Wings || Peter Parker

6: Stains

Trigger warning: blood

"Hello?" Wanda answered her door groggily, her eyes widening when she saw my hands. "Are you alright?" She stepped out of her room and grabbed my hands, examining them closely.

I shook my head, grabbing her hand and walking back to Peter's room.

"Oh no." She followed me, brushing against my wings as she entered the room. I stayed in the doorway so there was more space for Wanda.

Peter was lying on the floor just as I'd left him, except the puddle of blood was much larger. His suit was stained with blood, shining from the lamp he'd left on his desk.

"Peter-" Wanda whispered. "Max, go get Tony. I'll keep this under control for now."

I nodded and rushed to the elevator. There was blood all over my hands, wet and sticky as it was drying. I slid on the tile floor in my socks, crashing to the floor. 

Picking myself up, I managed to smear Peter's blood all over the white floor, and the elevator buttons. I tried to wipe away some of the blood on the elevator with my shirt hem, but it just made it worse.

It finally stopped, letting me off at his lab. A handprint recognition screen was next to the door. I placed my hand on it, punching it when it didn't work. It left a streak of blood, and I resorted to pounding on the glass. 

Mr. Stark was wearing headphones, shouting words I couldn't hear thanks to the thick glass. 

Without thinking I picked up the out-of-place potted plant and smashed it against the glass. Dirt and shattered clay pot covered the floor, along with the poor tree. 

Mr. Stark glanced up, ripping off his headphones when he noticed the commotion.

He hurried to the door, shouting a command to open it. He ran next to me, flipping around my hands to check for damage.

"Where are you hurt?" He asked.

I shook my head, though I could feel tiny clay shards in my palms.  I pointed to the elevator.

"What happened?"

I waved my arms around when the elevator opened and he ran out. I followed, my wings smacking every doorframe on the way.

"Shit." He mumbled, entering the doorway. 

Wanda had red light cast over Peter. He was sleeping peacefully, and the blood was plugged with her magic. "Oh thank god." She exclaimed. "You're back."

"Maximoff, bring him to the medbay." Mr. Stark spoke. "Max, come with us and wake up Banner. He's room six."

Wanda lifted Peter off the floor with her magic. It carried him encased in red, swirling light, Mr. Stark following closely behind.

My wings slapped the door frames on the way back, but I found room six. I pounded on the door, leaving splattered blood drops there.

"What?" He groaned from inside.

I banged on the door again.

"What?!" He shouted, swinging open his door. A slight tinge of green showed on his neck. "Max? Is that what the ruckus was?"

I pointed to the elevator, folding my wings to my sides for warmth. 

"What do you need?"

I pulled his arm to the doors.

"What happened?" He grabbed his hoodie from a chair in his room and rushed out.

I pushed him in and pressed the medbay button, stepping back into the hall before the doors shut.

I stood there for a moment, watching the light slip through the crack between the doors and disappear.

A creak of a door alerted me of another presence. I turned around and saw the man with the metal arm poking his head out of his door.

He spoke, making eye contact with me. "Why is someone hitting the doors?"

Another voice spoke up from inside his room. "Yeah, what's up with that?" Steve Rogers added.

I stared.

"It's okay." Metal arm man said. "Just be more careful next time."

I nodded.

"Why are you covered in blood?" He asked.

I motioned to Peter's room, and the blood streaks on the floor.

"Parker got hurt?" Metal arm man asked.

"Queens?" Steve Rogers asked.

I nodded. Now I was just the messenger. 

"Is it bad?" Metal arm man asked.

I nodded.

"Damn. We'll check on him soon." The man closed his door and turned the light off.

I sighed quietly, trying to wipe the blood from my hands. There were drops all over my socks, and smudges on my shirt. Some was already hardened and crusty.

I went back to my room, closing the door behind me and stripping off my stained shirt. If I was in the facility they would have scolded me for staining a white shirt. I brought it to my bathroom, running the water till it was warm in the sink. 

I scrubbed hard at the red marks until my hands were raw. They didn't come out. My fingertips were dyed red, and under my fingernails were dark red, almost brown. 

I bit my lip, cringing when the shirt didn't stay clean. I threw it in the bathtub and started running the water. It was loud, loud enough to hurt my ears. I poured tons of soap on the shirt, scrubbing it together beneath the surface.

Nothing worked.

It had faded, but it would never be gone.

I groaned, leaving the tub full of water, and exited the room. I shook my hands dry, ruffling my wing feathers at the same time. 

Taking my second shirt from my bag, I slid it over my head and buttoned the back flap, which allowed easy access to put it on over my wings.

It looked and fit just the same as the other one. That was the way all my shirts were, identical so I looked no different any day.

Thankfully the pajama pants Peter had given me weren't stained bad, so I wouldn't have to go back to my tight-fitting athletic pants the facility had me wear. I just rinsed the cuffs under warm water and scrubbed out the drops. There were still stains, but it was red plaid, and very hard to notice.

My socks were done for, which angered me to another level because they were my only pair.

I returned to my bed later than one AM, not falling asleep until two or three from anxiety.

Peter was my only friend. He couldn't die. He wouldn't die. He'd be fine. He said before that he had regenerative powers. Hopefully, that meant he would heal faster.

Even with that knowledge, I panicked until Mr. Stark called me to the Medbay.