Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After saying his goodbyes to Ned and MJ, Peter returned to Dr. Strange, his heart pounding. “I’m ready… I’m ready.” He repeated these words like a mantra, trying to convince himself as much as Dr. Strange. Pain radiated from his wounds, cuts, and scrapes, each sting a reminder of the battle he had just endured. The one on his torso felt like fire, a jagged reminder of a lightning strike.

“Good, but this is going to be risky,” Dr. Strange warned, his voice grave. “The invasion of the multiverse is making this world unstable—magic included. Are you sure about this? If this goes wrong…” He let the words hang, the weight of them settling heavily in the air.

Peter nodded, determination blazing in his eyes. He didn’t want to use this spell. Not for the kid who fought beside him in a war that wasn’t his own. Not for the kid who died in Tony’s arms, only to be brought back just to witness Tony’s sacrifice.  

“Is… Is it supposed to be green? ” Peter’s voice broke through the tension. Dr. Strange snapped back to reality, eyes darting to the spell. No, it shouldn’t be green. A jolt of panic surged through him. 

“ Oh shit, Parker— ” 

Before the warning could fully escape his lips, the spell erupted, a blinding flash of chaos. It hurt, a searing light that consumed everything in its path. Peter braced himself, knowing this moment would change everything .

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His body felt like it was on fire. A violent disassembly and reassembly, like tearing paper to shreds and frantically trying to piece it back together. It echoed the sensation he had when dusted, his spider-sense screaming.

 DANGER. PAIN. RUN. GET. AWAY. 

The noise was deafening, a relentless hammering in his skull. 

Wait , his head? Peter realized he was floating. But not in water; it was thicker, like molasses, suffocating his movements. Panic surged as he felt the burning in his lungs. Lack of oxygen clawed at him. He opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright, toxic green that seared his vision. He shut them immediately, the pain sharp and overwhelming.

Still trapped, he thrashed his arms, desperate to find something—anything—that would lead him to air. But nothing greeted him. Thoughts grew fuzzy. His limbs turned to lead. He needed air, and he needed it fast . 

With one last desperate push, he opened his eyes again. The same sickly green greeted him, swallowing his hope. Just when despair threatened to drown him, he thought he heard footsteps—two figures approaching. Consciousness slipped away as he felt someone lift him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick and Jason were investigating a spike in radioactive energy in the dense forest near the Manor. Barbara had tipped them off over an hour ago, but so far, they had turned up empty. 

“I’m starting to think Babs did this just to screw with us,” Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was early morning—around 5 am—and he was already feeling the weight of the day. He had spent the previous night stopping Black Mask from launching another drug ring. The guy was obsessed with that stuff, and Jason had managed to get a solid 7-8 hours of sleep, too.

“I don’t think so. The radiation meter keeps going off randomly—oh shit.” Dick paused, catching Jason's attention. “There’s something to the North. A big something. The radiation meter is going nuts, Jay!” 

Jason’s expression shifted from fatigue to excitement. “Fucking finally!” he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Dick shot him a disapproving glance, but they quickly moved toward the source of the radiation signal.

They stopped abruptly at a small cave opening. “How the hell did Bruce miss a cave that’s basically in his backyard?” It took them a while to find it. The radiation meter was all over the place—indicating signals in every direction and then some. It was starting to drive Jason crazy. Each beep felt like a mini rollercoaster, and he was ready to jump off. 

But now, here they were, at the mouth of the cave, adrenaline surging. This could be the breakthrough they needed.

Jason pressed his finger to the comm in his ear, feeling the slight buzz of connection. “We found the place. It’s a small cave. We haven’t gone in yet though.” 

He caught the faint sound of a mug being placed down. “ Just be careful, Hood, ” Oracle said, her voice steady. “ Whatever’s in there could be dangerous. ” 

Jason rolled his eyes, annoyance creeping in. Oracle anticipated his reaction and added, “ And Nightwing, make sure Hood doesn’t go in guns blazing first and ask questions later. ” 

A chuckle escaped Oracle as Jason groaned. “Gotcha,” Dick replied lightly, removing his finger from the comm. 

They approached the cave’s narrow entrance, Dick leading with purpose. Jason followed closely, three steps behind. The air felt damp, yet the ground was surprisingly dry. A knot formed in Jason’s stomach. 

Dick sensed it too. After they had gone only five feet inside, he gripped one of his escrima sticks, eyes scanning the shadows. Jason tightened his hold on his gun, the weight of it reassuring. 

They halted at a bend in the cave. The walls here were bone dry, a stark contrast to the entrance. Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, especially with the spike in radiation the meter had detected here. 

Dick signaled that it was safe to move forward. But as they turned the corner, they froze . 

In front of them was a Lazarus pit, smaller than the one Jason came out of, but the sickly green hue and the putrid smell of decay were unmistakable. Jason could see himself drowning, struggling for air as burning lungs fought against the deathly embrace. 

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality. Dick’s worried expression made him look more like a sad puppy than anything else. “You good there, Jay?” 

Jason stared for a moment, his thoughts racing to catch up. He nodded, taking a deep breath, though it felt like inhaling poison. “I’m alright, just... didn’t expect this to be here.” He glanced at the pit again, his stomach churning with unease. Why did it have to be here?

“Alright, if you say so,” Dick replied, still concerned. “But if you feel like losing your shit, just let me know, okay?” He squeezed Jason's shoulder gently, offering a reassurance Jason didn’t realize he needed. It helped, dimming the storm inside him, if only slightly. He nodded, and Dick released him, turning back to the glowing pit.

At least they know now what was causing the radiation spike, but an unsettling feeling lodged itself deeper in his gut. They edged closer, tension in the air thick enough to cut. Dick then turned away to report back to Babs on what they’d found. 

Against his better judgment, Jason moved tentatively forward. His heart raced. He peered into the pit, drawn by a morbid curiosity. What was that? He inched closer, eyes widening as he realized what it was. 

“Oh shit…” Jason barely got the words out before a thick green fog swallowed his vision. He threw off his helmet, panic driving him as he dove into the pit. Behind him, Dick stood frozen, his mind racing. 

Jason’s body sank into the viscous, acid-green liquid. It felt unsettlingly familiar, a sensation that twisted his gut. But there was something else—an instinct , a certainty . Someone was down there. He reached into the depths, fingers brushing against a thin, fragile arm. 

A child. 

With a surge of urgency, Jason pulled the small figure close, wrapping his arms around the kid as his feet touched the pit’s bottom. He bent down and propelled himself upward, breaking the surface with a desperate gasp. 

Air flooded his lungs as he emerged, eyes wide with terror. Dick was there, rushing toward him, his expression a mix of shock and fear. The only sounds were Jason’s ragged breaths and the dry heaves that wracked his body. 

Dick grunted, straining to pull them both from the pit’s grasp. The acidic stench clung to them as he dragged Jason and the child back to the cave’s dry ground. Dick’s eyes were wide, filled with horror, but the shock quickly faded into determination. He checked the child’s pulse— nothing . Without hesitation, he started chest compressions, urgency coursing through him. 

“Why the hell was there a kid in there?!” Dick shouted, his voice rough, a mix of panic and disbelief. His breaths came in heavy gasps, each one feeling like a weight in his chest. 

“How the fuck should I know, Dick?! I had a bad feeling. I got closer to that thing, and then—there was a literal child in it! My first instinct? Grab the kid, ask questions later!” Jason’s voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos around them. He could see Dick's eyes, wide with shock, mirroring his own horror. But right now, they didn’t have time to unravel the why or how. The child lay motionless , not breathing.

“Sorry, shit, sorry! I’m freaking out!” Dick stammered, his hands shaky against the small, fragile body.

“Oh shut it! Just keep doing chest compressions on the kid while I get Oracle to have Agent A set up a bed in the med bay!” Jason barked. Dick just nodded, focusing back on the child before him. The stillness was suffocating. He felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. If this kid didn’t start breathing soon, he’d have to push harder, risk breaking fragile ribs or worse .

With every compression, Dick felt the dread building. The kid remained lifeless , and despair clawed at his insides. Just as he braced himself to push with more force, he felt it—a slight cough, a tremor beneath his hands. The child’s body lifted slightly, as if fighting back against the darkness. 

Holy shit, he’s alive!

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter’s eyes snapped open. He gasped, his body convulsing as he coughed violently, expelling the green liquid that had filled his lungs. The fit went on until every bitter drop was out. 

Exhaustion washed over him, mingled with a deep gratitude for whoever had saved him. His spider-sense was quiet, a rare moment of peace indicating he was safe, at least for now. Panic faded as he focused on the simple joy of breathing again.

Once he steadied his breath, Peter turned his gaze to the two people beside him. One was close, arm around his shoulder in a half hug, a comforting weight he couldn’t muster the energy to resist. The other man knelt before him, lips moving, but Peter struggled to catch his words. 

The first man had lightly tanned skin, a patterned mask obscuring his features. His dark brown hair curled just above his ears, giving him a youthful appearance. Batons hung from his back, ready for action. His suit clung to his frame, adorned with a bright blue bird emblazoned on his chest, wings stretching down to his lower arms. A dark utility belt held an array of gadgets, each one hinting at stories of battles fought and won.

Curiosity sparked within Peter, but he pushed it aside for now. He shifted his focus back to the kneeling man.

He was lean but muscular, his physique defined beneath his clothes. His hair mirrored the first guy's, yet a striking white streak set it apart. His skin, slightly tanned, was paler than bluebirds, and his eyes—an unsettling blend of blue and an unnatural green—prompted Peter to jot down questions for later.

The man wore a brown leather jacket, a red helmet tucked against his side. Patches adorned the jacket, one resembling a fierce red bird. Underneath, a black, skin-tight bodysuit clung to him, though the jacket obscured the symbol on it, leaving Peter guessing. 

By his upper thighs, bulky objects caught Peter's eye. One thing he never fully got over was his fear of guns after Ben’s death, but with being Spider-man he had to learn to deal with it. The idea that the man infront of him could possibly have guns on hand made him uneasy. He just hoped he was wrong.

They were both talking to each other, with words slowly starting to become audible but not enough for him to understand what the conversation was about. “He’s not—Well I don’t—But the kid-” Their voices kept cutting out, replaced by muffled ones and the slight sound of static that Peter decided to ignore. Peter’s body ached significantly which was why he decided to just let them man-handle him like a toddler but after a minute his vision finally cleared and his first thought was, ‘ Oh- those ARE guns..’ Which definitely didn’t make him feel any better either but he decided to ignore it like he does everything else and figure out what happened properly. Dr. Strange's spell went all ‘ God's Heavenly Earth’ on his ass and from the amount of pain he was in before he died.. Died? Oh- yeah he definitely died.. Not an unfamiliar feeling but not pleasant either. But hey! He’s alive again.. Somehow so no need to worry about that whole situation at hand! 

Then the world felt like it was spinning as the man scooped him up like a toddler. “Wha—” His throat burned from the earlier coughing fit. Coughing again only startled the blue-bird, who flinched and began rubbing circles on his back. It definitely didn’t make him feel any better at all! 

As they moved through the cave tunnel, unease crept in. The damp air and echoing footsteps gave him the hibbe-geebeez. Yet, exhaustion weighed on his eyelids. With each step, the darkness felt inviting. He surrendered, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep, like a light switched off.

Chapter Text

Peter woke up slowly, he felt something soft under him. He didn't want to move. Couldn't, really. His body felt like dead weight, heavy, unresponsive, and his head was throbbing. A bead of sweat traced a cold path down his nose, Peter cringed internally. He wanted a show-

Wait a minute..

Wasn’t he just at the top of the statue of liberty with Dr. Strange?

His eyes snapped open. A vast, unfamiliar room stretched before him. Too big. Then came the fragmented images: a flash of green, the dark dampness of a cave. He remembered two figures. Vigilantes, he thought. The vague sensation of being carried and falling asleep.

But all that doesn’t answer the question of, where the hell is he?!

Peter pulled himself up, or attempted to before his arms gave out and he fell back against the soft pillows.

Damn it, c’mon body! Now’s not the time for you to give out on me. I need to find a way out, because I’d rather not take my chances with the big issue of whether those guys before were vigilante’s or something worse and knowing his luck, well again-he’d rather not risk it. Mysterio-Beck, at least taught him one thing-don’t trust people right off the bat. I mean you shouldn’t anyway but, still.

So with new found determination and slight fear, he pulled himself up. His vision swam causing him to grip the headboard. After a few seconds, his vision stopped spinning allowing Peter to actually see the room he was in.

It was large (no shit), with pale green walls and dark wooden floors. Painting lined the walls, of animals, buildings, people he didn’t recognize, etc. Although fortunately for him, there were two windows on his left. 

Bingo

With his way out discovered, Peter slowly stood up on shaking legs. A cough caught in his throat. It felt raw, scraped. He slowly made his way over to the left window, every few steps, he stopped, forcing a quiet cough into his elbow. He was sick. No time for that. His healing factor would take care of it. A day or two, it would be gone.Approaching the window, Peter could immediately tell he wasn’t in New York anymore. 

“You're in Gotham baby boy!” ^v^

Ignoring the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like DP-The city was dark, smog hanging over the whole city. The other houses on the street were basically mansions, manors? He didn’t know the difference. Looking beyond the skyscrapers, he could see a large bridge leading to another part of the city. Although the buildings looked like they went to war with the Punisher..

His spidey-sense has been a dull buzz since he woke up, not changing as he moved to the window. 

Wary,unknown,cautious,city,danger(?),careful

So the whole city itself is dangerous…fun…

Peters thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming towards the door.

New,unfamiliar,wary,careful,hide,run,old(?)

Shit-

Peter hastily with weak hands, opened the window and scrambled out onto the cold roof tiles. He quietly rushed over to the side of the roof and climbed down, having to stop himself from coughing a few times before hitting the ground and sprinting towards the city. Shivers wrecked his body as he ran but he ignored it, swerving around people and avoiding the areas his spidey-sense screamed at-he made it to the bridge.

As soon as he slowed down to a stop he started coughing, the air was cold, his body was hurting, and his headache leveled up to a migraine- lovely.

When he finally stopped coughing Peter walked across the bridge hoping to find somewhere where he can get information, like where Gotham is for example.

—

Alfred opened the door to their guests room, a towel and water bowl in hand only to find their guest gone. The bed was messed up and half the blanket was on the floor, while the left window was open.

“Our guest has departed unexpectedly,” Alfred stated, his voice calm. He walked to the open window. He scanned the immediate outdoor area, searching for the boy. The exit appeared recent, but no trace of the child was visible. He closed the window. Walking towards the bed, he bent down and picked up the blanket. Folding the blanket down onto the bed, he gave a small smile before heading towards Master Bruce’s study to inform him of the child’s disappearance. 

—

Peter hates this city, he’s almost been mugged 12 times in the last hour , what the hell?! 

Besides that he’s completely lost, after he crossed over the bridge his spider-sense had become a slightly stronger buzz alerting him that this part of the city is dangerous and to be wary-which, he kinda already knew based on the amount of crimes he can hear happening. 

He wants to help, really-he does. But he’s not stupid; he doesn’t have his suit and he feels like the wind could knock him over any second. So swallowing the guilt in his stomach he kept walking to-wherever he’s walking to.

~~~

After a bit of walking Peter came across a library that looks a lot more put together than any other building here. Gotham Library it stated right above the doors, opening them Peter was flushed with warm air. Thank God, I thought I was going to be a spidersicle.  

Walking in Peter was in awe at how large it was, the marble floors, the chandelier above him. It felt like he was walking into a mansion. He looked over at the front desk to the left of the doors and saw nobody there,

Where's the librarian? He thought

It was odd, but maybe they were just in the back room doing something. Although he should be able to hear them if that was true…maybe the back room is soundproof? Okay that would be weird but it’s still a possibility.  

Shrugging it off Peter looked around for computers, if they had any before finding them on the second floor. The computers were bulky and definitely out of date, they looked like the computers before Stark Tech. Eughhh.

Sitting down in front of a computer he noticed a sticky note with the guest login written down. Logging in (Which took way too long) Peter clicked on some knockoff google, Sooble(?)- and looked up Gotham.

[Search: Gotham

Results: 14,000,605

Checked: 6,483,648]

Clicking on the first link Peter just become confused and worried-

[Gotham City, also known as the crime capital of America is located in New Jersey. It is known for it’s nefarious rogues and vigilantes, the Bats.-]

First off-he’s never heard of Gotham in his entire life and he thinks he would have being a vigilante himself and the fact it’s the crime capital of America apparently. Second-HE’S IN NEW JERSEY?!

EWWWWWWWWW!

“Ewww indeed baby boy.” XP

“Deadpool?-you know what, nope not gonna talk to the voice in my head in a library-back on track Parker” Peter mumbled, hoping no one had heard him.

Then he remembered the article mentioning rogues(?)-(Are they villains?)-and vigilantes. Looking up Gotham Vigilantes took him down a very long rabbit hole, there was Batman, Nightwing, Batwoman (Who hasn’t been seen in years), Black Bat, Spoiler (What kind of name is that?), Signal (The only daytime vigilante, poor guy), Red Robin (Yum!), and Robin.

Which is a lot for one city but Peter can’t really say anything because New York has way more Heroes AND Vigilantes . Continuing his earlier thought he goes to search up ‘Stark Tower’ to use their publix email only for the search to come up empty.

Huh?

Peters stomach twisted at this and he searched up ‘ The Avengers’ -

[No results found, check for any spellings mistakes.]

…

Stupid Parker Luck! 

Peter was frustrated because he knows now what happened but he doesn’t want to accept it.

He’s in another universe, great . 

Peter took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, at least this way no one will ever remember him.  

Looking at the time on the computer Peter froze, because the date’s wrong…right? It’s 2025 not 2011..Then he realized just how much shorter he was compared to the computer. Confused and a little worried, Peter signed off the computer and went to find a bathroom, which luckily-was right next to the computers. 

Entering the bathroom Peter rushed over to the mirrors, except, he was too short to look into them. 

“What the hell…” Peter was NOT this short, he might’ve been shorter than most at 15, standing at roughly 5,7 but he wasn’t, like, 3 feet tall!?

Peter quickly looked around for a stool and, thank god, he found one. He placed it in front of the sink and climbed up. He froze when he looked into the mirror, 

“What the hell!?” He yelled, he was 10 again! Maybe-he was a really short kid so he couldn't tell. Great, now he can add time travel to the list. He huffed in annoyance while getting down from the stool, putting it back where he found it.

At least now he knows to avoid homeless shelters, he doesn’t want CPS called on him. 

With that last thought Peter decided to leave the library and find some place to settle in until he can find out what to do.

As soon as he walked outside his body shuddered, it was cold, freezing even. Which now remembering he’s sick and definitely shouldn’t be out in the cold in the first place starts to look for a place to squat in.

After avoiding being mugged a few times and wandering for maybe around an hour(?) he can’t tell anymore his heads a bit fuzzy, weird. He was able to spot some abandoned opera house, which was boarded up from top to bottom except for a small window on the second floor. With numb hands and a whole coughing fit he climbed his way up and into the window, closing it behind him.

Peter looked around for some place to sleep, noticing old rubber mats on the floor, he gathered them up and placed them messily around each other and laid down with a yawn.

He could explore the rest of the opera house tomorrow, he just wants to sleep.Closing his eyes, Peter soon fell asleep.

Chapter Text

‘ Why’s it so damn hot in here? ’ That was the first thought that hit Peter when he woke up. The next? ‘ God, I’m starving. ’ 

He got up slowly. His body dripped with sweat , like he’d just taken a dive into the Hudson River— again . Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he stood up, stretched, and made it his mission to find some food. 

He shuffled outside to the back alley behind the opera house. The sky looked just as cloudy as the day before. 

“This city is like if New York and Jersey had a baby, abandoned it, and said baby became emo.” 

Was Peter being overly dramatic? Absolutely. But did he care? Not in the slightest.

Peter started walking through multiple alleyways, checking dumpsters for any thrown out food. Stealing was and never will be an option. Finally Peter found what he would call a sad excuse of a piece of bread, it was small , hard, and would barely do anything with his metabolism. 

Before Peter had the chance to take a bite of said ‘bread’ before someone grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up, he was shoved into the wall right next to the dumpster, he grimaced at the smell.

DANGER!

The barrel of a gun was shoved into the side of his head, which- Ouch.

“Give me all your cash kid!” Mr. Gunner shoved him harder against the wall.

DANGER-

‘ YES, I KNOW!’

Jesus, sometimes his spider-sense is more of a nuisance than helpful. With a sigh Peter looked at Mr. Gunner Wacko over here who was spouting multiple threats his way but not actually committing to them.

“Listen man, I have no money on me. I don’t even have pockets! So please, kindly, screw off.” Peter could hear Aunt May scolding him, the thought of her hurt, but it was also comforting.

Besides, given the situation and how his life has been going. Being polite in any way is not one of his main priorities at the moment. 

…Wait, he was getting mugged, he should really stop spacing out.

MOVE!

Wait why-

White hot pain shot through his leg. He felt the warmth of blood seep into his clothes, staining his pants. He was shot! In his leg! What the actual hell!?

 “Really, man!? These were perfectly good pants!” 

Mr. Gunner Wacko dropped Peter, cussed, and ran. Coward .

 “Shit, ow ow ow oww!” Peter pressed himself against the wall, his injured leg stretched out in front of him. Not his first time being shot, but it still hurt like hell. Lifting his pant leg over his thigh, he inspected the entry wound. Careful movements. No exit wound. Great. Just my luck.

Peter had removed bullets before. It was never easy, which-why would it be? With a deep breath, he reached into the wound, wincing at the sharp pain. Gritting his teeth, he went deeper, fingers brushing against the bullet. It slipped from his grip, blood slipping through his fingers like a bad joke. Annoyed, he tried again, sticking to it this time so as to not let it slip again. 

Finally , he pulled the bullet out. He took a deep breath, the city’s crappy pollution filling his lungs.

 “I hate this city so much…”

Peter ripped a piece of his blood stained pants off and tightly tied it around the wound. Hoping it’ll either slow or stop him from losing anymore blood so his healing factor can start actually healing the wound properly.

Peter was exhausted, hungry, and overall kinda pissed at his situation.

“Not my worst day though..” Which is true .

“Okay Parker, no time to linger in a sketchy alleyway bleeding half to death, don’t want to get mugged.. again.. ” Which has happened before, which just goes to show how shit his luck is.

He pushed himself off the grimy ground of the alleyway, the sticky residue clinging to his palms. Shuffling over to the dumpster, he spotted the piece of bread from earlier, a sad crusty remnant of someone’s meal. Without a second thought, he shoved it into his mouth and gulped it down whole. Starvation was the kind of hunger that made etiquette take a backseat. Manners? They could go screw themselves.

He could feel the itch of his healing factor, finally . Working primarily on the bullet wound. Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to walk properly without adrenaline aiding him, or panic, or fear, really.

“Wow, I’m severely traumatized.. fun.” Peter looked up and debated hanging out on the roof until his leg was healed enough to head back or- he just goes back to the opera house without any care for his leg.. decisions, decisions, decisions..

Well, he does want to get a better look at the city and where he is. Kinda hard to tell when it’s constantly dark out-ish, he thinks it’s day. He’s not sure, the clouds make Gotham feel like it’s constantly shrouded in darkness and self-lothing. Which- mood.

Peter slowly but quickly climbs up to the roof, and lays there. Letting the cold(?) air hug his body, causing a shiver to rattle his body. 

The sky is not very nice to look at with its whole, ‘ doom and gloom’ thing it’s constantly doing. Closing his eyes and ignoring the biting cold, Peter could almost convince himself that he was still in New York, that he wasn’t in some other universe far away from his own.

Okay, let's ditch that train of thought. Like, right now.

Peter was snapped out of his thoughts by a fuzzy feeling on his leg, sitting up Peter could see a tiny jumping spider nestle himself into the makeshift bandage on his leg. It made a few clicks in satisfaction, at least he thinks they are. 

Peter loves spiders, even after the whole traumatic almost dying by being bitten by a radioactive spider situation. He wasn’t afraid of them, probably because he knew that spider probably bit him out of fear rather than malicious intent. 

He laughed at the thought of it, imagining a spider running at him with a knife or gun . 

All of a sudden his stomach grumbled, loud and clear.

“Jeeze, might as well announce I’m starving to every person in this city.” Peter huffed, getting up. 

His leg was still messed up but it was better than before. He made sure that his spider friend didn’t fall off and offered his hand, the Neonella (smallest jumping spider) crawled on and up to his shoulder where it curled up and chirped again, content.

Friend!

Peter's spidey-sense buzzed, happy to have another spider around. Looking around at the city Peter spotted a bakery nearby, just a few buildings away. His stomach was basically screaming at him so without too much thought put into it Peter climbed down back into the alleyway and started to head over to the bakery. 

—

Once Peter reached the bakery he slipped into the alleyway behind it, broke the lock on the dumpster ( who puts locks on dumpsters?) he opened the lid and was met with the heavenly smell of donuts, muffins, and- are those churros!?

“Score!!” He immediately grabbed the churros and the bag of donuts and quietly shut the lid. Peter made his way back to the opera house, avoiding alleyways that made his spidey-sense jump, even if a little. He’s not going to let himself lose the food he found, especially the churros.

Once inside, Peter sat himself on the dusted broken stage and popped a churros in his mouth, of course half of the thing was hanging out of his mouth but he was too hungry to care about it. 

Peter started thinking about what he could do to fix this place up enough so that it was more… livable , but still seemed abandoned on the outside so it wouldn’t seem suspicious.

Okay, first he can strip the seats. See if he can use the stuffing ( foam?) to make a better bed than the one made out of crappy mats upstairs.

Neonella or Ella he dubbed her, crawled down onto the stage and looked around, clicking and chirping curiously. It made him smile before he focused back on what he was doing before.

Then after making himself a better ‘bed’ Peter could go dumpster diving for some parts to maybe make a toaster oven? He’ll figure it out. May had broken theirs once by putting popcorn in it, he was able to fix it but their apartment smelled like burnt popcorn for a week. It was awful.

Peter smiled at the memories. May, the woman who basically raised him is gone . It’s his fault, always is, but at this point Peter’s accepted that fact. Aunt May would give him a firm scolding if she found out he’s blaming himself. But he’s the most common variable in every death, injury, or problem. 

“Not your fault Spidey, never your fault.” >:(

“How-y’know what, if I’m going to have a voice in my head, I’m glad it’s Wade’s. Even if he’s annoying sometimes.” Peter popped another churro in his mouth.

“Hey! I’m never annoying, I’m just a very open, talkative, and your extremely hot bestie!” >:0

Peter rolled his eyes, smiling. 

—

Well ripping apart the chairs took literally all day. After he finished eating, he decided to start on making himself a ‘better’ bed with the stuffing inside the theater seats. Now he’s surrounded by stuffing, some has mold but not a lot thankfully. 

Honestly, Peter feels like his luck is too good to be true for the past few hours. Something bad is probably going to happen at some point, knowing his luck. 

Yay..