Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

Emergency Care: Interim

a/n: you know the drill, this is the fourth part to the nurse flash saga

Spooktober 31: Freespace (🎉)

Stop bleeding with deep pressure. Few minutes.

Clean the injury with water and non-scented soap. Hydrogen peroxide can't go on an open wound.

Stitch or keep together with butterflies bandages. Wrap in gauze, sealed bandages— reduces scarring.

"Eugene?"

Stop bleeding with deep pressure. Few minutes.

Flash moves around the food on his plate, makes a painting with his fork. Rice meets curry meets salad. His eyebrows dip in deep concentration as he imagines himself running through the motions.

Clean the injury with water and non-scented soap. Hydrogen peroxide can't go on an open wound.

Stitch or keep together with butterflies bandages. Wrap in gauze, sealed bandages—

"Eugene," his mother repeats firmly. Flash blinks and his chin jolts up. She gives him a look of dismay. "You've hardly touched your meal, dear. And your posture is terrible."

"Sorry, Mother." Flash straightens his spine, his shoulders brushing against the back of the chair. He politely spoons curry into his mouth, chews, swallows. He glances up at his mother, hesitates, and drops his gaze.

She sighs primly. The metal fork scrapes lightly against her plate, and she looks determinedly at her food instead of at him. "Is there something on your mind?"

Flash fights the urge to fidget. He digs the toe of his shoe into the floor, unseen under the table. "Well, I– I'm– yes, Mother."

"Don't stutter," she chides lightly. "What is it? Speak plainly, dear."

"Is Father going to be here soon?" He asks. The both of them look at the empty seat of the long, equally empty table. He turns anxiously to his mother. "I wanted to speak about my career after school. I've been thinking..."

He's been thinking about Parker bleeding out in bathrooms, and the way his hands steady to hold a needle, and the way Parker asked him if he ever wanted to be a nurse.

"Yes," she says, an impatient smile on her face. "You are nearing the age, it seems. There's no need to worry yourself sick, though. Your father and I have been discussing your plans already."

Flash's stomach sinks. He swallows, the taste of curry on his tongue turning to lead. "You have?"

She hums. "After you pursue your international business degree, your father has a position in the company for you to take."

Flash slowly puts his fork down. His eyes bore into the plate, willing it to crack, to shatter. He turns a few half-hearted words around his mouth. Weakly, he says: "Do I have to?"

Something in his mother's face closes. She folds her hands on her lap and stares intensely at him, eyes sharp as daggers. "What do you mean, darling?"

"I just—" Flash stops. He breathes carefully. "...was talking with a student, he's on the Decathlon team, and he offered me a potential spot at Stark Industries."

("I'll... put in a good word for you.")

And maybe Parker lied. Maybe he was hinging his future on a complete lie. Or, maybe— maybe it was a terrible idea anyways, if going by the way his mother's eyes light up.

"Stark?" She says cleanly, intrigue badly-hidden on her tongue. "Eugene, that's a very powerful company. Your father would be pleased. Does this internship later offer a permanent position?"