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Chapter Text

Peter ran harder, feet slapping against the rooftop as he pushed himself as fast as he could. He’d seen the large mushroom-cloud of green smoke at the same time as the rest of his class and he’d ducked out of physics as his peers rushed towards the windows. Peter already had his bag with him as he rushed to the roof, spilling out of the metal maintenance door and immediately pulling off his clothes.

Getting into his suit was much easier now, and he tapped the spider emblem the moment he got his arms all the way in. Not wasting a moment, he began running as he pulled his mask down, not bothering to secure his clothes down to the roof, confident that Ned would know where he went and get them for him like he’d done countless times before. His next step became a leap as he threw himself off another building, free-falling through the air before he flexed his wrist, pushing down with his two middle fingers to fire a stream of webbing into the air.

It caught the side of a building and he grabbed hold, pulling his legs under him as he swung up through the air. Peter let out a breathless peal of laughter as buildings rushed by him in a blur, moving so fast it was impossible to make out a single detail. He was free, flying through the air the way without anything holding him down, and he was giddy with how it felt. Swinging in a low arch he launched himself upwards, soaring up and over another building as the cloud of smoke grew larger the closer he got to where the explosion must have happened.

“Hello, Peter,” Karen's voice rang through his ears, the display of his mask lighting up with different information. 

There were statistics on the weather, his web-slinging, the most practical route to get to where he needed to be. He didn’t give the display much mind, focusing instead of zipping through the city as a smile curled up his lips and Karen’s familiar, friendly voice—it didn't matter what Tony said; he and Karen were totally best friends .

“Karen! What is that?” Peter asked, swinging around a building and propelling himself upwards, flying through the air and over the surrounding buildings. He focused on the still-growing cloud of green smoke as Karen came alive and plotted out the easiest route for him to take.

“It appears that Dr. Doom has unleashed a legion of tiny robots in Times Square,” Karen told him calmly, her voice as even as always. “The Avengers have already arrived on the scene and are working at evacuating the area while controlling the robot threat.”

“Oh cool,” Peter hummed as he followed the route Karen mapped out, swinging between buildings with ease. Damn, the explosion site was way further than he’d thought. 

Peter had only seen all the Avengers fighting together once, that one time Tony had asked him for help fighting Captain America and half of the Avengers in Germany. And even then, they weren’t fighting together (and, really, Peter still wasn't totally sure what exactly had gone down). They’d only started fighting as a team together a little over a year ago and Peter hadn’t helped them with anything until now. 

He didn’t really like the idea of them all being back in Tony’s life, but... he couldn’t really say anything about it. Not to Tony, anyway. ‘Cause sure, of course he knew that it had something to do with the Accords and that was why they were fighting in Germany, but Tony had seemed so upset on the plane ride back to New York—even if he tried really hard to hide it—that Peter still thought that more than what the press talked about had happened.

Peter wasn't going to ask, that was for sure, but he wondered. Especially now that they were all working together again and living out of the Tower like they had before everything went to shit, when Peter had to step in and help Tony fight them all, what had really happened over those few months? It wasn't his place, though, so he wasn’t going to ask. 

But he was going to keep showing up whenever Tony needed him and obviously didn’t want to call any of the others to help him, and he was going to keep asking Tony if he was okay so he’d know that someone really cared about him, and he was going to keep being there, just so Tony would always know that he had someone in his corner.

“You will find an excellent vantage point up on your left,” Karen told him, his HUD display lighting up with a semi-transparent arrow pointing to the edge of a high building.

Throwing out his arm, Peter shot a web. His shoulder protested in a bright burst of pain as he was yanked roughly to the side while his trajectory changed abruptly. He groaned even as he let the webbing go, falling through the air as his arms wind-milled about him. The rooftop raced towards him and Peter hit the ground moving too quickly. He dropped himself to the ground, rolling over on his shoulder before sticking his palm to the roof to bring himself to a stop. His body kept going with the momentum he had built from his free-fall and his legs continued to move and arched over him before slamming into the rooftop. 

“Excellent stop, Peter,” Karen complimented even as Peter groaned loudly in pain. He told himself that he was just imagining the sarcastic tilt to her voice, but damn him if it wasn't really there.

“Thanks,” he croaked, taking a moment to catch his breath before he stood again, arching his back in a long stretch and rubbing at the sorest part. Shit, that had been just a little too rough.

Walking slowly to the edge of the building, Peter rolled out his shoulders slowly, feeling his soreness in his skin fade away as his healing kicked in. Once at the edge, he crouched low enough to peer out over the street that the large pillar of smoke was coming from. There was a long truck lying on its side, its front crashed into a building with rubble littering the street around it. A ridiculous amount of green smoke was billowing up from the wreckage which had formed the large mushroom-cloud he’d seen from his classroom, all of it rising from where the engine must have been. 

Peter figured that was what Doom had used to transport the bots, considering there were still a number of weirdly shaped robots spilling out from the large, roughly carved-out hole in the truck’s side.

Neither he nor Karen's scanners could see Doom anywhere. Which really wasn’t that much a surprise. Seeing as how Doom almost always sent out his bots first and only making a dramatic entrance late into the battle once his 'creations' had been dealt with by whatever subset of the Avengers were dealing with him that day. He usually bothered the Fantastic Four, but on the off chance he was in Avengers territory he usually didn’t require the whole team.

Considering how many civilians Peter could still see running about and the hordes of robots chasing after them, it made sense that they were all here. Below him, most of the Avengers were mid-battle, fighting robots of varying sizes. Peter watched with wide-eyes as two of the robots joined together to double in size before they were struck by an arrow that blinked twice before exploding.

Shit. 

Peter reared back, not realizing that his mask had zoomed in on the robot he’d been watching until he was blinking his eyes to clear the bright spots dancing across his vision caused by the exploding arrow. He widened his eyes to zoom back out, murmuring “lock zoom” under his breath. Well, at least that explained the varying sizes of robots. 

“It appears as though there is a civilian in danger,” Karen announced, her robotic voice too calm to be delivering such news.

“What! Where?” Peter asked frantically, head whipping from side to side as he tried to find what Karen was talking about.

“The Hulk doesn't seem to be watching for civilians, and if he continues along his current path, I’ve calculated a ninety-eight-percent probability that he will run into a woman hiding behind a food cart.”

“What? Where is he—oh shit, okay!” Peter exclaimed, his mask showing him a heat signature that looked like someone crouched down and hiding behind an abandoned hot dog cart.

Focusing back on Hulk, Peter watched as the largest Avenger smashed through a series of robots that were clambering around his feet and trying to climb up his legs. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, blindly swinging out his arms as he fought to get the bots off him. Even without Karen highlighting his current path in a soft yellow marker, Peter could see that if he kept going the way he was he would undoubtedly run into the person hiding.

Shit. Okay, that was fine. Peter took a deep breath and gave himself a single moment to freak out before he was off, springing backwards and then racing forward to jump off the roof and dive towards the Hulk. He caught himself on a web at the last minute to curb his free-fall. As soon as he hit the ground he took off running, jumping over a car and then sliding under Captain America's shield as the hairs along his neck stood on end. His head felt like it was going to spin off, his instincts pinging left and right as the fight went on around him and he manoeuvred through danger. 

Jumping over another car, Peter spun in the air and landed lightly on his feet beside a hot dog cart before immediately springing back to his full height and planting his feet, locking his knees tightly in front of the lady screaming for her life as she sobbed incoherently. Hulk was still swinging his arms around blindly, punching through the air without any discretion. 

Peter took a deep breath. Hulk roared loudly and wound his arm back before swinging it forward in a long, racing arc directly at Peter’s body. Without a single thought of himself, his mind only on the woman whose life was in danger, Peter caught Hulk's fist squarely in his hands and ignored the concussive force of it travelling down his palms and throughout his entire body. He groaned under his breath as his knees shook, nearly giving out, and he almost cried out at the pain in his shoulders.

The ear-piercing scream of the lady behind him was easy to tune out as he gritted his teeth and focused his senses on the creature in front of him. Hulk clearly hadn't been expecting someone to catch his fist, and he blinked down at Peter as his mouth dropped open while he panted for air. His whole body was still angled towards Peter and towering over him. His eyes—which Peter noticed for the first time were shot through his lines of gold—stayed locked on where Peter was essentially cradling his fist in his hands.

Peter stumbled back, dropping Hulk's hand as he fought to keep himself from completely falling over. That would definitely not be cool, so Peter breathed through the nearly overwhelming pain radiating from his entire body. The green limb swung limply back towards Hulk and settled at his side as if it was just hanging off his body. The—Peter wasn't even sure what to call him, not really; both monster and creature sounded too negative even in his own mind—Hulk was still staring at him, and he looked almost... awed. It was pretty easy to figure out why. 

After all, Peter knew he was small. Still, he was all tightly packed, lean muscle that had developed during years of web-swinging and villain-fighting, and that wasn’t even taking into account the super-strength. Honestly, he was pretty used to being underestimated due to his size, so it really wasn’t that much of a surprise that Hulk was staring at him in what seemed to be complete confusion. 

Hulk let out a questioning noise, curling his body forward as he stared intently at Peter.

Peter tried for a smile and then said, “Hey there big green. Watch out for civilians, alright?” He did his best to keep his voice as even as possible while his whole body was still throbbing in pain. Everything hurt. Peter could feel the way his fingers had fractured under the force of Hulk's punch and his grimace was hidden by his mask as the bones slowly knit back together.

“Hulk not smash?” he asked, his mouth closing and twisting down into a frown. It was kind of... cute, actually, with the way his eyebrows were pulled low over his eyes in what was pretty obvious confusion.

Peter took a deep breath and then followed it with another, doing his best to calm his still-racing heart and stop the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You can smash as much as you want, big guy, but only smash the robots!”

“Hulk smash bots!” he roared, and the obvious glee in his voice made Peter smile behind his mask despite how he still felt. God, could his healing not work just a little bit faster?

“ Good job, buddy!” Peter called, taking a step backwards to rejoin the fight and then changing his mind when his knees protested. “Hey, can you give me a lift?”

Hulk tilted his head to the side, looking for all the world like a confused puppy, which was definitely adorable. “Lift?”

“Yep!” Peter called. His left arm twitched at his side and he raised it without a conscious thought, the web he fired catching an advancing robot on the 'head'. He yanked down, smashing the bot into the street hard enough that its head cracked open. Perfect. “Karen, switch to bullet-webs for now,” Peter said under his breath, and then louder as he pointed across the street, “Can you throw me onto that roof?”

Hulk was quiet for a moment before letting out a deep “okay” that was more rumble than word. Peter smiled, though he knew it couldn't be seen through his mask. Hulk crouched even closer, shooting Peter’s heartbeat skyrocketing despite himself. Still, he stepped onto the cradle of Hulk's hand when he held it out flat down near the ground, clearly intending for Peter to step into it.

It was easy to steady himself when he could stick to the guy’s skin. He crouched down even as he took deep, even breaths that barely did anything to calm his racing heart but still gave him something to focus on. Once Peter was steadied he gave Hulk a thumbs up, and the big guy swung his arm up and over his head. Peter jumped, using the momentum from Hulk’s lift to launch himself through the air. He somersaulted mid-way, urging himself forward as he approached the rooftop of the building he was aiming for.

His foot just hit the edge of the building and he leaned forward, using his momentum to carry him over the raised edge before sinking to the ground. He took another deep breath, desperately trying to get his heart rate under control and calm the uneasy fluttering of his stomach. Panic laced his thoughts, moving lower to grip him tightly around his chest even as he laid out on the roof’s floor and spread out his limbs under the bright sun and open air. 

He was fine. H-he was fine. Peter looked up at the sky and it helped to remind him that he wasn't stuck, that he wasn't being weighed down, that he could move and he could breathe and he—he was okay. Nothing was crushing him under an indescribable force. His bones weren’t being broken faster than they could heal. He was fine.  

“Peter, your heart rate is elevated,” Karen told him urgently, and Peter let out a broken laugh that cut through his throat, sitting up so he could hang his head down between his knees and keep breathing deeply. 

It only took him a few more minutes before his deep breaths actually felt like they were filling his chest and that air was reaching his lungs. On his next inhale he breathed in until his chest burned and then let it out slowly.

When he finally stood, he rose on shaking feet and weak knees, but he still stood. 

“Your fingers are still healing and I would advise against further combat,” Karen told him once he was upright, and not for the first time Peter was sure that he heard emotion in her voice—concern, this time—though he shook his head.

“I'm okay,” he muttered under his breath as he took stock of his body. He could feel his healing working, aware of the way it was knitting his bones back together by the way his fingers were going stiff and tight before relaxing again. 

His panic attack had halted the physical healing until he calmed down but it was only a matter of minutes before he could bend and straighten his fingers with ease. Seconds after that his knees felt solid underneath him. Rolling his shoulders back ensured they were fine as well. With one last breath, Peter jumped backwards, falling through the air and landing lightly on the roof of a car.

Crouching low, Peter’s eyes took in the series of robots that were still milling about all around him, climbing over their wrecked companions as they surged through the streets. 

“I'm okay,” Peter whispered to himself, allocating one last second to breathe before he crouched low and focused his senses in an effort to keep himself from getting overwhelmed. 

Finally, Peter launched himself backwards, flipping off the car and soaring through the air. He landed on the shoulders of a larger sized robot (which, when did that happen) and brought his elbow down viciously, smashing through the metal faceplate without a moment of hesitation. He raised his arm on instinct and fired a series of condensed bullet-webs that sent a handful of smaller bots wheeling away and smashing to the ground. 

Leaning back, he narrowly missed being impaled by a flying robot hand holy shit. He straightened back up, using his momentum to somersault forward and landing square on his feet to immediately punch through the chest of another bot.

Hand to hand was not Peter's specialty, but it was easy enough to send the robots flying with a single, super-powered punch. He put his body weight behind each one, letting his strength out in a way he wasn't often able to. He’d never go after a human villain the way he was going after these robots. It felt good, not having to hold himself in or monitor his strength the way he always had to do. It was exhilarating, and he continued to push himself as fast as he could, whirling around as he took out hordes of robots with webs and fists.

They didn't seem to be stopping or slowing down, no matter how many Peter went through. Swearing to himself, Peter jumped into the air and swung further down the street to get out of the pile of destroyed robots he was in. Damn, he’d gone through so many but it didn’t even seem to make a dent. 

Peter sucked in a sharp breath when he noticed the large robot coming his way. Crap, that... was not good. It was the biggest robot that he’d seen, towering at least fifteen feet tall. Peter didn’t waste a second before he was swinging forward and webbing its legs together. He swung around the robot in a wide arch, shooting out webs and wrapping long streams of webbing around its legs. 

Swinging his legs up, Peter got another burst of speed that he used to propel himself around the robot one last time before angling himself towards the street. Peter landed in a crouch and flexed his feet to stick them to the pavement. Bracing himself, he pulled strongly, straining until the robot toppled over. As the robot was careening towards the ground Peter was jumping into the air and gliding over it, webbing its arms to the street to stop it from getting up.

“Spider-Man?” Peter turned towards the disapproving voice as he straightened up, surprised to find Captain America addressing him.

Huh. Peter crouched down, much more comfortable in a defensive position even if it might not look like one to others. The last time he had seen the great Captain, they’d been fighting each other on opposite sides of the battle that tore the Avengers apart. Now, Captain America’s face was pulled down into an angry frown under his cowl. 

Whatever. Captain America could look at him as angrily as he freaking wanted. What Peter did know about Captain America and his part in the “Civil War” (so dubbed by popular media and totally ridiculous) wasn’t good. From the few things that had been said by Tony and Happy in Peter’s range of hearing, the biggest conflict had been between the Captain and Tony Stark. 

He wasn't going to give him the benefit of the doubt now, not when he knew that Tony didn't feel safe in his own home because of him. Well, at least Peter was pretty sure that's how Tony felt. Super-hearing and an AI best friend both had their perks, but he wasn’t totally sure since Tony tended to keep his feeling close to his chest and guarded by iron. 

“Did you want something, Cap?” Peter asked, cocking a brow behind his mask when the man’s frown deepened. 

“What are you doing here?” Captain America asked angrily and shifted until he was standing with his hands on his hips, shoulders squared and looking every bit of intimidating superhero that he was. 

Ugh. Okay, apparently he didn’t just do that in teaching videos. Rolling his eyes, Peter didn't say anything for a minute so he could turn his whole body around and look back at the robot he had just taken down. With his voice as deadpan as he could make it, he said, “I'm fighting.”

“We don't need any help, kid. You shouldn't be here,” he told him condescendingly and Peter rolled his eyes under his mask again. God, he was so patronizing.

Peter once again looked back to the robot he had just taken down as his mind flashed to the woman he’d saved, and rolled his eyes again. “Duly noted,” he parroted back, lacing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could push into it.

Peter hadn't seen any of the other Avengers, even if he knew they were out there somewhere. It was strange for them all to be fighting at once but now that Peter was down on the streets and trying to deal with the robots himself, he understood why they were there. These robots literally had no chill. Peter shot a bullet web out and took out a robot that had been right behind Captain America, who whirled around with an outraged noise before he spotted the steaming scrap of metal Peter had taken out for him. 

Just as Captain America was spinning back around, his mouth already open, Hulk roared loudly enough that it shook the street. Peter turned towards the noise, focusing on the blur of green that was still smashing robots—and cars—to pieces.

“You should probably make sure he doesn't hurt anyone,” Peter told him and then didn’t bother waiting for the Captain to respond. 

He launched himself upwards from his crouched position, backflipping through the air in a move that was purely for show. As soon as his feet hit the ground he was throwing out a web, launching himself away from Captain America and twirling through the air dramatically. He took out robots even as he moved through the streets, heart racing with adrenaline as robots just kept coming and coming and coming. 

“What are you doing here, kid?” Tony's voice crackled through his mask and Peter looked up in time to catch him flying overhead, his suit glistening in the sun. Honestly, Peter couldn't say he was surprised that Tony had waited until he was done speaking with the Captain before he said anything.

“Just helping out!” he called, jumping over a robot the length of a car. He landed in a crouch, muttered “laser web” and fired, holding on to the webbing until the bot was nothing but a charred, smoking pile of metal. “Do we know where they keep coming from?”

“They seem to be spilling out of the truck,” Tony told him and Peter spun his head around when Karen directed him, finding himself near the building he’d first landed on and much closer to the truck than he'd realized after getting away from Captain America.

Huh, alright. 

“Got it!” Peter called, throwing out his arm and shooting a web, pulling tight and using it to slingshot himself forward. 

It was easy enough to swing over the piles of metal that were littering the New York streets which had become a sea of half-dead and still-moving robots. There wasn't much fighting happening over here even though it would have been closest to the initial crash site, but Peter could still easily hear the sound of battle from around him. 

Perching on the side of a building, Peter stuck his palm to the wall and held himself steady as he switched to grenade-webs. The truck was still smoking an odd, green-tinted smoke that was rising in a thick column, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when Peter first arrived. The opening seemed wider than it’d been when Peter had first seen it and bots were spilling out lethargically, slowly pulling themselves out of the wreckage and spilling onto the street.

They were clearly not very smart. Peter was a little miffed that Doom sent out what were essentially stupid attack dogs, especially when the resulting battle had caused as much as this one had caused so far. Karen was running new statistics in the corner of his vision and the amount of damage was astronomical. Peter took a deep breath, letting his mask zoom in so he could get a better look at the carved-out whole on the truck’s side.

 “Uh, Karen?” Peter asked, briefly wondering why she’d been so quiet for the last little bit when she generally chatted with him as he was fighting.

“Yes Peter?” she asked back, as prompt as ever. It made him smile under his mask, just a small twist of his lips.

“Do you think filling the truck with webbing would work to stop whatever the heck is generating the robots?”

There was a brief pause before, “There is a ninety-three-percent chance that your plan will work,” Karen told him clearly. Peter mentally fist-bumped, feeling a little flush of pride that his plan was going to work.

With Karen's help, it was easy to aim exactly where he needed the webs to go and he held himself steady as he started to fire grenade-webs into the truck’s hole, little strings of stray webbing flying through the air. With his enhanced hearing, Peter could hear the metal ting every time one of the tiny, metal beads hit the inside of the truck and burst open to spray out mass amounts of webbing. He didn't stop, not until webbing was spilling out and filling the truck, each little grenade-web having exploded open to fill the whole truck with his webbing.

He switched to a heavier webbing with a single word with Karen and shot over the opening, reinforcing the webbed-in entrance to ensure that no more robots would be able to get out. Jumping off the building, he landed lightly near the truck and began picking off the remaining few stray robots; it was easy to rip them apart and easier still to web them down. With a decisive nod, he left the rest for the Avengers, slingshotting himself into the sky so he could perch on a roof’s edge and watch as the rest of the robots were dealt with.

“Good job, kid,” Tony praised him, sounding genuinely proud, smile evident in his voice.

Peter fought down a blush at the praise, ignoring the way his cheeks felt warm while still letting a smile stretch across his lips happily. “Thank you.”

“Why don't you head out? I'll see you for dinner this weekend, right?” Tony asked in a way that made Peter feel warm. 

He’d never get over the fact that the man he had spent so many years looking up to was checking in with him to make sure he would still be attending their weekly dinner night. Hell, the fact that they had a weekly dinner night was mind-blowing enough, even if it was a tradition they’d been observing for nearly two years. 

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'll be there!” Peter chirped, jumping off the roof’s edge and beginning his trip back to his apartment, following the random, drawn-out route Karen outlined to help ensure that no one would be able to follow him. 

There was a moment of silence wherein Tony was most likely fighting, before he asked, “And you're bringing that pretty Aunt of yours, right?”

“Yes, Tony, I’ll bring May,” Peter told him laughing, even though he wasn't completely sure whether or not Tony was kidding.

Sure, May might have come with him every now and again, but other than a few off-hand comments when they’d first met, Tony had never made any sort of move on her. Tony was a flirt, something that was well ingrained in his reputation for a reason. Hell, Peter had seen Tony flirt with super-villains in the past. It really might not mean anything but... 

But, sometimes Peter caught him staring a bit too long—and so did May, if the way she’d start to blush meant anything.

“Get home safe, kid,” Tony told him, and the “you too, Dad” was on the tip of his tongue before Peter bit into his own lip to keep the words in. Nope. Nope, that was not something that Peter was ever going to say to Tony.

Instead, he replied in kind, asking Karen to switch off his comms as he swung home.

Peter landed lightly on his fire escape, balancing on his toes with barely a sound. He didn't crawl inside his window like he normally would, making no move forward. He didn't want to show that this was his apartment. Something was causing him to feel off, an uneasy feeling sitting in the back of his throat, thrumming along his temple, that he couldn't get rid of. He tried to remember just when it had started but he couldn't, not when he was still hopped-up on adrenaline from the fight. 

His skin felt too tight, stretched thin over his bones in a way that had his heart racing.

After a bit more thought Peter realized that he'd felt like this for the entire trip home. Swearing, he spun around and let his instincts take over as he pointed his hand down and shot a web. Eyes widening in surprise, Peter let out a noise of surprise when he saw the metal fist that was now stuck to the building across from him. Peter cocked his head to the side, mask zooming in for him as Karen confirmed the man's identity in his ear.

Peter dropped to the street and landed with his knees crossed, taking a small, slow step forward, wondering what the hell James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was doing following him home from a fight that Peter hadn't even seen him at.

“Um, did you follow me?” Peter asked, debating with himself on what to do next. He'd never spoken with the Winter Soldier before—not counting the barbs they had traded during the fight at the hanger—and he wasn't sure how to react to knowing the man had followed him home and, probably, knew where he lived.

The man didn't say anything, opting to stare at Peter unblinkingly, his lips twisted down into a scowl that was visible since he wasn’t wearing his usual mouth covering. The way he was watching Peter was more than a bit disconcerting, especially because Peter had no idea what the man wanted, why he was here, or how he had followed him home. It wasn't that he was scared, knowing that despite his past he was now an Avenger who signed the Accords and followed laws, as much as he was worried. 

He just really didn't want to fight him and he really didn't want to have to worry about the Winter Soldier knowing where he and May lived, signed Accords or not. 

He stopped just outside of the Soldier's reach, feeling uneasy at being as close as he was. The hair along the back of his neck was on end just from being so close, and Peter tried not to let it show, keeping his back straight and his limbs relaxed. Even still, he was hyper-focusing on the... hero? assassin? that was standing in front of him. The Soldier did nothing but stare back unblinkingly (which, damn, didn’t he need to blink, like, ever?) and Peter tried to ignore the growing unease that was settling in his belly. 

He was fine. He was going to be fine.

“You were a threat,” Winter finally told him, his words rumbling thickly out of his chest, voice scratchy from obvious disuse. Wow, okay, that was threatening. 

“Excuse me?”

“With the Cap—Steve. With Steve, you were a threat,” the man’s eyebrows were pulled down over his face and Peter couldn't help but think that his exaggerated pout was a little cute. Sure, he was a murderous assassin, but he was still kinda hot. 

“Yeah, well, those were special circumstances, dude. It wasn't like we wanted to fight you guys,” Peter said, some of the unease dissipating at the confused look that crossed Winter’s face as some of the tension in his body eased.

“But Steve said—”

“I'm sure Captain said a lot of things, but there's always two sides to a story,” Peter cut in, not at all wanting to hear about what Steve Rogers may have said about Tony. There was a reason Peter didn't like him, after all.

“I—you were a threat,” Winter repeated. He looked so lost and sounded so confused that Peter's heart ached for him. He couldn't even imagine what it must have been like to go through all everything that he had, to commit horrors under somebody else's control and never be able to do anything about it. The fact that he was even willing to still be a hero, to still fight, was... well, it was pretty impressive. 

Peter took another step forward and in a moment of probably-reckless bravery, pulled off his mask and raised out a hand. “I'm Peter. What's your name?“

“Uh, it is... it is Bucky?“ Winter’s voice raised at the end as he stared at Peter’s hand intently. Peter had to wonder if this was the first time that Winter had told someone his name. 

“You don't sound so sure, dude?” Peter asked, not dropping his hand until Winter held his out and shook it. He kept his grip loose and body language open, an easy smile pulling at his lips as he looked up into Winter’s dark eyes, surrounded by black eye-makeup.

“They all call me Bucky,” was said with the same lost, confused tone of voice that made Peter want to take home a terrifying, grown man and cuddle him until he felt better.

“Oka—ay, but what do you want to be called? Because I keep calling you Winter in my head, and I'm not quite sure if that's what you want,” Peter told him as he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The other man didn't say anything for a while, and silence stretched between them. Peter waited as Winter seemed deep in thought, not wanting to disrupt whatever it was the man was seemingly working through. He didn’t have anywhere to rush off to since he was still supposed to be in school, so he stood still with his arms resting at his sides and watching Winter. It hurt, seeing someone so openly struggling with something like telling him his name. At the same time, Peter was sure he wasn't meant to see any of this and that if Winter knew he was being so expressive he would shut down.

Peter waited patiently, watching as a series of emotions played out of the man's face. He finally settled on something... not happy, really, but less conflicted than what Peter had seen so far. A tension eased out of his shoulders, and it made Peter happy in a way he hadn't been expecting. Winter wasn't a friend, wasn't anything close to being a friend, but Peter was as happy for him as if he was.

“I'd like to be called James,” he finally decided on and Peter felt a huge smile pull at his lips.

“Alright, James,” Peter told him happily, reaching out his hand for another handshake now that he could officially greet him. “It's nice to meet you.”

“You too,” James said, and Peter ignored how his voice raised at the end, making it sound more like a question than it was probably meant to be. His smile still didn’t waiver, feeling incredibly happy for someone he barely knew. 

“So,” Peter began, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, “why exactly did you follow me home?”

“You were a threat,” James told him plainly and at Peter's questioning frown he went on. “I don’t know who you are or anything about you. That made you a threat to me and the people I care about. I need to know more about you.”

“Oh,” Peter breathed, a question bouncing about his head that he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer to. He couldn't help the way he was starting to like James and he only hoped the other man would like him back. “Uh, am I still a threat?”

The smile on James' face was small, barely tugging up the corner of his lips, but it was gorgeous for the way it transformed his entire face. The way his whole expression relaxed made him look like a completely different person, younger and lighter, and Peter couldn't help but grin back at him. “Nah, not anymore.”

“Oh,“ Peter repeated, but this time his tone was the complete opposite of what it’d been before. A smile stretched over his face and he didn't try to pull it down, especially when James smiled back at him, small but sure.

“Thank you,” James said, and Peter titled his head.

“For what?“

“No one has asked me what I would like to be called before,” James told him, and while Peter could have guessed that was the case, the confirmation still made his heart ache.

“I'm sorry,” Peter told him, and he meant it. He couldn't even imagine what James had been through but even more than that, he couldn’t even imagine how hard it must be for him now that everything was over and everyone had expectations of him. “If—” Peter began, tripping over his own words with nervous energy, “if you ever want to do something, or, like, hang out? Maybe? I don't know what your schedule is like, of course, but if you ever wanted to do something or have someone to spend time with that wasn’t one of the Avengers I would be happy, like so happy, if you wanted, to—”

“Could you show me around?” James cut him off to ask him eagerly, and Peter let out a little sigh of relief. “New York is nothin' like it used t' be.”

“Sure!” Peter said, forcing himself to stand still and not excitedly hop in place. “Do you want my number? You could text me when you're free.”

“Uh,” James started, trailing off before he stared at the ground awkwardly. Peter realized that the man's hand was still stuck to the wall and he quickly walked forward to get him unstuck, pulling a tube of dissolvent off his waist to pour over the webs keeping him stuck to the wall. “Thanks,” James told him once he was free, using his metal hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I... uh, I don't know my phone number?”

“Oh!” Peter exclaimed and immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. God, he was not usually this ridiculous. Stupidly attractive assassins. “Here, if you give me your phone, I can give you my number?”

“Alright.”

James pulled his phone out of one of the many, many pockets that adorned his attire and handed it over to Peter easily. The sign of trust made him smile again, and Peter swiped the phone open before going to the contact app. It was quick work to add his name and number and he sent himself a text so he could do the same for James before handing his phone back.

“Here, I sent myself a text so I have your number too,” Peter told him, the easy smile still pulling at his lips.

“I... alright. Thank you, Peter,” James said with a heaviness to his voice that made Peter think he was talking about more than just his offer to show the man around the city.

“I should probably go,” Peter told him, taking a half step back but offering a smile. “Text me whenever you want, okay? I always have my phone on me!”

Before Peter could embarrass himself any further— really, text me whenever you want? Goddammit, Parker, he's an Avenger what were you thinking— he flung his arm back, shooting out a web and pulling it taught, sling-shooting himself backward. He didn't look back as he climbed into his window, stepping out of his suit even as he asked himself what the hell he’d just done by befriending the Winter Soldier.

Chapter Text

Peter yawned widely, slowly climbing the front steps of his school, and cursed the fact that he could feel so tired even with superpowers. It didn't make any sense to him: he could climb up walls and stop moving cars, but dare he get less than four hours of sleep and it felt like he was going to die. Peter was pretty sure that his super-healing should have done something about how tired he always felt, but nope. He could only wish to be so lucky.

The school was busy—Midtown always was—filled with bright students who looked strongly towards their futures (at least, that’s what their promotional material said). If his life-changing spider bite had done nothing else, it had at least improved his balance and coordination and Peter could make his way through crowded hallways without worrying about getting toppled over. 

(Of course, it also helped that if someone knocked into him they were more likely to get knocked down than Peter was.)

Peter got to his locker easily enough, twirling the dial of his lock as he blearily blinked down at the numbers even as he worked on autopilot. If asked, Peter would have no idea which exact numbers he was trying to hit, but a firm tug—though just a regular amount of firm, no super-strength here—got the lock opened. Slipping his bag from his shoulder he unloaded his books, piling them neatly into his hanging locker organizer before dropping the empty bag to the bottom.

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, Peter clicked it on for the fourth time that morning. All that met him was his screen saver—a fun, colourful picture of Iron Man and Spider-Man he’d found online—but no notifications waiting for him. Frowning, he placed his phone on the top shelf and told himself to stop being so silly. It was fine that James hadn't texted him yet. Hell, it was normal that James hadn't texted him yet. It’d only been, like, twelve hours and most of the hours were night hours, so they didn’t even count. 

But, even knowing that, Peter couldn't stop the little thrill of worry that climbed up his spine and made his chest feel tight every time he checked his phone and didn’t have a notification.

He felt so foolish worrying about someone like the Winter Soldier, but he couldn't help it. All he could think of was how grateful James had sounded yesterday, how he’d looked like Peter was giving him some sort of gift, just by letting the man choose his own identity, just because Peter asked him his name. 

Had no one asked him that? That was what it had seemed like, since James had been so surprised when Peter asked him what he wanted to be called that he’d had to think about his answer. It still broke his heart, thinking that somebody who had been forced to be someone else for so long could possibly have the same done to him by people he called friends.

If he was going by Bucky even if it didn’t fit... did that mean the Captain was the one forcing him into an identity that he didn’t want? Goddammit, Peter let out a long sigh as he told himself that he absolutely did not have enough time to be worrying about this, especially since it wasn’t even eight in the morning. Hell, he didn’t know enough to be making assumptions like that anyway. 

Rolling his shoulders, Peter started an internal mantra of, “He’s fine. He’s an assassin. He’s been trained to kill people. He’s fine.” On his fourth run through, he grabbed his phone from the top shelf of his locker and checked it again. 

Still, nothing. 

Damn. Alright, that was fine. Peter was fine, and James was definitely fine, even though he had followed Peter home and reached out to him, looking lost and sounding even worse, not even knowing his name. That... there was something about that which bothered Peter to no end, especially having read all the official and not-so-official documentation surrounding the Winter Soldier when James first became an Avenger (James wasn’t the only one who’d seen the other as a threat).

James had made it pretty clear that he would be texting Peter. It was possible, very possible, that James had never texted anyone before. Peter considered that he might not even know how, and then it wasn’t like he was ignoring Peter, he was just trying to figure out his phone. Yes. Yes, alright, that seemed like a pretty solid idea that Peter told himself again and again even while he checked his phone just to still not have any new messages. 

He knew he was overreacting, it was just... James had reached out to him, in a way. He’d followed Peter home and he’d looked so lost and Peter—he knew that James wasn’t his responsibility. He knew that he didn’t have to care about his well-being after they’d shared no more than a single conversation but... he couldn’t help but feel a little responsible. 

All he wanted was to make sure that James was okay. 

But James had said that he would text and Peter had to believe he would when he was ready, when he wanted to, whenever that was. It didn’t make him feel any calmer, but he tried to push away the anxious feeling closing around his throat as he breathed deeply and slowly, once again surprised by just how much he seemed to care about someone who, really, was nothing more than a stranger.

Before he could do something infinitely silly like check his phone again, Peter's fingers cramped as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He had to roll his shoulders very gently to calm the flight or fight instinct that was tensing his entire body as he stood in front of his locker. The last thing he needed was to do something like jump onto the ceiling out of reflex, so he slipped his phone into his pocket and grabbed the books he would need for his morning classes before he started counting down from five under his breath.

“Hey, Peter!” Ned called enthusiastically from inches next to his ear, loud and sudden enough that Peter would have jumped if his senses weren’t pinging ‘ threat’ from having someone so close at his back. A small smirk pulled his lips up as his senses finally calmed down now that Ned had identified himself—seriously his best friend was the least threatening person Peter knew—and he stayed completely still, not even letting his breath hitch. 

Ned let out a long sigh and Peter could perfectly imagine his frown as he said, “You're no fun anymore, man.”

Peter turned with a smile already on his face. “Maybe you're just not as good at sneaking around as you always thought you were?”

“Uh, or you just have an unnameable advantage that no one else has?”

Peter tilted his head as if he was considering it. “Yeah, you're probably right,” he agreed while nodding, closing his locker door before securing his lock. He turned to face Ned fully, his lips pulling up into a full smile at the sight of his best friend. “How are you?”

“I'm fine,” Ned said, and Peter saw the lingering worry around his friends' eyes and knocked their shoulders together as they began down the hallway. “I grabbed your clothes yesterday but I left them at home for you.”

Which was fair, considering the number of people that already thought he and Ned were dating. Ned bringing him a bag of worn clothes probably wouldn’t look the best. 

“Thank you for getting my stuff, dude. You have no idea how much of a help it is when you do that,” Peter told him genuinely. Ned seemed to do for Peter whatever it was that he needed, whenever he needed it, and he would never stop being thankful for having a friend as amazing as Ned.

“I'm just fulfilling my guy in the chair duties,” Ned murmured, but Peter caught the hint of a smile that pulled up his best friend's lip and soaked up the warmness in his chest.

Peter stayed quiet as they walked, letting Ned fill him in on the goings-on of his life. There wasn't much to tell, considering they saw each other every day, but he did listen intently as Ned updated him on the guild he was a part of. Just because he didn't have time for video games didn't mean that he didn't like hearing about them and Peter knew that Ned spent about as much time online as Peter did out patrolling.

And just because they spent their time doing different things didn’t mean that Ned’s hobbies were any less important than Peter’s own. Sometimes, when he was down and tired and it all felt like too much, Peter imagined what it would be like to still just be a regular teenager. To not have any of the power or the responsibility that came along with it. At least when he was with Ned, he could pretend that he could still have time for things as fun and carefree as video games.

They sat in their usual lab seats, letting the class fill up around them as they discussed the pros and cons of using a tank versus a mage for raids. When their teacher walked in they naturally switched to whispering, getting themselves set up for class by familiar routine. The beginning of class was spent going over their homework, which was just a review of their lesson from the day before, which meant that Peter and Ned spent it talking, whispering to one another as they pretended to pay attention to review.

“So, what happened yesterday?” Ned asked him excitedly even as his voice got even quieter than the low murmur he had been speaking in. 

The question was one that Peter had been expecting since Ned first appeared behind him. Ned always checked in with him, even if it had been a boring night of uneventful patrol, of course he would check in after an actual battle. While Peter didn’t need to lean in to hear him, not with his enhanced senses, but he still tilted his head to the side so when he finally answered Ned would be able to hear him better, appreciating how quiet Ned was being. 

Peter sighed as he recounted the fight, rolling his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of what had happened even as he explained, “I guess Doctor Doom unleashed a bunch of, like, mindless robots in the city? There was a giant truck that flipped over, and robots were just spewing out of it. That was where the smoke cloud had come from.”

“Dude! Doctor Doom?” Ned whispered back heatedly, turning his face to give Peter a look of pure excitement before turning back to face the front of the class again. 

“Yeah, that's what Karen told me. I didn't see him or anything, just all the damn robots. I didn't stay as long as the others ‘cause I left after dealing with the truck,” Peter whispered back, pretending to write in his notebook as their teacher prattled on.

“Why not? What did you do?” 

Peter felt his face start to warm when he remembered the day before, especially what had happened when he first arrived. But it was just Ned, and it wasn't like they didn't tell each other embarrassing things every day anyway. “Uh, well when I first got there I sort of fell onto a roof.”

“What? How did you do that? How do you fall onto a roof?” Ned asked him quickly. Peter could see how he was trying not to laugh, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Landing is really hard, okay?” Peter asked incredulously, ignoring Ned's additional murmur of “that's why you need to let me help you practice” as he kept going, “But! After that, I saved this civilian and met the Hulk, and he threw me onto the roof—”

“What do you mean the Hulk threw you onto a roof ? ” Ned whisper-shouted, his eyes going wider than Peter had ever seen them before.

“Um, exactly that dude!” Peter told him in his own too enthusiastic whisper-shout, his voice getting loud enough that the teacher called his name with an annoyed look on his face. He sent the man an apologetic look, mouthing a “sorry” as he angled himself a little further from Ned to at least pretend he was paying attention.

Only a few minutes had passed before Ned was leaning closer and whispering, “How did that even happen?”

“Well,” Peter started before launching into a retelling of the previous afternoon. 

He told Ned all about his crash landing, letting Ned snicker at him without getting upset. He knew that Ned wasn't making fun of him but laughing with him. He told Ned about how Karen had alerted him to the civilian and how she’d almost been crushed before he’d jumped in front of her right in time to catch Hulk's fist. He went into detail about how his fingers had fractured, the bones in his hands needing time to heal and how he had asked Hulk to throw him up onto a roof so he could take a second to heal. 

Peter couldn't hold down the smile that stole over his face when he thought about the way Hulk had acted like a confused and adorable puppy.

“That is so cool,” Ned gushed, staring at Peter with even wider eyes. He felt his face go warm as something twisted in his belly. He knew that Ned got really excited over these things, but Peter really didn't think it was anything too special. Sure, it was cool; the little boy who looked up to Iron Man as the greatest thing in the world thought it was awesome, but it was different in the moment, when he was the one there. “What did you do after that?”

Peter took a deep breath and pushed away the uneasy feeling in his stomach. “Well, once my fingers healed I went back down and kind of just beat up some robots? I had this weird moment with Captain America—” “Holy crap Captain America talked to you?” “—that was kind of strange. Like, he was trying to tell me that I shouldn't be there? He was acting like some sort of angry Dad, which is totally Tony’s job and not his, ya know? He doesn’t even know who I am! And besides, I wasn’t just going to leave when people needed help and I was able to help them? So then I destroyed some more robots.”

“Wow,” Ned said with so much feeling that Peter chuckled quietly, ducking his head when his teacher caught his eye.

He sent Ned a smile but then turned his focus back to the front of the room where their teacher had begun the lesson for the day. Peter liked talking about this stuff with Ned, really, but sometimes it left an odd feeling in the back of his throat, a strange uneasiness sitting in the pit of his stomach, a twitch in his fingers. To Ned, everything that Peter did when out as Spider-Man was fun and exciting. It was riveting for him to hear about Peter’s “adventures.”

And even though Peter knew that Ned really did worry about him when he was out, it was different.

Ned really was the guy in the chair. He was never out there, in the heat of a fight of patrolling the streets at night. He... he was never the reason someone lived or not. He would never be the one who was too slow, or too weak, or just not enough. Every time Peter stepped into his suit, every single time he put his mask on, fear raced up his spine as he thought about all the things that could go wrong, all the people who get hurt, all the lives that could be lost, all because of him. 

There was so much that Peter was always so, so worried about. Every single time he went out, people’s lives were in his hands. Their well-being was his responsibility and sometimes... well, sometimes he wasn’t enough. But he couldn't just do nothing. If someone got hurt because he didn’t take action or because he was too afraid to step in... well, that would be even worse than if he had at least tried . 

He had this unimaginable power. Power that was so much, much more than he knew what to do with, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. He couldn’t. Not when great power came with great responsibility. 

Peter startled when the bell rang, the loud screech pulling him from his thought spiral. He cussed mentally, hastily packing up his bag as he realized that he’d spent the entire lesson zoning out. He was just glad that he had his mask in his bag and that, worst case, he could ask Karen to replay the audio for him that night. 

Moving quickly so it wouldn’t seem like he’d just clued back in after spending the entire class lost in his own thoughts, he followed Ned out of the classroom and into the bustling halls, trusting the other boy to lead them to their next class.

“What a year,” Ned told him as they left the class and started walking side-by-side, bumping their shoulders together.

“Yeah,” Peter murmured back, and then took a deep breath and did his best to shake off his morbid mood. There was no point in thinking about all that now, especially when he needed to focus during school so he wouldn’t fall any further behind than he already was. “It hasn't been too crazy. Usually my nights are not that exciting,” Peter reminded him, but Ned shook his head.

“Dude, no way. Our lives are crazy,” Ned said emphatically, and Peter nodded along as he didn’t have enough energy to argue, “Not only are we graduating in less than two months, but you're a freaking superhero! Freshman Ned never thought that we would be living such exciting lives.”

Peter laughed, looking over at his friend with a full heart. Despite everything that they’d gone through over the last two years, he still had Ned’s endless enthusiasm at his side. Yep, he'd lucked out. “Me neither, man, me neither.”

After just over a year of visiting Tony almost every day, Peter no longer walked into Stark Tower (the press had had a field day when the logo on the tower hadn’t changed back to the obnoxious “A” even though the “team” was back together; Peter was glad he’d been able to talk Tony into keeping it) with the same wide-eyed, awed sort of reverence that he had for the first handful of months of their “internship.” But, even as used to the glitz and glam of the Tower as he was, the elevator ride up to Tony's personal level would always leave him a bit breathless with excitement.

Even being Spider-Man, being Iron Man's unofficial protégé, nothing made Peter as happy as being able to say that he was friends with Tony Stark. He wasn't sure if Tony would say the same or if he would put the same label on their relationship that Peter used, but he knew that Tony cared about him. Of course, the man still treated him like a child, but he cared, and that meant more to Peter than any superhero business ever would.

He’d looked up to Iron Man since he first appeared on television, flying around in a gleaming suit of metal that was an engineer’s dream, but he’d looked up to Tony Stark for years before that. Shutting down the weapons division of Stark Industries had only been possible because, for years before that, Tony had been making changes to the company that were all rarely talked about. 

Green energy, innovative education, cutting edge prosthetics. Stark Industries had been moving into the global industry long before Tony Stark stopped their weapon production, and Peter had followed it all as well as he could as a young child who wanted nothing more than to make the world a better place. Tony was the entire reason that Peter even liked science, and having a chance to get to know that man was the greatest thing that had ever happened to Peter. 

Knowing Tony also came with opportunities he would have never been presented with otherwise and he was endlessly thankful. He knew he’d never be able to even think about paying Tony back for all that he’d been given him and all that he’d allowed him to do and learn, but he would appreciate every single thing Tony did for him, and he would never stop being grateful.

Just this internship alone was an opportunity that no one else would ever have. He knew that personally interning with Tony Stark would carry a considerable amount of weight—well, it would carry a considerable amount of weight anywhere other than high school where no one ever believed him—and it would open up a number of doors in his future that he never would have had access to. 

And that was all because of Tony. All because he cared. And when Tony cared for someone, he gave and gave, everything that he could and sometimes then some. Peter was so appreciative and he would never stop trying to pay him back in any way he could, because he’d seen what happened when people took that generosity for granted. Stories he’d heard from Mr. Rhodey had just confirmed his suspicions, and Peter had vowed years ago to never be one of the people who took Tony for granted. 

Humming, he focused on the fact that he could appreciate Tony and be there for him in any way he needed. 

As Peter walked through the Stark tower now, he felt more comfortable than he’d ever been able to imagine during his first few visits. To get to Tony’s personal floors he had to use a specific elevator that took a security badge, passcode, fingerprint and a retina scan just to get the doors to open, and he knew just how few people had access to it. The rock music blaring from the speakers put a smile on his face as he pulled out his phone, leaning back against the glass wall. 

His text tone rang out as he scrolled through Instagram and hope climbed up from his belly, excitement curling along his spine as the notification popped up. Peter deflated when he saw May's name with a message wishing him a good night with Tony, and while it was sweet, it wasn't the text he had been waiting for. Peter thumbed the message open, typing out a reply as he exited the elevator on autopilot once the door’s dinged open. 

He was still typing as he turned a corner, making his way towards Tony’s lounge room to drop off his bag and see if he was there before making his way down to the lab. He swiped back into Instagram, liking a photo MJ posted of a cityscape and starting to type out a comment when— 

Gasping, Peter let out a loud, startled shriek as he collided head-on with someone, stumbling back a step in surprise.

“My apologies,” a man with a nice, soft timbre to his voice said. Peter looked up, his eyes widening in shock as a dark blush painted over his cheeks. He put his phone away, focusing his full attention on that man before him as his heart started racing. 

“Oh. Oh my gosh. Wow, you are. You’re... oh my god you’re D-Dr. Bruce Banner. Sir, I am so sorry. I-I, wow, I wasn't—jeez, I was so not watching where I was going. Uhm, a-are you okay? Please tell me you're okay, oh goodness, I really hope I didn’t hurt you, did I? Did you drop anything? No, okay, that’s good, that’s good. Are you okay?” Peter’s words rushed out of him in one long breath, until he couldn't speak and had to suck in another sharp breath of air as his eyes traced over Bruce Banner’s face, taking in the lines around his eyes and the strong jut of his jaw and the breadth of his shoulders because—

Shit, seriously hot older man alert. 

“I'm alright,” the man—who, holy hell, was Dr. Bruce Banner this was not a drill— told him calmly, much calmer than Peter was who was currently freaking out. Still, Peter felt a little less embarrassed when he saw that the older man's face was flushed pink. His eyes tracked over Peter’s form in a way that made him very glad that most of his shirts bordered on being too tight. “Are you?”

“Oh! Oh, I'm fine. Wow , it's... it's really, really great to meet you, Dr. Banner,” Peter told him seriously, aware that his voice sounded awed but unable to bring himself to care when he was definitely starstruck.

“You know who I am?” Dr. Banner asked him— him!— and Peter nodded his head excitedly, forcing himself to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground to stop himself from hopping in place. That may have been just a little too much. 

“Of course!” Peter gushed, spreading his hands out. “You-you're a genius! Your work on stem cells in relation to gamma radiation is amazing, and your book on evolution was such an excellent read. I—wow, I'm a really big fan of everything you’ve done, sir.”

Peter could feel the heat in his cheeks that made him sure they were burning red, but Dr. Banner's own face was shaded a sweet shade of pink, so he didn't feel too embarrassed about his own blush. He was a little embarrassed about his rambling and all the way he was staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away as he kept fiddling with the hem of his shirt in a nervous tick. Dr. Banner was... something of an idol, really, and Peter was a little—okay, a lot—star-struck.

“Oh,” Dr. Banner breathed, his mouth falling open as he stared at Peter for a long, quiet minute. “And who are you?”

“P-Peter Parker, Dr. Banner, sir,” Peter told him, stuttering over his own words in his excitement, trying to get them out as quickly as possible before Dr. Banner realized that he had no reason to be talking to a random kid and decided to walk away before he could get everything out. 

“Uhm, you can stop calling me sir,” Dr. Banner told him and Peter didn't miss how the flush on his face deepened.

“Alright,” Peter said, still smiling widely and unable to keep it down as he talked to a genius that he looked up to so much. He couldn't help it. He was meeting Bruce Banner, something that he’d dreamed of. No way he was supposed to stay calm, right? “I... could I a-ask you a question?”

Since Peter was avidly watching him, eyes darting around his face and taking in just how handsome he was in person, he saw the tension that jumped to the man’s jaw and the way he squared his shoulders as if he was drawing himself up for a fight. It was definitely not the reaction Peter had been watching for, but the hairs along the back of his neck gently stood on end in warning that the man before him could be a threat. 

“What is the question about?” Dr. Banner asked, but his voice was harder than it’d been only a minute before.

Peter almost changed his mind, almost told Dr. Banner to forget it, or went to ask something else, but he knew that it was likely he would never get a chance like this again. He’d been coming to the tower for two years and this was his first time seeing the scientist. Those weren't very good statistics for running into him again, so with a deep breath, he steeled his nerves. “I-I was wondering, uh, about your work with rad—”

“Hey, kid,” Tony's voice interrupted suddenly and Peter let out another surprised noise when the man threw an arm over Peter's shoulders. Goodness, he hadn’t even realized the man was coming up behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as Tony greeted the other man with a simple, “Banner.”

“Hello, Tony,” Dr. Banner said, and Peter could almost feel the relief that rolled off the man's shoulders as he began backing away. “Sorry, but I need to go. It was nice meeting you... Peter.”

“Oh,” Peter said, eyes flickering between both men and then down to the floor where he spent a second staring at the tiled floors. He heard the disappointment in his own voice, but he still tried for a smile as he looked back up. “Right. It-it was awesome meeting you, sir! No! Dr. Banner, sorry.”

Dr. Banner smiled awkwardly before he turned away, hurriedly walking back the way he’d first been coming from. Peter held it together until he could no longer hear the man walking even as he stretched his hearing before he turned to Tony, his eyes wide with shame. 

“Oh god,” Peter moaned miserably, all but falling against Tony's side as he whined,
“That was so embarrassing!”

“What was?” Tony asked, shifting so that he could hold up Peter's weight more easily. Good, since Peter didn’t think he was anything but weak muscles and embarrassed flailing. Definitely not enough to hold himself up. 

“Kill me. Just end me, Mr. Stark, please,” Peter pleaded, standing on his own with a pout when Tony pushed him up by the shoulders.

Tony looked at him, tilting his head to the side as he studied Peter’s face, which was still warm and no doubt flushed red. “What's up with all the teenage melodrama, huh?”

“I just embarrassed myself so badly in front of Dr. Banner,” Peter told him. He knew how whiny he sounded but he didn't care. His life was over. Literally, nothing that embarrassing had ever happened to him before, and that seriously said something. 

“Oh, with Bruce? How'd you do that, kid?” Tony asked as he began walking. Peter fell into step beside him out of instinct more than wanting to follow—what he wanted was to curl up in a ball of shame and die— hitching his bag higher on his shoulder even as he kept his gaze locked on the floor, too embarrassed to even chance meeting Tony’s gaze.

“I..." Peter began, but then trailed off when he realized he wasn’t even sure what to tell him. 

Actually, he wasn't even totally sure that he wanted to tell Tony why he was so upset over the horribly failed interaction, not really, not with how embarrassing it could potentially be. After all, his initial reaction to Tony wasn't all too different from how he’d just acted in front of Dr. Banner, and he knew if he started talking he wouldn't be able to stop. 

There were some things he was sure Tony didn't want to knowdo, and Peter's previous crush on him might be one of those things. But... he’d never held something back from Tony before—unless it had to do with his health, ‘cause Tony was the worst mother hen—and it felt weird to do it now. 

So he took a deep, steadying breath as he prepared himself for his inevitable embarrassment. “I just got a little overwhelmed,” Peter admitted, not yet looking up. “Dr. Banner is a bit of a... role model, I guess. He’s just someone that I really look up to. He's a genius , and I basically couldn't speak.”

“That doesn't sound too bad,” Tony told him, bumping their shoulders together as they turned down another long hall that would take them to their lab. 

“He’salsoveryattractive,” Peter added in a rush, letting out a long breath that took some of the tightness in his shoulders with it. “I... I may have a little bit of a crush on him, and the way I acted was so embarrassing. But he's just so smart I could hardly even talk! And—and have you seen his eyes! What colour even is that? I'll never be able to redeem myself.”

Tony was silent for a moment before he clapped Peter’s shoulder and said, “Kid, you and me both. That man's brain is... yeah, it's pretty great,” Tony told him, sending him a warm smile. “Now appearance-wise? He's not so much my type, but I guess I could see the appeal if you're into older men.”

Peter blushed, incredibly thankful when Tony kept it at that and didn’t add anything else. Because yes, of course he had a crush on Tony Stark (who didn't, really?), but that was a thing of the past! He knew that Tony was definitely smart enough to realize what he was admitting to by telling him that he had a crush on Dr. Banner, and he was endlessly thankful Tony didn’t make a big deal out of it. 

Nowadays, he didn't think of Tony in any way other than familial, and his past feelings were definitely not something that they needed to discuss. Ever. 

“Thank you,” Peter said heavily, both for letting him talk about the way he was feeling and for ignoring what Peter had basically admitted. “I just... I really wanted to ask him about his work but I think I scared him off by being so awkward and... flaily.”

“Flaily?” Tony laughed, bumping their shoulders together again as they came up to their workshop. They had both had to stop for handprint scans as well as a voice confirmation before the doors would let them, but once they were inside Tony added, “I'm surprised you've never seen him around before.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, tossing his backpack onto the couch shoved into the corner since he hadn’t even made it to the lounge and then moving across the room to where the mini kitchenette was to dig through the fridge. 

Of course, it was probably a good thing that he had never seen Dr. Banner before, if his embarrassing reaction today was anything to do by.

He looked back in time to see Tony shrug as he headed over to his preferred worktable. “He's up here all the time. Banner doesn't much like the others, and even though he has his own floor he says he prefers the lighting up here. I think he just prefers the company, but I'm not going to call him out on it when he wants to pretend he’s all antisocial.”

“Wait, why haven't I ever seen him before?” Peter asked, his voice laced with amusement at the slang Tony used. If there was anything that Peter prided himself on, it was the way he’d affected Tony’s vocabulary. 

He ended up grabbing some leftover pasta and popping it into the microwave as he leaned back against the counter to watch Tony start working. The man shrugged, bringing his holographic screen to light as he sat down. “He's only usually around really early. Like, disgustingly early.”

“Oh,” Peter said quietly. Well, that made sense, since he was always at school in the mornings or, if it was the weekend, catching up on the homework he needed to do before the next week after a long night of patrol. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, just the tapping of Tony’s fingers and the faint buzzing of the microwave before Tony broke it to ask, “Anyway, enough of Banner. How are you?”

Peter could hear the obvious concern in his voice even as he continued tapping away at the keyboard floating above his workbench. Tony cared. It was obvious in all the things he did for Peter and all the things he gave him, but it was always obvious in the tone of his voice and the lines that edged his eyes after time they returned from a mission. It was obvious in the way he was always checking in, the way he had Karen report every injury. 

And now, the way he was leaning towards where Peter was still leaning against the kitchenette counter even while he was typing. The question was a serious one, and Peter knew that Tony wanted a serious answer. So he didn’t say anything right away, knowing Tony wouldn't appreciate it if he did. He wouldn't take a half-assed lie in the place of an honest answer. 

Actually, with everything considered, Peter was a little surprised that he hadn't heard from Tony sooner and that he’d waited until they were together to grill him about the day before—’cause that was definitely what he was asking about, since Peter hadn’t woken up to a missed text or phone call. If Tony had tried to check in last night, Peter probably wouldn't have known what to tell him, considering he still wasn't totally sure about how he felt, especially after retelling the fight to Ned and the way that’d left him feeling so torn up. 

“I'm alright. It wasn't that bad of a fight,” Peter told him, because that was at least true. 

The robots, while plentiful and annoying, had been very easy to take down. Peter had figured they were just a distraction for something more, but Karen had assured him last night that nothing more exciting than clean-up had happened after he left. Yeah... that was Doom.

“What was that little moment you had with Hulk, huh? Do you have a crush on the big guy as well?” Tony asked, and while his voice was teasing, Peter still felt himself blush darkly.

“It was nothing,” he mumbled, turning to grab his container of pasta from the beeping microwave before finally settling at his own seat, if only so that he could turn his back to Tony. 

He shovelled a bite of pasta in his mouth as a perfect excuse for Peter to keep silent. What had happened with Hulk was not something that Peter wanted to think too deeply about. He was still a little shaken up, the feeling of his fingers being crushed staying with him for hours after the fight had ended and he’d gotten home safely. 

“I heard that he almost crushed a civilian?” Tony asked after Peter said nothing. While most people would think that he sounded nothing more than mildly interested, Peter had known him long enough to hear the extra layer to his voice. It wasn't as simple a question as Tony was making it seem, and it rubbed Peter the wrong way.

“It wasn't his fault,” Peter said quickly, voice steady and sure even if he wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about the issue. “She was hiding behind some sort of cart, and Hulk wouldn’t have been able to see her.”

Tony hummed, but he didn't add anything else. Peter shoved some more noodles into his mouth even as he signed in to his secure account, typing in a ridiculous password and then letting his retina be scanned, again. The amount of security was alarming but more than anything else, it broke Peter's heart that Tony felt as though he needed it in his own home. He should feel safe, but Peter knew that wasn't the case, not with the rest of the Avengers living below them.

“You took care of it, though?” While Tony phrased it as a question, Peter was pretty sure it was anything but. 

Tony would have watched every bit of coverage the battle had received the minute he’d been home from the fight, analyzing both the team and Peter. He’d seen it happen enough times in the past to know that it was something Tony needed to do after a fight. Watching their coverage was something of a ritual he practised. Peter was convinced it was half to improve himself (and Peter) and half to keep himself safe by constantly analyzing how the rest of the Avengers fought. 

Peter didn’t say any of that, especially when Tony said, “You could just join the team.”

He sighed, a familiar refusal on the tip of his tongue. It was a conversation that they’d had before, more times than Peter could count ever since the Avengers had been pardoned and everything had seemingly gone back to normal. Nothing had gone back to normal, because the bonds that had been broken during the “Civil War” were still broken. 

Peter was pretty sure that Tony was lonely. Stuck on a team with people he didn’t trust and didn’t feel safe with. But Peter... he just wasn't ready. Hell, he was still in high school, and sure he had helped out here and there, but being a part of the Avengers would mean something more. Something that Peter wasn't sure he was ready for.

Something that Peter wasn't sure he would be able to live up to.

“I want to,” he said honestly, like he did every time they had this talk. 

Being an Avenger would be a childhood dream come true. It would push him from vigilante to superhero. But it would be so much more than Peter had ever experienced before. He already felt like he was drowning more often than he was treading... could he even handle it? “I just... what if they don't take me seriously? I want to be a part of the team, of course I do, but I want them to treat me like a team member. What if they all just treat me like a kid, ya know?”

What if they don't think I'm good enough. What if people look up to me and I fail. What if I can't be what people need me to be. What if I’m not good/strong/fast/just enough? Tony heard it all, every terrified feeling that he would never be able to say in the light of day but had muttered over the years in the safety of night, when they’d each stayed up so late that it was early and Peter felt safe, locked away with technology with no one but his mentor. 

More than just knowing how Peter felt, he knew that Tony understood it. They’d had conversations over the years, off-handed comments mentioned that meant more to Peter than he’d ever know how to express, that made it clear Tony didn't always know everything either. Some days were just harder than others, when you were constantly putting your life on the line. But... 

Peter just wasn’t ready. 

When he didn’t say anything and sat quietly picking at his finger, Tony took a deep breath and said, “Well, you'll have people on your side if you change your mind. You know that I would go to bat for you, and I'm sure you'll have Bruce... along with James.”

Peter spluttered, turning in his chair to gape at Tony incredulously as his previous indecision was forgotten entirely. “A-are you following me?”

“Relax, kid,” Tony said, not bothering to look at him as he continued to work, but the smirk pulling at his lips said it all. “I was just checking on you, I didn't mean to overhear anything.”

“Are you... okay with that?” Peter asked quietly, pulling off a hangnail before studiously going back to eating his pasta. 

Tony let out a heavy breath but said, “You're your own person, kid.”

“I know,” Peter told him, focusing on his work and pulling up the schematics for the project he was working on as he swallowed down another bite of food. “But... I also know what he did to your parents, and I don't want to be friends with him if that upsets you.”

Tony was quiet for a few minutes. Peter didn’t push it, especially since he knew just how much of a sore spot this was. As protective as he felt over James, Tony would come first. Tony would almost always come first, after everything he’d done and been for Peter over the years. He clearly had some thinking to do, so Peter pushed away everything that he was worrying about and focused on the science before him. 

When he spoke, his voice was a touch deeper than it had been a moment ago. “It really is fine. That man last night was not the one who killed my parents, and I shouldn't keep thinking they're the same person.”

“Alright,” Peter said softly, letting the silence grow between them until it became comfortable.

He couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips, or the lightness in his chest. This... it was something he loved almost as much as saving lives. Never in a million years could he have imagined his life turning out like this: hanging out with Tony Stark in his penthouse workshop, collaborating on the math for a project that would, hopefully , assist in the search for renewable energy. Spending time with an amazing, wonderful man who so many misunderstood but Peter was lucky enough to call a friend. 

Peter hummed under his breath, smiling when rock music suddenly blared to life, and it wasn't long before he started to sing along.

Chapter Text

“Peter!” May called, far too loudly for the size of their apartment. Peter grimaced, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow. It was way too early for her to be yelling and Peter groaned as he was forcibly pulled from the last dregs of sleep as she continued to yell. “There’s a man here to see you!”

Peter perked up instantly, rolling off his bed before hopping into his pants and excitedly grabbing a shirt from the pile of these-are-probably-clean clothes that he had shoved into the corner of his room. James had finally texted him two days ago, six days after they had met in the alleyway beside Peter's apartment. They spent a few hours texting back and forth before James had asked Peter if he was serious about showing him around, and Peter had assured him he was.

They’d made plans for that weekend and, now that it was Saturday, James was picking him up for a day of exploring the city. Peter was excited, mostly to be spending the day with James, but also to be getting out of the house. Between school, his work with Tony, and being Spider-Man, it wasn't often that Peter was able to carve out free time devoted to doing something fun. If he ever did, it was time spent with May or Ned. He loved them both, of course he did, but it was exciting to be hanging out with someone new.

Peter's circle was small; for a long time, he only had May and Ned. Now there was MJ, and Tony and Karen (he didn't care what Tony kept telling him about AI’s, they were totally friends), but the group of people he kept close to his heart was something he was selective about. It was too hard with everything that he had going on to bring people into his life when they didn't know, and Peter didn't think it was fair to them either.

He couldn’t be putting people in danger. He’d already done that with Ned knowing and MJ suspecting, ’though she still hadn’t called him out on it. Keeping May in the dark was a last-ditch attempt at keeping someone he loved safe from the craziness that was being Spider-Man, and even that wasn’t going well.

With James, he didn't have to worry about any of that. Not only was James in the know, but he was also a part of the life in such a visceral way that the worries Peter always had around making friends just weren’t applicable to his friendship with James. Tony was amazing and Peter loved him so much, but he was more of a father figure than anything else. They cared about each other, and they got along, and they were friends... but there was the mentorship aspect that was always present between them, and it wasn’t even something that Peter wanted to get rid of. 

And that was why he was so excited that he might be able to make friends with someone he could really relate to. He’d only been talking to James for a little over a day, but Peter already really liked him. It was easy to imagine them getting along, with James' dry sense of humour and curious nature. Once James had gotten the hang of texting—he was literally the slowest texter ever—they had spent hours joking back and forth and talking about the changes New York had made over the last seventy years. 

Today, they were going to be exploring the city together, an offer which Peter had nearly lost all hope of being accepted after six whole days had passed without hearing anything from James. But then James had texted him, and they’d made plans, and today they were going to be exploring the city together! 

He had spent last night planning out things they could do, things that Peter thought were important for James to see, coming from the forties, and he was so excited. Sure, James knew what Brooklyn had been like decades ago, but everything was so different, and Peter had stayed up too late thinking about how overwhelming that must be.

It broke his heart to think about what it must be like for James, to be living in a future he never wanted to be a part of. To have gone to war to serve your country only to face unthinkable horrors at the hands of an evil corporation. And then to have to live with all of that, to live what they’d done to him again and again, only to have to live in a time that must have felt so different from what he’d known before. Honestly... the fact that he was even still going made him the strongest man Peter had ever known. 

He pushed that aside, knowing that he didn’t want to be focusing on that when he saw James. He shoved a smile onto his face as he pushed past the thoughts of James’ past and tried to focus on how excited he was to be hanging out with someone else who had superpowers. 

“I'm coming!” Peter finally called out, just as loud as May had been, with a roll of his eyes. He jammed his feet into his converse as he grabbed his backpack, pulling it open to make sure he had everything. Suit? Wallet? Keys? Energy bars? All check.

It was quick work to get to the living room and May was standing in the kitchen all but bouncing on her toes with a frighteningly large smile on her face. “Who is this man? Are you going out with him?” May asked, and the smile on her face turned outright gleeful . “You haven't told me anything about a boyfriend, young man!”

“ Oh my god, May!” Peter groaned, pushing her off gently when he tried to grab his arm and pull him in closer. “You are so loud, he can probably hear you!”

“Are you embarrassed by me?” May asked, sounding far more upset than Peter knew she actually was. He rolled his eyes and didn't bother responding to his aunt's ridiculousness, which only seemed to do the opposite of what he wanted. “You are, aren't you! Oh Peter, and after everything that I’ve done for you? You would still keep it a secret? This is just heartbreaking!”

Peter shook his head, unable to keep down the smile that pulled at his lips or the laugh that bubbled out of his throat when May pretended to swoon. She may have been ridiculous, but Peter loved her. “He's not my boyfriend, oh my god.”

“Good, because he's entirely too old for you,” May said, a touch of seriousness bleeding into her humorous tone. “A hundred is a bit older than I would be comfortable with you dating.”

“Oh, you know who he is?” Peter asked, giving up on getting to the door without having this conversation. He let out another, loud sigh before walking over to the counter and breaking a banana off the bunch. If he was stuck here for a little bit longer he might as well eat something for breakfast.

“I don't live under a rock, mister. Of course I know who the Winter Soldier is. What do you take me for, an old lady?”

“I'm so not answering that,” Peter muttered, ducking away with a laugh when she swatted at him.

May hummed consideringly, and when Peter glanced over her face was entirely too serious for his liking. “And where did you meet this much older superhero?”

“Oh,” Peter said dumbly, turning away before he continued speaking. “I met him through the Stark internship. The Avengers live in the Tower again, and sometimes they come up to Tony’s floor when I’m there.”

May sighed heavily, and Peter pretended that he couldn't hear the disappointment in her voice when she said, “Alright. Well, I hope you have fun.”

“Thanks, May. I love you,” Peter told her weakly, still not looking towards her as he made his way to the front door. She didn’t try to reach for him again, or tease him anymore, and Peter’s chest stung with shame. 

She echoed the sentiment as Peter slipped out of the front door, pushing down the guilt he felt too heavy inside his gut. After the last few years, it was now a familiar feeling and he did his best to push it away as he always did, focusing instead on the fact that she was safe. 

It never got easier, though. Each time he had to lie to her, it hurt a little more. They’d always been honest with each other, and they’d never kept secrets. May had been his closet confidant even before she had custody of him, and then they’d both lost so much. First Peter's parents, and then Ben, and they’d clung to each other in the painful aftermath when they were the only family they had left. 

May was more of a mother to Peter than an aunt, and everything in him rebelled against lying to her when he’d always been able to go to her in the past. This, lying to her all to keep her safe, caused a horrible feeling of unease to climb up from his toes and cause guilt to settle heavily in his gut. His throat burned each time he told her something that wasn’t true, every single time he had to lie about where he’d been or what he’d been doing because she just couldn’t know.

But May wasn’t stupid, and she knew that something was wrong. The way she looked at him made his chest ache with shame. His heart felt sore whenever he saw the sadness in her eyes after he made something up on the spot and didn’t pass it off well enough for her to believe him. It was awful but... at least she was alive. It was what Peter comforted himself with when the guilt ate him awake at night and it didn’t feel like he’d ever feel okay again; May was alive, and no one was after her for being connected to Peter, and she wasn’t always worrying about him like he knew she would if she found out. 

It didn’t make the reality any better, and their relationship had never been so strained. Peter ached with how much he missed the ease with which they used to co-exist. Now, every interaction was coloured by what they both knew, by all the things that Peter didn't say and all the silences that May heard but never knew the cause of.

It was exhausting, keeping it all up, and Peter was so, so tired. But he could be tired as long as it meant May was okay, and the very last thing he would ever do would be putting May’s life at risk. He couldn't see how telling her would do anything but that. He was so careful with his identity, had to be so careful with his identity, and May knowing wouldn't do her any good. It certainly wasn’t like Pepper knowing that Tony was Iron Man kept her any safer... which may not have been the best example, but still. 

Peter’s logic stood, and he told himself that the only reason he was lying so much as to keep her safe. He just had to keep her safe, because Peter had no idea what the hell he’d do if something happened to her and he lost her as well. 

But... on top of that, there were nights when Peter lied awake, kept up by his twisting guilt, and thought that she wouldn’t be proud of him if she found out. That she’d disapprove, or worse, she would know of all the lives that he hadn’t been able to save and would be disappointed in him because of them. That almost scared him even more, because May being disappointed in him wasn’t something that Peter thought he would be able to handle. 

So he didn't tell her, and instead he continued making up lies for all the nights she caught him out too-late on patrols, and all the while a painful distance continued to grow between them until he barely recognized their relationship. 

Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed out of the apartment and let out a long sigh, locking the door to give himself a moment which he used to pull himself together before he turned around. Because he’d slipped out the door he hadn’t yet seen James, so he took another calming breath and pretended he couldn’t hear May sighing from inside the apartment, and tried to get a handle on himself before he did something ridiculous like start crying. 

“Hello,” James’ voice pulled him back to the present, and Peter turned to find him with a small, confused-looking frown on his face. “Are you alright?”

Peter tried for a smile, though he was sure it fell flat with how it felt more like a grimace. He’d never been good at hiding how he was feeling, and he knew that he probably looked miserable. “I'm alright,” he lied, doing his best to sound positive as he started towards the elevator.

Fake it till you make it, right?

Before James could question him, Peter marched across the hall, hoping to delay the questions he could see over James’ face. As soon as Peter had pressed the button to call the elevator, James’ voice echoed through the hall with a resounding, “No.” 

When Peter looked back, he was staring at the open doors with tension along his body, held so tightly it was visible through his clothes. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and even from a few steps away Peter could see that his jaw was locked tightly. When he made a questioning noise, James only repeated to him, “No.”

Well. Alright then, “Okay. Okay, James, it’s more than alright,” Peter told him softly, trying to keep his voice light and soothing. He stepped forward, having no idea what he was doing and feeling entirely out of his depth as he reached out to gently lay a hand on James’ arm. Before he touched him, James flinched back violently. “I’m sorry,” Peter said immediately, holding both hands up. “I’m sorry, James. How about we take the stairs? Does that sound like it would be okay?”

At first James didn't say anything, and the silence stretched on long enough that the hairs along Peter's neck stood on end as an uneasy tenseness settled in the small hallway. Just when Peter was going to ask if he was alright, James started to relax, and Peter watched worriedly as his body slowly loosened from its tense position as he breathed deeply. 

He watched, guilt climbing up his throat as he tried to think of something to say. Nothing he thought up was good enough and all of it made him sound like an asshole, so he bit into his bottom lip to stop himself from saying something that might make it worse. Rather, he waited until James didn’t look like he was in physical pain, and then gestured weakly down the hallway.

“The stairs are this way,” he muttered quietly, almost a whisper, and shrugged his shoulders when James’ eyes shot up to meet his. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do or say, so instead of saying anything he turned and started walking towards the service door waiting for James to follow after him.

He did, thank god, and some of the swirling anxiety in his gut calmed down. Peter held the service door open for James to pass through, but then ducked his head awkwardly when James just stared at him. Peter rushed through the doorway, giving it a push to keep it open behind him. Peter started down the stairs without saying anything, his entire body tensing with anxiety at having James at his back. He felt bad for it, because he didn’t want to think of James as a threat when they were hanging out and trying to become friends, but the extra awareness of danger that came with his powers didn’t seem to care about any of that.

The trip down the stairs was made in silence, and the only sound was their echoing footsteps as they made their way down the flights of stairs without either of them saying anything. Peter didn't want to open his mouth and say the wrong thing, though it was really, really hard to hold in the nervous babbling that wanted to spew out of his mouth. All he wanted was to ease some of the tension that he could feel along every inch of his body, but he had no idea how and he knew it would be better to say nothing than say the wrong thing. 

So with great difficulty and a lot of tapping his fingers against his thighs, Peter kept quiet all the way to the first floor. He held the door open behind him but didn’t try to get James to walk through it before he did, and he just had to hope that was enough. He stayed quiet as they walked through his building’s lobby, checking back as subtly as he could to try to see that James was still following him or if he looked like he might be ready to talk.

He didn’t, so Peter still didn't say anything as they walked out of the apartment and onto the street. There wasn’t too much foot traffic, not in Peter’s area, but New York was as full of ambient noise as it was known for, and Peter let that wash over him and fill some of the silence as he kicked at his foot and stood around, awkwardly knitting his fingers together in front of him. 

“I don't like elevators,” James said suddenly. His voice was rougher than it’d been when Peter had first gotten out of his apartment, and guilt climbed its way back up his throat. 

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and felt like a freaking ass. Of course James wouldn’t like elevators! He was probably a whole collection of PTSD and different triggers, but honestly, elevators seemed like a pretty simple one. Small, enclosed metal box? Heck, Peter didn’t even like elevators all the time!

His shoulders slumped when he realized just how careless he’d been, and he quickly sputtered out, “I-I am so sorry. I didn't think that it would—”

“You didn't know,” James stated. His voice was firm enough that Peter didn't even think of arguing. “You didn’t know, and that’s not your fault,” he assured, and then he took a long, deep breath and tilted his face up towards the sky. “I am not mad.”

Peter chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds as he considered what James had said. He had a point, but that didn’t stop Peter from feeling like a total bum. “Alright,” he finally said, not quite believing him but also not wanting to question James' feelings. 

James turned to him, his lips pulled up in a small but kind smile, and Peter returned it as best as he could even if he still felt super shitty. “Earlier... your face. It did something, and I didn’t like it,” James told him seriously, a frown pulling his lips down and managing to look unfairly attractive. Peter was very bisexual and James’ face was very rude for being so attractive. 

“What?” Peter asked, his voice jumping in pitch as he tried to figure out what the heck James could be talking about.

“When you first came outta your apartment, you looked like you were trying not to look sad. Your face was a lie. Why?” James’ words were blunt enough that Peter winced, wondering how in the world he was supposed to answer that.

“Oh, I...” Peter trailed off, biting into his bottom lip as he looked up at James from under his lashes. He hummed consideringly, wondering if he should be honest, and then feeling awful that he’d even considered anything else. Sure, he and James weren’t all that close, but Peter wanted them to be. “Me and my aunt... we’ve been having a hard time together.”

James made a noise that sounded questioning enough, so Peter added, “I don’t want to tell her who I am,” knowing that James understood what he wasn’t saying when he nodded. 

“That’s understandable.”

“I just... I just want to keep her safe, ya know?” Peter asked, shrugging his shoulders uselessly. James nodded, but he didn’t say anything. Peter didn’t mind, because he certainly had no idea what to say either. 

“What are the plans for today?” James asked after the silence had stretched on long enough for Peter to feel uncomfortable, and he happily let James change the topic to something easier.

“I'm glad you asked!” Peter said. He was finally able to muster some enthusiasm into his voice as he began walking towards the subway, telling James what he had planned for their day together.

Peter had started them off lightly, only taking them on the subway for a few stops before taking James to the Chrysler Building. He was even more conscious than he’d initially been about them riding the subway. The last thing that he wanted to do was to upset James any more than he already had, but he seemed to be okay with their travel plans and hadn’t protested at all when Peter’d led him down to the first platform. 

After they’d marvelled at just how tall the Chrysler Building was—with James telling Peter just how different the city looked than it did when he’d been growing up—they checked out St. Patrick’s Cathedral—’cause James had told Peter how his mama had forced him to Church every Sunday and how he’d kept going even after she was gone—followed by Bryant Park, where they spent some time walking around and people watching. 

Even if it was heartbreaking, Peter listened attentively as James told him about the disconnect he felt as he went through the world and looked at all the different people around him. Peter’s heart ached when James explained to him that, even though he’d been awake at different points throughout the last seventy years—he’d never spent any of that time in control of his own body or mind. He’d merely been a puppet for Hydra to use and for him, it felt like the forties had just happened and like they were thousands of years ago, all at once. 

Peter had done his best to make sympathetic noises as they strolled through the bright grass. James was wearing a leather jacket and a pair of leather gloves even though the weather was mild, and it made Peter sad to know James felt like he had to hide part of himself away while the other part of Peter definitely understood the want for anonymity. 

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like James needed him to give him any insightful answers, because Peter wouldn’t have had anyway. As he watched James’ face out of the corner of his eye, the more the man talked the more he seemed to relax until there was an easier smile painting on his lips than Peter had seen from him yet. Something warm curled in his chest at knowing that he’d been able to do that for someone he cared about, and he realized as they were going around K-town and popping into some of Peter’s favourite shops, that James was already one of his people. 

As Peter was showing James around one of Ned’s favourite grocery stores, their conversation turned to something lighter, and James asked Peter about his school. He happily took over the conversation when it seemed like James was worn out from talking, and he rambled happily about his classes with the occasional interjection from James. Over text, James’ dry humour had been dried down, but in person, he said things that threw Peter into laughing fits that were so strong they physically hurt, and he’d laugh until his stomach was cramping.

He was hilarious, and Peter found himself genuinely having a good time. It didn’t matter that he was showing James around because he didn’t have anyone else to do so, or that James was one of the only people who would be able to understand what it felt like to be a superhero. Despite all of that, Peter was just having a really, really good time. 

And it was because he was having such a great time that it took him so long to realize that James, at some point, had stopped having his own good time. 

Peter had wanted to bring him to the Museum of Modern Art because James had mentioned that when they lived together, Steve used to be a painter and James would hang his work around their apartment. Peter had no idea if that meant James liked art, but a museum was usually a solid bet for something touristy, and the MoMA was a classic. 

James had been quiet ever since Peter started talking about school, which was totally okay with him! He definitely understood needing a break from interacting and he was just glad that James had been having a good enough time and that he felt comfortable enough to talk in the first place. If he needed some time to get over that—that was totally cool! 

But it was because of James’ quietness that Peter hadn’t even noticed that something was wrong, too caught up in trying to fill the silence with his own excited chattering about some of the things he knew about the different exhibits—all things he’d learned from MJ, of course—that he hadn’t noticed something was wrong until the warm, steady presence that had only been a step behind him dropped behind until the hairs along the back of Peter’s neck fell down and the anxious thrumming he’d been ignoring all day quieted completely. 

Snapping his mouth shut, Peter stopped walking and spun around with wide eyes. The museum was crowded, seeing as it was Saturday, and Peter struggled to look through the crowd. He cursed his height when he couldn't see past a group of crazy tall tourists, chewing on his bottom lip worriedly as he tried to get sight of James and figure out what had happened while trying not to feel horrifically guilty that he’d done something to upset James again.

Standing on his toes, Peter tried to look past another group of tall folk and mentally cheered when they moved out of his way, only to fall back onto his heels when he caught sight of James. Pushing out a harsh breath, Peter felt his heart start to race when he finally caught eyes on James, feeling like his heart had been punched out of him as worry and guilt battled for dominance around his breaking heart. 

James was standing tucked away in a corner, his back pressed tightly to the wall as his eyes jumped erratically around the room. His hands were clenched into fists that were straining the leather of his gloves. Peter took a deep breath and focused his hearing until he could make out the sound of grinding metal that had to have been coming from James’ left arm. 

With a quick breath, Peter hurried over but made sure to approach slowly once James looked at him and his eyes had stopped jumping all around the room to focus on Peter’s warm face. He took a deep breath, looking around the room quickly to see if anyone had noticed them, and thankfully—in typical New York fashion—no one had. 

“Are you alright?” Peter asked him quietly, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, even trying to make it sound calming, when all he wanted to do was rage at himself for hurting James again. 

The man’s eyes were dull in a way that Peter hadn't seen before, not even that first night in the alleyway, when they’d been full of curiosity and confusion. Now, they seemed almost lifeless and it made something in Peter’s stomach twist as fear raced up his spine, a fine tremor running across his entire body that caused him to tense up when he realized just how dangerous James looked. 

He looked every bit the Winter Soldier, his eyes dark and filled with nothing but a cool, calculated sort of distance, his entire body wrung tight like he was ready to strike. Someone laughed loudly in the distance and James’ eyes jumped to the general direction of where the noise came from and a snarl pulled at his lips. Peter felt his chest constrict painfully, because this was his fault.

Peter was just about to open his mouth and ask a second time if James was okay when he cleared his throat and visibly tried to pull himself together. Which was one of the most heartbreaking things Peter had ever seen. 

“I need a break,” James whispered so quietly that Peter wouldn’t have even heard him if it hadn’t been for his enhanced hearing. 

The admittance seemed to have cost him and Peter watched as James’ jaw locked even tighter until he could tell that James was grinding his teeth together just from looking at him. Peter took another, very slow step forward and ignored the way his entire body was screaming that James was a threat and just how badly he wanted to flee, holding in a flinch when James ground out, “I need to get out of here.”

“Okay,” Peter said as softly as he could. 

He stepped forward after a moment of silence where James didn’t make a move, and he started to reach out, only extending his arm when it didn't seem like James was going to stop him. Thankfully, this time he didn't flinch away and he let Peter touch him. The skin of James' right arm was warm under Peter's hand even through the thick leather jacket that he had on, and he gently ran his hand down James’ covered forearm until he could link their fingers together, something his aunt May used to do when Peter panicked and they were in public places.

James let Peter hold his hand, gently squeezing back when Peter started to lightly pull him away from the wall. Once James wasn’t backed into the corner he stuck tight to Peter’s side, his hand turning so he could keep their biceps pressed tightly together as Peter led him around groups of people. Some of the tourists would move out of the way when they saw him, which was no doubt due to James’ “murder glare,” which was, like, the scariest freaking facial expression Peter had seen on anyone in his entire life. 

They were almost near the exit when he felt James come to a screeching halt at his side. Peter stopped with him, making sure that the length of their arms were still tightly pressed together in hopes that the contact was giving James some type of comfort. James’ hand started to squeeze his tighter before his grip suddenly went almost lax, and Peter frowned up at the man. 

“You can squeeze harder, it’s okay,” Peter told him quietly. James looked at him and Peter gave him the most reassuring smile he could manage, which seemed to work because James nodded a little. Then, Peter had to lock his jaw tightly to keep from crying out when James did just as Peter asked and started grinding the bones in his hands together. Holy fucking shit. 

As calmly as he possibly could, Peter whispered, “It's okay, James. We're okay. You’re doing so good right now, okay?”

“Okay,” James repeated, but his voice was nothing more than a dull, plain monotone that made Peter shiver. It certainly didn't make him feel any better, but he tried not to focus on that and instead started them back up and moving towards the museum's exit.

It still took way longer than Peter would have liked to get them outside. With the crowds of people and the way James clearly didn’t want to get too close to anyone else, they did a lot of stopping and starting, letting others pass by so they wouldn’t have to get close to them. Peter didn’t mind, but he felt bad that he’d brought James somewhere that was making him so upset and that he hadn’t even realized it at first. 

Seeing as they’d made it a fair way into the museum, it was still a few more minutes before they made it near the front doors. With mounting horror, Peter realized that the front was way more crowded than the rest of the museum had been, and he gritted his teeth together when James squeezed his hand even tighter and started breaking bones that Peter reminded himself would heal as they made their way through the crowd.

James stayed tucked tightly to his side, standing just slightly behind Peter with their hands still twined together between their bodies. He did his best to lead them back through the front without bumping into anyone and when they finally broke through the front doors, Peter took a deep breath that tasted like New York air and let some of the tension that had been building along his frame rush out of him, feeling like they were finally free. 

However, James’ fingers squeezed Peter’s hand so tightly that Peter felt two of his fingers break. He bit into his bottom lip to keep from crying out—he didn't need James to know that he was hurt, not if he was so out of it that he didn’t even realize what he was doing—and instead of saying anything he continued to lead them away from the museum.

It wasn’t much of an improvement with how busy the streets were, crowded with busy people rushing about their lives and not caring to avoid the two of them. More than once Peter was crashed into as he tried to lead James somewhere they could have a moment of privacy, and he gladly ducked into the first alleyway he saw that was completely empty.

Peter couldn’t find it in himself to protest when James pulled his hand free. He watched silently as James stalked towards the corner of the alley and whirled to press his back against it, both of his hands pressing flat against the brick wall. Instead of following him or saying anything, Peter stood only a few steps into the alley silently, giving James time to collect himself—which he clearly needed, seeing as he was taking long, measured breaths in and out. 

He didn't look much better than he had in the museum, but the wild look in his eyes wasn't as prominent as it had been only minutes before and Peter tried to focus on that as he felt the bones in his hands start to slowly knit back together while he watched James with guilt clawing away at his throat. God, he’d hurt James again. 

“There was... there was too much,” James said weakly. Even with the way he was stuttering, his voice sounded too hollow.

Peter looked at him silently, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to make James feel better after he’d been the one at fault. He felt horrible for how he clearly hadn’t considered James’ needs at all when he’d been planning their outing, since he hadn’t even thought that maybe James wouldn’t be good with large crowds. Heck, Peter wasn’t good with large crowds! May wasn’t good with large crowds, for Heaven’s sake, and Peter should’ve just thought about the fact that maybe James wouldn’t have wanted to do that when planning their day. 

It was all Peter’s fault that James... well, Peter was pretty sure that James was having a panic attack and it was all his fault for not even considering James’ needs. Peter had spent an entire week waiting for James to text him back but during that entire time he hadn’t even really been thinking of James as... well, as James. He’d just been thinking about him as someone Peter could be friends with, and that was an overstep on his part that he was feeling horrible about.

Looking at James, he had no idea what he could possibly say to make up for the fact that he hadn’t even spared a thought during his entire planning process of their day together for what would be best for James.  He’d only thought of how much fun some of the places he liked were and how much fun James could have visiting them without actually thinking about what James may or may not need. 

Good freaking going, Peter, he thought at himself, wrapping an arm around his waist and curling his shoulders inwards, shame hot in his belly and making him feel absolutely horrible for just how awful he’d been. He’d offered James friendship and then he’d done this, bringing James to a place that was obviously going to be upsetting with just how many people were there.

The worst part, the part that was making Peter’s eyes sting and forcing him to blink rapidly to stop himself from crying, was the fact that he hadn’t even noticed. He’d been so caught up in having such a fun time that he hadn’t realized James wasn’t until he was already hiding away and having a panic attack and that made him feel worse than anything else. 

“I broke your hand,” James called out suddenly and his voice broke Peter out of his spiralling thoughts. 

Pushing everything that he was thinking and feeling away, he tried for a smile even as another throb of pain shot through him. He’d had worse, he reminded himself, and forced something onto his face that may have looked like a grimace but was the best that he could do. 

“It's okay,” Peter told him James seriously, hoping that the man would be able to tell just how much Peter meant it. It was his fault that James had freaked out in the first place, and Peter would heal fast enough that a few broken bones were nothing if it meant that he’d been able to get James to a safer place. “I'll heal soon enough, don’t worry about it. Are you feeling any better? I... I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think and...“

“I'm sorry,” James cut in, and then stared at him for another minute before he looked away to focus on somewhere behind Peter's shoulder. He was quiet for a while, silence stretching between them and broken only by the constant hum of New York. 

Peter still didn't know what he was supposed to say to make anything better. He wasn’t sure he could make anything better, but he at least wanted to try. Eventually, James took a deep breath and asked, “Can we go somewhere else?”

“I think I know a place that would be okay,” Peter told him quietly, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping against hope that he wouldn’t mess up again.

By the time they’d settled into a corner booth in a small café, a café which Peter only knew about thanks to MJ and her dislike for large corporations, James looked a little better than he had in the alleyway and a lot better than he had in the museum. Despite that, guilt was still eating away at Peter's stomach for the fact that he’d hurt James in the first place. As James scooted to the very corner of the corner booth in a position that was sure to have a view of the entire café, Peter chewed on his bottom lip and folded his hands into his lap to stop himself from picking at his fingers. 

Peter watched James watch the rest of the restaurant quietly. His eyes weren’t as distant as they’d been backed into the corner in the museum, but they were still warily tracking around the room. After another few minutes of them sitting silently and not saying anything to the other, some of the harshness started to bleed from James’ frame until he didn’t look as tense.

He sure as heck didn’t look happy, but at least the murder face was done. 

Drawing up as much inner-strength as Peter was able to muster, he quietly mumbled, “I’m really sorry, James,” while staring down at the table and focusing intently on the reflection from the hanging lights above him, too scared to look up and see whatever expression would be on James’ face. 

Silence echoed between then again, broken up by the wordless chatter coming from the few groups of people around them. The café wasn’t insanely busy—it never was, and that combined with how close it was to where they’d been were the two main reasons Peter had taken them here—but there were enough people for a quiet din of chattering. Peter waited patiently for James to respond, wondered if he ever would, and tried to think of something he could possibly say to make up for what he’d done. 

“Why are you sorry?” James asked him bluntly, though there was an edge of honest confusion in his tone that made Peter scrunch up his face in confusion. 

“I... this was all my fault. I planned out an entire day without thinking and I-I should have k-known. I shouldn't have made you do things with so many people without even thinking about whether or not that would even be something that you liked. It wasn't fair to you that I made all these plans without thinking about how they’d affect you, and I'm really sorry that I didn't think of that. I'm... I’m just really sorry, James.” Peter bit into his bottom lip to keep himself from saying anything else, feeling his cheeks start to heat up as he kept his eyes focused firmly on the table as embarrassment climbed up his throat. 

When James didn’t say anything, Peter briefly contemplated dying, but then realized that probably would be easier said than done and instead waited with burning cheeks and an awkward churning in his belly for James to say something. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was stilted. “There... are things that I do not do well with.” James’ voice was so quiet that Peter wouldn't have heard the hushed admission if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing, and he slowly raised his eyes to find James studiously staring off into the distance. “I did not tell you I cannot handle crowds. It is not your fault that you did not know that.”

Peter shook his head and said, “Even still! I wasn’t even thinking of things that you might like or even want to do!”

“How would you know what I liked?” James asked him bluntly, finally pinning Peter in place with a stare so intense he slumped back into the booth and curled his shoulders inward awkwardly. “That is why we are doing this, no? To learn about each other and find what we like? To... become friends?”

There was something so hopeful in James’ voice that he couldn’t stop the way his head started nodding quickly, so fast that he kinda felt like a bobblehead. A ghost of a smile passed over James' face when Peter said, “Yes! Yes, I really want to be friends with you.”

“I wanna be friends with you too, Peter,” James told him, sounding more relaxed than Peter had ever heard him, and he felt a smile tug at his lips before it fell. 

“I’m just... I’m sorry that I’m not starting this friendship off very well.”

“To assume that you would know I do not like crowds is not fair to you,” James told him seriously. Peter nodded his head meekly, not daring to argue with him when James sounded so final. 

He still felt terrible. He didn’t think that he would ever stop feeling terrible for such a major oversight on his part at the very beginning of a friendship he wanted so badly to cultivate. Nothing that James said would help ease the guilt he could still feel bubbling around in his gut, but he tried to take a deep breath and push it away. It wasn’t something he should focus on, especially if James was insisting he didn’t even need to feel it. 

Still, what he did wasn’t okay, Peter knew, but he wouldn’t say anything else about it if James didn’t want him to. 

So, taking a deep breath and doing his very best to push down the twisting guilt, he pulled a smile onto his face and asked, “Would you like a coffee?”

He stood from his seat quickly, doing his very best not to start picking at his nails as he focused on making the rest of their day the best that it could possibly be. He chewed on his bottom lip as he tried desperately to remember what the drink was that MJ always ordered from him and Ned as he waited for James’ answer. 

“Just water, thank you,” James said politely, so Peter nodded his head in response and turned on his heel. 

If he kept thinking about how bad he felt even after James had told him that he didn’t even need to feel bad to begin with, then wasn’t he just invalidating James’ feelings and his opinion? The last thing that Peter would ever want to do to James was just what he was doing... and wasn’t that even worse than accidentally doing something that upset him? 

He could still remember exactly how torn up James had looked when Peter asked him what he really wanted to be called, and that broke his heart. Peter couldn’t be another person that didn’t think about what James wanted after the horror story he’d lived through, so with one last deep breath, he pushed away every negative thing he was feeling and focused on trying to order the absolute monstrosity of sugary deliciousness that MJ ordered them in the correct order. 

By the look on the barista’s face, he didn’t do a very good job. Peter gave her what he hoped was a charming smile and left the money he had for James’ coffee as a tip, swaying from foot to foot as he waited at the bar for his drink. He shot his eyes over to see James still sitting in their booth and something calmed in his chest when James looked even more settled than he had when Peter first got up. Smiling, he hummed under his breath until his drinks were ready, then tried to juggle his to-go cup, James’ glass of water and a plate all in two hands, flashing the barista another charming smile when she looked at his handful worriedly. 

“It’s cool, I’m way less clumsy than I look!” Peter told her, then stuck his fingers to the underside of the plate to make sure it wouldn’t fall before walking back to his table. 

James was still sitting in the corner, but he’d slumped into the booth in a way that looked way more comfortable. He sent Peter a small smile as he approached, and Peter felt his heart flutter with something like hope. If by some miracle James still wanted to be his friend after the day they’d had, Peter was going to try his best to believe him and do everything he possibly could to be deserving of that chance. 

“I got us cookies,” Peter announced cheerfully, putting the plate in the middle of the table and unsticking his finger from the bottom smoothly before depositing their drinks.

“Thank you,” James told him, but then didn’t make a move to reach for one. 

Peter slid into his seat and opened his straw, using it to scoop some of the whipped cream decorating his drink into his mouth and making a happy noise when the sweetness burst over his tongue. He pushed his straw through the high swirl still left, then took a sip with another, happier noise when it tasted exactly like what he was expecting it to taste like. 

Heck yeah! 

Peter looked up to find James watching him curiously. He wasn’t totally sure how to start a conversation after the day they had, so he quietly sipped his drink—only small sips, to avoid brain freeze, obviously—and watched him back, wondering if James also thought the silence was totally awkward or if it was just Peter that was being totally awkward as they sat together and watched each other. 

Then, James drew his shoulders up and dropped his eyes to the table. “I have a question?” he asked hesitantly, still not looking up when Peter made a questioning noise. 

Peter nodded enthusiastically as he swallowed down his sip, more than glad that the silence had been broken, and when James still didn’t look up he said, “You can ask me anything.”

James nodded, but it was a few more minutes of silence before he finally said, “You held my hand,” with something like wonder in his voice. It was... probably the last thing that Peter had expected to be asked but the tone of voice threw him off even more. “You are... do you like men?”

Peter’s entire face flushed warmly and he dropped his own eyes so he wouldn't have to look at James as he swallowed roughly. He felt his heart start to race in his chest and his mouth went bone dry as he scratched the back of his neck and choked down the automatic, refusal that wanted to spill from his lips. 

He’d only ever come out to one person in his entire life, and that was Ned. Aunt May had always known, and instead of them having any sort of “talk,” she just started teasing him about cute girls and cute boys. Peter hadn’t said anything against it so she’d kept doing it, and they’d never needed to say anything else about it. It wasn’t something that Peter hid, he’d just never had any reason to tell anyone else and... well, it kind of felt like a big deal.

Which was silly, because it was just his sexuality. So he forced himself to look back up at James and shrug shoulder and smile as calmly as he possibly could as he said, “Yeah. And girls, though. I'm... I'm bisexual.”

“Oh,” James breathed, his mouth dropping open and his eyes going wide as he kept staring down at the table. Peter caught his eyes flicking upwards before he asked, “I... didn't k-know you could do that?”

Peter laughed softly, a nervous sounding snort spilling awkwardly from his lips as he shrugged again and said, “Yeah. When it comes to sexuality, I guess you can sorta do whatever you want? There're all types of different sexualities and stuff now, and different genders and stuff too.”

James nodded, but he didn’t say anything right away. He was still staring down at the table, but slowly he looked back up and admitted, “It wasn't like that... before. When I'm from y-you didn't wanna be queer.” James’ voice was so quiet Peter could barely hear him, but there was something painful in his voice that Peter could almost recognize from his own years of struggling with the way he felt and wondering if maybe something was wrong with him because of it.

He took another sip of his drink to give himself something to do as he wondered whether or not he could ask the question burning at the back of his throat, and then figured... well, maybe James wanted him to ask it, since he was the one who brought up the conversation to start with. 

“Do... do you like guys?” Peter asked him softly, keeping his voice was gentle as he possibly could. James’ face went pink behind his stubble, which was really answer enough, but he still waited patiently for James to say something.

“Uh,” he started, then trailed off with a frustrated noise in the back of his throat that had Peter wincing sympathetically. “Fuck, maybe? Dames never did it for me, but I never knew why. Just thought I wasn't wired that way, I guess? I didn’t wanna fuck no one like the rest of the guys, but I figured it was ‘cause I just wanted to wait till marriage like a good Catholic, ya know? Still, I kept trying, and I was damn good with ‘em, but I never wanted no one. I think...”

Peter listened intently as James’ language seemed to loosen up as he worked through how he felt, a soft smile pulling at his face as he hoped that meant James was feeling comfortable with him. He could only hope, and when James didn’t say anything else, he jumped in and told him, “You don't have to decide anything today, James. Hell, some people spend their whole lives not being sure, and others always know, and both options are totally fine. But if... if you do like guys, that's okay. That's totally, seriously okay.”

James nodded slowly, staring at Peter in the same sort of wonder he’d had on his face when he’d asked for Peter to call him James, and he felt his heart all but melt. He opened his mouth to say something else that would hopefully be, like, encouraging, when his phone pinged. He was just going to ignore it but then it beeped again, then again, then several more times in a series of beeps that made it impossible to ignore. 

“You can check those,” James told him easily, raising an expectant eyebrow when his phone pinged again.  

He blushed at the look on James’ face before he wiggled around to get his phone out of his pocket, checking the notifications on his lock screen with a roll of his eyes. “It's just Ned,” Peter told him distractedly, swiping his phone open and tapping out a quick message that told Ned he would text him later.

James made a noise of confusion and asked, “Ned?”

“Oh yeah,” Peter hummed, not used to the person he was with now knowing everyone else he spoke to since his social circle consisted of, like, four people. “Ned’s my best friend,” he explained, laughing at the crude message Ned sent him in response before putting his phone away again with a shake of his head. Just when he was about to start talking about Ned, a thought struck and instead he said, “Actually, if you ever wanna hang out with me and Ned, he'd love that! He’s the biggest nerd ever, but he’s totally sweet and super harmless.”

James shrugged and dropped his eyes to the table, not saying anything right away. “I don't... I still have a hard time being comfortable around people.”

“Really?” Peter asked, honestly a little surprised and sure that bled into his voice. “It doesn't seem that way. I-I mean, when it's just us, it doesn't seem that way at all.”

James nodded his head and spoke in starts and stops as he said, “New people are... it can be daunting. They’re more intimidatin’ when I don’t know ‘em. It's... easier, with you. You remind me of Steve.”

“Really?!” Peter asked incredulously, trying his best not to sound completely insulted at the insinuation that he was anything like Captain America. Uh, gross. 

James laughed quietly under his breath and Peter looked up in shock before he could stop himself. It was the first time he'd heard James laugh and the sound of his quiet chuckle was pleasant, though the smile it twisted his lips into was even more so. “Don't look so disgusted, it's not a bad thing.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, because even if James and Steve were friends (which Peter wasn't all too sure of, honestly), being compared to Captain America was so not something that Peter would consider a compliment. Ever. 

James chuckled again, thankfully, before he reached forward for a cookie and broke off a small piece before nibbling on it. “Fair ‘nough. Steve can be... he can be a helluva lot, that's for sure. It was way better back before the serum, when he was still small. It's hard to ‘member most days, but sometimes I get fragments of memories and... he’d been a little spitfire back then, always trying to do the right thing. He still does—he always tries to do the right thing, and his heart is always in the right place. It's just... the serum made everythin’ about Stevie a lot more than it used to be.”

Peter listened openly, nodding his head so James would know that he was paying attention but keeping quiet. He thought over what James was saying and tried to reconcile that with what he knew of Captain America and what he knew of Steve Rogers and... it just didn’t fit. But James was looking at him expectantly, and so he finally asked, “But... who is he doing right for? Doing the “right thing” doesn’t mean anything when he’s only doing whatever the right thing is for himself. His heart being in the right place doesn't matter if it hurts people.”

“Well, why do you fight?” James asked and there was a touch of something that Peter couldn't identify in his voice.

Peter shrugged, dropping his eyes down to his hands even if he knew the answer. It was a question that he thought about a lot. Too much, maybe, since there were nights when just that very question kept him awake until dawn. It was something he considered at his lowest points, something he asked himself every time he had to lie to Aunt May and drive the wedge between them further and further, every time he threw himself into a fight that he knew he didn’t know if he’d be able to win. 

Something he asked himself when he just did it all again and again and again. 

Peter knew why, and he said, “So many bad things happen in the world, and for some reason, I have all this power. If... if I didn't even try to stop the bad things from happening, they'd be my fault, ya know?” 

And that was why Peter continued to fight, every single day, even when he didn’t want to. It was why he kept lying and kept going out and kept risking his life. It was why he couldn’t stop, no matter how badly he sometimes wished he could. Because if Peter did nothing when he had the power and the means to do something and people got hurt, or they died... then that was on him. That was his fault. 

He just... sometimes he wished he didn’t have to. That he didn’t have all this power, or that he hadn’t been given it so young. That it wasn’t on him to save the damn world, or to risk himself again and again for people who would never appreciate all that he had to lose. He wished that he didn’t have to keep lying to Aunt May when she was his only living family and lying to her felt like he was tearing out his own heart. 

But he did. He had to at least try, because... Peter had this power, and it was so much that sometimes it was more than he knew what to do with, and he couldn't just sit back when people were getting hurt. If someone got hurt and he could have stopped it but didn’t do anything about it? No. That wasn’t even something that Peter liked to think about, because then it would be his fault. 

At least if he tried, if he showed up and he fought and he risked his life but someone still got hurt? Well, he’d have done all that he could. He couldn't save everyone, he knew that— God, did he know that— and on dark days, days when it seemed like nothing he ever did would be enough, days when it all seemed to be for nothing, days when he seemed to be all be for nothing, it seemed like he couldn’t save anyone. 

But if he tried... well, at least he’d tried, and he’d done his best, and hopefully, he’d saved a few people along the way. 

Peter took a deep breath and shrugged again, before he asked, “Why do you do it? I know you've gone on a few missions with the Avengers.” 

He’d tried to push down the uneasy feeling that was climbing up his throat and took a sip of his drink that did nothing to help, focusing back on James and forcing himself to stop picking at his cuticles. So much for an easy afternoon. 

“It's all I know how to do,” James told him, cold detachment leaking into his voice. “It's all I am.”

“James,” Peter started, making sure that his voice was softer than it’d been a moment ago and pushing away his own tattered feelings to focus on James, who looked lost all over again. “That's not true,” Peter told him firmly. “Even if it is, though, you can learn to be more. There’s so much that you could do and be,” he said enthusiastically, even if he had no idea how. But if James wanted to be more, Peter would do his damn best to help him. “I'm sure that Tony could help you with that?”

James blinked back up at him, the darkness in his eyes subsiding just a little and being replaced with a familiar curiosity. “You mean Stark?”

“Yeah!” Peter chirped, nodding his head quickly as he added, “if you wanted to learn something or do something different, I'm sure he'd be willing to help out in some way,” Peter told him confidently, bouncing a little as he started getting excited at the idea.

From what Peter knew about him so far, it didn’t really seem like James did a whole lot. Sure, he probably trained a lot, and he’d told Peter over text that he liked to read, but... Peter hummed under his breath as he thought through everything that’d James told him today and yesterday and realized that he hadn’t mentioned ever doing anything other than... well, training, reading and eating. 

“I don't think that Stark is my biggest fan, Peter,” James told him in a deadpan as he finally reached for another piece of cookie as Peter did the same, breaking off a section and popping it into his mouth as he tried to think over everything he knew about Tony and then washing down the cookie with the last dredges of his drink.

“Hmm, that might be true, but I'm pretty sure he's a big fan of mine,” Peter told him with a wink, which got James to chuckle under his breath again. Peter flashed him another smile, glad that the earlier tension was bleeding away now that they’d started talking about something else. “We talked about you the other day and I don't think he hates you as much as you might think he does,” Peter said, hoping that he wasn't doing anything wrong. 

Tony had said that he needed to stop thinking of James as the killer who murdered his parents, and if they could somehow get along... well, Peter wasn't going to complain about getting more people on Tony's side, especially if that person also lived in the Tower and could be there for Tony when he wasn’t. Plus, Tony knew May and Ned, and had met MJ that one time, so it would be kind of weird if he didn’t know James now that he and Peter were becoming friends, right?

“We'll see,” James finally relented after the silence had stretched between them but Peter’s smile hadn’t dimmed one bit. While he didn't sound convinced, Peter told himself to stay positive and fist-bumped the air to get James to laugh again, smiling even wider when he succeeded.

If James wanted more from his life, if he wanted to do something more than just fight bad guys and be a superhero, Peter would be there for him every step of the way. He had already caused him enough harm without even meaning to, and while James seemed to be settled, sitting relaxed in his booth and occasionally munching on little bites of his cookie, Peter would never forget the lifeless look to his eyes or the way his hands had been shaking with how tightly they’d been clenched together in the museum. 

He would do his best not to hurt James again, and he could only hope that supporting him with this would make up for what he’d already done. 

Chapter Text

Peter let out a long exasperated sigh before flopping onto his bed and star-fishing his limbs out. His dramatics were appreciated by his empty bedroom, he was sure, and sighed again, even louder this time, into his pillow to really get his point across. It was only Wednesday but already Peter was ready for his entire week to be over. Senior year was a lot; maybe not the course load specifically, but all of the stressors that came along with graduating were weighing Peter down until it felt like there was just too much happening all the time and he couldn’t keep up. 

Focusing solely on school would have been enough, but when he had to deal with all of that on top of his work with Tony and his patrolling, well... it was starting to feel like it was just too much. He was always so busy and there wasn’t a single second of a single day that Peter didn’t have planned out. During the week he had school all day, his work with Tony most afternoons and if not that, focusing on his homework, before going out for patrol. On the weekends it was mostly homework, work with Tony, some time with May or Ned, then going out for patrol.

As his final semester of high school wore on and on, Peter felt like he was suffocating sometimes. All the time. There was just so much to do and so many decisions to make and it felt like he just had so little time to get it all done. But... every time Peter thought about dropping something or cutting down his time spent doing this or that, he realized that he couldn’t. Everything that he filled his time with was essential to him, and that was the hardest part.

Pushing his face further into his pillow and trying to relax into his bed, Peter felt a headache start to form along his temples as he mentally ran through all the things he still had to do that week, mentally mapping out what he could save for the weekend. No matter how he tried to plan it or how efficient he tried to be about it, there was always going to be work he had to push off. He hated that he couldn’t do everything all the time when it felt like he should be able to. 

He had superpowers, there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to finish his homework the day it was assigned, right? Groaning about the existential pressures that came with just being alive, Peter did his very best not to think of all the things he still had to do before the semester was over. All the decisions he had to make. More and more it was starting to feel like he was doing just too much and he wouldn’t be able to keep up, which was a thought spiral that invoked his fear of failure which ate and ate at him until he felt like he was nothing more than bare-bones and frayed nerves.

His phone pinged suddenly, the text tone startling him worse than it should have. Peter jerked across his bed in surprise, just another example of how tightly wound he was under the weight of everything that he had going on. Rolling his shoulders even though he was still lying down, he took a deep breath and tried to get his racing heart to calm down as he told himself it was just a text and that there was absolutely no reason for him to be freaking out. 

Once he felt relatively calm—or at least no more anxious than what had become his baseline—he grabbed blindly for his phone, reaching around his end table uselessly before giving up and peeking a single eye open. He cheered when he finally reached it, sticking his index finger to the screen to save it from falling off the table, before pulling it closer. 

Groaning at the sudden flood of horribly bright light in his dark room, Peter rushed to dim the screen even as he squinted his one open eye against the harsh light, trying to ignore the way his headache was suddenly pounding even harder. Uh, his enhanced healing should definitely get rid of his headache, shouldn't it?

“Useless superpowers,” Peter grumbled under his breath, finally getting the brightness to a manageable setting and turning tapping to switch his screen to a warmer tone so the blue light would stop assaulting his eyes with its intensity. “Rude,” Peter told his phone, before pulling down his notification menu as he hadn’t even checked the messages before adjusting the brightness. 

His phone pinged again as he tried to make sense of the swimming words in front of him, and his lips twisted up when he finally made out who all the texts were from and read through each one. 

From Mr. Stark (6:31 p.m): Captain tightass wants you to come by for group training
From Mr. Stark (6:31 p.m): I tried telling him to shove it but he wouldn't listen
From Mr. Stark (6:31 p.m): So this is me relaying the message
From Mr. Stark (6:32 p.m): (He was very insistent. It was horribly annoying. You better show up or you can’t have any ice cream for a week)

Peter chuckled under his breath at the rapid-fire way the texts came through, smiling fondly at his phone screen as he finally thumbed into the message thread. Tony texted the same way he thought: way too fast for anyone to ever even hope of keeping up with if they weren’t a custom-made learning AI, random trains of thought starting and stopping and making way for new ones to barge into the conversation. 

Peter loved it—both in-person and over text—as keeping up with Tony was always an impossible challenge that caused him to push himself, even if Tony didn’t intend it that way. Tony’s mind was the most impressive Peter had ever had the pleasure of working with, and he was so smart that he constantly inspired Peter to learn more and work harder and just... be better. 

Tony Stark was the reason that Peter wanted to be a scientist in the first place. He’d looked up to the man and the things he made ever since he was a little boy, and getting to know him—as crazy and unbelievable and life-changing as it had been—hadn’t changed that. Peter still looked up to him, and he was constantly trying to better himself in the hope of inspiring even a fraction of the change in the world that Tony had directly caused.  

So with a grin, Peter typed out a response but knew that he was just prolonging the inevitable. He could only push off answering for so long before Tony would eventually just call him—it’d happened before countless times—so Peter bit the bullet and finally hit send. 

To Mr. Stark (6:33 p.m): When does he want this training to happen??? You know I'm not free during the week.

From Mr. Stark (6:33 p.m): Don't worry kid, I got him to agree to Saturday.
From Mr. Stark (6:34 p.m): Will I see you there?
From Mr. Stark (6:34 p.m): I won’t actually take away your ice cream FRIDAY says that’s mean

To Mr. Stark (6:35 p.m): sure

Peter pressed send before he could chicken out and take it back. He grimaced even as the message went through, groaning under his breath and closing his eyes to take a few deep breaths and focusing on the fact that training with the Avengers always meant training with Tony, who he really liked and always enjoyed spending time and totally didn’t compensate for the fact that he’d have to see the rest of the team. 

Ugh, gross. 

There wasn’t a single fibre in Peter’s entire being that wanted to go and train with the Avengers. Just... no. No to training. No to making nice and having to pretend, for hours, that he liked them. No to what was probably going to be another hypocritical lecture from Captain America about how he was too young to be risking his life and how he should keep the world-saving to the adults. 

No to having to stop himself from punching that righteous ass in his stupid righteous face. Peter wasn’t even all that surprised that he’d been “requested”. As much as Peter wasn’t an Avenger and didn’t want to be one, every now and again Captain America would forget that the team was governed by the Accords Council and demand his presence during a training session and throw an absolute fit if he didn’t show up. 

Even more than he didn’t want to deal with them during training, he didn’t want to deal with what would happen if he didn’t show up, and he knew that Tony did actually want him there to see him and not just to placate the Captain, and that if he did say no, Tony would just try to change his mind anyway. Plus... it wasn’t like he actually wanted to leave Tony to deal with them all alone. 

Saying yes was the easiest option for everyone involved, and so Peter didn’t take his text back no matter how badly he wanted to tell Tony to tell Captain America to shove it.

The very last thing in the entire world that he wanted to spend his Saturday doing was training with the damn Avengers (which, okay, might be a bit of an exaggeration but he had a headache, sue him). Training with the Avengers—which he wasn’t a damn part of!—always put him in a mood that would last for days. The whole thing always ended up being an exercise in frustration, exacerbated by the fact that Peter had about a million other things he could be doing with his time. 

Things that would actually be worth his while and wouldn’t be completely redundant, like training with the Avenger’s always was. Peter and Tony had been training together every few weeks for long enough that Peter didn’t get hurt out on the field nearly as much as he had before and it wasn’t like the team actually ever taught him anything, anyway. “Training” was usually just sparring that Peter refused to take part in, so it was usually him sitting around and practising his web-shooting at the large range on the Avenger’s training floor. 

It just... Peter had been doing this whole superhero thing on his own for two whole years, and he’d been doing stuff for months on his own before Tony decided to involve himself. He didn't need any additional “training” that wasn’t even training and he sure as heck didn't need to play nice with the Avengers. Not when they never bothered to play nice with him or with Tony, who literally housed and fed and clothed them all. 

Sure, he may have been a little biased because of much he cared about Tony, but it wasn’t like any of the team were really great to him, either, except for maybe Bruce, who avoided team events, and crowds, and—Peter mentally flashed back to his horribly awkward first meeting where Bruce had rushed off and felt his cheeks heat up in a sympathetic blush for his own past embarrassment—people in general. 

Black Widow treated him like he wasn’t anything more than a silly child who couldn’t make the tough calls. She’d made enough snide comments about how “soft-hearted” Spider-Man was that he knew she didn’t take him seriously as an equal but rather thought he was below her because he didn’t kill criminals. An uncomfortably hypocritical attitude from someone who idolized the conveniently idealistic Captain.The one time he’d sparred with her, spurred on by the false assumption she wouldn’t be as awful as the others, she’d held herself back and Peter hadn’t even learned anything. 

Hawkeye and Falcon were just assholes that talked badly about Tony whether or not he was around and didn’t even seem to care that Tony could hear them when they complained about him—despite, again, living in his Tower and using his money—and most of the time Peter was around them, he was forcibly holding himself back from smacking them upset the head hard enough to knock some sense into them. 

Scarlet Witch was literally the worst person in the entire world, if you asked Peter, Vision was super weird, and Captain America was just... Captain America.  He could never quite shake the thought that the good Captain only insisted he attended training every so often to exert his authority and make sure that Peter knew where he stood, which for a self-purported hater of bullies was... just like, so gross on so many levels.

Ugh. Even further convinced that training with the Avengers was absolutely a waste of his time and the last thing in the world he wanted to do, Peter opened his messages app to send another text telling Tony that he couldn't make it but before he could hit send another text popped up.

From Mr. Stark (6:38 p.m): Thanks kid

Well, crap.

That settled that, Peter thought with another deep sigh. 

He’d promised himself once that he would never knowingly do something to hurt Tony, not after everything Tony had ever given him and done for him and been to him. Peter knew that he would never be able to repay Tony for all that he’d done, not in any way that mattered, but this he could do. He could be someone that didn’t hurt Tony. He could be Tony’s friend until he decided that he didn't want Peter in his life anymore—which he hopefully never did—and if that meant enduring training with a group of people he didn't like at all... well, that's what he was going to do.

Because Tony deserved, more than anything in the world, to have people who put him first in the same way that he was always putting everyone else in his life first. With everything that Tony had ever done for him, Peter could, at the very least, be in his corner no matter what. And if Tony was inviting him for training it meant that he wasn’t going to be able to wiggle out of it either, and Peter wasn’t going to make him go through that alone. 

Not when the team sucked so hard. 

So Peter deleted the text he’d typed out and sent back a thumbs-up emoji, groaning so loudly that his head pounded, but then still groaning again when that didn't feel like an adequately vehement display of his emotions. Rolling his eyes at himself, Peter plugged in his phone before shimming out of his jeans and tossing his t-shirt onto the floor. 

It wasn’t even seven, but Peter was exhausted and thinking about Saturday only made him more tired. Going to bed early sounded like an excellent idea, and he sent off a quick text to May to let her know he was sleeping before closing his eyes and letting sleep pull him under.

When Saturday finally rolled around after the longest week of Peter’s life and the alarm he’d specifically set just for that morning started blaring on his end table, Peter wanted to curse the entire freaking world. Without even looking at the time Peter knew it was too early —mostly because he’d set his alarm for the crack of dawn, which, on a Saturday was definitely eight in the morning.

Peter was so tired that it took what felt like forever before he had enough strength in his limbs to shut off his alarm, and even all he did was uselessly flap his hand about before the electric ringing of his alarm finally stopped and he was plunged back into peaceful silence. Peter made a happy noise as he wiggled back down into his bed, getting comfortable and ignoring the fact that he had to wake up and get moving eventually, and decided he totally deserved a little more sleep.

His week had ended the same way it’d begun: long and stressful and totally overwhelming. His teachers didn’t seem to care that there were less than two months of school left and were piling the homework onto their shoulders like they were freshmen all the teachers were angry with. 

He’d been doing homework until near midnight before he’d finally pushed himself out of his window for patrol, which ended up taking way longer than he’d been expecting since he was trying to track down a ring of criminals that he was sure were all working together to illegally sell and trade weapons. The entire night had been a bust and Peter hadn’t found anything worthwhile despite spending hours out searching. 

He got home so late that all he’d managed to do was strip, kick his suit under his bed, and flop out onto his mattress. It felt like he’d lied down, closed his eyes, and then his alarm was going off. Jolting across his bed in surprise, Peter’s alarm started going off again and he groaned into his pillow in defeat, scrambling for his phone to make the horrible, ear-splitting screech of his alarm stop. 

Sending his phone a glare, Peter unlocked it and spent a minute going through his notifications as he yawned so widely it cracked his jaw and made his eyes water. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly with his free hand, lazily typing a response to a text from Ned asking if he was free that day. Slowly, Peter felt his higher brain functions join the rest of him in the land of the living, and he groaned again in personal protest at being awake this early. 

After another few minutes of lazing around half-awake, Peter accepted the inevitable and rolled off his bed. He dropped to the floor with a grunt, but the shock of impact helped wake him up and he shook his head around as he oriented himself. Groaning again—seriously, having to wake up early on a weekend should be outlawed—Peter slowly pushed himself to his feet before kicking through the laundry on his floor as he tried to find something to throw on.

He found a fitted pair of track pants and a big shirt that used to belong to Ben and pulled them both on before shuffling into the bathroom to get ready. Deodorant? Check. Facial Hair? None there, so check. Teeth? ...mouthwash was probably good enough, right? Eh, check. Peter looked at himself in the mirror and scrubbed at his hair, wondering if bed head was an acceptable look and then realizing it didn’t really matter anyway, since no one but Tony would actually see him. 

He smiled at his reflection, then cringed when he took in just how tired he looked. Yawning, he pouted at the mirror before washing his hands and then scrubbing at his face to try to wake himself up just a little bit more, slapping at his cheeks in a desperate attempt to get his brain running at least a little bit more. Gosh, he just wanted to go to bed. 

Grumbling about stupid geniuses who called him kid, Peter stumbled down the hall in search of sustenance, his stomach growling hungrily as he scratched it. May was already up and in the kitchen when he finally entered the room, frying something on the stove as she hummed to herself. Her hair was messy and she was also in one of Uncle Ben’s shirts, an apron tied around her waist to keep it clean. Peter felt a smile tug at his face as he watched, struck, not for the first time, with just how gorgeous she was. 

“Morning, May,” he called out, leaning against the wall and pulling out his phone when it buzzed in his pocket. He read the text from Tony asking if he was up and replied with a dozing emoji. 

“Good morning, Pete,” May greeted, turning and sending him an easy smile. “Why’re you up so early? More plans with James?”

When he’d gotten back the weekend before, May forced him into another conversation about who James was. Peter had stuck with his story, telling her that he’d stumbled across him while at the Tower with Tony. It must have been believable enough since it was actually totally possible, and May had eventually stopped teasing him about handsome older men—which had made Peter blush horrifically darkly because of how accurate her remarks really were. 

“Nope, I’m heading to the lab today,” he told her, shuffling the rest of the way into the kitchen and slumping into one of the chairs at their little table. He slipped on the pair of socks he’d stuffed into his pocket before grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl and cramming it into his mouth before looking at May hopefully. 

“I’m making an omelette and I guess you can have some,” she told him with an eye roll, and then asked, “why the lab this early?”

“Oh, Tony asked me to come so we could finish a project we’re working on as soon as possible, even though this is, like, the devil’s hour. I mean, I’m excited because we’re getting really close to a breakthrough on the reinforced silk string, and we're both really excited to be done with it, but oh my gosh is the sun even up yet?” Peter groaned, flopping forward onto the table and closing his eyes. 

“I see,” May told him slowly, and then said, “come get yourself a plate if you want some of this food.”

Peter hopped to his feet and got a plate with his eyes closed, holding out his hands with a big smile on his face that May eyes warily. “Talking about things that I don’t understand isn’t going to make me believe you anymore than if you were talking about things I do understand, just so you know,” May told him seriously. 

Her eyes were piercing, and Peter had to force himself to hold her eyes when he said, “I really am going to the Tower, May,” with only the smallest amount of guilt since he was actually going to the tower... even if he wasn’t going there for the reasons he’d told her. The reinforced silk string was just a toned-down version of the web formula that Tony thought could be used by first responders and in other industrial ropes to create stronger bonds. Since it was originally Peter’s formula, it was going to be patented under his name which... honestly, Peter wasn’t even totally sure what that meant, but he was really excited nonetheless. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” she gave him another smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and Peter bussed her cheek without saying anything about it, settling at the table to scarf down his omelette before leaving. He’d have to eat a few of the specially formulated energy bars that Tony manufactured for him before he got to the tower, but he could do that on his walk to the alley.

May joined him at the table and switched to a conversation about their upstairs neighbours, and both of them ignored everything the other wasn’t saying as they enjoyed having breakfast together. 

Peter landed lightly on his balcony, letting the strand of quick-dissolving web formula he was trying out slip from his grasp as he slipped through the door to the room Tony had given him, automatically being opened by Karen. Peter mostly used the bedroom for storage. It was where he kept his spare comfy clothes at the Tower—sweatpants and baggy hoodies that he could change into after school—but he had used it to spend the night a few times he told May he was staying at Ned's and really went to track down a specific baddie. While he’d normally just slip out of his room during the night, if Peter was tracking someone down and knew it was going to take longer than his usual few-hour-long patrols, he tended to spend the whole night out and then crash here.

The bedroom was ridiculously nice, though that was to be a given considering it was on Tony Stark’s penthouse floor. A little thrill went through him every time he thought about the fact he had his very own bedroom on Tony’s personal floor. Even for being on the floor that it was, it was a pretty simple room; there was a stupidly gigantic bed centred against the side wall. Peter tossed his bag onto it as he entered the room (a bed so expensive Peter would probably cry if he ever saw the price of it) which sat opposite of a large, paper-thin Stark TV that was connected to more game consoles than Peter knew what to do with (which was a setup so amazing Ned would probably cry if he ever even saw it). 

Other than that, there was a huge wardrobe and an attached bathroom, but there wasn’t anything else. Peter had been in Tony’s bedroom a few times, and there was like, an entire little home in there, with a kitchen and living area of its own. Peter was glad that his bedroom wasn’t so crazy, since this... simple room had been hard enough for him to accept. 

He’d tried to refuse it, at first, telling Tony that he didn’t need a room at the Tower and that it was fine, really, that he could just swing back to Queens when he needed to. But Tony had been insistent, telling him that he was free to use it whenever he needed and that F.R.I.D.A.Y would get him anything he wanted if— somehow— there was something that he still wanted. There totally wasn’t, since his bedroom was literally almost the size of his and May’s apartment, and sure it was a little sparse but... Peter wouldn’t even know what else to put in here!

In the end, he’d only accepted it when Tony called it a gift. 

Aunt May had raised him right—at least, mostly—and Peter would never refuse a gift from someone, even if he didn’t like it. Not liking was definitely not the problem with the bedroom, though. Peter... well, he wasn’t sure that he deserved it. At the time, Tony had hardly been anything more than a mentor—had still been Mr. Stark, actually—and he hadn’t been able to imagine why someone as... well, as amazing as Tony Stark would want him around. 

It was easier now that they were something that resembled friends. Even still, it was totally overwhelming that he had a bedroom on Tony Stark’s personal floor. A floor that not even the Avengers—save Dr. Banner, apparently—had access to. Sometimes he felt bad that he didn't use it more often, or that he didn’t stay the night after research binges (since he usually went out for patrol), but after giving it to him, Tony hadn’t ever brought it up. 

Peter knew really well just how much space Tony had (they definitely had never played hide-and-seek throughout the Tower), but he... well, he still understood the significance of Tony giving him a room on his floor, and he still hoped that he’d been able to convey that when first accepting it.

“Hello, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y greeted kindly, though her voice echoed through the speakers within Peter's mask instead of sounding out from the walls like she usually would. He didn’t mind, seeing as she only ever did it when he was inside the Tower and wearing his mask. It pulled Peter from his thoughts and he realized that he was just sort of standing around. 

Oh gosh, he must have been really tired. 

“How are you today?” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice continued, and Peter shrugged his shoulders. 

“I'm alright, Fri,” Peter told her around a yawn as he headed to the big, wall-height wardrobe that kept his spare clothes and some less advanced suits that Peter had never wanted to get rid of for sentimental reasons. 

Yawning again as he pulled the cupboard open, Peter only hoped that his adrenaline would kick in when he was around the team, because damn he was still exhausted. The trip over hadn’t done nearly as much to wake him up as he had been expecting, and it still felt like he was only half awake as he stumbled about. 

“Karen informs me that you are tired,” F.R.I.D.A.Y accused him, and once again Peter would have sworn he heard something that sounded suspiciously like concern in her tone of voice, despite what Tony insisted upon when it came to AI’s and their feelings. 

“Yeah, I am, but I'm alright,” Peter told her, ignoring how weird it felt to know that his AI and Tony's AI talked to each other. He dug through a drawer filled with specially manufactured energy bars until he found one that was covered in peanut butter, giving a little cheer as he grabbed... yeah, three of them seemed like a good idea. 

Once he had one opened and his mask was shoved up to his nose so he could eat it, he checked the time in the corner of his HUD display and frowned when it was already nine; training with the Avengers sucked a whole bunch to begin with, but it was even worse when that training started at nine. On a Saturday! 

“Where is everyone?” he asked, munching on his bar as he walked over and jumped onto the edge of his bed, bouncing a bit on the comfortable mattress. 

“Tony, along with the rest of the team, are in the training room, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y told him, and Peter didn't miss the way she hadn’t grouped Tony in with the rest of the Avengers. Peter snorted, finishing his first energy bar before starting on the second, pushing himself up and lumbering to the bathroom to get a glass of water to wash the sticky peanut butter down with.

“Thanks,” Peter told her, once he’d swallowed, then started on a second bar as he moved back to the bedroom, cup of water in hand and energy bars in the other. 

He dropped his goods off on the ridiculously big end table beside the bed and then grabbed his bag, having to hop onto the bed to reach it. He pulled out his suit and changed quickly, leaving the clothes he’d worn over in a pile on the floor for later. Peter didn’t usually swing around in just his mask, but sometimes it was fun to swing around in civilian’s clothes, since the way he interacted with the air was so much different. 

Once he was changed he finished off his second bar and started on his third, eating it quickly before downing the rest of his water. Once he was done, he made his way through the Tower slowly, knowing he was running late but not at all feeling up to rushing to something he didn’t even want to do. 

There was only one elevator that accessed Tony’s floor and you needed, like, so much security clearance to enter it. As it was, the door opened automatically, seeing as he was wearing his suit and F.R.I.D.A.Y already knew that it was him. Peter tapped his fingers against his leg nervously as the elevator took him down to the training room—training floor, actually, since Tony had repurposed an entire level (Peter actually suspected it was two levels) when the Avengers had first been formed so many years ago, which he’d made into an insanely impressive floor. 

The elevators opened up to an open room larger than anything Peter had ever seen—seriously, it was bigger than the gym at his school. Peter was pretty sure that the wide, open area was half the size of the entire tower, and the ceilings were crazy high. There were showers and change rooms that could be used that were all an immediate left of the elevator exit, though Tony hadn’t ever been in them. The sprawling space was split into different sections that fit the different needs of all the Avengers perfectly, which Peter thought was really amazing since in his opinion, the Avengers didn’t deserve anything at all from Tony, least of all personalized training areas. 

Just like there were change rooms to the left of the elevator, there was a long, sprawling range to the right. He knew it’d first been built for Hawkeye, secondly Black Widow, and now James used it too. Peter hadn’t yet had a training session with James on the team, but he’d heard from Tony that James had started using the range instead of sparring with any of the others, which, from Tony’s rant—and from what he now knew about James—had been what the others all expected of him. 

Peter got it—he wouldn’t have wanted to spar with any of the Avengers, either, and the only person he ever sparred with was Tony. Which... was actually one of the main reasons Peter hated coming to these damn training sessions, since he wasn’t going to be even doing anything productive. He refused to spar with any of them in the boxing ring that Captain America loved and technically he could practise his web-slinging with Falcon, but Falcon was super annoying.

Peter usually just worked out in the gym section or ran on the treadmills so Tony could measure his speed, or sparred with Tony when he was around. Still, he could already tell that today was going to be a huge waste of his time, and he tried his best not to think about all the work he had at home that he should be doing but was instead not doing any of it just because Tony had called him kid. Huffing at his own sentimentality, Peter entered the training room quietly, the elevator silently swooshing open before him. He peeked his head in and looked around the room silently, frowning when he didn’t see Tony or James anywhere in the room. 

Hoping to avoid all of the team that he could see, Peter sneaked onto the floor and knew the music blaring from around the room would cover any noise he could possibly be making, even though he was staying silent. Hawkeye was, predictably, at his range, but he was the only one. Scarlet Witch and Vision were, as usual, just floating around a padded corner of the room together and doing... probably weird mind stuff that Peter didn’t want to know about anyway. 

Even though Peter was now on the floor, he still couldn’t see James or Tony anywhere. He figured that he could be in the augmented reality chamber, which was a room that Tony had designed from the ground up which used nanotechnology to run drills and simulations that recreated real and potential fights, both so they could train for new threats and to analyze their past battles. 

It was literally the coolest thing Peter had ever seen. Seriously, the first time he’d tried it out, he’d been so awed by the literally mind-numbing technology built into every single inch of the room that Tony had to pull the drill because Peter hadn't been able to properly pay attention and had nearly gotten fried by a laser beam. 

He’d praised Tony for hours afterwards, refusing to stop his enthusiastic gushing and question-asking even when the man got embarrassed and started blushing. It was seriously a work of art, and Peter couldn’t even guess how much time or how much genius it would have taken to put it all together. Frowning, Peter slowly shuffled through the room, sticking close to the locker rooms when he noticed that Captain America and Black Widow were sparring in the boxing ring with Falcon egging them on. 

On the wall next to the lockers, there was a video feed that played out what was going on inside the reality chamber and... yep, Tony and James were running a drill together. Peter watched as the two of them worked together, seemingly effortless, taking out a gigantic robot with ease. The simulation flashed and then changed, so Peter looked back around the room as he did his best not to draw any attention to himself—at least, no more attention than his bright costume would draw naturally. 

Hulk was sitting further to the left, tucked away against the wall with his legs spread out in front of him and frowning down at the floor. Peter paused in surprise; it was very, very rare for Hulk or Dr. Banner to be down in the training with them. He... well, he couldn’t really do anything to train, considering Hulk’s form of attack was simply to smash everything and anything in sight. Which... certainly had a time and place, but that and place was definitely not in training. 

In the end, he just hoped that sitting with Hulk would deter any of the others from trying to talk to him and decided that was reason enough. He walked over slowly, having to push down a bit of unease that immediately started welling up at the sight of the big guy, his hand aching with phantom pain. It definitely wasn’t his fault that he’d broken Peter’s hand, considering Peter had been the one to jump in front of him in the first place, but... there was still a part of him that remembered his entire hand breaking under Hulk’s fist regardless. 

Pushing that all away, Peter took a deep breath and quietly said, “Hey, big green!”

He sat cross-legged beside Hulk's knee, folding his hands into his lap as he looked up at the big guy. He sat facing Hulk in hopes of further deterring any of the team from speaking with him even if they did see him, but so far his senses weren’t pinging like they usually did when an Avenger focused their attention on him. 

Hulk looked up from where he’d been frowning down at the floor, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Peter. Peter watched with his own wide eyes as the expression on Hulk’s face completely transformed, his frown morphing into one the brightest smiles had ever seen in his entire life. 

“Spider!” Hulk cheered, relatively quiet but with enough enthusiasm underlying the simple greeting that Peter blushed in embarrassment underneath his mask. Wow, Hulk sounded way too excited to see him considering they’d had all of one conversation. 

“How are you?” Peter asked, not looking to see if anyone had noticed him come in—the last thing he needed to do was jinx it—and instead, he focused his attention solely on Hulk.

Hulk cocked his head to the side. It was a little strange seeing such an expressive look on his face, and as a crease formed between his eyebrows, Peter couldn’t help but think that... well, Hulk looked adorably confused. To add to that, Hulk made a questioning noise, a humming sound that seemed to vibrate through him the floor, which Peter since his senses were always dialled up to eleven. Hulk met his eyes before he asked, “Spider?”

It was Peter’s turn to be confused, since he wasn’t entirely sure what it could be that was causing Hulk to stare at him with such a lack of understanding. Hulk definitely knew how to follow orders, even if his grasp on language seemed to be pretty simple. Deciding to play it safe, but just said, “Yeah, Hulk, I’m Spider-Man! How are you doing?”

Hulk nodded at him slowly, that same look of confusion only deepening over his features. Peter was worried that Hulk still hadn’t understood him until he tilted his head upwards and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as if he was looking inside for the answer. Which... was also kind of adorable, actually, and Peter bit into his bottom lip to stop himself from giggling.

After a few moments of patiently waiting, Hulk looked back down at him and nodded his head rapidly as his earlier smile stretched back across his face. Peter felt his own face split into a grin, and he asked, “You’re doing good?” just to make sure he understood what Hulk was telling him. 

Hulk’s smile grew even wider and then his cheeks dimpled, and Peter mentally cooed, so very glad that he was wearing a mask when Hulk started adorably bobbing his head up and down. “That’s good! I’m glad to hear that, Hulk!” Peter told him sincerely, smiling up at him under his mask. 

Peter had his hands still folding together in his lap, and was fiddling with his fingers nervously. He didn’t think anything of it until Hulk raised his hand and a sharp, blinding panic shot through him and stole his breath away. He sucked in a sharp, sudden breath through his nose and did his best to push the unexpected worry away, focusing instead on Hulk’s incredibly kind smile and the dimples on his face and not the way it’d felt for his hand to be broken under the force of his fist. 

When the twisting panic had finally ebbed enough for Peter to focus on what was in front of him, he realized that Hulk was pointing at... him? Peter cocked his head to the side as he focused on the giant green limb, staring at Hank’s extended finger until he realized that he was definitely being pointed at. 

“What?” he asked unthinkingly, looking past the girth of Hulk’s finger and up to his slowly dimming smile, mentally replaying their interaction and doing his best to move past any lingering bits of worry or fear as he focused back on their conversation. “Oh! I’m sorry Hulk, yes, yes, of course! Um... I’m doing pretty good, big guy! Thank you so much for asking!”

Hulk’s smile expanded again, and by the way his dimples deepened, he seemed incredibly pleased with himself and with Peter, which made him feel, like, ridiculously pleased with himself. Warmth curled up through his chest as he watched the big guy look back down at the ground, but his frown was nowhere in sight, just a soft smile curling his lips as he traced shapes on the floor. 

Hulk... honestly didn’t look anything like the media portrayed him. As Peter studied the green dude’s giant face, he realized just how much he looked like a man. When photos of Hulk were spread around online, or in the news, he was usually wearing a frown, or a snarl, or was even mid-fight and was roaring. Like this, just sitting with Peter and staring down at his hands, he realized that Hulk looked... well, he looked like Dr. Banner. If there was any face that Peter knew, it was that one—there may have been a few years with a certain poster on his wall—and as Peter gazed up at Hulk, he noted the similarities between the two of them.

The bridge of their nose, the shape of their eyebrows, the curve of their hairline. Hulk had a sharper jaw than he remembered Dr. Banner having when they ran into each other, but otherwise... the base structure of their faces was the same. Despite being big, and green, there was something much more humanesque about Hulk that he’d never realized before, but couldn’t help but noticing now. Something... something almost handsome. 

Which, oh my gosh, was totally not something that Peter needed to think about at all, so he very quickly squeaked out, “Why aren't you with the others?” 

Hulk’s head slowly turned back to look at him, and he stared at Peter wordlessly for a few minutes wherein Peter waited patiently and didn’t say anything, letting Hulk take all the time he needed, since earlier he’d just needed to think through his answer. 

“They... no Hulk smash,” Hulk told him plainly, though the despair in his voice was so prominent, so palpable, that Peter’s heart ached. 

Looking around the room, Peter pushed down his surprise at hearing Hulk speak so clearly and found that he couldn’t get over just how upset Hulk had sounded. Clearly, not being able to smash was a point of hurt for the big guy, which honestly made a lot of sense. Peter hated coming to the training sessions because there was never anything to do; why would Hulk feel differently than Peter did when he also showed up just to sit around and not do anything? 

Once again cocking his head to the side—and smiling warmly when Hulk copied the movement—Peter felt a plan began to form, hazy thoughts layering together to create something clearer. From what he could see of the training floor, he didn’t think that there was a specific place for Hulk to train. Nothing out here, anyway, and Peter didn’t want to bring Hulk into the augmented reality chamber without talking to Tony about it first, just in case. 

Taking a deep breath, Peter decided to throw caution to the wind, and he asked, “I'm really sorry that you don't have anything you’re able to do, big guy. Do you want to spar with me?”

He tapped his fingers against his thighs as he tried his best to ignore the nervous fluttering in his stomach, focusing instead on the way Hulk’s smile had dimmed when he admitted he wasn’t allowed to smash and wanting to get that smile back, and then not focusing on just why he wanted to make Hulk smile again. 

“Smash... Spider?” Hulk's voice rang with confusion that was, once again, palpable. His language may be limited, but he was so expressive that it was easy to tell what he was saying despite the few words he used to get his message across. 

Peter was quickly becoming really fond of the small crease that formed between his brows every time he frowned like that. 

Peter smiled under his mask, excitement beginning to replace the nervousness he'd been feeling as his plan really began to take hold and shape up in his thoughts. He rose to his feet in one fluid movement, bouncing on his toes as excitement bubbled up his chest and made him giddy. 

“If you think you're fast enough!” he taunted, taking a few steps backwards and then motioning for Hulk to come after him when the man stayed stock still, doing nothing but staring at Peter with confusion.

Then, a light seemed to brighten within Hulk’s eyes, and his voice was hinged with a nervous sort of hesitancy when he asked, “Smash Spider?”

“You can try, but I don’t think you’ll be fast enough to catch me,” Peter teased, mentally crossing his fingers that Hulk was going to get it and... then cheering when the big guy did, a beaming smile stretching across his face and lighting up the whole room. 

“Smash Spider,” Hulk said again, though this time there was an edge of excitement in his voice that hadn't been there before, and Peter couldn’t help the way he grinned behind his mask as Hulk’s pure joy infected him. 

When Peter nodded in confirmation, Hulk clambered up to his feet and Peter let out a peal of laughter at the sight of such a large being excitedly rushing to stand and all the noise that came with that. Peter squatted low to the floor, taking a deep breath before he jumped and launched himself up and backwards. His body arched through the air before he tucked his knees up to carry his legs up and over himself. As he was mid-flip he shot out a web and used his momentum to pull the web tight, using the tension to launch himself forward. 

They had more than enough room to play chase through the training floor and it sure as heck beat the two of them sitting around. Peter pulled his legs up under him, releasing the web he was holding and letting himself free fall through the air before he shot out another. He could Hulk stomping after him, each step he took echoing through the room as Peter focused on tracking his progression even as he kept himself moving. 

The hairs over the back of his neck suddenly stood on end and he threw out his arm to launch another web, turning sharply through the air. His heart rate kicked up and his stomach fell right of him when he felt a rush of air go by him that could be nothing but a near-miss with Hulk's arm. Too close, Peter!

The chase—which was essentially a very fun game of tag—continued. 

Peter's heart was thumping wildly with excitement as another bout of laughter bubbled up and out of his throat. He led Hulk around the room, listening as Hulk chased after him with his own roaring laughter that lit up Peter’s chest with pure joy. His “spider-senses” (as Ned insisted Peter call them even if he totally hated the name) would “tingle” (gosh, Ned was weird; did Peter ever freaking love him) every time Hulk got too close, which was happening more and more often as they continued to rush through the training floor. 

Still, he was able to dodge fairly easily; if there was one thing that Peter was good at, it was web-slinging, and he was, if he had to say so himself, incredibly agile moving through the air. Hulk may be fast, but he was so big that he was slow to turn whereas Peter could throw out a web and turn in a flowing arch or such a hard turn his body was pulled in an approximation of a right angle. 

Hulk was just too... sturdy to turn as smoothly. When he ran forward he was like a tank, and Peter figured he’d be pretty much unstoppable if he built up enough momentum. That meant that Peter’s agility was his advantage, and he used that to stay out of Hulk’s path. Flexing his advantage, Peter spun through the air and pulled himself in sharp turns to keep away from Hulk’s wind-milling arms. If he kept swinging straight for too long Hulk would easily catch up to him, and Peter remembered just how hard Hulk could throw a punch. 

With a racing heart and limbs light with adrenaline, Peter let go of the web he’d been holding, flying through the air in a graceful arch and landing against a wall, sticking himself to its surface and looking back. Hulk was standing in the middle of the room with his arms still swinging about himself and only stopping when he noticed Peter on the wall.

“Don't just swing your arms around without looking, big guy, try to aim yourself!” Peter called after him, launching himself off the wall with as much pressure as he could before throwing out a web and swinging his legs under him as he arched through the air to increase his momentum.

Peter swung around the room, dutifully ignoring the way the Avengers had all grouped together in the boxing ring and were now just standing around watching him. He couldn’t afford to think about them or the way they were gawking after the two of them, and instead, he focused all of his attention on staying away from Hulk who was getting better and better at keeping up with him even though Peter was still pulling out every trick he had in his web-slinging-book. 

As he kept pushing and pushing himself, webs started to gather around the room, differing lengths all still hanging from the ceiling. Peter used them to his advantage, leading Hulk back through paths he’d just come from in hopes that he would start to tangle himself around the webs and that they’d slow him down.

It didn't work, but it did seem to annoy him, which slowed him down either way. Hulk lost some momentum when he took a moment to bat at the webs surrounding his face, roaring as he pulled some from the wall and then growling loudly when they stuck to his hand. Peter swung up onto the ceiling, looking upside-down only to find Hulk shaking his hand aggressively to try to get the webs sticking to him to fall away. 

Peter couldn’t keep denying himself what he knew was true: Hulk looked adorable with the same crease Peter enjoyed furrowing his brows together and a sweet little pout on his face when he started poking at his palm ineffectively. 

His laughter rang through the silent room, and he sucked in a sharp breath to quell his burning lungs as he called, “Focus, big green!” waiting until Hulk looked up at him with a look of surprise colouring his features before he started moving. 

With a grin, Peter broke out into a dead sprint, running over the ceiling directly at him. As he kept moving he aimed, then shot out a web at Hulk's hand where it was hovering in the air, getting it covered in webbing before he yanked with all his strength to pull him off balance. As he stumbled forward, Peter jumped down and landed behind Hulk on light feet. He immediately broke out into another dead sprint, pushing himself as fast as he physically could when he heard footsteps start to slam after him.

Peter was fast, but Hulk was faster. The distance started to close between them so Peter jumped into the air, getting web-borne once again. He threw out his arm and made a sharp turn, the same way he'd done countless times before as Hulk ran after him, but this time his entire body went tight, mid-swing, and he threw out a web that snagged on the floor and pulled him into a head dive towards the ground. 

As he rolled into a somersault before pushing him onto his feet, every inch of his skin tingled and he knew he’d just cut it way too close for his comfort. Breaking out into another sprint, Peter took long, leaping strides to try to put distance between them before he jumped, throwing out another web to get him back into the air a little desperately. He knew he could pick up more speed when he wasn’t stuck on the ground but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get away. 

Hulk was doing better and better with keeping up with him as he spun around the training floor, and Peter found he had to try much harder to keep avoiding him. As Peter’s heart beat quickly against his rib cage, he realized that Hulk was no longer blindly swinging his fists through the air, but that he was trying to cut Peter off. Shit. 

As impressed as Peter was at how fast Hulk was catching on, that was only secondary to the way adrenaline was slamming through his veins and keeping him moving faster than he’d ever moved before. He was just skating by on the edge of his teeth... until he wasn’t. 

Hulk’s hand gently tapped his back and threw him off balance. The web he’d been holding onto slipped from his fingers and he went free-falling through the air, hitting the ground hard. Peter burst out in laughter, rolling across the ground and coming to a stop on the flat of his back. He stared up at the ceiling breathlessly, giggles wracking through him. Hulk came to a stumbling stop above him, huge feet on either side of Peter’s body as he stared down at him with a look on his face that seemed half-way between horror and joy. 

“Smash Spider, but... laughing?” Hulk asked him quietly, and Peter started nodding his head quickly. 

“That was amazing Hulk!” Peter cheered, pushing himself to his feet and holding out his hand. 

Hulk stared at it for several moments before gently tapping it with one big finger. “Hell yeah! Good job big guy,” Peter praised, then felt his smile grow behind his mask as he asked, “think you can do it again?” before he was back to throwing himself through the air. 

And then, seconds later, Hulk was back to chasing after him.

“Spider-Man watch out! What are you doing?” roared Captain America, shooting through Peter’s concentration and throwing him off. 

He fumbled for the web he’d been reaching for and missed, fumbling through the air before managing to throw out his arm and grab another, swaying in a low arch that brought him only inches from the ground before launching himself back up to soar through the air. He shot out another web as Hulk’s gaining footsteps got louder and louder, taking a short turn through the open space that didn’t seem to get Hulk any further away. 

Crap! He didn’t have nearly enough time to build up the momentum he needed and Hulk was too close. The back of his neck was burning hot and the goosebumps erupted over his entire body. He tried to throw himself in another direction but Hulk was right there and he tried to turn again but all he could do was let out a startled cry when Hulk managed to hit him, the back of his hand colliding with Peter's torso and his left arm, sending him flying through the air and towards the wall. 

Peter spun wildly through the air, too disorientated to stop or slow his tailspin, and he collided with the wall with enough impact that it travelled through his entire body, the collision shaking all the way to the tips of his toes and the ends of his fingers, and his neck snapped back and—

Chapter Text

Peter woke in a rush of flailing limbs and panicked thoughts, adrenaline racing through his veins as he jolted upwards from the floor. He was disoriented, enough so that it took him a moment to collect his bearings. Gasping for air and frantically pushing himself into a sitting position, it was only Karen's calm voice in his ears that kept him from freaking out even further. When he glanced around the room, dread pooled low in his belly at seeing the entire group of Avengers—James and Tony now included—crowded around him in a loose semi-circle.

Ah, crap. That probably didn’t mean anything good, huh?

Peter groaned loudly, though it was more out of annoyance than pain as he pushed himself into a sitting position.  He did his best to ignore the pounding in his head, wondering if that was more out of annoyance than pain as well. Thankfully it was lessening even as he got himself into an upright position, but it wasn’t going away nearly fast enough. It felt like his head was going to beat its way out of his skull with how aggressively his brain was pulsing. Damn, was this what a concussion felt like?

Figuring he probably wasn’t concussed, since Karen hadn't said anything about it and she’d, like, totally know if he was, Peter took stock of the rest of his body. Which... well it all hurt, actually, especially his right arm. Peter figured it must have collided with the wall he was thrown into, all because he had his concentration shot. Frowning under his mask, he cradled his right arm against his chest as he got his feet under him, not liking the fact that he felt so defenceless with so many threats standing before him and backing him into a wall. 

“How long was I out?” Peter asked the room as soon as he was standing, leaning back in a long arch to stretch out his back and groaning when something popped into place pleasantly. 

Ugh. Why were walls so freaking hard?

No one said anything. In fact, they all just sort of stared at him silently, so Peter looked down to make sure he didn’t have anything on him. Other than a little bit of rubble that he brushed away, he was clean. A quick look at the corner of his vision confirmed that his mask was still on in place. Well, okay then? 

“Uh...?” Peter started, trailing off under the weight of so many eyes, his skin crawling. 

“Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Karen's voice responded inside his mask—though by the way Scarlet Witch jolted back and the shifting expressions across the other’s faces, she echoed the answer aloud as well—and he smiled thankfully.

“Thanks, Kare,” he said warmly, grinning even wider when she said she was just doing her job. 

“Did you nickname your suit’s AI?” Tony asked him incredulously, finally stepping forward and away from the weird formation the rest of the team were in as his eyes flicked up and down Peter's form with worry clearly etched onto his face. Peter rolled his shoulders back, finally able to stop supporting his right arm, although that didn’t seem to make Tony feel any better.

“Of course I did,” Peter rolled his eyes behind his mask and by Tony’s snort he totally knew what he was doing, “she's my friend!” Peter insisted, once again, and knew that one day he would wear Tony down into admitting that AI’s were totally friendable people that Peter was allowed to nickname.

“Pe— Spider-Man, are you alright?” James asked from the side. 

Peter caught the slip-up right away, and the worry evident in his voice made Peter’s cheeks feel warm. They’d had such a lovely end to a rocky day after touring the city, and they’d texted or talked on the phone almost every day since. He really, really cared for James, and the slip-up was proof that he cared for Peter as well, even if he didn’t step forward like Tony had. That was okay, since when Peter finally looked at him he was holding himself tensely, his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists that Peter wanted to soothe.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Peter told him, darting his eyes over to Tony so it would be clear he was talking to the two of them. He rolled his shoulders again and grinned when everything felt a-okay. Neither Tony nor James looked convinced, and so Peter huffed out a breath and said, “Seriously, I’m all good.”

He looked around the room with growing worry, his eyes skipping over the rest of the Avengers even if their presence was making anxiety churn through his belly. Peter was super uncomfortable, but even worse than the skin-crawly feeling was the uneasy weight settling low in his belly that was making him feel more and more wrong-footed. He absolutely hated that these people had seen him vulnerable and he hated even more that he had been passed out in front of them. 

He didn't trust them. He didn’t feel safe around them. Just knowing he had been in such a vulnerable position for eight minutes, having no idea when Tony and James had shown up, was making the hairs along his entire body stand on end nervously. Knowing that, at the very least, he did have Tony and James with him now made him feel marginally better, but... it still felt like his skin was stretched too tightly across his bones. 

Taking a deep breath and doing his very best to push that feeling away, he scanned the group again, frowning deeply behind his mask when he realized there was a member missing and then feeling a pang of guilt that he hadn’t realized it sooner.

“Wait... where's Hulk?” Peter asked loudly, making sure that his voice carried even if he was unable to keep the mounting worry from echoing through his words. 

Before anyone else said anything, Captain America stepped up with his shoulders drawn back and his head held high, looking as self-assured and righteous as ever. When he spoke, his voice was so loud it rang through the training room and Peter had to lock his knees to keep from stepping back with the way his instincts were screaming threat. “We had to sedate him,” Captain America finally answered, and his tone was filled with so much unquestionable authority that Peter wanted to punch him in the face. 

Peter frowned deeply, his heart starting to race as he imagined all the things that may have gone wrong after he was passed out. Had one of the others stepped in and somehow upset Hulk? Had they done something that caused him to get angry and lash out, or was he so upset that he just lashed out to begin with? Possibilities, each one worse than the last, ran through his head rapid-fire, and he sucked in a sharp breath before he forced himself to bite out the question, “Why the hell would you do that?”

“He threw you into a wall,” Scarlet Witch spoke up in a tone of voice that sounded very much like she was implying it was an obvious answer to a stupid question. When Peter actually looked at her, she had her hands on his hips and a look on her face that Peter sneered at. If there was any single Avenger that Peter disliked more than Captain America, well—Scarlet Witch... more like Scarlet Bitch, damn. 

“Yes? We were training together?” Peter told them uneasily, though his voice raised at the end, making it sound more like a question than the statement he’d wanted. Hadn’t they all stopped what they were doing to watch them train anyway? Why were they all looking at him in such confusion? “Why the heck did you sedate him for that?”

“What?” Captain America demanded and Peter rolled his eyes at the commanding tone to his voice, wishing his mask would roll his eyes as well just so Peter could really express how annoyed he was.

Well, if Peter couldn’t show his annoyance via eye-rolling, he could at least sound as annoyed as he felt, so he asked, “What, what?”

Captain America huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking just as disapproving as Peter wanted. “What do you mean you and the Hulk were training?”

“Uh... we were training?” Peter repeated flatly, since he thought it was a pretty simple concept for an entire group of superheroes to understand, but considering how they were all staring at him with the same incredulous expression, he wondered if he’d perhaps stuttered. Hm, maybe his voice was distorting his mask? Or maybe they were just dumb? 

Someone scoffed and Captain America’s whole face looked... just really stupid, if Peter was being honest, and he crossed his own arms over his chest as he drew himself up, ready to go on the defensive if he needed to. 

“Wanna explain just why you were doing that?” Falcon asked him with a raised eyebrow and a look in his eyes as they tracked over Peter’s form that made him uneasy in a completely different way than the rest of the team.

Peter took a deep breath and kept his shoulders straight and chin up. He wasn’t going to let this group intimidate him, especially when he could easily handle most of them in a fight. “No one else was training with him. He was sitting alone and unlike with all of you, there's nothing here for Hulk to do himself,” Peter told them clearly, doing his best to keep the growing anger out of his voice as he quickly gestured to the huge room around them.

Silence rang out for several seconds before Captain America slowly said, “Training with him isn't safe,” over-enunciating in a way that made Peter want to punch him in the face. He may have been young, but he was every bit a superhero as the rest of them, and nothing bothered him more than the way they all talked down to him. 

“And why the heck not?” Peter demanded fiercely, something hot and protective curling up in his chest when he thought back to just how happy Hulk had been chasing him around the training floor, picturing the huge smile that’d been on his face.

“He's dangerous,” Black Widow told him plainly, her voice dripping with a level of condescension that even Captain hadn't reached before. Which... was actually as impressive as it was freaking annoying. 

Peter turned to her, his hands tightening into fists where they were tucked into his elbows, and when he spoke it was through a clenched jaw, “He's no more dangerous than any single one of you are.”

Black Widow looked at him in shock, though Peter wasn’t sure she’d ever had a genuine emotion in her life and rolled her eyes as she started to say, “That is not tru—”

“Oh really? Do you all think you’re harmless after all the shit you’ve done? He is just as dangerous as the rest of you are!” Peter repeated, keeping his voice as clear as he could manage when he was all but shaking in anger. This wasn't something he was going to give on, not after he’d seen just what Hulk was capable of when he was given the chance. 

He wasn’t what the others thought he was. 

But getting the others to see that was clearly going to take a little more work than Peter wanted, since Scarlet Witch sneered at him and spat, “He is unstable!”

Which... was actually super ironic, in Peter’s opinion, considering it was her calling him unstable. Rolling his eyes, Peter let out a snort at the claim. Sure, he’d only had like two conversations with Hulk, but just from those two conversations, Peter was clearly able to see that Hulk was way more than most people—including the Avengers—made him out to be. 

Peter had seen media coverage of Hulk enough times to know what the press said about him. But, Peter could already tell Hulk wasn't just some brainless, bloodthirsty monster who was good for smashing things and nothing else. That was just what he was reduced to. It was the box that Hulk was put in and never allowed out of, and it infuriated Peter, who could already see that Hulk had a fun, almost goofy personality and that he cared for other people. He was so much more dynamic than anyone gave him credit for, and Peter was able to figure that out in a total of two interactions... did the others really have no idea who Hulk was?

Clearly, they’d never taken the time to get to know him, if they really thought he was so dangerous and unstable. Heck, when Peter had first sat down beside him, Hulk had immediately asked Peter how he was doing after the last time they saw each other, which clearly spoke for not only his intellect, but his capacity for empathy as well. And, he’d done so verbally! Peter had to wonder if the group before him even knew that Hulk could speak, considering it took him some time to get warmed up. 

Did they ever even give him a chance? 

Hulk was... okay, maybe he wasn’t smart smart, but he definitely was not stupid. Not only had he almost perfectly understood Peter when he first got to the gym, but he had been able to follow Peter's directions as he chased Peter around, adapting what he was doing and the way he was chasing Peter until he eventually did catch him. Hulk listened and he learned and he did better and better throughout their game of tag, and he... hell, he was actually kind of cute. 

Peter flushed warmly under his mask at the thought, telling himself very firmly that he only meant “cute” in the most innocent, puppy-cute type of way and totally not believing himself. Cuteness aside, Hulk just wasn't the mindless, destructive zombie the media painted him to be, and he wasn’t the horrible creature that the Avengers also seemed to think of him as. 

If Peter already knew that, how the hell did they not?

Taking a deep breath, Peter ground out a single word in response to Scarlet Bitch’s unfounded accusation that Hulk was unstable, and asked a simple, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why ?” she asked shrilly, looking visibly taken aback at the question and the possible insinuation that Hulk wasn’t what they all assumed him to be. Gosh, they were such assholes. 

Peter took a deep very breath and counted down in his head, trying his very best to calm down. He looked at Tony and saw the same helpless anger he was feeling painted over his face. Peter understood why he was staying quiet and not saying anything; Peter wasn’t an official member of the Avengers which meant he could pretty much do and say whatever the hell he wanted, but Tony was, and he had to maintain some semblance of peace. 

Seeing his own feelings reflected on Tony’s face helped to simmer some of the burning anger that was making him feel like he was going to explode. As he watched the Avengers watch him, it felt like his skin was wrapped too tight around his bones.

“Why is he so unstable?” Peter asked in the calmest tone of voice he could possibly muster. “What has he ever done to make you think that, exactly? Destroy shit? That's all you ever ask of him!” Peter took a deep breath and regulated his tone, and when he spoke again he made sure he wasn’t yelling. “I had an entire conversation with him before we started training together. He understood me and he definitely understood what was happening as we started training—something that he had no other way of doing. Hell, he was actually improving before the Captain interrupted us and shot my concentration! 

“Was there any actual reason for you to sedate him? Or did you just somehow ignore the multiple minutes of tag you all watched us play, the second things went south, and decide, with no basis in logic, to sedate Hulk after he’d done nothing wrong?” Peter growled out the last sentence, anger rushing through him and causing a tremor to run through his entire body as he gestured sharply with his hands while he did his very best not to shout at them and kept his voice to a reasonable volume if his tone was laced with his rage. 

Captain America stepped forward righteously and started saying, “Of course there—”

“No,” James cut in firmly, his voice deep and commanding as he cut Captain America off. Peter cut his eyes over to him immediately and something about the anger laid out on his face calmed Peter down. He had both Tony and James in his corner and that... well, it was one more person than he’d ever had before, and that knowledge helped him to breathe deeply. 

James stepped forward, his shoulders squared and his jaw set and looking every bit the trained assassin he was, as he stated, “No. There was no reason to sedate him. Tony and I got into the room seconds after you were knocked through the air, and Hulk looked as distressed and I’d ever seen him. From what I’d been able to see ‘fore Steve made the order to sedate him, Hulk was all but pullin’ out his own damn hair and standin’ over ya.”

And that... that was too much. “Where is he?” Peter snapped as he vibrated with restless energy, his heart racing and his stomach churning and anger making his fists clench and unclench at his sides in a desperate bid to stop himself from lashing out.

“What do you think you're going to do?” Captain America asked in a voice that sounded like steel. Good thing Peter had super-strength and didn’t care one fucking way. 

“Dr. Banner is currently in Mr. Stark's personal lab. He appears to be meditating,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced over the training room’s speakers, loudly enough that her voice echoed through the room. The familiar tinny sound gave Peter something to focus on, but he still caught the disgusted look Captain America sent to Tony before Peter was turning away and striding quickly towards the elevator.

Peter didn't go straight to Tony's lab. He was way too angry to go and see Dr. Banner, especially if he was meditating. Peter sure wouldn’t have appreciated someone interrupting his zen with the amount of rage Peter was feeling, so while F.R.I.D.A.Y brought him to Tony’s personal floor, he headed for his bedroom instead of Tony’s lab. 

Even as he stalked through the silent halls, his hands shook at his sides, a fine tremor running across his entire body as he held himself taught. His anger was still burning white-hot under his skin and it felt like he was going to be split. He wanted to hit something, a physical release for everything that he was keeping inside, all the things he’d stopped himself from saying and doing because the Avengers weren’t worth it. 

Taking another deep breath that did nothing to calm him down at all, he slammed into his bedroom—well, slammed into the bedroom in spirit, because no way was Peter slamming around doors that Tony gave him—and started pacing across the long length of the room, hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides and shaking uncontrollably. 

His strides were quick and heavy as he walked the length of his room before he turned sharply on his heel and crossed back over the ground he’d just covered. Peter’s mind was whirling angrily and his whole body felt like it was drawn tight and ready to strike. His anxiety was still thrumming nervously in a way his senses saved only for the Avengers, always aware of just how big of a threat they all were to him, and he realized, suddenly, that he hadn’t felt that way about Hulk. 

There had been one moment when Hulk had made him nervous, when the big guy first lifted his hand, but after Peter had calmed down, he hadn’t felt anything too bad again. It hadn’t been anything like the way Captain America or Scarlet Witch always made him feel, and he stopped in his tracks when that realization seemed to rush through him. 

“How can they be so ignorant?” Peter demanded of Karen, shaking his hands out when his fingers started to go numb by how tight his fists were. 

“I’m very sorry, Peter, but I would say your guess is as good as mine,” Karen told him calmly enough that it penetrated his swirling rage and he took a few deep, steadying breaths to try to get himself under control even though he still felt like he was going to shake out of his skin. 

It baffled him that out of such a diverse and varied group of people, it seemed like not a single person had ever bothered to take the time to get to know one of their own. How was it that the people who should know him the best just blindly treated Hulk as if he were some mindless creature? Had anyone other than Tony ever even talked to him? By what they’d been saying about him in the training room... he didn’t think so. 

If Peter could understand him after five minutes it definitely wasn't that hard. It had taken them a minute or two to work things out, but after there they’d been able to understand each other perfectly, so it wasn’t like there was some type of communication barrier there. Hulk was just as much a member of the Avengers as any of the others. Were he and Tony the only ones who bothered to look past the callous media portrayal of him as some sort of mindless and violent killing machine?

Did Hulk just mean so little to all of them that they had never even bothered to get to know him?

Peter tugged off his mask with a noise of frustration, running a hand over his face roughly. He was still agitated, but the rage had died down enough that he was no longer shaking where he stood. He felt his shoulders fall under the weight of all the unanswered questions he had, held down by the unfairness of it all. He couldn’t help but picture Hulk’s excited, joyous face as he chased Peter around. Peter could only imagine what Hulk had looked like after, especially considering what James had told him.

It just... it wasn’t fair. Peter knew it was that unfairness that was burning through his blood and making him feel so angry and unsteady, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something about seeing others get treated so poorly that made him angrier than anything else. Annoyance swirled under his skin knowing that a group of people that stood for so much “good” were the ones that were treating one of their own so poorly. 

“Dammit,” Peter said under his breath, scrubbing over his face as he tapped the centre of his chest to get his suit to release. “I hate them.”

“The feeling is, I believe, mutual,” Karen told him, a tinny voice from where he’d tossed his mask onto his bed. 

Feeling his body stoop, Peter did his best to clear his mind. Focusing on the rest of the team wasn’t making him feel any better and he knew that there wasn’t anything he could to improve the situation, so focusing on it was just going to bring him down even more. He took another deep breath and rolled his shoulders, letting his suit fall to the floor. If he couldn’t do anything about how the Avengers saw Hulk, he could at least clean himself up. 

His bedroom had an attached bathroom that was equally as luxurious as the bedroom itself. Every single time Peter used it after training or to clean up after working with Tony in the lab, a little thrill ran through his belly at just how amazing it was. At home with May, their bathroom had a toilet, a small little sink, and a shower big enough for one and one only. Peter’s personal bathroom at the tower was literally as big as his bedroom—if not even bigger—and had not only a walk-in shower that Peter was pretty sure would fit, like, four different people if he tried, it also had a soaking tub, which Peter had yet to use but looked at longingly every single time he came into the room. 

Today, Peter went right to the shower, pushing down his briefs and stepping into the large, luxurious stall, shivering when his bare feet met cool marble. The water started up without Peter having to say anything. It was a little strange thinking that F.R.I.D.A.Y was everywhere on Tony’s floor, but he did his best not to think about the fact that she knew he was in the shower and focused on being glad that she had his ideal temperature set to run automatically. 

Peter let out a soft sigh when the way steaming water cascaded down his back, tipping his head up to let the rainwater shower head run directly onto his face. Hot water ran over his skin and he did his best to let it carry the tension along his shoulders down the drain with it. He focused on breathing deeply, enjoying the way the bathroom almost smelt fresh and soothing. Peter was pretty sure there was something in the water, actually, and he washed away the grime from his body, he let that aroma calm him down even further. 

The steady beat of water against his skin was equally calming, and he focused on that sensation as his twirling mess of thoughts slowly slowed and flowed out of him with the last of his tension, until he was able to breathe easy. He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he finally stepped out through the glass door, but he was able to take a deep breath of steamed air as he reached for a towel and wrapped the fluffy, warmed material around his waist with another, happier sigh. 

Padding out into the bedroom, Peter made his way to his bed and grabbed the bag he’d dropped there earlier, pulling out his civilian clothes as he dried himself off. Peter knew that Tony would outfit him an entire wardrobe if he so much as even suspected that Peter would like that, but Peter was more than okay with the worn, comfy clothes he had (and preferred). 

Peter pulled on the pair of briefs he’d brought him before he tugged up his track pants, reaching for his phone which had landed near the mountain of pillows someone kept on his bed. He replied to a text from May as he scratched his belly, patting it with a frown when it rumbled. Well... he had expanded a lot of energy playing tag with Hulk and he figured his healing had burned through even more so... 

Yeah, totally a good time for a snack. 

Peter replied to May again as he scarfed down another... few energy bars (the peanut butter ones were just so good, it wasn’t his fault!) before shuffling back to the bed to grab the shirt he’d brought, pulling it over his head. He felt the last bit of his headache fade away when his healing kicked in, and he smiled easily down at his phone, rolling his eyes at May’s text-based-teasing about the “mysterious older man Peter was definitely not with”. 

Sure, James was in the Tower, but it wasn’t like he and Peter were hanging out. Which, actually, wasn’t a bad idea that Peter pondered as he finally left his bedroom, his suit still on the floor. It wasn’t like any of the Avengers actually had access to this floor and on the off chance anyone who didn’t know Peter’s identity did get up here... well, Peter couldn’t actually imagine that anyone would be able to get up here in the first place, so he couldn’t really think of what would happen to them if they somehow did.  

Which was why Peter hadn’t bothered to put his mask on before leaving his room and was easily able to get down one more energy bar—assorted fruit, yay —as he made the familiar route to Tony’s personal lab. He checked with F.R.I.D.A.Y as he went just to make sure Dr. Banner was still there, and after a confirmation that he was and was no longer meditating, Peter stepped up to the thick, glass door that kept the workshop closed sealed off from the rest of the hall. 

The doors opened for him and he smiled up at the corner of the hallway where he knew one of F.R.I.D.A.Y’s sensors was bound to sit. Taking a hesitant step into the lab, the doors slid shut behind him and the lock engaged with a hiss of pressurized air as it sealed shut. It didn’t take long before spotting Dr. Banner, seeing as the whole lab was one big, open plain covered in tables and technology, a little “living” space tucked into the corner. 

That living space was where Peter found Dr. Banner, curled up on the very large and very comfortable couch that Tony kept stashed in here for his “nights of excessive genius” that always ended with him crashing on the very couch. He was hunched over where he was sitting with his legs drawn up under him and focusing on a StarkPad so intently that he didn’t even seem to notice that Peter was there with him. 

Well, he didn’t want to disturb the man if he was busy, so Peter quietly made his way across the lab, wishing he’d put on socks since the floor in here was much colder than the floor in the rest of the tower, seeing as it was a much tougher material to handle all the stuff Tony threw at it—sometimes literally if something wasn’t going right. Cocking his head to the side, Peter took in the heavy frown that was marring Dr. Banner’s face. It was almost eerie looking at him now that he’d had time up close with Hulk, and just like he’d been able to easily note the similarities between Hulk and Dr. Banner when he was talking to the big guy, he was just as easily able to clock the similarities now. 

Hulk really was a blown-up, green version of Dr. Banner. Even now, the only real difference that he could spot was the sharpness of Hulk’s jaw (if Peter was being really honest with himself, as cute as he thought Hulk was, he liked that Dr. Banner was a little bit softer), now that Peter had Dr. Banner in front of him again, and the very tip of their noses. 

Huh. 

Even from where he was standing, still a few feet away, he could see the furrow of skin in between Dr. Banner’s eyebrows and felt his cheeks heating up at the sight, remembering just how endearing it had been on Hulk and finding it even more endearing on Dr. Banner, even if he was a little worried about what the man was studying so intently. If it was Tony he would just interrupt him to ask. If it was James, he would quietly make his presence known by clearing his throat. If it were any of the other Avengers, he would have already walked away because the last thing he ever wanted to do was talk to any of them. 

But... Peter realized with a little bit of a start that he didn’t know Dr. Banner. While Peter had admittedly strong opinions about the rest of the team, Dr. Banner—outside of how much Peter looked up to him for his strides in both Genetics and Biology and all his amazing research—he hadn't formed any sort of opinion on him. And... that was probably because Dr. Banner was never around when Peter was. He was certainly never at the group training the odd time Peter was made to join and that was really the only reason that Peter ever interacted with the other members if it wasn’t out on the field. 

But Dr. Banner wasn’t ever out on the field, only Hulk was. And while Peter really liked Hulk, Dr. Banner could be a totally different story, even if Peter did want to like him. After all, he had a whole list of things already going for him. Firstly, he was super smart, so smart that even Tony respected his genius and had talked about the things the two of them had come up with a number of times. Secondly was the first that he was even in Tony’s personal lab, a place that none of the Avengers were allowed on, since none of them were allowed on Tony’s personal floor to begin with. Just the fact that he had access to this floor was a plus in Peter’s books, considering it almost assuredly meant he’d never hurt Tony in any long-lasting, brutal way. 

And thirdly... well, Peter might have a little bit of a crush on him, and he really didn’t want to hate him. There was definitely that. 

Before Peter could keep pondering his crush on Dr. Banner, the man groaned loudly and suddenly enough that Peter made a noise of surprise, and then his eyes were snapping over in shock. They widened as they ran over Peter’s body. As soon as their eyes met, all of Peter’s initial worry for Hulk and Dr. Banner came rushing back at him full force—thankfully without any of the accompanying anger from earlier—and he hurried over until he was standing at the edge of the couch, wringing his hands together in front of him. 

“A-Are you alright?” Peter asked worriedly, tugging his lip between his teeth and wincing when his voice cracked. His heart was racing in his chest, wondering what had happened to Hulk after he’d been passed out and hoping against hope that he would be okay that he wouldn’t be too mad at Peter for getting him sedated in the first place. 

Outwardly Dr. Banner looked okay, but he didn’t answer Peter’s question and the silence between them stretched on uncomfortably. Peter watched his face closely, looking for any signs of pain or distress, anything that may have been caused by the fact that Peter had wanted to play tag with someone no one else wanted to give a chance. Just as Peter was trying to keep his anger down and stop himself from getting wiled back up, Dr. Banner’s eyebrows pulled down in an obvious show of confusion, making the little crease between his eyebrows stand out even stronger than it did on Hulk’s blown-up face. 

Biting even harder into his bottom lip, Peter did his best to stifle a laugh at just how familiar the expression was.

Finally, Dr. Banner’s mouth dropped open, which... considering he was sitting and Peter was still standing looked kind of obscene from the angle he was looking down at, and he had to very quickly avert his eyes as his cheeks went super warm. Peter’s eyes dodged around the whole room before finally landing back on Dr. Banner’s face without anything else to focus on, and he saw that he was still mouthing at the air. 

Eventually he made noise, and when he did he asked, “Peter?” with confusion thickly threaded through his voice. 

Peter tilted his head to the side at the tone in Dr. Banner’s voice, but he quickly said, “Uh, yeah?” before he took a very deep breath and managed to rush out, “look... I'm r-really sorry I got the big guy in trouble. It totally wasn’t what I was trying to do at all, and if I knew Captain America was going to sedate him just for playing tag I would’ve just stopped and explained to them what I was doing from the start.”

Cutting himself off, Peter found that his blush got even darker after his little bought of rambling. His blush, which only got worse when he realized that Dr. Banner was staring at him and not saying anything. Dammit , Peter swore to himself, you were totally spazzy!

“Excuse me?” Dr. Banner asked him, with the same edge of hopeless confusion that had been there when he’d been confirming Peter’s name. 

Well. Peter dived into another explanation. “It's just... I’m really sorry for the way the team all seemed to blame Hulk when it was really my fault in the first place. I was the one that went up to him to begin with! He was probably just being polite by letting me sit with him, but I really hadn’t wanted to interact with the others very much. 

“Looking back now, I know that I totally should have warned them, or at least Tony, about what we were doing, I just really didn’t think it was that big of a deal! I mean, I still don’t really think that it’s that big of a deal, since we were literally just playing tag together, but I am super sorry, super sorry that they sedated him. Is he okay? They totally shouldn't have done that, he was doing so good!” Peter explained in a rush, taking a huge gulp of air when he finally got everything out.

Then, he noticed the way that Dr. Banner was staring at him, and he dropped his eyes right down to the floor in shame, finding himself unable to meet Dr. Banner’s eyes after such an embarrassing ramble. Even more than that, though, was the way that talking him out had made him realize just how horrible he felt for getting Hulk in trouble in the first place! He felt ridiculous for doing something so foolish when all he would have needed to do was tell someone that they were training together but... Peter shouldn’t have had to tell someone they were training together, right?

As far as Peter was concerned, they should have just left the two of them alone, and the anger he felt at the Avengers for reacting the way they did crept back up inside his chest until he felt a frown pull at his lips. 

Dr. Banner made a noise that drew Peter’s eyes up. His heart started racing when he saw that Dr. Banner was staring at him so intently that Peter almost felt like he was being studied, which... wasn’t really all that bad when it was Bruce Banner doing the studying.  Peter's heart kicked up when Dr. Banner's eyes widened, his mouth dropping back open in a way that was still very distracting, before he asked, “Wait... are you Spider-Man?”

Peter rocked back on his heels even as he nodded his head slowly, forcefully pulling his brain out of the gutter that it had fallen into and trying to get it to catch up with what was actually going on right in front of him. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and hummed. “You didn't know?” he finally asked, feeling his own eyebrows pull down in confusion. 

Dr. Banner shook his head adorably, looking very much like Hulk for a moment, and Peter watched, fascinated, as the man's cheeks turned a very appealing shade of red that Peter found himself unable, or perhaps unwilling, to take his eyes from. Replaying the last few seconds, Peter realized the confusion must have been over why the heck Peter was apologizing to him, and the eyes widening must have been realization.

Wow. Alright. Peter guessed he could now add Dr. Banner to the list of people he’d accidentally revealed his identity to. Dammit, Parker. 

“Oh,” Peter mumbled after the silence had gone on so long it was super uncomfortable. He blew out a breath from between pursed lips, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at Dr. Banner’s still flushed cheeks, gnawing on his bottom lip for another few seconds. “Well... uhm, yep? That’s me. You mean... Tony didn’t tell you that? Of course Tony didn’t tell you, he would have never done that. I just figured that, well, since I was up here and you were up that you had to know who I was, since I’m usually pretty chill about my identity on Tony’s floor. Clearly. Since I’m not wearing my mask. Hah!” Hah? Hah! Peter, get it the hell together! “Right, so... I, uh, just wanted to make sure that you were alright?”

Silence. Bone-chilling, ringing silence as Dr. Banner stared at him and didn’t say anything at all, probably because Peter had totally freaked him out by being so... Peter-y. Dr. Banner was just staring at him, and Peter kinda liked that Dr. Banner was staring so intently at him but he also didn’t really like it that much, since he had no idea if it was a good stare or a bad stare and if it was a bad stare, he definitely wouldn’t have liked it at all. 

But then Dr. Banner shook his head, which was totally freaking cute as shit, and he asked, “Are you alright?” with a lot of feeling that caused Peter’s entire body to feel super warm with the concern that he could hear in the man’s rumbling voice. 

He nodded quickly, breathless, doing his best to keep his arms flat by his sides instead of fiddling with his fingers like he wanted to. He knew that it was a nervous tick and boy, was he nervous. “Yeah, I'm totally okay! I don’t even think that Hulk hit me that hard to begin with and my healing is pretty good, so I was only passed out for a few minutes,” Peter told him quickly, dropping his eyes back to the floor as he tried to think of something to say, feeling awkward just standing there. “Look... I really am okay, and I—I just really, really wish that Hulk hadn't been sedated. Captain America really shouldn’t have done that... I’m just really sorry that you got sedated.”

Dr. Banner stared at him silently for a few rapid beats of Peter’s heart, before he explained, “What are you talking about? Hulk attacked you!” He nearly jumped from his seat as he waved the tablet still in his hand wildly about. “Peter, I’m thankful that Hulk was sedated. Who knows what he would have done after that?”

What else he would have done? Just as Peter was opening his mouth to ask what he was talking about, he managed to catch sight of the screen, and from the very brief glance he saw, it looked like Dr. Banner was watching footage of the training room, and that it was currently paused on a still of Hulk’s back. 

Huh. 

Peter felt his head fall to the side in a show of confusion, feeling even more confused at the fact that Dr. Banner was watching their training session than at the vehement declaration it somehow been Hulk’s fault that Peter had gotten hurt. “Dr. Banner... Hulk didn't attack me?”

Dr. Banner’s whole face seemed to fall into something that made Peter’s chest feel tight, and he finally let his fingers tangle together in front of him so he could run his index finger up and down the length of his thumb over and over again. Under the heavy look in Dr. Banner’s eyes, nervous fiddling seemed to win out. 

“I...” Dr. Banner trailed off, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly before he shook his head and stated, “Of course he did! I just watched the footage, Peter, and there is no way you can tell me he didn’t attack you.”

“No,” Peter started slowly, his heart hurting at the absolute certainty in Dr. Banner’s voice, as if there was nothing else he could possibly even imagine, as if Hulk had to have been the one in the wrong. Was... did Dr. Banner feel the same way about Hulk as the rest of the Avengers? 

“No, Dr. Banner,” he finally continued, taking a deep breath and trying to brush down the same anger that’d been coursing through him earlier. “When I got to the training room, I saw that Hulk was sitting on his own off in the corner. I realized that there wasn’t anything for him to do, and that didn’t seem very fair, so I asked him if he would want to train with me! He was all for it, and since there isn’t anywhere in the tower for him to train alone, I felt really bad.”

“Of course there isn't a space for him!” Dr. Banner protested, his voice much higher-pitched than it had been a moment ago. “Hulk is dangerous, Peter! He threw you into a wall and knocked you unconscious!”

“We were training,” Peter reminded him. There was something wild in Dr. Banner's eyes, and it made Peter uncomfortable. Why was he so insistent that Hulk had been in the wrong when Peter was clearly telling him that wasn’t the case?

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain calm and push down any anger he may have felt at the man’s words, knowing that being upset wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “Hulk didn’t throw me into a wall, not in the way that you’re making it sound. We were training together, which was my idea, and I was the one that asked him to train with me. We were basically playing tag and I was giving him pointers the entire time, trying to get him to focus. At first, he was just blindly chasing after me, but he was doing so good by the time Captain America interrupted us. I wanted him to hit me, and if the damn team hadn't freaked out after they distracted me in the first place, I would have woken up and things would have been just fine and I could have talked to him and made sure he knew that I was proud of him!”

Dr. Banner shook his head back and forth slowly, as if he was trying to convince himself that what Peter was saying couldn’t be true. Did everyone but Peter and Tony think that Hulk was some sort of crazed monster?! “That's not possible,” Dr. Banner said slowly, as if he was sounding out the words and shaping them carefully. Underneath it, though, there was something in his voice that Peter didn’t like, even if he didn’t know him all that well. 

Dr. Banner opened his mouth, closed it, and then slowly said, “There's... there's no way that all could have happened.”

“Dr. Banner, I had an entire conversation with him before we even started training. He remembered me from the last time we’d seen each other and he asked me how I was doing, and then I asked him if he wanted to train. It... the video you were watching, was it the video feed from the training room?” Peter asked quickly, and when Dr. Banner nodded his head, he told him, “then that has to be on the video too. I swear!”

He knew that he sounded like he was pleading, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Heck, he was pleading. Pleading for someone else to realize that Hulk was more than he’d ever been allowed to be. He really, really wanted Dr. Banner to believe him, for Hulk’s sake and for Dr. Banner’s. Peter had no idea what it might possibly be like to have his body taken over by someone else—and if there was one thing he was absolutely certain of, it was that Hulk and Dr. Banner were not the same person—but it had to be worse when you thought that the person taking over your body was some type of monster. 

It just... it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Hulk, who’d looked like he was having so much fun chasing after Peter. And Peter had fun too, more fun than he’d ever had at a training session before, and he knew it was all because of Hulk. And... well, he was proud of what he and Hulk had accomplished together. Hulk had followed his pointers and he’d listened to the direction that Peter was giving to him, and by the end he was doing so much better at keeping up with Peter than he’d been at the start. 

He just wanted to share that excitement with someone. He wanted to congratulate the Hulk, and instead, Hulk had been sedated all because the Avengers thought that he was dangerous. Because Dr. Banner thought he was dangerous. 

Dr. Banner didn’t say anything. Instead, he slumped back into the couch with a really heavy sounding sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. Peter didn’t know what to do, and he stood there quietly and watched as Dr. Banner did something on his StarkPad. Suddenly sound blared from the speakers, and Peter recognized his own high voice talking to Hulk, holding in an awkward cringe at hearing himself speak. He followed the conversation in his memory, recounting how Hulk had pointed at him and asked how he was doing in his own, non-verbal way. 

Peter smiled to himself as the conversation went on, letting his eyes closed and picturing Hulk’s happy face as he agreed to chase after Peter, biting into his bottom lip to hold in a laugh as heard the tinny recording of his own laugh echoed through the room, easily able to pull up the memory of Hulk’s happy, excited face behind his eyes. 

The sound ended abruptly and Peter blinked his eyes open only to see Dr. Banner was still sitting where he was, but now his eyes were closed and he looked tense. An apology was on the tip of his tongue but he bit it down, knowing that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Peter picked at his cuticles and chewed on his lip as he watched Dr. Banner silently, wondering just what the man was thinking about so heavily. 

“I'm sorry,” Dr. Banner finally told him with a long, deep exhale, running a hand down his face and scrubbing at his jaw. When he finally looked up at Peter, there was something about the heavy lines across his face that made him look older—no less attractive, Peter noted to himself with a bit of warmth settling over his cheeks—but certainly worn down. 

“There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Dr. Banner,” Peter said softly, reminding himself of the same thing as he quietly added, “Either of you.” 

Dr. Banner flinched back and Peter almost took it back, but he couldn’t. Hulk hadn’t done anything wrong, no matter what anyone else thought, and Peter wasn’t going to let them all blame him for something he shouldn’t have been blamed for. 

Again, Dr. Banner didn’t say anything right away. Peter stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tried to wrack his head for literally anything he could say. Everything that he was thinking of was some sort of apology, though, all because guilt was sitting heavily in the back of his throat. Hulk had been sedated just because Peter had wanted to play a game of tag and had, foolishly, decided not to tell the others just because he didn’t like talking to them. 

Sure, Captain America had been the one to make the call, but would that have still happened if Peter had told him what he was doing before Hulk started chasing him? Digging his thumbnail into the other palm, Peter tried to force those thoughts away, knowing his guilt wouldn’t do anyone any good right now. Dr. Banner was still staring at the tablet in his hands like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, and Peter tried his best not to let it bother him. He probably wouldn’t be too keen with Hulk if he was in Dr. Banner’s shoes, either, so he tried to focus on that and not that way he was just one more person who’d never given Hulk the chance to really show off who he was. 

Dr. Banner let out another long breath before he put the tablet to the side, looking up at Peter with something in his eyes that Peter couldn’t make sense of. It was a heavy look, and he felt his cheeks start to go warm as Dr. Banner stared at him and Peter stared... somewhere in his general direction, all while doing his absolute best not to make eye contact or do something else completely ridiculous like drop to his knees right there and then. 

“Thank you, Peter,” Dr. Banner told him sincerely, and then he chuckled, dropping his own eyes to the floor before he added, “Oh, and you can call me Bruce.” 

Peter felt his cheeks get even warmer, and he knew that he had to be blushing ridiculously. “R-Right, sorry,” Peter mumbled, dropping his eyes back to the floor.

Dr. Banner— Bruce, which was making Peter feel all types of warm inside—cleared his throat before he asked, “So, you're Spider-Man?” which broke the tension that had built up between them. 

Peter nodded quickly, not quite trusting his voice when he kind of wanted to die and squeal all at once. He tried for a smile as he watched Bruce take a deep breath before he seemed to visibly shake off his mood before he looked back up. He motioned for Peter to take a seat on the couch beside him, and he had to remind himself to breathe before he started hyperventilating. “Is that... the other day when we passed each other in the hallway, I had no idea who you were. But you wanted to ask me something, right? Is... was it going to be something about being Spider-Man?”

Peter tilted his head to the side as he folded his hands together in his lap, trying to stop the nervous fiddling of his fingers even though he was sitting right beside Dr. Bruce Banner oh my god —and he tried to remember that very, very awkward first meeting without blushing too badly, even though he had totally made a fumbling fool out of himself.

Finally, he nodded, remembering what he’d been hoping to ask before Bruce had gotten all tense and left—which made a bit more sense now, knowing that Bruce probably thought Peter wanted to ask him something about Hulk (which really didn’t seem like his favourite topic). “Yeah! I was going to ask you if you might know anything about the sort of genetic mutation that caused... well, all of this.” Peter gestured down at himself with his hand, adding, “Tony is a genius, but his area of expertise isn’t genetics or biology.”

Bruce chuckled, which was such a warm, lovely sound that Peter almost whimpered.
“That’s true,” Bruce agreed, the skin around his eyes crinkling with his smile. Dear gosh, the lord is really testing me today. “He’s a genius, but you’re right. Technology is really more his wheelhouse. Well... I’ll certainly try my very best to help with what I can. Do you mind if I ask how that came about? I don't know much more than what the public does, which is nothing. For all intents, Spider-Man cropped up out of nowhere.”

Peter settled more comfortably onto the couch, pulling his legs up and crossed them underneath himself as he got moved to settle back against the couch’s arm, facing Bruce head-on. He didn't look nearly as upset as he had earlier, and the thought that maybe, somehow, Peter had been the one to help him calm down brought a smile onto his face. “Uhm... it was a spider bite?”

“A spider bite?” Bruce repeated plainly, raising an incredulous eyebrow that made his disbelief very evident. Peter snorted and then forcibly stopped himself from covering his mouth, doing his best to ignore just how embarrassing that noise was.

“Not just, like, a regular spider!” Peter protested defensively, throwing out an arm to show just how irregular the spider had been. “Do you know who Dr. Curtis Connors is? He was a biologist that worked for Oscorp.”

Bruce made a harsh noise, something that sounded like it was somewhere between a snort and a snarl, and Peter bit down on a smile. He wasn’t that big of a fan, either. “I knew of him, and that was more than enough.”

“Right,” Peter agreed, finally giving up the fight with his anxiety and tapping his fingers against his thigh in a quick beat, “well, a couple of years ago he was studying genetic mutations. I... I don't really understand most of it? To be totally honest it was... a little outside my area of expertise, and I was only ever privy to so much of what he was researching anyway. I never knew him, not personally, but I did get the chance to co-op at Oscorp during Sophomore year and I did my co-op for a team he ran. It was really cool, and I got to watch awesome experiments sometimes even if I mostly just, like, swept stuff up and cleaned desks. Still, sometimes I'd walk around and look at all the cool stuff going on.

“I guess my clearance badge had... way more clearance than it should’ve? I never actually noticed that I was allowed into rooms I shouldn’t be in because I literally just walked into any room that it would let me walk into, ya know? But one day I forgot a textbook I really needed, and I had to get Aunt May to drive me, like, really late to go get it. Big buildings are a lot different at night. I don’t know if you’ve ever walked around Tony’s Tower, but it’s weird, and I was just... a clumsy teenager, so it was kinda really scary, and I got a little lost. I guess I walked into a room I wasn't really supposed to be in? Like... really not supposed to be in. I only found out that it was Dr. Connors’ stuff after, when I... uh, when I lost the co-op for trespassing?

“I don't really remember that night super well, because I got super sick as soon as I got home, but I remember something biting my neck when I was leaving the office. It was this stinging pain that took forever to go away, but I was too creeped out about being in Oscorp at night to really care. Anyway, when I got home I just thought I was getting the flu or something, because I was really nauseous and sweaty. And then the next morning... well, the next morning I woke up with superpowers.”

Peter finished his speech with a silly little shake of his shoulders. Bruce hadn't said anything during Peter's entire story, though he nodded along at all the appropriate times which made it a lot easy to tell him everything that’d happened that night, even when he didn’t really like thinking about it all that much. He tried for a smile that he was pretty sure fell flat, but Bruce reflected it with one of his own that made his heart race and had him wanting to squirm in ways he definitely shouldn't want to squirm.

“And you know for sure what it was that bit you?” Bruce asked, his tone polite as he leaned forward like he was really interested. That at least made Peter feel better, since hopefully telling Bruce would lead to finally getting some answers about what it was that was going on with him. 

“Oh, yeah, it was definitely a spider. I didn’t know until the next day at school when I lost the internship, but that's the room I got in trouble for trespassing into, actually. Apparently it was a lab filled with genetically mutated spiders, ‘though I don't know much about how they were mutated, which is what’s making it so hard. All I know about the whole thing is that I was not supposed to be in there,” Peter trailed off with a huff, twirling his thumbs together in his lap as he dropped his eyes down his hands. 

He felt... it always made him feel like a fumbling idiot, not knowing anything about the way that his powers had come about. All he knew was that he had them, and that he’d gotten bit by something, and that something had most likely been a genetically mutated spider. And as curious as he was about where all the power he now had come from, there was just always too much going on to really look into it. Between school and hero-ing and just, like, living, Peter had never been able to carve out the time he needed to look into what’d bitten him. 

The worst part about now knowing was that he was smart, he knew that he was smart, but he didn’t think that he would be able to understand the sort of science that Dr. Connors had been known for, even if he was somehow able to get his hands on the information he needed. 

“That explains the how, but... there’s so little information about you and your abilities because you haven’t signed onto the Accords yet. What... what is it that you can do?” Bruce asked him breathlessly, his voice was laced with... something. Something that sounded like a lot more than simple curiosity, something that sounded interested in a way that made Peter want to tell him everything, just to keep hearing that something in his voice. 

“I'm really strong,” Peter told him quickly, definitely aware from his years of Hero-ing that that was what tended to surprise people the most when he showed up dressed in spandex and... not looking very intimidating at all.“I am, uh, really strong?”

Bruce nodded before his own eyes dropped to his lap before flashing back up. “I saw you catch the Hulk's fist when we were battling Doom” Bruce admitted quietly, so close to a whisper that even if Peter didn’t need to, he leaned in closer under the guise of hearing him better. 

But... “Uhm, what do you mean saw?”

Bruce was quiet for another moment. Which, really, Peter was actually starting to get used to the stretches of silence that Bruce really seemed to like. Peter didn’t mind—just because his brain was always going, like, way too fast didn’t mean that everybody processed at what often felt like super-speed—and he kind of liked that Bruce seemed so thoughtful. That didn’t stop him from feeling bad for once again making the man feel bad, since his shoulders were suddenly all tense again. Sure, he didn’t even understand what he’d done, but he still said something that Bruce didn’t like, which he just seemed to keep doing. 

Eventually, Bruce took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders before he told Peter, “I, uh, tend to watch the footage back after the Hulk goes out on a mission, or when he’s up and about. That was why I was watching the training room recordings when you came in—I always check out what he does. ”

“So do you not... I’m sorry if this is too personal and you totally don’t have to answer this if it’s like, way too personal, but do you not remember your time as Hulk?” Peter asked him softly, dropping into his own whisper as the atmosphere in the room dropped and it felt like he could barely take a full breath with the way Bruce’s whole face twisted up into something that made Peter’s heart ache. 

“No. I can't remember anything when he comes out.” Bruce's voice was once again flat of any emotion, sounding just as distant as he had when Peter had first come into the room. This time he couldn’t hold back the cringe, hating the way Bruce’s voice had dropped into the same low drawl that it seemed to drop into every time Peter said something to upset him. 

“We are not the same person,” Bruce all but spat, and Peter flinched back at the anger in his voice. Bruce sighed heavily, and then he said, “I’m sorry. To answer your question, no. I was watching back a recording of that fight when I saw the two of you interact, and I saw you stop his fist. That couldn’t have been an easy feat?”

“O-Oh, ah, no? No, it wasn’t. Hulk is like... crazy freaking strong. I’ve definitely handled worse, but that was certainly not the funnest thing I've ever done,” Peter told him quietly even as he did his very best to sound as positive as he possibly could. As he looked up at Bruce from under his lashes and studied the haunted expression that was still on his face, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from whirling as Bruce talked more about his relationship—or lack thereof, really—with Hulk. 

By the looks of it, though, that wasn’t something that Bruce wanted to focus on, so after a moment he added, “So, uh, yeah, I’m strong. I'm also pretty fast, actually. I think one time with Tony I got up to a hundred miles an hour?”

Bruce whistled, which made Peter blush really warm, before he raised his eyebrow and he asked, “And the wall climbing?”

“Oh! That one is actually another reason I’m totally sure I was bitten by a spider. I found it out totally by accident—my clothes kept getting stuck to my hand and I literally couldn’t get dressed for, like, an hour that morning—so I started looking into it and I found out that it's a lot like how spiders do it,” Peter told him excitedly. 

He hadn’t ever had the chance to gush about his powers like this with anyone other than Ned, and he found that he was getting really excited to show off what he could do. It definitely helped that he was showing off to Bruce Banner, someone he definitely had a huge case of brainiac-love for and an even bigger crush on. With that in mind, he held up his hand with his palm facing the ceiling and flexed the same muscles he would when trying to stick to a wall. Just like he wanted, his palm erupted in what looked like goosebumps but were actually a million different hairs opening up and expanding until his palm was completely covered in them. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I totally have no idea why the heck it works through gloves, but it always has,” Peter shrugged his shoulders, looking up to catch the way Bruce was staring at him like... well, like he was something worth looking at. 

Bruce made a low noise of something that sounded a lot like interest and he leaned even closer, so close that Peter was certain he could feel his breath hitting his chin, and his hands came up to cradle Peter's gently. The simple, feather-light touch made his heart kick up into overtime as it started pounded so loudly behind his ribs he couldn’t imagine how Bruce didn’t hear it. His senses rushed by dizzyingly fast, catalogue every single thing about Bruce that he possibly could as time seemed to still. He breathed in the spicy scent of him, felt the way the callouses along his palms caught on Peter’s knuckles, memorized the speaks of gold around his iris, another physical attribute he had in common with Hulk. 

His heart was racing and his stomach was fluttering and Peter said absolutely nothing, terrified that he would somehow break the moment and silently allowing Bruce to do as he pleased. Doing as he pleased seemed to be holding his hand, and Peter bit into his bottom lip to keep in a crazed giggle. Peter did his very best to relax, letting the setules that were standing erect all over his palm settle back and smooth out before flexing them again. 

“Could I study you?” Bruce whispered, sounding breathless and excited as he swayed even closer, his eyes peering up at Peter from under his lashes and causing heat to swirl around his belly. Peter was nodding his head rapidly before he even processed the question, so caught up in Bruce’s eyes and the colour on his cheeks and the desire to do anything he wanted. “I would love to take a look at your blood, see what I can find out about where your powers come from, if that would be alright?”

Peter's words were hardly more than a whisper when he spoke, unable to push out anything stronger than a soft exhalation of air over his heart racing up in his throat, pounding so loudly in his ears that he didn't even hear his own voice mutter a weak, “Yes, please.”

Peter felt himself leaning in, drawn in by Bruce’s gorgeous eyes and the way he was looking at Peter like he was something amazing, but then Bruce slowly sat back with darkening blush staining his cheeks. He looked flushed and embarrassed and Peter could only imagine what he would have looked like in comparison, with the way he was aching with how badly he wanted to say something, anything, to draw the moment out. Words got caught up in his throat as he mouthed at the air, speechless and overwhelming and finding that nothing seemed to be enough to capture how he was feeling, how Bruce was making him feel. 

After a moment of them staring at each other without saying anything, Peter figured that it was best to not even try, though that led him to start floundering for something to say to ease the tension that was once again heavy between them, even if this tension felt a heck of a lot better than the tension from earlier, when Bruce had been upset. 

Suddenly, his phone started to buzz loudly and repeatedly from where he’d shoved it into his pocket, and Peter let out a gush of air as he painted a sheepish smile across his face, his heart still racing. It was a series of texts from James, all asking if he was alright, and he responded that he was physically fine which led to even more quickly typed texts. 

“I'm really sorry,” Peter lied, keeping his eyes firmly on his phone so he wouldn’t have to meet Bruce’s eyes and get lost in them all over again as he texted out a series of 'oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit' rapidly. “I've really got to... uh, go but it... it was really nice talking to you, Dr. Bruce. I mean, Dr. Banner. Uh, no. Bruce, right?”

“Bruce is fine,” he told him again, and his voice held the same air of breathlessness as it had when he’d been looking at Peter's hands. He finally managed to look up, but there was something so intense in Bruce’s eyes he dropped his gaze right away, not sure if he was strong enough to meet it. 

“Okay, okay. Great! That’s so great. I'll see you later? For the blood taking? We can do that later, yeah?” Peter asked, his voice laced with insecurity even as he stood up and tripped over his own feet, righting himself quickly and then dropping his eyes to the ground under the guise of watching his feet.

“Yeah,” Bruce told him, and his voice sounded weak. Peter gulped and told himself he absolutely could not march forward and climb into Bruce’s lap no matter how badly he wanted to and how badly it seemed like maybe Bruce would want him to as well. 

Peter backed out of the room quickly, eyes still down, and he threw out a stupid wave and an even more stupid (and super awkward sounding) “See ya!” before he stumbled into the glass wall, making a high eeping noise as he fumbled for the hand scanner that would let him out of the lab, throwing a wave and an awkward “see ya” before he stumbled into the glass, before finally getting the door open and falling out of the lab.

Only his enhanced balance kept him on his feet as he fell through the doors once they’d slid open, his heart hammering in his chest with mounting embarrassment even as something in his chest grew and grew until there was so much giddy pressure under his skin it felt like he was going to burst.

Chapter Text

Peter's phone buzzed annoyingly loudly—he was actually beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with the phone since he was pretty sure the vibration was much louder than it should have been; one too many crash landing with his phone on him, maybe?—and he quickly stopped it from rattling around on his end table by snatching it up, pausing the YouTube video playing on his laptop by hitting the spacebar. He settled back onto his bottom bunk comfortably, wiggling around to get back into a prime position. His computer was beginning to slide off his lap from when he’d leaned over to get his phone and he quickly got it centred over his hips before bringing his attention to his phone, now in hand. 

He swiped his phone open even as he kept his eyes focused on his laptop, taking note of where he was in the video out of curiosity—Peter was watching videos of Spider-Man web-slinging through the city and analyzing his form—sparing a quick glance at his phone so he could open the message without worrying about tapping on anything else. He wasn’t overly worried about rushing to read the message, seeing as there were only a very small handful of people who actually texted and, seeing how it was a Tuesday evening, he knew where they all were (and that they were all safe). 

When he finally pulled his eyes away from his laptop, he felt a smile tug at his lips as clicked into the text thread. 

From James (4:31pm): Free to chat?

Peter couldn’t help but smile wider at the question. James was the only person that he’d ever met who didn’t like texting, though Peter figured that was pretty fair since the guy was from the forties and only had one hand he could text with. Talking on the phone was, like, kinda super weird, but Peter didn’t mind it so much when he was talking to James, since he knew how much easier it was for him. 

Tapping the top of his screen to pull up James’ contact, Peter clicked on the icon that would start a phone call, smiling as he lifted his phone to his ear. It only rang once before James was picking up and mumbling a soft, “Hello.”

“Hello,” Peter chirped, answering in kind. He wiggled around his bed as he got himself comfortable, closing his StarkNote and placing it on the floor beside his bed so he could give James his full attention. 

Once Peter was comfortable and had stopped moving about so much, James cleared his throat gently. “How’re you?” he asked in a voice that was such a smooth timbre it had Peter relaxing into his bed with an even bigger smile. 

Being friends with James was really, really cool. Not only was he a totally awesome guy, but he was a superhero and he... well, there were a lot of things that Peter couldn’t talk about with anyone else (not even Tony, who was like, really old) that he could talk about with James. Having a friend that he could wholly be himself with like he could with James was awesome. 

“I'm... alright,” Peter told him slowly, taking a moment to actually think about how he was doing before answering. 

From a few of the conversations they’d had together, it was really easy to tell that James had... a certain issue with being lied to. Peter totally understood it. He figured that if he’d been enslaved by an evil spy cooperation for seventy years, he’d be pretty uneasy with anything but the truth as well. It wasn’t like he minded taking a second to really think about how he was doing instead of just answering flippantly. 

“Are you sure?” James asked him seriously, genuine worry in his voice and that made Peter smile a little softer. “I expected to see ya again after you went to check up on Bruce, but you never came back.”

Peter’s entire face went white-hot as he made an involuntary noise of something in the back of his throat, ducking his head even though no one could see him. Oh God, Peter had been doing a very good job at not thinking about his... moment that might not have even been a moment and may have all been in Peter’s head the last few days and now, well, he was certainly thinking about it now. 

“Oh gosh,” Peter said quietly, his heart kicking up and starting to beat wildly in his chest as embarrassment flooded him from head to toe. “Yes. I’m fine, I just, uh, went home?” The line was silent for a beat, and then Peter weakly added, “Uh... well I eventually went home?” 

James snorted, but thankfully he let it drop. It wasn’t that Peter didn’t want to talk about his time with Bruce, it was just... well, no, he totally didn’t want to talk about his time with Bruce. After all, he hadn’t even really let himself think about that afternoon or the moment that might not have even been a moment but he was honestly pretty sure it had been a moment and hadn’t just been in his head. 

“Sorry, I just... yeah, ya know?” Peter asked, not really sure what he was saying as he studiously did his best not to think Bruce holding his hand or looking at him with wide, gorgeous eyes. 

James snorted and said, “Yeah, sure,” but his voice wasn’t anything but teasing and friendly, so Peter didn’t really mind. James never made fun of him like some of the kids at school did and all of his teasing was just that, actual teasing. 

Taking a deep breath, Peter forcefully shoved aside anything he was feeling that had to do with Peter so he could focus on his new friend. As much as they talked, Peter realized with a start that this was one of the only times that James had been the one to initiate the conversation. And it wasn’t that James never talked to him, it was just that Peter was usually the one to text him first. 

So the fact that James texted him first and asked to call him—which Peter was learning usually meant that James didn’t want to deal with the hassle of texting and that there were almost undoubtedly going to have a long conversation—meant that there was probably James wanted to talk about. 

So with the cheeriest voice he could manage and all of his thoughts focused on his friend and nothing else, Peter asked, “Really, I'm alright. Now, why you can’t distract me so easily, mister. Why are you calling? Was it just to check up on me?”

There was a beat of silence that seemed to echo over the line. It was answer enough, and Peter chuckled under his breath with the way he could practically hear James' quiet guilt at not calling to check up on Peter, though Peter really didn’t mind. After all, they’d talked that evening, when Peter had done his absolute very best to avoid any mention of Bruce just like he was doing now, and it wasn’t like anything crazy had happened over the last two days. 

There was nothing for James to be sorry for, but Peter knew he really cared and would probably feel bad no matter what. He seriously had no idea how to tell him not to worry about him, though, so he stayed quiet and gave James his time, just like he sometimes needed. 

“I...” James started to speak, before he cut himself off with a rough noise. Peter made his own noise in response, something that he hoped was sympathetic. He heard James breathe roughly over the line and felt his heart give a little ache. Something was really bothering him. “It’s just that I... I needed to talk to someone. I feel like I'm goin' fuckin’ crazy holed up in this goddamn tower.”

By the time that he was finished speaking, he was breathing harshly. Peter made a sympathetic noise and quickly told him, “I'm so sorry,” and then took a second to think out how to answer that. As happy as he was that James was coming to him with his problems... Peter really sucked at advice. At a loss at what to say, he asked “So you don’t like living there? I really had no idea that you disliked it so much. You haven’t mentioned it before.”

James snorted and told him, “S'not that I don't like livin' here, as in livin’ in the tower, s'that I... I don't like livin' with Stevie all too much. Not anymore, anyway.”

Peter made another soft noise, just something so that James would know that Peter was listening to him. At a loss, he let another bought of silence ring between, partly to make sure James didn’t have anything else that he wanted to tell him and also so that he could have another minute to think about how the heck he was supposed to answer that. 

As much as he was surprised by the show of vulnerability on James’ part, he was mostly just really honoured by it. Yeah, they were friends, but he hadn’t realized that James thought of him as someone he could really talk to until now. 

So, with a smile he felt a little bad for wearing but couldn’t fight down now that James seemed to care for him as much as Peter did, he asked, “So the problem is that you’re not happy living with Steve?”

James exhaled harshly and said, “I mean, I’m sure that I’d be a helluva lot happier if he wasn’t always fuckin’ around.” 

“Oh, James,” Peter said quietly before he asked, “Do you have your own space?”

“I don't got a lick of space that Stevie can't come into any time he wants,” James grumbled roughly, and Peter could imagine how deeply he was frowning just by the look on his face. “It’s always like... no matter where the hell I go, he's always right fuckin’ there, always somehow in my business and tellin' me what to do and how to act and it makes me feel like I ain’t my own person. I fuckin’ hate it.” 

Peter listened attentively as James explained how he was feeling, realizing with a bit of a start that he had no idea how the other Avengers lived. Of course, he knew that most of them stayed in the tower full time—if only because of all the bitching Tony did about it and how much Peter absolutely hated them taking advantage of Tony’s generosity the way they did—but he had no idea where in the tower they stayed or how they lived. 

Aside from Tony, Peter really knew nothing about the team. Sure, there was the possibility of Peter getting to know Bruce, which was very exciting and very terrifying, but the rest of them... yeah, no, Peter didn’t know anything about them. After all Tony had his personal floor that Peter spent his time on, and he’d been on the training floor and a few of the floors open to Stark employees, but that was it. Other than those few floors, he had no idea what was inside the Tower.

Huh. He should probably ask Tony about that. 

But focusing on the Tower’s schematics was absolutely not what he needed to be doing, especially with the way he could hear James breathing heavily over the line. Taking a deep breath, Peter did his best to sound comforting as he hesitantly asked, “If he's bothering you that much, can you tell him?” 

Yeah. No, he definitely wasn’t very good at giving advice, that was for sure. 

James scoffed like the idea was completely ridiculous. “You can't tell Stevie shit no more. It's like he knows everything, all the fuckin’ time, like he's the smartest damn chap in the entire freakin' world,” James vented loudly. The phone shifted, and then he could hear what could only be James stomping around. “He wants me to be the same kid from Brooklyn and I'm not him anymore and nothin’ I fuckin’ say is getting that through his thick fuckin’ head!” 

James ended his rant with a growl. The tone in his voice hurt, stinging at Peter’s chest, and the defeated, broken tilt to his words made his heart ache for him. 

James was so amazing and he... he didn’t deserve the way Steve was treating him. 

“I'm really sorry he does that,” Peter told him sincerely, feeling a bit lost and more than a little useless as he floundered for words that wouldn't come. Peter just hoped that being sympathetic was enough to help James feel better, since he didn’t seem to be able to offer any sort of advice.

“It’s just that... the way he’s always actin’ makes it seem like he don’t wanna see me as someone else. He wants me to be the same Bucky Barnes that he lost in the war but I ain't that person no more. No matter what I try to say or whatever the hell I do, he don’t see me as anythin’ other than what he wants to see me as. And I ain’t the man I was in the forties. Hell, I barely even know who the hell I am now, but I sure as hell know I ain’t the Bucky Barnes he’s clingin’ to ‘n... he don’t wanna see the person I am now.”

“I’m really sorry,” Peter said, feeling stupid for just repeating himself when James was baring his soul. Awkwardly, he admitted, “I'm not great with advice,” feeling himself wince

"S'alright, Pete. I just wanted to talk to someone. There ain’t no one here I’m real close with, ‘n it felt like I was gonna go crazy if I didn’t get all of that off my chest. “ James told him heavily, sounding unbelievably tired. Peter wanted to reach through the phone and give the man a damn hug, and he felt bad that he couldn't. The more James was telling him, the more it didn’t really sound like he had any other friends which...

Well, James was awesome! 

“ You can always talk to me,” Peter was quick to reassure him, pushing as much honesty into his voice as he could. James already meant so much to him, even if they hadn’t been friends for that long, and Peter was always there for the people he loved. “Seriously, no matter what or when it is, you can always come to me if you’re feeling upset or if you need someone to talk to. I’m always going to be a text of a phone call away, okay?”

Peter bit into his bottom lip as he waited for James to answer. He knew that sometimes he could come on a bit strong. He knew that it could be off-putting, sometimes, with the way he latched on. It didn’t happen often, but when he did he rarely let those people go and he knew that James was now one of his people. 

He just hoped that James wouldn't be. 

“Thanks, Peter,” he finally told him, letting out a long breath that “whooshed” through the speakers. “Really, thanks for listenin’ to me. It's just... it can be real frustratin'.”

“I bet,” Peter chirped, wondering how much he could hate a national superhero. “What if... what if I talked to Tony? Maybe I could ask him about setting something up for you, something that you can do that is independent of Steve and—and the rest of your past? I don’t really know a lot about your different hobbies but, like, having something that’s just yours could be really good! If nothing else, it would give you a reason to have time away from Steve?”

James let out a shuddering breath that Peter tugged goosebumps up over Peter’s skin and caused his heart to twinge. If just the idea of being away from Steve made James sound like that? Well, Peter was absolutely determined to not only talk with Tony, but make sure he agreed with Peter’s totally awesome plans for James’ independence. 

Peter was shocked out of his plotting when James cleared his throat, and he focused back on the phone in time to hear James thickly say, “That sounds real fuckin’ good, actually.”

“I'll do it the next time I see him then,” Peter told him happily, feeling much better than he had only minutes ago since he now had a plan for making James feel better. 

James let out a little laugh and then said, “Sorry I was such a downer.”

Peter made a noise of disagreement, telling him, “I totally don't mind, James, really. We’re friends, and I’m more than happy to listen to my friends when they need to talk, okay?” 

James made an agreeing noise before they both fell silent. Peter wasn’t sure what else he could say without sounding, like, way too weird, so he kept quiet and listened to James breathe while they sat on the line together. It wasn’t that weird since James wasn’t saying either but, from the volume of his breath, hadn’t moved away from the phone either. 

It... was actually really comforting. Sometimes Peter felt lonely, when he was hanging out at home and May was at work. It wasn’t all that often he was home alone, and now that he was, it was way nicer than Peter could have thought to just sit with his phone pressed to his ear, knowing that James was on the other line. It kinda felt like he did when he and Ned sat together and did separate things; they were still together and they were still spending time with each other, even if they weren't interacting.

A few minutes later James took a deep breath, and then in a much lighter voice, he asked, “Alright, ‘nough ‘bout me. You can’t put it off forever, Pete. How'd things go with Banner the other day?”

Peter choked on his saliva and then blushed, violently, feeling his entire face going warm as he spluttered uselessly. “W-what do you mean ?” he squeaked, several octaves higher than his normal speaking voice. 

James snorted at him. Rude! “Well, you seemed pretty damn pissed when you stormed outta the trainin’ room as soon as Friday told you where Bruce was. Don’t take a scientist to figure out that you went to talk to him, and then you didn’t even come see me ‘fore you went on home. I was figurin’ that things must’ve gone pretty damn well, ‘specially since you haven’t said a peep ‘bout it since,” James explained with a teasing smile evident in his voice. 

Peter felt his face get even darker. Oh goodness, he could just imagine how red his cheeks had to be. Making a noise from somewhere in the back of his throat, his heart started racing as he thought about Saturday for the first time in any real detail, seeing as he hadn’t been letting himself think about it at all. His heart was already racing with embarrassment, but he started wiggling his legs as the memory of Bruce’s hands under his and how close they’d been. 

“It was fine!” Peter squeaked and then cleared his throat twice before adding, “Yeah. Yeah, it was totally fine! I, uhm, actually I didn’t go right to him, I showered first to calm down.”

“Showered? Where?”

“I have a room at the tower,” Peter told him, then rolled onto his side and lodged his phone between his pillow and his ear while he did his best to stop squirming. 

“Wait, you got a room? Where the hell’d you get that? And where is it?” James asked him incredulously, sounding a lot more confused than what Peter thought the question called for. “All of us got rooms on the same floor, ‘cept for Bruce and Tony.”

Well, that definitely explained the confusion and where all of the Avengers lived. Huh, it kinda made sense that they were all on their own floor. At least that was Tony would be able to keep track of all of them at once. “I have a room on Tony's personal floor, actually.”

“Huh,” James mumbled quietly, then asked, “So what happened after that, seein’ as you didn’t come back?”

Oh, there was Peter’s blush, ramping right back up to full force. “Uhm... I went to see him? I had to shower to calm down ‘cause I was so angry at the way the others were talking about Hulk, but I was also really, really worried about him after Hulk had been sedated. I went to make sure that he was okay,” Peter admitted, gnawing on his bottom lip as he tried to get his thoughts in order. “But... Bruce was fine? I guess. I don’t actually know if that means Hulk was okay too, though. I... uh, I forgot to ask.”

“Forgot to ask, huh Pete? There sounds like there’s a story there,” James teased with a laugh. 

“Ngh,” Peter groaned, shoving his head against his pillow. 

“Hey, come on, I’m just kiddin’. “I'm sure he's good, Hulk’s a pretty big fella, after all. Banner was okay?”

“I mean... he seemed okay? After we talked a bit, actually. ‘Cause at first he was pretty upset that Hulk had attacked me, which didn’t even happen and it... well, it actually took me a lot to convince him that Hulk didn’t attack me and I’m not even totally sure that he did believe me. Oh! And he didn't know that I was Spider-Man, which, okay, hindsight! I guess I should have realized that there was no way he would’ve known but I thought he would have figured it out the other day when we ran into each other,” Peter told him in a rush, taking a deep breath before he summarized his rambling with, “But... I mean all in all he seemed okay. A bit confused, at first, but we got everything cleared up and then he was super nice.”

Peter still wasn’t totally sure how he felt about Bruce knowing. It was one thing to think that the man had figured it out on his own after they’d run into each other—since, like, how many teenagers was Tony going to invite to his personal floor?—but it was another thing altogether to actually admit it to someone. Ned had found out by accident, Tony had found out... well actually, he probably found out in ways that were totally illegal, but Peter hadn’t really had to confirm it. 

Ned had seen him taking off the suit. Tony had pulled down the suit. He... thinking about it, he actually was the one to tell Bruce, since he hadn’t found out by accident or illegal means like Ned and Tony had. And that... well, that was certainly different. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do—or at least, not till he was at least in, like, college or something and told the press or signed the Accords, which he was pretty sure meant he’d have to give up his secret identity. 

It made him feel wrong-footed, knowing that he’d actually revealed his identity to someone even if it had technically been an accident. The strangest part of it all as just that someone else knew. For so long, it’d only been Ned and Peter, seeing as they found out pretty close together. He figured that MJ had a suspicion, but she’d never declared anything, so that was just a hunch that mostly existed ‘cause MJ kinda knew everything . 

Having Bruce know was weird. It almost felt like he’d given Bruce some sort of power over him that he’d never meant to give, but... he didn’t think he really minded, not all that much anyway.

Before he could think any more about Bruce having power over him—Jesus Christ Peter junior, calm down —James cleared his throat, which thankfully jolted Peter enough he was able to stop thinking totally inappropriate thoughts about a scientist he hardly knew and had a moment that might not have even been a moment with. 

“Wait, how'd you run into Banner? He's never around the communal spaces since he’s got a floor of his own that he hangs out in.”

“He was on Tony's floor,” Peter told him, shifting onto his other side as he ignored any leftover bodily signs of interest related to thoughts of Bruce as he stifled a yawn. “I work with Tony in the lab after school some days, and I was on my way there when we literally ran into each other.”

“Yeah? How'd that go, then? He usually ain't too talkative with any of us,” James asked, and Peter latched onto the distraction to forcefully stop thinking about the moment that might not have been a moment they’d shared.

“God, it was so embarrassing,” Peter told him, remembering just how awkward he had been the first time they met. Yes, good. That was much safer territory. There was nothing arousing about making a fool of himself, that was for sure. “James I was literally so star-struck. It was like I literally couldn't even form a coherent thought because all I could think about was how much I loved him and how much I look up to him and how smart he is and all the amazing articles I’ve read from him!”

“Is that so?” James asked in a tone of voice that sounded way too interested. Oh God, he’d totally rambled. 

“I mean, like, he was nice,” Peter said in his very best convincing tone, sounding as flippant as he possibly could even though he was pretty sure it was too late to save any sense of pride. 

“Nice, huh?” James asked in the most ridiculous tone of voice Peter had ever heard. Yeah... definitely too late to preserve any sort of pride. 

“Yeah. He was... he was really nice,” Peter repeated, forcing himself to stick with it even as he started squirming in embarrassment all over again. 

Having a gigantic crush on Bruce Banner was one thing. Telling James about that gigantic crush was another, infinitely more embarrassing thing. 

James laughed at him, which was very rude, thank you very much, and asked “What about Saturday, huh? Was he just as nice when you went to comfort him?”

“Mhm,” Peter mumbled, taking a deep breath and shoving his face against his pillow before he muffled out, “He was, uh, very nice, actually.”

“Ah, so he was just nice?” Peter could hear the no-doubt teasing smile in James’ voice even if he did his very best to ignore it. He knew James wasn’t being malicious, only teasing. 

“Just nice.” Bruce certainly had been nice, with the way that he had looked at Peter and the interested gleam that had been in his eyes when he held his hand and asked if he could take his blood. God, that had to have been a moment, right? People didn’t just ask to take other people’s blood while looking at them like... well, how Bruce had looked at him. “He. Uh. He... yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Jeez, are you gonna make me say it?” Peter mumbled under his breath, hiding his face even further in his pillow even though James couldn't see him. 

“It was really good,” he admitted quietly. “Uhm... I really like him,” Peter whispered, to which James let out a snort that Peter chose to ignore, “and he got really excited when I told him about my powers. He wanted all about how I’d gotten them and how they worked, which was kinda fun to talk about. He... he even asked if he could take my blood, to, ya know, to study it? I guess?”

“Huh, that’s some strange flirtin’,” James said, and Peter hummed. 

It was strange, but he really wasn’t sure if it was flirting. He wanted it to be, especially with the way he didn’t seem to be able to forget the way that Bruce had looked at him: cheeks flushed and eyes filled with excitement as he gazed at Peter like he was the only thing in the whole room, an image that was seared into his mind and made him completely breathless to think about.

“I mean... yeah, maybe it was kinda strange,” Peter admitted, rolling onto his stomach and resting his forehead on his mattress. “Even if it was a little strange, I don't really mind.” Peter didn’t say anything about how it may or may not have been flirting—if James thought it was... well, Peter was just going to let him keep thinking that. 

“Actually, I think that it could be kind of cool! I don't really know anything about my powers, and this might give me some answers, ya know? I know I got bit by some type of spider, but that’s really all. If anyone could figure it out, it would definitely be Bruce. He's so smart, especially in genetics, and there really isn’t anyone else as qualified as him! And, he wants to do it! Well, he wants to do it now that he knows that’s what I was going to ask him. Isn't that awesome?”

“Oh, definitely,” James teased, but it was soft, almost fond. Peter grinned widely. 

“Don't make fun of me, he's super hot,” Peter defended uselessly. James already knew he had a crush, might as well run with it. 

James laughed, but it still wasn’t anything but teasing. “Isn't he a little old for you?”

Peter groaned loudly, ignoring how warm he felt everywhere. The fact that he was older was... well, it certainly wasn't something that upset Peter. It was... nope, it definitely wasn’t a detractor, and that was not something that Peter was going to think about right now. “S'not like it matters, anyway. There's no way something would ever happen.”

“Eh, you never know,” James said, and Peter tried to believe him. Being with Bruce wasn’t even something that Peter considered remotely possible, despite how much he wanted it to happen. 

He shrugged even though James couldn't see him, holding his phone tighter against his ear as they breathed together for a few more quiet minutes. The fact that they could do this and Peter didn’t feel awkward at all meant more to him than he’d ever know how to say. 

“Enough about me,” Peter finally said with a pout, “are you feeling any better than were when you called?”

“Yeah, Pete,” James assured him, and the nickname made him feel warm every time James used it. “Thank you for distracting me with your giant crush on Bruce.”

“Hey!” Peter cried in mock outrage, if only to hear James laugh again. He took a deep breath to James’ deep chuckling before bracing himself to ask a question he'd been thinking about for days. “Would you... you know, you could always hang out with me and Ned, if you wanted to? I know you said that you didn't really like new people, but Ned is barely a person! Not—not, in like, a bad way, or anything, he's just really non-threatening! And he's super fun. Actually, I think you guys would probably get along really well, and I know he’d love to meet you. 

So... maybe the next time Steve’s bothering, you could come hang out with us?”

James didn’t say anything for so long that Peter was opening his mouth to take it all back when he quietly told him, “I can try.”

It was way more than Peter had been hoping for, and a giant grin broke out over his face when he made a ridiculously excited noise. He shoved his smile into his mattress as he pushed away thoughts of Bruce and his flushed cheeks and large, green hands holding him gently, and started talking about all the things he and Ned liked to do together in an attempt to sell his hanging out idea.

Peter stared down at his notebook feeling completely lost and wondering, not for the first time, if his English teacher even knew what she was doing. Peter had never seen any proof of a teaching degree, after all. Maybe she was a supervillain in disguise as his English teacher? Crazier things had certainly freaking happened. After all, the work question they were supposed to be working through made literally no sense and Peter stared at it until the letters began to blur on the page. Nope, didn’t make any more sense like this, either. 

Dear god, senior year was literally killing him. Peter should have known that it never would have been being Spider-Man that called him, but rather the atrocity that was high school English. Groaning dramatically and earning himself a snicker from Ned, who was sat opposite of him in Ned’s bedroom, Peter let his head flop against his open novel as he breathed in the scent of old, inked pages and a fair bit of dust, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

Work kept piling up. Schoolwork, work he was doing with Tony in the lab. With everything piling together, Peter was finding that he was having a harder and harder time getting all done while ensuring that he still went out for patrol each night, and that he left early enough in the evening for it to actually be worthwhile. There just didn’t seem to be a break in sight, despite there only being a handful of months left in the school year. 

He was pretty sure that he just needed a bit of a break, a chance to catch up on everything, but... well, it wasn’t like he could take a break from his schoolwork, and the work that he was doing with Tony was work that would help people, so Peter wasn’t willing to slack off there. Peter told himself, again, that taking a single, planned night off to catch up on his schoolwork wasn’t slacking off, despite it feeling that way. 

Tonight had been something he’d planned for weeks. It was just supposed to be a night with Ned where Peter wasn’t going to do anything other than study and catch up on his endless pile of assignments and assigned reading—seriously, why the heck did Midtown assign so much work during their final semester? It was a night when Peter wasn’t going to think about any of the unfinished projects sitting around and waiting for him in Tony’s lab (which were seriously all a thousand times more important and more interesting than his high school English homework). 

He wasn’t going to think about patrolling, either, or how badly he should be outside, making sure that the streets were kept safe. Seeing as it wasn’t even early enough for him to be going out on patrol yet that one wasn’t too tricky, but he knew that the later it got the harder it was going to be to stay inside—which was why he was spending the night at Ned’s since he knew his friend would hold him accountable to actually staying inside and not going out. 

No. Tonight was for school and nothing but school. Peter needed to focus on graduating high school, since he really couldn’t afford to fall behind any more than he already was (which, really, wasn’t that bad, but was still bad enough that he thought about it nigh constantly). After all, he’d already been accepted into a number of schools, all of his own merit—he knew that he could have used Tony’s name to get into anywhere he wanted, but... as he’d told Tony when the older man had brought it up, he wanted to get into schools for his own work. 

And he had, surprisingly enough. He’d gotten into not one, not two, but all of the schools that he had applied for and... well some of them were really prestigious. Heck, some of them were dream schools, and it had all been because of his own hard work and his own achievements. And, like Tony had said, it wasn’t like he didn’t work hard at his internship. But he did only have it because he was Spider-Man, which Tony had even reluctantly admitted, and it just didn’t seem fair to use that to his advantage. Peter Parker had gotten into his dream schools, and that... well it felt really, really amazing. 

Which was why he knew that if he let himself fall behind now, he could be losing a chance at the future he’d been working towards for the last three and a half years. No matter what, save the literal end of the world, would he let that happen. 

And so, even though it sometimes felt like he had so much going on that he was drowning in it all, he was going to stay on top of his schoolwork no matter what else he had going on. He had to, after working so hard for so long. With that final thought, he focused back on his textbook, trying to pay attention to his notebook beside him or the novel in his hand and finding his eyes ping-ponging back and forth uselessly because daydreaming or not, the work still made no freaking sense. 

With a rather dramatic (and fairly) pathetic groan, Peter dropped his head back down to where his text was sitting in his lap and groaned again. “What are we even doing?” Peter asked, thunking his head against his textbook again for emphasis. “This is impossible. I'm going to fail!”

“Peter, you're not going to fail,” Ned told him flatly, and Peter flopped backwards and star fished out on the ground. 

He lifted his head just enough to give Ned the most annoyed expression he could muster given the circumstances. “Dude, you don't know that! English is my worst subject and I really have to pull my mark up,” Peter whined, dropping his head back against the floor. The hardwood floor was cool against the back of his neck and Peter felt a huge yawn split across his face. 

Ned laughed at him, because he was the worst best friend in the world who liked seeing Peter suffer unreasonably, “Why don't we take a snack break?” he suggested. Alright, maybe he wasn’t totally the worst friend in the world. Then he kicked Peter’s ankle from his spot on his bed, and Peter looked up at him with a pout. Thankfully Ned spoke fluent Peter Parker, seeing as he rolled his eyes and said, “I'll go grab us something, lazy ass.”

Peter thanked him with a shout, drawing his limbs in then spreading them back out, making a little snow angel on Ned’s floor. Mid-yawn his phone pinged with an incoming text and he groaned once again, pushing his bum against the floor and feeling the length of his phone in his back pocket. He wiggled to get it out, pushing his hips up so he could grab his phone and bring it up to his face. 

Not bothering to look at the notification, Peter swiped his phone open and then promptly burst out laughing when the message content was a meme from James. Peter had no idea when the Winter Soldier had time to learn about memes, but James was a big fan. Peter kept laughing as he read the text post through a second time, bringing his other arm so he could lazily text out a reply.

“What's so funny?” Ned asked, coming into the room with a litre of pop and two bags of chips. Peter sat up excitedly when he spotted his favourite flavour of Doritos and wiggled where he was sitting, though he tapped out a quick reply to James' question of how he was doing before he grabbed the bag.

“Oh, it's just James,” Peter told him, letting James know that he would text or call him later depending on how late he stayed up working before sliding his phone into his front pocket. He ripped open his chips and with a smile still on his face, wondering how he managed to snag two of the most awesomest friends ever. 

“Who?” Ned asked, plopping back onto the bed with a curious frown on his face—which was a pretty understandable expression considering the fact that they basically had the same circle of friends, which was one another. 

Peter hummed around his mouthful of crunchy, barbecue-y goodness before he swallowed down a gulp of Sprite from the bottle Ned had thankfully sat on the ground beside him and asked, “Oh, uh, did I not tell you about James?”

Ned shook his head with an even more confused frown, leaning forward and holding out his hand for the pop. Peter passed it to him and felt a smirk curl around his lips as he waited for Ned to take a sip before he told him, “The other weekend I hung out with the Winter Soldier.”

Ned choked on the very big sip he’d taken, spraying Sprite out of his mouth and coughing aggressively enough that it actually looked a little painful while Peter laughed. He pounded on his chest and, still laughing, Peter was about to get up and make sure he was actually okay and not, like, dying when he finally pulled in a full breath of air. 

When Ned looked back at him, his cheeks were flushed a ruddy pink and his eyes were watering. Peter laughed again. “You hung out with who?”

Laugh dying into more of a nervous chuckle, Peter said “Uh, yeah?” as he tilted his head to the side. 

It wasn’t like he’d kept it from Ned on purpose, he just hadn’t thought to mention it. Ned’s guild had been having a get-together-party-thing, so he hadn’t been able to hang out that Saturday anyway. By the way Ned was gaping at him in what could only be described as pure, unabashed shock, one would think that Peter didn’t hang out with superheroes on a fairly regular basis. 

Actually, with the way that Ned was staring at him, you would think Peter wasn’t a superhero himself. “Jeez, okay, don’t look so starstruck, dude. You’re gonna bruise my ego,” Peter teased, adding, “but yeah, he followed me home after that fight with Doctor Doom, remember? I gave him my number ‘cause he seemed kinda lonely and we actually became pretty good friends.”

“You became friends with the Winter Soldier,” Ned repeated in a voice several octaves about his normal speaking voice, and Peter pouted at him. 

“Hey! Try not to sound so shocked, okay?” Peter bit out, taking another bit of chips with a heavier pout. 

“Sorry... sorry I just love him!” Ned gushed, smiling so wide Peter was almost a little unnerved. “You know he was my favourite Howling Commando!”

“Well yeah but...”

“You’re still my favourite superhero, dude, don’t even question that. I just... the Winter Soldier!” Ned literally squealed, not doing very good at sounding apologetic even though Peter knew that’s what the first part of the statement was meant as. “And you’re on a first-name basis with him, that’s sick!” 

“I mean it’s pretty cool,” Peter admitted, ‘cause he couldn’t even pretend that James wasn't totally awesome. Besides, Peter couldn’t keep his pout up under the force of Ned’s endless enthusiasm, feeling a smile slowly tug at his face as he asked, “Would you wanna meet him sometime? Maybe we could all hang out?”

“Oh, well, just let me think about that,” Ned said, tilting his head this way and that before he shot Peter a blank stare before exclaiming, “Dude, do I want to hang out with the Winter Soldier? Of course I do!”

Peter winced at the volume of Ned's voice, swaying back a little where he was sitting as his ears rang for a moment. One of the best parts of his suit was the way the mask moderated noise for him, and ever since Tony had built it in Peter’d been forgetting to make sure he was moderating his own hearing. 

Ned grimaced and apologized, stuttering as he said, “Sorry, dude. I-I’m just... well I'm a bit of a fan.”

The ruddy flush that had been staining Ned’s cheeks ever since his choking incident got even darker, and Peter felt a smirk tug at his lips. “Well, I’ll definitely ask if he wants to hang out, in that case.” 

“That would be seriously awesome,” Ned told him, and then threw a handful of Doritos at Peter’s face which started a war.  

All thoughts of schoolwork were temporarily pushed from their minds as they battled to the last chip. 

Chapter Text

Peter was trying to convince himself that everything was going to be okay. Nothing was going to go wrong, he told himself firmly, repeating the words like a mantra that echoed throughout his mind, playing over and over again until it stopped sounding so fake. After all, it wasn’t like anything was going to go wrong. All he was doing was introducing one friend to another friend—nothing disastrous there! 

Definitely nothing disastrous there at all. 

Right? 

Ah crap, Peter had probably jinxed himself, hadn’t he?

It was fine! It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Peter was just making it into a big deal because that’s what he did, he made things that weren’t big deals into big deals. Jeez, no wonder he was so stressed out all the time! As it was, today was not a big deal. No sir. Today was just a totally chill, totally low-key, totally casual day when all he was doing was introducing his life-long best friend to the person who was quickly becoming his other best friend. 

That was fine!

It was only James and Ned. Hell, Peter was sure that they would get along. Or at least, he hoped that they would get along. 

Obviously, being his life-long best friend, Ned was one of the most important people in Peter's life. But... James was quickly building a place inside Peter's heart as well. The reason that this all felt like such a big deal, when Peter really let himself think about it, was because it wasn't very often that he let people in. There was just too much there to let people in. There were the secrets and the superheroing and, sure, probably some hesitancy from all the bullying he’d gone through as a kid, too. 

And because of all of that, Peter just didn’t trust easily. When it came to James, though, none of that had mattered. That first day, in the alley, Peter had known that there was something more to James then everyone else always said there was. He wasn’t sure what had made him feel so sure, seeing as the guy had followed him home to make sure he wasn’t a threat, but Peter had offered to show him around for a reason. 

Something hadn’t let him just walk away. Not with James. And since then, they’d gotten so close in such a short amount of time that it felt like they’d known each other forever. 

Not only did they text throughout the day, but they talked on the phone whenever Peter had the time. It was kinda weird, since he’d grown up texting, but he understood that James had a hard time with it so he didn’t mind. It was kinda cool to talk to him on the phone when he could, anyway, since they didn’t get to see each other every day like Peter got to with Ned. 

James just understood parts of him that Ned never would, through no fault of his own, and having that was awesome. 

So even if he was worried about how the meeting was going to go, he was excited for them to meet each other.

He knew that Ned was nervous and James was apprehensive, but Peter, in his core, way down underneath all his anxiety, wasn’t anything but excited. Wanting his two friends to get along with each other seemed like a really understandable thing to be so nervous about, after all, and he tried to convince himself that they were going to get along with each other as well as he got along with each of them. They were really different people, sure, and they didn't have any of the common denominators that Peter had with either of them... but they were totally going to get along.

Right? 

Peter was totally freaking out for nothing and everything was going to be totally fine!

Groaning pitifully, Peter slammed his head against Ned's front door in lieu of knocking. When a count to ten had passed and no one answered, Peter slammed his head against the door again. He considered just slamming his head through the door, but then Ned would have to explain that to his parents, which probably wouldn’t go well at all.

Just like this wasn’t going to go well, Peter thought with another long groan.

Suddenly the front door swung open, causing Peter to go barrelling forward as he wind-milled his arms about. He screeched, sticking his feet to the ground and then pulling himself back to standing to the sound of Ned’s rich laughter. 

Peter shot him a dirty look that fell off his face when he realized Ned was standing on the other side of the doorway dressed in a nice, button-down t-shirt that Peter had no idea he owned, and a dark, fitted pair of jeans. Holy shit. Peter did a dramatic double-take before he gave Ned an appreciative once over that he definitely deserved, earning an eye roll and a smile. 

“C'mon in, loser,” Ned said in greeting, holding the door open wider and stepping aside. 

Peter did, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he looked Ned over again. “You look really good, dude,” Peter told him as he slapped their hands together in a high-five.

“Shuddup,” Ned mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing something out before he looked back up at Peter. He had no idea what Ned was doing, but he’d once told Peter that using his phone helped him manage his anxiety, so he wasn’t gonna question it.

If Peter was worried he could only imagine how Ned was probably feeling, with the way he’d totally gushed over meeting James. Heck, maybe that was why he was dressed up so nice! Ned certainly didn’t dress up like that just to hang out with Peter. 

Ned made his way into the kitchen, so Peter trailed after him once he’d closed and locked the door. Peter got himself a glass of water while Ned sat at one of the island chairs, putting his phone face down on the counter. Seeing as how Ned was usually glued to the thing, Peter appreciated what it meant for Ned to leave his phone face-side down. 

He leaned against the other side of the island as he sipped the chilled water that came from Ned’s sink as he drummed the fingers of his free hand against the marble countertop. Ned's family had money in a way Peter couldn't comprehend, living in his ratty two-bedroom apartment with May with the two of them surviving off her nurse's income. Ned’s parents... well, they were rich in the way most of the kids at Midtown were, in the showy way that made their house more an art piece than a home. 

Seeing as how they spent most of their downtime at Ned’s house it didn’t bother him anymore, but the first few times that Peter had gone over had felt strange, like he’d been taking up space that didn’t belong to him. Peter knew Ned didn't like it, especially because whatever exactly it was that his parents' did for work made it so they spent only a few hours a week together, if that.

During the years that they’d been friends, Peter had seen Ned’s parents disappear for weeks if they had conferences they needed to go to. He knew that Ned got lonely, and for that, he’d take his and May’s apartment over the extravagant house Ned lived in any day. 

Peter finished his water before he hopped up onto the island, swinging his legs back and forth as he yawned widely behind his hand. It had been a late night out patrolling until the sun was coming up, only for him to slink home and sleep for a handful of restless hours. The late-night had been worth it, considering he had finally busted the weapons ring he’d been following for the last couple of months, but damn was he tired. 

By the time he’d watched more police officers than he’d cared to count pack away the smugglers into a series of cruisers, he’d already been exhausted. Spending a whole night tossing and turning and worrying about Ned and James hadn’t made him feel any better. He’d barely been able to pull himself out of bed that morning, and as he sat on Ned’s counter, he felt the weight of his exhaustion heavy along his shoulders. 

“Late night?” Ned asked, tapping his own fingers against the table in what Peter knew was a show of nerves learned from him.

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one.

He spun around to face Ned, drawing his feet up and tucking his socked toes under his knees. They had a cleaner that came in every day, and it wasn’t like either of them cooked anything ever anyway. He watched Ned’s face, saw the genuine worry shining in his eyes, and shrugged his shoulders as he tried his best for a smile that wouldn’t look too forced. 

Peter nodded in answer, and when he forced another smile, it didn’t feel as fake. “I busted the ring.”

“Dude!” Ned exclaimed, jumping to his feet and moving so he could punch Peter in the arm. Enthusiasm dripped from his voice as he said, “That's freaking awesome!”

“Thanks,” Peter said, his mouth stretching into a wider smile as his chest went warm at the praise in Ned’s tone and the clear pride in Ned’s smile. 

He was proud of what he managed to do. Being a superhero was draining on the best of days, but sometimes Peter managed to do things that made him feel good, which made it feel like all the late nights and the non-stop nightmares and all the trauma responses were actually worth something. The ring he’d busted had been big, and he wouldn’t be surprised if things were, if not quiet, less deadly for the next couple of months. 

With that in mind, Peter slapped Ned’s hand when he held it up, but he twisted his fingers around Ned’s hand and pulled him into an awkward hug. Knowing that he’d done something that could keep people safe made his chest feel fit to burst, and it was during times like these he was so glad that Ned knew the truth about who he was. 

Ned hugged him back tightly, laughing against Peter’s face where his face had gotten mushed. Peter let him go after a second, forever glad to have someone like Ned in his life and by his side. After a second Peter let Ned go and he pulled back, a wide smile on his face as he asked Peter what exactly happened.

He smiled right back, and then he told Ned the whole story, gesturing wildly with his hands as he lost himself in the retelling, hashing through all the exciting details. Like he always did when Peter felt up to sharing, Ned listened avidly, openly curious and endlessly supportive. There were times when Peter didn’t want to be a superhero so badly he couldn’t even talk about it. During those times, Ned had gotten really good at letting him be, but during the occasional time Peter did want to talk about being a superhero, Ned was just as awesome at being a totally captive audience. 

He asked questions—but not too many and not about things that Peter wouldn’t want to talk about—and he made appropriate noises throughout the story that really made it seem like he was listening. Generally, he was just an awesome best friend. 

When Peter was done, their conversation bled to school and the approaching end to their senior year. It was something weighing heavy on both their minds, and they spent some time complaining. Ned was doing way better than Peter at staying on top of all their work, and if it wasn't for his organization and memory, Peter wasn't sure what he would do.

He was just beyond glad that they had the same schedule. 

Just as Peter was opening his mouth to complain about their English teacher, the doorbell rang. Peter jumped off the counter excitedly and looked over to Ned with a wide smile, only to find his best friend hunched over with a frown spread across his face. 

“I'll open the door,” Peter told him as gently as he could, resting a hand on Ned's shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. He waited until Ned met his eyes and gave him a nod before he moved away, sparing him one last look over his shoulder. 

While he was worried about Ned’s nerves, he tried to focus on his own bubbling excitement. Ned was just meeting someone he idolized, and Peter knew first hand how nerve-wracking that was seeing how many times it’d happened. He wouldn’t judge Ned for being nervous, not when Peter himself had such a bad track record when it came to this exact thing. 

His earlier nerves were all but completely melting away, and he had to stop himself from skipping to the front door in excitement. Telling Ned about his victory from his night before had totally changed his mood, and Peter was riding the wave of endorphins as he made his way to the door. He took a deep, grounding breath before he pulled it open, and a huge smile spread across his face as he reached for the handle. 

He pulled Ned’s door open to find James tapping his fingers against his thigh, wearing a dark shirt under a leather jacket and in a pair of jeans that were ripped across one knee. Peter raised an eyebrow at the tight fit of... well, everything that James had on, and suddenly felt out of place in his fitted track pants and too-big hoodie.

Had he missed a memo about dressing to impress?

Peter was still trying to think of something to say when James cleared his throat. 

“Hello,” James greeted him stiltedly, his eyes darting around the house. There was a familiar line of tension in his shoulders, and Peter tried offering a wider smile. James held up a plastic bag with a simple logo, and said, “I didn't know what to bring, so I brought chips?”

“Oh, cool!” Peter replied, moving slowly to grab the bag and peek inside. Oh, Doritos! He stepped aside so James could come in, closing the door behind him. “You totally didn’t have to bring anything but yourself, though! We weren’t expecting anything.”

“My Ma would’ve been real disappointed if I’d shown up to somebody's house with nothin’ for ‘em. Did I get a bad kind? I can always go back...”

“No! No, James, these are awesome. Ned loves Doritos, actually. And oh! Ned. He’s in the kitchen, if you wanna come and meet him?”

James nodded, but he didn't move until Peter did. There was something close to a grimace on James’ face that Peter was pretty sure was supposed to be a smile. As much as he hated thinking it, it made him feel really good knowing that he wasn’t the only one who was so nervous about this. 

Peter took a deep breath as he led James through Ned’s front hall. The taller man trailed after him, and Peter was happy to note that having James at his back no longer made him nervous. It wasn’t that he was any less of a threat, seeing as he was the Winter Soldier, but he wasn’t a threat to Peter, not anymore, and that made him grin. 

His smile stayed in place even when he glanced back and found James’ eyes darting around the room in a way that Peter was getting used to. James' eyes, no matter where he was or what he was looking at, were always sharp and assessing. To Peter, it seemed that James was constantly on the lookout for threats—and with the life he’d lived, Peter wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case.

As it was, James’ constant hyper-vigilance was normal to Peter after the few times they’d hung out.  

He led James into the kitchen, having a very one-sided conversion about his favourite Doritos, only to find Ned standing by the counter with hands shoved deep into his pockets as he worried at his bottom lip. He looked nervous, more nervous than Peter had seen him in a while, and his eyes widened dramatically as he stared at something past Peter’s shoulder. Seeing that the only thing behind him was James, he had a pretty good idea what Ned was staring at, but something flashed across his face that Peter couldn't name.

Peter tried making eye contact to see if he could figure out just what Ned was thinking, but Ned’s eyes didn’t stray. Silence stretched on with neither Ned nor James saying anything, until Peter’s mental count got to thirty and he awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“Uh... right. Okay, introductions. James, this is Ned, and Ned, this is James,” Peter waved his arms around as he introduced them to the other, feeling increasingly awkward when the silence still stretched on. He swung his head around to look at James, but too he was staring at Ned with an expression Peter couldn’t recognize. Huh. 

Cocking his head to the side, Peter took a wide step to the side so he wasn’t standing between the two of them any longer and did another, increasingly awkward, wave.

Then, finally, James stepped forward, and Peter watched as his eyes raked up and down Ned's form in a way that made Peter want to blush from the intensity of it. He almost cleared his throat, but when Ned hesitantly stepped forward he kept the noise in, watching as James offered his hand.

“It sure is nice to meet ya, doll,” James said, his voice a deep, rumbling tone that Peter had never heard before. 

Before he could even think about what that meant, his eyes were blowing wide and his mouth was dropping open because Ned blushed , his face going redder than Peter had ever seen it—including the time Ned got so sunburned he had to get a special cream from his doctor. Head cocking further to the side, Peter’s eyes played ping-pong with his two friends, snapping from Ned’s flushed face to James’ flirty smile.

Peter’s heart rate kicked up into overdrive as adrenaline started pumping through him while he watched them watch each other, wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Y-you t-too,” Ned replied with a freaking stutter , before he slowly reached out to take the hand James had offered. 

Their hands shook up and down for a long moment, and Peter could see the way James was rubbing his thumb along the back of Ned's hand. 

What. 

Was. 

Happening? 

It felt like the world had slowed to a standstill, and he watched, mouth dropped open in shock, as his best friends held hands in Ned's kitchen. Eventually it felt like he was watching something that he shouldn’t be watching, seeing a Ned and James were still just watching each other and holding hands—there wasn’t even the pretense of a handshake any longer, seeing as their hands were just hanging in the air—and he cleared his throat when he realized just how uncomfortable he felt. 

“So...” Peter started awkwardly, trailing off into silence when Ned quickly pulled his hand back and James' smile dimmed, just a touch. Oh crap, that was not what he wanted! Immediately, guilt crept up his stomach. James was standing tall, but Ned had curled into himself in a way that made Peter feel like the biggest asshole ever. 

He tried to think of something to say that might ease the rising tension, but his mind was totally blank. Absolute blue screen. He'd never witnessed something like this before—especially not with Ned!—though it wasn’t like Peter even knew what was happening, not really. Whatever it was, though, he really hoped he hadn’t just messed it up. 

Finally, he managed to ask, “Here, uh, I can take your coat?”

It took a few seconds, but finally, James nodded without saying anything. Peter watched as James’ eyes never wavered from Ned, and instead stayed on him until Ned must have looked up. James’ eyes didn’t move as he slowly peeled his jacket down his arms, his shoulder and his bicep flexing way more than they needed to. In fact, Peter had seen James take off a jacket before, and it sure as heck hadn't looked like this!

Then James stepped closer to Ned, which was technically closer to Peter as well, and he used his left arm to hand the jacket over, even though it meant crossing his arm over his chest in a way that made the gears whir. 

Again, what. Was. Happening? 

“Holy shit,” Ned breathed, and Peter whipped his head around to find Ned’s eyes stuck on James' now-bare metal arm. 

Which... well honestly Peter had to agree—James was hot, and while not entirely Peter's type, he could see the obvious appeal at the way his muscles were literally bulging and his metal arm was all... shiny. Ned totally had a thing for technology. With his eyes shooting back to James and the way they were still glued to Ned, Peter could see the appeal towards his best friend, too, especially with how dressed up he was. Peter’s heart did an excited little somersault at the possibility of someone else seeing it as well. 

Especially if that someone was James.

Peter had always thought that James was insecure about his arm, but now Peter figured the glove he usually wore was just to help conceal his identity. Which totally made sense, seeing as the metal arm was a staple of the Winter Soldier and on, like, all the toys that were made of him. The way he was showing it off now definitely didn't seem like he was insecure. Oh yeah, totally not insecure at all. 

The arm whirred quietly, and Peter heard Ned's breathing pick up in response. He actually moaned when James clenched his fist, the gears letting out the smallest hiss of air.

Ned was no longer looking at James' face and when Peter looked at him in absolute shock, he was very clearly staring at James’ arm. When Peter looked back at James he realized that his arm was literally shining in the light and glinting silver, and Ned watched it like it was... well, something infinitely more appealing than a metal limb had any right to be. Once again Peter’s eyes ping-ponged to James who was still staring right back at Ned, but Peter figured his gaze was locked on Ned's mouth and the way it was dropped open, tongue resting against his bottom lip in such an obscene way that even Peter was picturing certain things. 

Which, ew, that was Ned.

Peter choked on his own saliva, unable to get past the thought of Ned, the boy he literally considered a brother, in such a... compromising situation. Oh, god. No. No! Brain bleach. Brain bleach right away! Peter coughed loudly which caused both men to startled and look over at him sharply, obviously distracted out of their... whatever it was that just happened by the noise. 

Ned looked forlorn, his eyebrows raised helplessly halfway up his forehead, and James looked... Peter wasn’t totally sure, but he was pretty sure that the frown on his face and the way his forehead was creasing up was because he was disappointed. Oh, no. Peter did it again! Crap, and he still had no idea what to do, but he felt incredibly bad for interrupting the moment his two friends had been locked in, again! Curse his strong brotherly bond.

Peter desperately racked his brain as he tried to think of something he could say to ease the growing awkwardness, especially with the way the two of them were staring at him like he had to do something. 

Crap. Crap, crap, crap! 

“Did you want to watch a movie?” Peter blurted out, the very first thing that came to mind, and he let out a sigh of relief when Ned quickly nodded his head and James shrugged his shoulders.

Okay. A movie. 

He could work with that. Right? 

By the time the credits were rolling and the movie was coming to a close, all Peter could really say about it was that it was fine. He found that action movies... weren’t really all that great, ever since he’d gotten his powers and started living one. He had enough adrenaline in his day-to-day life to wanna watch two hours of silly, overly produced action during the little bits of free time he granted himself. 

But Ned liked action movies and James hadn’t seemed to mind when they asked him. Actually, when Peter really paused to think about it, it seemed like James just nodded along to whatever Ned said, since it was super clear he hadn’t been interested in the movie at all. In fact, it’d been clear from the very first scene that Peter was the only one even watching the movie!

Not that he minded, though, ‘cause while he was watching the movie, Ned and James were watching each other. Ned’s entertainment room had a couple of different couches, and Peter had spread out across a deep, comfy armchair when they first sat down. Ned had already been sitting on a loveseat that Peter knew was super comfortable. He’d sat on one end, but then James had sat right beside him instead of on the open couch.

Peter had been able to hear Ned’s sharp gasp of air and the really gentle way James asked him if it was okay that he was sitting there. After that Peter had focused on the TV to give them privacy and did his very best not to listen in at all. 

Halfway through the movie, though, he gave up giving them privacy. Watching Ned and James was way more entertaining than watching the movie. Since Peter had taken note of where James sat down, he could tell that he’d gotten even closer. It didn’t look like they were touching anywhere, but James’ metal arm was laying over the back of the cushion that Ned was sitting against. In fact, it may have even been resting along Ned’s shoulders, Peter just couldn’t tell for sure. 

The best part was the way their heads were bent together as they kept whispering to each other. Even though Peter was half watching the movie and half watching them, it didn’t seem like either of them had an idea. They were totally absorbed in each other and lost away in their own little world, and it made Peter smile softly for the whole two hours the dumb movie played. 

Both of his friends were awesome, awesome people. He was pretty sure that Ned was straight, but he’d support them both throughout anything that may happen between them, because they each totally deserved to be super happy. If Peter could help in some way, he was totally gonna do everything in his power. 

His smile fell away when the movie ended, though. It felt like some sort of spell had been broken and Peter stood to stretch out his legs, popping his back with a little groan of relief when everything shifted into place. He looked back to the couch, his mouth already open to complain about how hungry he was, when he watched Ned shift away from where James was leaning into his space. 

Fierce anger rose in Peter’s chest and clawed its way around his lungs. He was about to take a step forward, hands always curled into fists and ready to pull James away if he needed to, his heart racing and adrenaline pumping, when he saw the achingly vulnerable look stretched across James’ face, more open and earnest than anything Peter had seen of him before. 

He fell back a step, his heel landing heavily enough that it made a quiet thump, but each of them turned to look at him with equally guilty faces. Ned’s face was twisted into something confused and James looked desperate in a way Peter hadn’t ever seen from him before. Peter sucked in a breath and an apology was already on the tip of his tongue when Ned cleared his throat. 

“Peter, can I...” Ned trailed off into nothing, but Peter knew how to read Ned better than he knew how to read anyone else. 

He dragged his eyes over to James and found him staring at Ned intently, even though Ned was steadily not looking at him. Something unfurled in his chest, but he knew from the look in Ned’s eyes that he seriously needed him. He smiled, softly, and nodded his head. Ned’s entire frame relaxed as he let out a long breath.

“James, I'm gonna walk you out, okay?” Peter asked him without really making it a question. He walked over to the love seat they'd shared and offered him a hand, not giving him a choice to do anything but leave. 

Pulling James up was easy with his strength and he motioned for James to go towards the kitchen where his jacket still was, sending another reassuring smile to Ned that he hoped would help him calm down a little bit more. Just from the look on his face, he could tell Ned was too anxious for it to really work, but he hoped it would comfort him at least a little bit. 

He followed after James quickly, finding him holding his jacket in the middle of the kitchen and staring at the floor. There was something on his face that caused Peter’s heart to lurch. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, not when he didn’t know what was said or why Ned was upset, so instead he said nothing but he did step closer and hold out his hand with the most comforting smile he could dredge up. 

James reached out and took it. 

Peter gave him a wider smile and quietly led him through the rest of the house, retracing their earlier steps toward the front door. James’ hand was super warm around his, squeezing tightly enough that it kind of hurt but not nearly as bad as the day they’d gone out and James had broken his fingers. 

When they got to the front door neither of them made a move to open it, and James stepped right at his side, close enough that their shoulders brushed together. It made Peter feel all warm inside, knowing that James trusted him enough to hold his hand and share his space. 

James looked at him, but before Peter got the chance to say anything his eyebrows pulled down into an angry-looking frown.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked with a note of hurried urgency to his voice.

Peter squeezed his hand tightly and laid his other hand on his forearm. “No, I really don't think so. I think Ned just needs some time alone, and he wasn’t totally sure how to ask for it.”

“I—” James ran his metal-hand through his hair, tugging at the long ends as he let out a frustrated sigh. He took a step away so Peter let him go, and he watched worriedly as James rolled his shoulders then shook out his arms with another, rougher sigh. He seemed to pull himself together as he shrugged on his coat, but Peter could still read the tension across his body. “Alright. Will you let me know if he’s okay?”

“If I can, of course,” Peter promised, watching him worriedly as James nodded stiffly before he turned towards the door. He didn’t move at first, staring at the door but for several long seconds before letting out another sigh and finally moving to pull it open. 

They bid their farewells, Peter asking for James to text him once he was home safe, before he hurried back to the entertainment room. He stopped in the doorway to take in Ned’s hunched appearance, wincing at the way his head was hanging between his shoulders and buried in his hands. There was a defeated slump to Ned's shoulders that Peter hated, and he quietly moved to go sit beside him, close but not touching. 

At first, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, seeing as he didn’t even know what had happened. Whatever James had said had been too quiet for Peter to pick up when he wasn’t even listening, though now he felt awful for not having paid Ned more attention. 

“You okay, man?” Peter finally settled on, keeping his voice gentle as he did his best to be close but not too close. If Ned wanted to, all he would have to do to erase the space between them would be to lean to the side, but Peter wanted that to be Ned’s choice. 

Thankfully, he did. Ned shook his head in answer and took a few deep breaths before he leant to the side so their arms were pressed together. They sat like that in silence for a little bit, Peter sitting tall and supporting Ned’s side without saying anything. He knew that Ned would speak when he was ready.

When he did finally speak, his voice was hardly more than a whisper, though it sounded loud in the near-silence of the room. “You know... you know how you always tell me that sexuality can be fluid? That it... like, can change and stuff?”

“Yeah, man,” Peter said softly, laying his hand on Ned's knee as the boy pressed heavier against his side. Ned kept his gaze focused on the floor, and so Peter asked, “What's going on, dude?”

“I think I might be, like, hetero-flexible?” Ned’s voice trailed off into nothing, and Peter watched as he laced his fingers tightly together. Peter knew why he was doing it, and he covered Ned’s hands with the one that’d been resting on his knees and gave them a soft squeeze. Ned took a deep breath, and then he said, “I'm... I've always been totally straight. There's never been a guy I've wanted to bang before but... James is. I—fuck, Pete, I don’t even know! 

“I don't know and it's... fuck, Peter, he's fucking hot.” Peter chuckled, softly, at the blunt way he ended, though he leaned back against Ned so he would know he wasn’t laughing at him. He tightened his hold on Ned's hand and rubbed his thumb across his knuckles in slow strokes, 

“That’s really cool, Ned,” Peter told him sincerely, ducking his head so he could meet Ned’s eyes and give him a big smile.

Ned’s face was twisted into something anxious and sad that Peter wanted to smooth away. “Are you sure? Because I don't just mean hot, like, hot hot, I mean, like...”

“Like questioning your sexuality hot?” Peter asked, snorting when Ned turned to him with wide eyes and his head nodding so quickly his features blurred. “Trust me, dude, I totally know what type of hot you’re talking about. 

Ned snorted with him, and they shared a soft laugh before things got quiet again. Peter wanted to give Ned all the time he needed to come to terms with... well, apparently with his sexuality. Peter knew how tough that could be, and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure Ned. So they sat together quietly as Peter held his hands, leaning against one another.

After a few long minutes of quiet, Ned let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“God. I crush on a guy and it's the most hopeless crush I've ever fucking had,” Ned mumbled darkly, but even under the frustration Peter could hear the sadness in his voice.

“I'm not so sure,” Peter told him quietly, smiling softly when Ned shot him a sour look. “Really, dude! I've never seen him like this before.”

Ned scoffed and rolled his eyes before he said, “Haven't you hung out with him, like, once?”

“That may be true,” Peter started tightening his grip on Ned's knee, “but I think you should maybe try. At least to see what happens, right? He was really worried about you when I walked him out. He even asked that I call him to let him know if you’re okay!”

The slight pinking of Ned's cheek made Peter smile widely, overwhelmingly happy for his friend. He was being serious when he said that Ned should try; the way that James had looked at Ned... yeah, he was totally interested. 

He leaned over to bump their shoulders together, and Ned met his eyes after a minute. “Do... do you think that maybe...” Ned trailed off, but Peter heard all that he wasn't saying. 

Peter cuddled closer, slipping his hand between Ned’s to lace their fingers together and then covering the back of Ned’s hand with his free one, smiling when the other boy leaned into him even heavier. “Yeah, buddy. I've never seen him act like he did tonight and, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone act like that outside of a romantic comedy. He was totally into you!.”

“I'm not gonna get my hopes up,” Ned told him, and even though it wasn't the happy reaction Peter had been hoping for, it still made him smile at his best friend. “But I... I won’t stop something, not if it starts to happen.”

“Hell yeah! That's great, man,” Peter said seriously, his own heart suddenly feeling fit to burst with all the possibilities spreading out before two of his favourite people.

Peter's phone rang the second he stepped through his bedroom door, almost at the exact moment as the door clicked shut. He snorted even as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, not even bothering to check the caller ID. There was only one person it was likely to be, and Peter didn't think it was a coincidence, not a single bit, that the call came in when it did. 

He raised his phone to his ear but he didn’t say anything right away, even as he rolled his eyes and held in a second snort. Peter could hear James breathing through the line and he waited the man out, figuring it was fair seeing as how James was apparently watching him. It didn’t take too long, actually, and less than a minute after Peter had answered the call, James was letting out a deep breath that blew that crackled through the phone line. 

“Is Ned okay?” James’ voice was filled with an urgency he’d never heard from directly, but could recognize from the few times he’d listened to the comm recordings of Avenger missions, back when they’d first started back as a team and Peter hadn’t trusted any of them around Tony even less than he did now. 

It wasn’t funny that James sounded so worried, but Peter still felt a laugh bubble out of his throat at the thought of James being as worried over Ned as he was about world-saving superhero missions. 

“Yeah, James, he's okay,” Peter told him gently, a smile on his face and no doubt in his voice. 

Before he had left Ned’s place, he’d made sure that he asked Ned what, if anything, he should tell James. He wasn’t just going to share something if Ned didn’t want James to know about it, so he’d made sure he knew what Ned did and didn’t want him to share. “He's okay. He wanted me to let you know that he had a really great time with you today and was super happy you two met, he just got a little flustered and needed a bit of space to process everything.”

“Process what?” James asked sharply, and Peter could imagine the furrow that would be formed between his eyebrows when he frowned. 

Peter chewed on his bottom lip as he finally fell back onto his bed, letting out a whoosh of breath as he thought through how to say what he wanted to say without really saying anything. “I think that's for Ned to tell you. I don’t want to say something that’s his to tell, ya know? But... I'm sure you wouldn't be too far off if you guessed.”

“Oh,” James said quietly, more of an exhalation of air than an actual word. Peter's smile softened, picking out the hint of wonder in James' voice even over the phone. “I. That's... that sounds good. I like how that sounds.”

Peter laughed again, snuggling into his pillows with a happy noise. Never before had he thought about Ned dating someone. It wasn’t that he didn’t think someone wouldn’t want to date Ned, ‘cause Ned was awesome and totally adorable. If Peter wasn’t into middle-aged scientists and Ned wasn’t, like, his brother, he probably would have tried dating Ned! It was just... well, neither himself nor Ned were super popular, and he knew that the girls at school couldn’t see past Ned’s size or his nerdiness to ever give him a chance. 

From what he’d seen today, neither of those two things were an obstacle for James, who was, at the very least, really worried about Ned’s well-being. Sure, they might never start dating, but Peter wasn’t blind. James had been really interested in Ned, and that... well, Peter thought that was seriously awesome. 

Peter focused back to the moment at hand, and realized that James was still breathing pretty heavily into the phone. He could only wonder how the other man was doing, so he asked, “How are you feeling, James? I know it was kinda rude of me to ask you to leave like that, and I’m really sorry for the way I just rushed you out of there out of nowhere.”

The line was quiet for long enough that Peter pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure they were still connected. He frowned at his phone screen before bringing it back to his ear, straining his hearing and realizing that he couldn’t even hear James breathing. 

“James?”

“Ned is your best friend,” James told him bluntly. 

“Yes... he is. What does that have to do with anything?” Peter asked, moving to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt, wrapping and unwrapping the fabric around his finger; a nervous tick.

“Shouldn't you be... upset with me?” James asked him slowly, like he wasn’t sure of the words, and Peter's frown only got deeper.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I'm attracted to him,” James told him plainly, and despite the obvious confusion in his voice, a thrill shot up Peter's spine in honour of Ned's happiness. 

Hell yeah! 

“Dude, that's awesome!” Peter exclaimed, wiggling happily in bed and laughing out loud. “Oh thank god. I was sure you were, and I told Ned that you probably were, but he was so worried that you wouldn't be interested in him. I told him that he was awesome but... he didn’t really believe you’d wanna date him. This is seriously awesome James! Are you going to ask him out? Oh my god, you should totally ask him out!”

“This isn't a good thing, Peter,” James told him forcefully, and then quieter, in a whisper, “I am not a good thing.”

“Hey!” Peter shot up into a sitting position, crossing his legs as his free hand formed a tight fight. “That is not true,” Peter told him fiercely, indignation at James' self-demeaning words making his voice crack. “You are amazing, James. You've been nothing but an amazing friend to me, and I see how much you care about people, even if they don't deserve it. You’re trying so, so hard to be a good person and that’s awesome! “

“I am too old, then,” James said, completely disregarding Peter’s rant. 

“Okay, way to totally ignore me,” he mumbled, but then added, “Aren’t you, like, twenty-three?”

James was quiet for a long, tense moment before he said, “I'm not sure.”

“Oh...” Peter whispered, his heart aching something fierce at the utter confusion in James’ voice. He wished, desperately, that James was with him so he could comfort him, and he made a weak noise from the back of his throat at how useless he suddenly felt. James needed him, and he wasn’t there. “I'm really, really sorry, James.”

“It wouldn't work,” James told him quietly, but even to Peter he didn't sound so sure anymore. 

That was good. Maybe Peter could convince him that he was worth more. Peter knew he was, and it seemed like Ned already knew he was, too. All he needed to do was get James on board. Peter flopped back onto his bed as he searched for the right words to say to somehow make James feel better, desperately wishing that he could hug him.

“Look... I know what you've been through is unimaginable. It’s... nobody can dispute how much you’ve lived through. It’s amazing that you’re still trying to do good, so don’t think that it isn’t, okay? I know you might think you’re too... too whatever for Ned, but Ned's been on his own since he was a kid. He might not always seem like it, because he's into video games and building epic Lego creations, but he's really mature. He’s had to be, without his parents around. 

“I don't want you to just write him off because you think you're not good enough, okay? If Ned wants to date you and you want to date Ned... I think that’s all that matters. Besides, we both know who I have a crush on. I just... it isn’t illegal. It isn’t bad. Sure, you two have really, really different lives, but Ned’s awesome with the whole superhero thing, seriously.”

James was still silent, so Peter took a long breath and ended his rant with, “I don’t want to see you hold yourself back from something that could make you really happy just because you don’t think you’re good enough, okay?.”

“Why are you telling me this?” James asked, begged, immediately after Peter stopped talking, and his heart twisted around his chest painfully. 

“You're both my friends. Hell, you're both my best friends, and I don't want to see either of you get hurt. I care about you both so much, and all I want for both of you is happiness. I may have known Ned a few years longer than I’ve known you, but you both mean a lot to me, okay? Ned is awesome, and you're awesome, and you both seem to be interested in each other. I'm not saying that has to go somewhere, but the worst that could happen is that it doesn't, right? I—I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay? If you need something, anything at all, I'm here for you just like I would be for Ned.”

“Thank you,” James whispered, and his voice was rougher than it had been a moment ago. “I just... thank you.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgement as he let his eyes fall closed, but he didn't say anything else. He didn’t have anything else to say, not when it felt like he’d said his piece and, hopefully, gotten his point across. Rather he settled back into his bed, keeping his phone pressed against his ear to listen to the calming noise of James' breathing. If he needed time to process what Peter had told him, that was okay. 

Peter could be patient, when it really mattered. 

Chapter Text

As soon as Peter woke up, he knew today was going to be a day that he spent at the tower. 

There was a big pile of homework sitting at his desk that he could see from his bed, and not a single part of him wanted to work on it. At least if he went to the tower, he could tell himself that he was being productive even if he was procrastinating on his schoolwork!

That totally wasn’t the same thing as avoiding doing his homework, no matter what May said! 

Today was going to be a tower day, so Peter stretched his back until something popped in a way that felt really good before he pushed himself out of bed with a little groan at his aching limbs, even though they didn’t really ache at all. 

Peter thought he’d actually rather be in pain than experience the phantom pains that plagued him. Since getting The Bite, he hadn’t really suffered from, just, general soreness like he used to. But that didn’t mean his body forgot it. During times like this when he was busy and overwhelmed and stressed, his body felt sore even if he knew it wasn’t really in any pain. 

And because he wasn’t in any pain (and because he would metabolize any medication he tried taking) there wasn’t really anything that he could do about it. 

So he pushed through the pain that he couldn’t really feel, and forced himself to get going. He got dressed quickly, considering he was just going to see Tony. Sure, the older man was, like, crazy rich, but Tony normally strutted around the lab in old band t-shirts and pants that were questionable levels of clean, which meant Peter didn’t have to try to dress nice. 

Dressed in comfort clothes, Peter quickly tried to do something with his hair and gave up after a few minutes of making it worse. He shook his head around as he moved through the apartment, bussing a kiss to May’s cheek on his way to the door. 

May called after him about breakfast, and Peter called back that he was going to eat at Tony’s. Raiding the man’s ridiculously stocked fridge was one of Peter’s favourite pastimes, since he didn’t ever really feel guilty about how much he needed to eat when it was coming from the tower. After all, he knew that May couldn’t actually afford to feed Peter as much as he needed to eat, and Tony never said anything (which, since Peter was pretty sure he never actually looked in his fridge, was probably because he didn’t even notice). 

Oh, maybe Tony would even want to eat breakfast with him! 

As Peter snuck around the side of his building and then quickly pulled himself up the wall, he quietly worried over Tony’s eating habits. If the man had gone to bed, maybe Peter would be able to corral him into eating something. 

Clearing his mind, Peter quickly tugged on his Spider-Man mask before pushing off the side of his building. 

The city raced by him as he swung between buildings. Despite the still-early hour on a Saturday morning, the city was already buzzing with life. Peter lost his thoughts to the familiar hum of life below him. Swinging through the streets was a lot faster than taking the Metro, and Peter climbed into his bedroom at the Tower only a little while later, feeling wind-swept and exhilarated from the swing… ride. 

Peter stretched out his arms once he was tucked away in his room, the window that had automatically opened for him closing once he was settled. He dropped his backpack onto his bed after undoing the middle strap he made sure to keep done up when swinging. Dropping his mask, Peter rubbed a hand across his face that he then pulled through his hair as he left his room. 

Up here, Peter didn’t have to worry about his identity—especially not now that Bruce knew who he was. There was something freeing about being in a space where everyone knew that he was Peter and Spider-Man, and he felt a flash of guilt, heavy and hot in his belly, at the thought. 

Pushing that away, Peter made his way to the main room on Tony’s floor, which was a large, open space with a big kitchen that bled into a large living room. Tony was slumped over the granite counter already, sat on one of the high bar stools with his head resting in his hand and a blanket thrown over his back. He could just make out that Tony’s eyes were closed from where he was standing, so he made sure to make his steps loud as he got closer so he wouldn’t startle the older man.

Slowly, Tony's eyes blinked open. By the time Peter was in the kitchen, his lips were stretched into a small smile that Peter returned easily. Tony beckoned him over so Peter went, shuffling over the room and not stopping until he was pressed against Tony's side comfortably. With the arm that wasn’t supporting his head, the older man tugged him close with an arm he wrapped around his shoulder. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony murmured quietly. He must have only just woken up; the way his hair was still a mess normally meant he had just rolled out of bed, and Peter figured the blanket around his shoulders was from his bed.

“Good morning,” Peter said quietly, soaking up the easy affection of Tony’s hold with a widening grin.

Tony was always tactile when he was sleepy. Peter loved it, especially times like now when it was just the two of them. He and Ned had always been pretty touchy with each other, and May had never shied away from a hug after Peter's parents passed away. Peter himself loved physical affection, and he really liked that Tony was the same. 

Even though Tony sometimes got embarrassed after bouts of cuddling together, he never held himself back when he was tired.

“What're you doing here?” Tony asked, squeezing his arm around Peter's neck and ruffling his already messy hair before sitting straight up.

Peter moved enough that he could lean on the counter and, while smoothing his hair back down, said, “I figured we could work a bit more on the webbing. I wanna get the corrosive formula down.” 

Tony raised a disbelieving brow (rude) and gave him a flat look. Flushing, Peter ducked his head as he admitted, “Fine. I just have a lot of homework that I don’t wanna do.” He took another deep breath, and then, “I thought maybe we could spend the day together?”

Tony chuckled, and his face softened into something warm and welcoming. Peter felt his own smile widen as Tony looked at him. 

“Have you eaten anything?” he asked worriedly, sounding way more parental than Peter knew how to handle this early in the morning. 

Trying not to focus on that, Peter shook his head, smiling wildly and letting out a little laugh when Tony clapped his hands together as he seemingly woke the rest of the way up.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, rhetorically, and pushed himself into motion. 

Cooking with Tony wasn’t something that they got to do together all that often, but it was something that he always really, really enjoyed. Not only was Tony an amazing cook, but Peter just loved watching him work. He was different in the kitchen than he was in the lab; while Tony was… not disorganized, per se, when working in the lab, he was really neat when he cooked. He always made sure the kitchen was clean, then he got everything out, then got to work. 

Peter didn’t really do so much in terms of cooking, and instead, he just enjoyed doing the simple tasks that Tony gave him as Tony moved around fluidly. Chopping up vegetables to add to their omelette was calming, Peter found, and it was just nice, getting to spend time with Tony like this. 

It didn’t take them long to fry up the omelettes and even less time to eat, considering the way the two of them scarfed down food like they’d never eaten before. Peter’s omelette was… more of a scramble that consisted of an entire carton of eggs, several sweet peppers and some diced onion sprinkled with cheese that he ate very quickly, considering he hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. Tony probably hadn’t eaten since the night before, either, and even then he’d probably only picked at something snack-sized instead of eating a full meal. 

Since he ate as quickly as Peter, he didn’t feel insecure as he shovelled food into his mouth. It was a nice change. Being in the Tower was a nice change, and it always reminded Peter of how much he had to hide away day-to-day. 

Pushing that thought away, Peter finished up his breakfast and then got the dishes soaking to deal with later as he and Tony talked about their latest web fluid formula, what exactly they wanted from it, and how they were going to get there. 

Talking science with Tony was like nothing else. He loved it, loved speaking to someone who understood him. It was tough to find someone that could actually keep up with him—Ned definitely surpassed him when it came to technology, sure, but science was Peter’s strong suit. 

Tony was the only person Peter knew that made him struggle to keep up, and it was a nice change. He was constantly in awe of just how brilliant Tony was, and he felt thankful, every day, for the relationship he had with the older genius.

As Tony ruffled his hair as they entered the lab, he took a moment to feel just how thankful he really was. 

Then he settled into his work, trying to figure out the formula as Tony tinkered around on something else. Probably some super cool new suits, since those were always Tony’s favourite go-to projects. The web fluid was Peter’s project, and while Tony was always happy to lend an ear to talk things over, he let Peter do the work. That meant the string of numbers tripping him up was all on him, and he lost himself in science and a full belly. 

A sudden knock pulled Peter’s attention away from the string of numbers he was scribbling out, constantly glad that the work tables doubled as whiteboards. He looked up, blinking his vision clear and rocking back in surprise when he saw the time. Huh, it’d been a few hours. 

Peter looked over to see who it was, and… really quickly dropped his eyes to his lap when he saw that it was Bruce.

Oh my god. It was Bruce. Bruce Bruce! Bruce Bruce as in Bruce Banner! Oh no, Peter thought, panicked, you should have done your hair! He should have done his hair, because Bruce was wearing a fitted sweater that looked really good. It hugged his shoulders and, as Peter took quick peeks at it from under his eyelashes, looked really, really soft. 

Peter wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch him. God, he really wanted to touch him, but Peter forcefully pushed that thought away as Bruce entered the lab when the glass doors slid open. 

“Heya, Bruce,” Tony sang out. He didn’t even bother to look up from the piece of metal he was all but attacking with a screwdriver, which… yeah, that was Tony.

Seeing Bruce in the lab was weird. Tony had said that Bruce was on his floor all the time, but this was the first time (other than when they’d literally run into each other) that Peter had ever come across him like this. 

It wasn’t that Peter minded seeing him—since he really didn’t—but it was a bit strange, since Peter was used to only ever seeing Tony around.

“Hello, Tony, Peter,” Bruce greeted kindly. A smile curled around his lips, and it made Peter’s heart kick up until it was racing against his rib cage. 

Peter tried for a smile that felt strained by the way it felt like he was losing his mind, and then he stuttered out, “H-hi, Doctor Banner,” before he dropped his head as soon as Bruce looked over at him.

“Peter, please call me Bruce. Remember?” Bruce’s smile grew, lifting with an edge to it that Peter didn’t know what to do with but really liked. 

“Oh. Oh right, you did—you did tell me that! Right. Yeah, for sure. I can do that! Hi B-Bruce,” Peter stuttered again, his cheeks going so warm that it was almost uncomfortable with how badly he was embarrassing himself. 

He wanted to say something else, but he snapped his teeth shut before he could even try to embarrass himself any further.

“What’re you doing up here, string bean?” Tony asked loudly. When Peter shot his eyes at him, he was sending Bruce a look that Peter couldn’t decipher. 

“I’m here for Peter, actually. Friday informed me that he was here,” Bruce told him, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. 

God, he was fucking adorable.

Peter took one deep breath and told himself not to say anything embarrassing. He could do this! 

“Oh? Really?” Peter asked, maybe a bit too quickly, before his head turned to Tony to see the older man turned to him with both of his eyebrows raised. He mouthed “ get it”, and even though Peter wanted to punch him for making his blush worse, he appreciated the support. 

God, Tony was the worst and the best. 

When Peter looked back at him, Bruce nodded his head evenly. “I was wondering if you like to get your blood taken now, seeing as you’re here?”

Right. Right! Bruce wanted to take his blood! To study. He wanted to take his blood and he wanted to study it! 

That was the only reason he was here. That was the only reason he was interested in Peter. It wasn’t anything else. Nothing more than scientific curiosity! Calm down, you dumbass Peter berated himself, trying to remind himself that there was no way Bruce would be interested in him no matter how badly he wanted the older man to be.

“That works,” Peter said, finally not tripping over his own words. 

The firm reminder that Bruce wasn’t really here for him but for his blood to study helped calm him down. He saved his work and slid off his chair, stretching his back in a long arch as he worked out the tightness that sitting for nearly two hours had caused. He maybe let out a little moan when something shifted and felt really good, but it was just because he hadn’t moved around in so long. 

When he looked back up, Bruce had his eyes on the ground and his cheeks were pinker than they had been before. Huh. Peter shot his eyes over to Tony to see if he was teasing him or something, but found Tony whistling away as he typed something out. 

Yeah, that was the picture of innocence. 

“You ready right now?” Peter asked, studiously ignoring Tony’s “innocent” expression and instead tried not to flush too warmly at the way Bruce’s sweater fit him. 

“Y-Yes.” Bruce cleared his throat, raising a fist to cover his mouth as he coughed gently. “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

Bruce looked up from under his lashes, and Peter almost had a heart attack. Jesus , Peter thought, he’s going to kill me.

Since Bruce had said he was ready, Peter pushed himself forward and made his way out of the lab when Bruce gestured for him to go ahead. He ignored Tony’s call of “Be safe, kids!” to which Peter did his best to drown out with a dramatic groan. He sent a sharp look over his shoulder even as the lab doors slid shut, hoping that F.R.I.D.A.Y would relay his unhappiness. 

“I am so sorry about him,” Peter gushed, looking up at Bruce with wide eyes before he ducked his head and looked up at him from under his lashes when staring at him straight on was too much. 

Bruce chuckled, which was a good sign.

“Don’t worry, Peter,” Bruce told him with a smile, “I’m used to Tony’s shenanigans.” 

Peter nodded, though he didn’t say anything else as they walked side by side… somewhere. He wasn’t actually sure where Bruce was taking him, but he wasn’t too worried. 

He didn’t have room to feel worried, actually, with how silly he felt for even thinking that Bruce might have wanted him for something other than experimenting. Silly, Peter! 

But that wouldn’t do him any good. Doing his best to push that aside, Peter tried to just focus on how nice it was just to be in Bruce’s presence. Sure, he may have felt all happy and calm because it was Bruce, and Peter had a skyscraper-sized crush on him, but it was only the second time they’d been alone and Peter felt like it was going pretty well. 

The usual tension Peter had seen Bruce carry on his shoulders when around the rest of the Avengers was nowhere to be found. Not that Peter focused so intently on Bruce during press events that he was able to tell how tense he normally was, but… well, it was probably a really good start that he wasn’t, right?

He followed Bruce to the elevators, but turned a questioning look towards the older man when they slid open. 

“I have a lab on my personal floor. If—uh, if you’re okay with going down there? I could always just bring everything up, actually, if you would rather?”

“No! Going down to your floor is fine with me,” Peter told him, smiling widely when Bruce relaxed. 

The man had seemed nervous, but Peter wasn’t sure why and he was not going to hope.

Hope… never led to anything good.  

The elevator ride passed in heavy silence. Peter wasn’t sure what to say, and since he didn’t really have anything to talk about he kept his teeth pressed together. He was too flustered to say anything anyway, since the older man was all… handsome and stuff. He was handsome and it was distracting and Peter had about a thousand things he wanted to ask him, but he was still embarrassed from the first time they’d met and the way he’d stumbled over himself like some love-struck fool.

Which… wasn’t to say he wasn’t a love-struck fool. He just didn’t want to seem like one. 

So Peter quietly followed Bruce out of the elevator when it stopped, his eyes skipping from closed door to closed door as they went down a little hallway. The layout looked pretty similar to that of Tony’s floor, though they turned right into a lab instead of left like they would’ve upstairs. The lab was smaller than Tony’s personal lab, though there was equipment littered about that Peter hadn’t ever even seen before.

Cool!

“This is really nice,” Peter gushed quietly, excited by the prospect of new science but hesitant to break the comfortable silence they had fallen into. 

“Thank you.” The smile that Bruce directed at him made his insides freaking melt , and he felt ridiculous for being so hopelessly enamoured. 

It felt like his knees were jelly just because Bruce had smiled at him. God, he was hopeless. 

“I've never given blood before,” Peter told him suddenly. 

He wasn’t worried, not really , but he also didn’t know what to expect. Plus, that was probably something Bruce should know before they started, right? 

“It’s really not too bad,” Bruce told him calmly, moving about the lab and seemingly getting things set up. Peter stood in the middle of the room, not sure what to do with himself but keeping his hands to himself. “It shouldn’t hurt much. Have you drank any water today?”

Peter considered lying. Peter really considered lying, because adults drank water! It was early afternoon and Peter hadn’t even thought to have a sip! But… “No?” he hazarded, not really wanting to risk anything since he was about to get poked with a needle. 

“Then here,” Bruce tossed him a bottle from a mini-fridge Peter hadn’t even noticed, and he caught it easily, his arm moving before he’d even realized the bottle was sailing towards him. “It’ll make it a bit easier.”

Peter hummed even as he opened the bottle and drained it quickly. He decided to look around a bit more while Bruce was setting up. Unlike Tony’s lab that had bits of himself strewn messily all over, Bruce’s lab was… sterile. Impersonal. Everything was tidy, stored away where it was supposed to go, but there wasn’t anything that signalled that this lab belonged to Bruce. 

Peter wasn’t sure why, but it made him sad. 

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Bruce murmured. 

When Peter looked up, Bruce was sitting on a stool in front of a work table. He blew out a breath from his nose, fiddling with something in front of him before he looked over to where Peter was still standing. He nodded, though he didn’t say anything as he continued to stand awkwardly. 

“Can you sit there?” Bruce asked, gesturing with his head to a chair beside him. 

“Sure!” Peter squeaked, rushing over and climbing onto the chair before he started fiddling with his hands where he had them resting in his lap. 

Yep. He felt really awkward. 

“I just have to tie this up here,” Bruce told him before he started moving. He held up a rubber band between them, snapping it a little to show off its elasticity.

He reached out slowly. His hands were gentle and so, so warm as they fit the rubber band around Peter’s bicep and tied it off with a gentle grip. Huh. 

Peter shivered when Bruce’s fingers slipped down his forearm, skimming gently over his skin. His fingertips were rough, and his callouses dragged down Peter’s arm and brought goosebumps up. He couldn’t stop the way a shiver raced down his spine, and he took a shuddering breath when Bruce looked up at him with something that Peter couldn’t name shining in his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bruce told him softly. His voice was deeper than normal, he was sure, and he felt his cheeks heat up with a blush that he felt absolutely ridiculous for sporting. 

But Bruce was staring up at him with kind, warm eyes, and Peter’s breath was lost somewhere in the bands of gold that lined his iris. He couldn’t look away, pulled in by the warm hand Bruce still had wrapped around his wrist and the way their eyes were locked together, like both of them were unwilling to look away first. Like Bruce was unwilling to look away first. 

Bruce’s voice was almost a whisper when he said, “It’s just going to be a little pinch, nothing much. Really, it shouldn’t even hurt.”

Bruce’s other hand returned from where he’d been reaching for something without ever looking away from Peter, and he almost didn’t even notice. From the corner of his eye, though, Peter could make out that it was a needle and he gasped softly. He made a noise, something incredibly high-pitched and embarrassing, and flushed even darker than he’d been before.

“Oh. Oh, right. Yes, that’s—that’s a needle. That is a needle that is going to go into my body,” Peter mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes tightly when the reality of what was about to happen set in. 

Somehow, he hadn’t yet equated that getting his blood taken would involve a needle piercing his skin. Which, huge oversight on his part since he was now freaking out. And not breathing. Oh god. Oh god, he hated needles!  

“Hey, Pete, hey, calm down.” Bruce’s voice was a smooth timbre that Peter found easy to lose himself in, pulling away from his panicking and focusing on the way it wrapped around him, warm and welcome.

He set his attention on the man in front of him, following the exaggerated breaths he was taking as his heart rate slowly began to calm down now that he was actually letting himself breathe.

It only took a moment for Peter to get his breathing under control, but it seemed to stretch on forever. Bruce had taken a much firmer hold of Peter's wrist and raised Peter’s hand against his chest. He flexed his fingers, feeling the heat of Bruce through his sweater, and he pressed the flat of his hand more firmly against Bruce’s body to feel more of it, more of him. Bruce’s fingers were still wrapped around his wrist and he was so close, even closer than he’d been the afternoon Peter was telling him about his powers.

As soon as he noticed how close they were, his breath caught in his throat and he flicked his eyes up to find Bruce watching him, his pupils blown wide and dark. Heat stirred throughout Peter’s belly as he realized that the man was breathing quickly, moving to hold Peter’s hand where it was still pressed against him. He leaned forward, caught up in Bruce’s eyes and the little specks of gold he could now barely see around the man’s dark pupils. 

Bruce’s breath ghosted over his nose and made Peter shiver. 

He was so close. He was so close and Peter felt like he was going to shake out of his skin.

They were only a breath away when Peter’s eyes fell closed, his heart rate jumping back up and jack rabbiting against his rib cage. The moment stretched on for infinity, both their hearts racing and trampling over each other in Peter’s ears, until Bruce let out a harsh breath that Peter felt across his cheek and pulled back. The space between them felt cold and Peter’s hand fell into his lap. He kept his eyes closed for another moment before blinking them open, afraid of what he would see. 

Bruce wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t even there, since he’d wheeled back to the table and was fiddling with something on the desk, his head down and his heart still racing in Peter’s ears, faster than his own.

“Sorry, I—I just really don’t like needles,” Peter admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand that was still warm from Bruce’s body. 

“Peter, is everything alright?” Karen’s voice was tinny through the speakers of his Stark watch, and Peter smiled down at his wrist at the obvious care in her voice. “I detected a sudden rise in your heartbeat.”

Wow, tattletale much. 

Still, Peter couldn’t help but let out a soft breath. “Yeah, Kare, I’m good,” Peter told her, chuckling softly when she replied with a prim, “Very good.” 

That seemed to break the tension in the room. Thank god. 

Bruce rolled back over with the same needle he’d been holding earlier. Peter realized that he still had a rubber band wrapped around his arm when Bruce grabbed his wrist once again. This time, Peter didn’t freak out when he saw the needle, but he did look away, focusing on a spot on the far wall to keep himself occupied. 

Bruce’s hands slid up his forearm, just as warm as his chest had been, and Peter shivered again. 

“Are you ready?” Bruce asked him seriously, and Peter nodded his head before he could chicken out.

Bruce counted down, and on one Peter felt a small pinch in his arm. It wasn’t bad, but he still took a deep breath and held it for a count of ten before letting it out slowly. He was fine. He was fine and this was fine and he was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine! Repeating the words made him feel better, like he was more in control even though his heart had started to race again as Bruce just kept on keeping on, taking his blood out of his body which was not where it was supposed to go. 

“So you and Tony seem pretty close,” Bruce commented idly. Peter wasn’t sure what he was doing, having closed his eyes to focus on his breathing, but it hadn’t sounded like anything changed.

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly. He realized that Bruce was trying to distract him, and he felt something warm unfurl in his chest. “He’s really… he’s really great. He means a lot to me.”

Bruce was quiet for a long moment that stretched on until Peter’s breathing was getting sharper, before he asked, “You like him, then?” 

There was something in his voice that Peter hadn’t heard before, something sharp and unsteady, and he slowly blinked his eyes open from where he’d been holding them shut and forced them away from the wall to find Bruce staring at Peter’s arm, his shoulders tense and his jaw locked. A thrill travelled up Peter’s spine when he thought that maybe… maybe it was his answer that put the tension there.

He played Bruce’s question through his head and wondered if it could mean what he… what he was trying not to hope it meant. 

“Like a father,” Peter murmured, and watched, his heart tripping over itself, as the tension bled away. “Not that he isn’t handsome. I—er, I have a… uh preference for older men.”

There was the tiniest hint of movement across Bruce’s mouth, lips tilting into the barest of smiles before smoothing back out, but Peter could feel the heat radiating from his body and knew that Bruce’s heart had jumped with his words. He seemed completely unaffected, but Peter had super-senses on his side. 

“Is that so?” Bruce asked, seemingly nonchalant.

Peter smiled, his eyes falling closed as he hummed a confirmation. He almost snorted, he was so pleased, and he committed Bruce’s little smile to memory. The awkward tension from earlier had bled away, and while there was still tension, it was… good. Easy. Comfortable in a way that made Peter’s heart flutter and had his stomach feeling like it was filled with butterflies.

Then, just as Peter was opening his mouth to say something else, the pressure from his arm disappeared.

“And we’re done,” Bruce murmured gently, his fingers sliding down Peter’s arm as he removed the needle, fluttering the tips of his fingers over Peter’s open palm. Peter’s hand twitched, just enough that their fingertips met long enough that it had to mean something , before Peter finally let his eyes flutter back open from where he’d closed them while the needle was being removed.

Bruce was looking at him with a look Peter couldn't decipher the meaning of, but it felt heavy. He didn’t know what it meant exactly, but he knew it was important. It was heady, having so much of the man’s attention on him, as if he was something worth watching and paying attention to. 

Peter… no one had ever thought he was worth paying attention to before. 

He stared back, unwilling to break the moment as he whispered, “Thank you, Bruce.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce said, his hand landing for a moment on Peter’s knee. 

Everything was dialled up to eleven and it felt like the touch punched through him, leaving him breathless. He let out a noise, something weak and needy, as his legs fell open automatically. Bruce moved forward, taking up space where Peter had made him some, and Peter’s breath hitched as his heart jumped up into his throat.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bruce asked, his fingers dancing higher, travelling up Peter’s thigh in a feather-light touch. Peter shook his head, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth just to have something to focus on other than the overwhelming feeling of Bruce’s hands on him and the way blood was rushing into his pants and filling up his dick.

Oh god . Oh god, could Bruce tell? Did Peter want Bruce to be able to tell? Did he not? Peter felt like he was losing his mind and he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know anything, didn’t know—

“Good,” Bruce told him quietly, so quietly Peter swayed forward to catch the sound. 

But then Bruce was pulling back, his lips twisting up into a smile that looked so sweet and so teasing. Peter let out a sharp bark of nervous laughter that sounded suspiciously like a giggle, and he firmly ignored the way his cock twitched when Bruce wet his lips with a quick flash of pink tongue. He was opening his mouth to say something, anything, when his phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating so many times in quick succession that they were both able to hear it. 

It broke the moment between them, and Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket with a heavy sense of regret filling his belly. It was a text from May asking when he’d be home, and Peter was once again surprised to see that another hour had passed. 

“I...I should get going,” Peter mumbled, sounding just as disappointed as he felt.

Bruce must have been able to tell, because his eyes softened and a kind smile curled around his lips. This one wasn’t a teasing smile, but it was just as nice. 

“I’m sorry to have kept you for so long,” Bruce said, before the corners of his eyes crinkled handsomely.

Holy moly, Peter had it so bad. 

“I’m not,” Peter said quickly, rushing out his words before his throat swallowed them back up. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Bruce. It was… it was really, really nice.”

“I enjoyed it too,” Bruce told him, his face stretching into the widest smile Peter had ever seen him wear. His heart somersaulted, and he had to ignore the ridiculous urge to fist bump the air, knowing he was the reason Bruce was smiling like that. “Now go. I don’t want to keep you any longer.”

It was the smile that gave him the courage, or maybe the phantom warmth that Bruce’s fingers left on his skin, but he darted forward to law a soft, barely-there kiss to Bruce’s cheek, close enough to the corner of his lips that he didn’t think his intentions could possibly be mistaken. For good measure, he lingered for a second too long, before he drew away with a deep inhale of Bruce’s cologne. 

As he pulled back, a grin split his face at the wide-eyed look on Bruce’s face. Peter breathed a quiet, “Thank you,” into the space between them, before he was pushing himself to standing and all but skipping out of the lab without looking back. 

He may have also whistled. Just a little. 

The minute Peter was in his room, he was stripping off his pants and throwing them against his closed door. They stuck to the webbing he’d shot over the handle, making sure that he would be alone. 

His heart was racing. His heart was racing so bad. Peter could barely breathe, could barely think, his thoughts racing around and around and around as he tripped over his own foot and fell onto his bed with a hysterical laugh that he tried to keep quiet. May hadn’t asked him what was wrong, too caught up in something on the TV, and thank god for that because Peter thought he was going to lose his mind. 

He was so hard. He was so hard that he was aching, and he had been, ever since Bruce drew his blood. Fuck, but he was even harder than he’d been when he’d left. The entire trip home had been torture, his cock rubbing against his underwear as he swung through the city. Every. Single. Move. lit him up with pleasure until it felt like he was going to come in his pants, hundreds of feet in the air. 

Peter whined, overstimulated and close to tears, when he finally peeled his boxers over his aching hardness. Fuck, they were soaking wet with all the precome that had spilled out of him, and Peter, with a shaking hand, brought them up to his nose and breathed in the musk of his own release with a weak moan. 

Flopping onto his bed, Peter didn’t even bother grabbing for his phone. He wouldn’t need porn and he knew that he wouldn't last. After the way Bruce had touched him... nope, he wouldn’t last. He wouldn’t last at all, with the memory of Bruce’s warm, calloused fingers on his arm, and the feeling of his cheek, warm and smooth, against his lips, still so fresh in his mind. 

Peter had always had a good memory, but it felt like it was teasing him now. He could remember everything, and as he wrapped himself in hand, he moaned louder than he should but couldn’t help it. 

Even the simple touch almost too much with how keyed up he was, everything dialled up to eleven. 

Peter arched his back harshly as his hips twitched up to fuck his fist, remembering just how rough Bruce’s fingertips had been on his skin. Before he could stop himself his brain was running with that, and he imagined what they would feel like on his body, how they would drag over his belly, up his sides, across his thighs without pants on. Goosebumps broke out along his arms at the thought, and he groaned lowly when he thumbed over the sensitive head of his dick. 

Fuck. Fuck, that felt so good. 

With another deep breath, Peter curled his toes as he pressed his thumb against his slit, and then before he even knew what was happening he was already coming. His pleasure spoked, white-hot and mind-numbing. He saw nothing but the black expanse of his closed eyelids as he spilled all over himself as he came over his hands and onto his belly. 

He groaned lowly, doing his best to keep quiet as he kept going as he worked himself over quickly. Peter stroked himself widely, milking his orgasms and shockwaves of bright hot pleasure shot down his legs and had his thighs jumping. He kept his hand wrapped around his cock and didn’t let himself stop before he was thumbing over the head again, pressing against the sensitive slit and digging his thumb into the skin in a way that had him coming again, already ready to go a second round as he thought of Bruce. 

He shot a second load weakly against his belly, a few spurts of pearly come slipping down his fingers. Peter stared, wide-eyed, at the mess on his defined belly. He breathed heavily, wondering what Bruce would think of him covered in come like this.

Holy fucking shit, Peter thought, taking a deep breath as he slowly floated down from fucking Nirvana. He eyed the pool of semen that was cooling in the hollow of his belly and wondered how he could have possibly come that hard and that much in such a short amount of time. He did his best to get his bearings, but his brain felt come-drunk, wrung out on one of the hardest orgasms he’d ever had. 

Blinking his eyes to try to clear his cloudy vision, Peter slumped back into his bed and resigned himself to doing a load of embarrassing laundry once he thought he could stand. Thoughts of Bruce were still fluttering through his mind, but thoughts of his hands on Peter’s body fell away so that he could focus on the shape of his smile and the depth of his crow’s feet. 

Even in a ridiculously good afterglow of an even more ridiculously good orgasm, all he could think about was Bruce. 

God, he was so, so fucked. 

Chapter Text

Peter sucked in a deep breath that filled his lungs before jumping off the roof. With his heart racing against his ribs, he let himself free-fall through the air before shooting out a web. Flexing his wrist, the line latched onto a building and Peter swung upwards in a low arc that sent him sailing through the sky with a breathless sort of laugh. 

God, there was nothing like flying through the city. 

Hitting the ground running, Peter cursed the outskirts of the city for their lower buildings. It wasn't nearly as easy to web-sling out here as it was in Brooklyn. Still, Peter made the best time that he could, and he threw out another web to propel himself up in a low arch that launched him high through the air.

It hadn't been very long since Peter had first gotten the text alert. Maybe half an hour at most, but he wasn’t paying attention to the time as he made his as quickly as possible to the fight Karen was leading him to.

The alert text was an alarm that blared from his phone at an ungodly volume, and thankfully Peter had already been up and had his phone in hand. He’d silenced it as quickly as he could, although not fast enough to spare his ears the splitting loudness. Doubling over in pain, Peter had sworn, quite impressively, before jumping into action and making quick work of getting his suit on.

And now he was following the path Karen had routed out for him, moving as quickly as he could and just hoping he wasn’t too late.

He still didn't know what was happening (something he hated when running into the field), but whatever it was, it was important enough for Tony to trigger his alarm. Not only that, but James had sent him a text as well, asking him if Spider-Man was going to show up. 

Yeah, it was definitely something serious. 

Adrenaline was already making his heart race at the possibilities, spurred on by his swelling thoughts. It wasn't often that Tony called him in, and for James to text him as well… yeah, it had to be bad.

“How are we doing, Kare?” Peter asked. He landed on a rooftop and pushed himself double time, running so hard a crack spider-webbed along the concrete before he threw himself back into the air.

“You are only a few minutes out, Peter,” she told him, and she didn't sound calm, either.

Shit.

Peter kept swinging. 

Up ahead, a large clearing came into sight. Peter couldn’t see enough, but the buildings he was swinging from were getting farther and farther apart the further from the city he got. He was going to run out of area to web and then he'd have to travel by foot. 

Not for the first time, Peter really wished that he could fly.

Or just run, like, super super fast instead of just super fast. 

In the distance, a green mass that Peter hadn't quite been able to see before came into focus, and Peter almost dropped his freaking web. 

It was Hulk. His sheer size made him easy to spot even from a distance, and Peter adjusted his course to swing more that way with Karen listing out wind patterns in his ear. He swung over another building and landed in a roll before he pushed himself forward and took off hard.

Launching himself off the building with enough momentum to carry him forward, Peter narrowed his eyes and his mask zoomed in towards Hulk’s face. Hulk turned towards him, and… Peter got to watch his entire face light up as he stared directly at Peter. 

Shit. Shit shit shit, Peter did not need to be having feelings as he was falling through the goddamn air towards a freaking battle! Pushing away whatever it was that Hulk’s smile was doing to his heart, Peter widened his eyes to realign his vision, threw out two webs, landed on the pavement, and then slingshotted himself forward with a hefty dose of super strength. 

Then, with his heart racing for totally non-adrenaline-related reasons, Peter let go of his webs and threw himself feet first into a wide arch that would bring him right up to the Avenger.

Peter prepared to free fall towards the ground, already tensing up for the landing, when Hulk lumbered forward and raised his hand directly into Peter's path.

"Oof," Peter wheezed, his breath getting knocked out of him as he collided with a wall of green flesh. “Oh, fuck, you are not any softer than you look.”

Peter curled forward pitifully, resting his forehead against the Hulk's hand and trusting him to hold Peter up. He relaxed while he tried to catch his breath. Hulk's hand was warm and comfortable where Peter was resting against him, and even the feeling of being moved through the air didn't make Peter feel anything other than safe when Hulk’s large fingers curled around his back.

Oh yeah, he had it bad.

"Spider not smashed!" Hulk freaking boomed, holding Peter up so they were closer to eye level.

"Hey, buddy," Peter said happily, folding his hands under his head as he got himself comfortable in Hulk’s grip. His legs were hanging below Hulk's pinky, but he didn't mind hanging out with how gently Hulk was holding him. "I'm totally okay! Thanks for catching me, that was super nice"

Peter watched as Hulk's happy smile melted. His lips moved but nothing came out, and the crease between his eyebrows got deeper and deeper. He made a low growling noise that vibrated through Peter's entire body and made his heart clench. 

"Not… Spider smashed before. Hulk go—"

Peter wiggled, hooking a foot between Hulk's pinky and ring finger so he could push himself higher and reach out. Hulk helped him, thankfully, and he moved Peter closer until his hand touched Hulk’s big face. 

Gently, Peter patted the bit of chin he could actually reach, and he rubbed circles into Hulk's rough skin. "It's okay, big green. I know you didn't want to go away, and I'm sorry that you had to."

"No go?" Hulk asked him, his head tilting to the side in a show of confusion that was absolutely adorable and totally sped up Peter’s already racing heart. 

"No, buddy. They shouldn't have made you leave like that. You did exactly what I wanted you to!" Peter told him seriously, pulling his hand from Hulk's face but running it back and forth over the side of his hand instead. 

Hulk was staring at him, and his eyes were swirling with colour. Peter could make out each band from this close, and he found himself drawn in by the gold lines he could see in Hulk's pretty, green irises.

Hulk seemed to consider what he said for a few minutes, and then he huffed out a breath of air that Peter felt blow over his face. 

"I made happy, little Spider?" Hulk asked him, and his voice was a soft, quiet sound that did something to Peter’s heart. 

"Y-Yeah, Hulk," Peter stuttered, blushing under his mask and thanking everything he could possibly think of that no one could see him. "You made me a happy spider."

Hulk grinned so widely that it showed off his teeth, and Peter's stomach fluttered happily at knowing he put it there. Hulk's happiness was contagious, and Peter found himself letting out a stupid little giggle as Hulk just kept smiling. He also kept holding him, and while Peter could hear noise from below the bigger man, his attention was focused solely on the face in front of him. 

Peter could feel the warmth burning in his cheeks, and he knew that this was going to be a problem.

Even more so than the dream he'd had the night before, which had featured a certain scientist and his warm, calloused hands.

"Spider-Man! Stop flirting and get down here!" 

Tony's voice blared out of his suit's speakers, and Peter only flushed darker as he jerked backwards before he started sputtering as he hid his face into his hands. He took a few deep breaths in a fruitless effort to calm down, and did his best to get himself under control before he went to meet the rest of the team.

One more deep breath, and Peter lifted his head from where he’d buried it in his hands. 

"Can you let me down, big guy?" Peter asked softly, his heart all but melting when Hulk frowned .

But he did, thankfully, and Peter ignored the way his heart was beating and his palms were sweating in favour of jogging up to the makeshift table all of the Avengers were apparently crowded around. He studiously ignored the knowing look that Tony gave him, listened to the way Hulk lumbered after him, and pushed aside the nervous fluttering in his stomach.

He did not have time to think about everything he wasn't letting himself think about. 

Not. At. All. 

Peter desperately shot out a spurt of bullet webs before he backflipped away from another wave of robot… zombie… things. The robots weren't just regular robots. No, that would be too freaking easy for them, wouldn’t it? No, instead of regular robots, these robots were made up of scraps of bloodied flesh stuck to each other, all wrapped around shiny metal and wires that were sticking up all over the place. 

Why? Who knew!

Peter couldn't see it from here, but he knew from Tony's report that the creatures—beings?—were all crawling up from a large chasm that had been mined by Doom. A large chasm that was ridiculously well protected.

As it turned out, Dr. Doom's latest attack on the city had been a diversion meant to distract the Avengers from where he had been setting up camp for something both bigger and badder. That something bigger and badder was apparently a huge machine that was used to mine the earth, mixed in with some sort of twisted magic to create these… things.

The things which were incredibly hard to defeat! And not only were they seriously hard to beat, but they were literally never-ending, and they were spilling from the ground faster than the Avengers were able to work through them.

Peter was scared.

He was doing his best, but it didn’t seem like enough. Still, he continued to fight, using everything that he had at his disposal as he tried to make a dent in the hordes of robots and just kept fighting and fighting. 

As things went on, he grew more and more worried. Hand-to-hand combat really was not his specialty (something he knew he really needed to work on but found he could never really make the time), and there were no rooftops to run to for cover. The sprawling expanse of grass was pretty, sure, but it wasn't practical for the way Peter liked to fight. 

Thankfully, he had Karen in his ear murmuring encouragement that helped, but he wasn't sure it was enough.

He punched a robot straight through its slimy chest and then took out another with a high kick. A murmur of words changed his web-shooters to a different setting, and the next web he shot out exploded in a bomb of webbing as Peter launched himself backwards. 

He landed on his feet and used his momentum to carry himself up, and the moment his heels touched the ground he could feel a weight at his back that he knew. Taking a deep breath, Peter relaxed into James' chest for the quickest of moments before they were both back in the action.

"Doin’ good, Pete?" James asked, his voice doubling through the speaker in Peter's mask. He knew that F.R.I.D.A.Y controlled their comms, and he wasn’t worried. 

Peter threw him a thumbs up but was too breathless to answer with words. James raised an eyebrow, the lower half of his face covered by the face mask he still wore on the field. 

Then, James crouched down and held out his metal hand, and Peter stepped onto the flat of his palm with a strained laugh. 

He counted to three, took a deep breath, and nodded at James, who threw him up into the air with every bit of super strength he seemingly possessed. 

Keeping his body taut, Peter launched a few more web-bombs as he soared through the air, making sure to target the most congested areas of creatures. He knew it wouldn't stop them, but it would slow them down while one of the other Avengers picked them off.

Just as he landed in his signature crouch, Tony’s voice crackled over the comms. 

"Incoming: Magic Wizard Man," Tony announced to everyone, and Peter's heart finally began to settle. 

These things were some twisted sort of magic, and if anyone was going to be able to find a way to stop them, it was going to be him. Plus, he liked Doctor Strange, and knowing that he was on his way gave him a burst of energy to keep going.

Peter fought with renewed vigor, making a note to Karen that he really needed to ask James for a few fighting lessons because he seriously needed to improve his skill. While he didn't still didn’t feel comfortable training with any of the other Avengers, having James teach him how to fight would be completely different. Sure, it hadn’t happened yet and thus could be terrible, but James was totally awesome! 

He’d make an awesome fighting coach, and then maybe Peter could actually keep up when it came to hand-to-hand.

Still, he did his best. He moved through the crowd, taking bots as he went but making sure that he constantly kept moving. If he stopped in one spot for too long they would surround him, and Peter wasn't capable of fighting his way out of something like that.

"How're you doing, kid?" Tony asked, in what he was sure was their private channel, and Peter's heart warmed a little at the check-in. 

Then a repulsor blast took down a rather large robot that had been coming at him from behind, and Peter's heart rate stuttered through his chest.

Shit.

"Hanging in there," Peter told him, flipping backwards again. "Really hoping Mister Doctor Strange Sir gets here soon."

The way Tony groaned through the line had Peter smiling to himself even as he continued to fight.

Then, as if Peter had summoned the magical summoner, a portal appeared in his line of vision in a glorious display of sparkling orange happiness. 

“Hiya there, Mr. Magic Man,” Tony sing-songed through the comms, and Peter snickered even as he jumped onto a robot, electrocuted it, then jumped onto another. 

Doctor Strange must have been wearing his comms. He totally sounded like he was smiling when he said, “Hello, Tony. How are you?”

“Chatter!” Captain America barked, and Peter rolled his eyes even as he threw himself into the air, landed in a handstand on James’ shoulders, and threw himself onto another bot and punched its faceplate out.

Ew. Ew, slimy insides! 

Tony’s laugh was loud in his ears, but it was a sound that Peter loved. “Did you hear something, Doctor?” Tony asked, and his smile was even more evident in his voice. 

“Now is not the time, Tony,” Doctor Strange said seriously, which fit with his Serious Doctor Persona. 

But since Tony wasn't a Serious Doctor at all, he said, “Does that mean there is a time, magic hands?”

“Perhaps,” Doctor Strange said slowly, and then in a tone of voice that Peter could have happily lived his entire life never hearing, said, “As long as you’re a good boy.”

“Oh my god, brain bleach!” Peter screeched, and then he flipped over another bot as he let out a peal of laughter. 

His laughter died out when a pained roar echoed throughout the clearing, so loud that it shook the ground with its force. 

Oh, god. Hulk.

Peter whipped his head back, his mask zeroing in on where a rather large robot had used what looked suspiciously like a longsword to swipe at Hulk, leaving behind a wound that gushed with green blood. His heart pounded so loudly inside his chest that it drowned out the noise of fighting from all around him. 

He punched through a robot's head before he kicked off into a run, jumping and flipping as he made his way through a sea of metal with only one target in his mind’s eye.

He was about to leap over a cluster of robots, close enough that he could hear the way Hulk was panting for air as a large hand pressed against the even larger gash on his side, when a robot hit him in the chest. The impact sent Peter spiralling backwards, and his breath was knocked out of him when he hit the ground hard.  

It took him too long to orient himself, and he watched dazedly as robots fell in a circle all around him, steaming holes shot clean through each one's head.

The idea that headshots could kill robots made him want to laugh, but he shook off his disorientation and still-lingering pain and pushed himself up. He couldn't see James from where he was, but he mumbled a “thank you,” that made his voice crack and knew Karen would deliver it directly to him without having to ask.

As soon as Peter got his feet underneath him, all the robots around him fell at once, their mangled flesh melting away and leaving behind nothing but dirty metal and twisted wires.

He looked around, his hands shaking uncontrollably. Hulk was still looming in front of him despite how he was curled forward around his injury, and Peter realized just how close he’d managed to get. He could hear the Avengers talking over his comms, words flying by his ears and not making any sense. He didn't bother paying attention to what they were saying. Someone would fill him in later. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see that they were congregating around Doctor Strange, who was floating down to the ground all magical. 

Peter paid them no mind, and they seemed to pay Hulk no mind in turn.

"Hey, big green," Peter said as he approached slowly. He had no idea how Hulk would react to him while he was hurt, and he made sure that his steps were slow and measured. "How're you doing, buddy?"

Hulk grunted, and he sounded more pained than Peter had ever heard him. It made his chest clench and the worry surrounding his heart tightened. He stepped even closer, taking the same slow steps as he tried to get a closer look at the cut. 

The wound was high up on Hulk's chest, level with his heart and below his armpit, cutting across his entire side horizontally. It looked bad. It looked really bad, covered in green blood. He tried to get a closer look to see if it really was as bad as it seemed, but Peter could barely see the cut itself with how Hulk was covering it protectively.

"Do you mind sitting down?" Peter asked, wringing his hands together as Karen looked over Hulk's massive form with the million different scanners she had in his goggles. 

Since Peter knew next to nothing about medicine himself, she was cataloguing his injuries and she was doing it in a way that Peter didn't even know she was capable of, scanning Hulk's form and listing stats that didn't mean much to Peter but did nothing to dispel his worry.

Hulk grunted again, though he did as Peter asked. The ground shook as Hulk fell back onto his ass with a pout that was far too adorable. He was still holding his side, and even though Karen had pointed out a few smaller cuts, it was the big one that Peter was most worried about. He stepped forward, still moving slowly even though he was sure Hulk wouldn't hurt him, and he stepped around Hulk's legs to get at his side.

"Can I see your side, buddy?" Peter asked gently. Hulk made a noise, displeased, and his lips pulled further down. "Please, Hulk? I want to make sure you're okay."

"Oh… kay?" Hulk sounded out slowly, taking care to shape the syllables in his mouth. 

For a moment, Peter's heart felt unbearably full as he beamed under his mask.

"Exactly, big guy. I want to make sure that you're okay," Peter told him, and he reached out tentatively to put a hand on his thigh, bare from where a section of his shorts had been cut through. Slowly, so very slowly, Hulk moved his hand, resting his palm facing up on the thigh Peter wasn't touching. 

"Good job, thank you so much," Peter murmured quietly. Hulk's skin was rough under his hands, and he was so warm that Peter could feel him through his suit.

He slid his hand up slowly, keeping a solid pressure against his skin. He didn't want to do anything that might frighten him as he ran his hand up beside the path of drying blood. The wound, when Peter finally lifted his eyes to it, wasn't nearly as bad as it had seemed. Peter watched, openly fascinated, as the skin continued to knit over itself and tighten the wound. 

Whoa. Whoa, the wound was now a much lighter green, the barest hints of pink still visible in Hulk’s new skin, and Peter slid his hand over it gently.

Hulk shivered, strong enough that Peter's hand shook with it, and he made a noise that rumbled through his body and into Peter's. He stepped even closer, unable to stop himself until his body was only a breath away from Hulk's side. Hulk's arm curled closer, and Peter could feel the warmth of it along his back as it surrounded him. 

He dropped his head forward, resting his forehead against Hulk's side as Hulk so, so gently hugged him, holding Peter between his side with his forearm.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Peter whispered, and Hulk made another rumbling noise as Peter pressed his other hand against Hulk's side to hug him back.

The rumble faded away until there was silence, before slowly, so slowly, the skin Peter was pressed against began to shrink away. The arm that was holding him close fell away and left him feeling colder than the weather warranted. Peter took a half step back, and he watched curiously as Hulk shrunk down into Bruce, his green skin fading away as he became nothing more than a man.

An adorable, rumpled, completely unconscious man. 

Peter bent down and grabbed Bruce under his shoulders and knees before lifting him in a bridal carry. The shorts he had on were clearly too big now, and they hung loosely on Bruce's form, barely covering a thing. Peter did his best to keep his eyes focused straight ahead, not wanting to look despite the perfect opportunity he had. 

Bruce was unconscious, and even the thought of looking at him in that way while he was passed out turned Peter off from doing so.

Then Bruce's head rolled to the side so his forehead rested against Peter's chest, and once again his heart swelled until he wasn't sure how it could still fit inside his chest. 

Oh, yeah. He had it so, so bad. 

The Avengers weren’t too far away, but they were caught up in an argument and they didn’t seem to notice what was going on. Thankfully, he caught James' eyes through his mask, and the man nodded at him before he stepped forward abruptly, halting the back-and-forth conversation and drawing everyone's attention to where Peter was standing.

He didn't flinch, if only because of how grounding Bruce's weight felt in his arms. The man looked so peaceful in his sleep that Peter didn't want to do anything to pull him out of it, especially if he somehow felt Hulk’s pain and needed the rest to heal.

"Is there somewhere I can take him?" Peter asked, his suit distorting his voice into something foreign and safe.

Tony walked over to him, his face soft as he looked over Peter and Bruce. "C'mon, you can bring him to the ship."

The ship turned out to be a Quinjet that Peter hadn't noticed before, too caught up in Hulk and then the debriefing Tony had given him before the fight began. It was pretty obvious now, but it was tucked behind a few trees at the edge of the clearing. Peter figured that was how the Avengers had travelled here.

Peter climbed the ramp, following as Tony led him to what had to be the 'med bay'. The ship wasn't huge, but there was a smaller room that seemed to house a few different medical supplies. He laid Bruce carefully down on a bed and stepped back when Tony got to work on hooking him up to a few different monitors that meant nothing to Peter. 

He had no idea Tony knew who to do any of this stuff, and he watched in quiet awe, endlessly impressed by the man before him.

Tony gave him a hug before he left, but Peter stayed. He couldn't leave, not when he could still feel the phantom heat of Hulk holding him, when he could so clearly remember what Bruce had felt like in his arms. 

He watched Tony go, and then he sat in the corner, resting lightly atop a long metal table so that he could still clearly see Bruce's face. Peter pulled his knees up to his chest in an effort to soothe himself that did nothing. 

Not long after, Doctor Strange entered the room. He stood near the door and his hands glowed for a moment, lighting up with green sigils as he looked over Bruce's still body.

"The big one is fine, child," Doctor Strange told him, his hand warm on Peter's shoulder as he squeezed him comfortably. “It was a magic we hadn’t known Doom could wield, and that was why he was so severely injured. However, it will not affect his healing, and he and Doctor Banner will be alright when he awakens.”

Peter nodded, though he wasn't convinced. Bruce was breathing shallowly, hardly at all, and Peter… couldn't leave him alone when he didn’t know what was going to happen. Maybe his crush was silly and hopeless and stupid, but it was real, and he felt more than he knew how to name for Bruce and Hulk. 

He pulled his knees even tighter to his chest, and, making himself small in the corner of the ship's med bay, he settled in to wait and watch.

It wasn't a long flight to the Tower. 

Peter was glad for it, because he spent the whole thing curled up on a stiff medical table, watching Bruce closely for any signs that he was still alive. Well, he was obviously alive—heart monitors were seriously annoying—but he was breathing so shallowly that it was hard to tell if he was breathing at all, and Peter hated it. 

It didn't matter that he and Bruce had only spoken to each other a handful of times. Peter really liked him, and he wasn't able to stomach the thought of leaving the man alone before he woke up. Every time he blinked, he could see the gash that had torn across Hulk's side. He caught glimpses of green blood on green skin, and he couldn't leave.

There was no proof of injury on Bruce, but that only helped to comfort Peter a little.

When they landed, a team of doctors wheeled the medical bed—which was apparently also a stretcher—that Peter had placed Bruce onto out of the ship, and he followed behind them quietly. He listened attentively as they spoke to one another, sounding familiar enough with what was going on that Peter had to wonder if this happened every time Hulk was on the field. 

Just from their initial check over, some of the tension Peter had been carrying in his shoulders relaxed. From what he could gather, this was actually normal, and he realized that they had a whole system of things to do because of that. 

Even still, Peter followed them into the elevator and down to the medical floor, keeping himself small and out of the way. No one questioned him, which Peter was seriously thankful for. 

He had no idea what he would say. “Hi, I have a huge, embarrassing crush on him, please let me stay?”

Yeah, that would go over well. 

Once they were in a private room, Peter set himself up in a corner like he had in the jet. He climbed up onto a counter and curled himself up as small as he could. He watched quietly as the doctors attached Bruce to a few different machines. It didn’t take long before it was just the two of them, and once the last Doctor had left, Peter peeled off his mask. 

Once he could breathe, he let his head fall back against the wall, his heart thumping in his chest like it had since Hulk first hugged him. 

Now that he was able to think about it, Peter found himself absolutely overwhelmed with how everything felt. His cheeks heated up with a blush that he willed down uselessly. He knew that he had feelings for Bruce but… Hulk was different. 

Hell, Peter wasn’t even sure if it was okay to have feelings for Hulk. Would Hulk even know what Peter’s feelings meant? Would he even ever be able to feel anything back?

No, Peter scolded himself, that wasn’t fair to Hulk. 

While the other Avengers didn’t think much of the green creature, Peter knew that the Hulk understood what he was saying! They’d had three back-and-forth conversations now, and Hulk had never struggled to keep up. Sure, he communicated differently, but he still communicated. 

Hulk’s natural curiosity and enthusiasm were sweet. Really sweet, if Peter was being honest with himself. Hell, Hulk had been so happy to see Peter at the Tower and then again at the field, that Peter felt like his heart was going to burst just remembering the happy smile on Hulk’s face and the ease with which he’d held Peter up. 

Thinking of that… 

Shaking his head, Peter focused on something that wouldn’t get him hard, Jesus. 

Hulk had been so worried about Peter when he first saw him today, making sure that he was okay before anything else. He had obviously remembered their game of catch and knew that something had gone wrong, and had been able to understand that Peter might have gotten hurt. 

He wasn’t just some mindless creature. It was true that Hulk may not understand, like, sexual attraction, but that didn’t mean couldn’t feel something for Peter. Besides, it wasn’t like he could really know if he asked him—or, technically, he could ask Bruce, but… that might not go over too well.

Yeah, no. He’d definitely have to ask Hulk directly. And he’d have to ask Hulk directly because… because Peter had a crush on the Incredible Hulk. 

But so what! It wasn’t that big of a deal, since it wasn’t going to go anywhere and it totally didn’t matter anyway. 

No, it didn’t matter at all. 

Peter was roused from his thoughts when the heart rate monitor started beeping faster. He shot his eyes up to find Bruce twitching, and his breathing finally started speeding up as his head rolled a little to the side. He leaned forward, his body going tense with anticipation as he watched Bruce’s eyelids twitch before finally fluttering open. 

For a moment, he looked around the room, though his eyes caught on Peter quickly.

"P-Peter?" Bruce croaked. His voice was hoarse, and Peter quickly unfolded from the corner so he could get him water.

“Here,” Peter said softly, stepping up to Bruce’s bed. 

One of his hands gently brushed back Bruce’s hair as the other lifted a prefilled styrofoam cup to his lips. Bruce took a few small sips, and Peter quickly stepped back once he was done. 

Bruce’s eyes were still on him, and it felt like he was seeing more than Peter was comfortable with. 

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked him quietly. His voice still sounded rough, but it didn’t have the same gravelly tone as before he’d taken a drink. 

“Oh, uh…” Peter’s mind flashed to the embrace that he and Hulk had shared, and his cheeks flushing when he remembered what it had felt like to be pressed so close to Hulk’s sheer size, feeling so small in the crook of his arm. He cleared his throat, loudly, and then said “I was checking over Hulk when you… shrunk? And it, uhm, it didn’t feel right to leave you alone? ”

“Checking him over?” Bruce asked with a raised brow. 

He didn’t sound unhappy or upset, and Peter was glad. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Bruce was mad at him. He wasn’t sure why Bruce would be mad at him, but that didn’t seem to matter for Peter’s brain. 

“Oh, yeah! He got hurt during the fight—a really bad cut to his side—and I was making sure that it wasn’t too bad.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling too exposed under Bruce’s stare. “

“No one else checked up on him,” he added bitterly, dropping his eyes to the floor before looking back up. 

“The Hulk heals, Peter,” Bruce told him. There was the small smile twitching over the older man’s lips, and it made Peter feel like his insides were on his outsides in a ridiculous way that made no sense at all.

“Okay.” Peter took a deep breath. “A lot of us heal, Bruce. That doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be cared for.”

“That’s… true,” Bruce said slowly, like he was parsing out his words before he said them.

“I mean, I healed after I got a building dropped on me, but that doesn’t mean it still didn’t seriously suck. Medicine isn’t my speciality, like, at all, but I know that a cut to the armpit can be bad, right? Something about bleeding out? And Hulk had a really big cut!”

“I… you…” Bruce didn’t seem to know what else to say, so Peter took over. 

“It was a really bad cut. I was really worried about him!”

Bruce was silent for a minute that stretched on and on, until Peter wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there staring at Bruce staring at him, but knowing it had been too long. 

He was totally not making a good impression! 

Finally, Bruce cleared his throat and, in a heavy voice, said, “Thank you.”

“I… yeah—yeah, it was no problem,” Peter whispered, and pretended that he wasn’t still thinking about the way Hulk had held him, more than once, or the way Bruce’s hands had felt on his skin as he drew his blood and, afterwards, as he had trailed them down Peter's arms and over his hands. 

Bruce didn’t say anything, so neither did Peter, too caught up in his own swirling thoughts and the kind, handsome look on Bruce’s face. It felt like there was something in the air between them that he couldn't, wouldn’t, name. It felt heavy, though, and Peter liked the way the silence wrapped around them. 

He was still standing close to Bruce’s bed, but he shuffled even close with the bravery that the silence gave him. He leaned to the side so that his hip was pressing into the cool metal railing of Bruce’s bed. 

He wanted to feel more.

Neither of them looked away. 

A knock sounded out, startling them from their staring. Peter flushed darkly, and he could feel the warmth was seeping down his neck and under his uniform. He flinched back from the bed, and turned around to find James.

James, who was leaning against the door frame, back in civvies, with a smirk on his face. He looked ridiculous, really, and Peter wasn’t at all embarrassed at being caught in Bruce’s room standing next to Bruce’s hospital bed. 

They weren’t even doing anything! Peter had really just been standing there! 

And then, Because James was the worst, he started speaking. “Hey, Pete. Ya done oglin’ and ready to go? It’s gettin’ pretty late.” 

Peter’s eyes flicked over to the wall clock to see that James was right. Shit, Aunt May was going to be worried. He didn’t have his phone on him and his mask wasn’t on, so he had no idea if May had even texted him. He hadn’t had his mask on in ages! She could have texted him so many times!

“Oh my god, yeah. May’s gonna be so mad!” Peter groaned when James laughed at him, sending the man a withering look. He turned back to Bruce and, slowly, said, “I’m sorry but I really need to go. I hope that you feel better soon, and that Hulk is doing okay as well.”

“Thank you,” Bruce told him seriously, and his voice was so warm Peter thought he could feel it. “Have a good night, Peter.”

Peter nodded and smiled. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly darted forward and bent down so he could press the gentlest of kisses to Bruce’s forehead, before all but running from the room to the wretched tune of James’ cackling laughter. 

Chapter Text

Peter woke up slowly, utterly exhausted and clinging to the sweet pull of sleep for as long as he freaking could. He hadn't felt the drain on his body from the fight until he'd crawled into bed, his adrenaline crashing the second he flopped onto his mattress and was able to let out a shaky, shuddering sigh that tasted like fear.

The second his body realized everything was over, it also realized that everything freaking hurt. 

Still, it hadn’t taken long for Peter to pass out. The moment he was under his covers he was falling asleep, pulled down by a bone-deep tiredness that he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Long enough that he almost couldn’t remember it. As Peter rose further into wakefulness, he couldn’t help but think back to the first few months after he’d gotten his powers. Back then, Peter had been fourteen and terrified, swinging around New York City in a pair of freaking pyjamas, constantly plagued by a fear so sharp that it burned his throat until his voice was always raw. 

As scary as it had been fighting the Avengers in Germany, Peter would never be able to regret the role it’d played in bringing him to where he was today. Meeting Tony, learning from Tony, working with Tony… that had been seriously life-changing (and, when he really thought about it, probably life- saving). Now, he didn’t like thinking back to those first few months, when he’d been one large raw nerve, seconds away from falling apart. 

And since he had also been trying to save the freaking world, Peter had been pretty much dead tired all the time, walking and swinging around half asleep. 

Honestly, it was a miracle that he was still alive to feel this tired, when he thought about it. 

Which wasn’t something that he needed to keep doing. Pushing those negative thoughts away, Peter reached out to tap his phone. Then he scrubbed his eyes and tapped his phone again when what he saw didn’t make any sense. 

He’s slept for eleven hours?   Peter couldn't remember that last time he'd slept for that long, let alone slept that well, and he rolled over with a happy groan. He stretched out his back as he did the mental math again to make sure he’d seriously slept longer than his average five to six hours, and he made another, longer groan when his back popped.

Taking stock of himself, Peter was happy that the ache in his bones was already gone. Super healing definitely had its perks, and as he stretched out his feet and rolled his ankles, he let himself float in a hazy headspace of pleasure. 

The sheets were pooled low around his waist, and he slid his hand down his bare stomach with a shiver.

Goosebumps broke out over his skin when he touched himself, raising the hairs along his body while another shiver slid down his spine. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and he scratched idly through his messy patch of pubic hair, wondering if he should do something about it. He’d shaved when he first started growing pubes, not liking the way they’d looked or felt, but he just hadn’t had time recently. 

He toyed with his happy trail, avoiding his own erection for now. Peter didn’t normally have the patience to draw anything like this out, not when he mostly jacked off when he was strung up with stress and it was keeping him from falling asleep. 

Now, though, Peter felt like he had all the time in the world. It was Sunday morning, light was streaming in from his window and warming his chest, and Peter could draw it out if he wanted to. 

With a soft sight and a softer smile, he wrapped a hand around himself and his hips thrust upwards on their own. Fuck, even that felt better than anything he’d done to himself in months. When was the last time he’d even focused on pleasure when he was masturbating? 

Did he even know? 

Groaning quietly, he began to stroke himself in a loose grip, his thoughts still lazy with sleep and pleasure.

Peter didn’t know where his mind was wandering at first. He let it go, filtering through thoughts that were hazy around the edges. He took a deep breath when the web of his thumb caught against the head of his cock and sharp, burning pleasure slid up his body. Fuck. 

Along the edges of his memory, Peter could remember how warm Hulk’s skin had felt through his suit, and how good it had felt to be pressed against him. Vividly, he could remember the way Hulk had hugged him, the way that he had pressed Peter into his side and held him close, and how gentle he’d been as Peter looked at the cut on his side. 

He bit into his lip to keep in a groan as his hand sped up. Peter gently rolled down his foreskin so he could thumb over the head, his thighs spasming against the bed as heat pooled through his belly. Moving his hand faster, his back arched with a soft sight as he pressed his thumb against the sensitive glans.

He knew it wasn’t going to take long. Yeah, it wasn’t going to take long at all. 

Moaning softly, he let his other hand trail over his chest to play with his sensitive nipples. They were already erect, and Peter gently brushed his thumb against them as his arousal grew heavier and heavier. 

As he worked his cock, he overlaid the warmth of Bruce’s scent with the memory of Hulk hugging him, being pressed up against so much warm skin , and it wasn’t long before he was spilling over his fist as he panted for breath.

He shook out of his skin as he came and came, shooting come onto his belly and chest. Pleasure erupted from his cock, his balls drawing up tight as his orgasm rushed through him. It lasted forever, drawing on as Peter used two hands to draw it out, thumbing across the sensitive head to ring out the pleasure for even longer.

He came down from his high slowly, sinking into the mattress with a contented sigh. He blindly reached for a handful of tissues to mop up his come, laughing quietly when he had to grab another handful of tissues with how covered he was. Shit, no wonder that felt so good.

Peter floated along the edge of sleep for a while longer, pulled back down towards unconsciousness post-orgasm. He let himself lay in it, soaking up pleasure in a way he hadn’t been able to in far too long. 

Stretching to crack his back, Peter yawned widely as the last of his lethargy faded away. He accepted that he was awake for the day, and pushed himself out of bed with a groan. 

Ugh. Gross. 

To make things less gross, Peter dressed lazily. He pulled on a sweater ‘cause his stomach still felt a bit sticky, but didn’t bother with grabbing pants. 

He stumbled through the hallway, making a pit stop in the hallway to go to the bathroom and wash the come off his hands, before he continued shuffling towards the kitchen. The floors were cool, and Peter wished he’d put on socks. 

Then Peter came to a stumbling stop when he saw May, not at all prepared to find her sitting at the table with a mug of steaming tea in front of her. 

May had been up when Peter finally got home last night, but Peter had been too exhausted to say anything to her. Hell, he’d been too tired to say anything to anyone at all, and he hadn’t even been able to say bye to James after the man had practically carried him to his apartment door. 

May had been awake and Peter had given her a weak wave and a weaker smile, and now he was absolutely certain he’d messed up. 

She was facing the hallway, and even though she wasn't looking at him, Peter was sure she knew he was there. He could feel her awareness, and even though May didn’t ping along his senses as dangerous, he was still heavily aware of her presence. 

Aware enough that he didn’t want to walk any further. At least not until she’d said something. 

Instead, Peter leaned against the hallway wall. He knew that they were going to have to talk about all the things they weren’t talking about eventually, but Peter wasn’t sure if they were going to be having that talk today. All he knew was that the air was heavy, and May still wasn’t looking at him. 

He swallowed heavily, and totally didn’t whimper when she finally looked up at him. 

"Peter," May said quietly. Her voice sounded worn out, and the skin around her eyes was dark now that it wasn't covered by any makeup. 

She looked tired. She looked more tired than he’s ever seen her, more tired than when she and Ben took him in, and more tired than when they lost Ben. Peter's heart clenched painfully, his chest feeling so tired he could barely breathe, knowing he was the cause of her obvious exhaustion.

"Hey Aunt May," he whispered, though he didn't move from his perch against the wall. He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to move even if he wanted to, but it felt safer with the distance between them. She sighed heavily, and the sound made Peter's stomach flip over itself. 

Trying to sound like he wasn’t going to cry, he asked, "How are you?"

"I'm tired, Peter." 

Her voice was heavy with something he didn’t want to name. Peter wasn’t sure if May had ever spoken to him like that, but he knew at once that he didn’t like it. He also knew that she wasn't just talking about her apparent lack of sleep when she said she was tired. 

He didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell her what was going on. Not yet. Not when it was still too dangerous. The silence that stretched between them was heavy, heavier than he’d ever wanted to make it, and it weighed heavier and heavier on Peter's chest and made it so, so difficult to breathe. 

May took a deep, shuddering breath, and Peter prepared himself for the worst. 

"I'm tired of the lying, Peter. I'm tired of you coming home whenever you feel like it, without so much as a text to let me know what's going on. You told me that you weren't involved with that man, and I believed you, but then he all but carried you up to our apartment, only for you to pass out for eleven hours!”

Peter swayed back, his eyes wide as May’s voice seemed to echo around the room even after she was done talking. May didn’t yell at him very much. Peter had always been well-behaved, not wanting to put out his aunt and uncle any more than he’d already had just by making them raise him. 

He still tried his best to be well-behaved, but… there was only so much Peter could do with the web of lies that spanned out between them, too big to get past.

"I'm not dating James," Peter whispered after a lingering silence, the only accusation he had an honest answer to.

"That's not what's important!" May snapped, finally looking up. 

Her eyes were red. She looked like she’d spent the night crying in a way that Peter never wanted to see again, and he hated it. Hated that it was his fault. 

Her eyes were boring into Peter as if they could see into his soul, and he had to drop his eyes from the intensity in her gaze. She saw too much. She’d always seen too much, and that’s why he had to lie and lie and lie. 

Apparently, May was thinking the exact same thing.

"You lie to me, Peter. You lie to me constantly! And I pretend that you don't, because I remember what it was like to be your age, and I can't, for a single second, imagine what it would be like to be your age and know the loss you've gone through. You’ve suffered enough without me breathing down your neck, but… 

“But Peter, I love you. I can't keep letting you do whatever the hell you want and pretending not to see any of it. I have always been honest with you. And… I know you might think that lying is better, safer, but it's not. I promise you, it never, never is, no matter what it is that’s going on. 

“I'm not forcing you to do anything, but I want you to know that you can come to me with anything at all,” she told him clearly, and while her voice was kind, the insinuation was enough to send Peter into a panic.

May couldn't know. 

May couldn’t know. 

Peter had spent so long hiding it. He had put so much effort into keeping his identity a secret from her, doing everything that he could to make sure that she never found out that he was Spider-Man. 

Because if May knew, she would get hurt. And May getting hurt was terrifying when she was all he had left. Peter's chest got tighter and tighter as he thought of all the danger that he was putting him in, even coming home to their apartment each night. 

Oh god. If James could follow him home without Peter noticing, what was to say that someone else couldn't?

Sure, James was a deadly assassin and Peter's usual enemies were thieves or slightly-powered villains, but it suddenly felt like he was putting May in danger just by coming home. All this time trying to keep her safe, Peter had been putting her in danger without even realizing it. What type of nephew was he? What type of superhero was he?

Panic clawed up his throat and made it hard to breathe. Peter had no idea what he was going to do or how he was going to keep May safe. He couldn't lose her—she was the only family he had left, and he couldn't lose her.

And he was. He was going to lose her. He was going to lose her all because he hadn’t been careful enough, because he’d come home and led all the bad guys directly to her. What type of monster was he?

Suddenly, May was there, wrapping him up in her warm arms and holding him close. 

She smelt like family. Like home and safety. She’d been there his entire life, even when she didn’t need to be, when it would've been easier if she wasn’t. She hugged him, now, and Peter felt like he had when he realized his parents were never coming back again, too young to know what loss was but mourning his parents all the same.

He let out a choked sob, his eyes burning with tears that he refused to let spill over. He wasn't the one who should be crying, not when he’d put her in danger. But the thought of her knowing was too much. Even without the fact that he’d been risking her life, it felt like telling her who he was would unravel everything, and that wasn't something that Peter could handle. 

No. No, he needed things to stay how they were. He'd built such a carefully constructed life around the secrets that he was forced to keep, and he had no idea what would happen if that all fell apart. 

He would fall apart.

He hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her small waist and holding on with only a fraction of his strength, all too aware of how strong he was. May meant the world to him, and he would never be able to pay her back for everything she had done for him. He couldn’t even ever try, but… 

Telling her could ruin everything. It could break apart everything he’s worked so hard for so long to build. But maybe… maybe for May he could try? He breathed in her scent, letting it calm the anxious beating of his heart and soothe some of the fear that was choking him. 

He pushed aside the panic, telling himself that it was okay, and that she didn't know.

She didn’t know, and for now, that was okay. 

"I'm trying," whispered against her shoulder, and it was the most honest truth he’d told her in what felt like a lifetime.

Peter had been quick to leave the apartment after their hug. He still felt too raw, too exposed, and he hadn't wanted to stay around when it felt like May could see inside his soul and read his secrets. 

Instead of hanging around, he’d texted Ned as soon as he was able to beg off to his room, and thank god his best friend was just as reliable as always. Even back in his room, the apartment had felt too small, and Peter had barely been able to breathe as he quickly got dressed.

Peter decided to take the metro—after his conversation with May, he didn't feel up to swinging around the city—so it took a bit longer than it normally would to get to the upper part of town. Walking to Ned’s house always made him feel a bit uncomfortable, like all the people in all the big houses would be able to tell that he’d never belong in a neighbourhood like this. 

It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, now that he regularly hung out with Tony Stark and was, also, a superhero, but it sure as heck wasn’t great. 

But, just like always, Ned was waiting by his front door when Peter finally got there, and he smiled widely when his friend pulled him into a warm hug. 

The hug was super awesome. Ned hugged like no one else, and his hugs were always warm and all-encompassing. Peter had only told Ned that he and May had gotten into a fight, but seeing as that rarely happened, he didn't blame Ned for thinking it was serious.

They really didn’t fight a lot, and Peter wasn’t even totally sure what had happened had been a fight, but it sure as heck wasn’t something Peter had wanted to explain over text. How was he supposed to explain that, anyway? 

Sure, Ned knew that May didn’t know, but he didn’t understand why May couldn’t know, and that made everything so much harder. 

But he didn’t want to think about that. Not anymore. 

"I'm okay," Peter whispered into Ned's neck, but he didn't pull away. 

Sure, he didn’t want to think about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want more hug time. Ned was warm, and hugging him had always brought Peter comfort.

They'd been friends their whole lives, after all.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ned asked him quietly, his own face smashed into Peter's neck. His lips tickled his throat, and a shiver ran down his spine at the sensation. 

Peter shrugged, though he didn't say anything, and he still didn't move to pull away.

He did not want to talk about it.

So instead of talking about it, he stayed in the warm bubble of Ned’s arms for long minutes before he finally moved.

When he pulled back, Peter was able to muster up a wide smile for his best friend. He'd always known how lucky he was that Ned had taken him in during the second grade, after his parents had passed away and he'd had to move in with his aunt, but it was times like this that he was most thankful.

Ned understood him—well, understood the Peter parts of him—better than anyone else, and that’s what Peter needed today.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Ned asked, and Peter smiled at him again.

"Want to watch a movie? I'm not really feeling up to too much," he admitted, though he wasn't embarrassed about coming over literally just to get away and see Ned. 

Ned had been there through everything he’d ever gone through, basically, and he knew how drained Peter always felt after fighting with May. Even if this wasn’t a fight fight, it certainly hadn’t left Peter feeling very good.

Ned grinned, ‘cause he was the best, and then ‘cause he was seriously the best, he said, "Sure. I’ve got the new Star Wars upstairs."

“Heck yes!”

Peter followed Ned through his house and up his very grand and very round staircase. Ned's house was wild, but the other boy hadn’t ever made him feel out of place in it. The money was Ned's parents’, and while he got a hefty allowance, he'd pretty much always spent it on things that he and Peter could do together. 

And while Peter knew his apartment could probably fit into their main room, Ned had never acted like he was better than anyone else just because he had money. Hell, not many people other than Peter even knew he did.

Ned's room was as messy as it usually was before he cleaned it up so the cleaners could come through. Peter looked around idly, waiting as Ned climbed into his very messy closet to sort through his clutter to find the movie. His eyes caught on something that definitely did not belong: a shiny, black leather jacket hung over the back of Ned's deckchair.

"That is definitely not your jacket," Peter said as Ned stepped out of the closet. 

When he turned to Ned his lips twisted up into a grin, his smile only growing when he saw how red Ned's cheeks were. 

Oh my god.

Did this mean what Peter thought it meant? 

"James left it here the other night," Ned mumbled, and Peter had to bite into his bottom lip to keep in a noise of pure enthusiasm.

Oh my god! It did!

"Oh really?” Peter asked, stretching out the word ridiculously and grinning at Ned’s exasperated face. “Why was James here?"

Peter couldn’t keep his smile down as Ned moved around the room. While he had really been hoping that something would happen, he hadn’t been expecting something to happen so quickly! At least, not something that neither of them told him about. 

Peter ignored the momentary flash of hurt, and reminded himself that if they hadn’t told him about it, there was probably a reason for it. 

"We were just hanging out," Ned said, though he turned away and fiddled with the comforter on his bed.

Oh. Oh, they were hanging out and Ned was embarrassed about it! 

Peter smiled even wider, taking a long stride forward and hopping onto Ned's bed with a bounce. He looked up at his best friend and wiggled his eyebrows. "Just hanging out, huh?"

"Yes, Peter. Just hanging," Ned snapped, before he turned around and put his back to Peter.

Peter sunk back onto his elbows as he stared up at the back of his friend’s head. He didn't like the way Ned’s shoulders were curled inward or the way his head was hanging down between them. He really didn’t like the way that Ned had turned away from him, especially when Peter had just been teasing. 

Clearly, this wasn’t something to tease about. 

Peter chewed on his bottom lip before he pushed himself off Ned’s bed. It squeaked, but Ned didn’t react. Peter stepped forward and reached out, running a hand up from Ned's lower back until it was resting along his shoulders. He tugged him in, holding Ned against his side as he squeezed him.

Ned laid his head on his shoulder, and Peter took a second to think through what he wanted to say. 

"Hey, you know I think this is awesome, right? If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s totally cool. But I’m always going to be here to talk you up, because that’s what you deserve. And honestly, Ned, James is great. He’s great, but you're super great, and if you guys like each other, well… I think it might be worth trying for something!"

Ned was quiet for a while, but eventually, he shrugged his shoulders and turned a bit more into Peter's side. 

Peter happily hugged him closer. 

"We were just hanging out. Watching a movie. He has this list of media and stuff, but we watched The Incredibles Two because it just came out. It was… nice. I've never really hung out with anyone other than you. I wasn’t totally watching the movie ‘cause I’d already seen it, but I was trying not to watch James too, ‘cause I thought that would be kinda weird. We were in the entertainment room, and he had his arm around me, uh, well…"

"You don't have to tell me this if you don't want to," Peter said quietly, once it had been more than a few seconds since Ned trailed off. He turned them around before nudging Ned forward a little, encouraging him to sit on the bed and climbing on after him, pulling his friend into a side cuddle. "You're my best friend, so if you want to tell me about what happened, I would love to hear about it all. But you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

"No, I do," Ned told him quietly, resting his hand on Peter's thigh. Peter was quick to twine their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. "I feel like I'm going crazy not being able to talk to anyone about all of this, and… you’re kinda all I have."

Peter felt a sharp pang against his heart. For so long, it had only been the two of them. Neither of them had really had any other close friends, but that had been fine! Peter sure hadn’t been overly bothered by it, especially because Ned was the bestest friend he could ever need. 

But then the spider bite had changed everything. Suddenly, Peter didn’t only have Ned—he had the weight of the world, but he also had Tony Stark and everything that came with that. Hell, it was still the two of them for Ned, but now Peter had this whole other life and Ned… wasn’t really a part of it. 

Sure, he listened to Peter, and he tried to understand, but he couldn’t. Peter didn’t even want him to! He’d never wish everything that came along with hero-ing on anyone, let alone his best friend. 

But that all meant that Peter… hadn’t been for Ned what Ned had been for him, and he realized, in startling clarity, that he needed to do better. 

Squeezing Ned tight, he said, "Well, you know you can always come to me,” and vowed that he would make sure that was true. 

Ned took a great, heaving breath, and then started talking. 

"It's just weird. Or I think it's weird. I've never even thought of being with a guy before. I don’t even know what that makes me, if it makes me anything at all, but James is… Pete, he's really attractive. Like, literally super attractive and I don't—I don't understand what he sees in me? Or if it's anything more than just… I don't know. Maybe… maybe it’s some weird fetish thing? I know I’m not attractive, ya know, so maybe he has a thing for fat guys? And I don’t know… I don’t know if I want it to be something more than that, either."

Peter was quiet for a moment, taking in what Ned said. Honestly, he had no idea what the other boy was feeling. Sure, he’d never dated anyone, but he’d also never been worried anyone wanted him just because they had, like, a fetish for what he looked like. And while he’d had that moment with Bruce, he hadn’t ever had to question that. 

What would that be like? What would that worry be like?

He didn’t know, but he did know his best friend and, hopefully, how to make him feel better. 

If nothing else, Peter had to try. 

It was easy to decide that Ned's comfort was worth more than anything else. And Peter was pretty sure that James wouldn’t want Ned thinking that he was just some gross fetishist, so he probably wasn’t doing anything too bad.

"Ned, I promise that he does care about you. He was so nervous after the first time you guys met and I had to walk him out that he even called me to make sure that you were okay!"

"Oh," Ned said, looking down at his lap. His cheeks went pink, the same way they had when Peter had first introduced him to James. 

That was probably a good sign, right? Damn, Peter really needed to talk to James again to make sure he was still into Ned. He seemed really into Ned before, but… Peter would just have to double-check.

"He kissed me,” Ned whispered. “It was amazing and it felt so good, but I couldn't figure out why he was kissing me. So… I pushed him away and wouldn't tell him what was wrong and then he left, and he's tried texting me and calling me but I don't know what to say, so I haven't said anything and what if he hates me now? Oh my god Peter, what if I ruined everything? What if he really had been into me but then I messed it all up by being me?" 

Ned took a deep breath once he’d used his all up, and Peter rubbed Ned's back and supported his weight, listening quietly as his friend unloaded. "I'm not attractive. And I don't mean that in some self-pity type way because I don’t care. But I know that I'm not desirable. I can't understand why someone like that would ever want anything to do with me!"

"Ned…" Peter started quietly, hugging his friend tighter even as his heart ached. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing and just held Ned close.

“It’s okay. I know what I look like. And I'm… I'm fine with it, really. I don't care. But James is… James is the most attractive person I've ever freaking met. And not just to me! He’s, like, universally hot. Have you seen his arm?" Ned took a deep breath, and when Peter looked over, his face was red and his eyes were wet. "I don't measure up. He could have anyone, it doesn't make sense for him to want me."

"Have you talked to him about that?" Peter asked quietly, frowning when Ned snorted.

"And help him realize I'm not worth his time after one not-date where I freaked out on him? No way, dude." 

Peter hugged Ned tighter.

He had no idea what to say to make anything better, and he felt terrible for it. 

He could tell Ned that he was awesome, that Peter genuinely thought he was attractive, but he knew it wouldn't do anything good. They were best friends, closer to brothers, and while Peter might think Ned was hot, he knew that wouldn’t make Ned feel better. He had only ever seen Ned like this once before, and that was when they were in the eighth grade and he'd been texting with a girl in their class. 

Peter had encouraged him then, too, only… it hadn't gone over well. It really hadn’t gone over well, and Peter was sure that experience was probably colouring how he felt now, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

"I'm really sorry, buddy," Peter said quietly. 

He held Ned tightly, and he had to hope that was enough. 

Ned didn’t say anything else, so the two of them fell into a comfortable silence together. Ned breathed slowly, like he did whenever he needed to calm down from something. If Ned was too excited or too scared or too upset, he forgot to breathe. Peter had been watching him focus on his breathing for so long that, anytime Peter got too overwhelmed or too scared when he was Spider-Man, Peter would immediately think of Ned and Ned’s breathing to calm himself down.

Now as he listened to Ned do just that, Peter held him, offering as much comfort as he could.

"Enough about me," Ned said a few minutes later. His voice sounded forced, but Peter wasn’t gonna call him out on it. "Let's talk about you and your love life." 

Peter said nothing about the change in topic. If that was what Ned needed, he’d definitely let the focus turn onto himself. 

He still groaned, if only to hear Ned laugh, and he leaned back so he could hide his face in his hands. He knew where this was going to go and he did not want it to go there. Not at all.

"There is nothing to talk about," Peter said pitifully, peeking between his fingers to see Ned smiling at him. 

It was a really good change, so Peter figured he could put up with it if it got Ned smiling again. After all, fair was fair, right?

If Ned had just bared his soul and talked about the guy he liked, Peter should probably do the same thing, right?

Uh. Where was a life-threatening event when you needed one?

"That's not what James told me," Ned said, poking Peter's side. He squealed, but he didn’t try too hard to move away. "I heard you and Hulk shared a rather endearing hug the other day."

Peter blushed, closing his fingers to once again hide his face. 

Oh my god.  

"Oh my god, how do you even know that? That happened yesterday!" Peter squeezed, sending Ned an accusing glance. 

He wasn’t supposed to be talking to James! How the hell was he finding this out if they weren’t talking to each other?

"James sent me a photo," Ned said quietly. “I, uh, didn’t answer him.”

Peter leaned up to bump their shoulders together.

Fair. 

Peter took a deep breath, and told himself that Ned wasn’t going to judge him. He could feel however he felt about Hulk, and he knew that Ned would accept him no matter what, ‘cause that was the type of friendship they had.

Okay, Peter. Take your deep breaths and just be honest. 

"Hulk got cut really badly. I-I… I was super worried, and no one else was, so I went over to make sure he was okay. I was so scared,” Peter whispered. He took another deep breath, and refocused. “When I was checking him over, he hugged me," Peter explained quietly. He could feel his face getting warm as he talked, and a squirming, bubbling heat built inside his belly.

God, hugging Hulk had been like nothing else. 

He heard Ned snicker, which was rude since Peter was kinda freaking out, but he didn’t call him out on it. He was a great friend. 

"Hugged you, huh? And how was that?” Ned asked, with more innuendo than was probably deserved.

Or… maybe not. 

"He's like… really big, dude," Peter mumbled, finally lowering his hands and settling them in his lap. Did he have anything else to say? He wasn’t sure. Hulk was big, but he was also patient, and kind-hearted, and such a freaking sweetheart that Peter… didn’t even know how to put it all into words, not really. 

He picked at his nail, and something close to shame welled up inside his chest.

It was one thing to be attracted to a man in his forties, but Hulk… was a whole other matter. Fuck, Peter didn’t even know what to call Hulk. He was a person, obviously, but he wasn't really human, was he? Not at that level of mutation. But he wasn’t a monster. He really wasn’t a monster.

Was it even okay to… to feel things about Hulk? Fuck. Peter had no idea how he felt, not really, but he knew that thinking about Hulk made him feel warm in all the same ways that thinking about Bruce did. And even though he hadn't yet let himself think about it, at least not seriously, he knew that thinking about Hulk turned him on.

Was that even okay?

"I just don't know. Is it wrong?" Peter finally admitted, curling forward when he felt something uncomfortable climb up his belly.

Even though he hadn’t been letting himself think about it, it had still been there, festering in the back of his mind. He was so worried that he was somehow doing something perverted, feeling the Hulk the way that he did.

Was it wrong? Was he wrong?

"James was telling me that Hulk isn't treated very well, but that he's smarter than people seem to realize,” Ned said idly. 

"He is!" Peter shouted, throwing his hands out with feeling. No one was going to talk Hulk down in his presence, not even his best friend. "He's so much smarter than the team thinks he is! He's always understood me when we talked and he's so sweet. Ned, he's so sweet! We were training, and he was doing so well, and even though I was the reason they tranquillized him, he asked if I was okay the next time he saw me. Which means that he remembered the training and what had happened! And he asked! He asked if I was okay after he caught me and held me up, and he wasn’t even upset that I’d been the reason he was hurt!

“I… fuck, Ned, I was so worried when he got hurt, and he was so patient when I was checking him over. He totally listened to everything I said. He even sat down for me!"

"Ah, so that's how you got a hug?" Ned questioned, humour in his voice that had Peter realizing he’d kinda been shouting that whole time.

Whoops. 

"Yeah," Peter said quietly, glancing up at his friend even as his cheeks heated up. “That’s how I got a hug.”

Ned chuckled, though it was kind. He smiled at Peter warmly and told him, "I don't think there's anything wrong with being attracted to him. Hulk isn't some mindless monster who doesn't understand anything, right?"

"Yeah, that's true. He understands a lot," Peter said, sitting up so he could cuddle back into Ned’s side when something big and vulnerable built up in his chest. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Ned parroted, and they smiled as they knocked their shoulders together.

Another few minutes of easy silence passed between them, both of them lost in thought. Peter could have never imagined them like this, each of them lost in their own world and thinking about the older superheroes they liked. Like, even that thought alone was pretty unbelievable. 

He couldn't say he wasn't just a little bit jealous that the hero Ned liked actually liked him back, not when Peter was pretty sure that Bruce, despite the few moments they shared, would never return his feelings. After all, he was in his forties, and Peter certainly was not. 

That would totally be too weird for him, right?

"So, when you first called I, uh. Got something ready?" Ned said suddenly, pulling Peter from his dumb, sad thoughts. 

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile on his face, glad that Ned was Ned, since he didn’t feel bad at all. 

Sure, he felt kinda awkward and exposed, but he knew Ned didn’t care about anything he’d admitted. They were still best friends, and that was all that mattered to either of them.

"Oh?" Peter asked, sitting up.

"My plans were waylaid by your dramatics," Ned said seriously, nodding his head dramatically when Peter shot him an incredulous look. "Don't front, spider-boy. The new Star Wars movie was part of it, but there was something else, too, in case you didn’t have a plan for what you wanted to do."

Peter rolled his eyes, but he trailed after Ned when the other boy stood from the bed. Ned told him that he had set up the media room—which was something that Peter would never get over, no matter how long they were best friends. Seriously, who had a media room? 

However, he nearly lost his breath when they stepped into the room. 

It was piled up with all the Star Wars bedding that Ned owned, pillows and comforters all piled up on the large couches that faced the crazy big projector pad. There were legos spread out across the entire floor, a mix of previously built projects and unopened boxes that contained giant projects they had yet to start but had been impatiently waiting until they had the time. 

And they finally had the time!

"Dude," Peter said, slightly choked up but smiling through it. "This is awesome."

"Well, you sounded pretty upset when you called," Ned told him, rubbing the back of his neck even as he ducked his head cutely.

Peter shot forward to hug him, pressing his smile into the warm skin of Ned's neck and holding on tightly.

Yeah. Ned was the best friend ever.

Chapter Text

Peter's phone pinged just as he was about to place his last piece of Lego onto the New Hope Imperial Star Destroyer.

Ugh. He groaned dramatically, ignoring the noise the next three times that it went off in quick succession so he could admire his masterpiece now that it was finally finished.

With a grin, he sat back on his heels so he could pull his phone from his pocket even while it was still pinging with new texts. Then Peter groaned again as he read the messages he'd received, all of which were from Tony and all of which made him wish he hadn't even bothered waking up that morning.

Which, alright, that might be a little dramatic. But they were his thoughts! They could be as dramatic as he wanted them to be, thank you very much. He read through the message thread one more time to make sure that he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing, before he dropped his between his shoulders and prayed for strength. 

Ned made a questioning noise as Peter dropped his phone back into his lap, and he ignored the texts for now.

He sighed heavily, already dreading what he was about to say.

"I have to go in for a debrief," Peter explained, falling back onto the mound of blankets and pillows that Ned had set up for them.

He seriously didn’t want to go in. He wanted to spend his day with Ned, watching Star Wars and building cool shit out of Lego like a regular, nerdy teenager. He wanted to relax, especially after the fight he’d had with May. 

But Peter had learned really early on that being a superhero meant he didn’t get what he wanted. 

He could see the disappointment that Ned was trying to hide, and his heart gave a little ache. "Oh?" his friend asked, sounding nothing other than curious. 

Peter knew better. 

He took a deep breath, and pushed down the way he wanted to scream.

"From the attack yesterday. Tony is saying I have to be there this time," Peter groaned, ignoring the ding from his phone until he'd managed to pull himself up from his back. "As much I love saving people, I really prefer when I'm doing it on my own and I don't have to deal with all the intricacies that come with working with the team."

Especially with a team that he could hardly stand. Getting together with the Avengers, pardoned or not, was never his idea of a good time. The fact that they were all mooching off Tony certainly didn’t make him like them anymore. 

God, it was just always the same thing. Peter was already in a bad mood from getting into a fight with May. The last thing that he wanted to deal with today was Captain Tightass and the rest of his merry band of idiots, but Peter knew he didn’t have a choice. Despite not being a member of the Avengers, if he helped them out, then he needed to debrief with them. Maybe if he didn’t have his connection to Tony he’d be able to get out of it, ignore them, but since he was connected to Tony, Peter knew they wouldn’t leave him or his mentor alone unless he showed up. 

And since they were literally the worst ever, Peter wasn’t willing to subject either of them to dealing with the Avengers any more than they needed to. 

So yeah, he’d show up to the debrief, but he wouldn't be freaking happy about it. 

His phone pinged again, so Peter finally picked it back up. There were a few more messages from Tony that he ignored for now, but there was also a text from James asking if he needed a ride to the tower. Huh. Peter scrunched up his nose, debating with himself if it was even worth asking Ned about, but… he didn’t have his mask with him. 

Shit. He’d taken the subway here, not willing to swing after his fight with May, and that meant he’d have to take the subway there and he already didn’t want to go. 

Ah, hell. The ride to the Tower sucked, and Peter couldn’t blow it off. That much was clear when Tony sent him another text begging him to show up because the others were being insufferable. 

He shot Ned another look out of the corner of his eye and chewed on his bottom lip. Peter didn’t want to upset his best friend, but they had ended their talk about James on a hopeful note, right? Maybe this would be what his friend needed! Peter knew that, if left to his own devices, Ned would totally talk himself out of giving it a chance. 

Right. Right, this was good! 

"Would it be okay if James came to pick me up?" Peter asked quickly, watching as Ned dropped his head to stare at his hands. Silence stretched between them, long enough that Peter was about to take it back when Ned finally nodded shallowly. “You sure, dude? I can totally just swing to the tower."

Which wasn’t true, but he wasn’t going to make Ned feel like he had to let James show up. Hopeful ending or not, that wasn’t what he needed. 

Ned took a deep breath, so Peter stayed quiet and let him think.

"It's okay," Ned finally said, and Peter looked back up to find Ned watching him quietly. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but he wasn’t outright grimacing which was probably a good sign. "I… I want to see him anyway."

Heck yes! Good job, Peter! 

“Yeah?" Peter asked with a grin, knowing that his voice was leading.

They hadn't talked any more about it, both of them doing their own thing in Ned’s media room while they existed together, but it was clear that Ned had been thinking things through the entire time they'd been hanging out. Peter had been thinking about a lot of things, too (and by a lot of things, he’d really just been thinking about one big thing. A big thing that was green. And handsome. And seriously so sweet), so he hadn't minded the comfortable silence that they'd fallen into for the last few hours.

But he was glad to see that their communal thinking was paying off! 

Ned rolled his eyes at him, but he was laughing as he said, "Yeah, and get that look off your face, loser."

Peter laughed, throwing his head back as he sunk back into the comfortable nest of pillows. He shot out a quick text to let James know where to get him. A text bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared, disappeared, and then did that same dance four more times before he got a very simple “ok” in response. Since James wasn’t the biggest texter, he tried not to read too much into it. 

Besides, his mind was already too busy being upset about the fact that he had to go into the tower to worry about James’ text tone. He absolutely did not want to go and deal with an entire mission debrief, but at least he had James in his corner, which would hopefully deter Steve from scolding him when he spent the meeting talking with Tony like he usually did.

Wait, would James be in his corner? Peter hoped that he would be in his corner, since they were friends. Like friends friends, who hung out and texted and called. They hadn’t really hung out in front of the others yet, but… 

No. No, Peter wasn’t going to make any assumptions. Yes, they were friends, but Peter knew what it meant to have to compartmentalize your life. James was his friend no matter what; even if they didn’t sit together at the debrief, or James wasn’t all chummy with him in the Tower, they’d still be friends. 

Besides, he didn’t know what was going to happen. There was no point worrying about it.

"Do you want me to help you get this cleaned up?" Peter asked to distract himself, waving a hand to encompass the floor full of pillows and blankets that they'd been lying on.

There was a lot of Lego around too, and Peter could only guess how long it’d take Ned to put everything away.

"No, it's okay. I'll probably come back up here after you leave," Ned told him, lining up the last few pieces of Lego he had out in front of him into a neat line before he stood.

Peter didn’t fight it, since he knew Ned wouldn’t lie to him. And then he realized what Ned had actually said. 

"Come back up?" Peter asked, waggling his brows with a grin.

"Well, I was planning on walking you out, loser," Ned muttered under his breath with a roll of his eyes, but his cheeks tinted pink. 

Peter smiled widely, absolutely overjoyed that things between his two friends weren't lost. Sure, he hadn't heard from James about what had happened when they had their solo date, but when he thought about it, he hadn't heard from him much at all over the last few days. Maybe something had happened? Or maybe he had been thinking? Peter knew that James didn’t like texting, and maybe he hadn’t wanted to talk about it on the phone?

Fuck. Peter felt terrible for not realizing that they hadn’t really had a conversation of substance in a few days, but with everything that had been going on with patrols and school and May, it felt like he hardly had time to breathe let alone make sure he was checking in with James.

But that wasn’t fair. He’d told James that they were friends. He’d told James that he cared about him. And just because he was the newest addition to Peter’s social circle didn’t mean that he deserved to be cast aside when Peter got busy.

He made a vow to do better as he and Ned stood up. With Ned, it was easy, seeing as how they spent all day together at school. That didn’t excuse his lack of attention, though, and he'd have to put more effort in with James. 

Once he was standing, Peter dusted off his jeans as he pocketed his phone after replying to James' text that he was on his way and reassuring Tony that he was coming. He and Ned were quiet when they made their way to the entryway, and it was pretty clear that Ned was nervous. That, and there wasn't much left to talk about that they hadn't gone over already, and their shoulders bumped together as they made their way downstairs.

Not for the first time, Peter thought about how lucky he was to have Ned in his life.

Ned went to the kitchen while Peter continued to the front hall, slipping into his shoes so he'd be ready. May had always gotten mad at him when she had to wait for him when she was picking him up somewhere, so Peter was used to making sure he was ready to go before his ride even arrived. 

Plus, he really didn’t want to keep Tony waiting any longer. 

So Peter was already at the front door when James finally knocked, and he opened it with a big smile.

"Hiya," Peter said, darting forward for a quick, tight hug before James could protest. The man didn't seem to mind. He hugged Peter back just as tightly, and there was a small smile on his face as Peter pulled back. "Sorry I haven't been a great friend. Life has been crazy, but that isn’t an excuse not to check in with you.”

"S'okay, Pete," James told him with an even wider smile. There was something warm in his eyes, something that made him look even more handsome than normal. "I get it."

Peter shook his head. "Even still, I want you to know that you can always text me or call me if you need something,” he told him seriously, watching as James deflated. 

A flash of understanding lit up his face, and he probably realized that Ned had told him what happened between them. He didn’t seem upset, which was good. Peter gave him a soft smile even as he reached out and grasped his forearm to squeeze it gently.

"Thanks, Pete." James' eyes darted around the room, getting caught on something behind Peter and holding. 

His face shifted into something so gentle Peter's heart nearly broke, and he didn't have to look back to know that Ned was walking up behind him. He almost felt like he was intruding, so he let go of James’ arm and sort of shuffled to the side a little bit so he wasn’t directly in James’ line of sight.

"Hey, doll," James said quietly, and Peter turned away to give them some privacy.

"Hi, James," Ned's voice was softer than Peter had ever heard it before, and it had a different lilt to it than Peter had ever heard before. There was a rustling that sounded like James moving, and then Ned whispered, "Do you… do you want to come over, later? We can talk about what happened?"

"I'd love that," James said. There was a long stretch of silence that Peter held his breath during to not disturb the atmosphere, before James’ low voice asked, "Can I get a hug for the road, darlin'?"

Peter had to hold in a cackle of laughter at the ridiculously cheesy line, and he decided it would probably be best if he left them alone to have their hug. It wasn't a hardship to wait for James outside, especially when that meant leaving Ned and James alone inside to do… whatever it was they were going to do.

He pulled out his phone, standing on Ned’s stupidly big driveway and eyeing James’ motorcycle with suspicion. He sent a few texts to Tony about how he might not actually show up because he’d be dead, and he answered the genius’ worried response with a photo of James’ bike. 

Peter snickered when Tony complained about old age and grey hair, rolling his eyes as the texts got more and more ridiculous.

It passed the time, and it was only a few minutes before James came out of the house. The man's cheeks were flushed a dark red under his stubble, and his grin was contagious where it was stretched across his face. Peter smiled back at him, and he held out his hand for a fist bump that James returned slowly once he was close enough. 

Peter opened his mouth to tease him, but James beat him to it.

"I don't wanna hear nothin’,” James warned, waggling his finger in Peter’s face. "Don't you forget, I saw that hug between you ‘n Hulk, ‘n I saw just how much you were enjoyin’ it."

Peter gasped, faux outraged, and he shoved at James' shoulder even when the man passed by him and tossed him a bike helmet. He’d been, like, peripherally aware that James drove a motorcycle, but knowing it and being about to ride it were two very, very different things.

Oh god, was Peter about to die?

"I'm not gonna die, am I? I'm way too young and pretty to die, James!”

"Oh, can it," James muttered, not even bothering with a helmet himself and instead just straddling the bike. Peter didn't say anything, sure that the Winter Soldier had been through things far worse than a motorcycle accident, but he also strapped on his own helmet immediately. He'd probably be fine too, but it still made him feel safer. "Hop on."

"I'm coming," Peter grumbled, but he did swing his leg over the bike and wrap his arms tightly around James' stomach. 

Then he scooted even closer. He didn't even care if it was a little too close for comfort, he wasn't totally sure he was gonna live through the drive and he wasn't going to take any chances. If he had to cuddle up with James to protect his life, he’d do it.

Besides, it wasn’t like he and Ned hadn’t spent the morning cuddling. Bro cuddling was the best cuddling!

Still, he eyed the back of James’ head with suspicion. "You can drive this though, right?"

"'Course I can," James told him, before he started the engine and revved the bike loudly. 

Oh god. The machine vibrated through him, and Peter slowly grinned as the feeling washed over him. 

He liked it, he decided. He liked the way he could feel the bike in his toes, the vibration soothing as it settled over his limbs. Peter smiled wider, moving even closer to James' warmth just to be absolutely sure he wouldn't slide off during the drive, and he took a deep breath right before they kicked off the cement.

If he screamed at the first corner they took, it was only because James was not adhering to the speed limit. 

Peter took a deep breath as he clenched his hands into tight fists, digging his fingers into his palms and wishing that he didn’t have his suit on so he could feel the bite of his fingernails. He slowly blew the breath out through his nose as he tried his very best to bite his tongue and keep his mouth shut. 

His head was pounding with an anger-induced headache that didn’t feel like it was going to quit anytime soon. His jaw ticked from clenching it so tightly. Tension was built up in his shoulders, and he was sitting so stiffly that it hurt. He forced himself not to say anything, but fuck was he pissed off.

This wasn't his place. It wasn't his argument. Hell, it wasn't even his team . He didn’t work with them. He didn’t like them. He didn’t have to fucking argue with them no matter how goddamn stupid they were being.

Technically, he didn’t even have to be at this freaking debriefing!

But... it was the man he liked that they were all talking about. Not only that, but they were also talking about the man's giant green alter ego who Peter also liked, which kinda meant that they were shit-talking two people that Peter had big, inappropriate crushes on.

And, well, Peter had never been good with sitting silent when the ones he loved— liked, oh my god Peter what was wrong with you?—were being treated poorly.

And a team bashing against Hulk definitely fell under the “being treated poorly” umbrella.

Holy heck. Who knew the Avengers were such freaking bullies?

Forcing himself to take another very deep breath, Peter leaned back in his seat and narrowed his eyes, the slits of his mask doing the same with a little mechanic whir. Peter loved Karen for it, since she totally controlled what the eye sockets of his mask did. He could only hope that he looked intimidating, sitting stock-still with his hands clenched into fists that were resting on his thighs. 

He could feel the heat of James' arm from where it was thrown over the back of his chair and he could sense Tony's tension on his other side. He knew that he wasn’t the only one who was upset with what the others were spouting, and that made him feel a little bit better about being so angry.

In fact, Peter was endlessly glad that he had those two on his side. Tony was a given, of course. He liked Hulk a lot on his own, and while he certainly didn’t like Hulk like Peter liked him, they were totally friends in their own way. And that meant Peter wasn’t the only one who was mad!

In fact, even James seemed mad. His face was pinched when Peter shot a look at him, which was actually really close to the same look that Captain America had worn when James first plopped right down beside Peter. Captain America clearly hadn’t been expecting it, but Peter hadn’t either, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. 

He’d been even happier when James and Tony had nodded at each other with pleasant expressions, which had actually seemed to upset Captain America even more.  

It had been awesome.

The pinched, constipated expression on his stupid face had been hilarious, especially when it had gotten even darker when James threw an arm around the back of his chair.

But the look that was now across the Captain's face wasn't funny at all. It was full of scorn, with the way his eyebrows were pulled down low over his forehead as the footage from their most recent mission played out as a holographic projection from the centre of the table so they could all see it.

They had already watched it all the way through once, so Peter didn't bother paying attention too closely. He didn’t care what they were trying to show them all. Well he did, but not enough to watch the video all over again. 

Even though he didn’t really care, Peter still perked up when he noticed that near the end of the fight the video stopped, skipped, and then started again, only it was focused on Peter carrying Bruce onto the Quinjet.

Huh. They hadn’t gotten to that part last time, apparently. 

Peter sat up a little straighter and narrowed his eyes even further. There was absolutely nothing good that could come out of any of their mouths, and he knew it.

"We don't understand what happened here.” Black Widow was leaning casually in her seat, though she pointed towards the video feed. Her voice was silky smooth. It made Peter feel sick. "The video cuts out right before Doctor Strange managed to destroy the bots—"

Peter stopped listening as sheer rage swirled up his stomach and made his chest feel tight. They didn’t understand what happened there. They didn’t understand what happened there. No mention of Hulk’s injury. No concern about the gaping wound he’d received during the fight. Absolutely no care shown to their teammate. 

Of course none of them would have cared enough to notice. It wasn’t like Hulk had shouted so loud that the ground had literally started freaking shaking! Peter's shoulders shook with his next breath, rage making it hard to breathe, and it was only when James squeezed his shoulder tightly that he clued back into what Captain America was saying.

Unsurprisingly, it was stupid. 

“—and that footage is gone. We don't know what happened with the Hulk, only that Spider-Man carried Bruce over to us. We have asked, but we haven't gotten a straight answer yet. Tony? Do you have any updates on the missing footage?"

"Wha—hmm? Oh? Oh, the footage? Yeah, nope, don't have anything for you at all, Spangles. I really have no idea what may have happened to it. No idea at all, truly! "

Despite his mounting irritation, Peter smiled widely underneath his mask, glad that the fabric would cover his grin. He knew exactly what this footage would show considering it had happened just yesterday, and he was infinitely thankful that no one else would be able to see it. 

He wouldn’t ever want the other Avengers to watch that.

The hug he and Hulk shared felt like something private. He’d told Ned about it. He’d muttered something to James about it. Tony had clearly seen it, with the way that he was covering it up. But the others hadn’t. The ones who felt like a threat more often than not. The ones who didn’t care about Hulk. They hadn’t seen it, and Peter was so thankful for that.

He also made a note to thank Karen, since he was pretty sure it was probably her doing that got the footage erased in the first place.

He’d also have to make sure that Bruce watched it, because if there was anything that was going to convince Bruce that Hulk was a kind, gentle man, maybe the hug they shared could be it. 

"Tony, this isn't a joke.” Captain Rogers' voice was filled with scolding. It wasn’t the first time Peter had heard him talk to Tony like that, and he was sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. “You know that we need to monitor the Hulk in case its involvement on their field becomes a danger. We don’t know its level of control. Bruce doesn’t even know its level of control! That’s why it’s so important that we have ample coverage of all instances in which it's unleashed so we know if it's going to become a threat."

“Don’t talk for my Brucie-Bear, Spangles,” Tony said sharply. “We all know that Hulk isn’t the danger you’re making him out to be. Have you all forgotten what triggered Hulk’s last rampage? The only one he’s been on since he was first conceived?”

“We don’t know that he's in control, and it isn’t fair to bring that up,” Black Widow cut in. “In fact, we don’t know anything about the Hulk, do we? How are we supposed to trust something we know nothing about?”

Maybe it was because he didn’t really like Black Widow and her insistence that everything bad in the world happened because of Tony and his “ego”. Maybe it was because Peter could still remember how warm Hulk had been around him, or the way that Bruce’s fingers had felt against his forearm. Maybe it was because Peter was less and less willing to put up with the absolute bullshit that these dumbasses spouted all the damn time.

Whatever it was, Peter had had enough.

"Can we stop talking about Hulk as though he has no autonomy? He's his own person, and I know none of you have given him the chance to prove it, but he's actually really smart, and really, really compassionate!" Peter said, unable and unwilling to stay quiet any longer. 

Tony was the only one who was talking about Hulk like he was a person and not just some thing. Hell, they were talking about Hulk like he was some sort of weapon that he’d never asked to be, and Peter couldn’t sit around and let them all talk about Hulk like that any longer. 

Especially because he was the reason the footage they all seemed to want to see so badly was missing.

"The Hulk is a green rage monster that's a danger to everyone around it," Hawkeye drawled, balancing back on his chair. 

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath. Peter knew that only three of them would have heard it; Captain Rogers didn’t look over, James squeezed his shoulder, and Peter turned his head to see the way Bruce's entire face went pale under the hatred in Hawkeye’s voice. The older man’s eyes were wide, and his lips stood out starkly against his sudden pallor. 

Peter snapped. 

He stood quickly, and in one easy move, slammed a single fist down onto the large round table that took up most of the room so hard that it cracked clear down the middle and split in two. 

The movement ruined Hawkeye’s perch and he fell over, landing on his back with a wheeze. In the next breath, the entire room fell still, a deafening silence settling over the entire team. It was as if they collectively decided not to breathe, and it rang in Peter’s ears.

"You will all watch how you speak about him going forward," Peter growled, his voice darker than he'd ever heard. "Hulk isn't the only one who's a danger to everyone around them, and I don't think you want to know just how easy it would be for me to snap you in half."

"Kid—" Captain Rogers had the same reprimand in his voice that he always had with Tony, and Peter was freaking done.

"You will address me as Spider-Man or nothing else. I am not an Avenger. I have not signed the Accords. I work independently and I will help out because I choose to, not because I have to.” Peter took a deep breath and levelled Captain Rogers a glare from behind his mask. “I don't think you want to make an enemy out of me, Captain. Draw a line. Go on. It'll be interesting to see who sides with you after you ruined their lives last time, don't you think?"

The silence returned. It was even heavier than before, and no one else seemed to be brave enough to break it. Peter didn’t care. He didn’t care about any of them, and he especially didn’t care about them now. 

Peter made sure to sweep his eyes over the Avengers across from him, all people he would consider enemies if asked. He would work with them, sure, but they had hurt Tony, every single one of them, and for that Peter would never be able to forgive them. It didn't matter that Tony had tried to move on, that he let the Avengers back into his Tower and had gotten them pardoned even after everything they’d done to him.

Captain America had left him for dead, and that was something Peter would never forgive. Now, the very team that had abandoned Tony, was reprimanding Hulk for being a threat. As if they hadn’t done the most damage. As if they weren’t the ones who couldn’t be trusted when it mattered. 

Fuck, it infuriated him. All of it. All of them. The way they acted like they could do no wrong. Like they were better than others. 

They weren’t. 

Peter let out a harsh breath through his nose, considered them one last time, and then he turned his back and dismissed the team as a threat. Honestly, they weren’t one. If he really thought about it, the only one he was really worried about was Black Widow, and maybe, maybe, Ant-Man if he had his suit on him. The others? They weren't a threat, and Peter made sure it was obvious they knew he thought so.

Bruce was sitting only a few seats away, not quite on either side, but Peter was hoping that would change soon enough. It probably would, especially after today. While Bruce hadn’t been around for the “Civil War”, he’d always sided more with Tony than the others. Peter could understand why he’d sat in the middle, but by the look on Bruce’s face, that was over with.

He stopped directly in front of him, not allowing himself to wring his hands together or rub the back of his neck like he so desperately wanted to. He ignored the anxiety that was climbing up his belly and making it hard to breathe. After all, he’d just told off the Avengers. 

He could do anything. 

Peter took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

"Bruce," Peter said, his voice an entire world softer than it had been only moments before. He ignored the eyes he could feel on his back, ignored the way his awareness was pinging with threat, and refused to show any sign of weakness. "Are those blood results ready yet?"

"They are," Bruce told him in a whisper, his eyes wide as he stared up at Peter.

Peter never wanted him to look away.

"Good. C-could we look over them? Maybe?" Peter asked, feeling silly when he stuttered and hating the way his cheeks turned pink under his mask.

Thank god no one could see them, though it was probably pretty obvious he was nervous. He started tapping his fingers against his thigh, and he held in a relieved breath when Bruce nodded.

All the nerves in the world were worth it for the smile Bruce gave him, something small and private and only for them, and his heart nearly fluttered out of his freaking chest with having it directed up at him.

"I would love that," Bruce told him seriously, and Peter's face went even redder. 

Still, he smiled back. Then he realized he had his mask on, so he started nodding his head too just so Bruce would know he’d heard him and was happy. He was too caught up in Bruce's eyes to realize he needed to move back, and when the older man stood up, it put them nearly chest to chest. 

Oh my god, Peter thought, heart palpitating. 

He laughed awkwardly before he took a hasty step back, finally giving in and rubbing the back of his neck, and he gestured for Bruce to lead him from the room. Bruce smiled down at him, and he inclined his head before he started walking towards the door. Peter didn’t look back, and he left the heavy silence behind them.

Peter tore his mask off the second they were in the elevator together, slumping back against the wall and hanging his head down between his shoulders. The weight of everything that he’d just done, everything that he’d just said, hit him heavily.

He was exhausted.

He was also a little in awe of himself, because holy cow. Peter couldn't believe he'd reacted that way. As awed as he was, there was also a very hefty dose of surprise. Sure, he'd been angry. He’d been really, really angry—furious, even—at the way the Avengers were talking about Hulk, but he shouldn't have freaked out the way he had. Not only was it unprofessional—which, in fairness, they’d been pretty unprofessional, too—but he hated using his powers for such mundane things.

He’d been given these powers to protect people. Intimidating the Avengers was certainly not what his super strength was for.

Even if he had sort of been protecting Hulk.

Yeah… that was kinda a stretch.

Forcing himself out of his own head, Peter shot his gaze across the elevator for the first time. He found Bruce already watching him, a look stretched across his face that Peter didn't know what to do with. 

Bruce’s eyes were heavy. Even if they were filled with something that Peter couldn't quite make out, the weight of them was easy to feel. It felt like he was being studied by Bruce, like the older man thought that he was something that needed to be figured out. It made him want to squirm. Instead, he took a deep breath and stood still, not wanting Bruce to think that having his eyes on him made Peter uncomfortable.

They didn’t. They really, really didn’t. Peter did his best to stand tall and look back, watching Bruce the way that Bruce was watching him. The last time he’d had the chance to look at Bruce like this, Peter had been a little distracted with the way he was getting his blood taken. Since Bruce drawing his blood had resulted in Bruce’s hands on him, Peter had been a little overwhelmed. 

Without those distractions now, he was able to simply look. Bruce was handsome. Bruce was so handsome. Considering Dr. Bruce Banner had been spank bank material since Peter first started spanking, he always knew that. But there was something different now. Meeting him had shaped Peter’s attraction from something that merely existed in his fantasies into something real, something that he felt like he could touch. 

It was something that he wanted to reach out for, but he wasn’t sure how.

The silence between them dragged on. Peter had no idea what to say or how to break the heavy atmosphere that was hanging between them. He wasn’t even sure he could break it. The moment they'd shared in the conference room was lost, and left between them was a tension Peter wasn't sure how to ease.

He fiddled with his mask, running his thumb along the fabric in a soothing back and forth motion. He waited until he couldn’t wait any longer.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered. He wrapped an arm around his waist and scratched at his suit. It felt too tight, and as he waited and watched, the air felt too stale.

"What the hell for?" Bruce demanded, and Peter's eyes widened as his mouth dropped open in shock.

That hadn’t been what he was expecting. He'd never heard the man sound so… aggressive before. His voice had been sharp, like he was gearing up for a fight, and Peter didn't know what to do with it. Bruce always seemed so calm. Sure, Peter hadn’t known him for that long, but in all the tapes he’d seen of Bruce interacting with the avengers or the press, he’d been level-headed and collected. So much so that the show of emotion took Peter aback.

It was jarring compared to the last time that they had spent time together, holed away in Bruce's lab. This Bruce, who stared at him with an angry-looking frown twisting his features down, was so very different to the Bruce he’d seen then and the gentle intimacy that had twined through the moment they'd shared.

Peter didn't know how to explain exactly what he meant, but he tried to anyway. 

"I don't think you're helpless or that you can't stand up for yourself, it's just… I didn't like what they were saying. Everyone thinks that Hulk is just some mindless beast, and it isn't true!" Peter waved his hands around as he spoke, his voice rising in volume as his earlier anger reignited. "He's so much more than some—some… some green rage monster! He's smart and he's kind and he learns really, really quickly when he’s given the chance, and he listens to me when I talk to him! He understands what I ask him and he's—he's so much more than everyone seems to think he is, and I hate that they won't even try to get to know him! It isn't fair!"

"Peter…"

"I don't want to hear it from you either, mister,” Peter said firmly, putting his hands on his hips and staring Bruce down. “I know you might not think the best things about Hulk, and I get it—well, I don't get it, but I can imagine it's pretty hard having to share mind space with someone else, especially if you don't particularly get along. I don’t know what that’s like, really, but… it can’t be easy, yeah? And I do totally get things not being easy, so I know how you think about him. And I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong for feeling how you do, because that sure as heck isn’t simple, but the others are. 

“Hulk is good, Bruce, he's just never been given the opportunity to prove it. He’s never been allowed to be anything but what everyone else already thinks he is, which sure as heck isn’t much."

Once he was done, Peter slumped back against the elevator's wall, his whole body deflating as he let out a long breath through his nose. He dropped his eyes to the floor, worried that he had already revealed too much. Yeah, he had a crush on Hulk, but that didn’t change anything he was saying. Hulk was more than people gave him credit for. Peter had seen that first hand, and he was ready to go to bat against whoever he needed to.

He just hoped that Bruce wouldn’t question him about why he cared so much. He had no idea what he would say if the older man did, but it would probably be embarrassing and way too revealing.

If Peter still wasn’t totally sure how he felt about the massive crush he had on Hulk, he sure as heck wasn’t ready to tell Hulk’s alter ego about it.

The lift was silent for another long moment, no noise other than their breathing. Peter had worked himself up enough that he was panting, just a little bit, and he scratched at his side uncomfortably, itching to get to his room and change back into his clothes and out of his suit.

Wrapped up in his suit, he felt too exposed. He could still feel Bruce’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up. Not yet.

Finally, Bruce cleared his throat and said, "Look, I don't… I don't know if Hulk is more than people think he is, but you think he's more. And honestly, you've talked to him more than anyone else and he… FRIDAY showed me the footage from yesterday. I’m the one who asked her to delete it, which is why Tony was covering for me. I-I know that it would help prove his case, but… I didn’t want the others to see it. He was so gentle with you. 

“I still don't remember everything that happens when he takes over, but I've been getting bits and pieces, little glimpses of memories and they all… they're all about you, Peter." 

Peter flushed darkly, suddenly wishing for his mask as he ducked his head in hopes of hiding the ridiculous, love-sick smile that had taken over his face. He couldn’t push it down, and as Bruce’s words echoed over and over in his ears, he felt his face go warm. The fluttering in his heart and overwhelming warmth in his chest was definitely a sign that his crush on Hulk was real, and not something he was going to be getting over any time soon.

Ah, shit. 

"He cares about you," Bruce told him plainly, and when Peter looked up, the man's face was tinted pink. Well, at least he wasn't the only one blushing. Bruce's face did something complicated before settling into an expression that Peter didn't recognize but wanted to see more of. "I care about you as well," Bruce told him, his voice quiet but steady. "I'm glad that if Hulk has a… friend, that it’s you."

Peter ducked his head in a useless attempt to hide his worsening blush. His entire face must have been red, he knew, and the love-sick smile he was wearing only grew wider. He had to physically restrain himself from jumping with joy, and he knew he was so far gone it wasn't even funny. 

Hulk liked him. Heck, it sounded like even Bruce liked him. They cared about him, both of them, which was already more than Peter ever expected to have. Sure, it may have been platonic, but it was real now. It wasn’t him trying to convince himself that Bruce wanted to see him. It wasn’t him imagining Hulk picking him up with care. 

They cared about him! 

Thankfully, before he could say something soul-crushingly embarrassing, the doors slid open with a pleasant ding and Peter paid a silent thank you to FRIDAY.

She had the best timing. 

Peter forced himself to take a deep breath, calm down, and then say something that wasn’t totally overbearing and weird. 

"Thank you, Bruce. I'm glad that I'm his friend, too," Peter told him, doing his best to make it sound as honest as possible and not let the little bead of disappointment slip into his voice as he spoke.

He was glad to be Hulk's friend, and it absolutely did not matter whatsoever if he possibly wanted to be more. With both of them. Nope, they cared about him, and Peter was letting that knowledge carry him through any disappointment he may have felt at the possible platonic state of their relationship.

Bruce nodded his head. His own smile looked a little silly, and Peter felt proud for putting it there. 

"Well, here we are," Bruce said as the doors slid open, waving a hand at his floor. 

Peter snorted kindly, giving him a wide smile.

"Do you actually mind if I just go get changed quickly?" Peter asked, rubbing his hip again. "The suit isn't exactly the best for hanging out in."

Bruce's face did something, but then he was smiling as well. "Sure. I'll go ahead to the lab and get those samples out, yeah?"

"Okay," Peter told him, his eyes slipping down to watch his ass as he stepped out of the elevator before snapping back to his face guiltily. "I'll be quick!"

"Don't rush. It'll take me a bit to set up anyway, so take your time."

Peter nodded, giving him another smile as the doors slid shut.

Peter rushed himself through a really quick shower. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to shower, exactly, but when he got up to his room and stepped out of his suit, something had urged him to step into his bathroom and quickly clean himself off. He'd kept his hair out of the water in one of the little caps Tony kept in the bathroom, and he used whatever overly expensive body wash was inside the stall without the guilt that usually came when he took advantage of the luxuries Tony made available for him.

He told himself multiple times that it wasn't a date, but that didn't stop the nervous excitement that had started building inside his chest the second the elevator doors closed.

When he got dressed, he made sure to carefully pick out the jeans that Tony had gotten for him a few months ago. They fit like they were tailored to him—which they probably were, considering it was from Tony—and an MIT hoodie that he felt comfortable in. The pants would look good (really good, Peter admitted to himself as he looked at his butt in the mirror), but the sweater would help ease some of the anxiety that was mixing with the nerves in his chest.

He tried to do something with his hair, but gave up and did his best to tuck the curls away from his face, desperately needing a haircut. When he looked as good as he was going to get, he took a really, really deep breath before he forced himself out of his room.

The elevator ride was nerve-wracking. Really nerve-wracking.

As much as Peter reminded himself that it wasn't a date and that all they were doing was reviewing his blood work, it felt like so much more. The way that Bruce had looked at him in the elevator, the way he’d told him that both he and Hulk cared for him? 

It felt like something more. The last time it had just been them… well, Peter hadn’t ever gotten his blood taken before, but he was pretty sure having blood drawn didn’t usually include intense eye contact and earth-shattering finger touches.

No. No, it definitely hadn't felt like simple blood work, and the conversation they'd had after leaving the debrief had been even more intense in some ways. No matter what he tried to think about to get his mind off it, the way Bruce had told him that he cared about him repeating over and over in his head.

So much so that his cheeks started to flush just from the memory alone. Ugh, get it together, Parker!

The elevator dinged, and Peter's heart leapt up into his throat. He wiped his hands off on his jeans, tucking them into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that they were sorta shaking. They weren’t shaking a lot, but there was, like, a fine tremor running through them that he couldn't stop no matter how many deep breaths he took or zen thoughts he focused on.

God, he could save the world, but he couldn't handle being alone with the man he had a crush on? He was Spider-Man! This was nothing! He could totally handle spending time with Bruce, alone, in his lab, the same lab that they'd shared a… well, Peter certainly wanted to call it a moment, but would Bruce think it was a moment?

Oh god, what if he was the only one who thought it was a moment? What if Bruce didn’t think anything of it at all? What if he—

The elevator doors started to close again.

Oh no. Pushing himself forward, Peter stepped out of the elevator before his thoughts could spiral any deeper. It was only a short walk to the lab, but one he spent gnawing on his bottom lip as he picked at the skin around his fingers—two nervous habits he was constantly trying to kick. Clearly his nerves had disregarded the pep talk he’d given them, and he took a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to calm him down before finally stepping up to the lab.

When he finally looked up from the floor and took in the lab, his breath caught in his throat as he stared, struck dumb by what was in front of him.

Holy crap. Holy crap, what… 

One of the lab tables was covered in a white table cloth that was lined with lace, adorned by two tall candles that were burning despite the lab's lights being on. There were glasses filled with what he assumed to be water, with plates and utensils set up in front of two stools that had been placed around one of the tables' corners.

Peter blinked, blinked again, then he closed his eyes and counted to thirty and—it was all still there. Nothing changed, not even when he lightly pinched the back of his hand.

His heart rate kicked up, beating so loudly it was all he could hear echoing in his ears as his fingers went numb. He finally remembered to breathe, sucking in a sharp breath that didn't change what he was seeing, but did ease the sudden burning in his lungs. What… 

God, what was going on? He walked closer, taking everything in with wide, awed eyes and trying to stop himself from hoping it meant what it wanted to.

It couldn’t, right? Maybe… maybe Bruce had someone else in the lab earlier? Maybe he’d arranged a date, but it hadn’t been with him. Maybe there was another reason that the lab was so decorated?

Footsteps sounded out, and Peter turned to find Bruce walking in behind him.

"Oh, hi," Bruce said, his glasses slipping down his nose as he put a steaming container down on the cloth-covered table. It brought them close together, but Peter felt too dumbstruck to move.

Bruce had obviously gone and changed as well, since he was now dressed in fitted slacks and a dress shirt that was such a pale purple it was nearly white, but looked absolutely gorgeous on his tanned skin. Peter's heart climbed even further up his throat, making it so Peter could barely breathe as his eyes raked up and down Bruce's frame, helpless to do anything but stare stupidly.

When his brain finally started moving again, there was only one thing he could think to say.

"You look really good!" he blurted, loudly, cursing his lack of filter even as he flushed darkly. But then Bruce blushed too, a stain of pink high on his cheeks, and it gave him the confidence to add, "Like, really good."

"Thank you, Peter," Bruce told him softly, his lips curving into a smile so soft it made Peter's heart ache.

They were still standing close together. Peter wasn’t even sure he was alive.

He beamed up at him, bouncing on the balls of his toes, and he found the strength to ask, "What's all this?"

"I wasn't sure when the last time you ate was, but it's dinner time and I had some stuff in the fridge and I thought… well, actually, now I’m not so sure what I was thinking. I-It was silly." Bruce ducked his head, his shoulders curving forward as he stared down at the ground with a look on his face that made Peter's heart twist painfully.

Nope. Nope, there was no way Bruce was going to look like that after he’d gotten dinner for them!

"No, Bruce," Peter said quickly, all but leaping forward to erase the last bit of space between them. He wrapped a gentle hand around Bruce's forearm, and shuffled further into his space. "I don't think it's silly at all." He smiled shyly at the man in front of him, taking a deep breath to build enough courage to say, "Thank you. This is really, really sweet."

Bruce's face flushed even darker, and the way his lips curled into a smile was enough to give Peter just the littlest bit more confidence, and he raised himself onto his toes so he could press a kiss to Bruce's cheek, lingering so he could feel the tug of stubble against his upper lip. He breathed heavily through his nose before he settled back on the balls of his feet.

When he pulled back enough to look up, Bruce's face was so red it was almost funny, and Peter had to hold himself back from fist-bumping in pure glee.

His crush blushing because Peter had kissed him on the cheek was totally a good sign, right?

Thinking about that would only lead to another thought spiral, so Peter pushed that thought out of his mind. Instead, he hopped onto one of the stools Bruce had set out, tugging the container of steaming food a bit closer. It smelt good, spicy and rich, and Peter groaned loudly while he took another deep breath. 

Oh god, he was hungry.

Bruce tripped over his stool, and Peter immediately reached out to steady him with a hand on his chest. Only, then he had a hand on Bruce’s chest, and he got distracted by the way he could feel the warmth of Bruce's skin, and he didn't pull his hand away for an awkwardly long time, his thumb tracing little circles into the silky fabric of Bruce's shirt.

It was very soft, and Bruce was very warm, but the minute what he was doing set it, he snatched his back and forced a very unconvincing laugh.

Then he turned to the food.

"What's this?" Peter asked quickly, going ahead and getting himself a very hefty serving in an attempt to ignore the fact that he'd totally just groped Bruce and Bruce had stood there while he did. 

He hadn’t even protested! 

Bruce shuffled into his own stool, and Peter totally did him a solid and didn’t call him out for the way he kinda tripped again, only this time he tripped onto his stool. He cleared his throat loudly, and when Peter shot his eyes up at him, he looked a little embarrassed. 

So Peter kicked his foot under the table, gently, and shot him a little smile before he started serving Bruce, too, since he was sorta just sitting there.

He hadn't been particularly hungry before, but now that the aroma of food had sunk into his senses, he was starving.

"It’s just sausage and rice," Bruce told him, smiling as he got onto his own stool. Their knees knocked together, and Peter forced himself to keep his where it was. Bruce did the same, and their knees kept in contact even as he placed the container of food on the table. "I'm not too much of a cook, but I've lived all over. There aren't always places to go get food from, so I had to learn to make some things just to survive."

"That's cool! I’m not really much of a cook myself, but I can make a few really simple things. My Aunt is even worse," Peter told him, scooping a forkful and shoving it into his mouth. 

Despite the heat, flavour exploded in his mouth and he moaned, closing his eyes as he savoured the spicy richness that burst onto his tongue when he bit into a chunk of smoky sausage. Oh my god, that was so good. 

He swallowed, wiping his tongue over his teeth before finally opening his eyes from where they’d fallen closed. Bruce was staring at him, his own eyes dark and his gaze heavy, and Peter shivered even as he stuttered out, "I-It's really good."

"Thank you," Bruce told him, and his voice was rougher than Peter had ever heard it before. It rumbled out of his chest in a way that made him feel a little lightheaded. For a moment, green began to line his eyes as he made a rumbling noise like a purr, before he took a deep breath and seemed to calm down. "I appreciate that a lot."

Peter flushed. He flushed really darkly, and he ignored the warm arousal swirling around his belly, caused by the loss of control and the knowledge that it was him who had caused the Hulk to peek out. It made him smile down at his bowl of food even as his cock twitched in his pants. God, he was so gone on those two it was stupid.

Sitting in Bruce’s personal lab, eating food that Bruce had cooked at a table covered in a table cloth, beside Bruce who had gotten dressed up, Peter realized that he was gone. There would never be anyone else for him, he was sure about it.

They ate quietly for a few minutes. Peter kept looking up to find Bruce already watching him, and his heart started racing every time it happened. 

“So, I have those blood work results,” Bruce told him after clearing his throat. Bruce was mostly done, but Peter was happily scarfing down his second serving. Peter smiled at him gratefully, glad that they could still talk even with the tension threatened between them. “And I think you’ll be interested in some of it.”

Peter nodded quickly, pushing away whatever inappropriate thoughts were still lingering, and focused on what Bruce was telling him.

The rest of it could wait. Now that Peter was absolutely certain about what he wanted—and pretty close to certain that Bruce wanted it to—there was no reason to rush. For now, he’d enjoy dinner, learn about his mutation, and bask in Bruce’s warm, steady presence.