Toomes pressed the advantage. Another slash. Peter dodged but barely. The blade cut his mask. Tore a hole in it.
"You're just a kid," Toomes said. Disgust in his voice. "A stupid kid playing hero."
He kicked Peter in the chest. Peter flew backward. Hit a car. Dented the door with the impact.
Toomes turned back toward Alex. "Where were we?"
Sirens in the distance. Police coming. Toomes hesitated. Looked at the approaching sounds. Then at Alex.
"Next time," he said. Launched into the air. Disappeared between buildings.
Peter limped over. Collapsed next to Alex. "You okay?"
"I think so. You?"
"Been better." Peter's shoulder was bleeding pretty badly. "We should go before cops get here."
"You need a hospital."
"Can't. They'd ask questions. See my face." Peter pulled Alex up. "Can you walk?"
"Maybe."
They limped together into an alley. Got away from the main street before police arrived. Found a quiet spot behind a dumpster where Peter could catch his breath.
"Thanks," Alex said. "For saving me."
"That's what friends do." Peter pulled off his torn mask. His face was pale. Sweating. "That guy was intense."
"Adrian Toomes. Former Oscorp engineer. Norman fired him."
"Great. So Norman's making enemies who take it out on random people." Peter winced and touched his shoulder. "This hurts."
Alex examined the cut. Deep but not life threatening. "You need stitches."
"Can you do it?"
"What? No. I'm not a doctor."
"You're smart. You've read medical stuff." Peter looked at him with desperate eyes. "Please. I can't go to a hospital."
Alex stared at his friend. At the blood. At the fear mixed with determination.
"Fine. But we're doing this properly. My apartment. I have first aid supplies."
They took back streets to Alex's place. Avoided main roads and cameras. Peter kept his hood up. His face hidden.
In Alex's apartment, Peter sat on the couch while Alex gathered supplies. Needle and thread. Antiseptic. Bandages. He'd bought extensive first aid equipment weeks ago. Just in case.
"This is going to hurt," Alex warned.
"Just do it."
Alex cleaned the wound. Peter hissed but stayed still. The cut was about three inches long. Clean edges. The blade had been sharp.
Threading the needle took three tries. Alex's hands were shaking. Adrenaline wearing off. Reality setting in.
He'd almost died. Would have died if Peter hadn't been there.
"You saved my life," Alex said quietly. Started the first stitch.
"Yeah."
"That makes us even. I helped you with your powers. You kept me from getting killed."
"That's not how friendship works." Peter gritted his teeth as Alex pulled the thread through. "We don't keep score."
"Maybe we should. Might be safer."
"What do you mean?"
Alex focused on the stitching. Tried to keep his hands steady. "I've been thinking about something. Superhero Comic Book logic that we used to read back then. Their narrative patterns. Bad things happen to people close to superheroes. It's a trope for a reason."
"That's fiction."
"Is it? Uncle Ben's been after you lately about staying out late. Aunt May is worried. They're your family. Your responsibility. And you're putting them at risk by being Spider-Man."
Peter was quiet. Alex finished the fifth stitch.
"I'm careful."
"You can't be careful enough. Not really. Villains will figure out who you are eventually. When they do, they'll go after everyone you know. Everyone you care about."
"So what, I should just stop? Let people get hurt?"
"No." Alex tied off the final stitch. Started bandaging. "You should be smarter. More strategic. Stop treating this like a game."
"I don't treat it like a game."
"You post videos online. Make jokes while fighting. You're sixteen years old playing superhero without thinking about consequences."
Peter pulled away. "You don't get it. I have these powers. If I don't use them to help people, what's the point?"
"The point is survival. Yours and everyone around you."
"That's a pretty cold way to look at it."
"Cold keeps you alive." Alex packed away the first aid supplies. "Just think about what I said. Please."
Peter stood. Tested his shoulder. "Thanks for the stitches. Even if they come with a lecture."
"Anytime."
Peter left through the window. Swung away into the evening. Alex watched him go and felt something heavy settle in his chest.
'He's not going to listen,' Alex thought. 'He's going to keep being a hero until it gets him or someone he loves killed.'
And Alex was friends with him. Which meant Alex was a target too.
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