Peter probably should've taken the award for best stress manager. Studying for all of his exams, being Spider-Man, attending the Decathlon meets, helping Tony in the lab, not blowing off Ned because of some late work he forgot to do because of Spider-Man.

Yeah, he'd say that he was doing pretty good in his life right about now. Unfortunately, the sentiment was not shared among his friends and teammates. Steve for one, had constantly acted like a concerned mother.

"Peter, I know you have the whole solo vigilante gig going on, but even you need a break. Please take a nap or eat something, hell, play on your phone, just give your brain a rest."

Michelle and Ned had given him looks throughout the day on Friday before confronting him at lunch. Michelle had lightly punched him in the arm to get his attention.

"No offense Peter, but racoons are jealous of those bags underneath your eyes." She sassed as she gently poked one of the dark crescents. Ned had fidgeted a bit before mumbling something.

"Peter, you should really take a nap or something, dude."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed as he stammered, "Wait-wait, what? Guys, I feel-I feel pretty good right now, y'know?" He looked around at the people passing them and leaned in with a whisper, "I just put away an entire gang. Just in jail," He snapped his fingers. "Like that."

"You're 'super secret crime fighting' isn't the subject here, Parker. It's your health." MJ scolded. "When the hell was the last time you slept?" She didn't phrase it like a question, more like a demand.

"Last night!" Peter defended himself. Did they really think that low of him for him to completely disregard his health? His hand was brought up to his chest to gesture to himself. "I had, like, 45 minutes of sleep last night and I've never felt better!"

Ned flailed his hands around looked horrified with his mouth gaping open, "Peter, that's a manic episode!"

"Sounds festive."

~~~

Clint Barton thought that without the mask, Spider-Man would have been easier to figure out. Boy, was he wrong.

"My name's Peter Parker or Spider-Man, with a hyphen, nice to officially meet you Mr. Barton."

With a hypen. That nonchalant little shit.

It seemed as if Peter Parker had a plus of different sides to him that were different. To his friend he was a super cool person who built Legos with him with a side job as a vigilante, to his school he was a hypercompetent nerd who dabbled in chemistry.

To Queens he was this powerful hero who would do anything to protect a stranger. But to the the Avengers, well, he was a kid trying to make a difference in a world where he had powers thrusted at him without his consent.

Spider-Man came out of it.

'...two friends one surviving family member'

And Spider-Man was 15.

16 in three months.

Clint could practically hear his voice in his head, dear god. But he couldn't deny that he'd gotten close to Spid-Peter.

He'd gotten close to Peter.

Peter Parker was kind of a mystery for being someone who can't really lie. They knew he wasn't innocent, they knew he wasn't some naive kid, he was a hero after all. But if they did know one thing about Peter, it was that he was a damn good person. Somehow, he'd gained the Avengers affection and care as two different people.

So when Peter sulked into the common room with a face looking like it had been dipped in red and purple paint in his suit, which was in tatters, he had been concerned.

"Kid, what the hell is up with your face?!" Clint shot off of the couch and sped towards Peter, who looked surprised at his worry. He placed his hands on his shoulders to get a better look at him.

Red skid marks adorned a side of his face while his obviously broken nose bled heavily. One of his eyes was surrounded by a nasty bruise that went along with the rest on his chin and cheeks.

"Y'know, it's really rude for you to even insinuate that someone is ugly. I expected better of you, Mr. Barton." Peter sassed.

Clint couldn't help but laugh a little at that. The kid was snarky even with his face looking like...that. "Okay, we're gonna bring you to Medical and fix you up because God knows that face is horrendous."

"Again, with these insinuations-"

Clint cut him off as he led Peter to the elevator and hastily clicked a button. It was silence for a few seconds. "So what sort of curse did a witch cast on you, kid?"

Peter mock gasped, "I have you know, my face has more of a pop of color to it then ever before-"

"That's called blood."

Peter let out a laugh at that then gave a harsh hiss in pain. Clint winced in sympathy. Jesus Christ, this kid looked bad.

"Y'know that little gang fight that broke out this afternoon? It was around the weird bodega, I forgot the name. It was on the news."

Clint nodded a bit. A gang fight had broke out a little while ago though it was odd that it took place in broad daylight. Something causing the increased crime rate some place underground is what the police had said.

Peter took that as a sign to continue, "I was helping cops when a guy's bullet hit my web and caused me to fall from, I think, 30 feet? I slid across the ground pretty roughly, but I'm okay for the most part."

Clint stared at him with an unbelieving glare. "Your nose bleed is heavier than the weight of my sins, kid."

Peter threw his head back, "Oh that's a mood." He quickly put on his mask with a hurry when the elevator dinged and they were met with doctors wandering the halls.

"We need Dr. Cho, please and thank you!" Clint yelled to the doctors, who scrambled to get her when they saw the blood, as he directed Peter into a room with a little urgency. He really couldn't help it, there was a teenager looking like hell in front of him.

The room was pretty standard for a medbay. It's white walls were slightly shadowed by the machines and a cot sat in the middle with a heart monitor next to it.

"It isn't that big of a deal, Mr. Barton. My healing will take care of it," Peter began frantically, his inner teenager starting to show. He took his mask back off. "It's not even that bad! We don't need Dr. Cho for this, really. The worst thing about this is the nose!"

Clint began to argue with Peter for a bit and ended up with a deadpan.

"It all looks bad, Pete," He said with a sigh. "If Tony knew about this you'd either get a high-five or a lecture, I'm not really sure anymore."

"Woah, I'd get a high-fi-"

Peter was interupted by the door opening and shutting quickly. Dr. Cho entered with a small smile and immediately winced a little bit upon seeing him. "Peter, hi! You look a little rough. I saw what happened on the news," She stated politely as she grabbed a chair. "No worries though, I'll be able to fix you up."

Helen sat on her chair and peered at his face closely, "With your healing, we mainly need to clean these cuts and scrapes, the bruising will take care of itself. Your nose needs to be set back though."

Peter turned and gave a face that Clint could tell was mocking.

Dear Christ, this kid was going to kill him.

~~

A few hours later after the sun had set, Peter sat on the couch with his nose covered in a bandage. Three bandaids sat on his face where cuts hadn't healed yet and the bruises had begun to get lighter. That didn't mean that his arms didn't feel like lead or that his eyes seemed to flutter shut every three seconds. But all-in-all, he looked less like death and more like halfway alive.

Peter expected to be scolded sooner or later, but he didn't expect to be faced with two different Avengers who looked like disappointed moms. Natasha and Steve stood in front of him.

Clint had fed him to the goddamn wolves.

"Peter, I thought I told you to take a break," Steve pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "You look exhausted, for one. That's probably why you got hurt in the first place."

Natasha didn't need to say anything. Her pocker face was enough as she raised one immaculate eyebrow. Peter could already feel his hands shaking.

"I'm fine, Captain Rogers." He said, his voice steely. Steve seemed to soften a bit at that and sighed. He sat down next to Peter who flinched a bit at the sudden movement.

"Kid, you look ready to pass out any second now." Steve said gently and placed a hand on his shoulder. Peter sharply breathed out and let his eyes close. He couldn't seem to get them to open afterwards.

"Feel like it too," He grumbled. He wasn't lying either, his eyes seemed glued shut now and he couldn't move his body at all.

"I'm going to go tell Stark he's spending the night." Natasha said with finality. She left the room quietly, pulling out her phone.

"Don't go on patrol tomorrow, Peter," Steve spoke as he took a blanket off the lounging chair and put it around Peter's shoulders. He lightly pushed him down so he layed down instead of sitting up. "Go back to being 100 before you hit the streets again, okay?"

Peter couldn't find it in himself to argue. God knows one night of sleep wasn't going to help completely. "Like a one day vacation?" He murmured into the couch.

"Yeah." He answered. "A one day vacation for the most hardworking vigilante I know."

Peter could get behind that, he guessed. The warm blanket wrapped around him helped his thoughts fade away peacefully into unconsciousness.

For the first time in days, Peter had actually slept.

~~~~~~~~

Oh god that ending was so bad. I really have to start planning ahead of time instead of constantly improvising. To make it up to you guys for the late chapter here's some art of Peter I guess?

Probably doesn't make up for it, but hey I tried. Sorry for any typos I still don't have a laptop to let me know whenever somethings wrong yet. Anyways, bye guys!