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Peter focused on breathing through his nose as the medicine started to spread, leaving him with a painful and searing feeling at the end of his left leg- what was left of it. It felt like he was burning from the inside out, his cells multiplying rapidly as Bruce’s modified serum accelerated his healing process- and he watched as his muscles stitched itself back together over the slowly extending bone.
Bruce held his leg firmly by the knee, encouraging him to stay still while the process worked. The weight of his hand was grounding, and Peter tried to focus on that instead of how his shinbone was making crackling sounds as it grew. Peter was having a hard time breathing, growing a limb this fast was only getting more and more painful- and Peter started to regret not just walking out of the venue with one limb and dealing with the consequences of that later.
“You’re doing good, Peter.” Peter didn’t bother responding, his jaw tightly clamped, his teeth grinding together.
Several minutes later when the burning feeling died down, his healing factor took over and wrapped up the pain relatively quickly. Peter slumped, falling entirely back onto the floor and sighing in relief. Bruce had jerked to try and catch him at first, but Peter was already lying down so Bruce just let him stay there.
With his mind returning to him, he wondered how long Bruce had been walking around with the serum waiting for Peter to be nearly dead enough to use it.
He felt better now, at least. His leg felt tingly, but not painful, and other than the bone-deep weariness, he now felt normal and wasn’t worried about the serum giving him any unexpected side effects.
”How’s the pain?” Bruce had released his leg a bit ago, and Peter opened his eyes to find him looking over him carefully, his face neutral but eyes worried. He let Bruce scrutinize him as took stock of himself. He still felt like he had run a marathon. He was sweating, and his heart was still thudding aggressively in his chest.
“Better.” He had to pause when his voice came out scratchy from his dry throat. He cleared it, and attempted lifting his new leg a little. “In one piece again, at least. Thanks- for whatever that was.” Peter gestured to the vial- now empty- that lay strewn besides them. Bruce collected it and slipped it back into his pouch, then stood and extended a hand to help him up which Peter gratefully took.
“One piece is all I ask for.” Peter wobbled on his new leg, now upright enough to fully feel the difference. It felt lighter- less muscled. Looking down Peter could kind of tell the difference between their sizes, it looked a little odd.
“Yeah, well, glad you don’t expect too much.” He took a tentative step, and leaned on Bruce when his ankle strained under the full weight of him- but didn’t collapse.
Ever the planner, Bruce was already thinking ahead for Peter. “We should get to the car without trouble- everyone will be focused on the front. The boys are meeting us at the car. If anyone see’s us you have a fracture and we’re getting you medical help.”
“No I don’t want to pretend to wear a cast- make it a sprain.” Peter let Bruce guide him through the corridors of the venue back to the front of the building where they had been enjoying the party only an hour ago.
“A fall with proper fall technique and I can probably get away with a sprain. It’ll be easier to explain for when I’m walking fine in a day or two.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, like his plan was flimsy.
“Fine, three or four days." Peter amended. "But no more than four- I’m going swimming on Saturday and I need my foot for that.”
”The instances in which you got that ‘proper fall technique’ is something we can’t flaunt.” Bruce was shaking his head slightly, relating this to the conversation he has had with Damian many, many times. “If anyone asks you about those techniques you’re using or where you trained after assuming you’re a gymnast-“
”I am a gymnast.” Peter butt in.
Bruce didn’t miss a beat in response to Peter’s complaint. “I know, but you can’t credit vigilantism while in civilian clothes, Peter.”
”No, I mean I am a gymnast. Like, an actual gymnast.” Bruce turned from where he was scanning the lot for his four children and their car.
”You said you were a scientist.” Peter tilted his head.
”Yeah? Well, no, I guess. Not anymore. Science is more of a hobby these days, and I mainly only work on Spider-Man stuff. Chemistry mostly. But yeah, I’d been a gymnast for four years before everything happened. The powers just help- a lot.” Peter paused to catch his breath after Bruce helped him down a large flight of steps. While his leg wasn’t dying, he still was exhausted and weak feeling. It was a big flight of stairs, ok!
”Anyway, it should be on my official record that I copied over here, so no worries if anyone grills me about it.”
”Hm.” Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Peter turned away from Bruce to smile at Tim, who had captured their attention by waving them down as the first to see their approach.
“Keep that chemist thing in mind too. It’s been a while since I had lab access for anything other than my web fluid and I’ve got some projects I think you’d like to look at.”
”What about projects?” Ever the curious hound, Tim questioned Peter the second he was within range, and his voice caught the attention of the three other Wayne’s who turned in response to greet them both.
“Long story- later,” Peter waved him off and pried himself from Bruce’s arm to muscle open the back door of the limo the four were standing around, and collapse onto the seats into the back. He groaned in relief at the squishy seats, the strain on his body finally being reduced as he was allowed back off his feet.
“I need a bed and a warm glass of milk before I do anything.”
”Need a cane too? Or a walker?” Jason ducked in after Peter, shoving his legs to the side gracelessly to give himself more room to crawl in. He paused a moment when Peter cried out in surprise, pulling his legs back towards him as they proved to still hurt a little more than he thought they would.
“Jesus- you good gramps? Didn’t pop a hip did’ya?” Peter shook off the pain relatively easily and scooted himself further into the car to let the rest of the Wayne’s pile in, Dick being next and looking concerned having heard Peter and Jason talk.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Peter waved them off and Bruce shut the door behind him as the last one in, taking a seat two seats down beside Jason. “Just ran into a small problem while you guys hogged all the fun, sprained my ankle. All healed now though, don’t worry.”
”We’re still doing x-rays and blood tests when we return. I’ll call Dr. Thompkins if something healed improperly.” Bruce glanced up at Peter as he spoke, voice firm but not uncaring in a way that had Peter groaning, accepting he would not be able to get out of at least an hour of tedious lab work and medical checkups he didn’t need.
“Bloodwork too? For a sprained ankle?” Peter glanced down at his leg, flexing it a little. Maybe bloodwork was a good idea- he did grow a whole new leg in under ten minutes. That was kinda freaky.
“No, his lower leg was caught in an explosion,” all four of the boy’s eyes minus Peter snapped to Bruce as he talked, “and we field-tested the healing serum from Barry. I want to make sure there isn’t any residual medicine poisoning him, and made sure his cells grew back his leg properly.” He moved his attention to Peter. “You may need physical therapy.”
“Grew back his leg?” Dick asked incredulously, glancing between Bruce’s nonchalant expression and Peter’s slightly embarrassed one, tucking his bare leg behind the one he hadn’t regrown today. “You field tested a drug on Peter? Bruce- are you serious?”
“Here it comes,” Jason mumbled, slumping back in his chair and watching the landscape roll past outside his window as he prepared for more arguing.
Peter tried to cut in before anything escalated. “I told him to, Dick, it’s fine. There’s not many chemicals that can hurt or kill me, and I trust Barry- he seems cool. Definitely got that whole healing thing down, and we needed to get out of there without people seeing me legless, or I would never be able to go back into public in shorts- and it really gets hot in the summer here-”
“You have no standard for danger at this point, Bruce.” Dick ignored Peter’s explanation entirely. “Damian can’t ride the Bat-Cycle, but you can inject random drugs into a kid?”
Peter’s quiet “I’m not a kid,” mingled with Damian’s perked up “I should be allowed to ride the Bat-Cycle.”
“If there is any chemist in the world that specializes in this kind of serum, it’s Barry. He’s thorough, he wouldn’t have missed anything in the tests after I modified it. This was the trial run, but it wasn’t a ‘random drug’.”
“Children aren’t for your personal trial-run’s Bruce.” Bruce slid the phone he had been holding away, it having been ignored since the beginning of their conversation anyway.
“We’ll monitor him all night in case anything happens. I understand this was… less than optimal, but there wasn’t going to be a better situation to do a first try. He was injured, and he needed it. I took a chance, one that was 90% ensured to succeed. And so far, it did.”
“Look, Dick, really. It’s fine. I’m not a kid- I’ve gotten an extensive amount of injuries. Like I said, I’m pretty resistant. If it did go wrong I likely would have just been a little sick for a few days. Strong stimulants usually do that to me. I would have been fine either way.”
“Usually? How often are you using… stimulants?” Dick questioned, raising an accusatory eyebrow. Peter spluttered, backtracking.
“Not using, I don’t use steroids or anything. I don't even think they'd work on me. But you know, like- when you get gassed or injected with stuff on patrol. I’ve only had three or four times where it really poisoned me, but I have a gas mask now for that. That was kind of embarrassing actually- just a big ol' can of bug spray-”
“How often are you getting compromised like that on patrol?” Bruce took over the parenting for Dick, and Peter wilted when he started to realize they were on different pages about this.
“Well. When you say it like that it sounds a lot worse than it really is.”
“So, often.” Bruce surmised, rubbing his hand down his face tiredly as he mulled it over. Peter could practically see his overprotective instincts plotting in his head.
“No, not often. Just not… uncommon I guess.” He felt his face grow hot in embarrassment, suddenly feeling five years younger than he was. It was Gotham- did the others not get drugged as much as he did? “I’m not bulletproof you know.”
Jason looked back away from the window and into the car, giving Peter an unimpressed look. “You’re not? You know where you live, right?” Peter rolled his eyes. “Not even a little? Is there any armour in that bodysuit?”
“It had knee pads!” Peter argued, not appreciating the insinuation there was anything wrong with his suit. he made it himself, thank you very much. “At one point, at least.” They hadn’t lasted long. Maybe Jason has a point.
“Yep alright. I call dibs on that.” Tim pulled out his phone and started typing on it, no doubt already thinking of ideas. “Are you dead set on the red and blue? Love the red. The blue though… I think black would look better.” Tim sent a smirk to Dick, who elbowed him in the side from beside him.
“I am actually. It’s kinda my whole thing if you haven’t noticed.” Peter responded dryly. “Plus, I think it gives me a Superman vibe- yknow?” Peter flexed, pulling a over dramatic model face as he imitated Clark poorly. “Can I pull it off?”
“Clark doesn’t make that face- what even is that?”
Peter’s lips twisted into a new expression, and Dick’s lips just curled up more in amusement. “That’s not even a real expression. No one looks like that.”
“Clark does.” Peter said, standing his ground and also grateful they had maneuvered the conversation back to something a little friendlier. He poked Bruce’s shiny shoe with his own, getting his attention.
“Right?” He pulled the face again, and Bruce just looked at him blankly as Peter mocked the Kryptonian.
“Only when his cows escape.” Peter, who was already on the verge of laughing let out a string of barely composed giggles.
“See? He agrees.” Peter poked Dick in the ribs with a toe on his bare foot.
Dick was looking at Bruce, both of them leaned back and relaxed in their chair. “I’m telling him you said that.”
“He probably already heard the second you said his name.” Jason said casually.
“No, no way. Too hard to focus on just one thing all the time, he probably tunes us out the second we’re gone.” Peter dismissed, waving his hand.
“Yeah but he has super hearing- he can literally hear everything going on in the world at once.”
“Yeah, but it all overlaps. Trust me- way too hard to hear anything that’s not in your immediate area unless you focus. That’s good news- we’ll get to see his face when we talk to him.” Peter grinned, already imagining the way Clark might incline his head to look at Bruce unimpressed. Or, more likely, with a big grin and chastising Bruce somewhere along the lines of ‘so he can joke?’
“Trust you? You turn half-kryptonian without telling us?” Jason jested, nudging Peter with his shoulder.
“No but it’s probably similar to mine. I don’t think hearing can really change much other than being stronger or weaker, right?”
“Yours? You have super-hearing?”
“Uh, yeah? I thought you knew this? Did you not know know this?”
“What? No? I thought you were just- sticky. And invincible.” Dick floundered, looking shocked.
“If today proved anything I am not invincible.” All credit to that goes to Deadpool. Peter shifted his leg to peer at it again.
“Ok so you have super-hearing, a healing factor and your wall-climbing. Any other surprises up your sleeve?” Peter tilted his head. Dick’s list was… short. Was that really all they thought he could do? Had he not shown them? Had they not figured more out yet? They were detectives.
Peter was disappointed.
He was saved going through a whole skill tree of abilities and quirks by Alfred, who was driving the car, slowing down- rolling easily into the garage and driving through the long room of shiny cars to pull into the main area of the cave, stopping to let the family out before reversing and disappearing to park the car.
Once out of the car, Bruce led Peter over to the examination table, and he hopped up.
“Is your height a super power too?” Jason rested an arm on Peter’s shoulder, using him as support. “Super weakness?”
“That is just puberty. Unfortunately.”
“You mean the lack of it?” Peter snorted and only rolled his eyes at Jason’s teasing.
Peter liked his size, anyway. Sure- he could be taller- but it didn’t affect him anymore. Especially since becoming Spider-Man, where he excelled in enough other ways it was almost inconsequential to his fighting and even gained him the upper hand on many occasions where being small enough to squeeze into tight spaces was necessary and it helped with easier maneuvering. He was still pretty lanky despite being well muscled, and his lean physique had a lot of people underestimating his strength and stamina.
“I’m going to draw some blood now, Peter.” Bruce was already hovering over his arm with a prepared blood drawing needle, looking down at him for confirmation to proceed. Peter nodded, just barely sparing him a nod as he continued his conversation. He felt Bruce’s hand steadying his arm, then the prick of the needle sliding in.
“What else is there then? Do we have to worry about another speedster, cause frankly this family is friends with too many, and someone will have to go.”
“Take Drake’s. It will be a grace to us all.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Bart’s only been here like four times. Get over it.”
“Four is well more than enough.” Damian muttered.
“No, just like. Spider stuff- yknow. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it- I don’t really hide all my… quirks.” Peter shrugged. Quirks maybe wasn’t the best explanation but hey- close enough.
“Spider stuff- very specific, thanks Peter.”
“You know, like- here hold on.” Peter looked over to Bruce to confirm he didn’t need to draw more blood, then hopped up from the table. He had the attention of all four boys as he walked a few steps, then dropped into a crouch, a pose instinctual for him to assume. He looked up, choosing a thick and sturdy looking stalactite hanging from the ceiling as his target. He wiggled his legs, scooting his feet to a more optimal position as he aimed, coiling his muscles tightly before surging upwards in a burst of motion- scaling a hundred feet in under half a second as he hurtled for the ceiling and flew past rock.
Peter neglected using his webs, relying on his setae to hook into the porous rock and cling, slowing his momentum and sticking him to the side of the downwards hanging spike. He looked back towards the floor, observing the four boys- now five including Bruce who was looking up at him now as well- and grinned.
“You know, a lot of things can fall under ‘enhanced strength’. People usually just talk about lifting really heavy things but it’s all your muscles getting strong, so it kinda affects just about everything. I broke my faucet, sink, door handles and fridge the first day my strength kicked in. Not fun to explain at all. Do not recommend.” He released his grip, and let himself free fall back to the cave floor.
Peter crouched up, knowing his body could handle a fall from this high up without 'proper fall technique'. His bones were somewhat more… bug-like… than people would assume. “Timberrrrrr…”
He collided with the floor with a thud and easily caught himself in a crouch. No pain other than his still sore leg- just as he thought.
“I’m going grey,” Dick murmured, visibly deflating from the stressed posture he had adopted as Peter tumbled down a 100+ foot drop.
The free fall left Peter a little energized. The one thing the spider bite had seemed not to affect at all was his sense of adrenaline. Even swinging through the city still made his heart race and blood start to pump with the excitement of it all. Peter didn’t know if it was just how his body worked, or if his mind had yet to accustom itself to his life as Spider-Man. It was a big change, a good change, and it never got any less exciting.
Well, rarely got any less exciting.
Peter sprung up back to his feet, more as a courtesy to the people around him, and plonked himself back down besides Bruce on the exam table, feeling a little proud about impressing a team of professional vigilantes.
“So you jump high too.”
“Yeup.”
“What’s next- eye lasers? Freeze breath?”
”Nah- I’d get sued.”