Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Send me away,” Peter tells Dr Strange, putting on a mask of courage he knew all too well, shoulders back, head high, keep your breath even. He hears his past instructor’s voice in his head.

“Are you sure about this, Peter?” Dr Strange asks, concern showing on his face.

Peter has never been ‘sure’ about anything in his whole life. He thought he was sure about his role in Hydra. It turns out that everything he stood for was wrong. He thought he was sure about being a hero and helping people; look how that turned out.

And well, he currently has very limited options, and he caused this. He and his damned Parker Luck are the reason everything that can go wrong goes wrong.

“Yeah,” He looks at Dr Strange dead in the eye, “I am.”

For a split second, Dr strange looks like he wants to say something, but ends up staying silent. He waves his hands, and golden streaks shoot out and wrap around them. A portal forms, showing a city on the other side.

Peter inhales sharply. He takes a few cautious steps forward until he is standing in front of the portal.

“Can you tell them I'm sorry?” His voice cracked, he kept his eyes glued to the ground, not daring to look back, afraid he would change his mind and doom the world by existing in it.

“I will, kid.” Dr Strange’s voice had a regretful edge to it. Peter couldn’t see his face, but if he could, he imagined the sorcerer looking hurt—if that was even possible.

“Thanks, sir.” Peter holds his breath, preparing to leave his entire life behind with one step.

“Call me Stephen.” He pauses, and a small smile makes its way to his face. “Thanks, Stephen.”

“Eh, still feels weird.”

Still smiling, Peter finally takes a step forward, letting the darkness consume him.

“So long, kid,” Dr Strange said to nobody.

Peter is falling—at least he thinks so.

He can feel the air rushing through his hair, hear the sound of the city getting closer and closer. If he were falling, he should properly do something about it, so he doesn’t, you know, dive headfirst into the pavement and die.

He should do something.

He doesn’t want to, though.

Would it even matter if he just falls and dies? No one would miss him anyway, anyone who would’ve is either dead or dying. His situation didn’t really scream ‘I want to live’.

Besides, he is in an alternative universe, anyone who has had the unfortunate honour of meeting him was left behind, and no one was affected by his damned Parker luck in this universe yet. His dying would single-handedly do this universe a favour.

Yeah, he doesn’t think he’ll do anything to save himself. He can just fall, then he can finally rest.

His spider-senses are screaming at him to do something, but Peter was just…so tired.

Is it selfish? Maybe. He can afford to be selfish just this once, he spent all his goddamn life going along with what other people want, prioritizing their needs, pushing himself to please others.

So, fuck what his spider-sense thinks. He decided that he wanted to die right here and now, for his and everyone’s sake.

Of course, the universe fucking hates him, and he ends up landing in a dumpster of all places.

He has no idea how he doesn’t die or how he doesn’t get a concussion, though he is disappointed about the first part, you won’t see him complaining about the second.

Sitting up, the first thing he notices is that he’s wearing different clothes from what he was initially wearing. Instead of his spider-suit, he’s wearing a black hoodie with black pants, efficient.

Black clothes always help with blending in, no matter his surroundings. His trainers constantly stressed that fact, scolding and even punishing him if he wore anything with a hint of colour on his missions.

Peter shudders at the thought of Hydra, opting to focus on his current situation rather than letting his thoughts trail to er— not so pleasant memories.

He is in an alley of sorts. There were a bunch of cardboard boxes on the opposite side of the dumpster, on top was a backpack with a note attached that says ‘good luck out there – D.S’.

That was nice of him, Peter thinks. He tries to stand up—Keyword: tries—He winces in pain and curses his luck. If multiverse magic can give him an outfit change and a survival bag, why in God's name can it not heal his injuries? It doesn’t make a single drop of sense, in his humble opinion.

He bites the inside of his cheek and stands up despite the pain. Thankfully, he makes it to the bag without collapsing.

He opens it and looks through it. There are a couple of protein bars and water bottles that will probably last his 5-6 days, maybe 10 if he rations it correctly. His stark phone is also there, along with $200 cash—wtf, Stephen— and at the very bottom was his spidey-suit.

He doesn’t think he’ll go out as Spider-Man for a while; superheroes and vigilantes might not even exist in this universe, so that suit will stay in the bag until further notice.

Still, he should probably activate Karen, even if he doesn’t continue being Spider-Man, having a familiar face—or in Karen’s case, voice—will help him adjust to being in an entirely new universe.

He touches the spidey-suit, letting a few nanobots cover his finger, then pulls away.

He puts his finger up to his ear, and the nanobots move to his ear, acting as an earpiece.

“Karen? Can you hear me?” Peter whispers, he really hopes that she answers; he doesn’t have a backup plan if Karen doesn’t answer.

After a few moments of absolute silence, he hears static, then “Yes, I can, Peter.”

Peter sighs in relief, “Hi Karen.”

“Hello Peter, I cannot connect to the stark tower. Would you like me to keep trying?”

“No, uh…you won’t be able to, we’re in a different universe.”

“I see, would you like me to find another source to connect to?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks Karen”

“My pleasure.”

He was going to let Karen do her thing, but he remembered that going around wearing an earpiece wasn’t exactly normal. He doubts that anyone would really notice it, but it’s still better safe than sorry.

“Hey, Karen? Can you make the earpiece look like a hearing aid?”

“Of course,”

The nanobots shifted around for a while. It was uncomfortable if he was being honest, but having a hearing aid was a great idea. Firstly, Karen can easily talk to him without much complications, second, people tend to be much more honest around people they think can’t hear them.

Finally, the bots stop moving, “Done”.

Peter touches his ear to check, and sure enough, he can feel a hearing aid around his ear.

Now that this was done, he closed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He puts his hood up, takes a deep breath, and steps out of the alley.

Everything hits him all at once: the ridiculously strong smell of gas, sewage, and chemicals. The sounds of a million crimes all happening at the same time, of the traffic, and the loud chatter.

His spider-senses are screaming ‘danger!’ from all directions, even below him—that doesn’t even make any sense!

He staggers, and uses the building next to him to support his weight cause holy shithe was disoriented.

What kind of city is this?! Did it crawl its way out of hell?!

He keeps leaning on the building until his breathing is even and his senses are stable enough.

During his mini panic attack, he realises that his hands are smaller than they used to be. He got de-aged, great. Just great. Fuck you, multiverse magic.

He will deal with that later; right now, he needs to figure out where the hell he is. Meaning he needs to find a library or something similar if libraries didn’t exist in this universe.

He takes one last deep breath and lets his senses take the lead.

In the past, when he was sent to missions with little to no knowledge about his environment, he would rely on his spidey-senses to get him around. It worked most times.

He won’t talk about the times it failed him. That secret will follow him to the grave.

Meanwhile, he mentally checks off a few things from his how-to-survive-in-an-unknown-place guide.

Find a water source -check.

Find out where you are -working on it.

Find shelter -he will cross that bridge when he gets there.

Find a food source -also check.

He isn’t in a bad situation as he originally thought; he can work things out.

The more he walks, the more he realises how utterly insane this city is. Every single step he takes makes his spider-senses go haywire. He’s passed about 8 muggings already, and it took everything in him not to stop and help.

He doesn’t know how long he has been walking, but he has finally reached his destination.

He stood in front of a giant building that looked like it had seen better days. The place had gargoyles, what in the name of Scoopy-Doo is this??? It had ‘Gotham Public Library’ carved on top. Overall, it looks like it came out of a fucking movie.

He hopes that ‘Gotham’ isn’t the name of the city he was thrown into because it sounds like it was named by an emo teenager with mommy issues.

He prays to whatever deity that is willing to listen to let this universe have computers. Please don’t let this universe be set in the 50s.

He goes up the flight of stairs, every possible scenario going through his mind. He could walk in there, ask for the computers, and the librarian would think that he was a lunatic cause computers last existed a billion years ago, and everyone uses robots now or something similar.

God, they might speak an alien language! This is a horrible idea. He should leave and never come back, live his life on the streets, and die from hypothermia on a rainy day.

No! Bad Peter! He shakes his head and goes inside despite the million worst-case scenarios he is thinking of.

Lo and behold, it's a normal human woman at the desk.

She had red hair and was typing something on the laptop in front of her. And if laptops exist, then so do computers, hopefully.

He walks up to the desk, looking at his surroundings in the process. It looked like a normal library, so far, his this-is-an-alien-universe fear is yet to be confirmed.

“Uh, hello?” Now that he thinks about it, his voice is way too high-pitched for him to be aged down by 1 or 2 years. He sounds ten!

The lady looks up, a look of shock flashes on her face, but it's gone as fast as it came.

“Hi! How can I help you?” Her voice is cheery, and she has a welcoming smile on her face.

“Are there any computers I can use here?” Please don’t say no because I look like a child. God, this was awkward.

“Yeah, of course! They’re just in the back.” She points to her left. (HA, TAKE THAT ANXIETY, THEY EXIST!)

“Thanks, miss…” her name tag reads ‘Barbara’ “Barbara”

“Anytime!”

He smiles politely and makes his way to the computers, and these things look ancient.

He still sits down and turns it on, to his delight, Google does exist in this universe.

The first thing he looks up is ‘Gotham’

Gotham City (/ˈɡɒθəm/ GOTH-əm)

A city in the Northeastern United States, located in the U.S. state of New Jersey. It is best known as the home of the superhero Batman and his allies and foes.

He’s in New Jersey? Ew.

So, Gotham does exist, and according to this Wikipedia article, it has one of the highest crime rates in the world. Just his luck.

He keeps searching random stuff to try and get as much information as possible. There's an equivalent to the Avengers called the Justice League. The city he is in has a flock of its heroes, all with equally stupid names. What happens here to require this many heroes?!

He learns that he is in the past too; it's still 2015 in this universe, which explains the outdated computers.

He takes out his Stark phone and connects it to the computer.

“Hey Karen, think you can connect to the internet from here?” he whispers as quietly as he can.

“Of course, Peter.” She whispers back.

He lets Karen do her thing.

A few moments later, Karen notifies him that she’s done. He takes his phone, clears his search history, closes the computer, and leaves quietly.

Barbara Gordon was not one to freak out.

She was Batgirl once upon a time, and she had learned not to panic during stressful situations fast because if she freaks out, then whoever she's helping will too.

Then Joker happened, and she became Oracle, and any moment of panic she could’ve had as Batgirl became impossible.

She was the team's eyes and ears; she had to notify them of danger, of rogue locations, of plans, of the others' location, and notify the team if someone needed backup. A moment of panic could mean life or death for her family.

So no, Barbara Gordon did not allow herself to freak out.

But when a carbon copy of the first robin walked in and asked her where the computers were, Barbara bluescreened.

At first, she thought about the possibility of time travel, but the kid didn’t seem to recognise her.

Maybe he was a clone? God, that was a can of worms she doesn’t want to open.

He does look young enough to be Dicks biological kid. It might be another Damien situation where the mother hid him for years and then dropped him off at Gotham.

Whatever it was, she had to tell the others ASAP.

She opens the group chat that was originally for ‘official mission reports ONLY’; it lasted a week before someone sent a meme, and now it's pure chaos.

BARBIE: We have a problem

PREVIOUSCULTLEADER: If killer croc broke out of Arkham again, I'm suing someone.

PURPLECHILD: What duke said.

SLEEPDEPRIVED: what is it babs?

BARBIE: I’m pretty sure I just saw dicks kid.

Several people are typing…

Chapter Text

SLEEPDEPRIVED: imma need you to elaborate on that.

PURPLECHILD: god damn it, couldn’t u have waited 1 more month? I just lost 50 bucks >:(

THEATREKID: don’t be a sore loser.

DEMONBRAT: Cease your foolish statement, Grayson does not have a child.

BARBIE: *video attachment*

SLEEPDEPRIVED: huh

PURPLECHILD: holy shit

THEATREKID: ^

PREVIOUSCULTLEADER: shouldn’t someone call dick?

THEATREKID: You’re totally right.

THEATREKID: @dickiebird, congratulations! It’s a boy.

PREVIOUSCULTLEADER: not like that

DICKIEBIRD: what’s going on?

PURPLECHILD: u have a kid, probably.

DICKIEBIRD: WHAT?!

SLEEPDEPRIVED: Wait, do we tell Bruce?

BARBIE: No.

THEATREKID: NO

PREVIOUSCULTLEADER: no

DICKIEBIRD: can we circle back to my child? Where is he now? What's his name??

BARBIE: abt that…

DICKIEBIRD: Babs, please don’t tell me you’ve lost my kid.

Barbara looked up from her phone to check on the kid, only to be met by an empty chair, the computer turned off, and no sign that he was even there. She pulled up the surveillance footage to check if he actually left or if he went to get a book from the back because there is no way a literal kid just walked out the front door without her—someone who was trained by Batman—even noticing.

She skips forward until she sees the kid turn off the computer, and despite the fact that she was sitting at the front desk, he just got up and left. He walked right past her, and she didn’t notice at all.

Come to think of it, she didn’t hear him enter either; his footsteps and overall movement were eerily quiet.

That’s not creepy at all.

Now she has to tell dick that his potential-kid is possibly trained, or maybe he was ghost, though she is leaning towards the former conclusion.

Either way, this was bad. Dick was definitely going to kill her.

BARBIE: The kid’s gone.

DICKIEBIRD: WDYM HE’S GONE

BARBIE: He just left.

SLEEPDEPRIVED: You didn’t notice?

BARBIE: No.

PURPLECHILD: Is it impossible for this family to have one normal member?

SLEEPDEPRIVED: So, we have a maybe-trained-maybe-ghost-kid on the loose? Great, just great.

PREVIOUSCULTLEADER: I was having a good week too :(

Barbara sighed and slumped into her chair; this was going to be a long week.

Now that Peter knew where he was, and had enough information to not die at least, His next step is to find a place to stay. First thing that came to mind was to just rent an apartment, this was 2015, and this city was a hellhole, which means that rent prices were probably extremely cheap, and thanks to the backpack DR. Strange left him, he had 200$ cash on him. It would’ve been a flawless plan if it wasn’t for the fact that he is literally like 10 or something.

So, he can’t rent a place to stay in, the next best thing is to find an abandoned building and just stay there.

Truth be told, that plan wasn’t ideal: There was no actual way to confirm whether a building was abandoned or not. It could look abandoned, but someone might be living inside, or it could look full of life, and when you go inside, there wouldn’t be anyone there.

He thought both choices over, he could make a fake identity for himself and just make it look like he has a guardian looking after him, faking birth certificates was no big deal, but honestly, he didn’t want to go through the trouble of hacking the government, so abandoned building hunting it is!

“Hey, Karen?” he mutters under his breath and keeps walking; he doesn’t want to look suspicious by stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and talking to himself.

“Yes, Peter?” Karen's voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Can you lead me to the nearest abandoned building?”

“Of course, would you like me to tell you the directions now?”

“Yes, please.”

“Great, continue straight ahead.”

Peter follows Karen's directions. He trusts her, obviously, but wherever she’s leading him had his spider senses worked up. A feeling of unease kept growing in his gut with every step he takes, sure he could just blame it on this nightmare-Ish city, he has learned to trust his intuition, so he keeps his guard up, he scans every inch of each path he takes, he keeps his hands clenched so he can easily attack anyone who may pose a threat to his safety.

Call him paranoid, but growing up as an assassin does stuff to your brain.

It has been a while since he had to watch his back every step he takes. He hadn’t done so ever since the Avengers rescued him. He had gotten used to feeling safe, to not having to overthink everything, to not thinking everyone was out to get him. He was still cautious, sure, but he didn’t feel like he was in constant danger.

This city, ‘Gotham’, was resurfacing not-so-good memories, and it was creeping him out.

He doesn’t want to remember those things because he doesn’t want to deal with these memories; he’d rather that part of his past stay buried down deep in the roots of who he is. He thought he’d get over it, that he’d forget it, and he was. Spider-Man helped him forget that he was is a bad person, but of course, Parker Luck won’t ever allow him to live normally.

Here he was in a different universethat is holding a neon sign with ‘YOU SUCK’ written in big bold letters on it.

Lucky him.

“Turn left, Peter.” Karen’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. When he does as instructed, he is met with a two-story building with bordered doors and windows, a roof that is held together by pure hopes and dreams, and withered walls that could collapse if you blew on them.

Yeah, it was definitely abandoned.

Judging by the red and brown theme, this place is rocking. This was either home to an emo teenager with daddy issues—the same one who named the city—or a fire station.

…

Probably the latter.

“We have reached the abandoned building.”

“I could tell, Karen,” He looks at the fire station and shudders internally, “but couldn’t you have picked a less creepy building? This place looks haunted.”

“That is precisely why I have chosen it, you are less likely to be found in a place like this.”

Karen does have a point, and his spider senses don’t seem to be acting up, so it was most likely safe enough.

“Thanks, Karen,” he mutters before starting to search for an entrance. He found a semi-open window on the building's back that he could crawl through to enter.

Or he could try to find an entrance on the roof, but risk someone spotting him.

Eh, the window is easier. He circles the place a couple of times just to make sure that nobody is watching him. When he is fairly certain that no one is, he sticks both hands on the wall and makes sure that his legs are secure enough so they don’t slip, then slowly climbs up towards the window.

He crawls through the window, staying as quiet as possible just in case anyone unwanted is within hearing range.

The place reeks of chemicals, the strong smell overwhelms his senses, he sits on the floor, taking deep breaths until his nose stops hurting, with one last deep breath, he gets up and starts exploring the place.

The inside isn’t impressive at all; it would’ve been completely empty if it wasn’t for the wooden boards scattered around the place, and he’s pretty sure he can hear mice somewhere in the building. Yay.

Aside from his new pest friends, he can’t hear anyone else inside the building.

Small mercies.

He spends the next few minutes exploring. He finds a bathroom that has running water—thank god!—, a mattress that is 100% infested with all sorts of bugs, so he will only resort to using it if the floor collapses under him, and even then, he’d rather sleep in the rubble.

He’d also found a fireman’s pole; he had always wanted to see one in real life. Mr. Stark had promised to take him after they had seen it in a movie together, and Peter asked him if they actually existed. They never went to see it.

According to his files, he had an uncle who was a volunteer firefighter. If he had never been kidnapped by Hydra, if his parents had never died, would his uncle have taken him to see one? Would he have been allowed to slide on it? Would he have turned out differently?

It’s pathetic how he gets all worked up over normal human things. A fireman's pole? So what if he’s never seen one? A lot of people have never even stepped foot in a fire station.

‘It's different,’ a voice in the back of his head that suspiciously sounds like Tony says, ‘you were stripped of a normal life.’

That’s because he wasn’t normal; he was a freak with spider powers. He doesn’t deserve a normal life.

‘You do, though’

He doesn’t.

‘Why? You’re a good person.’

He wasn’t.

‘says who?’

…shut up.

He has decided to ignore both the pole and the voice in his head.

Peter keeps exploring just so he can focus on doing anything other than listening to his inner monologue. He finds the stairs that lead to the first floor, but he decides to stay where he is because he can hear mice down there.

He may be a vigilante, but mice scare the shit out of him.

He finds a mouse-free, insect-free room to sleep in. It also has a window, so he has a way to escape if he ever needs it. He puts down his bag under this window and sits next to it. He eats one of the protein bars and mentally assesses his situation.

Pros: He has food, water, shelter, his phone, money, and knows where he is. He also has Karen.

Cons: He is still injured, not actively bleeding out, but still injured. He’s 10 years old. He’s a ‘meta’, and according to Wikipedia, Batman has a strict no meta rule. He’s in a different universe that is almost a decade in the past, and he is in a city with the highest crime rate ever.

‘One thing at a time, Peter,’ He hears Mr Stark's voice again, this time it’s laced with worry. ‘Deal with your injuries first, everything else can come later.’

Right.

He lifts his hoodie to find his waist wrapped in bandages with some blood seeping through them. So, multiverse magic did help with his injuries! Sure, it didn’t heal them, but it didn’t leave him bleeding out!

He doesn’t have a first aid kit on him, so he can’t unwrap the bandages to asses the damage, and reusing them was out of the question as they weren’t exactly…clean, for the lack of a better word.

He could clean them himself, but he wasn’t sure if there was enough water to do so.

He could buy some with the money he had, but was it worth it? He may need the money later to buy food or water, he had completed missions in a worse state before, and he did fight vulture after having an entire building fall on him, this was nothing.

‘That was when you were a teenager, you’re a kid now. Your endurance is lower.’

…you have a point, Mr Stark’s hallucination.

“Karen? Can you remind me to buy bandages tomorrow?” Peter still doesn’t think that getting bandages was worth it, but for some reason, the Mr. Stark voice in his head half convinced him. “Oh, and to find a cat.”

“Of course, Peter.”

“Thanks,” He replies, voice hoarse.

Now that this was done, he should get some sleep if he wants to explore this city more in the morning.

Peter puts his bag in the corner of the room to use as a pillow; it’s uncomfortable, sure, but better than the bug-infested mattress.

He closes his eyes, and for once in a long time, he falls into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Peter slept for a total of 2 hours before his brain decided that sleeping is its new mortal enemy.

Yay.

He’s currently lying on the floor, glaring at the ceiling like it's the reason he’s still awake, and contemplating whether jumping out the window would be a logical thing to do. His back hurts, his neck hurts, and his head feels like it's being hit repeatedly with Thor's hammer.

He has never met whoever was in charge of luck, and he doesn’t know what he did to piss them off, but he’d like it on record that he is sorry.

‘It’s not about luck.’ Mr Stark's voice rings in his mind ‘You’re injured, you haven’t eaten anything, and you were walking around for hours. You’re body is just tired.

“Respectfully, Mr Stark, I will choose to ignore you.” Peter groans. He turns to look at the window under which he’s sleeping. He can’t see the sky from the tiny opening the window has, shame, but he could just climb to the rooftop to stare at the sky as much as he wants, and he would get some fresh air instead of the stuffy, chemical-filled air he is currently breathing.

He would have to walk a couple of blocks down, though, because he doesn’t want to stay on the fire station's roof, just in case he’s spotted, so that no one would know his location.

And yeah sure, no one would be looking for him right now, he’s been in this universe less than 48 hours, if he managed to piss someone off in that time, even he would be impressed.

He pushes himself up, holding on to the window for support, and he opens it a little further and sticks his hand to the wall, so he can climb out of it without, you know, falling to his death.

He sticks his legs out and uses his other hand to grab his bag and semi-close the window. Slowly, he slides down the side of the building till his feet reach solid ground.

‘This is a horrible idea,’ Mr Stark says, his voice laced with concern. ‘You really shouldn’t be walking around at this hour, in a crime-filled city.’

It’ll be fine, what’s the worst thing that can happen?

Walking around wasn’t as bad as he had imagined it. Sure, the crimes were a bit over the top, but that meant that most people would be too distracted to worry about the fact that a literal child is walking around at this ungodly hour.

At some point, pseudo Mr Stark told him that he might as well get the bandages if he’s out anyway, and now he is looking around for a clinic, drug store, or any place that would sell bandages.

His headache got worse, his legs hurt, and he started seeing spots a few minutes ago, but does that stop him? Absolutely not.

He keeps walking, making random turns to avoid walking in on a crime, keeping his head low, his hood up. Sneaking around wasn’t hard as long as he stuck to the shadows.

The only reason he hadn’t asked Karen for help was that she would scold him for going out while injured after he hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and if he was being completely honest, Karen was terrifying when she needed to be.

‘Kid, you missed the drug store, turn back.’

Peter looks back at the alley he just passed through. He didn’t want to go back through it; he had watched a lot of horror movies to know that going through alleys was the equivalent of handing your soul to the grim reaper in bright red Christmas packaging.

He wasn’t scared; his spider senses were, though, so he was rightfully worried.

I could just find another drug store sooner or later. He thinks, already turning back to continue walking the other way.

‘You might not make it to another store, you already feel lightheaded, trust me.’

Yeah, well, he might not make it to the last one if he goes through that alley.

‘I would never willingly lead you to danger. Trust me on this, Peter.

First of all, you’re a hallucination of Mr Stark that his mind pathetically made up because Peter was lonely. Then again, he could probably take whatever was hiding in this alley; his spider senses weren’t screaming, they were mostly uncomfortable.

‘You’ve gotten soft.’ Peter flinches so hard he nearly falls, but the voice continues, ‘I did not train you to be frightened of a mere alleyway, pathetic.’

Peter covers his ears, his heart racing.

‘You really think that this futile attempt would send me away? You’ve lost your touch, winter spider.’

Peter closes his eyes, his back pressed against the wall, his breath speeding up. He keeps muttering ‘I’m not there’ under his breath.

‘Look at you, all vulnerable, even a child could beat you in this state.’

‘You call that a punch? Try harder.’

‘You actually think you can help people? You are a curse, a weapon, a monster created to destroy. You will lead all those around you to their doom.’

‘Play hero all you want, at the end of the day, you’ll always be trash that the Avengers took pity on’

Peter is curled up against the wall, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack in a random alley. His vision blurs, tears welling up in his eyes, and he bites his tongue to avoid making any noise that might alert someone to his location.

Suddenly, his ankle feels ticklish, he doesn’t pay attention to the feeling at first, until it keeps repeating, he lifts his head only to see a black kitten licking him, the cat rubs itself against his leg, purring softly.

He sniffles, reaching to pet the cat, who happily leans in, still purring.

He registers Karen's voice a moment later, “Peter, can you hear me?”

“...Yeah,” He whispers, a slight tremble in his voice.

“Can you name 5 things you can see?”

“..uh, a dumpster, this cat, graffiti, an old car, and my shoes?”

“Four things you can feel?” “The floor, the building I'm leaning on, and the cat”

“Three things you can hear?”

“People walking, you, and my own breath”

“Two things you can smell?”

“Sweage, and blood”

“Now, one thing you can taste?”

“Saliva?” Peter looks at the cat, its brown eyes staring back at him.

“Peter, why did you not inform me of your outing? You could've gotten hurt.” Here comes the lecture…

“... I forgot?” He replies sheepishly, letting the cat nibble on his finger.

Peter was fairly certain that if Karen had eyes, she would be rolling them right now.

“We shall discuss your reckless behaviour later. How are you feeling now?”

“Better.”

“That is good to hear, do you still want to wander around? Or do you want to go back?”

“I just wanna get the bandages and go back,” Peter says, sitting up. The cat moves to his lab, and Peter keeps petting it, trying to focus on one thing for now.

“Will your new friend be joining us?”

Peter looks at the cat, then back at the wall several times before answering, “Yeah, he will.”

“And what should we call him?”

He thinks about it for a moment before deciding that names are complicated.

“Cat, just cat, for now at least.” He grabs his bag, opening it and gesturing for Cat to go inside, which he does.

“Alright then, welcome, just cat.”

Peter laughs as he gets up, carefully putting the bag over his shoulder and walking out of the alley.

The trip to the drug store and back was uneventful; he spent 18$ on some bandages and hydrogen peroxide along with some pain killers, which in his opinion is insane. The cashier gave him a weird look before reluctantly handing over the stuff after taking the money.

He went back to the fire station, changed his bandages, and made a mental note to get a blanket of sorts for the cat.

Thankfully, his injuries weren’t infected; he had bled out a little, but it wasn’t life-threatening, so he wasn’t too worried.

He decided to sleep in a different room this time. Peter sat on the floor, with Just Cat sleeping peacefully beside him. he didn’t know what triggered his panic attack; he didn’t want to think about it for too long, but it still bothered him.

He sighed, leaning his head against the wall. This was proving to be more of a challenge than he thought, but he’ll be fine. He always was.