Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter pads barefoot into the compound kitchen, moving straight for the refrigerator. Its hum leads the way as a sweet, sweet promise, of satisfying his never-ending hunger. A side effect of his super cool Spider abilities.

Pulling the door open, the bright glow from the fridge is the only light in the kitchen and living room combination. His stomach growls loudly, as he scans the newly stocked fridge for something to eat. Peter sh’s it, “Just wait a minute, stomach. I’ll find something”. For a moment he considers grabbing the leftover pizza from the lab lunch but stops. That, Peter decides, is going to act as a better breakfast than a midnight snack.

The door shuts again with a small thud, leaving the kitchen in darkness. His eyes take a moment just before Peter moves on to the cupboards.

Ever since homecoming Mr. Stark and Peter had hung out a lot more. It’s May’s doing. One loud phone conversation with Mr. Stark, after her finding out about Spider-man, had meant the internship became a real, internship. It was Mr. Stark’s idea with sleepovers and fully stocked cupboards and kitchen shelves. A collection of anything a teenager could ever want, plus a few add-ons because Peter isn’t just a growing teen. He is also an enhanced individual with an apatite to rivel Captain America.

From the top shelf, Peter pulls a pack of instant ramen - NongShim Shin Black Noodle Soup because Mr. Stark refuses to back down on quality. Carefully he crumbles the pack into a bowl and starts the long process of adding water to the kettle to bring it to a boil.

He leans against the counter, scrolling through his phone, waiting. Every few seconds he looks from his, Ned’s, and MJ’s chat group, and over to the water. The time ticks slowly, and Peter’s stomach growls again. Louder this time, echoing through the kitchen.

Sighing, Peter returns to the cupboard, giving in to the hunger. Considering his options – peanut butter with crunch straight from the jar, a half-eaten bag of chips, and twinkies (the last once are Mr. Starks) – he makes his choice. Chip’s it is. He keeps scrolling as he shuffles chips into his mouth, not stopping before the water finally alerts him to his noodle bowl.

Pouring the boiling water over the noodles, they become soft in a matter of moments.

Scuffling the first mouthful of noodle strings down, he is happily reminded of home. May isn’t a bad cook, per se. Still, Peter lingers in the cupboards late at night for noodles – the cheap ones – at home. It’s the same easy-meal-taste that hits his tough now. Spicy filling his body with heat.

NongShim Shin Black Noodle Soup: 280 calories. Most of a half bag of chips: 215 calories. Peter slowly adds up his food intake, attempting to figure out if it will satisfy his hunger for an extended period of time. He hates these late-night snack breaks in his sleep, but can never seem to get enough down at dinner time to keep full.

Some call him lucky, Mr. eat-anything-you-want-and-stay-thin. And sure, for a while, Peter had found that cool too, until it become inconvenient.

Returning to the fridge Peter pulls a high-calory drink out, pushing a straw through the cap, and takes in the deep chocolaty taste. That should keep him going till breakfast.

“Hey kid, pass me the chips”.

“Of course”, Peter does so, without much thought reading another of Ned’s memes.

He swallows the last mouthful of noodles, before discarding the bowl into the sink for somebody else to deal with. Something he’d never do where May could see it. Then slowly starts making his way out of the kitchen again.

Only then does he notice the humming of his Spidey-sense. A pleasant sound alerting him to another person’s presence, but no actual danger. Peter spins on him heals all the same, enhanced senses allowing him to spot the person even in the darkness. A thin figure sits on one of the bar stools, crunching chips and minding their own business.

As if sensing Peter’s eyes on them, they shift, looking up. Greens eyes meet Peter’s brown, his Spidey-sense sending out a panicked screaming signal from pure shock, and Peter jumps.

Sticking to the ceiling is pure instinct, happening involuntarily. It gives him a clear advantage against any attacker unless they have a gun – or a bow, Peter thinks to himself, reminded of Clint’s ability to always hit his target. Hawkeye makes it look easy.

The dark figure chuckles lightly, crumbling over the table. Peter takes in the stranger, observing each movement. Slim, not thin, female, Pete notices. Likely agile. Long hair hangs over her shoulder casually. She waves a hand carefully in the air, alerting Friday to turn on the lights. And so, the AI does.

"Ha! I knew it. Bucky owes me $15” the figure – Natasha, Peter realizes now – exclaims, getting to her feet. She strides over with a smile on her lips, carefully navigating around the spilled drink that’s slowly staining the floor, looking up at him.

Peter feels utterly exposed. He’s spent enough time around the Avengers, to know personal stuff about them. Clint has a secret family; Bruce is very protective of his lab gear and follows every lab rule down to the smallest detail. Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barns are in a relationship, well… if they’d care to make it official that is. And Natasha, despite being a cold-hearted ex-assassin, has a sister. Ex assassin sister, technically, but who cares about the details?

But the Avengers don’t know Peter’s secret identity. Mr. Stark has kept them off his back since their very first meeting, and while they know he’s young, they don’t know how young.

Until now.

Peter sucks in a deep breath, attempting to make his voice deeper, but it cracks awkwardly instead. "You can't tell anyone!". Yeah, great, Parker. She’ll totally listen to that. Might as well hand over the mask now.

Natasha just tilts her head, a smirk crossing her lips. There’s something playful in her green eyes. "Are you going to give me $15?" she asks, not unkindly.

Her words don’t truly register at first, but now… Peter realizes. The Avengers are betting on his identity? They’re actively trying to figure out who he is?

Biting down hard against his lip, Peter can taste the blood spilling from his lip. Natasha had known, walking into the compound kitchen, exactly who Peter was. She doesn’t even seem surprised, when Peter stares down at her, worry on his face. Super spies… Peter hates them.

When he says nothing, Natasha pulls a chair over and sits. “So…” Natasha starts, “You’re Stark’s intern. Right?”.

Peter shrugs, crossing his legs against the ceiling, “I guess?”.

“You guess?” Natasha raises an eyebrow. She looks almost judgmentally at him as if to ask if he just tried lying to a super spy. Who clearly, already knows all the answers.

“What does it matter to you?” Peter asks, feeling small under Natasha’s gaze, “And you’re a spy, can’t you just, spy all the answers?”.

She crosses her arms, leaning back in the chair. It balances on the back legs. “Would you prefer that?”.

Pondering for a moment, Peter shakes his head. He’d prefer that the Avengers knew nothing at all about his identity and life outside of the mask, but that game has already been lost. The next best thing is to control what information they’re given. Favorite cereal? That can’t possibly put anyone in danger. Home address? Welp, that’s probably a bad idea.

Or maybe the best cause of action to crawl away, get Mr. Stark to drug the spy with something. Make it look like one big fever dream.

“Bucky is trustworthy. Keeps secrets better than Cap” Natasha starts talking. Not to Peter directly, just casually sharing as she looks down into her phone screen. “Steve once let it slips what we were getting Stark for Christmas, people hated him for weeks. If that doesn’t help, then remember that Bucky used to hide too. So did I. People make mistakes, they do stuff. It’s taken out of their control, or they’re pushed beyond the edge. We don’t judge you for wearing a mask, Peter”.

Ah, Peter nods, so she does know his name. Probably school too, and best friends.

Peter lowers himself carefully to the ground, Spidey-sense quieting. Natasha watches from the corner of her eyes but does her best not to stare. Peter appreciates the gesture for what it is. A chance to pretend this conversation never took place.

But he’s gotten this far. Why not go all the way now that they’re both here? Better her knowing, then someone like… like… like Flash Thompson.

“It’s not official” Peter states, taking the chair nest to Natasha. She studies him with a confused look. “The internship” Peter elaborates, “Isn’t official. Mr. Stark keeps saying we need to sign the papers, make it real. But you know how he is, one second, he’s working on the next Iron man suit, that next he’s standing hands deep in some car engine”.

The man changes activities as often as a teenager changes apps on their phone. Peter just has to try and hold on while it happens, taking any and all of the information he can from the moment.

“That sounds like Tony”.

“So…” Peter looks at her, shyly. “The Avengers are, um, b-betting on my identity?”.

Natasha shrugs, adjusting the top of her tank top. “Not identity exactly, at least most doesn’t put names on” she explains. Oh. “It’s more a guess his age, and he sounds like somebody who’s blond”.

Peter, blond? That’s one he hasn’t heard before. But now that it’s out into the wild, he can’t help but wonder, if maybe he should try it.

“But Bucky owes you $15” he reminds. If not a name, then what had Natasha figured out that Bucky didn’t believe? Had she guessed Peter’s age of 16? His connection to Stark? What did the spy know, that a super soldier didn’t?

“Bucky” she states, “Is completely convinced, that the suit does all the work. The sticking, the strength. The… webs?” That Tony wanted to outdo his dad and therefore created a super suit that anyone can wear”.

Peter tiles his head in confusion. Natasha’s face says nothing, as he chews a handful of chips slowly. That… wasn’t what he’d expected. Super soldiers had super senses too, so why would Bucky think that the suit did all the work? Wasn’t it obvious, that the suit was nothing more than a glorified piece of fabric, that wouldn’t be able to stop a bullet if it came to that?

Maybe you had to wear the suit to truly understand its limitations. Mr. Stark had done awesome work, and Peter loved it, but he knew to back off when a robber pointed a gun at him.

Well… he knew he should. He didn’t always, do it. But that didn’t really matter, cause Spidey-sense. A single web could stop the bullet before it even left the gun. Peter had nothing to fear. But the Avengers didn’t know that.

His Spidey-sense was a powerful tool, but it didn’t usually work around people he trusted. Unless he was tired of being off guard, like tonight.

Lacking anything better to say, Peter just shrugs. “Well, the web isn’t me”.

“Stop downplaying yourself, Spidey. It’s a bad habit” Natasha bits out, “Those webs are cool, and we both know you created them. It’s impressive, honestly. So, start acting like it”.

He can practically feel his cheeks blush, “N-no. I’m serious. I don’t make the webs… in my body, you know”.

“Nerd” Natasha snorts, “Stark told me about the chemistry behind it. Though, you need more to convince Sam. You know, he thinks it comes out your wrist” Natasha shivers, “Worse, he thinks it comes out of less… useful places”. She gestures to the point between Peter’s legs, faces cringing and just as red as Peter’s.

Falling into conversation with Black Widow, outside of superhero suits, is surprisingly easy. The casual chatter lasts for another hour. Laughter and jokes, and life is shared between the heroes. Tips and tricks for fighting, for winning, for losing. They talk about the rough nights, where things fall to pieces, and they talk about the good nights where the team comes together to celebrate afterward. They talk about injuries, big and small.

It's nice, to talk to someone who relates to Peter’s struggles like this.                    

Their stories are vastly different, coming from very different places in life. But they’re also similar in ways Peter hadn’t been aware of before. A shared sense of responsibility. Hypothetical blood that covers their hands, that has pushed them to make a change. Both to themselves, but also to the world.

When Peter and Natasha finally part, he’s completely forgotten about the fact that she knows. His secret identity is a lot less secret. But he trusts her. She said she wouldn’t tell anyone, so of course, she wouldn’t.

He pads into his compound room, falling against the softness of his bed. Spider-man sheets star up at him with white lens eyes. Tiredness pulls him under in a matter of moments.

Chapter Text

Tower.

Get to the tower.

Tower, tower, tower.

Peter swings through the city, the best and fastest he can despite injuries. A sharp stabbing pain shoots up through his side, and us into his arm and shoulder. Every muscle in his body tenses and Peter is forced to breathe through the pain. Deep breath. Get to the tower.

It had been a pretty causal patrol. Saving a few cats and helping a handful of old ladies carry their groceries home. He’d been ready to go home, already on his way back to his apartment block, when something below had caught his attention.

A young girl, maybe 13 or 14, had been pushed up into a corner by a masked man. The man was much older than the girl, his large build reminded Peter more of a super-solider like Steve than an ordinary man. His hands were grasping at the young girl’s body, pinning her against a wall, in the opening of an ally.

It was the type of thing that made Peter wonder how the world could be so bad.

He’d stepped in, landing quietly behind a creep. “Have you ever heard about consent?” Peter shot out, together with a web towards the man’s lost hand.

“Spider-man” the man didn’t sound surprised, shifting his focus onto Peter. In moments the girl was forgotten, and Spider-man nodded from her to the exit of the ally. Wide eyed, tears rolling down her cheeks, she disappears out onto the street. Into safety.

You’ll be safe at the tower. Tower. Get to the fucking tower.

The creep had towered over Peter. He was both much taller and much more muscular than Peter himself, but in a world with enhanced individuals, that wasn’t necessarily a factor that mattered. Spider-man himself had taken down pro fighters in a rink, back when he was ‘The Spider’, trying to earn easy money.

Before Ben had been killed, because of Peter’s lack of care. It had taught him a lot of very important things. Things he still took with him.

No matter what Peter did, Spider-man or otherwise, he couldn’t put the people he cared about in danger. Never again.

They’d slide easily into hand-to-hand combat. Throwing punches back and forth. Peter had taken great care to pull his punches, throwing jokes and quips out into the air, rather than bullets and pain. A few flips and a good web later, he’d practically won. Ready to call the cops to pick up tonight’s idiots, who thought going against the friendly neighborhood Spider-man was a good idea.

Karan had been up in the HUD, already calling when his Spidey-sense had reacted. Just a second too late, Peter flipped out of the bullet’s path. The creep had managed to reach a gun, A GUN! From his belt. He’d missed it. Hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t realized it was there.

He’d gotten out of the way, but not without a few bruises and a lot of blood. The bullet had gazed his side, shattering a rib on impact, before continuing through him.

The wall behind him had cracked at the blunt force.

He hadn’t even felt the pain until after a patrol had secured the robber. Only then had the pain forced him to his knees. Karen offline.

That last bit brings Peter to his current situation. Sticking against the side of Avengers tower – former Stark tower – hoping that somebody keeps the med bay open when there isn’t an Avengers-level threat. In pain, and hurting, Peter climbs up towards an open window. He’s lost track of the floor numbers, his brain dizzy and fuzzy. Filled with Spider-web instead of actual brain matter.

Mr. Stark won’t be at the tower, he notes to himself as he reaches the window. That could be an issue.

He’s met most of the Avengers, but only in the mask. They rarely spend their time at the tower, staying outside the city, at the compound. It means Helen Cho, the only doctor who truly understands Peter’s mutation, is also at the compound.

But what choice does a hurt Spider have? No Karen, no phone, and a desperate need to not scare the shit out of his aunt. Bleeding and passed out, on their apartment floor when she returns home from a late night nursing shift.

All he can hope for is that no one tries to pull off his mask.

He reaches the window, and carefully sticks to its surface, pulling it outwards. His body might act like a part spider, but it doesn’t translate in size to an actual spider.

Carefully he gets it fully open and pulls himself up onto the window’s edge. Shielding his ribs the best he can, so he doesn’t pass out from pure pain. Closing the window behind him, he slides into what he recognizes as a lab on one of the upper floors. Not Mr. Starks, of course. That man isn’t here, so his lab is under lockdown. But it surely isn’t one of the Research and development labs.

It’s confirmed by the scientist, who looks at Spider-man with a slightly confused but not unkind look. It’s the all-smashing hulk, Avengers on a part-time, and coolest scientist on the planet – not counting Mr. Stark – Bruce Banner!

“Good afternoon, Spider-man” Bruce greets formally, as the doctor always does, “What a surprise”.

No Helen Cho and no Mr. Stark, but Dr. Banner is almost as good.

Like most of the Avengers, Peter has talked to Bruce while being in the mask. Full secret identity. He’d also won over the Hulk by telling a joke, much to the shock of everyone present. Look, Mr. Stark! My jokes are good for something. Unlike most Avengers, he’s also talked to Bruce as Peter Parker, Mr. Stark’s first, only, and last, intern.

“Dr. Banner, Hulk, sir” Peter salutes, “Sorry about…” he waves a gloved hand at the window. Wincing as he pulls the wound in his side, a few stray drops of blood dripping from his body, “About barging in and all”.

The doctor looks between Peter and the window, before shrugging.

On the lab table between them, Dr. Banner is working with his late DNA samples. Peter remembers being told about this. Bruce has a large interest in biochemistry. Something that had started when he was just Peter’s age and came in handy after becoming a green monster. These samples aren’t from Bruce himself, though. These are from some other subjects with a similar mutation.

Black spots slowly start dancing in front of Peter’s eyes, and despite wanting to look strong in front of his fellow hero, Peter knows better than to test destiny. Mr. Stark would be proud if he saw this. Sliding down to the floor as carefully as he can, he feels his whole body relax.

Running on adrenaline isn’t new to Spider-man, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, and swinging between buildings. The crash hits, and with an injury like his, the pain tribbles in seconds.

Dr. Banner gives him a concerned look and is already on his way around the lab table when Peter musters enough strength to speak once more. “You wouldn’t know how to…” he tasks a deep breath, ribs hurting as his lungs expand, “Know how to help with… this?”.

Bruce, the amazing Bruce, too kind and too perfect and too real, kneels by his side. Hands run against Peter’s side, where the Spider-man suits hang in shreds around his torso. “I’m not that kind of doctor” Bruce replies, but makes no move to leave Peter alone, “I’m really not-“.

“I’ve got advanced healing abilities” he informs the doctor, trying to sound more mature than he really is. It’s bad enough that Natasha knows – which, honestly, isn’t so bad – Bruce can’t know about his age too. About Peter Benjamin Parker, hiding his sweaty curls under a spandex mask, that’s close to impossible to breathe through. Natasha understands, Bruce… doesn’t. He can’t imagine Bruce being okay with this. “I just… you know… need to make sure it heals right”.

There’s no judgment from the older man – no claims of downplaying injuries – he helps Peter to his feet. Offers a steady hand. Safety.

Peter leans more of his weight on Bruce than he means to. His knees feel weak like they might buckler under him at any moment, sending him face first into the floor. But Dr. Banner is strong, easily holding him up.

They’re in the elevator before he even notices. Friday talks in the background, voice robotic and annoyingly loud.

The number above the door tickles down, one at a time until it reaches 77. A floor Peter knows better than his own suit pocket. The med bay.

He’s being guided along into a private room, Bruce lowering him to a bed. The mattress sinks under him, soft sheets brushing against his sensitive skin. “Spider-man” fingers snap in front of his face, he blinks tiredly at Dr. Banner, “Do you know if they have any of your blood in storage?”.

He nods.

Dr. Banner rushes out of the room. His enhanced hearing tracks the male as he makes it through the med bay, down to the blood bank they keep.

Enhanced, means that they’re different.

Different means they can’t get blood from just anybody. Peter stops by once a week; a liter being pumped out of his body. For safety. Half is transported to the compound, and half stays at the tower.

The doctor returns, a few pints of blood in hand. “Gotta get your suit off” the man moves to help, but Peter stops him. A single, long press against the Spider planted against his chest, loosens the tight fabric. It slides down against his chest, pulling at the skin around the wound. His arms and chest are left exposed, and the cold air of the med bay makes him shiver.

Hands come to pull the mask off, too. Spider-man wants to fight it. He’s been so careful of his identity. So careful. Now two people will find out in less than a month.

First Natasha. Now Bruce. Soon, the whole team.

Bruce sucks in a deep breath when his face is revealed under the spandex. He blinks lazily up, deprived of the special lenses, his senses struggle against the harsh lights. “H-hey Bruce” he greets, voice small.

If he imagines screaming, raw, anger, worry, and panic, he’s wrong. Bruce barely spares him a second look, carefully placing a link in the crock of Peter’s exposed elbow. “Hi, Peter”.

He leans fully back into the bed, grateful for a moment of peace. Bruce moves slowly, but efficiently, having clearly done this work before. Even if he isn’t a medical doctor. It shouldn’t surprise him. Even Mr. Stark managed to place a handful of perfectly lined stings, despite Peter twitching in pain under the needle’s touch.

Superhero 101, first aid training. Field medicine.

Because you never know when a fellow hero gets hurt.

Spider-man really should listen during those classes.

“So…” Bruce uses one of Friday’s scanners, to get a better view of the internal injury, “I haven’t seen you in the lab lately. I guessing school has been busy?”.

Peter blinks at that. It’s so utterly casual. “I’m sorry, Dr. Banner. But I was under the impression, adults were supposed to get mad when I end up here”, the joke falls flat, as Bruce prepares his tools.

“Tony gets mad at you?” the doctor looks horrified for a short moment.

“No. No! Not like that. Mr. Stark worries about me, he just…” he swallows, “Isn’t very good at showing it”.

Bruce raises a brow of confusion, “Tony really shouldn’t talk. He gets hurts a lot too”.

That wasn’t news to Peter. Mr. Stark was the first modern hero to walk on earth, and his superhero persona had practically been born, because of an injury. Though his mentor and possible father figure had a metal suit painted in red and gold, Spider-man wasn’t quite as protected. Mr. Stark’s injuries, he imagined, would be a lot less intense. And, Mr. Stark had the one thing that could make Peter jealous. Pain medication that actually worked.

“Good news. Your rib is already healing, should be fine in an hour or two” Banner pulls out a needle, threading it with steady hands. “Tell me if you need a break”.

With that Dr. Banner guided the needle in through the skin and muscle on one side of the wound, before pulling it through on the other side. The pinch made the already painful wound throb, but Peter bit his lip and breathed through it. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t tried before.

Bruce ended the word, tying off the end of the thread, and discarding the needle into the trash. Then, cleaned the skin around the wound, before covering it with a bit of gauze. An infection would suck, and even to Spider-man’s enhanced healing, some bacteria could do real damage to his body.  

Returning to the question from earlier Peter nods, “Groupwork from hell” he comments.

“Ah, yes” Bruce chuckles lightly, taking a chair next to the bed, “The nightmare of high school. Though I doubt it can be such a big issue for stem students. If nothing else, you can split the work and still get a decent grade”.

Bruce Banner, the Hulk, got it. A nightmare. A real-life nightmare. And yet he was so, so, wrong. “Not when your partner, bought his way into the school”.

Enough “Flash” Thompson was… smart. There wasn’t any doubt about his skill in certain classes, and while he was above average… he rarely showed it. Wasting his time with other rich kid students, who didn’t do their work. When he could become great friends with people like Peter or Ned. Get better grades, too, if he cared to actually do the work.

They’d gone to middle school together. Before Ned and MJ had entered Peter’s life, Flash hadn’t seemed like such a bad option.

God, how things could change.

For the latest project, much to Peter’s dismay, Mr. Harrington has put the two together. They had to write a 6-page report about a topic of their choosing and build or create an experiment that could prove their point or fix an issue that their topic focused on.

All they had so far, was a handful of emails in which Peter attempted to start a conversation.

Maybe they should build a system to ensure good communication between students. That didn’t depend on Facebook friendships and glitching school mailing systems.

“Is it really that bad?” Bruce rests a hand on Peter’s leg, giving him a kind look. Actual concern, that doesn’t hide any anger.

“No” Peter shakes his head, “If only he cared to be a little nice sometimes, it could be great”.

The doctor nods in understanding. Childhood bullies.

Peter keeps going, “I think maybe something is wrong at home. I mean, his mother isn’t in the picture, and his father kind of just throws money at everything”. A little like Mr. Stark had done after the homecoming incident. “He’s struggling”.

“Good thing he’s in a group with Spider-man, then,” Banner says, getting to his feet. He moves slowly towards the door, turning to look at him before leaving. “I’ll check back in later. If it heals right, I see no reason to worry Tony” he smiles, “Get some rest”.

Peter waves a careful goodbye.

Bruce always has the best advice.

Chapter Text

Peter Parker is T-posing in Tony Stark’s lab. Or Spider-man is T-posing? Spider-man without mask? Peter-man is T-posing? Spider-Parker is T-posing? Doesn’t matter. Peter Parker, wearing most of the Spider-man suit, is T-posing in Tony Stark’s lab. Squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights streaming from the ceiling. It’s gridded reflection stars back at him from the lenses of his discarded mask.

It's internship day, as Peter likes to call it. It’s a day where he’ll slip into Happy’s car in front of the school, smiling and happy, watching Flash’s expression crumble into awe. A day where he’ll get sucked into the technology world, that is the towers lab, just below the penthouse. 

He loves it. Wouldn’t give it away from anything, even if it meant more time in the suit.

It just so happens that this internship day, does mean more time in the suit. Combining Peter’s two favorite things and turning them into one. Lab day with Mr. Stark, and Spider-man.

Peter isn’t swinging through the city, helping cats out of trees and carrying groceries for older people – he’ll do that again soon enough – but he is doing the mandatory, once a month, suit fixing. Reinstalling parachute (if it had been deployed). Recalibrating the suit lenses, because the last time they forgot, Peter was left sobbing on the floor. A sensory overload like no other triggered, by Karen’s sudden, wrong settings. And today, it also includes stitching up a nice gash in its upper arm.

True to Bruce’s words, he hadn’t told Mr. Stark about the incident. Much to Peter’s relief. Mr. Stark hadn’t quiet believe that Peter’s suit was damage by a cat either, though. It was an ongoing discussion, that Peter was – maybe – probably winning.  

“Tell me again how a cat did this” Mr. Stark prompts, pitching a needle deeper than it needs to, scrapping at Peter’s skin.

“Mr. Stark” Peter groans, rolling his eyes in true teenage fashion. There’s no bad intension with it as he soon splutters on a large grin, watching Mr. Stark getting frustrated at his teenage brain. “There where this really pretty red cat” he explains for the 5^th time, “It was so big, and so chobby! Karen probably took a photo. Karen?”.

A holo-photo appears from one of the mask lenses, portraying a red cat in a tree. Because there had actually been a cat that day, thank you very much. Here you go Peter. Was there anything else?

“Nop” Peter pops the P and counties, “So I was on my way up to get the cat, cause this little girl was really sad. Scared too. Thought she’d never get her cat down. You know”.

Mr. Stark nods along humming, adding a sarcastic remark, “Oh yeah, sure do”.

“And then I went all like ‘Don’t you worry young one, your master is here’. Which is a Star Wars thing, and you’re old, you wouldn’t get it” Peter smirks as Mr. Stark’s sour expression.

“You weren’t even born when the first Star Wars movie came out” the adult in the room reminds.

Ignoring it, Peter keeps going. Swinging his arms out, gesturing as he keeps going on with the story. “Anyways, so I claimed up and got the cat out of the tree. Really nice cat too. It purred in my arms all the way down. But back down on the street level, it saw some bird. And then the cat wanted to run after the bird, but the girl wanted the cat, and I didn’t want to make the girl cry. So I held the cat tighter, which made the cat angry, which made the cat scratch and scratch, until it finally broke the suit. It was crazy Mr. Stark. Almost like an Alien!”.

His mentor perks up at the last part, finally looking at Karen’s holo-photo of the ginger cat. For a moment there’s concern, then another stich into the suit’s fabric.

“If you see that cat again. Call. Me” there’s a stern tone to his voice.

Peter frows, “What? Why? It’s really just a cat Mr. Stark-“.

“Goose is why. Goose the cat. Goose the alien cat that ate a fucking tesseract” Mr. Stark discards the needle and threat, waving his hands at the now fixed hole. “It’s NOT a cat”.

Deciding not to question it, Peter let’s his arms fall to his side awkwardly. T-posing ended.

Peter, would you like for me to send a T-posing photo to Ned Leeds? Karen asks kindly, and Peter nods. A loading bar appears for the better part of a second in place of the cat photo, before both disappears. Holo off.

Peter slides down into his seat, screwdriver in hand. Mr. Stark is already far off into his own mind again, rewriting a piece of code, that Peter believes might be for an AI.

That’s what’s lab time is like some times.

Some day Peter asks question after question, watching over his mentor’s shoulder. An easygoing banter flies between them, and it feels truly like they are both enjoying their time. On those days Peter learns a lot about technology. Information that he treasures, because he knows, some day he’ll be standing on his own two feet. And the more he knows, the better chance he has at getting an actual job.

Mr. Stark always claims Peter won’t need it. That Stark Industries has a spot with Peter’s name waiting already. But somehow, it feels wrong to Peter, using his relation to Tony Stark.

Other days, partially days after patrol injuries, Mr. Stark turns quiet. Peter knows not to ask questions on those days. Instead, they tinker with each their project, but more often than not, Peter is just sitting back and doing homework. Waiting for Mr. Stark to get angry. Or worried. Whichever comes first.

As if faith, neither of them happen. The lab doors slide open, revealing the face or War Machine. One of the newer members of the Avengers, form solider, paralyzed, War Machine. Also known as Rhodey.

“Toones” he greets, eyes finding the labs owner with ease. He doesn’t see Peter. “I almost thought you weren’t here today. It’s so quiet without the blasting ACDC”.

Mr. Stark looks up and smiles kindly as his friend. Peter has read about the two of them going to college together. Who hasn’t? For a younger Peter it had been to figure out more about what types of techs the duo worked with during their earlier years. For an older Peter, it had been an attempt at understand that Mr. Stark made mistakes too. The biggest headline having been Tony Stark pees in Iron man suit.

“Honeybear” Mr. Stark shoots back, getting to his feet, “No music with kids in the lab. Pepper’s rule”. Peter flusters as his mentor lies. It was Mr. Stark’s own rule, after seeing the effect loud sounds had on Peter’s enhanced body.

Rhodey looks confused at Tony for a long moment, before scanning the lab like he failed to do when entering. His eyes rests on Peter, gluing themselves to the suit that still sits tightly fitted over his teenage small frame.

Peter keeps expecting to be lectured by his fellow heroes. To be benched until he could legally drive, or worse, legally drink. But Natasha had failed to even mention Peter’s age, having already figured Peter’s secret out. Bruce Banner hadn’t been any better, though threats had hung in the air as a reminder that Peter needed to be more careful.

Rhodey isn’t any different from Bruce or Natasha. He seems pretty chill, if Peter reads him right.

“Hi” Peter waves awkwardly, discarding the screen driver, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker”.

“Ah, yes. Tony mentioned his intern. Nice to meet you Pete” Rhodey leans against his lab table, reaching a hand out. They shake for a moment, Peter adjusting his strength to match Rhodeys, “Don’t you sell pictures to the Bugle?”.

Peter rubs his neck with a smirk, “Caught me. I do indeed! You like them?”.

Mr. Stark watches from a distance as the first meeting outside of mask happens. “They’re cool. Though, I think I talk for both of us” he nods to Tony “When I say I wish Jameson would talking a little more positively of you know who”.

“It’s worth it, though. He pays really well, and I’ve always loved photography. If science fail, I wouldn’t mind going on a more creative path” he smiles kindly.

“Tony can’t be happy about that” Rhodey comments offhandedly, “But I do understand it, you got skills. It’s some of the best selfies I’ve ever seen. Don’t you agree, Tony?”. And there it is. The comment. He knows. He understands. He’s not going to get mad. At least, not right here, right now. Though Peter can imagine the conversation between the two friends later, behind closed doors, when Peter has gone home.

When you said he was young, I didn’t know you meant this young, Tony.

Mr. Stark nods in the background, slowly working on his tech choice of the day. A repulser that Peter is pretty sure broke during the last battle. Flying through the air, fighting against robot aliens. Blue, robot aliens. Ned had been so jealous in school the following day.

“Me and the kid were just about to grab lunch, you want some honeybear?” Mr. Stark puffs in, and sure enough. On commando, Peter’s stomach growls loudly. “The usual, from that Chinese place on 4^th street?”.

“Sounds perfect” Rhodey grins, “You’ve rapped him around your little finger, Pete. You know that, right?”.

Peter shrugs, “Guess that’s what happens when you faint on the lab floor…” he whispers so only he can hear it. It was one time. While still recovering from an injury. And maybe, just maybe, he’d forgotten his lunch in the fridge at home. Then he hadn’t truly understood what would happen if he didn’t eat. He thought he’d just get a little dizzy, maybe tired. Normal stuff. Wrong.

Swan dive. Peter’s face, against the cold floors. Blood. It had been great, and Peter had been fine. Truly.

Grabbing the pill of discarded cloths from a nearby lab table, Peter moves towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right be” he says, waving up and down himself before disappearing behind a closed door. Carefully he pulls the spandex off his body, being extra careful around Mr. Stark patch job. Then replaces the suit with a pair of washed-out jeans and a science pun t-shirt and hoodie.

Looking into the mirror Peter fixes his hair. Brushing his fingers through it, till it hits that messy, but not too messy point that he loves. He lingers in there for a while, watching himself in the reflective surface. At age 16 he still carries a babyface, but when he looks closely, he thinks maybe he looks a bit more mature now. He stands taller than he did six months ago, hair a little longer, and the first beard stumps appearing on his chin.

Peter, Spider-man, whoever he is, is growing up. Does he t-pose in the lab? Yes. Ned and himself are still teens, not adults. But it suddenly makes sense why the Avengers that knows his age, doesn’t seem to freak out at the fact he’s a superhero. Slowly, but surely, he is becoming a true hero.

With that, Peter plasterers on a big grin and steps back out into the lab. Mr. Stark and Rhodey are waiting for him, leaning against the tables, “You ready to go Underoos?”.

“All set Mr. Stark” Peter nods quickly, making his way to the two adults.

Clapping in his hands, Mr. Stark takes the lead. The lab doors slides closed behind them, “Let’s get some food then” he says in a sing songy voice. Rhodey chuckles and pads Peter’s shoulder.

Chapter Text

“Thanks for the ride Happy!” Peter grins as he slides out through the backdoor of Happy Hogan’s car. Pulling his backpack over his shoulder, he waves kindly and takes a few steps backwards. An adventure feeling bubbles in his stomach at the thought of today’s plan. A real, epic, Avengers training session! Ned should be there, really, Ned should be there for everything.

Happy frowns at Peter through the front window, as the back door slams closed. The older man and Mr. Stark head of security points to Peter’s bare chest.

Laughing for himself, Peter pulls the name badge out of his pocket, fiddling with it till it sits securely in the hoodie fabric. Happy pulls off the curb a moment later, and Peter makes his way toward the tower entrance with a growing grin.

As he walks through the sliding glass doors his sense is attacked by the constant humming of the tower. People are shuffling along, moving in and out of gates in an attempt to get to their own lab. Somewhere glass splitters a few floors up, a few floors above that somebody rat is chewing it’s way through some new experimental metal, and even higher than that Peter can hear the soft hum of the machine that runs it all. The one, the only, the amazing, arc reactor!

“Good afternoon, Peter” one of the security guards’ nods in greeting as Peter approaches the gate, “You know the drill. Bag in the tray, scan your badge and walk through the metal detector”.

Carefully Peter places both bag and phone into the orange plastic tray, “Sure thing Mason! Did you try that recipe yet?”.

Mason the security guard nods with a smile, waving Peter forward. The plastic tray disappears into the x-ray machine. Scanning his badge Peter waits for green light. Hello, Peter. How was school? Friday asks from somewhere unseen.

“School was great” Peter answers easily “I nailed that Spanish test this morning”.

A small piece of chiming music plays and Friday makes the lights over the metal detector circle through the colors of the rainbow. Boss would like me to inform you that the private elevator are going through a service check. You should use elevator 1B in the meantime.

“Understood” he nods scanning the elevator section for 1B as he walks through the metal detector.

Welcome Peter Parker. Interne, level 7 an automated recoding plays over the speakers above his head. The orange plastic tray rolls out the machine and with a smile, Peter gathers his things and moves towards the elevators.

A few older, real internes are walking out of elevator 1B as Peter reaches it. A few scientists waiting for it. The elevator fills up quickly, and the doors slides close, and with it the tower goes quiet. Peter takes a deep breath, silently thanking Mr. Stark for soundproofing the elevators in Avengers tower. It’s one of only a few places where Peter can feel truly normal. The other places being Mr. Stark’s personal lab and the Avengers areas on the three tops floor, including the penthouse, training area, and personal rooms.

The elevator comes to a stop on level 18, letting the scientists enter their lab area. Peter scans the lab through the door, it’s bigger than Mr. Stark’s, but somehow much more chaotic. Tightening the grab on his backpack, Peter staggers a step backwards are two men enters the elevator. Not scientists, no. Men. One of them is larger and buffer than more, standing there with his arms folded and perfect blond hair sitting just right. His blue eyes look down on Peter with a curious glance.

“H-Hello sir” Peter nods, making space for them as he takes in the other man. He’s smaller, the beginning of a bear growing, his dark brown hair being naturally messy.

Captain America aka Steve Rogers, and Ant man aka Scott Lang.

The taller and blonder of the two men looked Peter up and down before turning to his teammate, “Thought Stark reserved the elevator high leveled individuals” Steve Rogers whispers to Scott. Just low enough that normal humans wouldn’t hear, but Peter isn’t exactly normal.

Louder, obvlivous to Steve’s careful personality, Scott replies “Pretty sure Spider-man is level 7. Same as us”.

“Spider-man?” Steve questions out into the room “Don’t be stupid, Scott. Spider-man isn’t 12-years-old. Have you seen the webbing he creates? Stark says it’s some of the most advanced chemistry ever seen. Bruce can’t even replicate it”.

“I’m 16” Peter splutters before thinking about it, then looks to Scott with worried eyes. He’s worked with Ant man before as Spider-man. He’s watched Scott’s daughter, Cassie, as Peter Parker too. But the man has never been told about his secret identity, and Peter has been more careful than normally to leaves his suit at May’s apartment when visiting the young girl. Had Ned slipped up while Peter wasn’t around? Couldn’t be, right? His friends knew what the secret identity meant.

Scott looks confused between Steve and Peter. Steve looks almost just as confused, as he stars at Peter. His eyes don’t waver, as they slowly grow darker at the realization.

Peter, your heartrate has risen drastically. Would you like for me to contact Mr. Stark for you? Friday pips up, her robotic voice coming from the elevator speakers, cutting off the repetitive music. Scott looks up, confusion growing.

Doesn’t he know of Mr. Stark’s AI? Peter wonders to himself, before shaking his head, “N-no. I’m good Friday. I… tell him… I’ll be up in a minute”.

As you wish, Peter, Friday responds before the elevator falls back into silence.

It’s a long, long moment before anyone speaks. Steve breaks the silence, “You’re Spider-man?” he questions with a hint of disbelief linger in his voice. Peter swallows hard but doesn’t reply. Of all people to question Peter’s identity, he never thought it would be Captain America himself. Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey… they’d all been so chill about it. Like it was just a casual Thursday. Like there was nothing wrong with Peter being Spider-man. But as Steve looks at him now, anger, fear, and judgment slip into the super soldiers’ eyes.

Silently he prays that Mr. Stark is watching through the camera’s, despite his stammering message to Friday. Spider-man is strong, stronger than Steve Rogers, stronger than the Iron man suits, almost as strong as the Hulk. But as he stands under his Hero’s hard, icy cold eyes, he feels as weak and as tiny as a mouse.

Scott pushed Peter backwards till his back collides with the elevator backwall and his breath hitches, before placing himself between the teen and Rogers. “Christ, calm down. Kid’s terrified Steve”.

Steve’s face only grows angrier, glazing over Scott’s shoulder, “Stark said you where young” he says, then stops. Mouth hanging open for a short moment as he tastes the word young, “But he didn’t say exactly how young…”.

Old movie references and gen Z jokes from the battle of Berlin flashes through Peter’s mind. Exactly how young…? How could this man, not guess? Peter wishes desperately to disappear. To wake up. To sink into the ground. It had to be a nightmare… just a nightmare.

The elevator comes to a halting stop, doors opening on Mr. Stark lab floor. Not in the penthouse or the Avengers floor like Peter had expected. The scent of motor oil and fried tech hangs in the air as Mr. Stark steps into view. “Rogers” he greets in a harsh PR tone. The super soldier steps aside just enough that Mr. Stark can make it to Peter. A soft hand on his shoulder guides him out the elevator, as Scott follows, hot on their heels. Steve stays behind.

Before he knows it, Peter is situated on the lab couch. Mr. Stark is nowhere to be seen, but he can hear hushed voices down the hall, despite Friday’s best attempt at sound proofing the lab.

“I didn’t know it was a secret” Scott says then, “I thought everyone knew”.

Peter meets his eyes, shaking his head. Almost nobody knew. The number might be growing, slowly but surely. But not everyone. Most of the Avengers team were blissfully unaware that Spider-man, their youngest team member, the person they trusted to have their back, wasn’t even an adult yet. If Peter wanted to be in the military – not that he wanted that – he still had six months before he could sign up if May was willing to allow it.

“Nobody knew” Peter says, instead of explaining that. He raises his eyes to meet Scott’s. There’re a million questions echoing in his mind. How long has he known? How did he know? Who told him? Why hadn’t he said something before now? But he doesn’t ask any of them. Just waits for Scott to speak again.

“I’m sorry” Scott says truthfully “I guess it’s a dad instinct. I just, recognize teenagers, mask or not mask. The same as ants, though those are a little harder”.

Peter nods in understanding “How long?”.

Scott shrugs, fingers tapping rhythmically at the lab table behind him. “I knew you were probably a teen since Germany”, Peter tilts his head confused, “It’s your build. You’re small, still, sorta? The way you talked and kept on talking. The Mr. thing was a big clue too. If only Cassie had as good manners as you”.

“And… the Peter Parker part?” he asks when Scott doesn’t go on.

Another shrug, “I don’t know. At some point Peter Parker and Spider-man just, kinda fell into the same box inside my brain. Maybe you said something while wearing the mask or did something. Maybe it’s Cassie who planted something there. I really don’t know”.

Children and fools tell the truth, Peter had once heard his aunt say, before Ben died. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was Cassie, little, peachy perfect princess Cassie, who’d figured it out first. She knew about her father’s life of crime, and his life as a hero. Really, how many kids would a superhero know, if said kid or teen wasn’t a superhero too? Rhodey didn’t know any other kids, neither did Natasha or Bruce (not counting Clint’s secret family).

He sighs, slumping completely back into the soft couch. His backpack adds a grounding weight to his lap. Slowly his heart calms in his chest. Just in time.

Down the corridor footsteps starts nearing the lab. A moment later Mr. Stark steps in, followed by Steve Rogers himself. There’s an expectant look on his mentors’ face, mixed with old hatred. At times Peter forgets that these people were rough, but he knows Mr. Stark never forgets. His father figure has the scares across his chest, still red and sore at times, to remind him of Germany. Of Siberia.

Steve says nothing, so Mr. Stark nudges him forward with a hard push between his shoulder blades.

“I apologize for scaring you in the elevator” Rogers says with practiced perfection, “I shouldn’t have judged you based on age alone. You’ve proven yourself to be an invaluable member of the team, I have no right to forget that”.

Mr. Stark nods happily in the background, a grin growing on his lips.

Peter forces a small smile, tightening his grasp around the backpack straps. “Apology accepted?” he hesitates. It becomes more a question than a statement. His cheeks turn flushed, and a tiredness overwhelms him.   

“But…” Rogers goes on, because there’s always a but, “I do believe it was reckless of Mr. Stark to allow your age and identity to be kept secret, from your team. We need to know who we’re fighting side by side with. I’ve respected your want for a mask because I know not all people can live in Avengers tower or be under Shield protection. I understand that there is a security challenge. But if I had known your age, I wouldn’t have ignored it”.

His mentors grin turns into a deep frown.

Rogers doesn’t see, “At the very least, I, the team leader, should have been informed”.

“Since when are you the team leader?” Peter huffs out, not unkindly. The Avengers switched leaders all the time depending on the mission. Last month Hulk had leaded, while the month before that Natasha had taken on the role. Different missions meant different skills sets and different contacts were needed. Even Peter – with a little support from Mr. Stark – had helped make important decision in the field because of his experience with rescuing civilians.

Without replying Steve turns on his heels and disappears, “See you guys for training in twenty” he calls out before disappearing into the elevator.

Scott pads Peter’s shoulder, grabbing a duffle bag from the floor, and moves towards the lab doors too. “You know, Cassie would love it if Spider-man showed up for her birthday party next month” he says, hanging in the door.

Mr. Stark looks between the two bug themed heroes, “You’ve got my number” Peter repones with a smile.

Chapter Text

Thanks again Pete. Cassie hasn’t been able to talk about anything non-Spider-man related for days now. Same time next year? – Scott

Peter smiles fondly at the text message. Cassie’s party had been a success. All the little girls and boys from her class had been awestruck, just because of little old friendly neighborhood Spider-man. Their eyes had shined the same way they did, when Peter swung through the city at Christmas with a big, red Santa hat, or when he landed next to their window. Peter had fun at the birthday party too, of course. Making casually conversation with Scott and eating too much cake.

Sure thing! Peter replies quickly making his way down the front stairs of Midtown high.

“Finally free!” Ned shouts to the world following close behind Peter, “Are you going on patrol today?”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat, scanning his surroundings for anyone listening in, “Ned… You can’t shout that kind of stuff for all of the world to hear.”

Realizing his mistake Ned apologizes kindly. He’d gotten better at the secret identity thing since learning about Spider-man the year prior. Parts of it, Peter believe, was due to MJ. The newest member of their friend group, and unofficially leader of the Spider-man chat group they’d made together. MJ knew how to keep a secret, and it was apparently rubbing off on Ned.

“Are you going to your internship?” Ned asks, more discreetly this time but with as much excitement as before. It was a Friday afternoon after all, and Peter could feel a similar level of excitement in his own body.

“I am” he nods, “After last weeks epic fail, Mr. Stark decided we’d do some team building activity at the tower.”

Ned’s face twists in annoyance at the reminder. Peter had told his two best friends of his run in with Captain America and Scott Lang of course. It had been nice that Scott knew about his identity, it made things easier when it had to cancel babysitting for Cassie. But Rogers reaction was still clear in his mind, the absolute anger that had been turned towards not just Peter, but toward Mr. Stark and Scott too… it lingered. He wouldn’t go as far as say he was scared of the team leader of the Avengers… but he had been staying away from the tower, and more importantly, away from any battle in New York where the Avengers showed up. Despite being on patrol, just a block away, and being invited by his mentor Iron man.

“Your life is so cool” Ned lets out in a jealousy sigh “Knowing Tony Stark, hanging with the Avengers. You’ll have to tell me all abou-“

“Avengers?!” Flash’s voice rings out behind them and Peter twirls around on his heels. His heart skips a beat at the giant laugh coloring Flash’s face. “First you lie about an internship that isn’t open for high school students. Now you’re pretending you just happen to know the Avengers?”

Peter just shrugs, mouth dry. Right now he wishes he was swinging through the city. Flying through the streets of New York. Home. Anything but here.

Flash comes down the steps but doesn’t get too close. Scanning the parking lot for someone, Peter doesn’t know who. “You gonna say anything Parker?”

“I-I… I don’t know the Avengers. But the internship is real, Flash, I’ve told you. Remember? I applied for the September-“

“Foundation. Yeah, yeah, you’ve told us before.” Flash has a glimmer of something unsettling in his eyes, “So, it’s real. In that case, I’m sure you mentor Tony Stark wouldn’t mind you showing a few classmates your cool place of work, right? You said you were going there, right now?”

For a long moment Peter’s mind is left absolutely confused. Flash believes? No, no way. A part of him want so badly to say yes right now, bring Flash to the tower and prove him wrong. But he can’t. It isn’t a normal lab day for Peter, it’s a training session with the Avengers.

He bits his lip hard, feeling like a tiny ant who’s being stamped on by a boat. He can run, but he doesn’t. “I can’t today” he almost shouts, “But, uh… maybe next time?”

Flash seems almost surprised by that responds. As if he’d been expecting a no. A decline.

Peter fiddles with his backpack, and suddenly regrets telling Happy that he’d swing to the tower. There’s something comforting about his big frame that can push his way through a crowd of people, if they ever needed to.

Neither of them gets to say another world. A solid, brown object flies through the air, hitting Flash’s lower jaw. Not hard, Flash isn’t thrown back or into the ground or anything. But hard enough that his attention moves to the person throwing stuff at him. And there, at the top of the steps stands MJ, half a piece of bread in her hand. It suddenly becomes clear what exactly hit Flash. If Peter hadn’t been so grateful for MJ right then, he would have laughed.

“What was that for?” Flash exclaims.

MJ shrugs, taking a bit of bread, “I was trying to see if I could make your brain work normally” she smiles, “Did it work?”

Flash grips hard around his backpack straps, opens his mouth and closes it again a few times. Like a guppy. Wanting to say something, but never does. A big fancy car pulls up to  the curb and Flash only spars a single glance at Peter before sliding into the backseat.

Peter says his thanks and goodbye to MJ and Ned, before he starts down the path to his favorite alleyway. It’s almost completely closed of to the mains street, due to a conveniently placed container. Even in daylight, the shadows at the end of it almost seems pitch-black. It’s perfect for hiding secret identities. Or… just one secret identity. That are slowly becoming less and less secret.

Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey, Steve and Scott. It’s almost the entirety of the original team. And that’s before Peter counts all the people that knows in his private life. MJ, Ned, Mr. Stark, and of course Aunt May.

He isn’t ready for the world to quiet yet. Honestly, most the time he isn’t sure he’ll ever be. But, in due time he has no doubt the whole Avengers team will know. Maybe he’ll reveal himself to Thor today? Or Sam? They both seem nice enough in the field. So, maybe he can trust them?

He discards his backpack at the end of the alley and starts pulling off his cloths. Until he stands in just boxers in the middle of a New York alley. Pulling the suit out the backpack he carefully pulls it on, making sure he doesn’t rip the thread of their latest repair. He pulls it up around his thig, then stomach and chest, lettings it clings to his shoulders. Then activates the compression. The air is sucked out of the suit, leaving the spandex sitting nicely tight against his skin.

Then he kneels and starts searching for his mask and gloves. He’d packed them that morning, but it wasn’t uncommon that they somehow fell to the very bottom where they couldn’t see the light of day.

A moment later he finally finds something soft, and lets his fingers dig into the fabrics.

Too late.

“Spider-man?” it’s Flash. Peter can recognize that voice anywhere. Its God damn Flash Thompson. What kind of luck is this? Parker luck, obviously. Why hadn’t his Spidey-sense reacted? “Oh my god, it’s really you. Hi, I’m Flash. I, uh, I’m your biggest fan!”

As quickly he can he pulls the fabric out. But it’s not his mask, it’s his gloves.

“Oh, uhm” Peter tries making his voice deep and doesn’t turn towards the teen who’s slowly getting deeper into the alley. “Can I help you, good citizen?”

Peter keeps searing for the mask. Digging through his backpack with intense movements.

“Could I, maybe, get a selfie with you? I mean, if it isn’t a bad time. What are you doing in an alley anyways, stakeout? Secret mission?” Flash rambles. For a moment he almost sounds like Peter, if only a little more annoying. Shy, nervous. It hits him like a ton of bricks, Flash’s hero is Spider-man. How ironic can it be. Weak, bullied, Peter Parker, is Flash’s hero. “Maybe I could help?” Flash finally offers.

He could really use MJ’s bread throwing skills right about now. “I appreciate the offer kid, but uh, my job is very dangerous. I wouldn’t want to put you in danger.”

“So, you are on mission?” Flash sounds even happier now, and finally reaches the darkest part of the alley. If Peter wanted to, he could reach out and touch him. Only the shadows of the alley, where the sun doesn’t shine, conceals his identity. But it won’t for long.

Peter’s fingers reach a deep whole in the backpack, and sighs with frustration. His mask is gone. He could have dropped it anywhere between here and Midtown. If Flash wasn’t here, he could change back and go find it. But instead, he’s stuck with his lifelong bully. In a dark alley. No way out.

“Oh uh…” Flash pulls something from his pocket. Peter is ready for it to be a phone. Ready for his secret identity to be streamed out to the whole world. Because that is what Flash would do. But it isn’t a phone he pulls out, “You must have dropped this. I saw it, and I guess, I got worried. I don’t want to imagine what kind of place the city would be without you.” Flash hands out red fabric, covered in black web. His mask.

How is he supposed to get it?

If he turns around, the shadows won’t hide his identity. Flash could run off right this second and spill the beans to the whole world. Or worse, he could make some stupid joke about Peter faking this too.

But without the mask he can’t ask for backup. What out choice does he have?

So, Peter slowly gets up from the ground, shooting a well placed web over his backpack. Then, as past as he can he turns around, takes a few steps forward, and pushes Flash into the alley’s walls. Not hard, just enough that Flash can’t get out, and therefor can’t run. At least not yet. With his free hand Peter takes the mask, and pulls it over his face the best he can. It all takes less than a second. Maybe, Flash didn’t see. Maybe, Peter was fast enough.

Flash sighs deeply, “Peter?” Well, not exactly the person Peter was expecting to reveal his identity for today. Or, like, ever.

Peter leans a little harder on Flash, “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not, I, I won’t. I promise I won’t. Spider-man’s my hero, Pe-Spidey. I haven’t seen anything.” Flash attempts a soft smile, and Peter gives up. It’s too late to do anything now. He lets him go, takes a few steps backwards.

“Go on. Scream to the world that you know I’m Spider-man” Peter nods towards the alley opening. But Flash doesn’t leave.

“If you’re Spider-man, that means… Oh my god, you do know the Avengers, don’t you? And the September foundation? That’s a cover right, so that nobody finds out about who you are?” Flash keeps going, but Peter barely hears it. Karen and the HUD in his mask activates, but it’s just a blurry blue light to Peter’s eyes. “You might not remember, but you saved me. Once. A few months ago. That car crashes a few blocks from Midtown. I was there. You got me to safety.”

Peter had? He remembers the crash, of course. A car had driven straight into the side of a school bus. But he doesn’t remember Flash specifically.

“I might not have powers like yours, Spidey. But you inspired me to try and become a better person. I’ve really, really been trying. But it’s hard. It’s hard watching you have everything that I never will. I know that’s stupid, but it’s true.” Flash looks down into the ground. His words aren’t hollow. Peter feels his heart swell a tiny bit. Is he seriously about to forgive his bully?

But then he thinks back to the past few months. Hadn’t Flash been a little less intense? A little less mean? Maybe he really was trying to be a better person.

Okay, then, “It’s not about powers, Flash. It’s about making the right choices. A hero isn’t just someone wearing a mask, it’s someone who stands up for somebody who can’t stand up for themselves. Even if it’s just a small thing, helping somebody with math, or giving a dollar to the homeless person who lives outside Mr. Delmar’s shop. You can be a hero in small ways.” Peter reaches out a hand, “You can start by keeping my secret.”

Flash nods quickly, “I wouldn’t tell anyone anyways. I promise. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

***

“What are you watching?” Rogers sits down on the bench in the teams changing room next to Peter.

Peter hands his phone over to show Rogers a live from a Spidey-fan. “It’s just some guy I ran into on my way here. I know him from school. I think… maybe we could become friends. But I’m not sure.”

“And Spider-man was just standing there in the alley, on this super cool stakeout to take down a group of bad guys! And I saw him and walked in and was like ‘Jo Spidey!’. I wanted to help, of course. But Spider-man said it was very too dangerous. But then reminded me, that was can all be heroes in our own ways!”

The video changes to outside Mr. Delmar’s Deli. The homeless man that Peter throws a dollar for whenever he can sits smiling on the ground, next to Flash, who hands him a hole 100 dollars. “Spider-man, if you’re watching this. Thank you. Sometimes it’s hard, but you make it easier. Just knowing that we aren’t alone out there. Thank you.”

The video comes to an end and Rogers nods softly. “Guess you could teach the world a thing or two…” he hands the phone back, “Including me. You did a good job today, Queens. I shouldn’t have overreacted when I found out how young you are, I wasn’t much older when I joined the military. Sam either.”

“It’s all forgiven” Peter smiles, “Captain.”