Early in the morning, so early that the sun hadn't even risen yet, Violet jolted awake on the couch, sweat making her hoodie stick to her skin. She was unable to drift into sleep without the moments of the former night plaguing her dreams, and she couldn't even wake up without being reminded of it. Pain still ached dully on her side, and she realized quickly that she wouldn't survive this recovery without a whole pharmacy of pain pills.

Sitting up on the couch, she gently pushed off the thin cover that she assumed Peter had covered her up with when she had fallen asleep. Like everything she had attempted in the past twenty-four hours, it didn't go right, and the blanket tumbled off the couch and landed into a tight pile on the floor. She simply sighed before glancing at the coffee table beside her, noticing that it was now adorned with a pile of clothes. Slowly reaching over, she grabbed the shirt on it, unfolding it and glancing at it.

A cheesy slogan was printed across the front in bold letters, and she snorted. The smell that wafted off of it made her realize it belonged to his Aunt May, and when she grabbed the sweatpants, she realized that they, too, belonged to her, and she raised her eyebrows. Was she really the same size as his aunt?

Wanting to not feel so sticky and hot, she reached for the bottom of her hoodie to pull it off, only for the movement to send a burning-hot pain up her side, causing her to grunt and grab at her side, fingers touching her bandage loosely. She attempted a couple more times, but was met with the same end result - being completely unable to raise her arms without wishing she had just been fully shot and had her hoodie cut off by scissors.

The idea made a lightbulb go off in her head. Violet brought herself to her feet slowly, taking a few steps forward. The lack of dinner or any type of nutrition and the shock her body had been through made her wobbly on her feet, and she grabbed onto the wall to steady herself. After way too many agonizing steps, she was finally in the kitchen, and she didn't even think about turning on a light. The last thing she needed to do was wake up Peter's aunt and uncle after causing them so much hassle that night.

Assuming that all normal families held scissors in their kitchen, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, turning on the flashlight and starting to go through the drawers. Once she saw something that resembled the handle of scissors, she reached in to grab them, only to mistakenly yank it out and send spoons clattering to the floor. Immediately, she froze, as if staying still would erase the ruckus she had just made. When she assumed everything was good, she went back for the scissors, gleefully holding them up when she realized that's, in fact, what they were.

"What are you doing?" A voice mumbled from the entrance, and she turned to the sound, looking like a deer in headlights.

As if it explained everything, the girl held up the scissors in her hand, watching as Peter's sleepy face moved from one of confusion to one of complete and utter disappointment. "I can't get my hoodie off. So I'm going to cut it off."

He stepped forward a lot quicker than she could even think about stepping away, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling the scissors out of them, setting them on the counter. "Are you stupid?" He whispered, glancing down at her with his eyebrows furrowed. "Did lead sink into your brain?" The back of his hand pressed against her forehead, his cool skin feeling great against the thin layer of sweat still laying there. "Violet, you're warm. And sweaty. Gross."

"Yeah, that's why I wanted the hoodie off, genius. It's nothing. I just had a bad dream and was sleeping under a blanket in a hoodie. I'm fine." She shook her head to push his hand away, leaning against the counter to try and settle the pain in her side.

Peter stared down at her for a second before shaking his head, turning and walking out. Just as she thought he had gone back to bed and left her to suffer, he came back into the kitchen with the clothes he had set out draped over his shoulder. "C'mon, let's get upstairs so we don't wake them up," he mumbled, crouching down and slipping his arms beneath her legs and behind her back and picking her up again, just as effortlessly as he had the night before.

She wasn't able to struggle out of his grip, and she silently yelled multiple profanities at him as he stepped slowly up the stairs, trying his best not to rock her and hurt her side, despite it being in pain no matter what. As soon as they were up the stairs, Peter gently kicked open the door to his bedroom, carrying her inside before shutting the door, setting her down to sit on his bed. He brought the clothes on his shoulder down, throwing it beside her on the mattress before stepping back to press a button on his desk, causing the door to automatically lock.

"Of course you would have one of those," she grumbled, still quite pissed that he had carried her like a sack of potatoes instead of optimistically offering to let her climb the stairs.

He rolled his eyes before stepping forward, holding out his hands. "Stand up. Let me help you get that hoodie off," he demanded, glancing right into her eyes.

She raised her eyebrows, giving him a small laugh. "Yeah, you're funny, Boy Wonder. No way. Just invent something that will take off my hoodie for me," she snorted, gesturing to the little doohickey that locked his door.

"I already did. My hands. Come on. The faster we do this, the faster you're not so sweaty and we can both get to bed," he pressed, and it was then that she saw how exhausted Peter looked. Her lips pressed together in guilt that she had been the reason for his worrying that night and, with a sigh to make her seem reluctant, she finally got to her feet, wobbling with a wince.

He placed his hands on his elbows to steady her before raising his eyebrows. When she nodded, he grabbed the bottom of her hoodie. "Hold your arms out in front of you," he murmured gently, and when she complied, he lifted the thick material up higher, taking it off over her arms agonizingly slow to keep from hurting her. Violet closed her eyes when his knuckles accidentally brushed over the skin that exposed itself due to her tank-top getting caught on her hoodie, her cheeks dusting in a foreign blush that she covered up the minute the hoodie slipped off of her arms. Quickly, she reached down to pull down her tank-top, giving a big sigh at the feeling of not being so closed in by the fabric.

"Thank you," she mumbled bashfully, and he gave her a small smile before grabbing the shirt off the bed.

"Come on. One last time. My aunt will freak out if she sees us with you just in a tank-top," he teased, bunching up the shirt so that it was mostly just the little head hole left. Despite her groan of protest, he slipped it over her head, before managing to get her arms through the sleeves and letting it fall over her body. "See, don't you feel better?"

In response, she gave him a hefty punch to the arm, causing him to laugh. "Fuck off, Peter Parker. Go to bed. I got this." With a couple of painful steps, she made her way to the door, just for her elbow to be grabbed and her to be spun around. "Oh, for fucks' sake!" She cursed, causing him to raise his hand to shush her. "Are you gonna help me take off my pants, too, you teenage boy?"

He crinkled up his nose at her, causing her to scoff, before he gestured to his bed, still messy from his slumber. "You. Here. No going downstairs for you, sailor. I don't feel like carrying you again."

"Good! I don't feel like you carrying me! I will walk!" She chirped, turning to make her way towards the door again. Once again, she was grabbed back, and this time he held on as he stared down at her, just enough to make her falter. "Fine. Whore. You win. But we are not spooning, and if you end up falling off the bed, that's not my damn fault," she snapped, taking a couple steps back to the bed before crawling on to the sheets, trying to ignore how cold they were and how good it felt.

Violet scooted closer to the wall, laying on the side that wasn't sending constant pulses to her head telling her to hurt. The pain was red-hot always, burning dully when she wasn't straining herself, firing up red-hot when she even slightly moved and tensed the muscles on that side of her body. It was more annoying than anything. Almost made her wish she had never even gone out that night.

But hey, now her and Peter got to have a sleepover! Yippee!

The boy turned off the lights before crawling into bed next to her, staying a good couple of inches away from her, not wanting to risk accidentally rolling on her in his sleep and causing her more pain and trouble than she already had. He curled up on his side, facing the opposite wall than the one she was facing, so that they were back to back. Body heat radiated off of him, still lingering from when it had first accumulated, less than an hour ago when he had been sleeping off the night soundly, and it made Violet squirm a little at the thought of how she had been the one to waken him and keep him up.

It wasn't long before Peter fell back to sleep, the sound of his deep breathing the only noise in the room. Every once in a while, you could hear the sound of a car speeding it's way down the road, a small hum of an engine and maybe the screech of tires. She rolled on her back to listen to the noises, the throbbing in her side and the thoughts in her head evaporating all of the will to sleep from her body, despite her feet aching and her body feeling nothing but exhausted.

She glanced over at the sleeping boy next to her. His face was just barely recognizable in the dark room, only the moonlight from the windows coming from the north wall illuminating his features. Moonlight didn't do much in a city like Queens, and one of the windows was covered with a thin curtain that blocked most of it, but it was just enough to make shadow cover the parts of his face that were out of the way of the light.

Violet took a glance around the room. She hadn't had time to admire it the first time she stepped in, especially since she had been immediately rallied into stripping her hoodie and then sleeping.

It was messy, which is usually normal for a boy his age, and yet she, for some reason, had expected Peter to be clean. Only one point wrong. Posters and polaroids seemed to cover every inch of wall space, most notably an Albert Einstein poster on the door to his bathroom. She couldn't make out what was in the polaroids all taped right above his computer, and she made a mental note to check them out in the morning. Pictures were a great way to see into somebody's life, and how they took them and what they took pictures of said a lot more than they ever could.

The girl was still glancing around when her eyes grew heavy, and she closed them with only one thought in her mind. She really wanted to get to know Peter Parker. More than she already had.

Next thing she knew, light was beaming through the thin shade of her eyelids, and she reluctantly pulled them open. Sure enough, it was day time, sunlight annoyingly streaming through the two windows. Peter was somehow still asleep, his snores a lot louder now that he was in a deep sleep. She sat up with a stifled groan, her body feeling even worse than when she had gone to sleep the night before, and she took a glance at the clock on the wall.

"Peter. Peter. Peter Parker. No, you're not dreaming, there is a lady in your bed. Wake up, it's time for school, idiot. Or time for us to get up for school. I will shove your heavy ass off of this bed, you piece of shit," she insulted until he finally raised a hand for her to cool it, raising it to his face to rub his eyes. "Ah, there Sleeping Beauty is!"

He groaned, rolling on his back and slowly peeling open his dark eyes to look at her. "Who do you think you are?" It came out as a teasing question, his voice still raspy with sleep, but instead of fawning over it, she simply nudged him again.

"The queen," she joked. "Come on. Time for school. Can't take your perfect attendance and throw it away, can you? Let me answer that for you. Not because of me!" She nudged him again, before grinning in success when he sat up, his red-and-white comforter falling off of his torso as he ran both hands through his unruly hair.

Peter sighed heavily. "The queen of being a pain in my butt. You're lucky I can smell Aunt May's cooking, or I'd kick you out and head right back to bed." He pushed the comforter the rest of the way off of his body, subsequently taking it off of Violet's legs as well. Slowly but surely, he pulled his legs off of the bed and let his feet touch the ground, pulling himself up into a standing position before turning around and holding out his hand. "C'mon, Miss Priss. You're grumpy, you need food."

She gave him an icy look before letting her hand fall into his, gripping his fingers as she very slowly followed his moments from just a bit before, wincing at the stab in her side. When she got to her feet, she laid a hand on his bicep to steady herself, before giving him a nod. "Let's get out of here, Superman. But none of that carrying me shenanigan. I can manage. I got this." Like it would convince him, she gave him a smile, but it didn't shake the nervous look that crossed his face.

"Fine. Come on. With you every step of the way." He led her out into the hallway before towards the steps, stepping down one of them before looking back up at her.

Violet held on to his arm still with her left hand, the right one grabbing onto the railing as she took one step down. The stretch of her leg reaching for the step made her side fire up in an agonizing way that made her hiss through her teeth, not wanting Peter to worry about her too much. Which failed, seeing as he simply stepped closer to her, his eyebrows furrowing. She held up a hand so that he'd back off, before continuing her slow trek down the stairs.

When they finally got to the bottom, Peter wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. "See, I knew you could do it!" He joked with a large, cheesy grin, causing her to shrug off his arm and smack him as hard as she could manage.

"Fuck you, whore," she mumbled beneath her breath as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, a smile pulling at her lips at the sight of Aunt May. The older woman was rustling around the kitchen, setting out cooked food on the little island in the middle and getting out plates and utensils to eat with.

At the sound of their footsteps, she looked up, beaming. Aunt May was as bright as the sunlight streaming through the blinds behind her, and her motherly presence made Violet want to curl herself up in a ball on the floor, sobbing about all of her issues. "Peter, Violet! Nice of you two to finally make it," she pointedly remarked, furrowing her eyebrows before raising them accusingly.

Peter laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck before stepping forward, grabbing the empty plates from her hands and moving to set the table. "Nothing happened, Aunt May. Sleeping. I'm a good boy, you know," he chuckled lowly, placing a plate at each spot at the table. There were four chairs, so just enough to include Violet with him, his aunt and his uncle.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on, go eat breakfast, you two. How are you feeling, dear?" She questioned, looking at Violet. Creases formed at the corner of Aunt May's eyes as she recalled the state the young girl had come into her house in, and it made Violet's lips twitch at the corners at her concerns.

She threw an enthusiastic thumb up. "As good as I could be!" She cheerily responded, right before stepping forward to look at the food on the island. "This looks great, Mrs. Parker. I haven't had a home-cooked meal in so long," she revealed, trying not to let her heartache about the subject show as she grabbed the bowl of scrambled eyes and the plate of bacon. She carried it to the table, setting it in the middle of the table before taking a seat next to Peter, secretly hoping she didn't accidentally steal Uncle Ben or Aunt May's spot.

Speaking of the subject, she hadn't seen the white-haired man that morning. "Where's Mr. Parker?"

"Oh, please, call me Aunt May, and him Uncle Ben. It sounds weird being so formal," she huffed, wiping off her hands on her apron before pulling it off. "Ben's at work, he'll be home in the afternoon. And I do have to get to my shift, too, so I will leave you guys to it. Make sure to do your dishes, Peter," she reminded him, taking a few steps forward before leaning over to kiss his head. "It'll be hard to make dinner in time with other chores to do."

As she made a break for the door, Peter leaned over in his seat. "Did you even eat? Aunt May! Did you eat?" He called after her, only to be responded with by the slam of the front door and the clink of the lock. His eyes rolled before he glanced at Violet, holding up a serving spoon in defeat. "That woman is gonna make my hair go grey, like hers."

"Or maybe you'll go white like Uncle Ben," she chided, grabbing a few pieces of bacon off of the plate and setting them on her own. "I think you'd look good with white hair, but I will miss your luscious brown locks." It was teasing, and she tilted her head, as if imagining him with white hair.

After they silently loaded their plates with delicious food, Violet waved her fork in the air as she spoke again. "You know, I find it odd that they didn't bombarde me with questions about how I managed to get shot and end up on their couch. Or about my mother. Or literally anything. It's kind of concerning. What other strays do you bring to their door?"

He chuckled, chewing the bite he had in his mouth before responding. "They're very understanding people. My dad was never the blabbering type, always secretive, so I guess they just got used to dealing with things they couldn't ask questions about. Plus, they're just glad you're okay. Just like I am."

The bright-haired girl reached over to pinch at his cheek, resulting in him swatting her hand away. "Well, aren't you sweet?" She cooed, and he rolled his eyes. "Hey! I'm being nice to you, whore!"

Peter took another bite of his food before narrowing his eyes. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What? Whore?"

"Yes."

"Because you smell like one. Really, Parker, easy up on the cologne, it would do wonders," she joked, grinning at him before grabbing her now-empty plate. "Come on, let's get dishes done so we can go to school."

He snorted. "We? I'm going to school. You're going home. You're sick. It's flu season, you know," he winked.

Violet gaped at him before shaking her head. "No. Hell, no. I'm going to school. Do you know what happens if I skip? They call my mom."

"And you tell your mom that you're sick, and make her believe it. You're not going to school, Violet, you can barely make it down the stairs. I mean it." His voice was firm, and her ears burned hot in embarrassment at the idea that she couldn't do much because of a stupid mistake she made.

"I'm not a kid, Peter, I can take care of myself. I don't need you telling me what I can and cannot do," she snapped, setting her plate down. She could only properly argue with her hands free.

"You do when you're too stubborn to know the difference, Violet," he shot back, although he didn't seem irritated at all. Just stubborn. "I'm walking you home and I'm going to school while you stay there and rest. You can go to school tomorrow if you feel better. I'll grab your work and bring it to you, and I'll walk you through everything. Please, Vi. I don't want you hurting."

She pressed her lips together at the idea of him carrying her health on his shoulders, about causing him more stress than she already had, and because of that, she nodded. "Fine. But I'm back tomorrow," she added, raising a brow, daring him to object.

He gave a small sigh before smiling at her. "And I'll miss you all today. Come on. Let's get these dishes done so I can get you home and my ass to school."