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“Peter!” Tim gasped as Peter fell into the window of their shared apartment, landing in a bloody heap on the floor. They had moved in together five months after they started dating, three months after Tim learned the truth, and Peter was loving it.
He had been out on patrol as Spider-Man as usually, but circumstances had him returning to their apartment to fix himself up.
He groggily pulled off his mask, discarding it on the floor. “Heyyy Timmy.” Peter slurred, hands putting pressure on the knife wound in his side.
“Peter!” Tim said louder, rushing to Peter’s side and pressing his own hand to the wound. “What the hell happened?!”
What had happened was Peter was stupidly caught off guard, not realizing there was someone behind him while tying up a mugger and not realizing that someone had a rusty ass knife. He should probably say that out loud and tell Tim then.
“What’re y’doing here?” He asked instead, his head falling to the side. He was ninety-nine percent sure Tim was supposed to be at the Manor right about now.
“I got done with Bruce and Dick early.” Tim said sharply. “Hold on, don’t move.” He added sternly before getting up and running to the kitchen, returning with a first aid kit.
Tim sighed, falling to his knees beside Peter and opening the medkit. “Karen, remove the suit, please.” He requested, grabbing a needle and thread. Karen complied quickly, the nanites returning to their smartwatch form. “Now, tell me what happened.”
Peter waved him off lazily, attempting a smile. “‘Tis but a scratch.”
“Peter.” Tim bit out, obviously losing his patience.
“M-mugger.” Peter answered after a momentary pause, his voice heavily slurred. “Caught me off guard.”
“Caught you off guard.” Tim echoed, sounding distinctly unimpressed.
“Mhm.” Peter hummed, jerkily nodding his head.
“And why didn’t you go to the Clinic?” Tim asked a bit sharply as he began stitching Peter back together.
“Mmh, can do it myself.” Peter said blearily, wincing in pain as the needle slipped through his skin.
“Really?” Tim raised a brow, lips pursing. He was making a very not happy face, one Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.
“Mhm.” Peter whimpered.
“Really?” He said again, tugging on the thread a bit hard. “Because you’re currently bleeding out on our floor.”
“M’fine.” Peter said just before he passed out.
Tim’s hissed words were the last thing he heard. “Fuck.”
Peter woke with a groan, his body feeling sore. He winced as the sunlight hit his eyelids, blinking blearily against the shine. His head felt fuzzy as he tried to think of the last thing he remembered.
He jerked back slightly when he noticed Tim, sitting at the end of the bed with a laptop open on his lap.
“Morning sunshine.” Tim deadpanned, looking at Peter through narrowed eyes.
“Morning?” Peter croaked back, falling into a short coughing fit.
“Is that all you have to say?” Tim asked sharply, slamming his laptop closed and turning to face Peter directly.
“W-what?” Peter whispered, grimacing as he moved to sit up.
“Last night?” Tim asked, lips pursed. “Bleeding out on our floor? Ringing any bells?”
“Oh.” Peter breathed, memories of the night before hitting him all at once. Shit, he was in trouble.
“Yeah, oh. ” Tim bit out. “How many times have you done that? Just come home and stitched yourself up instead of going to the clinic or coming to one of us?”
That felt like a trick question. Could Peter abstain? Where was Matt when you needed him?Peter turned his head, cheeks pinking. “Um.” He cleared his throat, avoiding Tim’s eyes.
“Peter!” Tim gaped, eyes widening. “You can’t even tell me how many times?”
“I’m sorry!” Peter blurted. “I can take care of myself!” And he could. He had for a long time. Just because he had people on his side didn’t mean he needed to burden them with his problems. He wanted to keep these people, not scare them away with all of his problems.
“You could’ve died!” Tim spat out, body shaking with something . Rage or fear.
Peter shook his head. Tim was wrong, he was fine. “I’m fine!” Peter promised, gesturing to his almost healed side. “See?”
“Peter. I’m telling you, you could’ve died. You don’t need to just take care of yourself anymore. You have us. You have me. Please Peter.” Tim said seriously, his face set.
“I can take care of myself, though. I don’t need-“ Peter began a bit snappishly, feeling the slightest bit defensive.
“Peter.” Tim cut him off sternly. “I- you can’t do this again. You have to ask for help, please.”
“Why?” Peter asked a bit petulantly. “I have super healing.” Fact.
“Super healing doesn’t equal immortality!” Tim snapped viciously, hand cutting through the air. Unfortunately, also a fact.
“Tim-“ Peter pleaded.
“No!” Tim bit out angrily. “No, I love you! I love you and I can’t fucking lose you because you’re being an idiot who doesn’t know how to ask for help. I mean were you even going to tell me you were hurt?” He ranted.
Peter’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He had thought it of course, they’d been together for seven months after all but they’d never said it out loud. Peter too scared of making it real and Tim for reasons unknown to Peter. “You love me?” He whispered, heavy with emotion.
“I-“ Tim looked shocked and then flustered before determination took over. “Yes, I love you.”
“You do?” Peter murmured, eyes widening.
“I just said it, didn’t I?” Tim snapped before softening and gently curling into Peter’s arms. “Please don’t ever do this again. My heart can’t take it.”
Peter’s nose scrunched up and he pressed a kiss to the top of Tim’s head. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to ask for help from now on.” He whispered against his hair.
“I’m still mad at you.” Tim mumbled into his chest.
“Is this our first fight?” Peter said quietly, eyes slipping shut.
“Guess so.” Tim answered through a loud yawn.
“Sorry.” Peter repeated, feeling his chest warm when Tim only nuzzled his face unto the crook of Peter’s neck.