Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It would be as though you never existed.”

Peter took a breath. “I know. Do it.”

He hugged his friends, said his goodbyes and they watched as everyone disappeared. Back to their home worlds. As Peter stood upon that ledge, ready to leave his friends once and for all, it happened. He began to disappear. Dr. Strange was sending him away. 

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t how it’s supposed to happen. He was supposed to make them forget. Not send him away. Not get rid of him.

Peter was weightless. He was drifting, the wind rushing all around him. He was peaceful.

Then, he opened his eyes.

Peter was falling. Crashing, hurtling towards the ground at dangerous speeds. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know if he would survive. A fall this high in the air, at this speed. Even with his strength and durability, he didn’t know. Was he going to die?

He flung himself around in the air, turning for his stomach to face the ground. Where was he? He still had his suit and his webs. No mask. He just needed to find something to stop his fall. Something to attach his webs to.

There was nothing. One big building; a mansion really. Trees too far away, grass, and a cement pathway he was hurtling towards. The mansion was too far, he wouldn’t be able to hit it with his webs. Everything was too far away. Well, besides the ground, but to be honest, cement isn’t sounding too fun right now.

In simple terms, he was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

Peter flipped himself back around, letting his back face the ground. He curled up, doing his best to brace himself for the impact. He took deep breaths. If I’m going to die, at least I said goodbye. At least I have no one left to lose. The thoughts of his Aunt May brings a tear down his cheek, but the wind quickly wipes it away, erasing the evidence. He just hopes whoever finds his body isn’t completely traumatized.

With that, Peter hits the ground. He immediately blacks out to the sounds of the cement breaking and his bones crushing. 

Damian was enjoying his day. It was the weekend, so he didn’t have to go to that hell his family referred to as “school” and he could spend his time with his pets. He was walking his dog Titus around the manor grounds. Key word: was.

Damian was walking when he stumbled upon a man. A boy really. He couldn’t be much younger than Timothy. He was wearing a strange outfit. One that was eerily similar to his family’s when they fought crime.

Damian drew his precious katana. This boy was a trespasser after all. No matter his condition, he was infringing on his home. Such an act could not be tolerated. Yet despite that, he still sent Titus to go retrieve someone from inside the home. The boy looked, to put it nicely, dead.

Damian checked his pulse. It was there, barely. Then he pointed his katana at the intruder's neck.

Peter didn’t know where he was, but he didn’t like it. Everything hurt. He tried to move, but the action was so excruciating. He let out a groan and stopped trying. 

Now, Peter liked to believe that he had a higher pain tolerance than most. He had gotten hurt so often as Spiderman that pain wasn’t a new thing for him. This was new.

Peter’s no doctor, but he thinks he might be dying. When you fall from such a great height in the air onto straight cement, then breaking that cement because you were falling so fast, well… That’s no good thing. Peter has many, many broken bones, and he thinks he’s bleeding somewhere. Then add on top of everything the injuries he’d gotten during the fight back home. Well yeah, he might be dying. His enhanced healing just doesn’t seem to cut it right now.

Also, could that person who’s kicking him please stop. That hurts and he wants to go back to sleep.

“Wake up intruder.”

Hold up, intruder? Now that just won’t do. Peter here is no intruder. He’s just decided this is a great spot to die peacefully and unbothered. But apparently he was wrong, because this person won’t leave him alone.

Peter opens his eyes and he must be hallucinating, because the first thing he notices is a sword pointed at his throat and a literal child holding the sword. The kicking stops, so Peter figures it must have been the kid. He’s so confused. Why is there a literal child trying to kill him when he’s already kinda dead.

He goes to speak. “What the fuck?” Along with his words, blood seeps from his mouth. Well double fuck. That’s definitely not good. Peter thinks he’s screwed. The kid may as well stab him now. Make it quick. It couldn’t hurt worse than his current condition.

“Damian!”

Well, if he didn’t say that, and the kid in front of him didn’t say that, then that means another person’s coming to join the party. Whoopee! Hooray! Let’s see who can kill Peter the quickest, because Dr. Strange seems to have done a wonderful job here. Honestly, Peter’s betting his money on the Dr. 

Peter soon discovers the owner of the other voice. It’s a kid around his age, with black hair, blue eyes, and oh look! He’s normal. No sword in sight.

“Damian, what the fuck. Put away your stupid sword.”

Thanks man. Peter was thinking the same thing.

“Drake, this is an intruder.”

Peter decides it’s his turn to speak. “Woahhhh.” He coughs up some more blood, having to pause his sentence. The new kid looks concerned. “Cool name. Like the rapper.”

The two kids just stare at him. Not amused. Okay, well maybe Drake doesn’t exist in this world. 

“Damian, he’s hurt, we need to help him.”

Peter agrees. Definitely help him. He’s in a lot of pain at the moment.

The little one, who Peter assumes is Damian, puts his sword away. 

Drake - 1, Damian - 0.

Immediately Drake kneels down to help Peter. 

“What’s your name?”

Peter considers lying. He is still in his Spider-Man suit after all, but he figures who cares. I mean he’s in a completely different universe, they’ve seen his face, and for reasons he still can’t figure out, he fell from the sky.

“Peter.” He croaks out.

“Okay, okay. Peter, you’re gonna be okay.”

Peter just laughs, blood coming up with the action. Well if he hasn’t died yet, his healing has probably already kicked in. Nevertheless, Peter can see the black creeping across his vision. 

“Well if I’m gonna die, at least I’m dying in the arms of a famous rapper.”

With that, Peter passes out once more.

Chapter Text

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

If Peter has to endure another second of that horrendous noise, he might actually join the dark side. Screw him, his morals, and his stupid enhanced hearing. 

He opens his eyes and immediately regrets it, closing them again. You know what, curse his enhanced sight too. 

Oftentimes when Peter gets hurt, especially when he’s badly hurt, his enhanced senses feel too enhanced. Usually he’s dialed to like a 9, but right now he’s reaching a 15 going on 20. His senses overload him on days like this, and usually his best bet is to wait it out, submerged in the quiet darkness of his room, but apparently that's not an option because that stupid beeping won’t stop. And at this rate, he’s gonna get permanent damage to his ears or something because holy shit that’s loud.

Before he can attempt to turn off the noise, Peter takes stock of himself. He’s no longer in his Spider-Man suit, instead a t-shirt and some sweatpants. I’m putting that on the list of Problems For Later. He doesn’t know where he is, but the last he remembers is the pain and those two other people. Granted, he’s still in a lot of pain. Most of his bones are still broken, so he can’t have been out for too long. His enhanced healing usually targets the most crucial areas first, ensuring he doesn’t, well, die. But most of his injuries should be healed within a couple days. 

Deciding to bear the pain, Peter begins to push himself up, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out. He keeps his eyes closed, not wanting the light to hurt his eyes again. He can tell he’s in some sort of bed, and he feels the IV’s attached to his arm. He rips those out. Surely whatever was being pumped into him was doing nothing. He needs a lot more of everything than the average human. 

He slowly moves himself to the edge of the bed, and leans down so his toes are on the ground. He takes deep breaths, slowly, and despite the pain, begins to stand. This time he can’t keep back the cry of pain and he collapses to the floor. So, maybe standing wasn’t his best idea.

Peter doesn’t know how long he lays there, curled on the floor in pain. But the next thing he knows there are hands lightly touching his broken arms and a faint voice trying to speak to him. Even the faint touch is too much. He cries out in pain and tries to move away. This only hurts him further and he can’t help the tears falling from his face.

Through the pain he makes out a few words. “...are…okay…gonna…help…you…on the…”

He feels the arms move to wrap under his back and legs. He winces in pain, trying to move away from this person. Despite his attempts, the person lifts him into the air. Peter lets out a cry of pain, the man’s actions putting pressure on his injuries. The man then walks over and lays him gently on the bed.

Great. He’s in even more pain now and he didn’t even fix that stupid beeping sound.

The haze that had settled over Peter from his little excursion has begun to lift, and he blinks the blurriness from his eyes to see the figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

This man, he has not met yet. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and appears to be in his 20’s. The man has a soft smile on his face as he looks at Peter. 

Peter squints at his surroundings, trying to figure out where he is despite the bright lights shining in his eyes. He’s in what appears to be a room, twice as big as his own at home. A home he’s beginning to think he may never see again. Peter pushes the thought from his head as his eyes land on a heart monitor near the bed. With the location of that despicable noise finally determined, he once again moves to go turn it off, deciding to bear the pain than having to listen to that for another second. Though, a hand on his chest stops him from going anywhere, gently pushing him back into the bed. 

“You’ve gotta rest. You’re in pretty bad shape.”

Peter laughs, it turns into a cough. The sound grates on his ears. “Yeah. I’ve noticed.” They both laugh this time. “But hey, could you turn that off.”

The man grimaces. “Sorry, no can do. We’ve got to keep it on to make sure you’re alright.”

Peter sighs. To tell the truth, to not tell the truth. Eh, fuck it.

“Look, it’s just, the sound is a little overwhelming right now and it’s really hurting my ears. Also I’ll probably try to get up again if you don’t turn it off.”

Peter then adds a “Please?” with a small smile for good measure.

The man sighs and goes to turn it off, noticing Peter squinting, he hits the light-switch as well. As they’re submerged in complete darkness, Peter slumps back into the bed and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

Having a conversation seems much less taxing than it did before and as the man sits back on the bed he asks him a question. “So what’s your name then?  I already met Damian and Drake.”

The man looks confused. “Drake? Oh, you mean Tim.”

Okay, so apparently he wasn’t dying in the arms of a rapper. That’s fine I guess.

“My name’s Dick Grayson.”

Peter holds back his laugh. That is an unfortunate name.

Despite the pain he holds out his hand. “Peter. Peter Parker.”

He’s awaiting a handshake, but it never comes. Okay, that’s a little rude, but maybe the guy’s just not a fan of handshakes. He withdraws his hand. That’s when he realizes the guy probably can’t see his hand in the dark. He laughs silently.

“So, where exactly am I?”

“Well, what do you remember?”

Peter decides he can maybe share only part of the story on this one. Because saying, Oh yeah a magic, doctor, wizard dude who was supposed to erase everyone’s memory of me ever existing decided he wanted a career change as a comedian because he sent me to a separate universe instead as some big cosmic joke. Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to not tell the whole truth.

So Peter goes with, “Falling.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. This might have to be added to my Peter Parker’s Traumatic Experiences list. “And eating mad shit. Like who knew concrete was so painful.” Yeah and Dr. Strange couldn’t have at least decided to let me fall on the grass.

Dick does a low whistle. “Okay, no offense, but you should be dead. How did you survive that?”

Peter stays silent. He doesn’t know if he wants to share his powers. I mean obviously they’ve got to have some clue. A normal human can’t just fall from the sky and walk away healthy. Not that he’s healthy, but he’s certainly not dead. Still, he doesn’t really know these people. 

He must have been silent for too long, because Dick speaks again. “Look, you don’t have to tell me that, just get some rest. You’re safe here.” At that he leaves the room and Peter drifts off back to sleep. 

Chapter Text

“May. May. May, please. Please. Just wake up, please.”

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Peter wakes up with a gasp. He can’t breathe. Ben, May, it’s all his fault. He can’t breathe. It’s his fault. It's all his fault. Everything’s his fault. He’s shaking. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Distantly he realizes someone’s talking to him, their steady hand holding his shaking one. Peter mumbles their names under his breath. “Ben. May. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Someone’s shouting now. A name. Dick? 

Suddenly a new hand appears, holding the one not already occupied. “Hey Peter, Pete, come on take a deep breath for me. You’re okay. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’ve got it. Just match my breaths.”

Peter tries. He really does. He copies the older man’s breaths the best he can, and eventually he can breathe again. Eventually everything’s not so suffocating.

The hand that doesn’t belong to Dick lets go and he stands to leave. “I’m gonna… I’ll go.”

“Wait!” Peter shouts. Wincing he lowers his volume. “Can you…um…you can stay. If you want.” He squeaks out the last part. He doesn’t want this stranger to leave. For some reason his presence is comforting.

“Yeah, alright.” The man gives a weak smile and sits back down. 

Peter examines him. He’s much bigger than anyone he’s met yet and he has brown hair with a white streak down the middle.

“Sorry about that, but um, thank you… for helping.”

“Don’t apologize.” Peter closes his mouth with an audible click. 

“What this idiot is trying to say,” Dick starts, “is that it’s not your fault Pete. You had a panic attack and we’re happy to help you out.”

Peter looks down at his lap “Thanks.” He looks up to the man he hasn’t met yet. “I’m Peter by the way.”

The man laughs. It sounds more like a grunt really. “Yeah. I know. Nobody’s shut up about you these past few days. I’m Jason.”

Peter doesn’t respond. His mind reeling once again. Days? He’s been out for days? Peter takes stock of himself. Most of the major broken bones are healed. Only smaller ones remain: his wrists, fingers, an ankle, a rib here and there. His body is a little sore and stiff, but other than that he’s mostly healed. He assumes he’ll be fully functioning within the next day or two.

Peter decides to ignore the part where Jason mentioned they were talking about him. “How long have I been out?” He asks.

“Around two days.”

Peter’s mouth drops in shock. Okay. While not ideal, it’s not the worst thing to happen. His body probably just needed time for him to heal and decided it’d be better for him to not be awake for it.

Peter moves to stand and get out of the bed. He needs to get out of here. He needs to leave. He needs a way back home. While he’s not physically restrained this time, the two men protest. 

“Woah Pete, slow down. You still gotta heal.” says Dick.

Peter just shakes his head no in response.

“Nah man. I’m fine. Just a few broken bones. Nothing really.”

Jason speaks this time. “Okay first off, what the fuck? You literally carved a human shaped crater in cement, so no way you’re ‘fine’.” Peter winces at the mention of the damage he’s done. “Second, a few broken bones isn’t nothing, so lay down before I make you lay down. And third, how do you only have ‘a few broken bones’? Last time I checked there were more than a few.”

Peter looks up into the man’s eyes, refusing to respond. Not having the energy to lie and search for an excuse. Jason looks back. All is silent until Peter decides to take his chances with the angry guy and he keeps moving off the bed, “You’re gonna hurt a poor, defenseless, and severely hurt kid? That’s a special kind of low Jason.”

Dick laughs out of surprise while Jason scoffs, “I probably couldn’t do more damage than you’ve already done.”

Suddenly Peter’s angry. He knows he messed up. He knows it’s his fault. He’s hurt everyone he’s ever loved before. He lost everyone he’s cared about. He decided to wipe everyone's entire memory of him, including the only people he had left, to save the multiverse. But no, Peter did not choose to come here. Peter did not willingly decide he wanted to fall from the sky and be so scared. To be terrified, really, that he was gonna die. And now he has to live with the fact that he might never see his friends again. And this guy, who he doesn’t even know is threatening him; making it sound like he’s blaming him.

“Fuck you man. I just about have had the worst week of my life. So, if you could stop with the anger and the threats for a couple minutes that’d be fantastic.”

Jason doesn’t say a word. He nods. The smallest tilt of his head, and Peter notices a clearness that returns to his eyes. 

Peter continues his escape from this room and leans his feet on the ground. He goes to stand, holding back a cry of pain. It still hurts, but it’s more bearable than when he tried to get up the other day.  

“At least let me help you.” Dick stands and moves to wrap his arm around Peter. Which honestly he’s secretly grateful for since standing seems to be no fun. Jason moves to his other side and together they hobble out of the room and down the stairs. 

While Peter knew he had fallen out of the sky in front of a mansion, he hadn’t fully understood the sheer magnitude of the house. Peter has never lived in something so large before. You could probably fit hundreds of his small apartment in this house.

He makes it to the kitchen in no time with his newly acquired human crutches and they lead him to a chair to sit.

He smiles. “Thanks.”

Dick sits down in the chair next to him, “No problem.” 

Jason just nods as he walks to the kitchen. “You hungry?” He asks.

Peter nods. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

He interrupts before Peter can get the chance to apologize, “I’m making pancakes.”

When Jason begins to make breakfast, Peter turns to face Dick and finds the man already staring back at him curiously.

Awkwardly, Peter smiles, trying to diffuse the tension.

“So…” Peter begins. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

Dick nodded enthusiastically. “Where do you come from?”

Peter held his lips together in a grimace. “Um…Earth?”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure…that I’m from Earth?” Dick nods. “ I mean… last time I checked, yeah.” Suddenly he’s hit with a realization. “You don’t think I’m some kind of alien do you?”

At that moment, another member, of what Peter assumes to be some kind of family, decides to grace them with his presence. Oh it’s Drake. Now known as: Tim, ex-rapper.

Tim counts on his fingers as he speaks, “You fell from the sky and somehow didn’t die. Your clothes are weird. Most of your injuries are already healed. Your blood looks weird.”

“Wait. Hold on. You looked at my blood?” 

At that the family looks slightly guilty. Peter continues, “You know what, I have some questions of my own. Where am I? Who are all of you? Why do you casually own hospital equipment? On that note, why didn’t you just send me to a hospital? That’s suspicious. And where are my clothes?” Peter decides to leave out the question about how their house has bats living under it, because that would give away his super hearing, and also, wtf, why are there bats?

Tim continues, “That’s not important.” He sits down at the table, in the seat across from Peter. Tim doesn’t say anything more. Neither does anyone. Tim just stares at Peter like he’s trying to find something, to figure him out. Peter uncomfortably stares back.

The silence is suddenly overwhelming; stifling. “Does he do this a lot?” Peter asks.

Jason, walking back to the table with a plate of pancakes responds. “All the time.”

Chapter Text

Peter is hungry. Extremely so. He has decided to forgo getting answers to his questions and rather shove a concerning amount of food in his mouth. He is eating those pancakes so fast he’s genuinely concerned for his own wellbeing. He’s also pointedly ignoring the concerned looks he’s being thrown by everyone around him.

Someone clears their throat and it’s like a spell is broken, his strings cut, and he stops eating to look up at the three men, who now look extremely concerned and slightly ashamed at their previous interrogation.

“Sorry.” Peter says, not really meaning it and only slightly ashamed. 

“Hey no worries man.” Dick begins.

Peter interrupts, “so like, I know your names and all, but like, who actually are you? And is this a kidnapping?” 

Dick goes to respond, but Jason interrupts, “What makes you ask that?”

“Well, you didn’t take me to a hospital, which is something normal people would’ve done; and I’ve been kidnapped before so I know how it goes. Honestly this is a little nicer than I’m used to.”

Dick’s jaw drops. 

Peter ignores it, continuing. “I mean you gave me pancakes. This is definitely like in my top 10 kidnapping experiences.”

“Look kid,” 

“Not a kid.” Peter says harshly. The sting of Tony still fresh in his mind, even after all this time.

Jason ignores him. “We haven't kidnapped you. If you want to go you can, but…”

“Oh sweet!” Peter says as he shoots up from his seat, beginning to leave.

He’s stopped by a firm, almost bruising grip on his arm. “Let me finish. But, I think you owe us an explanation. So sit down and start talking.”

Now Peter gets it, okay. He understands he’s a stranger and two days ago he played a lame game of chicken with their concrete. But, he would be lying if he said he wanted to happily answer their questions right now. So he does what he does best and gives very cryptic answers just to mess with them.

“Do you want the whole life story or…”

He drifts off at their unamused expressions. “Okayyy.” He claps his hands and sits back down.

You got this Peter! You’re only about to spill your guts to some strangers who have probably kidnapped you. No biggie. Peter is calm and collected.

“Well… this dude tricked me, framed me for murder, and decided to play pretend as John Quinones ‘What Would You Do’ broadcasting the whole thing live for the world. Next thing you know I’m playing 20 questions with a wizard and boom new universe.”

Okay, Peter understands that might not have made any sense, but it does to him so it’s fine really. Nobody speaks for a while after that.

Chapter Text

“…”

“…”

“…”

“You’re not from Gotham are you?”

“…”

“I thought we’d made that clear already from the ‘other universe’ thing.”

Now Peter's no geography mastermind but he's pretty sure last time he checked some place called Gotham didn't exist. So either he's dumb, they are lying, or…or he really is in another universe, and if that's the case he's completely and utterly screwed. 

While Peter had assumed he was in a new universe, the reality of such is just now sinking in. The reality of never seeing his friends again. Not that he had much left for him back there. But he doesn’t know if he could handle never seeing Ned or MJ again.

The air turned somber, the reality of Peter’s situation settling like a weight on his shoulders. The three brothers pick up on the mood change instantly.

“Look,” Dick starts, “We want to help you. Just can you explain how you got here, to help us understand?”

Peter takes a deep breath and nods. “So there was this guy. He framed me for his murder and broadcasted it to the entire world. My reputation was ruined and by association my friend’s too. And man, we all just wanted to go to college, but nobody would accept us and it was my fault, so I went to our friendly neighborhood wizard. I asked him to make everyone forget who I was.” Peter laughs at this. “But I fucked up. I wanted my friends and family to remember and it got too complicated and everything went downhill. I tried to fix it. I really did. In the end, the only way to fix things was by erasing me, but apparently the wizard sent me here instead. I don’t know.” Peter looked down, his eyes getting wet. He quickly wiped away the tears before they could fall.

The brothers were all looking at him with pity. “Look man,” Tim said, “we’re gonna try and help you get back home.”

Peter laughs. “No offense guys, but like you’re normal people. I don’t know how you’d do that.”

Dick, Tim, and Jason all exchange a look, communicating silently. Dick sighs. “Peter,”

“B is gonna be pissed.” At this, Dick sends Jason a glare.

“We are actually vigilantes. We have ties to the hero community and could contact some of our magic users to see if they can help.”

Holy shit. What the… Now Peter very much believes in Parker luck. I mean he literally lost everyone he’s loved and got sent to a separate universe, but right now he’s feeling pretty lucky. Out of all the places he lands, he happens to fall on the literal doorstep of a house full of vigilantes. 

“Bro, that’s sic! What are all your names? Do you guys have powers?” Peter’s buzzing with excitement. 

“Um.” Dick goes nervously, “Let’s just bring you to the cave first.” 

Cave? Peter’s mind is racing with questions.

They stand and Peter goes to follow. They walk past large rooms, through hallways, and Peter is once again struck with just how big this house is. They reach a study and stalk straight over to the big grandfather clock. The broken? grandfather clock. Weird.

Tim begins to fiddle with the hands of the clock, moving them to a new time. Super, secret, hidden lair. Yeah this is one of the coolest days of my life. Peter is suddenly staring at a staircase. The brothers walk in and Peter follows and fuck its cold down here . 

In no time, Peter and his little troupe stand behind a broad shouldered man sitting at a big computer. He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t acknowledge their presence, so absorbed in his work. 

Peter is shivering. 

Like the man can sense his discomfort, he spins around in his lil chair to face him and his sons? Peter notices a flash of surprise cross his face at his presence, then a more serious and disappointed look. 

“Boys.” He says, leveling the full force of his ‘very intimidating’ glare on the three brothers. Peter may or may not take a step backwards.

While the weird little family argues about him, Peter takes a look around and oh wow that’s a dinosaur.

Voicing his thoughts out loud, Peter says, “so that’s why I could hear bats.”

The room… no, the cave goes quiet, and Peter slowly turns to face the other people. 

“You could hear that.”

Peter winces. Oh yeahhhh. They don’t know about his lil super powers. Whoops.

He figures at this point he might as well tell them.

“So yeah, I may be a mutant” Peter bristled at the term SHIELD like to label people like Peter with.

The reminder that everyone will always see him as different or weird. That they’ll hate him for something he had no control over.

“Mutant?” Tim asks. 

“Yeah, I’m enhanced. I have powers.”

“Oh, here we call them metas.”

Metas. Huh. Anyways, “oh.” Peter continues with a nod. “Back home, I’m also a vigilante. That’s why you found me wearing a suit. My name’s Spider-man. With a hyphen. The hyphen’s important.”

Tim speaks unders his breath, too quite for anyone but Peter to catch. “Everything makes so much more sense.” 

“Okay Spiderman, what kind of powers do you have?” Jason asks.

“Okay wait, but you said my name there and it didn’t sound like you said it with the hyphen. It’s not spiderman; it’s Spider-man.”

They are all staring at him. Peter shifts on his feet awkwardly. “The hyphen is important guys.”

Big, grumpy, man sighs and turns back to his desk. “I’m calling Constantine.”

Chapter Text

“Um, whose Constantine?”

Jason grins at him, teeth and all, “You’ll see.”

Peter’s eyes go wide. What does that even MEAN?!? This family is so creepy. Willfully deciding to ignore this and just hope for the best, Peter forgets he even asked and doesn’t mention it again. 

“So, on a different note,” Peter compliments himself on his smooth conversation skills. Like, did you see that change of conversation. So smooth. “can I go see the dinosaur?”

Big man, who just got of the phone says, “No.”

Now woah there big guy. Hold up. You can’t just own a freaking dinosaur and not let your guests go look at it. That’s just plain rude if you ask him. So, putting his persuasion skills to the test Peter says, “please?” With a big bright smile. Who could say no to this face? Certainly not big guy.

“Fine.”

Peter may or may not squeal. Internally of course. Peter attaches a web to the dinosaur and zips to it, trying to stifle his excitement. At his quick movement he hears the family gasp. He throws them a grin. 

Peter crawls around to the front of the dinosaur, landing at the top of its nose. Making sure he sticks his feet to the surface, he bends forward to look down into the dinosaur's mouth. “Cool!” he whispers.

“Hey, Peter!”

Peter falls forward in surprise, catching himself by sticking his hand to the bottom of the dinosaur’s jaw.

“Sorry.” The same voice says sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” He responds.

Attaching a web to the dinosaur’s mouth, he suspends himself upside down, and propels downwards, dropping like a spider to be face to face with the three brothers again. Sword kid and big guy are nowhere to be found. 

Peter discovers it was Tim, ex-rapper, – Peter almost sheds a tear at that – who had called out to him. He also notices how the kid holds one of his webs in his hands, the shiny, silk-like material draped over his palms. 

“Dude, what is this stuff?”

Peter smiles proudly. “Those are my webs.”

At that, Tim drops them immediately.

“Man, they aren't poisonous or anything. Perfectly friendly and safe.”

Tim still stands there in horror, his eyes burning holes into his palms. “These didn’t come out of you did they?”

Peter actually burst out laughing at that; letting go of his web and collapsing on the floor. The brothers stare at him unamused.

“Sorry, sorry.” Peter says as he stands, not all that apologetic. Oh that felt good. Haven’t laughed like that in forever. He really needed that laugh. “No, they don’t come out of me, which honestly I’m really glad, because I have met some spiders like that and it doesn’t look that fun.”

The brothers all stare at him in shock.

“Now when you say you’ve met spiders like that, do you mean literal spiders, or are there more of you?” Jason asks.

Peter just laughs. “Both actually. I can talk to spiders, but there are actually more of 'me'. A whole society really. I met them once. Too bad they didn’t give me one of their dimension travel thingies. That would have been really helpful.” Peter’s tone takes on a more somber tone. He really has to find a way back home. Who knows what could be happening to his city right now. People rely on him.

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that.” Dick says with a laugh.

Peter gives him a weak smile. He misses his spider friends. He saw Peter 2 and 3, but its been so long since he’s seen Miles or Gwen.

With his mind no longer distracted or occupied with happy thoughts, the cold he was ignoring earlier, quickly seeps back in, settling in his bones. He tries to suppress the oncoming shivers, his teeth clicking quietly.

Jason notices. “Hey Pete, you cold?”

He wraps his arms around himself and nods.

“Weird,” Tim says, “the temperature shouldn’t be too low.”

Peter shakes his head. “Yeah, but,” he stutters out, “the spider in me kinda takes on the temperature of my environment. All that cold-blooded stuff.”

Peter sees the silent awe on Tim’s face. 

Suddenly a very large sweatshirt is thrown in his face. It settles on his head and he huffs a silent laugh before he pulls it off. Peter hides his shock as he now notices a previously sweatshirtted Jason now standing before him very much unsweatshirtted. Giving Jason a small smile, he pulls it over his head. “Thanks.”

Jason just grunts in acknowledgement, and the brothers + Peter make their way back to the big computer, where they find big guy, sword kid, and a man in a trenchcoat? Peter’s day has officially gotten weirder. 

Trenchcoat guy stares at Peter. It feels like he’s not looking at him, but at him. Almost like he can sense something that's invisible to everyone else.

After a solid, very uncomfortable 30 seconds, the guy finally speaks.

“What the fuck.” he says to no one in particular as he pulls out and lights a cigarette.

Finally, finally, he is introduced by big guy. “Peter, this is Constantine, he’s a wizard and we’re hoping he can help you get back home.

At that the trenchcoat guy laughs. Either that’s bad timing, or he’s laughing at the ‘Peter gets home’ part. Which is starting to make him a little nervous. 

“First of all,” he takes several more drags of his cigarette, before throwing it on the floor and extinguishing it with his foot. “I’m a sorcerer. And second, he’s not getting home.”

Peter’s ears are ringing. He doesn’t think he heard Mr. Constantine right, because he thinks he just said that he’s not getting home. But that can’t be the case. His city needs him. His friends need him. His friends who don’t remember who he is.

“Sorry,” Peter croaks out, “what?”

Constantine coughs roughly before speaking. “Look kid,” he sighs, “in simple terms, you can’t go back to your universe, because there is nothing tying you there.”

“Yeah and in not so simple terms?”

“You’ve essentially been wiped from your universe. When Strange cast the spell, he not only erased the world’s memory of Peter Parker, but Spider-man too, and therefore erased all ties you had to your universe. Your universe rejected your being and flung you to the first place it found without a pre-existing Spiderling or Peter Parker. And, even if I could somehow locate your original universe, because of Strange’s spell, it would reject your very essence.”

Peter stumbles. He falls to his knees, his legs giving out beneath him. He’s officially stuck. Trapped forever in a different universe. He’ll never see his friends again, MJ or Ned. He’ll never see his family, Matt, Wade, Johnny, or Miles. Peter is overcome with such a strong wave of grief that he cries out, sobs escaping him as he curls into himself. He’s lost everything. Everyone. He truly has nothing left.

The Batcave is usually quiet. But now, the cave walls are consumed by the overwhelming grief of one 17 year-old Peter Parker as he cries for all he has lost. 

Chapter Text

Peter doesn’t remember what happens next. He just knows he wakes up in a room somewhere and he grieves. He grieves for Aunt May. For his friends, his family really. He grieves for the world he knew, and the one he can never go back to.

The family tries to comfort him. Jason sits with him silently, sometimes reading. Dick and Damian bring him food. Tim tries to talk to him about everything and nothing. The big guy, who he learns is named Bruce, checks in on him when he thinks Peter’s asleep. They do their best really, and Peter’s thankful, he truly is, but he is submerged in this all encompassing grief and he just can’t seem to find his way out.

 The days pass by in a blur, days without leaving his guest bed in the manor, barely eating, barely sleeping. Time passes quickly. Days go by. Weeks maybe. Peter doesn’t keep track. 

But… then he has these thoughts, these ideas. Spider-man doesn’t quit. He doesn’t give up. No, Peter Parker doesn’t give up. Won’t give up, he refuses. The world’s tried their hardest to put him down and they haven’t succeeded yet, so why let them. Peter always comes out stronger in the end.

Can I move on?  

Would his family want him to move on? To at least try to be happy? He doesn’t know. Of course they’d want him home. He wants to go home. But he thinks maybe. Just maybe, they’d want him to try to be happy too.

Slowly he starts to resurface. To climb out of his all encompassing grief. He responds to Tim, engaging in conversation. He listens to Jason when he reads, providing commentary. He invites Dick or Damian to eat with him. He stops pretending to be asleep when Bruce checks on him, allowing the big guy to just sit with him, through his tears and screams and so much frustration and grief. And it’s all so weird at first. Different than what he’s used to. For all that he sees his friends back home as his family, for all he loved Aunt May and Uncle Ben, and he really loved them, so much, he’s never really had a family that feels like this. So big and smothering. He’s never truly alone here, and he feels guilty admitting it, but sometimes he’ll catch himself feeling safe and comforted.

Peter begins to reintegrate into day to day life. He interacts more with this make-shift family. But…but there’s always just this inkling of grief, settled like a weight on his shoulders. He does his best to ignore it. To push it away. He’s had his time to grieve. But, it doesn’t really go away, and at the end of each day, he curls up in his room and cries himself to sleep. Maybe one day he’ll feel okay again. But, for now, he settles with the weight, almost crushing, but easier to carry with the help of his new family. His new brothers. And Bruce, not his dad. He can’t curse him like that. But he’s a parent-like figure and Peter thinks he’s beginning to be okay with that.

Gradually Peter starts to smile, to laugh. He knows he won’t ever stop missing his home. Missing his life, but he thinks maybe it’s okay for him to be happy here too.

And, despite all the pain and uncertainty, Peter knows one thing for sure. This city needs a Spider-man. He needs Spider-man.

Chapter Text

The Wayne family doesn’t know much about what happened to Peter. They knew he was a 17 year-old meta who somehow got sent to another universe. They knew he was a 17 year-old child who lost everything.

They do their best. What else is there to do? Each member of the family pitches in. They all care for Peter, having connected with him only over a few days of his stay here. 

But…For the first time in years, Bruce feels utterly helpless. He doesn’t know how to help Peter. How to fix it. And he’s so angry that he can’t just fix it. He hasn’t felt this helpless in a while.

So he does what he can and checks in on Peter.

—

Dick is intimately familiar with grief. Old friends you could say. With his parents, Jason. He knows what it’s like to lose and the pain that comes after. He can’t say he can even begin to understand what Peter’s going through. In all honesty he’s not going to try either. But he knows one thing for sure. He’s going to be there for Peter to help pull him out when he’s ready. 

So he grabs Damian, tries to help Alfred cook, and brings Peter food. He always found a home-cooked meal to be comforting. 

At first they just sit there, waiting, hoping they can get him to eat anything. Sometimes they don’t stay for long, sometimes Damian will leave and Dick will sit there for hours. Hoping Peter understands he’s not alone. Dick doesn’t want him to ever feel alone again.

—

Grayson is acting strange. His entire family truthfully. But Grayson keeps bringing him to the intruder’s guest bedroom, and he doesn’t understand. Damian is confused by his family’s actions, but he does not admit it.

Over time, Damian begins to leave earlier, and Richard stays longer. One night, Damian’s curiosity gets the better of him. He sneaks out of his bedroom and comes to a stop in front of the intruder’s door. 

He hears a scream coming from within. It sounds like he’s in pain. Opening the door, Damian finds the intruder with his hands in his hair, tears on his cheeks, sobs from his mouth. What Damian thought was a scream being a cry of grief, pain. Damian stands in the doorway frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, just… watching, but eventually Father finds him and ushers him back to his room, leaving to return to Peter.

Damian doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night, but he thinks he understands now.

—

Tim knows what it’s like to be alone. Lonely. Tim wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Tim knows what loss is. He’s familiar with the pain, the rage that comes after. He knows what it’s like to feel helpless and frustrated beyond belief. So Tim sits with Peter. Maybe it’s out of some messed up sense of pity, maybe. Maybe it’s because he cares. He thinks it’s the latter. Regardless, Tim sits with Peter. He talks with Peter. And he listens. To the pain, the anger. To the frustration and helplessness. He talks and talks until Peter tells him to go away. But he talks nonetheless, and he tries his best to help.

—

Jason is… well, he’s pretty familiar with death. They’re best friends at this point. But he knows grief pretty well too. Some messed up version of grieving for his past self or a future he’ll never know, but grief nonetheless. He knows what it’s like to lose everything and how hard it is to restart after. So he tries to help. To give Peter what he never had.

He sits with Peter, silently at first. But then he begins to read. He reads his favorites, classics obviously. He reads, and reads, and eventually Peter starts to respond. Despite Peter thinking his taste is “shit” (which btw classics are amazing so ur wrong actually Peter) he provides commentary. Jason continues to read classics out of spite, but he’s secretly grateful for Peter’s interactions. Of course it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. He has bad days. Honestly most of his days are bad days, but there are good days. And after everything this kid’s gone through, which they still don’t even know the full extent of, he’s doing remarkably well. The kid is strong. And so, Jason has hope. Hope that he can make it through, no matter how long it takes.

—

As Peter gradually begins to get better, Bruce is attacked by his two eldest. 

“So you’re adopting him right?” Jason says.

Bruce sighs as his sons make themselves comfortable in his office.

“Jason, you know it’s not that simple.”

“B, it couldn’t be more simple.” Jason says angrily.

“Look, I know you want me to… I want to adopt him, but now is not the time. Peter is grieving, he’s lost everything, and he could have family, parents back home that he’s not ready to let go of.”

Dick and Jason stay silent at that. Of course, Bruce is right. Although Peter’s getting better, it’s up to him and he still needs time.

Through the silence, the three men hear a voice call out from upstairs.

“Orphan actually!” they only catch the end of his sentence as Peter yells, “twice!”

Jason and Dick burst out laughing, while Bruce just sighs, a small smile on his face.

“I guess super hearing can be added to the list of potential powers,” says Dick.

While his sons leave his office, Bruce’s smile goes with them, and he sits back in his chair, trying to soothe his oncoming migraine. 

Peter has lost more than he thought.

—

Although Peter’s improving, he has dark days. Really bad days. Such is one day, when Bruce finds himself with Peter, holding his hand as he cries.

“Breathe Peter, match my breath.” He pulls Peter’s hand to his chest and inhales deeply, repeating the motion several times. After a while, Peter starts to calm down.

“There you go, you’ll be okay.”

“I…” Peter begins, fresh tears falling down his face. “I cant… I can’t lose again. You’re, you can’t care for me, please. Please don’t. I can’t…” He breaks off with a sob.

Bruce thinks his heart broke a little that day.

Of course not everyday is like that, and over time, Peter does start to get better. Good days become more frequent than bad. And Bruce notices a change in the boy. A new determination behind those big brown eyes. And Bruce knows, he’ll be okay. Eventually, he’ll make it out. Not fully. He won’t ever fully leave behind his grief, but eventually he’ll live with it better. Have a semblance of closure. Someday…

It’s four weeks after this revelation when Peter asks to go back to being spider-man. And Bruce, although hesitant, is inclined to let him. 

He tells Peter everything he needs to know, including his own identity along with his children’s. He gives him everything he’d need. He offers to make Peter a new suit as well, and while hesitant at first, after a few days of consideration, he agrees.

Peter keeps his old suit, Bruce doesn’t know where, but he knows better than to ask. And eventually, his new suit is complete, a darker blue, almost black, with a darker red to match. Outfitted with everything Peter might need. He kept the spider symbol, but added a bat of his own encased within the body of the spider.

When Bruce shows Peter the suit, he immediately breaks down. But instead of sobs, there are laughs, as tears roll down his cheeks.

Bruce asks what’s wrong and he gets a name in reply. “Miles,” he says. “It reminds me of Miles.”

Peter’s smile is sad, but he puts on the suit anyway. This time, his laugh is happier, reminiscent. “I think he would’ve loved this. 

And although Peter knows he may not ever see Miles again, or any of his other make-shift family, he knows for certain now that they’d want him to be happy the best way he can. He knows he won’t ever forget them, but he… he can try to be happy here too. And he is… happy. Better now at least. And he thinks maybe he’s found a family of his own. 

The Bats and the Spider. Right here, right now. In Gotham City.

Chapter Text

The first few weeks of Peter going out as Spider-Man, he is accompanied by members of the Batfamily. 

His first night was relatively calm, with Dick accompanying him. They flew around for a while, but eventually ended up snacking on a rooftop somewhere since the night was slow. 

“The circus! Really?” Peter exclaimed, taking another bite of his Bat Burger. 

“Yeah, uh…” Dick says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “It was really great. We would travel all over the place and I just loved trapeze. It was…freeing you know?”

Peter nodded quickly, swallowing down the rest of his burger. “Yeah,” he says, a soft smile on his face. “I do. I really do.”

The next time Peter goes out as Spider-Man, he’s accompanied by Red Robin.

“You’re joking right?”

“No!” Tim laughs.

“How do you not have a Red Robin here? You’re Red Robin! You need to eat at a Red Robin! The meme potential is unlimited! I mean, come on! It’s hard to even say your name without the Yum!”

“Stop! Stop!” Tim says laughing, “I can’t breathe!” 

Peter too dissolves into giggles.

Eventually, Peter is allowed to go patrol on his own, but sometimes he finds himself missing his makeshift family. Sometimes he’ll purposefully run into his brothers just to get some company. 

“Robin!” Peter shouts, coming to swing in line with Damian. The kid does not look his way. “Little Dude! Baby Batman! Lil Rob!” At this he finally turns to look at Peter. 

“Intruder what…”

Peter interrupts him before he can finish, inwardly apologizing to May for his manners. “Intruder? We’re still on that lil Rob! I thought we’d bonded!”

Decidingly ignoring Peter, Damian continues, “Why are you here?”

“Wow! So quick to get rid of me!” He gasps, placing his free hand against his heart. “I’m offended. So deeply hurt. You’ve shown me your true colors little dude. I thought we were friends.” Peter sniffles, pretending to shed tears and pretends he doesn’t notice the slight upwards tilt to Damian’s mouth. 

They continue swinging side by side. Peter continues his act. “I can’t stand this betrayal. The horror! How could you…” Dodge. What? Why would he…

Falling. He’s falling. How could he? But he was just… with Damian. But now he’s… Falling. He’s hurtling towards the ground at fast speeds and there’s nothing. He can’t do anything. Why can’t he… 

“Er-man… Peter!”

Damian’s voice breaks through the haze and he’s transported back to the present. He’s falling, yes. He’s getting closer to the ground, yes. But it’s not like before. Damian is hurtling towards him too, falling. Trying his best to get closer to Peter, trying to catch him? He won’t make it. Peter knows. Damian knows. But he has his webs. And he’s not alone anymore. The buildings surround and enclose upon him like a safety net.

He attaches a web to Damian’s chest, flinging himself closer to the boy and wrapping his arm around his waist. He then shoots a web to the side of a building and swings the two back into motion. And…and this close, Peter can see the fear. The desperation so clearly wrought on Damian’s face. Damian who’s had years of experience perfecting his mask, but years of breaking it down too and Damian, who tries so hard to never show what he’s feeling, is so clearly distraught and…and scared. The guilt hits him like a brick wall and he swings the two onto a nearby rooftop. 

Damian wrenches himself out of Peter’s grip and shoves Peter away from him. And, it’s not quite anger but something deeper. Frightened. Peter can tell. He can read it in his face, in the way his fists continuously clench and unclench. In the way he looks at Peter but won’t quite meet his eyes.

“How could you…why did you?” And he sounds so confused and scared and Peter thinks why did he fall? What made him fall? And now he feels the sharp pain embedded in his side and Damian now notices it too. Locks eyes with it, and he’s not looking away, and Peter knows it’s bad. Can feel the sharp burning pain that he recognizes and associates with getting shot and…

Protect. Dodge.

And… this time he listens. Recognizes the distinct hum and whisper of his sixth sense. 

He sprints to Damian, tackling the boy to the ground, rolling, and they’re close enough to the edge that Peter purposefully rolls off it. With a distinct feeling of falling, Damian sucks in a sharp breath and Peter… this time he doesn’t freeze. This time, he doesn’t let himself slip away, forces himself to remain here and now. He webs them into motion again, moving as fast as he can to get as far away as he can because his neck is tingling, vibrating really, and he’s hurting and the feeling of danger danger danger is so loud and clear in his ears. So he swings and he ignores Damian’s confusion and searches and searches for somewhere. Anywhere that is safe .

And it’s… there. A tall building with a door leading to something that his sense undeniably recognizes as safe . So he brings them to the building, stumbling on the landing, drags Damian, who’s protests have died down, trusting Peter, to the door on the roof. Throwing it open and rushing inside. The door closes. Peter webs it shut, just in case, and he slumps to the ground, gripping his side, leaving a trail of blood on the wall, on the stairs the door led to. But it’s okay because his sense has gone quiet, the silence echoing a safe safe safe in Peter’s head. And Damian is safe. Damian is okay. So Peter is okay. Peter can now rest, because they’re safe and he’s tired. So tired.

But apparently Damian won’t let him rest because he shakes Peter’s shoulders, slaps his cheek to keep him awake saying, “Parker don’t close your eyes.” Which Peter thinks is a really weird way of saying thank you for saving his life, but Peter can also hear the undercurrent of nervousness and fear and for Gotham’s sake why does he care so much, but it’s Damian. His little buddy, who Peter knows, will deny it, but he’s gotten really close with. Peter’s never had siblings, but if he did, he’d think he’d like Damian to be one of them, so he opens his eyes and grunts, pushing himself up the wall and offers up his hand to his little brother. His brave little brother whose mask is always so strong and unbreakable, who, around Peter, feels like maybe it doesn’t have to be so unbreakable, and Damian takes his hand and together they make their way down the stairs. Peter, following the buzz at the back of his neck, letting it lead them where it wants to go. And each step down is another echo of safety. 

And Peter doesn’t know how long it takes. Not long, he thinks, but eventually they stop in front of a door. And safety sings in his heart and bounces around his head despite the blood and despite the fear, so he knocks. And it takes a second, maybe two, but the door swings open and Peter finds himself face to face with green eyes and brown and white hair. Peter smiles and Jason sighs, scanning his little brothers, stopping at the sight of so much blood, and he pulls his little brothers inside his apartment.

The door snaps closed behind them and it’s like Peter can think clearly for the first time in hours, when it’s really been only minutes, and the pain blazing through his side finally catches up with him and he stumbles. But an arm reaches out and catches him, firm and steady, but so safe, so Peter just slumps into Jason’s hold. And now Jason is the only thing holding him up and Damian is standing by the door staring so intensely at Peter and…

“What the fuck.” the words come from Jason, sharp and Peter can recognize the fear masked by anger. And he just feels so safe . So he closes his eyes, knowing he’s safe, knowing he’ll wake up to his…to his family. And things will be okay.

Chapter Text

When Peter wakes up it’s slow and groggy. He immediately recognizes the pain blooming in his side, although slightly more muted than before, his healing already working overtime. Slowly, he blinks open his eyes to a dim room, one he doesn’t quite recognize. The scene of books and papers littered on every surface. Coffee stains on the table and the smell of good food permeating the air. With a deep breath he attempts to sit up, pushing his hands behind him to leverage himself forward. A hand on his chest stops him from making it too far, gently pushing him back onto what he now realizes is a couch. His eyes follow the hand up to its owner where he meets the eyes of his older brother who has a grim smile on his face. Peter returns the smile, clearing his throat before attempting to speak. “Hey Jason.” His voice is weak, scratchy even. 

Jason releases his hold on Peter and sits on the edge of the couch near him. “Hey Pete, how're you feeling?”

Peter lets out a quiet laugh. “Better than ever.” 

Jason too laughs and Peter smiles in return. He moves to again push himself up, slapping away Jason’s hand when he moves to stop him.

“It’s fine.” Peter breathes. “I’m fine.” 

Jason sighs. “Just…don’t push yourself.”

“How long?” Peter asks, glancing around the room in search of a familiar face, and… there. Peter finds Damian slumped against the far wall near the kitchen, fast asleep, in a new set of clothes (Jason must have started keeping some of their sizes), and a blanket draped over his lap.

“A couple hours.” 

He groans. At least he didn’t lose days this time. 

He swings his legs over the edge of the couch and scoots to be closer to Jason, leaning his head on his shoulder. Jason reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Peter smiles gently.

“I’m okay.”

Jason doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. Instead they sit in the silence together, breathing in deeply the safety…the closeness. 

“Thank you.” Peter speaks again. Barely louder than a whisper this time, but Jason hears it. Peter knows he does.

Later, after Peter got some good food in him, he decides it’s time to leave. He’s ready to get back to the manor. Get back ho… Not quite home yet, but almost he thinks. He walks over to Damian, crouching down in front of him and gently shakes him awake. “Lil Rob it's time to leave.”

Damian wakes silently, blearily blinking open his eyes, rubbing them to get the blurriness to leave. Upon seeing Peter he launches himself into his arms. Peter catches him, holding his head and allowing him this comfort. It’s barely a second before Damian wrenches himself free and shoves himself up and away from Peter. 

“I assume Alfred has arrived.”

Peter nods, grabbing their stuff, and with a nod and quick thanks to Jason, they leave the apartment and head to the car Alfred brought. 

“Thanks Alfie.” Peter says, climbing into the backseat of the car. Damian climbs in next to him, leaving the front seat empty. Huh. 

“Anytime Master Peter.”

Settling into the ride, Peter notices Damian is more quiet than usual, and although he sits in the back, he sits far from Peter. Reaching his hand out, Peter leaves it palm up on the seat. Damian notices the action, moving his gaze from the window to stare intensely at Peter’s hand. He doesn’t move to take it. Barely moves; barely breathes. That’s okay though. Peter can wait.

Barely a minute later, Peter doesn’t react when Damian gently interlaces their hands together, just lets out a small smile and squeezes his hand slightly. 

“I’m okay.” Peter says, having this conversation for the second time today.

Damian doesn’t look at him, barely reacts, but Peter notices the slight twitch of his mouth, wanting to curl downwards.

“I’m okay.” 

Damian turns away from him, looking out the window, but he doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Dami, look at me.”

It takes a second, but eventually he does.

“I’m okay.”

And Peter notices the slight glisten to his eyes, barely there tears that Damian refuses to shed. 

“We’re okay.”

And this time he believes him.

When they get back to the manor, Peter immediately heads to the cave, searching for Bruce, for answers. 

It’s warmer this time, the Bats having altered the temperature to fit Peter’s needs.

He assumes Jason informed him of the situation. He is quickly proven right when he finds Bruce at the Batcomputer (holy Gotham that name is ridiculous – he loves it). Upon seeing Peter, Bruce reaches a hand out to him, Peter takes it, smiling at the reassuring squeeze Bruce sends him. A couple months into his stay in Gotham, Peter discovered his aversion to hugs. He can handle them in small doses, but most of the time they are too overwhelming. Most of the time they remind him of his time before Gotham. Other times they remind him of… well, other times he feels trapped, a familiar and very unwelcome feeling. So, they have resorted to hand holding, it’s grounding and reassuring. It’s not as suffocating.

“Anything?” The question is simple. Nothing more than a word, yet Bruce understands. Peter knew he would.

Sinking further into his chair with a sigh, he shakes his head, squeezing Peter’s hand reassuringly. Peter notices the darkness under his eyes. The barely there downturn to his lips. 

“Yes.” It’s barely spoken. Quiet and quick. Peter reacts immediately, tensing minutely then quickly moving to pull up a chair next to Bruce. Wheeling his way into Bruce’s space, his eyes darting back and forth. 

“Show me.” His eyes flash with an unrecognizable emotion. A command. More forceful than he’s used to speaking as Peter. As Spider-man even. 

Bruce wheels backwards, leaving the screens of the Batcomputer so they are in full view of Peter. His eyes rapidly dart back and forth, absorbing large amounts of information in such a small amount of time. A name is the first thing he sees, followed by colors, images, flashes of orange and black. 

Wilson. Slade.

mercenary, assassin.

Peter skips the rest. His mind moving a mile a minute, eyes darting between information on the screens, not really taking anything in. Only comprehending Wilson, Wilson, assassin. His spider sense a constant hum of dangerous, dangerous, dangerous the more he reads.

“I asked Tim.” Bruce begins. Refusing to continue until Peter looks at him, looks away from this screen with this awful information. Looks away from this horrible situation because why Peter. Why does it have to always be Peter. He was just getting settled. He was just starting to get comfortable with them. To settle in. To find a home. But this…he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he can do this alone…again. But, he’s not. Alone he means. He has the Bats, and they are so willing to help him. Peter turns to look at Bruce.

“We think…” he sighs. “We think he’s sending a message.

Peter’s eyes widened, his hand ghosting over the wound, almost healed, barely there. And even though it’s almost gone, even though the pain is barely there… he remembers that pain, hot and sharp. He remembers the… the fear and overwhelming feeling of panic. All of this, for a…a message.

And suddenly, there’s the anger. Flashing behind his eyes, he fights to push it away, lock it in a box and bury it deep, six feet under where no one can find it and dig it up.

Breathe.

Yes, little sense, so helpful, thank you.

“What kind of message?” His tone is dark, dangerously toeing the line between panic and anger.

“Deathstroke is…complicated. He is a highly skilled mercenary. If he wanted to hurt you, he would have.”

“He shot me!” Peter practically yells, anger rising up his throat.

“I didn’t mean… I meant, he would have aimed for a more fatal spot. We think he has taken an interest in you. This was just your first contact with him. We are worried he might try again. So I’ll be…” He stops, taking notice of Peter’s hand, raised in the air.

“Just…give me a minute. Please.”

First contact. Bruce thinks he’ll come back. He thinks this Deathstroke guy is going to attack him again, to try to contact him. He breathes deeply. Ready. His spider sense whispers. Not again.

He nods in agreement. Next time he’ll be ready. Next time he won’t make the same mistake again.