and placed into the tub.
“Make sure you ring it out well, she can’t get her bandages wet.” Claire informed.
“Okay, okay. I think I’ve got it.” Peter said, turning his head to look at her. “Ummm thank you, I think I can take care of things from here.” Peter said, kindly dismissing her.
“Okay.” Claire conceded with a nod. “I’m just gonna hang around out there for a moment just in case there is anything you need.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.” Peter said, driving home her dismissal a little harder this time.
“Okay. It was nice to meet you.” Claire said over Peter’s shoulder to Angel with a wave.
“Thank you.” Angel said timidly from behind the cover of Peter’s body.
When Claire left the room, Peter began brushing the damp cloth across Angel’s bruised skin. “What?” she queried when he began to frown.
“It’s just,” his voice said quietly as his fingers traced across one of the bruises on the top of her chest.
“I know, I know.” she said equally as softly as she too took in the bruising all over her body.
“It just… makes me feel so helpless.” Peter confessed.
“I know. But this isn’t your fault Pete and you know it.” she tried to reassure him.
There was a pause between them before he said, “I had a dream last night.” he confided. “She was in it.”
“Gwen?” Angel confirmed.
“Yeah.”
Gwen had still been alive when Peter had first swung into her life, saving her from that explosion at her Dad’s warehouse. They hadn’t met again until after Gwen had died. They used to run into each other at the cemetery, her visiting her Mom, him visiting Gwen. They used to just sit with each other and talk, reminisce about their loved ones.
“I’m not her Peter.”
“I know that.” he sighed. “I know that.” he said more confidently. “It’s just…” his voice trailed off and tears began to form in his eyes, “I can’t lose you too okay? Not again, not for good, okay?”
“Okay.” she repeated quietly, a silent promise just between the two of them.
“You can’t be doing shit like that again, you know?”
She looked confused, “What go help out at-”
“No, I mean, what happened downstairs. You can’t- I can’t” he corrected himself, “I don’t know how to keep you safe when you do shit like that okay.”
“But maybe you’re not meant to.” she said cautiously as he continued to wipe at her skin, “Maybe you can’t, maybe you’re not meant to. Maybe that’s…” her voice trailed off as she had a thought ‘Maybe that was what her Father was training her for all along.’
“Maybe that’s what?” he asked, growing tense at the idea of not being able to protect her, to keep his own wife safe.
“Peter, maybe that was the point of my Dad keeping me away from you. Not just to protect me, but to show me how to stand on my own two feet, how to protect myself.”
“But you shouldn’t have to-”
“And why not? Because you’re my husband and that’s your job? Bullshit. Who’s there to save you huh? When shit hits the fan, which it already has, mind you; who looks out for you?” She looked deeply into his eyes. “Who is there to save you?”
-----------------------------------------
New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!
Oh yeah, that reminds me: how many spare costumes do each of you have? I presume you're not wearing the same set of tights every single day and letting the smell of sweat accumulate until laundry day.
-Specs
Five to six for both me and Scarlet. Angelica has about…seven, I think?— Lucky
While Lucky’s correct on his and Scarlet’s wardrobe, Angelica’s up to eight or nine. Since the insulative lining in those suits is a bitch and a half to wash, it helps to have a spare or two.— Gwen
And since Gwen’s job is to sit around the apartment all day doing tech and dispatch stuff, she just wears alternating tops and yoga pants.— Scarlet
