DIANA LEARNED MANY THINGS THAT NIGHT, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO: HOW TO SNEAK INTO HER GODMOTHER'S ROOM, HOW TO CLEAN BLOOD OUT OF HER SHEETS IN LESS THAN AN HOUR, AND THAT WHEN PETER PARKER BLUSHED, HE BLUSHED ALL OVER. She had one very hectic night. A night filled with near heart attacks, stubbing her toe countless times, regrets, insecurities, and a lot of silent screaming.

"Peter Parker, what happened to you?" she hissed, pulling the boy into her room, closing her window and shutting the curtains before anyone actually saw anything.

"I'm sorry, it just got really bad and I couldn't just head home and you said I could drop by if I needed help and I just—" he spun around, gripping his hair, his mask still held in his hands.

"Sit down," she whispered, pulling over her desk chair, "Was it the same person, are you being targeted, where are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, it was a different person. No, I'm not being targeted. And," he pointed to his shoulder, his leg, and his side, "They're not deep or anything, but they're not exactly paper cuts." He laughed weakly, trying to make light of the situation, but she could see him sweating and he was paler than usual.

"This is worse than last time, Peter," she hissed, "You're actually bleeding this time, the last time you—" she jumped to her feet, rubbing her face, "Okay, I'm gonna grab some towels and the stuff my aunt has, hold on."

He nodded, his breathing labored. "Take your time."

She couldn't help but scoff as she opened her door, closing it quickly. It was past midnight and Rosie was, thankfully, out of the house. That meant that all she had to worry about were Flash and Jesse.

She opened the hallway cabinet and grabbed a handful of small dishrags, opening her door and throwing them inside. Peter made a move to pick them up, but she shook her head, telling him to sit still.

Closing the door, she made her way into Rosie's room. She dove under the bed, hoping that she kept her supplies in the same place she used to. Rosie had used to work home health, going to people's houses and apartments when they couldn't regularly go to the hospital. She had quit to work full time at the hospital, but maybe she still had the supplies.

Diana nearly cried when she caught sight of the familiar clear tubs, dragging them out by their colorful lids.

She opened them all, digging out a variety of bandages and patches. She started to grab some of the ointment, but stopped, unsure of which one she should use.

She rushed into the master bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit from underneath the sink. She ran back out, forgetting to close the tubs and place them back under the bed.

She burst into her room, struggling to close the door quietly. She found Peter on her bed, his eyes closed.

"Shit, Peter," she hissed, dropping the supplies on the side of the bed, "Peter, are you okay. You awake, Peter?"

He nodded, opening his eyes, "Yeah, sorry, I just couldn't sit up any longer, I'm fine, I mean, it's not that bad, right?"

She nodded, examining the cuts past his clothes. "You're gonna need to take your clothes off, but don't worry it's not bleeding that bad. You need help?"

He swallowed thickly, wincing as he moved. He sighed and carefully reached down, tugging his sweatshirt over his head, trying not to move his hurt shoulder or side.

"I-" she started, trying to sound professional, "I'm going to need you to take off your pants as well, your cut is too high up for me to just roll it up, it'd make you bleed more, I—"

"I get it," he said, blushing. She noticed that his blush reached not only his face, but his chest as well, his entire body going red.

He sat up and started tugging down his pants. He winced, unable to move, so she tugged them down for him, careful, not to touch his leg or any part of his body, just the pants.

She reached down and grabbed the dishtowels, wrapping one around his upper leg and tying it off. He cried out softly and she shushed him, running her hand through his hair.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I have to stop the bleeding. I'm gonna do the same to your shoulder and we're just gonna press one against your side, okay?" She spoke the way she had spoken to Flash when he was hurt, whispering softly and brushing her hand through his hair.

She grabbed another towel and tied it tightly to his shoulder, then pressed another to his side, sending him an apologetic look as he bit his lip, taking a deep breaths.

"Hey, I'm sorry," she whispered.

He nodded. "It's fine. It's fine."

They waited a few minutes, until the bleeding had petered down. After the silence became unbearable, she spoke.

"During the boxing portion of P.E.," she started, "You knocked out Flash with one hit, that was because of your abilities?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I can sense danger or when someone's gonna attack me. Doesn't mean I can beat them easily, but with Flash, I mean, it's just one on one. I'm also stronger, so, yeah, that's why I knocked him out."

She hummed, remembering how he had freaked in the nurse's office, shocked that Peter had been able to do that. "Does he mess with you anymore? Physically?"

He shook his head. "No. Not after that incident, but he still says stuff, you know?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He's been acting different. After that night, he's just been studying non-stop, it's kind of worrying me."

Peter tilted his head. "You're worried that he's gonna get smarter?"

She laughed softly. "No, that's he's gonna overwork himself. Flash does that, he knows when to stop, but he won't. He'll work himself to death if he could, he needs to occupy his mind, it's...bad. Anyways, uh, let's check the bleeding."

She pulled the dishtowel away from his side. It had gone down significantly. She started to reach for the bandage, then remembered the steps.

Cursing, she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She tried not to make any noise as she grabbed a few water bottles, wincing as one fell loudly. She picked it up and scurried into her room, locking the door behind her.

"Flash is gonna wake up, find me here, and kill me," Peter hissed, "He heard that and he's gonna find me here. Oh God—"

"Breathe, she whispered, pouring the water onto one of the dishrags and cleaning out his wound.

He hissed softly, but said nothing, gripping her bedsheets. "So," he said, conversationally, "You do this often, doc?"

She glanced up, feeling his forehead. "You getting dizzy on me?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Humor me, I need to make a joke of this or I won't handle well."

She scoffed, reaching into the first aid kit and taking out the antiseptic. She applied it over his wound and grabbed the bandage patch. She had always thought it reminded her of a sticker and said as much as she placed it over his side wound.

He laughed as she removed the tie over his leg. "A sticker? Aren't all band-aids stickers?"

She cleaned out his leg wound, shrugging. "I mean, that thing doesn't really count as a band-aid, but I guess? I mean...stickers usually have some color to it or theme."

"Do you not have the monster band-aids?" he asked, wincing as she applied the antiseptic, "I mean, that's all we ever had in the house. Superhero ones, monster ones. We never had the plain ones in the house."

She grinned. "I'm sure your uncle loved that." She stopped after the words left her mouth, her eyes widening. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Peter was laughing.

"May always made him wear the Dora ones, it was great! I went to work with him once and his buddies asked why I got to wear superhero ones, but he had to wear Dora. After that, I wore Dora ones to prove a point to them." He trailed off, his eyes distant, probably thinking about whatever he and his uncle would do together for fun.

She looked back down, not wanting to see the light go out of his eyes when he remembered. She grabbed a bandage and wrapped it around his leg wound, forcing herself not to look up at him. She knew what it was like, she did not want to see herself in him.

"Huh," he said softly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, moving to remove the dishtowel from his shoulder.

"Nothing," he replied, "It's just—I didn't think you actually owned the flag, I thought Flash was joking."

She turned to see what he was looking out and snorted. It was her Viva La Pluto flag. She thought back to their little dispute back at the museum all those months ago and turned back to Peter, grinning.

"Well," she started, cleaning out his last wound, "Considering I have patched you up twice now..."

He shook his head slowly. "No."

She fought back a grin, raising her eyebrows. "Say it."

He pursed his lips, trying not to smile. "Never."

"Say Pluto is a planet."

"Screw you."

"Seriously? You had to change the one word—Peter, you can't desecrate a meme like that, you have no right."

"I'm bleeding on your bed and you're talking to me about memes?"

She jumped to her feet, laughing. She ran a hand through her hair, grinning down at Peter who was laughing as well, shaking his head at her. For some inexplicable reason, she felt a lot happier than she usually did, as if she didn't have any worries. It was a free feeling. "Is this how you get when you're behind that mask?"

He nodded, eyes bright, like he understood the feeling completely, then gestured to himself. "That and when I'm almost completely naked. Everything's bare or everything's hidden. Go big or go home, I guess."

She choked back a laugh and quickly applied the antispetic and wrapped a bandage around his shoulder. "You know the procedure, come over if you notice any infections, I'll figure out what to do."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wait, are you saying that you're just going with the flow right now?"

She shrugged. "Yeah?"

He fell back on the bed, scoffing. "Wow, doc. That's safe."

She patted his unwounded shoulder. "Sorry, Bugs, I'm the best you've got so far. That's not saying much."

"You're not wrong there. But, thanks, doc." he joked, carefully pulling his suit back on.

She waved him off. "Of course, Peter. Listen, be safe out there, yeah? You need to borrow my metrocard, I think you can still catch a train."

He shook his head. "I'm alright, I'll swing home. Thank you for all your help, Diana, I'll try not to show up here again."

She hummed. "Anytime, Peter, seriously. I'd rather you come here than go home bleeding. Thank you for trusting me."

He smiled and tried to stand, wincing. "Uh...do you have any Advil? And, um, could I stay here for a bit? Just until it stops hurting so much?"

"Of course. Just hold on, I'll get you some." She unlocked her door and got the medicine from the pantry, grabbing another water bottle for him to drink. She glanced up at the clock, surprised to see how late it had gotten.

She slid back into her room, raising an eyebrow at Peter who had moved to the top of the bed and was reading one of the books she had left on her beside table. She handed him the two bottles, glancing at the cover.

"I forgot that you're mostly into, uh, English and stuff, doc," he said, setting the book down to take the medicine, "I forget what they're called. There's the sciences and..."

"The humanities," she finished, sitting on the foot of the bed, "Yeah, I find it weird that Flash and I were enrolled into Midtown when we have no real interest in science, but, I mean, it's a good school."

Peter nodded. "It really is." He glanced up, tilting his head. "When's your aunt getting back. Wait, she's your godmother, right?"

She nodded, glancing at the clock. "Yeah, but I call her my aunt and, if I'm right, she should be here right about now. It's alright, she doesn't usually check up on us, she's afraid we'll wake up."

"Okay," he said, sighing, "Because you have blood all over those dishtowels and on your bed. There's also me, so..."

She started to laugh and explain that she would clean it all up the next day, but then she remembered. The tubs in Rosie's room. She had left them open.

"Peter, I will be right back, but I have to keep the door unlocked, can you hide in the closet for a second?" She stood up slowly, her palms sweating.

He nodded, wide eyed, standing slowly, limping towards the closet, squeezing inside. It was a good thing he was small, she thought to herself.

She ran out of her room, closing the door softly behind her. She caught sight of her godmother's opened door and the tubs still open by the bed. As she stepped into the room, she heard the sound of the front door opening.

She closed the door quickly and slid on the floor, wincing as the carpet burned her skin. She closed up the tubs and shoved them under the bed. She raced over to the bathroom, shutting off the lights and closing the door.

She heard Rosie's footsteps approaching and, panicking, Diana rolled underneath the bed, covering her head with her arms, wincing as the carpet burned her elbows.

Rosie opened the door and stepped inside, practically jumping onto the bed. Diana tried not to make a sound, startling as the bed slightly caved above her.

She sat there for what felt like hours, but was, in reality, only a few minutes. After a few minutes, she heard Rosie stand up and walk to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Diana hit her head against the bed frame as she got out from underneath, fighting back a shout. She opened and closed the door as quietly as she could, nearly throwing herself into her room, locking it behind her.

"Peter?" she whispered, opening the closet door.

"What's up, doc?" he grinned, pressed between the closet wall and one of the plastic clothes drawers.

She held out her hand and pulled him to his feet and out of the closet. "You good there, Bugs?"

He nodded, stretching his arms. "I'm good. I think I can go swinging home now. Hopefully May didn't wake up to check on me. You need help cleaning this up?" He gestured to the bloody sheets and dishtowels.

She opened her mouth to decline, but stopped. "Uh...you gotta go home now?"

He moved towards her bed and pulled off her sheets and comforter, bundling them up in his arms. "Let's go, doc, I don't wanna get caught."

She grabbed the dishtowels and her wallet, motioning for him to follow her out of her room. She took the comforter from his arms, watching as he limped after her.

She grabbed the keys and opened the door, Peter sneaking out into the hallway. She closed the door softly behind them and the two made their way to the laundry room, Peter tripping over the sheets a few times.

"Stealth isn't your strong suit, is it?" she snickered as she opened the washer and shoved the bloody items inside.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm actually a very stealthy person, thanks." He watched as she reached up to grab the detergent someone always left on the top rack, turning on the machine.

"I'll wait with you," he said, jumping up onto one of the machines, "I'll need you to let me out of your window anyways, so."

She smiled. "Thanks, Bugs."

He smiled back. "Anytime, doc."

º º º º º

That morning, Diana didn't want to get up. It wasn't just because she was tired, no, it was because she had that feeling. The feeling that made it so she didn't even want to move. The same one that kept her from laughing as much as she wanted or enjoy the things she wanted.

"Diana, sweetie," Rosie whispered, brushing a hand through her hair, "Why did you take some of my bandages from my room?"

Diana looked down and saw the bandage wraps that she had forgotten to hide that night. She sighed, closing her eyes. "Because I wanted to. Sorry."

"It's alright," Rosie whispered. "Are you in a mood again?"

Diana sniffed, nodding. She never liked calling it a mood, but it was one of the only ways she could describe it.

"You can stay home. Just today, though," she said, already pulling out her phone to call the school.

"Thanks, Aunt Rosie," Diana whispered. She meant it.

"Just rest, honey. Doctor's orders."

Despite the feeling, Diana still smiled.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

WRITTEN: JUNE 9, 2017/PUBLISHED: JUNE 14, 2017

Yes, I made Diana a meme lord, I just thought that the contrast between her at night vs. her in the morning would show something. She's so happy in the morning yet depression. She can be depressed and happy, she can be depressed and sad, she has depression.

The meme she referenced that time is the one where you're being interrogated by the government. It's like: "say it." "never." "say [insert something the author disagrees with]" *spits in face* "fuck you" It's hard to explain.

Peter did, in fact, knock out Flash Thompson during a boxing portion of P.E. and as a result Flash stopped being physical, but he was still harsh in his taunting (moves closer to the Flash from Homecoming)

I think that's all I have to say so...thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!