Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“—See, that’s the thing, Shen. Scars heal.

—No, they don’t. Wounds heal.

—Oh, yeah. What do scars do? They fade, I guess.”—Kung Fu Panda 2

✧ ✧ ✧

Ned was walking down the hall of the school when he heard it—a bit of shuffling around from the direction of the chemistry lab.

It was late enough for him to know the school was supposed to be almost entirely empty. The janitor was still around, and Cindy and Sally were still bickering back and forth about their last Decathlon question, but otherwise he was pretty sure the place was empty and hollow. It was afternoon—verging on evening. Why would anyone linger around?

With a self-conscious look over his shoulder, he made his way toward the door of the lab. The closer he got, the more certain he was that there was someone inside. He heard footsteps, quiet muttering, the clinking sound of someone stirring substances in a beaker, maybe. There was no light streaming from the small crack between the door and its frame, which made him think maybe stepping closer when he was by himself wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

Gripping the handle of the door with one hand and the strap of his backpack with the other, Ned braced himself, then flung the door open and stared into the room at the scene that was revealed to him.

The classroom was lit up by the light shining through the windows lining the far wall, the curtains pulled aside. One of the windows was open, letting in a soft breeze. There were half-erased equations on the whiteboard and a few torn-up papers on the floor that had shoeprints on them after getting trampled. From the shelves of a glass cabinet, taxidermy mounts stared at Ned.

Just like the masked figure that was frozen next to one of the desks, hand held halfway between the guy’s body and a beaker filled with some kind of white substance. The mask was red with reflective lenses over the eyes—ones that were seemingly staring straight into Ned’s soul. The figure had a worn backpack at his feet and other than the mask he was wearing street clothes. Granted, they looked like they were literally taken straight from a dumpster, but they were more normal than the mask. They also looked skimpy and too thin for the colder weather, but what did Ned know?

Ned’s lips parted in surprise, his hand squeezing the handle of the door more tightly. His eyes grew wide open as he stared at the figure that must have broken into the school, his heart beating erratically in his chest as his mind started racing, coming up with plans to call his parents, a teacher, the principal, the government. Maybe the military, he wasn’t sure.

And then the stillness snapped. The masked guy moved too quickly for Ned’s brain to comprehend it all properly. One moment he was still standing there, looking back at Ned like a deer caught in the headlights, and the next moment he was running toward the window with his backpack slung over one shoulder, the beaker falling off the table with a push and shattering against the ground, the substance inside soaking the floor.

“Wait—” Ned managed to choke out through the lump in his throat, but it was already too late.

Without looking back, the masked figure hopped out the open window and ducked out of sight.

Ned blinked owlishly at the window once, then sprinted toward it and leaned forward to squint outside. The sun was beginning to set so it was getting darker, but he could still clearly see there was no stain on the ground or a mangled body. The guy just… vanished. He was gone without a trace.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. There was still that white stuff on the floor and the shards of broken glass that crunched under Ned’s shoes as he approached the area cautiously, bent down and poked it tentatively with the stir rod the dude must have used before. It looked like nothing Ned had ever seen, some kind of liquid that seemed to slowly solidify and become more spongy and elastic the longer he stared at it.

And the more Ned observed this thing, the more he realized it did remind him of something. Albeit, what he had in mind had a firmer shape and was usually only seen from afar or in YouTube videos. He’s never seen it in the flesh, but he was certain this thing reminded him of… well, the webs that Spider-Man guy tended to use all the time.

He dropped the stir rod and hastily pulled out his phone. He opened a new tab and searched Spider-Man up. The screen instantly presented him with blurry photos and videos of the vigilante, taken by pedestrians, most likely. The moment he saw the red mask on his screen his fingers turned numb and he nearly dropped his phone.

That was him. The one who’d jumped out the classroom window was Spider-Man. Spider-Man with only his mask on, without his spandex suit. Spider-Man who was… making himself more webs? Well, apparently they weren’t organic then—one question answered, Ned supposed. But a bazillion more were swirling around his brain, making his head spin.

He exited the tab and let his finger hover over the phone app. He was supposed to call the police, right? Report a break in? Tell someone that there had been a shifty figure at the school, that someone had broken into Midtown to use its chem lab. That was the right thing to do, especially with all the warnings the police kept on spouting about Spider-Man and how dangerous he was.

Without second guessing himself too much, Ned turned off his phone’s screen, put it away and straightened up fully, his eyes blinking ahead unseeingly.

His gaze drifted toward the open window without his consent, as if waiting for the vigilante to return. Nothing happened. He was just standing there, alone, staring. The substance at his feet was soaking the soles of his shoes but it didn’t appear to cause any damage so Ned wasn’t in a hurry to get away from it.

Licking his lips, he hunched his shoulders, laced his fingers around the straps of his backpack tightly and resolutely walked out of the classroom and back out to the hallway.

“No one’s gonna believe me, anyway,” he muttered to himself as he walked toward the exit, only sending one last look over his shoulder.

✧ ✧ ✧

If anyone looked up at that moment, they would have seen a masked person in a dingy T-shirt and a pair of tattered jeans swinging down the streets while cursing at the wind that took his words and swallowed them up before any pedestrian could hear them. They’d be baffled for a moment, then realize this was probably Queen’s vigilante, Spider-Man, without his usual red and blue suit.

No one bothered looking up, though. Everyone was busy with their own things so a person swinging up high could go unnoticed for a while. It would have made Peter feel better, considering he wasn’t even wearing his suit, but all he could feel was frustration. At himself. For getting caught because of his ridiculously glitching powers. It didn’t matter that no one was looking at him because to him it felt like the entire world had its eyes on him.

That had been Ned Leeds. He was pretty sure of that. He could still vaguely remember going to Midtown with the guy, before his world collapsed all around him. Ned and he never really got close to each other. He was pretty sure they had a maximum of six conversations, all of them mainly about schoolwork. He didn’t know anything about the guy except that he attended Midtown and was a part of the school’s robotics club.

And now Peter also knew that he would be the reason why Spider-Man would be left without the power to synthesize any more web fluid. Ned’s probably already called the cops or one of his teachers to report the break in. They’d figure out it was Spider-Man. It’d never be safe for him to sneak into Midtown again from now on, and tomorrow’s newspapers would probably slander him for breaking and entering a school to steal from children.

God, why did his powers have to short-circuit right when he needed them? Why would his spider-sense take a backseat when Peter was trying to keep out of sight inside a school? It should have warned him of a person approaching the room. It should have picked up on the danger. His senses should have noticed the pattering footsteps and quiet breaths of another person in the hallway.

But he hasn’t eaten properly in almost a week, so could he really fault his powers? He knew they weren’t going to serve him properly when he wasn’t giving his body what it required to sustain itself, but he was hoping maybe things wouldn’t get that bad. Maybe… maybe his powers would still function just enough to get him out of tight spots. Which they were doing, of course, just… not well enough. He was still seen. By Ned Leeds.

Ugh!

His feet stumbled a little when he landed on a rooftop, skidding to a halt before leaning his hands on his thighs and taking in deep breaths. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to… to turn back time. To an hour ago, so Ned wouldn’t catch him. To half a year ago, so Gwen would still be alive and he’d be able to prevent her death. To several months before that, so he’d be able to save May… or maybe just to say a proper good-bye.

Instead, he just stood there and willed his stinging eyes to stay dry underneath his mask. Frustration welled up in him as he shut them tightly and stifled a scream. This really just happened. He just lost his most easily-accessed lab. Without it, how was he supposed to synthesize his webs? How was he supposed to keep being Spider-Man without that?

He could go to Mr. Osborn, he assumed. The man always offered Peter to use Oscorp labs to work on what he needed for his Spider-Man gig. But one look at Mr. Osborn was enough to let Peter know he would demand to also know the formula for the webbing, and Peter wasn’t ready to share that. It was his own creation, one of the only things that were still only his. He couldn’t pass it on to someone who’d probably use it to enlarge his company.

Then again, what other choice did he have?

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. “Seriously, Leeds, five more minutes. You couldn’t have passed by the chem lab five minutes later?”

Peter took one more moment, then he straightened up, unzipped his bag with a little too much force so that his zipper nearly disconnected, and pulled out his Spider-Man suit. He frowned down at it as he prepared himself to switch to it so swing properly around the city. Better no one saw him in his civilian clothes, no matter how generic they were. Besides, the suit was slightly warmer than his current clothes, which would be nice.

He started tugging off his shirt when his eyes landed on a tall building in his line of sight. It was getting darker all around him, but the building twinkled in the evening, especially its top and the circled, glowing letter adorning it. Avengers Tower, Peter thought sourly.

His last encounter with the Avengers hadn’t been the friendliest. It mostly consisted of him swinging erratically around the city in order to shake them off his tail and them chasing after him while trying to capture him for the government. They weren’t exactly on the best of terms, he knew. Not when the people at the top didn’t want Spider-Man around. Not when they couldn’t control him, more like.

Captain America’s shield had left bruises on Peter’s abdomen, Black Widow’s bites had made Peter’s skin prickle for an entire day afterward, Hawkeye’s arrow had grazed his side, Iron Man’s repulsor had nearly melded Peter’s suit into his body. That entire thing was a mess that Peter wasn’t all that eager to repeat, especially because fighting the Avengers felt profoundly wrong.

They were his heroes. He grew up adoring them. He’d been an Iron Man fan when he was a kid, and then the Avengers formed to save New York from that invasion and Peter could still remember bouncing on the sofa with Uncle Ben laughing while making sure he wouldn’t topple over in his excitement. The news had shown blurry and shaky footage of the fight and Peter had been glued to the screen, terrified and exhilarated.

And now these same people were chasing him, seeing him as an enemy instead of an ally or at least a harmless vigilante. Which was so unfair because nobody saw the government sending Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to collect Daredevil and bring him in for questioning. Or Deadpool. Although that may have had something to do with the guy being insane and basically already viewed as trouble that everyone had to keep a lookout for.

His hand absently came up to brush against his side, where he knew there used to be a blue mark on his skin from Cap’s shield slamming into him. His eyes kept on eyeing Avengers Tower, the fabric of his shirt slipping through his fingers as a thought numbly popped up in his head.

The Avengers basically owed him, right? They were going after him as if he was a villain and not a fellow enhanced—er—helper. They demanded answers, tests, information. Things Peter would have considered giving them had they approached him in a more civilized manner instead of attacking him immediately. They went about it the wrong way, so… every bit of damage caused by them was completely on them.

He couldn’t really ask for their medical help, obviously. But maybe he could… borrow some stuff. If he could get into Avengers Tower without getting caught and use the materials inside to make the web fluid he could no longer work on at Midtown…

It would certainly be less of a pain than asking Mr. Osborn for help.

And if he would get caught… well, he was already on the Avengers’ radar. Would it really change much? At least then they’d have a reason to hunt him down ruthlessly. And who was he to deny them of a proper reason when it was oh so convenient?

Okay, it was probably brash and stupid. He was most likely only doing it out of sheer spite and for all the wrong reasons. But nobody said Peter couldn’t have his moments of utter stupidity and lack of judgement, okay? He was allowed to do reckless things every once in a while, especially when success would be so sweet.

Moving resolutely, Peter shoved his Spider-Man costume and mask back into his backpack before zipping it shut and leaving it hidden at the corner of the roof. With a mixture of excitement, trepidation and anticipation bubbling inside of him, he determinedly turned to face Avengers Tower again with a small smile.

✧ ✧ ✧

Peter tossed the improvised signal disruptor in his hand and gave it one last contemplative look. He was crammed in a vent inside Avengers Tower, a little bit of light assisting him, slipping through the vent cover and its flaps. There wasn’t much light, granted, seeing as the lab below him was unoccupied right now.

This was probably a stupid idea. He could already feel his later regret building up inside his body. He knew sneaking into Avengers Tower would probably be his most imbecilic idea yet. This was more reckless and suicidal than fighting most criminals in this city. This whole tower was run by the smartest AI ever created—by Tony Stark. This was insane.

But Peter glanced down and saw the cabinet of materials in the lab and his resolve solidified as he braced himself. This had to be done. He needed more web fluid, and for that he needed to, unfortunately, steal. Stealing from the Avengers was just a bonus—plus, seeing a proper lab with his own two eyes would be the greatest thing in Peter’s life, he was sure of it.

He checked his cracked phone screen quickly. The first signal disruptor would stop working soon. Granted, its only purpose was to make sure Stark’s AI didn’t notice him crawling through his ventilation system, which seemed to be working. So he knew the makeshift invention worked, but he also knew its life expectancy wasn’t very high. He’d have a mere several minutes to get in, make his web fluid and sneak back out. This had to be precise and hurried if he didn’t want Iron Man to come bursting in with his repulsor aimed at his chest.

Taking in a deep breath, Peter activated the second disruptor. It wasn’t pretty—just a bunch of scrap metal and parts he could find in the trash. Still, it would give him some time—as long as he didn’t step right in the AI’s line of sight.

“Don’t fail me now, spider-sense,” he muttered to himself before he opened the grille and slipped down to the floor carefully, mindfully evading the spots in the room where his sixth sense was warning him of cameras.

Putting the disruptor on one of the desks, Peter looked up and smiled in awe.

Messy desks littered with pieces of tech and random inventions, machines standing in the corners, quiet for now, tons of tools and materials to work with lining the tables and cabinets all over the room. There were holographic displays that were left unattended, still open on blueprints Peter nearly drooled over as he forced himself to tear his eyes away before he lost himself in his wonder.

Tony Stark’s lab. He was inside Tony Stark’s lab.

This was the greatest, most terrifying day of his life.

He regretfully shook himself and jumped into action. He had no idea where everything was so he needed to make this thing quickly if he wanted to succeed. He opened cabinet doors, acquired an empty beaker and started mixing things together while keeping an eye on the clock. If he messed up the formula, it could get really messy, then Stark would find this mess—either with Peter in it or not—and know exactly what was happening. Which would be bad.

All the while, he made sure to keep out of the cameras’ range. He managed to cancel out some of the AI’s sensors, sure, but not all of them. And with the cameras still being turned on, Peter knew he had to be incredibly agile to avoid being seen and spotted by FRIDAY because then he’d have Stark on him, too. This was all very risky. Probably too risky.

Was it wrong of Peter to find this exhilarating?

Peter mixed everything together, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. He kept on glancing over his shoulder toward the door to make sure nobody was sneaking up on him again. One time a day was enough, in his opinion. He didn’t feel like being jumped by Iron Man as well. But no one was coming, the lab remained relatively dark and quiet and Peter just kept on working alone against the clock.

Another glance toward his phone let him know he had about a minute before the disruptor stopped working.

Turning back to the beaker, he frowned in concentration and stirred it some more before deciding it was ready. He gulped, opened up one of his web canisters and started carefully pouring in some of the web fluid. Once it was full to the brim, Peter put it back in place and contemplated testing it out by shooting a web. But the idea of FRIDAY spotting it and letting Stark know dissuaded him quickly. He’d test it out later, once he was out of this lab.

Quickly filling up all of the other empty canisters he had, Peter emptied the beaker, sweat gathering on his forehead as he kept on glancing between his creation and the ticking clock. He had to hurry, he didn’t have time. He was nearly done—

His spider-sense spiked at once.

“Unauthorized person detected,” a female voice resonated around him.

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The disruptor ran out of juice, then. The AI’s sensors were back to full capacity, clearly detecting him even without her cameras. He cursed under his breath and tipped a beaker just a tad bit more to empty the last of it into the web canister. Once he was done, he put the beaker back on the table and looked around in a panic.

He could jump out the window—he had his webs to catch him, after all—but he figured letting Stark know the presence in his lab had been Spider-Man would be a stupid thing to do. It would just make him want to come after him even more. No, there was a reason Peter showed up without his costume on. While Spider-Man was a public menace, Peter Parker was a nobody, a ghost, someone you’d look right through in a crowd. Which was exactly what he needed after breaking into one of the most high-tech companies in the world.

Out the vents it was, then. This time the AI would be able to follow him, of course, but at least he’d be able to get out of there. He knew which way to go, and the moment he’d get out of the tower, he’d be able to swing away without Stark ever knowing where he’d gone.

He carefully maneuvered around the cameras, making his way back to the vent grille. The moment he was underneath it, his spider-sense warned him again, making the back of his head itch relentlessly. Without thinking about it too hard, he jumped onto the ceiling, sticking to it with his fingertips and feet, and not a moment too late.

The door slid open, the lights turning on immediately to welcome in a bewildered-looking Tony Stark. The man had some marinera sauce smeared around his mouth, so he was probably alerted to Peter’s presence while eating dinner. His eyes scanned the room quickly, bemused and on edge.

Peter held his breath as he cautiously moved forward, crawling into the vent without making a sound. He was counting on people’s lack of reason to look upward while searching for intruders. Most people couldn’t cling to walls or ceilings, after all. Peter was special like that. Stark’s lack of a reaction let him know he really was slipping away without being spotted.

“FRI, where are they? You got eyes on the intruder?” he said.

“My cameras didn’t catch anything, boss, but there’s someone in the ventilation system above the room. I don’t have surveillance there.”

“Wait, in the vents? Barton, if this is you, I’m going to ban you from ever setting foot in my tower, you piece of—why is there a piece of junk on my desk, FRIDAY?”

Peter was just about to turn tail and run before Stark decided to somehow climb into the vents himself, but the sound of the words made his blood freeze in his veins as he sent a look through the vent flaps and into the lab below. He didn’t need to search long—his eyes immediately locked on the machine left on one of the desks, which Stark was now approaching and eyeing warily.

He forgot to pick up his signal disruptor!

“This is a low-level si—”

“Signal disruptor,” Stark cut her off. A crease formed on his face as he picked it up for inspection. “Which was clearly made very poorly, mind you. What is this—a microwave inverter? Ho-ho-ho, a phone battery. Don’t tell me this piece of garbage managed to interfere with your signal, FRIDAY. I’ll never be able to live it down.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Well, shit.”

Peter smirked and crawled away silently.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Come on, man, let me outta here!”

“Dude, I’m dialing here.”

“That’s my phone, you jerk!”

“Yeah, yeah, can you just be quiet for five seconds? I’m on the phone.”

“I don’t give a—”

Peter webbed up the man’s mouth and put a gloved finger to his lips. “Shush. You’re being rude. Yes, um, hello? Hi, yes, I just webbed up this dude who was trying to steal from Domino’s across the street. He has a gun and everything. Yeah, yup, ah-huh.”

The webbed guy and Peter listened as the woman on the phone basically cursed Peter up and down while also obviously dispatching cops over and warning them about Spider-Man’s involvement in the situation. The thug’s inability to speak didn’t quite disguise his obvious disdain and slight bafflement at the sound of the woman insulting Peter when he was the one who’d stopped the robbery.

Peter himself just hummed and let her go on politely. His stomach churned pitifully, yearning for food, but he ignored it in favor of focusing on the phone call. He could see some people staring at him through the window of the Domino’s shop across the street. One teenager was filming him with his phone so Peter waved at him friendly. It made the kid’s smile brighten. The owner of the place was also looking at Peter and the thug, his shoulders now slumped down with relief.

“Sure, sure, yeah, scum. I know. Wow, you have a very creative mind, ma’am. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Sorry, I know this is the highlight of your day and everything, but I have so many other people who are just waiting to curse the day I was born, you can’t hog me all to yourself. So I’m just gonna—yes, I know, I know, you think I’m the worst. What was that about my grandma? I’ll have you know Spider Granny was a lovely lady. Yeah, all right, I’ll just… bye.”

He hung up, the woman still cussing him out on the other end of the line.

Putting the phone back in the thug’s pants pocket, Peter lightly said, “She says the police will be here soon. Very sweet lady, she was.”

The guy stared at him like Peter was suffering from brain damage.

“And on this tone, I’m gonna bid you farewell, good sir. Maybe take a good look at your life, make better choices in the future. ‘Cause, gotta say, stealing money from a pizza place is kind of pathetic. Not the best option out there. Could’ve maybe scored a job there before you tried to rob the place, you know.”

He swung away before the thug could try to speak through the webs blocking his mouth. And, more importantly, he left before the police arrived. The last thing he needed was for more officers to point their guns at him rather than the literal criminal. He got shot once. It wasn’t as fun as it sounded.

Ignoring the chill in the air, Peter quickly made his way toward a newsstand he was familiar with. The vendor there was named Dylan Moore. Peter dropped by his stand so many times, the guy barely batted an eye at his frequent appearances anymore. He never had anything against Spidey, at least, unlike more than half the city, the police force, the army, the government, the freaking Avengers…

Anyway, Moore was a nice change of pace. Although he was probably more than a little sick of having Spidey drop in on him on a daily basis this week. And Peter couldn’t really explain why he was checking the news so many times like that without admitting to him that he’d broken into a high school and a famous tech company, both of which he figured would appear on the news sooner rather than later.

He landed on a lamp post above the newsstand, then used a web to lower himself upside down toward the bored Moore who was sitting and scrolling through his phone absently.

“Hey, sir!” Peter said chirpily.

Moore startled and fumbled with his phone before it clattered to the ground. He sent Peter an annoyed look before bending down to pick the device back up. The moment he straightened up, he pointed at Peter and said with deadly seriousness: “I’m starting to understand why Jameson calls you a menace.”

“And here I thought you might actually be on my side,” said Peter in mock offense. He craned his head to read the headlines of the newspapers. “Anything interesting reported lately?”

“Not much has changed, no,” said Moore wryly. “Are you expecting another alien invasion soon or something? Is there a supervillain we’re not aware of yet?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Besides, the big leagues can deal with the major stuff, they don’t need me for that. I’m actually one hundred percent sure the Avengers would rather let the aliens take me with them back to their home turf than let me join the fight against them. You may have missed it, but we’re not on the best of terms.”

Moore scratched his beard. “You don’t say.”

“I know, it’s tragic. Who wouldn’t want to work with me, right? I’m a delight.”

“Sure, man. You do realize it’s a red flag when the world’s heroes are viewing you as a threat, right?”

Peter huffed. “What do they know? They nearly nuked New York.”

Moore conceded with a shrug.

“So there’s nothing new? Nothing, say, about little ol’ me?” pressed Peter.

The man shook his head and turned back to his phone. “Says you’re as much of a pest as you were last week and the week before that. Jameson blames you for that bomb in the subway, too.”

“That was Doom!” exclaimed Peter in exasperation. “I swear, that picklepuss will blame me for the ice age if he could somehow spin that story. Next week you’ll be reading about me starting world war three or something. But hey, at least I’ll be famous, I guess.”

The moment was interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing. The song Gone, Gone, Gone started playing, drawing Moore’s curious gaze away from his screen and toward Peter, who reached into a pocket in his suit to pull out his phone and grimace at the ID of the caller. Which wasn’t really a surprise because only one person ever really called him. No one else had his number.

“Er… hang on.” He climbed back up to crouch on the lamp post, then accepted the call and said, “Heya, Mr. Osborn!”

“Peter, I need to talk to you. Come to Oscorp.”

Peter glanced down and noticed Moore still watching him from below with raised eyebrows and his head tipped slightly to the side.

“Um… like, right this second? ‘Cause I was planning on continuing my patrol a little bit before—”

“Yes, now,” said Mr. Osborn.

Cringing and stifling a sigh, Peter forced his voice to remain light as he said, “Sure thing. I’ll be there in five, sir.”

“The boss summons you?” said Moore the moment Peter ended the call.

“He’s not my boss. Spider-Man doesn’t have a boss. I’m a free-spirited vigilante, thank you very much.”

“Could’ve fooled me, dude.”

Not having any type of reply, Peter just shot out a web and swung out of there in the direction of Oscorp.

Chapter Text

Norman Osborn’s office was at the top of the Oscorp building. His desk was stationed right in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window that watches over the city of New York, bringing in natural sunlight. It never helped Peter’s feeling regarding the place, though. It still felt cold and unwelcoming. He sort of imagined a coffin would feel just as stifling, although he was smart enough not to say such a thing to the man’s face.

Frankly, he was still not sure how in the world he ended up being all chummy-chummy with Mr. Osborn. The spider that had given him his powers was an experiment of the man’s company, sure, and so the following days of Peter’s horrible sickness had been closely monitored by his people to—er—compensate for all the trouble. Which then led to Mr. Osborn easily making the connection between Peter Parker and that new vigilante, Spider-Man.

He's asked Peter multiple times to let him help with the vigilantism gig. He’d basically wanted to throw his money at Peter, and the boy’s reply was a refusal. He’d appreciated the offer, but didn’t want or need help. He was doing just fine. Especially when it felt like accepting such help felt like tying himself with strings to the man, which he wasn’t all too fond of.

Mr. Osborn had offered his help again after Aunt May’s death. Peter had refused again, but he was tempted—if only for a moment—to say yes. With the grief weighing him down, Peter had felt like help would be slightly more appreciated. But he had Gwen to lean on. She even lied to everyone when people started asking where Peter had disappeared off to. He’d told her that he didn’t want CPS to place him somewhere, so she let him stay at her place in secret, hiding him from her own parents, as well.

And then… then that lunatic had shown up and killed her. Peter’s resolve dissolved after that. He couldn’t save his aunt, he couldn’t save Gwen. He didn’t want this streak to continue, didn’t want to go back as Spider-Man with the knowledge that people could easily slip through his fingers and die because he was stupidly too stubborn to accept a kind man’s help. So when Mr. Osborn came to him again, he’d said yes.

Now he wasn’t so sure he’d made the right decision. Mr. Osborn helped him with whatever he asked, but something about him put Peter on edge and made him feel like he was requesting a loan that he’d have to pay the man back, and he couldn’t afford to. So he tried to ask for as little as possible, usually only seeing Mr. Osborn if the man requested it. It was fine. He was fine with dropping by Oscorp from time to time. Even if this office made him feel like he was going to be buried alive.

“Peter,” Mr. Osborn welcomed him with a smile the moment Peter stepped into the room. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Not like he was given much of a choice, Peter thought to himself, but he just offered the man behind the desk a polite smile and a nod as he stepped further into the room, the door closing behind his back quietly.

“Did something happen, sir?” he asked. “You sounded urgent on the phone.”

“I heard you’re asking around about that freak again.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m just doing my thing.”

“There are videos of you capturing gang members and asking them if they know—”

“I’m doing my thing and sometimes also trying to do a bit of detective work,” he amended.

Mr. Osborn frowned, his fingers interlacing under his chin as he gave Peter a contemplative look. “I told you to back off that case. Last time you fought him—” he sighed and Peter tensed. “Sorry, I know it’s a sensitive matter. I’m just worried about you, Peter. You’re not like those superhero teams. You don’t have anyone to watch your back. If you get in over your head, you’ll be gone.”

Which Mr. Osborn wouldn’t want because Peter was his creation—the only one who’d been successfully impacted by that messed-up spider. He never outright told Peter that, but it was kind of obvious Mr. Osborn was afraid his only functioning test subject would die on the job as Spider-Man. Which in turn made him scold Peter for every single fight he picked with people who were too much for him to handle. According to him, at least.

Still, Peter didn’t comment on any of that.

“I’m just… asking. It’s not like I’m chasing him down or anything. I’m looking, figuring stuff out. That guy’s still out there and he’s dangerous. You said so yourself, he’s completely mad. Someone has to take him out before someone else gets hurt.” His voice cracked. “I’m just… trying to help.”

“You can’t go after him when you find him,” said Mr. Osborn.

“I’m stronger than I was before.”

The man nodded grimly. “I’m willing to bet he’s stronger, too.”

Silence enveloped them both as Peter let the words sink in and dampen his hope. He wished he could counter Mr. Osborn’s claim, but he knew it was probably true. The guy hasn’t been seen since Gwen’s death, but that didn’t really mean he was gone for good, nor did it mean he wasn’t working on becoming stronger. Which would be very problematic since Peter hadn’t even been strong enough to face him the first time around.

“Peter,” Mr. Osborn pressed.

“I have to find him, sir. I… I have to. I can’t just let him roam free in the city. This can’t happen again.”

The man sent a look toward the screen of his computer. “Well, I have a meeting in an hour. Tony Stark is going to be there. I’m sure I can ask him what the Avengers plan to do about this. Then it would be their problem and you won’t have to worry about this any longer.”

“But—but the Avengers didn’t even care about him when he first showed up! Why would they try to hunt him down now, when the trail is cold? Stark won’t do anything about it. You said so yourself, talking to him’s like talking to a brick wall. He’s never going to get the team to search the city. Sir, this is my fight—”

“No, it’s not. I forbid you to look into this any more. I’m going to bring it up with Stark and he’s going to either accept the responsibility or shove it onto the Fantastic Four. Either way, someone will be on it. Case closed.”

“But—”

“My main concern here, Peter, is keeping you alive and well,” said Mr. Osborn gravely, “and if that means I need to prevent you from going after psychotic elves, you can be sure I’ll do it however I can. This is why I’m helping you, Peter, you know that. Nothing comes for free. I give you what you need to make it out alive out there, and you need to listen to me and heed my warnings.”

“I don’t—”

“Try to put yourself in my shoes here, Peter. If you die out there, under my watch, you will be my responsibility. How do you think I’d feel with your blood on my hands? Trust me, this is for your own good. I’m not brushing the issue under the rug here. I’m just passing it on to someone who’s not under my jurisdiction. Do you understand? You dying is just not an option here.”

Peter exhaled slowly, pushing down on his anger. He wanted to fight back, ignore Mr. Osborn’s claims and move on with his investigation, but he had to admit he would’ve felt pretty much awful if someone he looked out for went out there and risked their lives or died without him being able to do anything to stop it. It showed the man cared about him, no matter what his reasoning was.

Craning his head back, Peter glanced up at the gray ceiling and mutely nodded, his lips pressed together in a tight line. He couldn’t bring himself to vocalize his agreement. A part of him was still hoping he’d stumble upon that psycho, that he’d get his chance to take him down once and for all, despite Mr. Osborn objecting it.

“Good,” said Mr. Osborn, his shoulders sagging down as his voice thawed a little. “Now, is there anything you might need? I know you haven’t asked for money the last few times. I wonder how you’re doing without it.”

“I’m doing this thing… I, um, there’s this side gig. It’s… it’s not really important,” said Peter. “But I get money from it so I’m doing all right. Thank you, sir. You don’t need to give me anything.”

“Your gear all works okay, I’m going to assume? The webs? The police scanner? All functioning properly? Nothing needs maintenance?”

Peter smiled. “No, everything’s good.”

“And that—the voice modulator? The lenses?”

“Everything’s working perfectly fine, Mr. Osborn. Thank you.”

“Remember, if you get hurt, come here for medical treatment, Peter. The door is always open for you. The staff knows Spider-Man is a friend. You will always be welcome here.”

His smile strained a little. “Yes, sir. Thank you for everything. I need to… I need to go. I have someplace to be.”

“No more asking around about—”

“Got it.”

Peter fled the room before Mr. Osborn could say anything else.

✧ ✧ ✧

Tony was bored out of his mind. He swirled the glass of whiskey in his hand as he lazily looked at the people sitting at the lunch table, all of them puffing up their chests as if they had something to prove. Which already made Tony’s opinion about them descend.

God, he hated talking to the owners of competitive businesses. Alas, Pepper tended to force him to do things he didn’t like to do, which was something he ought to work on with her. This was unacceptable. Long term, at least. He could deal with a meeting here, a conference there. But if she was planning on this happening all the goddamn time, Tony would have to rebel against it.

The only one around here who Tony somewhat respected was Reed Richards, and he looked just as uncomfortable and weary as Tony felt. Although he was doing a much better job of listening to the others’ conversations around the table and looking genuinely interested. Tony could almost hear Pepper’s voice telling him to sit up straight and follow Richards’s lead. He swiftly ignored that inner voice in favor of taking a sip from his drink.

“Tony, you could look a little less disinterested, you know,” said Hammer.

“Oh, but then how would you be able to tell my distaste for this ordeal?” he shot back. “Believe it or not, I have much more pressing matters to attend to. Eating lunch with the dullest people on earth was never really supposed to be a part of my agenda today. Unfortunately, Pepper made sure this was out of my hands. Just be glad I’m here.”

Osborn quirked an eyebrow at him. “Avengers matters on your mind, I presume?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Norman.”

“Yes, I would. I’m sure a lot of people around the city wonder what you’re planning to do with the threat still lurking around this city.” The man frowned and stabbed a piece of steak with his fork. “We all know the Green Goblin is still out there. Is your team figuring out a way to take him out or are you just letting him roam around freely even after his last sighting was followed by the death of an innocent bystander?”

Tony set his whiskey glass on the table and shifted in his chair. “That maniac hasn’t been seen in months. If he’s still around, we’ll go after him. And if not, we’ll let the matter drop. We can’t follow a ghost, as I’m sure you know.”

“Right now it looks more like you’re focusing on Spider-Man instead of the actual threats to this city.”

“You don’t consider Spider-Man a threat? A vigilante no one knows the identity of? We don’t know where he came from, how he gained his powers. That’s a rather big unknown. And his powers are… baffling. I would know, I’ve studied him more than a bit. Did you know he seems to have some sort of—of precognition? It’s fascinating, really. Makes me wonder who created him and for what purpose, though.”

“He’s pulling cats out of trees,” dismissed Osborn.

Hammer nodded. “He doesn’t exactly look like he can be considered a threat to anyone. He’s—he’s essentially a nobody.” He let out a little laugh. “Hell, I’m pretty sure that devil from Harlem is more intimidating.”

“But we know who he is, how he became what he is today. Which means we can keep an eye on him. Spider-Man… the guy knows what he’s doing, yet he looks like a toddler who’s never received any combat experience whatsoever. He has a secret identity and he knows how to keep it hidden from everyone else. This is considered a risk and we need answers. Until we know more about him, we have to view him as a threat and bring him in. Unlike someone who’s not even around.”

He threw a look toward Osborn again. The man straightened his tie and cleared his throat but didn’t say anything to defend himself there.

“I don’t know,” commented Richards. “I obviously don’t know Spider-Man, but Johnny seems to trust him. He says he doesn’t know who the guy under the mask is, but they talk sometimes. Heard they stumbled upon each other from time to time and hit it off. He is a bit skittish, though.”

Tony would know. Spider-Man’s been his main concern over the last couple of months. And he still couldn’t find out who the guy was. It was like his civilian self simply didn’t exist. Like the guy under the mask left no traces behind, no breadcrumbs to follow. It was incredibly frustrating, hitting dead ends again and again. And Tony got the feeling the vigilante could feel the cameras spread around the city with his… precognition power. It was the only explanation as to how he could so easily slip past them, undetected. Otherwise Tony was certain he would have already had at least a face to work with.

The conversation around him continued, but Tony’s thoughts drifted back to the break in to his office the previous week. He still had that piece of junk the intruder had used to get past FRIDAY without Tony being alerted. It was such an insulting invention, made out of what Tony assumed to be trashed parts. He had to keep it. He had no idea why someone would be desperate enough to gather scraps to steal something from him specifically, but he was determined to find out who it was and, hopefully, why.

At least he knew what went missing, although FRIDAY had no idea what could be created with the missing substances. And there was nothing left of the formula in the beaker that had been left on his desk that day. No, the only memento Tony received from that incident was a crappy signal disruptor and a massive headache. He couldn’t even find the guy’s features popping up in FRIDAY’s surveillance feed because he managed to stay out of frame the entire time he was in the tower.

There were a few words recorded by FRIDAY, uttered by that guy—which was how Tony knew he was, in fact, male. But the voice meant nothing to Tony. It sounded young, sure, but other than that… he had nothing to go off of, so he was stuck.

Okay, so maybe Tony was a tad bit impressed. But he was mainly annoyed. Yes, quite annoyed.

✧ ✧ ✧

Peter was pretty sure it was a terrible idea, but he decided to risk it and go back to Midtown. Not to use one of the school’s labs this time around—he wasn’t ready to try and use more school supply when someone had seen him there just a week prior to that—but to… hang out. Sort of. He just swung over to the place and tentatively sat down on the roof.

He remained rigid for at least five minutes before his limbs thawed. He was all by himself, no one was coming for him. So he leaned back until he was lying on the concrete, facing the sky above and thanking the mask on his face that prevented the rays of sun from burning his eyes to crisps. The moment clouds blocked its view, he breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes to better enjoy the peace.

His stomach protested, once again yearning for food. Peter sighed and let his hand rest over it, willing it to just shut up and stop aching. He knew he needed to eat. He was hungry. He hasn’t eaten more than a bit of leftovers he managed to scavenge from the trash in almost two days. His metabolism needed so much more than a couple of sliced vegetables, but there was nothing he could do.

“I’m selling the photos tomorrow,” he muttered to his stomach. “Then I’ll have some money to spare. Just shut up for now.”

His stomach gurgled again.

Peter groaned and covered his eyes with his other hand.

At some point he must have drifted off because the next time Peter opened his eyes, the sun’s location was further along its course and there was a rattling sound behind him as someone twisted the doorknob in order to reach the school’s roof. The sound must have been why Peter was woken up.

Sitting up sharply, he tensed and moved to get up and run toward the edge of the roof when the awed call of “Holy shit!” came from behind him. He froze for a second, then slowly turned around to find Ned Leeds standing there, once more gawping at Peter like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“You’re—you’re Spider-Man!” whispered Ned.

Peter sprang to his feet and hurried toward the roof’s edge, already holding out his hand to shoot out a web and swing away.

“No, wait! Wait, wait, wait! Dude, don’t leave! Sorry, I interrupted your, like, naptime. I was kind of—sort of—looking for you. Like, I saw you here once, figured you might come back at some point. Looks like I was right, huh? That’s awesome! You, er, might not remember me. I saw you? Like, last week? In the chem lab. You were… were working on this thing. I think it was supposed to be whatever it is you use to make your webs! Which is also awesome, by the way! So cool!”

Peter blinked slowly, his hand dropping by his side slowly as he turned to look at Ned owlishly. The boy talked… so much, so quickly. He looked genuinely ecstatic to find Peter on the school’s roof again, like this was a dream come true. All right, then. Maybe he wasn’t a Spidey hater. That was good to know, if not a small mercy.

“Wow, I honestly just can’t believe you come here. Like, of all the places in Queens, Spider-Man comes to my school? What are the chances? That’s so amazing, dude! I mean, the Avengers are gonna come here, like, later this week. But it’s not the same because I’m pretty sure they have to. And you choose to do it. This is so awesome. Dude, is your home nearby or something? Is this just a good spot to watch over the borough from? Am I talking too much? I feel like I am. I’m so sorry, Mr. Spider-Man. I just… I’m a huge fan! Like, bigger than huge.”

With a frown, Peter tilted his head to the side and asked, “The Avengers are coming here?”

Ned gasped and covered his mouth with both hands. “Spider-Man is talking to me, oh my gosh!”

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled his feet.

The boy shook himself. “Sorry! I mean, um, yes. They’re supposed to come here this Thursday. I heard they’re going around schools in the city to talk about, like, how we should behave now that the city is infested with these all-powerful people—I mean, not in a bad way! I think it’s great! Cool! You’re all extremely cool! I wish I had superpowers and could go around, fighting bad guys and… and helping ducks cross the road.”

“That video is still going around?”

“It’s adorable! That moment when the mama duck quacked at you—”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “They were adorable.”

“They so were!” agreed Ned enthusiastically. He was quiet for a split moment, then thrust out his hand with the biggest smile on his face. “I’m Ned Leeds, by the way.”

Smiling to himself, Peter shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, dude. And I’m guessing you haven’t told anyone about, um, finding me here last week?” At Ned’s excited nod, Peter sincerely added, “Thank you for that. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to come back here after that. It would’ve sucked, for sure.”

For a moment Ned seemed to hesitate, then he blurted out, “Why’d you use the school lab to synthesize your webs?”

Peter didn’t say anything, just rubbed the hand he’d shaken Ned’s hand with.

Ned let out an awkward chuckle. “Okay, cool, you don’t… need to tell me anything. Obviously. Who am I? I’m… a nobody. You don’t know me. Like, seriously, I’m a nobody. I’m pretty sure people can see right through me when I walk down the hallways. Flash once tried to literally walked through me. He thought it would be funny, I think? I don’t know, people did laugh. I guess it was.”

“You’re not invisible,” said Peter.

The boy grinned. “Thanks, Mr. Spider-Man!”

“It’s just Spider-Man… or Spidey. The formality really… it’s not necessary. Makes me feel old.”

“I can’t believe you’re talking to me,” Ned breathed out.

Honestly, neither could Peter. This was not what he expected this day to look like. He figured he’d rest here a bit, then head back out there to fight crime and evade the police. Instead, he was standing on the school’s roof with his old classmate staring at him with awe and admiration twinkling in his eyes. It was unsettling.

He was saved by the bell. Like… literally, the bell. The sound of it made Ned jump and look back toward the door leading back into the school building. He shifted from foot to foot as he hesitated, glancing at Peter again like he wanted to commit him to memory in case this was their last interaction. Which… it probably would be.

“It was an honor meeting you, Mr. Sp—I mean, Spidey,” said Ned. “If you ever need anything, I’ll be happy to help. Um, assist. Like, I can hack stuff, maybe. I’m decent with lines of code, you know? That’s what my teacher says, anyway. This probably sounds so lame—”

“Thanks, man. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ned’s eyes lit up at Peter’s lack of dismissal. His pure joy made Peter’s chest warm a little as he smiled. Talking to someone who was so different than Mr. Osborn was like a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t believe it’s taken him this long to interact with someone else when it didn’t involve any type of dangerous situation. They were just two people standing on a roof.

“Awesome,” muttered Ned, eyes raking over Peter’s costumed body again. “I’m gonna check this rooftop every single day from now on. No way am I missing Spider-Man showing up ever again. I mean… if you don’t mind. I can… not do that if it’d bother you, you know.”

“I don’t know that I’ll come back here,” said Peter warily.

“Of course!” Ned’s head bobbed up and down. “But, like, in case you do.”

“Er… sure.”

Ned beamed at him before turning around and leaving with a wave and an enthusiastic good-bye thrown at Peter over his shoulder. The moment he was gone and the door slammed shut behind him, Peter found himself surrounded by silence again, his body unmoving as he stared at the closed door leading into the school.

He just had a conversation with someone his age. Someone who treated him like a hero rather than a vermin. It felt nice. He… he missed this feeling. He missed interacting with people who didn’t want something from him. This didn’t feel like talking to someone who nearly got roughed up by thugs. This didn’t feel like talking to a criminal. It certainly didn’t feel like talking to Mr. Osborn.

This was… almost normal. The hero worship kind of made sure Peter couldn’t completely relax, but it was still the most normal conversation he’s had since… since Gwen.

His shoulders slumped at the memory of her and he tried to ignore the stinging feeling in his eyes as he batted them quickly and tried to focus on the horizon and the city spread before him. His beautiful, messy city that hid a murderer within it. He held himself back from looking in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge. He was already past the point of never-getting-close-or-passing-through-it, but it was still a sore subject.

“The Avengers are gonna come here,” he told himself in an attempt to focus on something that would take his mind off his ghosts. “Come and talk to everyone about mutants or… enhanced individuals? Sounds like fun.”

Should he tell Mr. Osborn about this? He wasn’t sure it was really any of his concern. The man helped Spider-Man, but the Avengers touring schools wasn’t something he would find interesting. Probably. Especially when they weren’t talking about Spidey specifically—only the matter of enhanced beings in general. Which was… not something Mr. Osborn needed to be alerted about.

He started pacing back and forth, casting his gaze over the city every now and then, as if expecting the Avengers to show up at Midtown now rather than later that week to fight him again. His mind was racing as he bit the inside of his cheek and kicked the dirt at his feet in frustration.

On the one hand, Peter should stay as far away from the Avengers as humanly possible. They didn’t like him. That message came across perfectly loudly; crystal clear. Peter got it. After being knocked out of the sky by different weapons and just barely managing to scramble out of sight of a group of mighty warriors, he was forced to admit he wasn’t the Avengers’ favorite vigilante.

Plus, breaking into Stark’s lab had been a big risk already. He didn’t need to pull anything like that again. He felt extremely lucky, knowing he could have easily gotten caught by the man. Then one thing would’ve led to another and… surely he would have realized Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Peter wasn’t exactly a good liar, he knew that. Stark would have been on to him in five minutes flat.

On the other hand, if the Avengers were showing up at his home turf, it was the perfect opportunity for Peter to slip in and see what they were up to. Call him crazy, but enhanced people around New York were kind of important to him. It was a matter he found incredibly relatable—go figure. He didn’t want to miss out on hearing what they had to tell Midtown about it. What if it gave him some kind of insight? What if it helped him sometime down the line?

His stomach churned once more and a colder breeze brushed against Peter’s limbs, making him shiver lightly. He wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm and glared down at his abdomen.

“Come on, I thought we had an agreement,” he chided it.

His stomach growled hungrily.

“I don’t have any food yet!”

Another loud protest.

He wanted to cry in frustration. He was hungry, cold and all alone. He could head back over to Oscorp, tell Mr. Osborn he actually would very much like some help. Maybe a little bit of money, just enough to allow him to sustain himself another day. But once more his brain immediately protested. Or maybe it was his pride. He couldn’t handle standing there, begging for money from a man who’d hand it over with a smile that promised Peter would somehow pay back for everything he was asking for right now.

This wasn’t fair! He wanted to be able to go back home to Aunt May’s cooked meals—no matter how horrendous they were. He wanted to be able to visit Gwen’s house again, where she’d introduce him to new types of food he’s never tasted before; things he wasn’t particularly fond of, but he’d eat them all to make her smile at him in this way that made her entire face light up like a Christmas tree.

Instead of letting the tears slip out, Peter found himself kicking the edge of the roof. A chunk of cement was knocked loose and fell to the ground far below, emanating a loud thud that made Peter freeze before he leaned over to see what the damage was. He was relieved to see there was nobody crushed under the cement, but he was still upset with himself for getting this worked up over nothing.

Taking in a measured breath, Peter shot out a web and quickly put distance between him and the school. The last thing he needed was for someone to realize Spider-Man damaged a high school building, no matter how minor the damage actually was.

“All right,” he told his stomach when it whined miserably again. “Tony Stark can spare some food, right?”

Chapter Text

This time Peter used his phone to hack Tony Stark’s AI. Granted, he wasn’t the best at that, but he was decent enough to buy himself just a little bit of time. He didn’t shut her off or anything because he figured doing so would be problematic for a lot of the people who were working for Stark, but he did insert a fake ID for himself so that he wouldn’t be flagged as someone who wasn’t supposed to be at the tower.

He figured the AI would realize soon enough that she was being tricked—Peter really hasn’t been sharpening his hacking skills over the last year—but he’d at least be able to get in without raising any red flags, meaning Stark might take a little time before he realized someone was messing with his AI. Again.

Was it reckless and stupid? Of course. Peter’s brain was practically screeching at him to stop at once, to let this whole thing go, to wait for tomorrow’s paycheck so he could buy himself something to eat instead of stealing it from an Avenger. But Tony Stark was a billionaire who’d chased him down ruthlessly, so Peter figured… he could spare a slice of bread or two to make up for everything.

No one batted an eye when Peter strolled into the building in his civilian clothes, making his way toward an elevator with all the confidence he could muster. He knew he didn’t look like he belonged at Stark Industries, but he figured everyone else was too busy to really pay much attention to a random kid. Besides, there were most likely sensors in place to stop unwanted visitors from entering the facility.

Too bad Peter was messing with those, huh?

He was careful to keep his head down whenever he couldn’t avoid the line of a camera. Once he reached the elevator, he waited until everyone else had walked out before pressing the button for Stark’s floor. He could steal the food from any floor’s kitchen—and he was certain there were plenty of those—but Peter’s issue wasn’t with the company, but rather with the man at the top. So he figured he’d only allow himself to steal from him and nobody else.

His stomach churned again as the doors opened and allowed him to step out into a spacy living room. There was a huge TV screen that taunted Peter from one of the walls, facing a sleek, white couch. Peter kind of wanted to just sit down and watch Star Wars, but he pushed through and instead hurried toward a bar area.

Shelves of alcohol bottles lined the wall behind it. Peter crinkled his nose at them, then focused on a fridge standing off to the side. He bit the inside of his cheek as he hopped over the bar and flung himself at the fridge’s door. When he opened it, his mouth watered at the sight of the stocked shelves. His eyes roved over the different types of food that were inside, quickly taking them in and contemplating which ones he should pick.

There was lasagna inside that was practically singing his name, but when Peter reached out to take it his hand faltered as guilt coursed through him. He already hated the idea of stealing, be it from someone who deserved it or not. But to steal something that was worth more than the other items presented to him felt like going a step further, which he wasn’t ready for.

So, in the end, he ended up picking a slice of bread and spreading strawberry jam all over it. It was certainly far from enough for his metabolism. Peter ate it quickly and his stomach felt just as hollow as before, but it was a start and there was no longer a nasty taste in his mouth from going too far without food. He still had to eat four more slices before he could feel a tad bit less ravenous.

He was just in the process of spreading more jam on his sixth bread slice when his spider-sense weakly tingled in the back of his head, making him freeze with the knife hovering over the bread, his eyes snapping over toward the elevator’s doors as they opened and revealed Tony Stark.

The man walked into the room, then froze at the sight of Peter sitting on a bar stool, eating in his own tower.

“What the hell,” said the man blankly.

Peter glanced between him and the bread slice, then decided—to hell with it. He shoved the half-covered slice into his mouth, threw the knife back into the jam jar with a soft cling and pushed away from the bar quickly. He had no idea which way to go next, though. He couldn’t jump out the window without Stark realizing he was Spider-Man. And he couldn’t exit through the elevator because the guy was blocking it with his body.

“No, no, no, don’t move,” Stark commanded, holding up his hand and aiming it at Peter. In the blink of an eye, his watch expanded and covered his hand until there was an Iron Man gauntlet threatening Peter. “Stay right where you are, buddy. FRIDAY? Dear, would you mind telling me why you didn’t think to inform me there was someone in my living room?”

“According to my database there is no issue with—” the AI started saying, then paused for a long moment before saying, “It appears my database has been compromised, boss.”

Stark narrowed his eyes at Peter. “You hacked my AI?”

Gulping, Peter raised his hands in the air and looked around, searching for a way out. “Oh, um, I mean, if you don’t want people to do that you should probably make it less easy, you know?”

“It was easy? You’re telling me hacking FRIDAY—the most advanced AI in the world, mind you—was easy?” the man demanded. When Peter merely hummed, Stark said, “And you are?”

“Nobody.”

“Nope, wrong answer. Try again. Give me a name, kid.”

“Bartholomew Kasady.”

“Is this some random name?”

“You asked for a name—”

“Your name,” corrected Stark with a look of exasperation. “Give me your name.”

Peter kept his face blank. “Bartholomew Kasady.”

Stark blinked at him. “Are you… are you lying to my face?”

A beat of silence. “No?”

“Jesus…” He ran a hand down his face and exhaled heavily. “Let’s say I believe you, yeah? I’ll entertain the idea and ask why one Bartholomew Kasady would bother breaking into Avengers Tower in the middle of the day just to—what—steal a bunch of bread and… what’s that? Peanut butter?”

“Jam,” said Peter.

Stark raised his eyebrows at him and wriggled his gloved fingers. “You hacked FRIDAY to eat in my kitchen? You’re either incredibly stupid or just have no self-preservation. Scratch that, you can’t be stupid. You hacked my AI. You’re smart, just lacking of judgement. What, your parents don’t give you enough pocket money to pay for your own meals?”

Peter frowned. “Guess they don’t, no.”

Opening his mouth, Stark went to say something when the building suddenly seemed to tremble a little. Stark’s eyes widened in surprise and alarm and Peter tensed and looked around frantically at the feeling of his spider-sense intensifying to warn him of danger, danger, danger.

“What’d you do?” Stark bit out.

Peter’s hands lowered as he gawked at him. “I’m standing right in front of you! How could I have caused—shouldn’t you go see what’s happening instead of interrogating me?”

“FRIDAY?” he called without looking away from Peter.

“A fire started in the R&D lab on floor forty-seven. It’s spreading quickly.”

Stark cursed and pointed a finger at Peter. “You, stay right there. FRIDAY, keep an eye on him until I’m back, honey. I’m gonna save those idiots downstairs before they burn to a crisp. Seriously, you leave them for five seconds…”

“Wait, no, I don’t wanna stay here,” protested Peter. “If there’s a fire below us, I’d rather get as far away from here—”

“It won’t reach you, kid.”

“I’m leaving,” he announced as Stark’s suit engulfed him fully, hiding the billionaire behind the metal.

“No elevator for you,” the metallic voice said.

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll take the stairs.”

“You’ll run down a hundred floors? Yeah, okay, kid.”

“Boss, some people are trapped,” intervened FRIDAY.

Without another word, Iron Man brushed past Peter and jumped off the balcony before his thrusters could be heard. Peter glanced back through the windows, hoping to see what was happening, but the balcony was blocking his view of the chaos below. Still, his spider-sense was a constant buzz in his head that wouldn’t let up even though he himself wasn’t the one in danger.

“Iron Man is here,” he muttered to himself as he walked toward the stairway. “No need to stay behind ‘cause he’s gonna make sure everything works out. They’ll all be fine. He doesn’t need help or—”

His ears picked up on the panicked voices of people crying out for help. He could also hear Iron Man’s faint voice talking as he tried to help, but there were so many people that sounded like they were in danger, it gave Peter pause. He stopped with his hand resting on the handle of the stairway’s door, unmoving as he closed his eyes and contemplated what to do.

Another shout of terror reached his ears and Peter groaned and banged his forehead against the door.

“This is so unfair,” he grumbled to himself before he flung open the door and ran into the echoey stairwell. He evaded FRIDAY’s cameras as he ran down quickly, pulling his shirt off in the meantime to reveal his suit underneath. “I didn’t ask for much. Just some food. Can’t a spider guy eat in peace without anything blowing up nearby? I’m asking for one eventless afternoon. One. Not a whole week!”

He used his webs to open up a ventilation grille above his head, then crawled in and dumped his clothes on the floor. Pulling on his mask, he tried to memorize the number of the floor he was in, telling himself he’d come back for his clothes later on. Then he crawled ahead in a random direction, hoping he would be able to find a way out of the building without being spotted by FRIDAY.

✧ ✧ ✧

By the time Peter got to the fire, it’d spread to three more floors. There were people running out of the building, evacuating it to the sound of alarms that were set off inside. But he could also hear the ones who were trapped inside, unable to move past the fire without getting hurt.

Iron Man was pulling people outside through a broken window. But even he couldn’t seem to grab all the people that were still inside by himself. He noticed Peter the moment he stuck to the side of the building and surveyed the situation while bracing himself for what was coming, freezing for a second like he was considering going after Peter instead of saving his workers. But then he told Peter where people were still trapped, instead.

Using Iron Man’s directions, Peter jumped into the burning floors and did his best to avoid the flames while searching for the people inside. It helped that most of them were still yelling or coughing because it allowed him to follow their voices. The alarms in the background were grating on his brain, but Peter did his best to ignore them as he pulled people to safety while also using as many fire extinguishers as possible to try and control the fire the best he could.

By the time Iron Man gave him the all-clear, Peter felt like he could hardly breathe. Every breath he took was a struggle, his lungs feeling like they were working overtime just to take in the fresh air he so desperately craved. He stumbled down to the sidewalk below, where the crowd of frantic workers was gathered, and leaned against the side of the building as he tried to take in deep, controlled breaths without hacking up a lung.

The siren of ambulances reached his ears and he lifted his head from the ground to see paramedics jumping out to check on the people who were rescued from the building. Most of them were unharmed, thankfully. Peter was glad to see they were all still feeling well enough to walk about and answer questions. Honestly, they looked almost better than he himself felt.

“You need to get checked,” a voice behind him said.

Peter turned to see Stark standing behind him, his suit peeling away and back into his watch. He was looking at Peter with calculating eyes, like he was trying to solve a math equation he wasn’t quite sure how to approach just yet. Peter hoped he wasn’t connecting between Peter stealing from his tower and Spider-Man showing up to help evacuate his building, but if he was, there wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway.

“I’m fine,” he rasped out, then coughed some more. He bent over, hands on his thighs, and shook his head from side to side. “Just peachy.”

“Sure you are.” Stark held up his hand and waved it at one of the paramedics. “Hey, over here!”

“I don’t need—I don’t need this. I’m fine,” Peter insisted.

With a scoff, Stark crossed his arms over his chest and said, “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not staying behind just so you can—” he coughed again—“just so you can feel better about chasing me around the city later on, okay? I don’t—I don’t need this. If you wanna bring me in, I can just swing away and escape without any sort of medical examination, Stark.”

“Luckily for us both, I have other things to attend to at the moment, more important than taking a vigilante into custody. But you’re going to let the nice people look at you and make sure you’re not gonna drop dead tomorrow, yeah? I don’t want this on my conscience. No big deal, just a couple of minutes and you’re free to go back to… wherever it is you popped up from. How did you get here this quickly?”

“I was in the area…” muttered Peter through another cough. Then he looked up into the man’s eyes. “You’re not gonna take me in?”

“I’d much rather talk things over a nice glass of scotch.”

Peter blinked at him dumbly. “I don’t drink.”

“You still have a mouth you can use to answer my very pressing questions, though.”

“And if I don’t feel like talking to you?”

Stark hummed a little as he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and shoved them onto his nose. “Didn’t look like you enjoyed our more direct approach last time we tried, Spidey, but I suppose that can be arranged. If a playdate with the Avengers is more your speed—”

Peter shook his head violently and coughed when it irritated his throat. “N-no. No, please don’t. That sucked.”

“The civilized approach it is.”

“Why couldn’t you have just tried that from the start?” he asked, and he couldn’t help the bitterness that leaked into his voice as he trained his lenses on Stark’s confident form facing him. “If you could have just asked me things without first hunting me down, why didn’t you just do that?”

“Well, we were told we had to bring you in without giving you the chance to escape and report back to anyone.” Stark ignored Peter’s confused hum. “They wanted thing to go smoothly. Clearly that didn’t go down that way. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I trust you or even should trust you. But… you just saved some of my employees despite having a beef with me, so I’m willing to give this a shot.”

“Very heartwarming,” Peter said wryly. “I’m touched.”

Stark sniffed and put his hands in his pockets. “Let someone check to make sure you’re okay and ready to leave. Then drop by my tower someday. We’ll talk more. FRIDAY will know to let you in so you won’t get dragged away by my security team. Not that they’re adequate enough, apparently, if a little brat can keep on busting into my personal floors…”

That last part was mumbled more quietly, not meant for Peter’s ears. He still picked up on it, of course, and it brought a small, proud smile to his face to know that Tony Stark was annoyed with him. It meant that he was at least impressing him, right?

“Speaking of, I’ve gotta go check on someone. I’ll see you around. FRIDAY, tell me the kid didn’t actually go down the stairway,” he added. There was a brief pause as he seemed to be listening to a small voice Peter could vaguely recognize coming from his glasses, then the man cursed. “I need to fireproof my building from toddlers now? Is that it? Fantastic. Call Happy, I need to tell him to keep an eye out for that kid.”

Peter watched as the man walked away briskly, still talking to his glasses. While he knew all of this meant that he would probably be unable to sneak back into Avengers Tower again any time soon, he also couldn’t help but grin proudly to himself at the feeling of accomplishment that was filling him. How many people could pat themselves on the back for being able to hack into Stark Industries, after all? How many of them were younger than eighteen?

“Er… Spidey?” said a nervous-looking paramedic. “Should I… do you want a quick check-up?”

“He does!” called Stark’s voice from further away.

Sighing, Peter surrendered to the paramedic.

✧ ✧ ✧

Peter should have known Stark would put something together. Not the part about Peter being Spider-Man—that he was certain was still a secret—but the part about Peter having already snuck into Avengers Tower once before. Why wouldn’t he realize that the last break-in had been Peter’s doing, too? It wasn’t that farfetched a conclusion to come to.

And while Peter didn’t mind the man knowing he was repeatedly breaking into his tower, he did mind it when it made Stark instruct his AI to keep a closer eye on the vents, knowing Peter had used them the previous time. Mostly because it meant that the moment Peter went to retrieve his clothes from Avengers Tower after the fire, FRIDAY’s voice greeted him, mentioning something about some kind of Brats In Vents protocol.

Basically, Tony Stark made sure Peter couldn’t use the vents without FRIDAY alerting him. Meaning he was forced to flee the tower before he could get his clothes. Which left him stranded with nothing to wear but his Spider-Man suit, which was kind of problematic. He didn’t mind sleeping in the thing—it wasn’t any less comfortable than his ragged and worn civilian clothes, after all. But when he woke up the next morning on his rooftop without anything to wear for his job, he figured he was in trouble.

His first option, he knew, was to go back to Avengers Tower and somehow convince Stark to give him back his clothes without telling him he was Peter Parker. Which sounded impossible. Stark had seen him in the clothes. He’d recognize them or realize Peter must have shed them before donning the Spidey suit. He couldn’t exactly let that happen, no matter what Stark was spouting now about talking like adults about everything, no violence or whatever.

His second option was to call Mr. Osborn and ask for his help. He knew the man would give him everything he needed—he always did. But he really didn’t want to turn to him with this. For one thing, Mr. Osborn would be less than amused if he heard from Peter that he’d gone into Avengers Tower, no matter what for, but especially for something as easily obtained as food. And for another, Mr. Osborn giving him free things just felt… off and left Peter scrambling to find a way to repay him before the man could think of something Peter wouldn’t like as much. Most likely something Spider-Man related.

Then again, between the two options, going to talk to Mr. Osborn was the least risky one. So with a churning, uneasy feeling in his gut, Peter pulled out his phone and unlocked it before opening his very short list of contacts. His thumb hovered over Gwen’s name staring back at him. He never did have the heart to delete her number. Hers and Aunt May’s. He couldn’t imagine not keeping this small thing behind for them. Just hearing their voicemails made him feel slightly better when things got really bad.

Gulping, he scrolled down, looking for Mr. Osborn’s number. His eyes listlessly scanned the names of people he’d saved before. It felt like they all belonged to a whole lifetime ago, honestly. Peter could barely even remember who these people were or what they looked like. Some of them were with him in elementary school. A few were from middle school, then high school. There were a teacher or two saved, as well.

He finally found Mr. Osborn’s name and moved his thumb toward it. Then he froze when his eyes landed on another name that was peering up at him from the screen, a spot before Mr. Osborn’s.

Ned Leeds.

He’d needed the number so they could work on a project together once. They’d mostly texted back and forth, never really diving too much into it. He was sure their conversations would all look stilted if he looked them up now. But the number was still there, saved on his phone. Alphabetically appearing right before Mr. Osborn’s one.

Maybe there was a third option.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Stella is okay, thank goodness,” said Ned’s mom as she walked back into the living room, phone clutched in her hand. “For a moment there she didn’t pick up and I thought she was hurt in the fire. Apparently she was pulled out of there by that vigilante—”

“Which one?” said Ned distractedly as he scrolled down on his phone in between reading the texts sent in the Academic Decathlon group chat and eating his cereal. “There are, like, a bajillion vigilantes in the city now.”

His mom hummed. “That one wearing red. Tsk, they’re all so similar, I’m not sure… I think it’s the one that keeps mostly to Queens, although why he’d go all the way to Manhattan just to pull people out of a fire is a mystery to me…”

Ned perked up at once, his gaze pulling up from his phone in order to look over at his mom. “Wait, Spider-Man? Spider-Man was there? He saved Stella?”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, exactly. Spider-Man. Wonder how desperate you have to be to pick a spider as your gimmick, eh? Do you mind? I want to see if they have anything to say about the fire. Stella sounded a bit frantic over the phone, I didn’t want to freak her out with more questions.”

Shaking his head, Ned watched as his mom turned on the TV and sat down beside him at the bar facing the screen to watch as the news reporter talked about the fire at Stark Industries. Apparently it was caused by a power source being left unchecked for too long. It’d heated up and started the fire, which spread rather quickly to the area all around. There were images of the evacuation process and the aftermath of the building playing on the screen.

Ned listened as people were interviewed while or after getting checked by the paramedics at the scene. They looked shaken up but mostly okay. Their faces were somewhat covered in soot, but at least they weren’t screaming in agony, right? According to them, Iron Man had shown up at the scene before Spider-Man joined in and helped clear out the building and fight back the spreading flames. Then the firefighters had shown up and dealt with the rest of it.

His mind was racing as he watched the shaky video someone had taken. It showed Spidey sitting on the curb with a paramedic facing him and asking questions. He’d seen this guy earlier that day. He’d seen him on top of his school, just lying there to pass the time. He’d seen him there, and now he was seeing the aftermath of him rescuing people from a burning building, because he was saving people—that’s what Spidey was all about.

That was so awesome.

He sat there and watched the news until they started talking about some singing parrot at the zoo. His mom kept on watching while texting her friend, but Ned finished his breakfast and went back to his room to get his backpack before leaving for school, instead. He wondered if he could maybe check the school’s roof before classes started. What if Spidey was there, just chilling? He could thank him for saving his mom’s friend. That wouldn’t be weird, would it?

The moment he opened his bedroom door and looked inside, though, he froze. There, crouching on the fire escape platform outside Ned’s window and peering into the room through the window, was Spider-Man. His suit was slightly blackened and his lenses seemed to be fogged-up by the soot that was clinging to the spandex. But it was certainly him.

“Holy shit!” he gasped.

Spidey immediately brought up a hand to the spot where his mouth should be, signaling for Ned to be quiet.

“Honey? You okay?” his mom called.

“Y-yeah! I’m fine! Just… thought I saw a spider,” he replied nervously. Outside, Spidey smacked his forehead, then rapped the windowpane with his knuckles. “Right, yes, I’m letting you in. Hold on, hold on. This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, dude. I swear to God, I’m so… I can’t believe you’re actually here. This is like a dream come true. Actually maybe I am still dreaming, maybe it’s a hallucination or something.”

Spidey climbed in quickly. “Oh, no, I’m very real.”

“Holy shit,” Ned breathed out. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“You need a bucket or something?” asked Spidey, sounding slightly alarmed.

“No, no, I’m not… not throwing up. Nope. It’s cool. I’m cool.” He gestured toward his bedroom door vaguely. “You saved my mom’s friend yesterday. In that fire. She works at Stark Industries. She was… she was there, and you saved her.”

The vigilante shuffled in a very awkward manner. “Oh. Cool.”

It was quiet for a very long moment. Ned just kept on staring at Spidey, half-convinced he was imagining the entire interaction because why was Spidey there? Why would be come see Ned of all people? How did he even do it? He would have had to ask around to know where Ned lived in order to find him, right? Unless he’s been following Ned around for a while now and only now allowing himself to be seen. Like… like a mercenary or something. Maybe—

No, Spidey was a good guy. Ned believed that with his entire being. There was no way he had any malicious intent in his body.

“Right…” said Spider-Man eventually, shifting his weight between his feet. “I had… I just had this… favor to ask?”

“Anything!”

Seemingly taken aback by the eager response, Spidey leaned back and nearly hit his head against the wall. His reflective lenses kept on looking at Ned, emotionless and yet not menacing in the least. Ned wasn’t sure why, but something about the guy’s rigid posture and nervous fiddling made him think he was feeling uncomfortable or anxious.

“O-okay. Um… see, you just said you wouldn’t mind helping me, and I know you were mostly talking about hacking stuff because you’re good with computers and, like, that kind of…” Spidey trailed off, then shook his head and more loudly said, “I actually just need some clothes. If… if you have anything to, like, spare.”

Ned needed a long moment for his brain to process the words, then he exclaimed, “Yes!” and turned over to his wardrobe. He could feel Spider-Man’s gaze trained on his back as he pulled clothes out before shaking his head and shoving them back inside. He had to find something clean, something in a good condition. Preferably something rather small because Spidey’s stature seemed to be much smaller than Ned’s and he didn’t want the guy to walk around with anything too baggy. It’d probably make him feel really bad.

His prolonged search seemed to make the vigilante uncomfortable because he started blabbering behind him, mindful of how loud his voice was so that Ned’s mom wouldn’t hear a strange man talking in her son’s room.

“I just… I lost my clothes. I mean, they’re not lost, I know exactly where they are. But I can’t get to them anymore, at least for a while. And I kinda need something to be able to walk around without looking like a freak or a… Spider-Man fanatic or something. I don’t know, I just… I need something normal to wear because I’ve gotta be somewhere and I don’t have anything other than what I always wear, and—again—it’s currently out of my reach. Which is my bad, I should have known better. But I just figured you wouldn’t mind. Like, I could give you your clothes back once I get mine again, of course. Of course. It’s… it’s yours. I’m gonna try and keep them clean and everything. They’ll look like new.”

Ned pulled out a Star Wars shirt, an Iron Man hoodie and a pair of jeans he wasn’t sure why he was keeping, seeing as they were too small for him by now. He also ended up pulling out a belt, figuring Spidey could probably use it in case the jeans were still too baggy for him. Once he had it all in his hands, he turned around and held it out for Spidey, making his voice falter and die as he seemed to stare at the pile of clothes.

“Oh, wow. Um… thanks.”

“No problem, dude,” said Ned excitedly. “Not gonna lie, it’s kind of weird that you don’t have more clothes other than the ones I saw in the first time around—”

Spidey let out a strange noise, like a dying cat. Ned graciously ignored it.

“—but it’s fine. Not… you not having any more clothes. That sounds bad. But you taking my clothes. Like, I have more than one set, so it’s cool. It’s so cool. Actually, the fact that a superhero’s gonna wear something that belongs to me is just… super awesome. Like, my mind is slightly blown. I’m definitely dreaming.”

Hesitantly taking the offered clothes, Spidey nodded slowly. “Yeah, um… sure. I mean, thank you so much. I—I can pay you back, if you want. I’m just gonna need some time to sell enough—” He cut himself off with a cough, shuffling awkwardly once more. “I mean, I can pay you back eventually. For the clothes.”

“Oh, no, don’t pay me back. Dude, I don’t mind. Just keep them. Sounds like you need them.”

“I don’t know…”

“It can be, like, a ‘thank you’ from us. you know, for saving Mom’s friend from that fire yesterday.”

Spider-Man looked repeatedly between the clothes and Ned, like he was contemplating whether he was okay with this deal or not. Then his shoulders sagged down as he seemed to relax a bit. Ned could almost imagine his lips tugging up into a small smile under his mask.

“Thank you, man,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it. If you need anything, you can ask! I can’t imagine anything cooler than helping a superhero.”

“Technically, I’m not really a superhero. Like, the Avengers are superheroes. I’m a vigilante. You know, ‘cause I’m not working with the law.” He glanced down at the hoodie of Iron Man and huffed a small laugh. “Bet you five dollars Tony Stark would have an aneurysm if he ever saw me wearing his merch.”

Ned blanched. “Should I, like, switch it to something else? I have other hoodies—”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I always did love Iron Man.”

“He’s so cool.”

Spidey huffed again. “I guess.”

“And I know the Star Wars shirt is kind of geeky, but I honestly don’t really have a lot of regular clothes, you know? Most of them are considered geeky, I suppose. So, like, if you want something else, maybe I can find if—”

“I love Star Wars,” Spidey cut him off. “This is actually the best shirt I’ve had in a while.”

Ned beamed. “Spider-Man is a Star Wars fan. I’m going to pass out. No, I’m not, I’m not. No… passing out. This is just so cool.”

“Ned, you need to leave before you miss the subway!” his mom called from the living room.

“Oh, right.”

Spidey stepped back toward the window, cradling the clothes like they were the most precious thing in the world. “You sure you don’t want me to pay you back for all of this?”

“I’m sure.”

The vigilante hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded and hopped out the window and out of sight in the blink of an eye. Ned was left standing there, facing the open window with his jaw dragging on the floor, his wardrobe open and messier than before and his body buzzing from the excitement of talking and helping Spider-Man.

“Ned!” said his mom again.

“Coming!” he called back. He closed the window hesitantly, his eyes scanning the view as he searched for a red and blue figure. “I’m definitely gonna throw up.”

Chapter Text

“This is degrading.”

“I swear to God, Stark, one more word—”

“I’m just saying, they could have given us an actually important job and instead we’re being turned into some school kids’ entertainment? It’s insulting. I’m officially insulted.”

Sam groaned and shook his head before shooting the principal an apologetic look. “I am so sorry, sir. Frankly, you got screwed, getting him as a representative. Tony’s been whining about this since we started these rounds. We’ve tried everything and nothing helps.”

Principal Morita chuckled lightly. “Trust me, none of the students here will find it off-putting. They’d still admire the ground on which you stand. That goes for the two of you, of course, although they’d probably mostly be taken by Mr. Stark. I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, but seeing as these kids aspire to work at tech companies in the future, they’d probably look forward to meeting a genius-level superhero rather than—er…”

“A flying chicken,” suggested Tony.

Sam slapped him upside the head.

“Let’s admit it, though, the surveys said I am just a better public image than all of you combined. Which is why I’m the face of the Avengers—”

“Pretty sure that’s Steve.”

“—and the rest of you work behind the scenes when we need actual heroes to show up. You know, to do the heavy lifting.” Tony glanced down at his watch and proceeded to roll his eyes. “Still, I’m wasting my morning here. Surrounded by pubescent teenagers who can’t stop gawking at me.”

A pair of girls standing off to the side giggled as he passed by and Tony pushed his sunglasses further up his nose.

“They’re gawking at us,” corrected Sam.

Tony patted him on the back. “Oh, Wilson, it’s cute that you think anyone here knows who you are.”

“I’m sure they know,” Principal Morita rushed to say.

Sam and the principal kept on talking but Tony tuned them out as he rubbed his temples and tried to stave off a migraine after a restless night of looking, searching and chasing any clue regarding that kid that’d broken into his tower not once but twice already. The name Bartholomew Kasady led him nowhere, as predicted, which meant that Tony was going off of facial features alone, but FRIDAY hasn’t found a match yet. It was like the kid was a ghost.

Pepper had tried to get him to sleep at some point but Tony was too distracted by the thrill of a mystery to lie in bed and shut his brain off. So instead he’d drunk coffee until his entire being felt like it was vibrating from the overdose of caffeine in his blood. And all that was for nothing because he was still clueless as to the identity of that kid. A kid FRIDAY had also said returned to try and pick up his clothes.

That was just weird. Following FRIDAY’s instructions, Tony had indeed found a stash of dirty clothes tucked away in one of the vents. The kid really seemed to like the tower’s ventilation system, huh? Now the clothes were resting on the desk in his lab. Tony wasn’t sure what he was hoping to gain from that—a DNA sample, maybe? Another lead? Maybe another visit from the kid who’d try to get his dirty, old clothes back?

Going to Midtown felt like an unwanted distraction in the middle of his search. He didn’t want to come to the school. He didn’t feel like preaching to a bunch of adolescent kids about the threat that vigilantes and enhanced individuals posed because he knew it was mostly propaganda against Spider-Man, and right now the vigilante wasn’t exactly on his ‘top most lethal and dangerous’.

Tony’s gaze brushed over a display cabinet pushed against the wall to his right, showcasing several trophies from competitions and a few pictures of the competing teams of students from the school. He started turning his head when something registered in his brain and his eyes flickered back over to one of the framed photos of a team of smiling students, all of which were wearing matching yellow jackets with the school symbol. A girl in the center was holding up a trophy, grinning proudly with her head held high and another girl’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.

His legs stopped moving and he kept on staring at the photo. He took off his glasses to look at the picture more closely, his eyes narrowing, scrutinizing.

“Oh, these are just some of Midtown’s accomplishments over the last couple of years,” Principal Morita said proudly, looking fondly at the pictures. “Robotics club, chess club—”

“What about this picture right here?” Tony cut him off, pointing at the photo without looking away from it.

“You all right, man?” said Wilson in mild amusement.

Principal Morita hummed and his smile widened. “Our school’s academic decathlon team. This is from two years ago. We won the national championship with our brilliant team. Last year we came a close second, but hopefully this time…”

Tony held his glasses up and used them to point at a certain face smiling in the picture, frozen forever. “Who’s this?”

The man bowed down a little to see who Tony was talking about, then his face did this funny thing—his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together and his eyes became a little distant. He looked incredibly sad at the sight of his student and Tony noticed even Wilson could see something was off.

“That’s Peter Parker, Mr. Stark,” the principal said evenly. “Brilliant mind, great student. I had to talk to his guardian more than once about him skipping his classes, but he was one of the brightest students our school has ever seen. Answered nearly a third of the questions during the national tournament. Probably won thanks to him.”

“Sounds like he has a bright future ahead of him,” commented Sam politely.

“If only,” sighed Principal Morita.

“What d’you mean?” demanded Tony.

The man shifted a bit. “He… he used to live with his aunt and uncle. His parents died when he was very young. But then his uncle was murdered right in front of him when he was still a freshman. Hasn’t been the same ever since. That was when he started cutting classes, ditching school.”

“That’s… rough,” said Sam sympathetically.

“That’s not all of it.”

“There’s more?”

Principal Morita nodded mournfully. “His aunt died the next year, too. A car crash. No one has seen the kid since. He just… fell off the face of the earth. The police is still looking for him, I’m sure. I keep on hoping I’d see his face one day, too. I can’t help it, I want to make sure the kid’s all right. And then with his girlfriend’s death on top of it—”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we sure this kid isn’t running around killing people? His girlfriend died, too? Are you shi—kidding me,” he corrected when a bunch of awestruck students brushed past them.

“You must have heard about it. Her death was all over the news,” said the principal. “Their teachers said they used to date. I don’t know why, I get the feeling they would have kept in contact after Parker’s aunt’s death, too.”

“Her death was on the news?”

“Yes, yes. That travesty with Spider-Man and that goblin monster? That was a huge deal, remember? They were fighting and she got caught in the middle of it. Was dropped off the Brooklyn Bridge. Here, that’s her—Gwen Stacy.”

He pointed at a blonde girl with blue eyes that was standing next to Peter Parker in the victory photo. She had bangs that fell into her eyes and a flushed, nervous smile. Her shoulder was brushing against Peter Parker’s because she was standing closer to him than to the girl standing on her other side.

Sam whistled lowly and shook his head. “Wouldn’t wanna be him, eh, Stark?”

“Yeah, ah-huh,” mumbled Tony.

But while the other two kept on walking down the hall, he took a moment longer to look at the picture from which a boy with brown curly hair was smiling at him. His cheeks were as flushed as Stacy’s—if not more so—and dotted with freckles. His doe eyes were brown and earnest, but also sheepish. His smile was bright and genuine but somewhat tinged with sadness, which Tony took to mean his uncle must have already passed away by the time this was taken.

He glanced around warily, then put the glasses back on his face and muttered, “FRIDAY, honey, there’s a match, isn’t there?”

“There’s a 98.4 percent match, boss,” she replied through the glasses.

His lips quirked up as he sniffed and leaned back. “Well, what do you know? You really do learn new things at school every day, FRI. We just found Bartholomew Kasady.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Peter made sure to keep his head down and the Iron Man hoodie up so nobody would be able to see his face. This was probably his stupidest plan yet—which was saying something when he’d broken into Avengers Tower twice already—but he still found himself slipping through the halls of Midtown while keeping to himself and making sure to rely on his spider-sense so no one would run into him and end up discovering Peter Parker was back in the school.

He made sure to stay clear of Ned. If the guy saw him, he’d probably recognize his own clothes and then… well, Peter didn’t want to go further down that line. Instead, he just focused on following everyone else while keeping himself under the radar. Teachers didn’t stop him, students didn’t mock him. He was pretty sure he passed by Flash and the guy didn’t even realize that.

His stomach was a little bit fuller now, after finally buying himself something decent to eat. The first thing he’d done after visiting Ned was to head over to the Daily Bugle and sell Jameson the Spider-Man pictures he’s been dying to have. He didn’t pay much—not enough for Peter to be able to pay for his enhanced metabolism—but it was something, and Peter would take that little bit of cash over nothing at all. Especially when the man didn’t seem to care Peter sometimes dropped by looking like he just rolled in the dirt with pigs.

For one brief moment he allowed himself to hesitate outside the school gym. He’d already seen Tony Stark and Sam Wilson from afar earlier on. He’d heard their voices, seen the top of their heads and promptly freaked out and turned around in order to keep his distance. But he’d come to Midtown for a reason. He wanted to know what the Avengers had to say to the students here so he’d be prepared. He wanted to stay in the loop, and that meant he was going to step inside and hear them out—from the shadows, where no one would realize who he was, of course.

Taking in one deep breath, Peter went to step in only to step slightly to the side at the feeling of his spider-sense buzzing gently for him to move.

“Oops, sorry, kid,” said a familiar voice.

Peter nearly turned on his heel and fled at the sound of Tony Stark coming from right next to him. A hand shot out to land on his shoulder and stabilize him. He fought to keep himself from flinching away from the touch, instead just making sure to keep his head down and hidden from Stark.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, sir,” he said, his voice coming out squeaker than he would have liked.

“Good, good.”

His brows furrowed as Peter chanced a glance over at the man. Stark wasn’t looking in his direction, instead frowning at the gym with distant eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he seemed to constantly wear. Peter figured they would have been more helpful with someone without enhanced sight. He could see rather clearly through the tinted lenses, but he kept his mouth shut and didn’t comment on it.

“Er… are you okay, Mr…. Iron Man?”

The man scoffed. “Sure, kid. Never better.”

They were both quiet for a moment, then the billionaire sniffed and straightened up. Peter ducked his head a second before he turned to look at him, but he could still feel the man’s eyes on him. An amused snort followed next as Stark started stepping into the gym.

“Nice taste in clothes you got there.”

Peter didn’t say anything, just watched for several seconds as the man joined Sam Wilson. Then he hunched his shoulders even more and made his way to the back row of the bleachers, where only one girl spared him a brief look before turning back to the book she was reading in the middle of the chaotic gym, where everyone was trying to get a better view of the two visiting Avengers.

A few rows ahead he could see Ned sitting by himself, his body bouncing a little as he gawked at the Avengers, as well. Flash threw a comment in his direction but the guy seemed to be too absorbed in Stark and Wilson to even comprehend somebody was mocking him. The pout this earned him from Flash made Peter’s lips twitch upward. He wished he could have taken a picture of that.

Getting everyone to be quiet took time and effort. Poor Mr. Harrington and Principal Morita looked worn out by the time the Avengers started talking to the students, and even then they had to interrupt to shush the ones who kept on talking or asking questions in the middle of the assembly.

It wasn’t anything that interesting, what the Avengers were saying. They were mostly telling everyone to be careful and report anything suspicious they see. Like someone doing something that was humanly impossible. They were giving out hints as to how they could try to identify enhanced individuals, as if that just happened every single day and wasn’t anything incredibly rare.

Not that Peter could talk. He was literally an enhanced person who was trying to keep it quiet whenever he wasn’t in a flashy red and blue skintight suit.

And then Flash’s hand went up and he asked, “But why would I report an enhanced guy just because they have superpowers? That’s, like, the most awesome thing in the world. They could be superheroes, like Spider-Man, right?”

“Spider-Man is no superhero,” corrected Sam Wilson. “He’s a vigilante. A reckless guy the police has been trying to capture from his very first appearance. He’s dangerous, kid. We don’t know anything about him.”

“We know he saves people,” someone countered. “That’s not exactly the kind of thing a supervillain would do, right?”

“He might be playing the long game for all we know.”

A girl snorted. “But he’s helping people. I thought the law said people are innocent until proven guilty. Why are you trying to arrest the guy without any proof that he’s going to hurt people?”

“We’d like to prevent things from going south,” replied Wilson calmly. “I know you guys might like him—I hear he’s mostly active around Queens so you feel his presence the most. But when you know nothing about who he really is, where he came from, what he wants—”

With a loud thud, the girl beside Peter shut her book and looked down at Sam coolly. “Isn’t this kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

“’Scuse me?”

“Someone you don’t know shows up, does some good, helps the community. You see him and think he might cause harm to the city later, so you chase him around to try and bring him to custody despite having no proof against him. If he has a change of heart later on just because he feels like everyone’s been acting incredibly unjustly toward him, it’d be on you. You’d have been the reason he was pushed over the edge in the first place because you expected him to turn to villainy.”

The girl reopened her book and muttered, “That’s a self-fulfilling prophecy if I ever heard one.”

Peter covered his mouth with his hand to keep himself from laughing and to hide more of his face as people turned to look in their direction. His eyes did flicker toward Ned to make sure he wasn’t spotting Peter, and he was relieved to note that he was too busy waving his hand to ask a question to notice who was sitting in the back row.

Stark clapped his hands loudly together and pointed at the girl. “That’s what I said! I told Brucie that, you know,” he added in Wilson’s direction. “We create our own demons. It’s a… a famous quote. Pretty sure I heard it once… never mind.”

Frowning, Wilson looked at Stark like he just fell out of the sky. “What, you want to leave Spider-Man be? There’s a reason the government is concerned about him, remember?” He cast a look around, then lowered his voice so only Peter managed to hear him with his enhanced hearing. “The super soldier serum? Someone is clearly trying to replicate it, and they made it work, maybe even better than the original.”

“I know, I know,” said Stark dismissively. He glanced down at his phone and his features hardened. “All right, come on, only a few more questions and we’re out of here, yeah? I have a very tight schedule, you know. You, over there, if you’re going to ask for an autograph I am going to scream.”

The boy Stark was looking at sheepishly pulled his hand back down, his face burning brightly.

A girl was picked next. “Do you think Spider-Man and Black Widow would have spider babies? Like, if they ever got together.”

Wilson sent a look around, as if expecting to see Black Widow lurking in the shadows, ready to launch herself at the innocent girl and strangle her to death for her question. Stark just looked at her blankly, pulling his glasses off to show the utterly unimpressed expression on his face.

“Okay, I’m done. That’s it,” he said after a long pause. “You did not just ask that. Teacher, teach, hey! I thought the students here were supposed to be smart.”

“We are smart!” Flash protested. “It’s a STEM school. The fact we even got in is proof enough that we’re smart.”

“Not if you paid your way into the school, it isn’t.”

“Oooookay, that’s our cue to leave,” said Sam quickly, sending a look toward Stark to let him know he should shut up. “We’ll be taking off. Just remember our warnings, keep a look out for anything suspicious, yeah? This city is freaky and dangerous, especially nowadays.”

Peter shook his head mildly at the chaos, then got up as discreetly as possible—he could feel the girl’s eyes following him—and used the cover of loud voices and frantically waving hands to try and slip away unnoticed. Instead of climbing down the bleachers—directly in front of the Avengers and the school’s staff—Peter waited until his spider-sense let him know he wasn’t being watched by anyone before he launched himself silently onto the tall ceiling of the gym.

He stuck to the smooth surface with his fingertips and through his shoes and waited for a moment. When his senses remained calm and the noise below kept on going without any sort of change that might indicate he had been spotted, Peter started moving toward one of the high windows leading outside. He knew they were closed—experience had taught him more than enough about the school building—but he also knew he could use his strength to open them if needed.

Making sure to keep to the corners and the most shadowy parts of the ceiling, Peter crossed the gym without making a sound. He grabbed the handle of one of the windows and twisted it to the side. He didn’t even feel its resistance, it snapped to the side and allowed him to open the window and slip outside easily.

He was almost out of there when his phone suddenly started ringing. Peter’s eyes widened as he reached into his pocket to silence it. Then he waited one second. Two seconds. He held his breath as he waited. The sound below remained, though, so it must have disguised his ringing phone.

With one brief look at the screen—Mr. Osborn, of course. Who else would call him—Peter put it back in his pocket, then glanced back just to check.

The students were—for the most part—shouting their questions at the Avengers, knowing their time was running out and they’d get no more opportunities to speak to the two heroes. Not like this, at least. The teachers in the gym were futilely attempting to calm everyone down. Mr. Harrington looked like he’d already given up on that, instead asking Wilson about Bruce Banner with the kind of eagerness his students were displaying.

And then Peter froze when he noticed a pair of sharp eyes trained on him. Tony Stark was ignoring the students in front of him, instead squinting his eyes up to try and get a better look at Peter. Honestly, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if he was recognizing the hoodie he was wearing, seeing as it was his own merch. But was he recognizing Peter as the kid he’d found sitting at his bar? Was he even seeing his face? Was it too far?

Whatever was going through his head, Peter was certain of one thing—Tony Stark was smart enough to realize a kid clinging to a wall like that without any special equipment could only be Spider-Man.

Heart hammering in his chest, Peter snapped back around and climbed out the window and to the roof of the school, where he collapsed onto the concrete with a groan, covered his eyes and cursed his own curiosity.

✧ ✧ ✧

“What were you thinking, going to Avengers Tower? Iron Man was right there. We know he’s after you. They all are. Why would you do something so reckless, so stupid?” demanded Mr. Osborn. “It was a mere fire. Stark was right there, he could have handled it just fine without you showing up. You put your life on the line to save his people—”

“I did it to save people. Just people. It doesn’t matter who they work for,” objected Peter as he tugged at the sims of his hoodie.

“You still risked your neck for no reason. Stark was already there, the situation was being handled.” Mr. Osborn sighed deeply and rubbed his temples from behind his desk. “Peter, you are one of a kind. Do you realize what this means? If you die, it will be a loss for the entire world. You jump into danger without a second thought and you have nothing more than a spandex suit to protect you. It can’t withstand flames.”

Peter looked down at his feet. “It’s not like I asked for any of this,” he muttered.

“But you have this gift, this incredible power. You can’t dismiss it like it’s nothing. Why do you think the government wants to put you in a cage? Why do you think they want to get their hands on you? They want to study you, learn how you work. They want to figure out how to replicate what’s flowing through your blood to create… create soldiers. Can you imagine what the world would look like with the government controlling an army of people with your exceptional powers?”

He wanted to say that it sounded like a bigger Avengers team, but instead he bit the inside of his cheek and shuffled his feet a bit.

Mr. Osborn looked at him grimly. “If Tony Stark ever gets a hold of you, he would hand you over to the government in a heartbeat. He never cared about the people, only about the money, the fame, the big picture. Even as Iron Man he only helps when things go wrong. He won’t step in unless he has a personal reason or an order. It’s all business, nothing more. That’s why you have to stay away from him, Peter. I’m trying to protect you, but you must heed my warnings.”

Peter glanced up at Mr. Osborn’s urging expression, his mind racing as he thought back to Stark’s invitation. He’d sounded sincere, like he truly did want to hear Spider-Man out, talk to him without attacking. He’d looked so genuine that Peter was having a hard time convincing himself again that Mr. Osborn was correct. But the businessman did know Tony Stark better than Peter did, right? They’ve been in contact for years now, after all.

“There might be a slight issue with that,” he admitted meekly.

Face turning more serious, Mr. Osborn leaned his chin on his hands and stared at Peter like he was trying to pluck the information straight out of his brain. “What happened?”

“He… I think he may have seen my face. Right before I came here.”

Mr. Osborn’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Why were you near him again?”

“I just… I went to Midtown. I heard the Avengers were going to show up to talk to the school about something regarding enhanced people and I wanted to hear out what they had to say. I figured it’d be helpful to know. But when I went to leave, you called me right as I was climbing out a window and… I think he heard my phone and saw my face. I wasn’t… I was clinging to the wall so he must have realized I wasn’t, like, normal. I didn’t—”

“He saw you?”

Peter wet his lips and jerkily nodded.

Mr. Osborn didn’t react for a brief moment, then slammed his fist against the table and cursed loudly. Peter only barely managed to hold himself back from flinching away at the loud sound. He was pretty sure his feet stuck to the ground, but he wasn’t sure and he didn’t feel like testing it out right now, not when the man looked this upset already. The last thing he needed was for Mr. Osborn to see him losing control of his powers.

“This is exactly why I told you to keep your distance, to come to me when you need someone—be it materialistic or simple information. I could have given you a word-to-word recount of the Avengers’ speeches, then you wouldn’t have been caught. Instead you played right into their hands. I’m willing to bet he planned on you showing up and risking your identity like that, that bastard!”

“He couldn’t have known I’d show up. I only heard about the visit by accident—”

“But was it accidental? What if Stark made sure you’d hear about this? You really think he wouldn’t pay someone to talk loudly enough about things he wants people to overhear? He’s smart, cunning, and has enough influence, money and power to achieve his goals without getting caught. And you played right into his trap, Peter.”

Peter shook his head although his heart was sinking at the man’s words. How could he be sure this hasn’t all been one big trap? What if Stark really did get Ned to somehow work for him? What if he found out Peter had been caught by him and figured he could give it a shot? What if that was why Ned agreed to lend Peter his clothes? He gave him an Iron Man hoodie, after all. Was it really that farfetched to believe he may have given this specific one to Peter just to make it easier for Stark to recognize him in a crowd?

But the thought of Ned being anything but sincere was almost laughable. Peter couldn’t imagine the boy’s innocence and excitement being nothing but a façade. He’d been so genuine and honest, willing to offer Peter everything he needed simply because he could. Unless he was doing so because Tony Stark had dropped by to let him know Spider-Man might come and ask for favors, then instructed him exactly how to act, what to say, which items to pick—

It felt wrong, suspecting Ned of such things. This was just some teenager in high school. Only a junior. Yet Peter was entertaining the thought of him working with someone like Tony Stark? It sounded ludicrous, like a joke. And yet… Peter himself was no older than Ned, was he? And here he was, swinging around the city, running from the law, helping people the best he could, avoiding the Avengers and the government…

Was it really that crazy to assume another kid his age was in leagues with the Avengers?

“Peter, listen to me,” Mr. Osborn said, his voice lowering again as he seemed to calm down. “Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers, they won’t rest until they get their hands on you. then they’d experiment on you, they’d lock you up and keep you caged and cooped up until they’re done with you, and who knows if they ever will. These people don’t care about you, only about what makes you Spider-Man. It makes them a threat—to you, your well-being.”

“But… but Stark told me he wanted to talk peacefully,” said Peter hesitantly. “He told me he didn’t want to chase me around anymore, not if he doesn’t have to.”

“He’d say anything to get your guard down. The moment you get close enough, he’d lock you up. Mark my words, Peter, you do not want to give him the opportunity to act against you. If he already knows what you look like, I’m willing to bet he’s going to find out what your name is, where you’re from, every piece of information there is about you will be at his disposal. He will manipulate you, offer empty promises. You must be strong and stand your ground. You can’t fall for his act.”

“But—”

“He will stop at nothing to get his hands on you. Whether or not he no longer sells weapons, he will see you as nothing more than one. A human soldier to be controlled and mass-produced. So you need to avoid him at all costs; stay out of his reach, under the radar. He mustn’t get his hands on you, Peter. He will destroy you and Spider-Man altogether. Promise me this.”

Throat dry, Peter tugged some more at his hoodie. He felt like it was suffocating him, the symbol of Iron Man’s head on his chest burning. He wanted to take it off, but he also wanted to snuggle into it, as if it was a source of comfort and not the face of one of his biggest threats.

He locked eyes with Mr. Osborn and swallowed thickly through the lump in his throat. He could see the fire burning in the man’s eyes, although he couldn’t find any coziness, comfort or safety in it. It felt more dangerous than that, like an unvoiced threat to Tony Stark’s wellbeing in case he decided to go anywhere near Peter again.

“You’ll have to limit your patrols,” said Mr. Osborn eventually, taking his silence as consent. “You can’t return to Midtown again, it’s obviously too risky. I wouldn’t be surprised if the teachers there have been alerted, told to keep an eye out for you in case you show up. Stark would cover all his bases, I’m sure. What else, what else… uh, you’ll have to find a better place to stay at than that rooftop you like so much. That’s not an issue. There’s a spare room here you can use. No one will bother you, of course. I will make sure you have everything you need in there.”

“Sir, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do to keep you safe. No one will get their hands on you. Besides, I can obviously not trust you not to go back to that little school or to Avengers Tower. It’s best for you to stay here, where I can keep a close eye on you. Yes, perfect.”

Peter frowned. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I can look after myself.”

“Evidently not.”

Peter wanted to object again—Stark only saw his face because he heard Mr. Osborn’s incoming call, after all. He could have slipped out of that gym unnoticed and he would have been non-the-wiser. This was… so unfair.

Before he could open his mouth, Mr. Osborn added, “Trust me, Peter, this is for the best. You agreed to let me help you, remember? This is me helping. This is me providing you with the assistance you need. Something like you must be protected at all costs, and I will see to it that no one gets too close to you. Come, I will show you where you are going to stay.”

And Peter followed him numbly, fidgeting with his hoodie the entire time and mulling over the situation he got himself into. His protests wouldn’t slip past his lips, though, and his legs kept on following Mr. Osborn obediently.

His eyes glided over a window overlooking the city and he noticed Avengers Tower standing tall not too far away, tauntingly gleaming in the sun shining from above. Was it wrong of him to find the sight even more enticing now that he knew he was officially forbidden from getting anywhere near it?

Chapter Text

Clinging to the side of the roof, Peter watched as Ned walked down the street with his backpack swaying back and forth over his back, his earbuds playing some kind of pop song Peter couldn’t identify from this far away. He seemed to be taking his time going home, not in a rush in any sense of the word.

Was that weird? Was he always this slow while heading back from school? Or was Peter’s mind playing tricks on him, trying to convince him there was something sinister or deliberate and cunning behind the innocent act? He couldn’t tell and it was frightening him the longer he kept on observing. Problem was, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the oblivious boy below no matter how hard he tried.

It took him a while to convince Mr. Osborn to let him leave for patrol. He had to promise to stay away from Midtown, Avengers Tower and any other place that was even vaguely associated with Peter Parker. The limited areas left for him to scour as Spider-Man were driving him mad, but this was still better than being cooped up at Oscorp. There was only so much to do inside that gray building and Peter was already pretty sure he was going insane.

At first it really had been a patrol, just Peter swinging around the city and looking for crimes he could stop or people he could offer his help to. But then he stumbled upon Ned on his way home and the urge to make sure he wasn’t up to anything like Mr. Osborn had said just overtook him. So he was… spying on Ned. Watching him in a very not-creepy way. Yeah, this was definitely very normal, why shouldn’t the neighborhood’s vigilante keep following a teenage high school student?

Ned’s phone started ringing and Peter tensed a little, but when he answered it became abundantly clear his mother was the one on the other end of the line. Relaxing once more, Peter crept along the side of the building, keeping to the shadows while also keeping Ned in his line of sight. He just needed to make sure he wasn’t heading anywhere else. He was going home, right? Not to—say—Avengers Tower or any other facility related to the superhero team.

“No, wait, wait, wait! I don’t have any money! I don’t have—OW!”

Peter tensed at the sound of the faint cry coming from a different street. He hummed uncertainly to himself, his gaze still trained on Ned for a moment longer. Then he snapped out of it with a shake of his head at the sound of the same guy whimpering in pain.

If the choice was between following Ned to see if he was trustworthy or not and heading over to save some guy who was getting mugged, Peter would go with the mugging. No matter how much he wanted to know for sure that Ned was innocent in this whole thing—simply a guy with a big heart who wanted to help a random vigilante.

Swinging in the direction of the distressed voice, Peter made his way to an alley behind a Starbucks. Three men were cornering one guy who had his back pressed against the wall, hands curled over his stomach like he’d been punched. One of the men was holding a gun, aiming it straight at the dude’s terrified face.

“Your wallet, now.”

“I’m telling you, I-I don’t have it on me!” cried the guy. “I forgot it at home, I swear. You can—you can search my pockets and see for yourselves.”

The men to his right swung his fist back to punch the guy again, so Peter shot out a web that stuck to his hand and held it in place. Surprised yelps greeted him as he jumped off the roof and down to the ground, right behind the three men. From there, he could see the guy’s face, his eyes growing wide at the sound of Spider-Man showing up.

“Shit,” one of the men muttered. “It’s that spider freak.”

“Who you calling a freak?” said Peter in mock offence as he tugged at his web, making the man that was attached to it stumble in his direction. With one swift kick, he knocked him to the floor and webbed him up. “I’ll have you know, my powers are very popular, normal and certainly not freaky. Kind of rude, I’ve gotta say.”

The man holding the gun turned around and aimed it at Peter before pulling the trigger. Behind him, the guy whimpered in relief and sank to the floor, crouching and huddling into a ball to draw less attention. Or maybe to panic with his face covered.

Peter didn’t care. His spider-sense blared up in his head and screeched at him to move. His instincts complied and pulled him out of the way of the gun shot in his direction. Then the next one. Then the next. The armed man gawked at him, then cursed and tried to make a run for it along with his accomplice.

“Whoa, hey, you’re leaving already? And here I thought you were enjoying the party. Oh, man, am I not fun to hang out with anymore? I was scared this was gonna happen. You know, you get superpowers and suddenly nobody wants to go out with you, it’s like I’m contagious or something. For the record, I’m not.”

He easily pulled the gun out of the man’s hand with a web, then punched him in the face with enough force to make him stumble back, then crumble to the floor, unconscious. The third dude blinked at his two buddies, then promptly lifted his hands in the air and shook his head at Peter while muttering, “You know, this was all their idea, I knew this was never going to work. Just don’t hurt me.”

“I like you,” Peter decided as he webbed the last man’s feet to the floor and his hands to each other. “Not as much as I would’ve liked you had you, you know, not tried to steal someone’s wallet, but better than these other two geniuses. I’d’ve promised to leave a good word with the police for you, but I’m afraid they aren’t all that fond of me so that wouldn’t do you any good. Just hang tight until they show up, yeah?”

The man nodded quickly, his eyes wide.

With his spider-sense falling quiet, Peter relaxed his limbs. He went to turn toward the guy curled-up on the ground, but before that his eyes fell on the three men again and he frowned under his mask and tilted his head to the side, focusing once more on the third man.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the Green Goblin, would you? You know, that lunatic with the cackling bombs and the green complexion? Kind of psychotic?”

The man shook his head violently. “N-no! We don’t know anything, I swear.”

With a sigh, Peter swiveled around and strolled toward the crouching guy near the back of the alley. At the sound of his footsteps, the dude looked up with a pair of frantic eyes and gaped.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” said Peter lightly.

“You… wow.”

“I get that a lot, too.”

The guy gaped some more.

Peter shuffled his feet, then loudly whispered, “This is the part where you call the cops, dude.”

“Right!”

He fumbled a little with his phone but managed to unlock it eventually. Peter waited with him when it became apparent the guy was in shock, keeping up a constant stream of conversation, no matter how one-sided it was. Some of the color was slowly returning to the guy’s face so he figured he was doing a decent job.

The moment Peter heard the police sirens, he bid farewell and swung out of there before the cops decided to pull out their guns and shoot him again. Surprisingly, he wasn’t in the mood to go back to Mr. Osborn with a gunshot wound or a bullet still lodged between his ribs. Besides, there was no need for him to stay when the police officers were there to take care of everything.

His phone pinged with a message a few minutes later. When he checked it, he saw a text from Mr. Osborn telling him not to go any closer to Midtown. It made him frown to himself and glance down at his suit. He was pretty sure there was no tracking device attached to it, he would have surely noticed it. But maybe his phone?

He made his way over to his favorite rooftop, knowing Mr. Osborn would scold him for returning there later. Then he sat down, got comfortable and pried his phone apart to scan its parts and see if he could find anything amiss with it. He scanned the layout with his eyes, narrowing his eyes and zeroing in on a small chip that was definitely out of place.

Picking it up, Peter frowned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He turned the tiny chip this way and that, contemplating what to do with it. If he took it out, Mr. Osborn would certainly know. But letting the man follow his location like that made Peter uncomfortable. He didn’t like the idea of being this closely monitored, no matter who was behind it. He was supposed to remain under the radar, even Mr. Osborn’s. Being tracked by the guy kind of defeated that purpose.

The familiar sound of approaching repulsors reached his ears then and Peter tensed and quickly shoved the chip back into his phone before shutting it back up. He’d figure out what to do with it later. Right now he apparently had other things to worry about. Like, say, Iron Man flying toward him and landing on the roof right behind Peter.

“Hey, Spidey. Fancy seeing you here,” came Stark’s metallic, distorted voice.

Peter shifted and hunched his shoulders. “This is a really bad time, Stark.”

“I just want to have a little chat.”

“And I just wanted one peaceful afternoon, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

The Iron Man suit crept away, leaving Tony Stark without his armor. The man rolled his shoulders, then took a seat at the edge of the building, next to Peter. The teen stilled at the feeling of the man’s warmth radiating off his body. But when Stark allowed some space to remain between the two of them, he relaxed a little.

“I’m not supposed to be talking to you,” he said stiffly.

Stark sniffed. “Neither do I, kid, but as long as the people at the top don’t know about it, I’m cool with it. A little risk to spice my day, right? Anyway, I know who’s telling me to keep my distant—the government is less than fond of you, as you might have heard.”

“The Avengers chasing me across the city kind of made that clear, yeah.”

“Right. But who’s telling you to stay away from me?”

Peter’s shoulders tensed a little and his gaze subconsciously shifted and moved until Oscorp building was stationed right in front of him. His lips tugged down as he kept on fiddling with his phone, thinking about the chip that was tucked inside, meant to allow Mr. Osborn to keep an eye on where he was now that he felt like Peter was in too much danger.

“None of your business,” he said.

Stark shrugged. “Guess that’s fair enough. By the way, wanted to ask you—you know anyone going by the name Bartholomew Kasady? Don’t answer that, I already know the answer. Obviously you don’t. I’m thinking the name Peter Parker will ring more of a bell with you, huh?”

“How did you—”

“Your principal oh so graciously told me all about a kid in a photo I saw in the school hallway. You won your decathlon team the first place, right? That’s impressive. Made it sound like you’re basically a prodigy, which would explain how you broke twice into my tower without FRIDAY alerting me. I’m impressed. Albeit, a little baffled. Why would you sneak into Avengers Tower for food when you’re trying to keep a low profile and stay under the Avengers’ radar? Kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”

Phone chiming again, Peter glanced at the screen to see another text from Mr. Osborn telling him to return to Oscorp before he was found out.

He had to fight against the urge to smash his phone to pieces against the roof.

When Peter didn’t reply to Stark, the man kept on going. “The first time around you stole a couple of components. I wasn’t sure what you could possibly make from them, but I figured you probably had your own secret formula for these webs you use. By the way, these things are off the charts. I’ve tried to study them once. They dissolved before I got anywhere, but from what I could gather, they were impressive.”

Head staying low, Peter mumbled, “Thanks.”

“Come on, kid, you’ve gotta give me something to work with here,” said Stark after another moment of silence. “I already know who you are and you don’t see me shooting you, right? We’ve established that I’m not in the business of taking you down anymore? I think we’ve covered that already, yes, so now I’m left with my unanswered questions and you need to provide some answers so I have something to report back and keep the others off your back for a little while longer. Unless you want me to hand over your name and face to SHIELD.”

“No!” Peter blurted out. Then, slower, he added, “No, no, please… don’t tell anyone.”

“Then give me something to work with.”

Another text message drew Peter’s gaze back down. He turned off the screen and pursed his lips under the mask at the sight of Mr. Osborn once more telling him to return to Oscorp. He didn’t want to end his patrol yet—he felt like swinging around some more—but he figured it wouldn’t be the best idea to defy him right now.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet.

Stark frowned. “Where? You don’t even have a home to go back to.”

Peter threw him a look.

The man shrugged. “I did my research.”

“Your research needs some tweaking, then. I do have someplace to go, Stark, and I’m still not supposed to talk to you.” He hesitated. “Did you pay someone to help me?”

With a snort, Stark said, “I can help you without paying anyone to do it for me, kid. I don’t need a third party in this. I’m trying to keep things between us. Call it a… show of trust. I’m trusting you not to betray my current judgement, hoping you’d trust me with a few of your secrets. That way we can both get our way, eh?”

Some of the weight on his shoulders rolled off at the confirmation that Ned had nothing to do with Stark. He really was just an enthusiastic and genuinely good-hearted person who saw Spider-Man and wanted to help. That was it, no ulterior motives. That was such a nice change of pace, it actually brought a small smile to Peter’s lips.

“I’m getting this vibe off you that you’re not actually going to trust me, huh?” said Stark flatly.

“Call me crazy, but I don’t trust people who want to get on my good side to get something from me. And you’re not exactly trying to hide the fact that you’re only here because you want more information about Spider-Man.”

“Touché. I can’t even defend myself, that’s pretty much the case here.”

Peter shot out a web and prepared to launch himself off the roof when Stark added, “But for the love of God, kid, if you need something from my tower, just come in through the front door. FRIDAY will let you in. No one will chase you out of there, just stop giving me heart attacks with all the sneaking around and tempering with my AI.”

His hand faltered a bit. “I stole from you,” he said blankly.

Stark quirked an eyebrow. “Trust me, kid, you eating a bit of bread and taking some chemical components hasn’t made a dent in my pocket. I’m more pissed at you for so casually bypassing FRIDAY twice.”

Feeling torn between pride and anxiety, Peter jumped off the roof.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Are we boring you, Stark?” Fury said.

Tony waved his hand without looking up from his phone. “Oh, no, I’m completely engrossed in the conversation. You were talking about… sending us to bring Spidey in again, was it? Sorry, I’m just swamped with some company matters. You know how it is, running a successful tech company along with this whole hero side-gig. Gotta learn to multitask. Please, proceed.”

“Well, since we have your permission,” said Romanoff with a bit of amusement laced with her words.

Fury ran a hand down his face. “We need to focus here. Spider-Man is still an unknown, still out there and still not contained. We don’t know anything about him or how he came to be, which I thought you were more than interested in, Stark. Last week you were determined to try and find everything there was to know about him and now you’re sitting here, reading your company’s paperwork. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you figured something out and aren’t sharing with the class.”

Romanoff turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised inquisitively. Fury’s one visible eye was boring into Tony like he was trying to see through his blank expression and straight into his soul. He looked kind of miffed at the realization that maybe Tony knew something he didn’t.

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me, dear? I’m kind of busy,” said Tony.

“Cut the crap, Tony. What do you know?” said Romanoff.

“I know a lot of things. They don’t call me a genius for nothing, after all. That’s kind of my thing. The only one on the team who can compete with me on the knowledge department is Brucie and his IQ is still lower than mine so… I’d say I’m topping him there.”

Fury put his hand flat on the table separating them and leaned closer to Tony. “About Spider-Man, Stark. Before I lose my patience.”

“Didn’t find much, honestly,” Tony lied through his teeth. “Only ran into him a couple of times. Was kind of busy the first time around—there was a fire in the building, in case you haven’t heard. Everyone came out fine, thankfully. Spider-Man swooped in to help evacuation, unlike the Avengers who were busy doing who knows what. I gave him a free pass after that. You know, a show of gratitude for lending a hand.”

“He’s a national threat,” growled Fury. “You can’t go soft on ‘im just because he was nice to your employees.”

Romanoff shook her head. “What happened the second time you ran into him?”

Tony tapped his screen a couple of times, then sniffed and said, “Nothing much. We talked. Well, I talked. He was itching to leave. Kind of got the impression he doesn’t like hanging out with me, which is shocking. I mean, I’m Tony Stark. People line up just to take a selfie with me—”

“What a blow to your ego,” she muttered.

“—but I suppose it’s valid, considering last time we all approached him we used everything we had in our arsenal to try and apprehend him. I wouldn’t have been all that friendly in his shoes, either. By the way, are we seriously considering sending the team after a vigilante again? Because last time just turned out going so well for us, right?”

Fury’s scowl deepened. “We don’t have a choice. We need those answers ASAP. If someone is creating super soldiers, we need to know about it before it all blows up in our faces. Soon there could be an army of spider people on our hands and if you can’t handle a single one, how do you expect to deal with dozens of them?”

“Then let me deal with him,” said Tony.

“Come again?”

“The spiderling, let me deal with him. I bet I can make him talk, answer all our questions. And my way won’t involving electrocuting, shooting or blasting him in any way. He might actually cooperate if we don’t track him down and try to beat him to a pulp to take him into custody for crimes he hasn’t committed yet. Just a thought.”

Narrowing his eye, Fury said, “What did you find out?”

“So far, not much.”

“And yet you’re defending him,” said Romanoff flatly, a hint of interest in her voice. “Meaning you must have found something to make you change your mind about him.”

The image of that young teenager looking at him with wide eyes from his bar popped up in his head. Tony remembered the panic and the frustration sparkling in those doe eyes as the boy stood taller to try and compensate for his lack of intimidation or size. And he’d snarked back at Tony even without his mask on, like he had nothing to lose despite having a repulsor aimed straight at his chest.

Yes, he’d discovered something about Spider-Man. Could he even call the kid that? He was certainly not an adult. He was a teenager—sixteen, according to FRIDAY—with incredible powers and no one in his corner other than some mysterious person that Tony wanted to know more about. Call him crazy, but he didn’t feel particularly fond of the idea of attacking the kid again while knowing he was still a minor.

“Granted, I don’t have much to go off of, but from observation alone, it doesn’t look like Spidey has anyone he confides in,” he said as casually as possible. “Which makes me think whatever happened to him wasn’t as intentional as we may have assumed at first.”

“You think someone just stumbled upon these kind of powers?” said Fury skeptically.

“Stranger things have happened.”

“That’s a stretch,” said Romanoff. “The chances of Spider-Man gaining his powers by accident rather than under surveillance are incredibly low. Someone was probably doing this on purpose. These kind of things don’t just happen for no reason.” She turned to Fury. “I still think someone is trying to replicate the super soldier serum, maybe even make it better. Spider-Man is a test subject. Maybe not even the first one, but the first one we’ve seen around. We need to get more information from him.”

Tony frowned down at his phone. FRIDAY pulled up all the information about Peter Parker she could gather for him and he read through the lines, a crease forming on his forehead at the number of deaths in the kid’s life. His parents, his uncle, his aunt, his girlfriend. That was honestly impressive—if not incredibly depressing.

A part of him wanted to flip his phone and shove it under Fury’s nose. He wanted to tell him and Romanoff off for even entertaining the thought that a kid like that could possibly be up to something like world domination. Just looking at Parker’s school picture made Tony feel like the kid couldn’t hurt a fly.

Okay, so he knew the kid had enough power to hurt more than a fly, yes, but he also knew that so far Spider-Man’s been handling his adversaries with more care than any other superhero or vigilante in the area. Other than Gwen Stacy’s death being pinned on him by some hateful people, the kid had a clean record. No deaths, no excess brutality. He seemed to always be composed and go easy on people, mostly just neutralizing the criminals he was apprehending rather than physically beating the shit out of them.

How could people look at that and think the guy might be evil in his core?

Well, he did have a lot of trauma and tragic deaths in his past he could draw anger and resentment from. Honestly, if Spider-Man became a villain it wouldn’t have been hard to figure out why—with the city hating him and no one truly being in his corner, Tony could see such a thing happening. But he also had the image of Peter Parker in his head, and even though the kid had broken into his tower to steal his stuff, he’d also dropped everything to help the innocent people at Tony’s employment when that fire had started.

“Boss, he’s back,” FRIDAY informed him, voice echoing around the conference room.

Romanoff and Fury shut up and looked up before turning to look at Tony questioningly.

Ignoring them, Tony got up and shoved his phone into his pocket. “Look like I’ve got to go. I’ll let you figure out what to do next because it looks like you’re doing just fine without listening to my input. Your loss, frankly. I don’t mind. Clearly, I have other things to worry about.”

“We’re not done yet,” Fury argued. “Put your ass back down—”

“Sorry, can’t hear you. I’m already out,” said Tony as he stepped out the door, letting it shut behind him automatically. “All right, FRI, where is he this time?”

“Your workshop. Looks like he’s building something.”

Without another word, Tony stepped into his elevator and let FRIDAY take him up. It felt like forever before it stopped and let him step toward his workshop. The sound of the door opening made him fear it would startle the kid away, but his eyes immediately landed on Peter Parker sitting at one of the desks, hunched over his new creation. He didn’t even flinch at the door sliding open.

“I didn’t break in,” the kid greeted him.

“Can you break into a place when you’re allowed entry?”

The kid hummed a little. “Your AI is cool. She also thinks I’m stronger than Captain America according to the data she’s been collecting.”

“FRIDAY, are you trying to bribe the kid into liking you?”

“Of course not, boss,” FRIDAY replied smoothly.

Tony rolled his eyes and made his way toward the kid. He hovered over his shoulder and stared down at the small, sleek drone that was forming between his fingers. Peter had his tongue sticking out of his mouth, a look of concentration on his face as he kept on working without looking up at Tony even once, like he couldn’t be bothered to truly acknowledge the man’s presence there.

“Nice craftsmanship, kid. May I ask what’s this for?” said Tony, his eyes scrutinizing the drone carefully.

Peter’s hands faltered for a moment, his shoulders tensing. Then he pushed through, acting like the moment of hesitation never happened.

“What, can’t I just like building random things? You gave me permission to use your stuff. I’m taking full advantage of it.” He flashed Tony a brief, snarky smile. “Thank you, by the way. This is really helpful. Much better than asking for help or sneaking around.”

“What are you gonna use it for?” Tony pressed.

The kid sighed, then nudged a cracked phone that was resting near his elbow, a chip laying on its screen. When Tony looked a little closer he found himself wrinkling his nose at the sight of a GPS tracker.

“For the record, that is not mine,” he said immediately. “I’ll admit tracking isn’t beneath me, but not high school dropouts or… teenage vigilantes. That’s taking it a bit too far. Anyway, I didn’t put this on you, I swear to God. FRIDAY can confirm.”

Finally snapping his focus away from his drone, Peter whirled around in his chair to look up at Tony with raised eyebrows and an amused upturn to his lips. He tipped his head to the side when Tony met his gaze and held it for as long as possible, trying to convey that he was telling the truth and not masking his true intentions. Which he wasn’t. He wasn’t the one who’d put a tracker on the kid. That felt like a step too far.

Eventually, Peter shook his head and said, “Er… I know, Mr. Stark. Never said it belonged to you. I already know who put it in my phone.”

“And who’s that?”

The kid pursed his lips and turned back to his drone. “Someone who’s trying to help protect me. He’s just… worried about me. Trying to keep me safe. I’m not exactly the best at listening to people’s instructions, I guess. So he probably just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going places I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Places like…?”

With one hand, Peter gestured around vaguely.

Tony huffed. “You’re forbidden from coming here? Your guardian angel is failing miserably at keeping you safe, then. Not that you aren’t safe here. Just don’t go two floors down, Fury and his minion are right there, discussing how best to take you on.”

Peter glanced at him warily. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“We had a disagreement.”

They held each other’s gazes for a long moment, then the kid looked away once more, some of the tension in his shoulders visibly loosening. It made Tony internally celebrate the defenses the kid was possibly beginning to pull down. If he could just keep on making him feel safe around Tony, that would be great. He might actually figure out a way to get everything they needed from Spidey without drawing any blood or upsetting any teenage arachnids.

“So,” he said with a clap of his hands, “what are you going to do with the drone? Make it loop around the city with the tracker on?”

“I’m gonna program it so it follows my usual route. Mr. Os—I mean, no one would know the difference,” answered the kid. He cleared his throat and motioned for Tony to move. “Mind taking a seat or something? You’re freaking me out, just hovering like that. I feel like you’re gonna jump me or something.”

Tony easily obliged, dragging over a chair so he could sit beside the kid and observe his work.

“Question. If the tracker was created to make sure you don’t come to places as vile as my precious tower”—Peter snorted what almost sounded like a laugh—“then isn’t it counterproductive to work on a solution for that problem with the tracker right here, in the middle of my workshop? Your boss will find out and drag you out of here, wouldn’t he?”

“Not my boss,” said Peter, a screwdriver clenched between his teeth as he frowned at the drone.

“Hey, these are my stuff. Out of your mouth, please.”

The kid rolled his eyes but did as he was told. “My phone is sending the signal that I’m someplace else right now to confuse the tracker. It’s not a perfect solution, but temporarily, it’s doing its job. Haven’t gotten a single text to get out of your range so I’m guessing I’m still in the clear.”

“Oh, yes, sounds like you really love having someone down your throat about where you are and what you’re up to, kid.”

“He’s trying to protect me,” said Peter, though he didn’t sound so sure.

Tony hummed, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat. “Does he have money?”

Peter’s eyes flickered toward him. “Yes.”

“Resources?”

“Yes, he does.”

“So this guy has the means to help you, but all he’s been doing is tracking you down and limiting your actions instead of giving you money for food or a place to stay? Don’t deny that—that rooftop wasn’t random. I’ve already figured out it was where you stay most of the time. And you work for the Daily Bugle, sending selfies to a man who drags your name through the mud every chance he gets. I don’t see anyone doing such a thing if they weren’t ridiculously desperate.”

The kid remained quiet.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Peter frowned. “He’s helping Spider-Man. All that other stuff is on me.”

Tony sniffed. “And here I thought you were Spider-Man.”

They both fell silent after that.

Chapter Text

Peter felt hyperaware of the fact that right next to him was literally Iron Man. He was sitting in the man’s lab, working on his drone like this was second nature and not a place he barely knew where the people who were hunting him down lived. One of which, by the way, was sitting right next to him, whether Mr. Stark was really a threat or not.

He did take note of the fact that his spider-sense was remarkably silent, not alerting him of any type of danger. It was sort of baffling, considering how many warnings Mr. Osborn’s been throwing around when it came to Avengers Tower and Tony Stark. But it made Peter feel like he could breathe a little easier while spending time at the tower, which was nice. He could use the break, no matter how brief it was.

But Mr. Stark’s words were still echoing in his head as he kept on working on his drone. He wanted to lash out and snap at the man that Mr. Osborn was doing his best—or at least doing something to assist Peter, whereas so many other people either couldn’t care less or were actively trying to hurt and lock him up. He wanted to yell at him that he couldn’t judge Mr. Osborn when he himself was in the wrong here.

Yet… the words just wouldn’t come. He kept on pondering what Mr. Stark had said about Mr. Osborn only providing Peter with certain things. He always offered more, but Peter kept on refusing. He knew better than to take and add to the growing bill. He couldn’t pay Mr. Osborn back for everything he was doing already, he couldn’t possibly ask for more.

Mr. Stark somehow made it sound like it was still wrong, though.

“So you’re going to send this thing outside every time you go out as Spidey, correct?” said Mr. Stark after a while.

“That’s the plan.”

The man shook his head. “You’re going to need to figure something else out if your dear stalker is smarter than a doorknob.”

Peter’s head snapped around to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how your drone is going to take the exact same route all the time, which is suspicious. You need it to stop from time to time, act like it’s actually helping people. You need the route to change so it wouldn’t look robotic. Otherwise it’d be easy to realize there’s something off with the tracker. Just saying.”

Well, shit.

With a grunt, Mr. Stark pushed himself to his feet and walked away from the desk to a different part of the lab. Peter watched him curiously as he tensed. When his spider-sense still remained completely silent, finding no threat in the way the man was moving things about, he relaxed just a little again and tilted his head to the side to try and see what Mr. Stark was looking for.

It took him a while but in the end Mr. Stark returned with a box full of chips. He dropped it onto the table in front of Peter, careful not to smash the assembling drone, and the boy craned his neck to see that there were names scribbled onto the chips, identifying them all. He frowned at them all, wondering who Jocasta and Tadashi were or how they were relevant to what Peter was trying to do.

Moving chips around, Mr. Stark sat down, then pulled out one that had the name Karen on it. For a moment he hesitated, looking between Peter and the chip like he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. Straightening up, Peter tried to look like he wasn’t up to no good—which was hard when he was literally working on tricking Norman Osborn. By the unimpressed snort Mr. Stark let out, he really was doing a poor job.

“All right, don’t make me regret this, kid, yeah?” said the man. “This is an AI. An incredibly smart, well-developed and advanced AI. No, it won’t track your location and give me feedback, but it will be able to adjust your little robot’s route as it sees fit to keep Norman Osborn off your back.”

Peter gawped at the chip, then Mr. Stark’s words fully settled in his brain and he startled and leaned back. “How did you know—”

“I can put two and two together. You basically spelled it out for me. No, really, you nearly said his name earlier. And the guy’s been going down my throat for a while now, trying to learn more about what the Avengers are up to, especially concerning you. I’m insulted you actually didn’t think I’d figure it out.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Peter looked down at his nearly finished drone. He knew he should leave. He knew he was risking a lot by staying in this workshop with Tony Stark. He knew he was a terrible liar, meaning he’d slip more and more the longer the conversation would stretch, which he wasn’t all that comfortable with.

“What do you want?” he asked stiffly.

Mr. Stark furrowed his brows. “What do I want? Is this supposed to be a trick question? I’ve always wanted to unicorn but I heard those don’t actually exist. Am I supposed to say I want those answers from you? Because that you already know. And I’m getting the feeling you’re not in the mood to answer anything at the moment.”

Peter shook his head. “You’re handing me a piece of tech I would have never been able to afford myself. What do you want in return? Nothing comes for free.”

Eyes gleaming, Mr. Stark huffed. “He even got you talking like him, you know that?”

Heart hammering in his chest, Peter bolted upright. “I think I should go.”

Before he could stop himself, his hand shot up to catch the chip Mr. Stark threw his way. His fingers closed around it and he sent it a glance before looking over Mr. Stark’s face. He expected the man to have some kind of satisfied expression, but instead he looked at Peter like he was concerned or worried about him. Like he cared. Which made no sense and only made Peter want to get out of the stuffy, suffocating workshop as soon as possible.

“Free of charge, kid. Frankly, anything that sits wrong with Norman Osborn is automatically approved by me. Just do me a favor and don’t hack into some kind of high security place with this just because you can, yeah? Fury would have my head if he realized I helped someone he doesn’t even trust. Got that?”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, couldn’t find the words, and ended up simply gathering up his stuff and walking out of there as quickly as possible, his rushing blood deafening in his ears.

✧ ✧ ✧

When Ned went up to the school’s roof that day he kind of expected it to be empty again. Spider-Man hasn’t been back in over a week. In fact, it kind of felt like he has been intentionally keeping distance between himself and Midtown. Like the school gave out a beacon that warded him off, pushing him to swing in different directions. Which sucked but Ned couldn’t complain about it to anyone.

So when he opened the emergency exit door and found himself staring at a red and blue figure pacing back and forth with some kind of metal thing in his hands, he was pretty sure he stopped breathing for a moment before his brain rebooted itself. He scrambled to get closer to the vigilante, who stopped in his tracks at the sound of Ned approaching him.

“Spider-Man!” gasped Ned excitedly, his grin so wide it almost hurt. “You’re back! I haven’t seen you since you dropped by my house. Which, by way, still have no idea how you found out where I live. Not that I mind, Mr. Spider-Man. I think it’s super awesome, it’s like I’m in a spy movie or something.”

Spidey didn’t look as taken aback as other people usually were when Ned started rambling. He stood his ground, fixed his reflective lenses on Ned and just listened. Granted, his expression wasn’t visible to him, but he was pretty sure the guy wasn’t grimacing under the mask. That would have still been visible, right? Ned would have been able to see something.

“Yeah, thank you for that, by the way,” said Spidey. “That was really… nice.”

Ned beamed at him. “No problem! So what’s going on now? Anything I can help you with? I have free period now so I’m not in a rush to get anywhere. Do you need something? I mean, you probably don’t need anything, you’re Spider-Man. But if you do—”

“Actually… I could maybe use your help,” said Spidey hesitantly. “You said you were pretty good with coding, right?”

✧ ✧ ✧

They settled in the computer lab once Ned made sure it was devoid of other students. Ned picked his favorite seat and turned on a computer while Spider-Man settled above ground, swinging upside down from a web he attached to the ceiling. He watched silently as Ned put the nearly complete drone on the desk next to him and connected the chip to the computer.

God, he really hoped there was nothing too bad on this or the school would kill him for damaging a perfectly good computer.

Spider-Man said the chip contained an AI gifted to him by Tony Stark. He said it was meant to help him fly his drone to deceive someone Spidey was trying to avoid a little bit from time to time. But since it was given to him by Iron Man—who was a part of the Avengers, who were openly against Spider-Man—he wasn’t sure he could trust the chip to do its job and not have some kind of tracker, trick or trap set in place.

Basically, he needed Ned to check to see if the AI chip was safe for him to use. Ned thought it was an honor to help Spider-Man, and the fact that he was touching something that was created by Tony Stark was the cherry on top of the cake. This was so amazing, he could hardly breathe properly.

He was going to see what a Stark AI was made of. He was going to see the coding, the behind-the-scenes, everything. This was the best day of his life, hands down. He was kind of terrified Iron Man would come bursting into the computer lab and demand to know why he was messing around with his tech, but he also figured Spidey would protect him if that were to happen and he would piss off Iron Man.

Seriously, the best day of his life.

“Okay, this is a really advanced piece of tech and a really old computer,” muttered Ned. “It’s gonna take a minute to upload. Um… wanna eat something while we wait?”

Spidey hummed questioningly and Ned could feel his eyes following his movements as he picked up his backpack and pulled out the sandwich his mom had packed him for lunch. Frankly, Ned wasn’t all that hungry and he didn’t particularly like a ham sandwich. But he was smart enough to take notice of just how lean Spidey seemed to be. And his gurgling stomach wasn’t exactly quiet enough for his ears not to pick up on.

So, holding out the sandwich, Ned waved it in front of Spidey’s lenses and said, “Want this? I’m just gonna eat the leftovers back home once we’re all let out. But I don’t want this to go to waste.”

“Er, I mean, this is your food, man,” said Spidey, but there was longing in his voice. “I can’t take that.”

“It’s either you take it or I’m throwing it away,” reasoned Ned.

The vigilante hesitated for a moment longer, then reached out, grabbed the sandwich and pulled his mask over his nose to take a bite. He flipped upside down and landed back on the floor with a low thud as he hummed in contentment while chewing.

Ned tried not to openly stare but it was difficult when the elusive vigilante was standing right next to him, his mask rolled up to reveal more of his face than had ever been seen over the Internet. Spider-Man always seemed to care so much about his secret identity and keeping his real face out of sight, which made this moment extra special. It made Ned feel like maybe the guy actually trusted him to an extent.

Turning back to the screen of the computer as it loaded the AI’s code, Ned forced himself to focus solely on that and not on the person next to him. Even though his brain still registered the fact that now that the mask was pulled off his mouth, Spidey’s voice sounded different. Which caught Ned off guard for a split moment before he realized the guy was most likely using some sort of voice modulator to prevent his real voice from getting out there.

He sounded younger like that. His voice no longer struck Ned as deep and heroic, but rather young and chirpy. Almost innocent, although that made zero sense, seeing as Spidey must have seen tons of stuff that would make Ned faint on the spot. Maybe he was younger than people assumed he was, though. What if he was, like, in his twenties? Ned always assumed the guy was thirty or older but now that he was hearing his actual voice he couldn’t help but imagine someone younger than that under the mask.

No, bad Ned, he scolded himself. Finding out who Spider-Man was—even entertaining the idea of it—was bad. He couldn’t go snooping around, not when the vigilante was coming back to him for help. If he knew what was going through Ned’s head, he’d probably freak out and leave in an instant. Ned will never see him again. No, he had to just accept the mask, work with Spidey without trying to find more clues as to who he really was. This was none of his business.

“Okay, okay, it’s up,” he muttered, forcing himself to focus all of his attention on the lines of code that filled the screen. “Let’s see what I can learn from this. No promises, though, because… I mean, this is Stark tech. I’m nowhere near as good as Tony Stark, you know. But I’ll do my best, Spidey!”

“Thanks,” said Spidey with that youthful voice. He leaned down to look at the screen. “Whoa…”

Ned nodded. “Dude, this is so cool. I’ve never seen anything this complex before. Look at this, it’s still writing itself. It’s changing as we speak.”

“You can literally see it thinking,” Spidey said in awe. “I wasn’t sure Mr. Stark wasn’t lying, but this is actually an AI, isn’t it? What kind of person gives away free AI’s to people they’re supposed to arrest?”

“Tony Stark.”

“Right, yeah.”

Ned got to work quickly. He cracked his knuckles and started scanning the code for the best of his abilities. Spidey pointed stuff out from time to time, gesturing toward the screen and commenting on certain lines he seemed to find fascinating. It was surreal, sitting there and studying an AI with Spider-Man. Ned loved every second of it, which only made him more determined to do as good a job as possible.

It did catch him a little off guard, the extent of knowledge Spidey had. He figured the guy had approached Ned with this because he just didn’t have the skills required to hack or understand code. But the longer this went on, the more certain Ned was that the guy under the mask was smart enough to do it by himself. Was he just looking for a second opinion? Was he doing this to make sure this really was safe? But it sounded like he was seeing the code for the first time with Ned, so why…?

No, no, it didn’t matter. Ned just kept on studying the code carefully. Sometimes he could see Spidey tensing next to him, going rigid and sending looks toward the door of the lab. Once he actually hissed at Ned to open some other tab before ducking under a desk and disappearing from sight. Ned had enough sense to comply despite his alarm, and he did so just in time because a second later a student stepped into the room, picked up a discarded textbook and left without another word.

“I would kill for some Cheeto Puffs right about now,” muttered Ned at some point.

“Can’t help you there. I don’t exactly carry those around,” said Spidey. He was perched on the chair next to Ned, fiddling with the drone he’d brought with him while hunching over it. “I wish I had the power to just produce food, though. That would have been wicked.”

“Dude, I’d love to have this power!”

Spidey leaned back to observe his creation. “Okay, other than the code it’s still missing, I think this should work. I can test it out later, make sure it doesn’t crash into a building or anything.”

Ned clicked his tongue absently. “Well, if you’re done with that, you can go buy some Cheeto Puffs and come back.”

“Excuse you, I’m not an errand boy.”

“Yeah, but if you want me to be able to check this thing properly, you gotta let me fill my body with fuel for my brain. And that means a snack. Cheeto Puffs. Or M&Ms, I don’t care. Just something to chew on.”

“Why’d you let me eat your sandwich if you’re hungry?”

“I’m not hungry. My mouth is bored.”

Spider-Man grumbled something that sounded like he could relate to the feeling. Then he spluttered a little when Ned pulled out his wallet and handed him a five dollar bill. Frankly, Ned could do without the snack, but Spidey’d finished the sandwich what seemed like ages ago and his stomach was still growling. So if Ned could just get him to eat some more…

It took a little bit of convincing, but eventually Spidey crawled out the window with Ned’s money and left to buy a snack. Ned spent the entire time he was gone both freaking out over what his life was shaping up to be and reading through the rest of the code that kept on updating itself right before his eyes. It was one of the most confusing, fascinating tasks he’d ever done and he loved every second of it.

“Show me your secrets,” he whispered to the screen in utter awe.

By the time Spidey was back, he was already done.

He accepted the Cheeto Puffs and offered Spidey some. “Okay, okay, so I’m no expert or anything, but I didn’t find anything unsafe in there. Like, there was no encrypted parts, nothing hidden I could trace. Pretty sure Tony Stark really did just give you an AI to work with, no hidden motives. At least, there was nothing I could find.”

Spidey swallowed the crunchy snack, then hesitantly said, “Are you sure?”

“I mean, as sure as I can be. Keep in mind that you’re talking to a high schooler, not some old guy with a degree that can, like, methodically search this thing.” Ned shrugged. “It looks safe to me, man.”

“What if he asks me for my kidney one day? As, like, payment for this?”

“Why would Tony Stark need your kidney?”

“I don’t know, to experiment on it or something? How should I know? It’s just that a lot of people keep on trying to get their hands on me so they can study me and figure out how my powers work and… they’re not going for the friendly methods, you know.”

Ned grimaced. A vision of Spider-Man being strapped to a lab table with a masked doctor looming over him, ready to vivisect him, popped up in his head and made him shudder. He couldn’t imagine going through life with the knowledge that people were after him, willing to hurt him just to study his body’s functions. It was horrifying to think about.

“You have somewhere safe to go to, right?” he couldn’t help but ask.

The vigilante’s lips pressed together for a moment. “Sorta.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“The guy who lets me crash at his place kind of wants me to consent to a few tests, too,” he admitted, shifting uneasily in his chair. “I keep on saying no, but… I mean, he’s not gonna do anything to me without my approval. Obviously. He’s looking out for me, he has no reason to hurt me, right? He’s just curious, too. That’s it. I’m… I’m safe there.”

Ned blinked at him. “Dude.”

“The point is that I have someplace to stay.”

“Well…” Ned twisted the bag of Cheetos in his lap, “if you ever need someplace to go where you won’t have to worry about people coming after you with needles and, like, scalpels and stuff you can come over to my place. You know, ‘cause then you might not feel like you’re living in a horror movie.”

Spider-Man looked at him for a long moment, unresponsive. Then his lips tugged up a tad and he faintly muttered, “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Clearing his throat, Ned pointed at the computer. “Right, so… want help installing the AI onto that drone?”

Shoulders sagging in relief at the change of conversation subject, Spidey nodded and pulled himself closer to the desk. “Sure, yeah, let’s do this.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Peter watched as the drone zipped away and out of sight, the tracker from his phone tucked inside it. He sent a look toward Oscorp and prayed this would work and that he wouldn’t get an earful from Mr. Osborn later for messing with his stuff and trying to fool him. He was just trying to do his own thing, okay? Not like he was going out there to meet up with SHIELD and give himself in, right?

He sent a look down at his phone. Ned had helped him zero in on the tracker’s signal so now he could follow the drone, as well. Plus, Karen had graciously offered to share her location with him at all times to make sure Peter could find her easily. She’d downloaded herself onto his phone before he could even tell her to stop, so now he was sort of nervous but also mildly excited to have something this advanced on his phone. He could only hope Mr. Osborn would never find out about this. At least not before Peter managed to learn from Karen and create his own AI.

His eyes followed the drone’s path as it made sure to move at Peter’s speed around Queens, keeping away from Midtown, just like Mr. Osborn wanted Peter to do. Hoping for the best, Peter tucked his phone into a pocket in his suit, then rolled his shoulders and prepared to swing away from there and look for anything he could help with, but his eyes caught on an apartment building a block away from him.

Heart sinking, Peter hesitated before he swung toward it and clung to the side. Crawling up, he made his up the familiar wall and over to a window near the top. He landed on the fire escape outside, trying to be as quiet as possible so that nobody would be alerted to his presence there.

He peered in through the drawn curtains and his breath hitched.

It was a bedroom. One he’s been in countless times before. The bed was made, the nightstand organized yet covered with a thin layer of dust. There were posters on the walls—of science fiction movies and one of Harry Potter that always made Peter laugh because of how out-of-place it was. The carpet on the floor used to be white once upon a time, but then Peter came along and it was replaced with a red one.

Gwen hated it, but she also didn’t want her parents to walk into her room, look at her carpet and see droplets of blood staining it, which was why she’d switched it. Peter had protested it at first, but then he got stabbed and was more than thankful the blood stains couldn’t be easily detected. Gwen had been so smug after that, it was nearly intolerable.

He wanted to step inside. He wanted to pull the window up and crawl into the room so he could bask in everything Gwen. The pictures on the walls, the nightlamp on the bedside table, the homework that was left unmade on her desk—discarded in favor of her pulling on her shoes to go see if she could help Peter fight some maniac that terrorized the city.

His gloved fingers brushed against the windowpane as he bit the inside of his cheek and told himself not to cry. He couldn’t cry. It’s been months, he had to get over it at some point, right? He knew the grief would stay, but it was supposed to become less suffocating, less pressuring, less heavy and unbearable and unendurable. It was supposed to fade, scab over. And it did, but sometimes it felt like the wound was opening back up again and Peter’s eyes would sting and well-up and he’d feel like a little kid, just looking for someone to cling to and sob with.

Damn it, he was crying.

Peter blinked furiously, but when that didn’t help he pulled off his mask and wiped his eyes and cheeks. He sniffed and leaned more heavily against the window, closing his eyes at the feeling of the cold glass against his forehead.

He could hear her family inside. Her little brothers and her mother talking out of sight, sounding light and bright as opposed to the way they’d all been right after the death. He’d approached them after the burial, trying to find some kind of comfort with the people who always seemed to welcome him, the people who were mourning the same person he was grieving.

But then her father had started talking about how this was all Spider-Man’s fault, how he’d brought Gwen into it and caused her death, whether intentionally or not. And… Peter had fled before he could blurt out that he was Spider-Man and he already knew that he was the one to blame.

He hasn’t been able to approach any of them again. And every time Captain Stacy arrived at the scene to try and apprehend him, Peter would hesitate a second longer, his heart longing to just tell Captain Stacy the truth, apologize properly, let him take him away so he could be put behind bars the way he was meant to be.

Steeling himself, Peter wiped the last of his tears away, then pulled the mask back on and swung out of there.

✧ ✧ ✧

He didn’t have a lot of money from selling those pictures to Jameson, but Peter still used some of it to buy flowers. Once he was facing the grave, he put them on Aunt May’s headstone and then stepped back to just… look. Read what was written there, trace the letters with his eyes before doing the same with Uncle Ben’s gravestone.

The plan was to simply put the flowers, say hi, then leave again. But instead Peter found himself sitting in front of the graves, his eyes trained on them like they were the most captivating thing in the world. His chest felt tight and his eyes were stinging again, but he still managed to smile weakly, imagining he was facing his aunt and uncle instead of inanimate stones.

“It’s… been a while,” he said eventually.

No reply. Peter swallowed thickly.

“I’ve been better, I guess. It’s not really a surprise. I’m not used to being all alone, it’s not… it’s not exactly fun, you know? I guess you would know—you knew me well enough, right? I’m not much of a loner. I suppose I should have anticipated that. Maybe that’s why I can’t completely pull away from everyone. I should, though.”

He shifted his weight a little and looked down at his hands.

“Mr. Osborn is doing his best to look out for me. He’s really… uptight, you could say. Which isn’t a bad thing or anything, but he kind of makes me wish I had a bit more freedom. I mean, I get it. I’m one of a kind and a lot of people want to get their hands on me. He’s just doing his best to help protect me. It’s really nice of him. But I don’t like being stuffed like that, you know? I don’t like being forced to stay away from certain places. I guess it’s kind of stupid of me. He’s telling me these things to keep me safe and I’m just doing the opposite to, like, be a little rebellious.

“Tony Stark’s been talking to me a bit lately, too. I don’t know if you remember, but last time I came here was after the Avengers chased me all around the city. And now Mr. Stark is trying to have, like, normal conversations with me. He’s trying to… to figure out more stuff about me. He already saw my face, so that’s no longer a secret. Not from him, anyway. I don’t think he’s told the other Avengers who I am yet. I think he really wants me to trust him and… I’m not sure I can do that.”

He looked between May and Ben’s names, biting the inside of his cheek as he waited for something, anything. He wanted some kind of sign from his dead relatives that would perhaps let him know what to do next, who he should rely on and whether or not he was being smart or utterly reckless and stupid. Scratch that, he already knew he was doing dumb stuff all the time.

Nothing happened, though. His aunt and uncle didn’t seem to have any kind of opinion regarding Tony Stark. Oh well.

With a look over his shoulder to really make sure there was nobody around, Peter added, “The police is still after me. I don’t think Captain Stacy’s gonna forgive me. Ever. And the government wants to figure out what I am and stuff so… I mean, they’re the ones who sent the Avengers after me, so naturally they want me locked up. Mr. Stark sounds like he really doesn’t want to hurt me in any way and I’m trying to figure out whether I actually believe him or not. I suppose my spider-sense doesn’t really warn me when he’s around which should be good enough, but… I’m still not sure about that.

“Oh, and there’s Ned. Ned Leeds. Remember him? We used to have a few classes together. He goes to Midtown, too. Or, er, he goes to Midtown. No ‘too’ since… I don’t go there anymore. But he was nice back then, I suppose. We never really got that close. And then you… you died, Aunt May, and I stopped showing up to school so we kind of just… fell out of touch. Not that surprising, really. The only one I was close to was Gwen and she…”

His voice trailed off and he shut his eyes tightly to keep the tears at bay. Fidgeting a bit with the sleeve of his hoodie, Peter drew in a gasping breath. He had to talk about something else.

“Ned’s been helping me. He’s… he’s really, really nice. I think you would have liked him. He gave me some of his clothes and his sandwich and… and he helped me check this AI Mr. Stark gave me. He’s been really nice, yeah. And I think he’s just trying to help. Like, genuinely. I don’t think he wants anything from me. He even invited me over to his house because he thought I have no place to go. I guess I kinda don’t but Mr. Osborn lets me stay at Oscorp now. To—er—make sure I’m safe.”

Peter paused, then tugged at his sleeves and said, “I don’t know if he’s just paranoid or… or something. He keeps on saying I have to keep myself out of trouble. He’s worried I might get too hurt or get caught. And I’m not sure if I should be as concerned as he is or just keep going as usual. I feel like… like he’s limiting me a bit too much, you know? Like, I know I told him he could help, but I’m not sure his help is really… helping. He means well, though. I think. No, yeah, he totally means well. He always makes sure I’m not hurt or in trouble. That’s nice of him. I’m just not sure I can… can be what he wants me to be.”

The wind breezing through the cemetery made a few of the petals detach from their flowers and glide down to the ground. Peter shivered and wrapped the Iron Man hoodie more securely around himself, his head ducking down so his neck would be more protected from the cold.

“I think I’d better go. I’m still not sure the drone’s gonna fool Mr. Osborn so… better check on it early. Um… I’ll come back, okay? Maybe I’ll have something more important to say next time, huh? Not that this wasn’t important, of course. It’s… it’s important. Not to you—you probably don’t care, you can’t… feel anything. But to me. It’s important. Um… yeah.”

He got up and dusted his borrowed jeans. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, Peter kept on looking down at the graves.

“If you could—er—maybe send some kind of sign… to let me know what to do, you know? That would be great. Really, it would help me so much. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do or who I should trust…” He wet his lips and stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Just, anything would be appreciated, okay? I’ll… I’ll look for it. Whatever you pick, I’ll see it. Probably. Um… thanks.”

He sniffed, wiped his eyes as discreetly as possible and turned to leave.

He only took about three strides before he threw over his shoulder, “I’ll be back.”

Chapter Text

Tony got an alert from FRIDAY that the spider kid was back a little bit over a week after his last visit. This time he wasn’t with anyone else at the time, instead simply working in his workshop on improving his suit. So the moment he heard the kid was there, Tony dropped what he was doing and let FRIDAY take him up to the penthouse.

He found Peter standing in front of the fridge, tapping his foot on the floor and tugging at the sleeve of his black hoodie while scanning the stocked shelves.

“Mr. Stark, FRIDAY said I can take some of the spaghetti and meatballs you have here, but I’m not sure about it. I mean, it’s not the same as taking a piece o’ bread, right? This is worth more. Can I really take it?”

It was still a little freaky, how the kid could just tell when Tony was stepping into the room without looking. He had his back to Tony, yet he seemed to know exactly where the man was. He wasn’t even surprised, so he must have known he was coming. Was FRIDAY informing him of such stuff or was the kid just… good like that?

“You can eat whatever you want,” he said as he hopped onto a bar stool. “What happened, Normie forgot to feed you?”

Peter threw him a look over his shoulder, then turned back to the task at hand—pulling out the Tupperware of spaghetti and meatballs from the fridge. He then proceeded to following FRIDAY’s instructions so he could get himself a plate and utensils. Humming to himself, Peter poured himself quite a bit of food, then put the plate in the microwave and returned the leftovers to the fridge.

Once he was done with that, he leaned on the counter and looked at Tony. “You don’t trust me.”

Tony quirked his eyebrows. “What gave you that impression?”

“You’re keeping an eye on me. You told me I can come over here for whatever, but last time and just now you dropped everything to be with me. Are you trying to make sure I won’t steal from you again or something? Afraid I’ll hack into FRIDAY again?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t view you as a threat.”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s basic curtesy. Pepper will have my head if she hears I let a guest of mine wander around without company. So here I am, ready and willing to chat and make sure you’re not lonely or some shit.” When Peter kept on staring at him blankly, he added, “I’m being nice, kid.”

“Well, you don’t have to be. I’m fine on my own,” Peter said as the microwave beeped. He pulled out his plate and put it on the bar counter before taking a seat next to Tony, his body language still wary. “And now you’re going to stare at me while I’m eating? That doesn’t sound polite to me, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m not staring at you, I’m just sitting here.” Tony drummed his fingers on the counter. His leg started bouncing up and down. “So… what’ve you been up to lately?”

Peter slurped some spaghetti and chewed thoughtfully. “Same, I guess. The drone works, by the way. And, uh, Karen is really helpful. So… thank you for that,” he said uncomfortably. “It’s actually why I’m here.”

“And here I thought you just wanted free food,” said Tony dryly.

Peter swallowed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Tony’s eyes drifted down to the eyes of the Iron Man mask staring at him from the front of the hoodie. He was still surprised the kid was wearing his merch, especially considering the amount of wariness and resentment he was displaying around him. Then again, he seemed to be wearing the same clothes all the time so maybe he didn’t really have much of a choice.

Would it be a good idea to offer him some clothes? He didn’t think so. He didn’t think the kid would appreciate being offered more money thrown his way when he was already skeptical when it came to Tony’s motives. What if he took it the wrong way and decided Tony was trying to buy his loyalty and trust? No, if the kid asked for anything, Tony would give it. Probably. But if he didn’t… he’d better just keep his distance and let Osborn handle everything else.

“It was an accident,” Peter said, looking down at his food.

Tony frowned in confusion. “What was?”

“Me gaining these powers. It was an accident. A freak accident, it was never meant to happen. It shouldn’t have. But with my luck, it did.”

A part of Tony wanted to ask FRIDAY if she was recording this all for later, just to make sure. Another, more aware part knew it would be a really bad idea to mention such a thing. Peter was finally saying something, revealing something about himself and how he became Spider-Man. Tony would be a fool if he stopped and startled him back into silence.

Instead, he leaned his elbow on the bar, nodding at Peter to continue.

Taking in a deep breath, Peter kept on talking to his meal. “My school took us on a field trip to Oscorp. During the tour I just sort of… got lost. I wandered around and lost the rest of my class. While looking for them I just… I stumbled upon this room where there were all these studies of spiders and stuff. There were cages with different species in them and I… I don’t like spiders. I just wanted to leave.”

Spider-Man doesn’t like spiders? Tony wanted to snort. But Peter sent him one warning look to let him know he was aware of the irony and would very much appreciate it if the man shut up about it, so he kept his lips clasped, although he couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face.

“Anyway, one of the spiders managed to escape, apparently. It bit me. On the back of my hand,” said Peter. He started rubbing a certain spot on his hand subconsciously although there was nothing there to see. “I killed it on the spot, but I started feeling… really bad. Like, really bad. I got really sick for days after that. My aunt and uncle freaked out and I was sent to the hospital. Mr. Osborn sent all these people to watch over me and make sure I was all right. You know, ‘cause it was sort of his fault I was hurt in the first place.

“And then one day I woke up and I just… I felt great. I wasn’t sick anymore, I could bench-press the hospital bed, I could hear people who were blocks away from me. It was so… weird.”

“Sounds overwhelming,” said Tony.

“It was. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I used to wear glasses, but suddenly I could see perfectly well without them. I used to have asthma but that disappeared, too. I can run all over the city and barely feel out of breath. It’s awesome. But I had to play it all close to the vest because I wasn’t sure how to explain any of those changes so… I didn’t. Not to the doctors, not to my family. No one knew.”

Tony hummed and nodded. “Can’t blame you. This sounds like a weird thing to wake up to. I would’ve probably been a little freaked out at first.”

Peter ate some more, still not looking up at Tony. For the first time since he saw him, Tony thought Peter looked so… small. His clothes were obviously too big for him because the hoodie was basically swallowing him whole. But it looked like he was trying to drown in it just then, burrowing into the fabric like it could protect him somehow.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t really want these powers,” Peter continued eventually. “I didn’t want to do anything with them, so I just tried to ignore them. I learned how to control them the best I could, but otherwise I just… let them be. Didn’t want anything to be different, didn’t want anything to change. I didn’t see the point. But I was frustrated and annoyed because I had these powers and I couldn’t just get rid of them or make them go away.

“I snapped at my uncle and then ran out of the house to… to let off some steam, I guess. It was just a bad day in general. Everything seemed to go wrong and I wanted him to get off my back because he acted like he knew what I was going through when he had no idea. How could he, I never told him…”

The kid’s tone was darkening the longer he talked and Tony got the distinct feeling this story was going to take a turn for the worse. He knew his entire family was gone. He knew his parents had died and then his uncle and aunt followed along, too. But he never really bothered checking to see how all these people had died. He kind of felt like an idiot for overlooking that part.

“This convenience store got robbed while I was in it. I wanted to get myself a snack but didn’t have enough money. The cashier refused selling me the snack—I don’t even remember what it was anymore—and I became even more upset. And as I was going to leave, this man showed up, levelled a gun at the cashier and demanded all the money in the register. And I just watched the whole thing and… didn’t move. I didn’t care. I was satisfied because that jerk was getting robbed right after he wouldn’t let me buy something when I didn’t have, like, a cent.”

“You were a kid,” said Tony carefully. “No one expected you to act against someone with a gun.”

Peter’s face fell. “Do you know how easy it is to handle people with guns? My powers barely register them as a threat. They’re so easy to dodge and handle, it’s ridiculous. I could have taken that guy down had I just cared enough to try. Instead I walked away like an asshole.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“My uncle was better than me,” said Peter, his voice choked and raw. “Apparently he’d decided to come after me, to bring me back home so we could talk things out. He saw the robber running away with the money and heard the cashier calling for help. He didn’t even hesitate—he just jumped ahead and tried to stop him. And that guy shot him, then ran out of there. Like he didn’t just end someone’s life over, like, a hundred bucks tops.”

Feeling a little sick, Tony’s hand stilled as he looked at the kid. “I’m sorry.”

Peter didn’t reply. He was staring down at his hands, watching them like he could see something covering them—probably the blood of his uncle. Tony could relate, if not all the way. He still remembered watching as the light left Yinsen’s eyes in that cave. But while Yinsen had wanted to die and join his family, Tony was pretty sure Peter’s uncle had a lot to live for still.

Hesitantly, he brought a hand up and let it hover over the kid’s shoulder for a long moment before he finally let it drop. He wasn’t surprised when Peter tensed at the physical contact, although relief washed throughout his body at the feeling of the kid relaxing and leaning into the touch a bit, eyes closing as he seemed to focus solely on that.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t look the other way again after that,” muttered Peter after a while, voice small. “I didn’t want anyone else to go through that if I could help it. My uncle had the right idea, trying to stop that man, but he didn’t have the tools to deal with it. I did. I do. My choice to stand by and do nothing… it got him killed, whether it was on purpose or not. That’s not gonna happen again if I can help it.”

Tony hummed. “That’s a very heavy burden to carry there, bud. You can’t save everybody.”

“I can try.”

“You’ll run yourself to the ground. You need to rest from time to time. The world is better with you out there, but if you don’t take care of yourself too if won’t matter whether or not you’re any good at this.”

Peter pulled away from him and didn’t say anything for a few long moments, instead just staring down at his hands again. Then he reached out, took a forkful of spaghetti and meatballs and stuffed his mouth with it. His eyes were still distant, like his mind was trapped in a memory, but Tony could see the way he was fighting to pull himself back to the present.

The silence lingered. Tony let the kid’s words swirl leisurely around his head, processing them and what they meant at his own pace. He couldn’t imagine having all this trauma at such a young age. Had he still not known about this, he would’ve had no idea Peter had such a anecdote to share. He looked so carefree and innocent, a troublemaker testing his limits.

But the scary thing was that… looking back, Tony couldn’t help but wonder whether all of Peter’s risks of getting close to him again and again while still not trusting him were more than just a lack of self-preservation. Sure, he was still a kid and kids did a lot of stupid things out of a whim. Hell, Tony himself did the same. But this felt different. What if the kid calculated the risks and just came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter whether he got in trouble or not? What if he just… didn’t care?

That was scarier than a lot of the weapons Tony’s company used to make.

God, he hoped that wasn’t the case. Although it wouldn’t surprise him exactly. He already knew Peter was all alone, no one but Norman Osborn in his corner. Parents—dead. Uncle—dead; murdered, apparently. Aunt—dead. Girlfriend—dead. He was literally the personalization of depression and grief. Or, well, he would have been had he stewed in it a bit more. And maybe he did wallow in these feelings every now and then, but every time Tony’d encountered him, the kid acted like a smartass rather than a kid crumbling under the pressure of the world.

“Is this the part where I share my trauma?” said Tony, then cringed at his own words.

Was sarcasm the way to go right now? He had no idea. How the hell do people deal with teenagers? With angsty, grieving, lonely teenagers, to be exact.

Luckily, Peter’s lips tugged up into a faint smile in response. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Stark, but your life story is basically common knowledge by now. If I wanna know all about your trauma all I need to do is look you up or open your Wikipedia page.”

“Oh, but all the juicy, gruesome details aren’t online, kid.”

“I’ll pass on those,” he said flatly.

“Your loss.”

Peter swallowed another meatball, then said, “I’m super strong. Never tested it out and I wouldn’t let Mr. Osborn do it because…” the kid trailed off for a moment, then shook his head and continued. “Anyway, it’s not tested but I think I have the proportional strength of a spider. Supposedly, it means I can lift about ten tons but I’ve lifted way heavier than that—don’t ask,” he added when Tony opened his mouth.

Furrowing his brows, Tony stared at the kid. “You can lift more than ten tons? Are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“That’s more than Cap and his cyborg friend can do.”

The kid’s smile grew at the words. “Well, Captain America’s serum was meant to push him to the limits of what a human body can achieve, right?” he said, then waited for Tony’s confirmation. “Well, I’m not like that. That spider bite didn’t push me to my limits. It… it changed me, all the way down to my molecular structure. I tested it once to see what the hell’s going on with my body, you know? When I was sick it happened because my body’s code rewrote itself. I’m literally part spider now.”

Tony eyed him critically from head to toe. “As long as I don’t have to use a broom to knock you off my ceiling, we’re good.”

A startled burst of laughter left the kid’s lips. His eyes widened, like he was surprised by his own reaction. But then he just smiled, looking more relaxed as he twisted the spaghetti on his plate around his fork.

“Basically I’m saying that Captain America’s strength is still limited. He can’t do more than the human body is capable of. I, on the other hand, am limited by the restrictions a part-human part-spider would have. And so far these parameters are very different.”

“Right. I’ll remember to call you next time I want someone to punch Rogers in the face. Go on.”

“Anyway… yeah. So I’m super strong. I’m also really fast. I can’t even explain it. I wasn’t really all that fast before I got bitten, but now I move much faster. People told me that they can barely see me move sometimes but when I see the videos I don’t really see the speed. I can follow it all just fine. I suppose it’s because my brain can just process everything quickly enough, too. Can you imagine moving quicker than your brain can process? I don’t think that’s physically possible, actually.”

He already knew the kid was fast. Considering the fact that Tony was very much wholly human, he could observe quite easily during the Avengers’ chase after the kid that he could move exceptionally fast when necessary. He still had some footage from that day saved somewhere and he knew some of it was blurry due to the fact that his camera couldn’t follow Spidey’s speed all that well.

“All my senses are heightened, too. I’m pretty sure I can see more than regular humans can. Like, there are moments when I see stuff that others around me don’t. It took me a while to realize what was going on, but… yeah, my eyes can see lights that aren’t on the visible spectrum. There’s the hearing, of course. This one sucks sometimes. Like the smell one. We live in New York. Everything is loud and smelly, it’s not really pleasant. But it helps when I hear a cry for help from afar, so there’s that.”

Tony was really hoping FRIDAY was taking notes because he was already beginning to lose it. The kid didn’t even sound like he was getting close to being done, which was alarming.

Playing some more with his food, Peter made a little humming noise. “Oh, I have a really fast metabolism. It’s how I heal fast. It’s really helpful, but it’s not the best when I can’t pay for the food I need to sustain myself. My body burns through the calories so quickly, I’m starving basically all the time. I can never eat enough to satisfy my hunger, and then all of my power start acting up because I can’t give them what they need.”

“Which explains why you drop by to steal my food,” said Tony.

“You offered,” the kid said defensively.

“You started this before I offered.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “This is my second time taking your food. Stop whining about it. The last time I ate was yesterday afternoon. A sandwich and some Cheetos. And you’re complaining because I’m taking a little bit of the stuff you have here, like you can’t afford more.”

Tony frowned at him. “Doesn’t Osborn give you food?”

The kid pretended not to hear him.

“I’m also sticky—but you probably know that already,” said Peter. “That’s actually a really weird power, but I love it. I also don’t get headrushes when I stay upside down too long. I slept that way once and woke up feeling perfectly fine. I’m really flexible, too. Again, never tested it. I just know I can curl in real tight or bend in ways that kinda make me feel less like a human and more like…”

“Let me guess—a spider,” said Tony.

Peter flashed him a sheepish smile. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Sniffing, Tony leaned back and crossed his arms. “You can say that again. Okay, so other than those powers I know you also have those web-shooters of yours. They’re not really powers, though. Well, not a biological one like the others. I don’t suppose you’re gonna explain how you made the webs?”

“Nuh-uh. Gonna take this secret with me to my grave.”

“A shame, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He exhaled slowly. “Okay, that’s… a lot.”

“There’s one other power, actually.”

Tony stared at him blankly. “You’re kidding.”

The kid grinned. “I call it my spider-sense.”

“You’re kidding,” Tony said again.

Taking his time, Peter took another two bites from his food and hummed thoughtfully to himself, staring at the lines of alcoholic bottles that were spread before him all across the wall. He seemed to revel in Tony’s growing impatience, which was… incredibly annoying.

When he went to take another bite of food, Tony snapped, “I swear, I’m gonna take away your spaghetti if you don’t explain yourself.”

Peter put down his fork with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. My spider-sense. It’s like… a danger sense. A sixth sense I have that feels like a buzz or an itch in the back of my head. It acts up when something bad is about to happen. It’s how I can dodge without even seeing the danger with my own eyes. My brain basically screams at me to move, so I move. If I don’t listen, I tend to get hurt.”

“Well, shit.” Tony stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Yeah… it’s really helpful. It’d saved my life more than once. It can also be a huge headache when it perceives stuff like a fly buzzing a little too close as pure evil. I got so many detentions back when I went to Midtown just because I couldn’t concentrate since there was a fly in the class and my spider-sense would go nuts. It’s a huge headache when that happens. Plus, it floods me with anxiety and adrenaline, which isn’t helpful when I’m supposed to be listening to the history of the United States.”

Tony blinked at him. “Seriously. You and Steve—one on one. It will make my day.”

The kid chewed on some more spaghetti. “The last thing I need is for someone to catch me punching a national hero on camera. People don’t like me as it is. Captain America being victimized by me would turn me into the jerk of the century. They’ll send the army after me, Mr. Stark. They’ll send you and all the other Avengers after me again. I’m not in the mood for another one of those sessions.”

“Me neither, kid.”

They fell silent for a while after that. Tony pulled out his phone and took care of some of the stuff Pepper asked him to do. He would have ignored it all some more, but the kid looked very self-conscious, eating under Tony’s unrelenting gaze, so work seemed like a nice distraction. Something to pull his attention away from the teenager beside him.

When the plate was left empty, Peter just opened the fridge and rummaged through it, looking for more food he could eat. He sent Tony a look before taking anything out, as if to make sure he wasn’t crossing any lines. Once he received the go-ahead from him, though, Peter let himself take a bit of everything. Tony pretended not to hear the way the kid’s stomach growled hungrily while he was waiting for the food to heat up.

The kid was busy eating his mountain of food so Tony let his mind wander. He tried to wrap his head around the fact that he had so many powers. And from his observations and Peter’s explanation, it sounded like the powers he shared with Rogers were more enhanced. The idea that the unassuming teenager beside him could lift more than Captain America was mind-boggling. Tony could hardly wrap his head around it.

He had to admit the stickiness really was an odd power, too. Not that Tony thought it was useless or anything, Spidey did a lot of stuff with this power that made it more than worth it. And the fact that it all came from a spider kind of explained where the hell it came from. And that sixth sense for danger… that was just unheard of. Tony’s never heard of anything like it. He couldn’t even imagine having a power like that one. Although it would be really useful, of course—possessing precognition.

With all these powers Tony was almost amazed at the fact that he and the Avengers were all still in one piece. This kid’s been capable of doing so much, yet he’d held back even while being chased by them all. And for no good reason, in his eyes. No good reason, period. He could have thrown that shield right back at Cap. He could’ve crunched the Iron Man suit if he so much as wished to, Tony was sure of it.

Not to mention the kid’s mind. He was crazy smart, Tony was already aware of that much. It took a genius to bypass FRIDAY, no matter which method people chose to use. And Peter managed to do so twice. With parts from the trash. To make his web fluid and eat something. He could’ve broken in to steal something valuable or to take revenge on Tony or the other Avengers, yet all he did was… use a couple of chemicals and eat a sandwich.

Mind… blown.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Tony asked eventually.

The kid looked away from the gravy left on his plate, briefly made eye contact with Tony, then looked back down. He tugged at the sims of his hoodie and fiddled with the fabric between his fingers.

“Because you gave me an AI,” he said quietly. “I felt like I should give you something back.”

Nothing comes for free. Peter had told Tony that. And the words reeked of Norman Osborn.

“You don’t need to pay me back for giving you stuff, kid,” he said.

Peter didn’t answer. Instead he started smearing the gravy with his fork, spreading it all over the plate as if to draw something with the sauce. Tony watched him silently, wondering what was going through the kid’s head. He couldn’t imagine him being this way from the start. This idea of repaying people for their kindness couldn’t have come from his parents and aunt and uncle, could it? It must have been Osborn’s work, all of it. But then how could Tony undo it?

“How did you and Norman Osborn come in contact, anyway?” he asked after a while. “I know him. He doesn’t usually associate himself with random kids. And he never particularly cared for the vigilantes or heroes in this city before you came along.”

The kid wet his lips. “I told you, he’s been around when I first got bitten. He… he figured out I was Spider-Man really quickly because of that. Who else could it have been?”

“Doesn’t explain why he’s trying to help you now.”

“He asked if he could. Eventually I said yes.”

Tony frowned. “Eventually?”

Shifting uneasily, Peter stared down at his plate with a crease between his eyebrows. “He asked me from the start if I’d like his help. I said no because I figured I could handle it by myself. He kept on asking after that and I just didn’t see the need to accept. I… I wasn’t sure about it. But then Gwen was killed and…” He bit the inside of his cheek and hunched his shoulders. “I messed up and I didn’t want anything like that to happen again. I needed help. So I said yes.”

“Guidance is good,” said Tony slowly. “Is that it? Is he helping you be a better vigilante?”

“Not exactly,” said the kid. He glimpsed at Tony for a brief moment, then gazed back down. “He’s trying to keep me safe, for the most part. You know, ‘cause so many people are after me. He’s telling me who to avoid, what not to do, where I shouldn’t go—”

“Advice you obviously take to heart.”

Peter’s lips twitched. “I appreciate everything he does. It’s just… I guess I like trusting my instincts more.”

“So you do trust me,” said Tony with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But your instincts brought you here.”

“My gratitude and crushing-obligation brought me here.”

“You say ‘obligation’, but all I hear is ‘trust’. No worries, kid. You don’t need to be ashamed of your gut feeling leading you to me. I know I’m not the best role model but I can assure you that no one’s going to judge you for visiting me every now and then to steal my food.”

With an eyeroll, Peter leaned back in his seat and let go of his fork. He looked like he was trying to scowl to show his displeasure, yet his eyes were crinkled mirthfully and his lips were twitching upward against his will, so Tony figured he was fighting back a smile. It made him feel irrationally proud of himself.

“That being said…” continued Tony, “do you really think it’s a good idea to be working with Norman Osborn of all people?”

The levity in the kid’s expression evaporated as he turned to eye Tony critically. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“You want me to dig in his backyard and unravel all the skeletons buried there or are you looking for a vaguer response than that?”

“What skeletons? Mr. Stark, Mr. Osborn is a good man, you know. He’s trying to help me, not… not…”

“Use you?” said Tony.

The kid did not look impressed. “He’s not using me. He’s offering me support and a sanctuary. Which is more than a lot of people in the city have done. Is this some kind of company rivalry you’re trying to pull me into? Because I don’t want to get involved in what goes on between Osborn and SI, okay? It’s not really any of my business.”

“It’s got nothing to do with that, no. It’s more about the fact that Osborn’s been doing some shady stuff over at Oscorp for years. Honestly, your first clue should have been how a high school kid managed to get lost in his building and walk into a room where there was an experiment going on, no questions asked.”

“So this would have never happened here? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Er… yes.”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest and turned to glare at the fridge. “Sure. Because your security has been proven as far superior. Not like a high school kid managed to break into your own personal space or anything, yeah? I must have imagined that.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, all right, not my best comparison there. But you can’t tell me you never suspected there was something going on there. That man gives me creepy vibes every time we have to meet. It’s why I try to avoid these business meetings if I can. Only go if Pep forces me to. Actually, the fact that Oscorp’s been working on spiders that could enhance humans is already a red flag if I’ve ever seen one—”

“It’s not a red flag! He’s doing experiments. People do that. It’s what his company is all about,” the kid protested heatedly. “Everyone knows people over the years have been trying to replicate the super soldier serum, okay? It’s not a secret. It’s a great formula, of course people would want to use it again. And now Oscorp found something very similar that worked and you’re… you’re just freaking out over it, like it’s the end of the world. You and SHIELD, you don’t want anyone else to have these kind of abilities, but if they belong to you it's all right, huh?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you’re thinking!”

Groaning, Tony shook his head. “No. What I’m thinking… I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. I’m thinking that since you’re the only spider person we’ve heard of, that experiment at Oscorp only worked on you. Norman knows that, which is why he really wanted to keep you around. Not to help protect you from the world, but to make sure his one good test subject survives long enough for him to study what made that spider bite work on you specifically.”

“That’s not true!” shouted Peter.

“I think that from everything you’ve told me this guy is treating you more like one of his assets than an actual human being. He doesn’t care about Spider-Man or the people out there you’re trying to save. All he cares about is his precious work and the formula that’s in your body. He’s keeping you safe for his own personal gain, kid. That’s what I think.”

“And SHIELD is just so much better than that, right?” Peter said loudly as he pushed himself away from the bar. He started pacing back and forth, hands clenched by his sides. “They would never try to study my enhancement or figure out how they can possibly replicate it, would they? No, they’re all saints. You all are. Not like you’re only getting close to me so you can have more information to use against me later or anything like that. God, I shouldn’t have come here…”

“I won’t deny that SHIELD is probably counting on getting their hands on you to study you. Fury is a paranoid piece of shit, he’ll do anything to get his hands on more powers he could use to fight off all the dangers closing in on our world,” said Tony as he got up, eyes following the kid as he kept on striding back and forth. “But I’m not doing this for SHIELD. They want to capture you. I’m trying to give you space because clearly no one else is doing it for you.”

Peter tangled his fingers in his hair and shook his head from side to side. “No, no. This is exactly what Mr. Osborn’s been warning me about. He said you’d do anything to get me to trust you and he was right. I should’ve listened to him.”

“Of course he’d say that. I’m trying to help and he’s scared his most valuable asset will up and leave if he found something better to go toward,” snorted Tony.

The kid didn’t say anything. He just gritted his teeth and kept on pacing, pacing, pacing. His hands tugged at his hair, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the least as he shut his eyes. He looked like he was trying to block everything else out, mostly Tony’s voice. Didn’t seem to be working that well for him, though.

Tony threw his hand out to gesture toward the Oscorp building that was visible through the wall of windows. “You really wanna tell me you don’t see that he’s using you? Kid, Norman Osborn is manipulating you. He would have done more for you had he actually seen you as anything more than an object or a means to an end. He doesn’t see a human or a teenager or a living being. He only sees a weapon and an asset that he can utilize—”

“I KNOW!”

The penthouse fell silent as Tony stared at the kid. Peter stopped pacing, his hands falling back down to his sides, fingers twitching like he was itching to move. His eyes were open again, staring out at Manhattan with an expression that was somewhere between anger and resignation. His chest was inflating and deflating, his shoulders going up and down with his heavy breaths.

Time felt like it was standing still, which could possibly explain why Tony couldn’t find the energy to suck air into his lungs. He felt too stunned, too caught off guard by Peter’s admission to respond properly. He expected more denial, maybe; not this—not the kid agreeing with him. This felt… off. It made all of this feel grander and smaller, all at the same time.

In a small voice, Peter said, “I know. I know all of that. I’m not an idiot. I can put two and two together. But out of all the people out there who wanna use me, he’s at least trying to help me, too. SHIELD’s been attacking me, the government’s planning to try and send the army after me. Mr. Osborn isn’t perfect, but he’s the lesser of… all the other evils.”

His hands tugged at the sleeves of his Iron Man hoodie. “All I have are bad choices. I’m doing the best I can with them.”

Tony managed to catch his wrist right as Peter made to step out to the balcony and leave. The kid could break free of the grip with ease, Tony knew, yet he stopped moving and didn’t immediately slip away, which he took as a good sign. Or, well, not a completely bad one.

“There are always more options. You always have a choice, kid.”

Peter turned to search his face, his brown eyes flitting all over Tony’s features like he was looking for something. He wasn’t sure what this thing was, so he held as still as he could, trying to convey his sincerity—something he got the feeling the kid was used to being deprived of.

In the end Peter twisted his wrist free and stepped back and away from Tony. He shot out a web that attached itself to the top of a neighboring building, preparing to carry Peter’s weight as he swung away. But the kid hesitated still, not jumping off and leaving quite yet. Instead, he threw Tony one more look and bit the inside of his cheek in thought, his brows scrunched together.

“Who’s to say this other choice is any better than the others?” he said plainly, then jumped.

Tony watched him until he was out of sight, then punched the wall next to him, hissed in pain and stepped back into the penthouse and toward the elevator.

“FRIDAY, pull up everything you can find about Norman Osborn. We have some digging to do.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, man! I was gonna watch the next One Piece episode once I got back home! Just let me go!”

“No way, you watch One Piece?” said Peter as he swung upside down in front of the webbed thug. “I started watching it at some point but then life got in the way and I had to stop. Hey, is it still any good? Maybe I should get back to it. You know, when I have the time.”

The man squirmed in his sticky prison and grunted when the webs wouldn’t give. The woman he’d tried to steal a purse from was already long gone. She’d left the moment Peter got the guy off her back and returned her purse to her, fleeing the scene in a way that made it obvious she was terrified of Peter as much as she was of the thug himself. Which was sort of rude but Peter was used to it.

“Come on, you prevented the crime. No harm, no foul,” the man tried to say. “Just let me go. Come on… be a pal, Spidey.”

Peter tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I could, I s’pose. But… nah, I have this nasty habit of leaving wannabe criminals for the police to handle. You know, the justice system.”

“The justice system sucks, dude.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? But hey, I’m not a judge so I can’t grant you your freedom. I can only keep you company until the police arrives. Doesn’t sound like they’re in the area yet, by the way. So what’s the verdict—want me to leave you be or should I stay here and… risk getting shot at, I suppose?”

The man groaned loudly, fighting against the webs some more. When nothing seemed to change and Peter kept on staring at him through the lenses of his mask, the man slumped down and looked at the ground of the dingy alley. His nose scrunched up in distaste and his lips twisted and pursed.

“Fine,” he said eventually. “Stay. Whatever. See if I care.”

To show his glee, Peter straightened his legs, then let them curl into a crouch again. “Awesome! What d’you wanna talk about? Wanna tell me all about your day so far? Must have been better before I caught you, eh? You probably have some interesting stories to share. Come on, entertain me.”

“Doesn’t your head hurt from staying this way for so long?”

“Nope. I—” Peter cut himself off at the sound of a guy calling for help not too far away from him. “Oops, gotta go, duty calls. Sorry, buddy, but I think I can hear the police sirens getting closer so you’re gonna be in good hands real soon, kay? Kay. See you ‘round, make better choices!”

He swung away in the direction of the distressed cry. A few kids on the way noticed him and shrieked excitedly while tugging at their parents’ hands in order to get away and chase him. He waved at them as he passed by, trying to ignore the distrustful looks the adults sent him. He had to remind himself not to take it to heart. So most people didn’t like him—no big deal. He could handle a few dirty looks and nasty comments every once in a while. It was… it was good. That was how people prevented themselves from getting big heads, right?

Another cry for help from the guy made him modify his direction just a tad. He was getting closer. But the strange thing was how the closer he got to the place where that man was in trouble, the emptier the streets were. And after growing up in New York and seeing it in all sorts of different disasters and celebrations, Peter could pretty confidently state that empty streets were an odd and unusual occurrence.

His swinging faltered a little at the feeling of a nagging itch at the back of his head. He landed gracefully on a rooftop and looked around, his hand coming up to rub his neck as he scanned his surroundings with narrowed eyes and a wary stance. Why was his spider-sense acting up? Why now? He couldn’t see anything that could be considered a threat to him. The only thing standing out was the fact that the streets were vacant.

Peter hesitated for a moment longer, but when nothing changed he pushed the worry to the back of his mind the best he could and kept on swinging toward the man calling for help. He knew this was strange, he knew this was unusual. But there was someone in danger and he had to take care of it before worrying about whatever it was that was making anxiety course through his veins.

He was a few blocks away when he heard it—whispers; people attempting to keep as quiet as possible. Letting go of his web, he clung to the side of an apartment building next to a window that revealed a cozy living room where a man was watching a cartoon. At the sound of Spider-Man landing outside, though, he nearly spilled a cup of tea all over himself, spluttering at the sight of a person sticking to his wall.

Peter locked eyes with him and put his finger to his mouth. The man gawped for a second longer, then picked up his remote and muted his TV. It wasn’t much, considering there were plenty of other loud noises all over New York, but it was something, so Peter nodded at him gratefully as he strained his ears to try and figure out what the whispering voices were saying.

“—my order—”

“—silent and swift—”

“—should be enough to—”

“—evacuated—”

“—can’t know—”

“—will come here—”

“—won’t ignore the bait—”

Underneath his mask, Peter’s eyes narrowed. He waved a good-bye toward the man in the apartment, then proceeded to creep up to the top of the building. He crouched on the roof after scanning the area to make sure there was nobody else in view of him. Silently, he made his way toward the edge and looked down to try and spot anything out of the ordinary or the people who were talking.

The first people he noticed were stationed at a few windows, discreetly peering out without being too obvious, their hands supporting guns that were aimed down at an alleyway. They were all wearing black vests—bulletproof, he figured. From there he managed to spot more people, all of them with different weapons aimed toward the same spot, which was… foreboding.

Peter carefully made his way closer to the alley while keeping out of the people’s line of sight. There were several men crouching on top of the buildings surrounding the alley, all of them armed and waiting, their eyes scanning the area carefully. Peter made sure they couldn’t see him as he proceeded to study the scene before him, his spider-sense remaining this low buzz in his head to let him know the situation was dangerous yet he wasn’t yet being targeted.

“Any sign of him?” someone whispered.

“Negative,” another person hissed.

The first one let out a low growl. “Garwood, we need another cry for help.”

Peter tensed when he noticed a person in the alley, also clad in a vest like the others, opening his mouth and yelling for someone to come help him because he was getting violently pushed around and robbed. That was the call Peter’d heard. He shivered and crouched lower on his rooftop.

“What if this doesn’t work?” whispered a woman. “What if he still doesn’t show up?”

“We’ve been over this, he’s going to come. This is what he does. The bug can’t ignore a cry for help. He’s gonna be here any minute.”

With a gasp, Peter flattened himself on the roof, his eyes owlishly blinking at the cement below him as his mind raced. This was a trap. For him. These people were trying to capture him, although he wasn’t even sure who’d sent them. The government, right? Someone at the top who wanted Spider-Man off the streets. Maybe this was a police force? Although he couldn’t see any letters on their vests, and it wasn’t just because he was too far away.

Whatever, he could figure all of this out later. Right now he had to get out of there without getting caught. He couldn’t let them see him. He had to sneak away and go to safety. His rooftop, or Midtown. Maybe he could just return to Oscorp, although he wasn’t sure how fond he was of the idea. He just wanted… he wanted to feel safe.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of the song Gone, Gone, Gone coming from Peter’s pocket. He blanched and scrambled to pull out his phone and silence it, but it was already too late. His spider-sense spiked at once and he flipped up and off the roof at once, just barely dodging nearly five bullets sent his way.

“He’s swinging away!” someone yelled.

“Fire, now!” another cried.

Peter shot out webs, quickly making his way down the streets of New York. He took random turns, trying to keep moving, keep away from the people chasing him. The only good thing was that this time it didn’t look like there were any enhanced people like the Avengers. These were regular humans who’d been counting on Peter falling into their trap. They couldn’t possibly keep up with him.

He took a few twists and turns, randomly proceeding without truly checking where he was going. It didn’t matter where he was headed, as long as these people wouldn’t be there and he’d feel safe again. His spider-sense helped him dodge a few more bullets, but soon enough it quieted down and let Peter know he was far enough away, that he’d lost his chasers.

He kept on going, though. He didn’t stop until he was sticking to the window of Mr. Osborn’s office, tapping the glass frantically to draw his attention and make him open up. Unfortunately, Peter lost control of his power and found himself shattering the glass accidentally, the pieces raining down and startling him. He gawked at his own mistake with his blood thundering in his ears.

Mr. Osborn looked up with a frown, his expression turning dismayed at the sight of the broken window.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” said Peter once he got over his shock and crawled inside. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I was running away from—”

“SHIELD agents,” Mr. Osborn said. “Yes, I know.”

“How did you—”

Mr. Osborn cut him off with one swift gesture toward the screen of his computer. Peter peered at it as he stepped closer, careful not to step on the shattered glass, and his heart sank at the sight of a news channel already covering the attempt at capturing him. The reporter was talking about the evacuation of the area—just in case—and the failed plan. Apparently it was already common knowledge that Spider-Man had evaded capture again.

“You know what I find curious, Peter?” said Mr. Osborn in an even voice. “The fact that your tracker is informing me that you are, in fact, currently still at Queens, doing your patrol. I’m assuming that’s false, seeing as you’re standing right in front of me… after breaking my window.”

Cringing, Peter sent a look over his shoulder to watch the hole he’d created, then the beginning of the sentence computed in his brain and he felt the way the blood drained from his face.

“I—are you sure—I mean, that’s a little—does it really—there’s a… there’s a tracker?” stuttered Peter as he crossed his arms over his chest and shuffled his feet.

“Peter, you’re smarter than that. Of course there’s a tracker. How else was I supposed to keep an eye on you,” said Mr. Osborn wearily. “My question is how it’s still moving around in Queens when you’re here?”

“I dropped my phone.”

The man arched an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t know there was a tracker, yet you knew it was in your phone? I wonder how that is, Peter.”

“I… um…”

“Unless you’re lying to my face, of course—”

“Of course not!”

Mr. Osborn didn’t say anything. Instead, he just picked up his phone and tapped the screen. Peter’s entire body flinched at the sound of his ringtone filling the office loud and clear. He wanted to kick himself, but instead he tore his gaze away from Mr. Osborn and quickly declined the call before beginning to fiddle with his phone.

“So,” said Mr. Osborn as he sat back down at his desk, his fingers interlocking as he gazed at Peter. “I wonder how you expect me to help you when you keep on refusing to listen to me. I’m going to be honest with you, Peter, it feels like you’re regretting accepting my offer to assist you. You fight with me about every single step I take to try and keep you safe and out of danger.”

Peter shook his head frantically. “N-no! I’m just… I do appreciate—er—everything you’ve done for me. Doing. Everything you’re doing for me. Sir. It’s just a lot sometimes. It feels… feels like a bit too much. I mean, I can still take care of myself, so—”

“You don’t have a home to go back to, Peter. You have all these powers yet you don’t even know what you’re capable of. Every time I try to convince you to finally do a check-up, you turn me down. It’s completely your choice, but you are heading out there without all the information and it’s not a good thing. I need to know exactly what you are capable of, what you can handle and when you should back off because the odds are stacked against you. Do you realize how absurdly dangerous what you’re doing is?”

“Yes, I know—”

“I don’t think you do. You are clearly not bettering yourself, not enough. You’re at the same level you’d been before I joined the picture, which I take as a personal offence, Peter. I’m here to help you become better and you’re stubbornly sticking by your pride instead of your brain. You should listen to logic, Peter, you’re a smart kid. You should know your limits, your capabilities, what you can handle. So tragedies don’t occur again.”

Peter’s breath got knocked out of him and he exhaled heavily, taking a step back from Mr. Osborn as his eyes watered behind his mask. Gwen’s smile popped in his head, her laughter ringing in his ears. Then he recalled her terrified expression as she was tossed off the Brooklyn Bridge, her scream shrill and mortified, crying out for him to save her.

He backed away further in a rush when his spider-sense tingled in the back of his head. He looked up and tensed at the sight of Mr. Osborn standing before him, hand held out to pull Peter’s mask off his face. Forcing himself not to flinch away and ignore the warning of his sixth sense, Peter tried to blink away the tears so that Mr. Osborn wouldn’t see them.

The man took off Peter’s mask and his expression softened a tad. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Gwen Stacy’s death wasn’t your fault. It was the Green Goblin who’d done it, Peter. I know that. But I have to ask you how you expect to deal with him again without proper training and preparation? Last time you could barely stand up to him. This time will not be any different.”

“I…”

“You’re young and hopeful, but the harsh truth is that you’re not ready to face him yet,” said Mr. Osborn, his hand coming down to rest on Peter’s shoulder. “That’s exactly why I want the Avengers to chase him down instead of you. I told you to stop asking about him out there. I know you’ve ignored my order. Whether or not you appreciate it, I’m keeping tabs on you. Someone has to, to make sure you’re not biting off more than you can chew. We are supposed to learn from the past, Peter, and that is exactly what I’m trying to do. For both our sakes.”

Peter nodded numbly without meeting his eyes. Mr. Stark’s warnings crossed his mind for a second but he shoved them away. Mr. Osborn wasn’t perfect, but he was right. Peter needed to do better, especially if he wanted another go at the Green Goblin. That lunatic’s been loose for way too long. Someone had to stop him, and Peter wanted this someone to be him. He wanted… he wasn’t even sure what. But he knew he wanted the Green Goblin to face him—not the army, the Fantastic Four or the Avengers. Peter. Spider-Man. The one he’d faced last time.

Allowing Mr. Osborn to steer him toward the door, he listened absently as the man told him something about not worrying about the broken window or about SHIELD wanting his head. He also didn’t protest when Mr. Osborn suggested Peter finally let him and his people take a look at his biology to try and understand him and his powers a little better. He couldn’t find the energy to protest any more. He’s been fighting too many people lately, it was exhausting and draining.

As Mr. Osborn held the door open for him and handed him back his mask, he added, “Oh, and I’ll get you some new clothes, yes? That Iron Man hoodie you’ve been wearing lately feels a tad… inappropriate.”

With one leg out of the office, Peter stilled, then finally croaked, “No, I’m gonna keep it. It’s… it’s from a friend.”

Mr. Osborn regarded him disapprovingly. “I don’t suppose this ‘friend’ is a certain eccentric billionaire?”

“No. It’s someone I used to know. From school,” Peter said. “It’s… it was a gift. He gave me the hoodie and I… I wanna keep it. I’m gonna keep it.”

For a long moment Mr. Osborn’s face remained unreadable, then he simply said, “Very well,” and sent Peter on his merry way.

✧ ✧ ✧

Peter told Karen to get the drone back to him, preferably without anyone noticing it was getting into Oscorp and toward the room Peter was given for the time being. He emphasized to her how important it was that Mr. Osborn didn’t see the drone, hoping she’d take it to heart and avoid the man at all cost.

Once the drone snuck back into his room, Peter deactivated it bitterly. Logically he knew there was no point in sending out the drone when Mr. Osborn was obviously aware of Peter’s scheme now. But he was sad to put it aside like that, discarding of it like it hasn’t been helpful and cool to use something like this. Plus, it meant his freedom of swinging around without having someone constantly keeping tabs on him was out the window once more.

For a moment he considered sending the drone back to Mr. Stark. The tech belonged to him, after all. As did Karen, although she already made Peter’s phone her home as well, so he felt like getting rid of her would be tough. But Peter had been the one to assemble the drone and he couldn’t bear the thought of giving it away for good. It wouldn’t help him like before, he knew that, but it was still his creation and he wanted it to stay with him.

The next few days Peter was forced to stay at Oscorp and not go out as Spider-Man. Mr. Osborn told him it was too risky, seeing as SHIELD still had agents out there, ready to try and snatch him away. It made sense to Peter, staying away from them to try and get them to leave him be already. Plus, he couldn’t help but feel a twist of worry in his chest at the sound of people’s cries for help, wondering if they were genuine or simply more undercover forces meant to draw him into a trap.

It still hurt, listening to the distant sounds of people in danger. Peter tried to talk Mr. Osborn into letting him leave again, reminding him that while SHIELD was out to get Spider-Man, there were people out there who needed him. Crime wasn’t going to sit idly by until it was safe for Peter to get back out there. He had to leave this building and help again. But Mr. Osborn refused, repeatedly declaring it was still too unsafe.

So Peter spent most nights twisting in his borrowed bed, biting the inside of his cheek as he fought the instinct to throw his blanket off, get up and swing toward the women, men and children who were all begging someone to save them. Sleep evaded him for the most part because of that and the mounting guilt he felt, especially after reading about the rising crime rates in the city—especially Queens—following Spidey’s disappearance.

During the days, Peter wandered through the streets randomly. He walked with his hood covering his head and his hands in his pockets as he hunched his shoulders to try and keep himself as small as possible. He didn’t need to look up to avoid walking into people thanks to his spider-sense, so he didn’t have any trouble navigating without watching where he was going.

He managed to help a few people who were genuinely in trouble as Peter Parker instead of Spider-Man, mostly keeping his head down so no one would be able to take a description of him as he avoided using his powers in an obvious way. It probably still looked really weird when some lanky teenager showed up and punched a guy into unconsciousness, but he couldn’t care less. As long as he could help somehow, he’d take the odd looks people sent his way.

Several times he found himself stopping at the foot of Avengers Tower, gazing up at the top longingly and smothering the burning need in his chest to climb up there to talk to Mr. Stark or… or steal something from him just to get his attention. He didn’t need as much food anymore—not with Mr. Osborn taking care of that for him—and he had enough web fluid for now so he didn’t need any of the stuff stored inside the tower. He really had no reason to go up there.

On his sixth visit to the area, a guard inside eyed him suspiciously, which made Peter turn on his heel and leave at once. The last thing he needed was to get either Mr. Stark or the police involved.

He was so worried about being caught by them, SHIELD or Mr. Osborn, he completely forgot about Ned.

Peter didn’t mean to get to Queens, nor did he mean to get too close to Midtown. His legs carried him in that direction thoughtlessly, his brain longing to see the sort of places he was more used to. Queens was his home, always would be. It was a wonder it took him days to actually make his way over to the familiar borough, his breaths feeling much easier now that he was surrounded by familiar landmarks.

His brain was so foggy that Peter only realized he’d made a mistake when he noticed he was staring at a figure that was exiting the school at the end of another day of studying tediously, dark eyes locked on him, wide open and stunned.

His first thought was that Ned was looking at him and was surprised to see Peter Parker again after nearly two years of not hearing from him. And then he looked down at himself and found himself staring at the iconic Iron Man faceplate gazing back at him from the chest of his hoodie—a borrowed item Ned had given Spider-Man, not Peter Parker.

He blanched and ducked away, beginning to run to create as much space between him and Ned. But he could hear the boy calling out for him to stop. Calling out for Peter—not Spider-Man. He could hear the thuds of Ned’s shoes as he tried to chase after Peter, running after him between the throng of students exiting the school and grumbling about how much homework they had to complete and the upcoming exams they had to study for.

“Peter! Peter, wait!”

He turned the corner and sped up a bit, determined to get away from Ned. Which should be easy—the guy had no powers to assist him. Peter could already hear his pants. He had no shot of catching up to Peter, not when he was enhanced and could keep on running through the city like this for hours without getting tired.

This was so stupid. So, so stupid. Why would Peter go to Midtown with the clothes Ned had given him and without his mask? Was he trying to reveal his identity? Was this all the result of his exhaustion from lack of sleep over the last few days? He wasn’t sure, he could barely even recall making his way over to Midtown in the first place. It was all foggy, a haze. His brain was clearly malfunctioning, which was really bad because it was his brain that’d gotten Peter into this situation in the first place!

“Peter! Jeez, he’s fast. Of course he’s fast,” wheezed Ned far behind him. “Hold on! Peter, just hold on!”

He hesitated at the next intersection and bit the inside of his cheek. His body was flooded with adrenaline, his limbs begging to move. But Ned’s desperate pleas for him to stop felt like knife slashes to his chest. Or like someone was squeezing his lungs or keeping him in a chokehold.

Squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heels of his hands to them, he groaned. “Oh, come on, just give up…”

“Peter!”

His hands fell down and he let out a frustrated noise before whirling around sharply and marching back toward Ned, whose eyes widened at the sight of Peter walking toward him. His steps faltered a bit but Peter made his way over to him in no time and swiftly grabbed his forearm and dragged him away quickly while sending looks around to make sure they weren’t being watched.

“Holy shit, it really is you,” muttered Ned as he stumbled after Peter. “Dude, I haven’t seen you since freshman year! That’s crazy! Some people thought you were dead. Like, there are rumors going around the school about you dying. Flash thought you may have left the country at some point. I can’t believe you’ve been around all this time and I had no idea! I literally have your phone number. I could have called you all this time! I never thought of that. Wait, do you still have your phone? Do you still have the same number? Holy shit, and you’re Spid—”

“Ned, shut up!” hissed Peter.

They moved past a woman walking her poodle. She was speaking to someone over the phone, oblivious to their existence, but Peter still kept an eye on her until they turned the corner again and she was left out of sight. He tried to check his spider-sense but it remained perfectly quiet and calm, letting him know that either everything was safe or Peter’s senses were failing him once more after he’d been neglecting his body’s natural need to sleep.

“Sorry,” muttered Ned, still sounding awestruck. “Where are we going?”

Peter scrunched up his nose. “I’m… not sure.”

“Okay, cool… cool…” Ned nodded, then pointed vaguely in a certain direction. “I mean, there’s my place. It’s not too far away. You, uh, already know where it is. Which now makes a lot of sense. I guess. You haven’t actually been there before—”

“You shared your address in the class group chat,” said Peter as he hesitantly started making his way toward Ned’s house. “I’m still there, so I just checked.”

Ned made another awed sound, squeaky and thrilled.

Ned kept on talking excitedly the entire way to his house. The more he talked, the lower Peter’s shoulders went as he remembered that Ned was probably the only person in his life so far who didn’t seem to be interested in receiving anything from him. He’d helped him twice already, not counting the first time he’d failed to inform the police of Spider-Man breaking into Midtown. If anyone was going to learn Peter was Spider-Man, Ned wasn’t a bad option.

Once they were in front of the apartment building, Peter hesitated and stopped walking abruptly. Ned walked right into him, spluttering a little in surprise before stepping back and giving Peter a questioning look when he didn’t make a move to enter the building. He was also not letting go of Ned’s arm, although that was mostly because he was pretty sure his stickiness was acting up and he didn’t want to accidentally pull off Ned’s skin.

“Um… are we waiting for something specific or…?”

Peter glanced at him, then back at the entrance door. “Is there anyone over at your apartment right now?”

Ned frowned and pulled out his phone. He seemed to check the time before shrugging and saying his mom was still supposed to be at work so there shouldn’t be anyone up there. It calmed Peter down a tad, although it wasn’t enough to make him drop his guard completely as he let Ned lead him into the lobby and inside a creaky elevator that had flickering lights and a foggy mirror.

They met one person in the hall who greeted Ned absently and completely ignored Peter. He still lowered his head to let the hood hide his features from this guy, his entire body coiled with tension. He focused on his hearing to check if he could hear anyone inside Ned’s apartment but it sounded like the place really was empty right now. So once Ned unlocked the door and invited him inside, Peter took in a deep breath and followed in.

Only once Ned locked the door behind the two of them did Peter relax enough to let go of the guy’s arm. He awkwardly stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around. The place wasn’t spacy or anything, but the coziness actually made Peter feel slightly safer. He took in the turned off TV screen, the comforter haphazardly thrown across the sofa, the framed photos lining the walls, displaying the Leeds family.

He smiled sadly at the warmth the place seemed to convey. It looked nothing like his uncle and aunt’s place at Forest Hills but the feeling of home was certainly familiar. It was nothing like the pristine room Mr. Osborn had given him, nor was it like the sterile-looking living room at Avengers Tower. Ned’s living room felt lived-in. It was nice.

“Okay, okay, there’s nothing to actually eat,” said Ned from his place near the fridge behind the bar counter, his back to Peter. “Mom probably left me some money to order take-out. I was going to order pizza. You like pizza, right? I mean, duh. Who doesn’t like pizza? Just… what kind of toppings do you like? I avoid olives usually but I don’t mind putting some—”

“You don’t need to order me pizza.”

Ned threw him a smile as he closed the fridge and pulled out his phone again. “Dude, it’s just pizza. It’s no big deal. I’m already ordering anyway, I told you.”

He looked up at him, his thumb hovering over the screen as he waited for Peter to tell him what kind of pizza he’d like. Opening his mouth to protest again, Peter’s voice got caught up in his throat at the sound of his stomach loudly growling at the mention of food.

“Traitor,” he muttered, ignoring Ned’s triumphant grin. Shuffling his feet, Peter muttered, “I like pepperoni, I guess. But you really don’t have to—”

But Ned was already focused back on his phone, finishing the order and sending it to the pizza place before putting his phone away and facing Peter brightly. He looked so proud of himself for ordering this little bit of food for Peter, like this had been his goal all along. Which was ridiculous, but Peter wasn’t going to complain. Not when his metabolism demanded he ate all the time.

He kind of missed the days back when he’d been able to feel full after a meal…

It was silent for a bit too long. Ned started twitching, eyes darting all around while repeatedly coming back to Peter. He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if to say something, but kept on going back on it and shaking his head to himself. Peter had his lips firmly pressed together as he tried to figure out how to proceed from here.

And then Ned suddenly said, “Do you lay eggs?”

It startled a chuckle out of Peter. “No. Of course not.”

“Were you born this way?”

“Uh… no, I got these powers when I was fourteen.”

“How far can your webs go?”

“Never really tested it out…”

“Did you come up with the formula for the webs yourself?”

“I did, yeah.”

Ned stared at him in utter awe, his eyes becoming slightly glassy.

Peter tipped his head to the side. “Er… are you all right?”

“This is just the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m just freaking out, like, internally. It’s nothing. I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s all good. I just found out my old classmate has superpowers and is, like, the best superhero in the world. That’s completely normal. Just a day in the life. I’m fine.”

“I’m not really a… a superhero, you know?” said Peter as he shifted his weight between his feet and tugged at his hoodie’s sleeves. “Technically, I’m a vigilante. Outside the law, remember?”

The boy nodded, still wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “Right, yeah, a vigilante. That’s still awesome. I mean, you’re my age. You’re my age and you, like, fight bad guys and stop bank robberies and—and—and pull people out of fires and stuff. That’s so cool. I mean, the bad stuff aren’t cool, but the fact that you’re stopping them is… it’s cool.”

A small smile tugged at Peter’s lips and he finally dared move toward the bar stool closest to him. When Ned didn’t protest in any way, he sat down and let his legs bounce up and down on the footrail. His body sagged a little in relief at the chance to rest, no matter how awkward he felt with Ned staring at him from the other side of the counter with an admiring, curious look.

“What happened to you?” Ned asked eventually. “You… you just disappeared after your aunt…”

Peter cringed and started fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “I didn’t want CPS to find me so I had to disappear,” he said, the words feeling strange now that he was saying them out loud. With a gulp, he added, “Gwen helped me a lot back then.”

“Gwen Stacy? I thought she might still be in touch with you. You were always so close, I couldn’t believe she’d take you vanishing that easily, you know?” His face fell and he tapped his finger on the counter. “I’m sorry about what happened to her, by the way. It was… it must have been terrible.”

“Yeah, it—er—thanks,” muttered Peter, gaze down.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” said Ned in a rush. “I didn’t give you these clothes so I could, like, identify you or anything. You just asked for something to wear and that’s what I found. I could have probably found something less obvious, come to think of it. Then it wouldn’t have been this noticeable. But it wasn’t intentional or anything, you know? I didn’t think you’d pop up and I’d see the clothes and make the connection. It was an accident, I swear—”

Peter huffed out a laugh. “I know, Ned. It’s fine. It’s not your fault. You’re just about the only person I actually trust right now.”

“Okay, first—that’s awesome. I’m so honored,” said Ned as he straightened up a bit. “Second—this is, like, the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, dude. Isn’t there anyone else out there you feel safe around? What about the guy you’re staying with? Or—or Tony Stark? He gave you that AI and it turned out to be safe and all, right? I’m guessing it all worked out well and everything. Doesn’t that mean you can kinda trust him?”

“Yeah, the drone worked… until I messed up and came back without deactivating it. I can’t really use it to lead Mr. Osb—I mean, I can’t really use it. The cat’s out of the bag. But Mr. Stark and I kind of had this—er—disagreement. I’m not sure if we’re still on good terms or not, and I don’t know if I can trust him. I don’t… I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

He frowned down at his hands, then snapped his head up to look at Ned intensely. “What do you think?”

Ned blinked and leaned back in surprise. “W-what do I think about what?”

“Whether or not I should trust them.”

The boy gaped at him like a fish, then seemed to compose himself for the best of his abilities before furrowing his brows in concentration. He stared off into space for several seconds, clearly deep in thought. Peter tried not to distract him as he held his breath and waited to hear what Ned would have to say on the matter.

“Okay, I obviously don’t have the full picture here,” Ned started after a while, still not looking at anything in particular, “so I’m basing this off of what you’ve told me so far, right? I don’t know who this guy who’s helping you is, but it sounds, like, really suspicious that he put a tracker in your phone to see where you’re at. I guess he wasn’t trying to be a creep, but it sounds like an odd thing to do to someone you’re working with, you know? And I don’t know enough about the whole deal with Tony Stark. I only know that he gave you that AI, right? And he had this tweet about how Spidey shouldn’t be imprisoned—”

“Wait, what? What tweet?”

Ned’s eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t you see it? It went viral and everything. I mean, Iron Man posted it, of course it’s viral. But people keep on bringing it up. Everyone at school talks about it ‘cause it came out of nowhere.”

As he spoke, Ned held up his phone again and tapped the screen a few times before flipping it around to show the screen to Peter, who leaned forward and peered down at the tweet calling out for the authorities to leave Spider-Man—Peter—alone because he was doing nothing but good for the city. It wasn’t long nor was it personal, but Peter still felt oddly touched by the support.

“Can’t believe you haven’t seen this,” commented Ned incredulously.

“I haven’t been on social media in a while,” mumbled Peter, reading the tweet again and again to confirm he was seeing right.

“Right, yeah, of course.” Ned paused, then added, “Anyway, Iron Man’s a hero, he seems to like you enough and he gave you a piece of really valuable tech just because he could. I don’t know if he’s doing this out of obligation or… what. But seems like he’s trying to be on your side… I think.”

When Peter checked when the post was from, he was surprised to find it’d been posted after his argument with Mr. Stark. He figured the man would either ignore him or join the Avengers and SHIELD in hunting him down now, but if he was still siding with him despite Peter disagreeing with him… then maybe…

“I yelled at him,” he found himself saying while twisting the sims of his hoodie. “I yelled at Mr. Stark, then swung away.”

“You swung away?” said Ned, his voice brimming with excitement. Then he schooled his expression and muttered, “Cool, cool. Yes, naturally. Um… why’d you yell at him?”

“He was telling me the guy who’s helping me is probably not all that good. That he probably has some shady stuff going on under the surface that I should look into. I didn’t wanna hear that so I sorta snapped at him.” He cringed and shook his head. “So he doesn’t want me to trust Mr. Os—I mean, the man helping me—”

“You can call him Mr. X or something,” suggested Ned. “That way I wouldn’t know who it is.”

Peter rubbed his eyes tiredly. “…right. So Mr. Stark doesn’t want me to trust… Mr. X. And Mr. X keeps on warning me about trusting Mr. Stark. I’m not sure who I’m supposed to listen to in this situation.”

The boy crossed his arms over the counter and leaned on them. “Then maybe try to find those secrets Tony Stark told you about. If they don’t exist, you’ll know you can trust Mr. X and should probably not listen to Tony Stark. But if they do exist, you can, like, stay away from Mr. X and apologize to Iron Man for ever doubting him.”

Blinking at Ned once, Peter opened his mouth to protest, then paused to think about it a moment longer. He could feel a smile growing on his face as he took in Ned’s eager yet nervous expression as he waited to see what Peter’s opinion would be.

“I can do that,” he said, and Ned’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem! Want help hacking into something again?” he asked eagerly, and when Peter eyed in amusement, he blushed and muttered, “I’m trying to make the most awesome experience in my life last as long as possible, okay?”

“Sure, Ned,” Peter said mirthfully. “The faster it’ll be, the less chances there are of Mr. Os—Mr. X catching me.”

Chapter Text

Tony’s shoulders were tense, his expression carefully blank so as not to reveal too much as he followed Osborn down the corridor away from the elevator and toward the man’s office at the top of the building. Everything around him was painted white, immaculate. It made Tony feel like he was walking through a hospital more than anything else. He wasn’t all too fond of the vibe. At least he was satisfied to see the slightly wet foot tracks he was leaving behind after coming in from the rain.

A part of him was wary of being spotted here. Not by the media vultures or anything like that—he just didn’t want the kid to see him there; mostly because he figured he might come to the wrong conclusion if he saw Tony inside Oscorp, talking to Osborn after the warning he’d tried to give him last time they talked. So his eyes kept on scanning the corners, the ceilings, the walls. He wanted to make sure no spiderling was watching him from the shadows.

Osborn was talking and droning on and on about how Tony was being misled to believe there was anything wrong happening at Oscorp. Which was utter bullshit, of course. FRIDAY and he had found out that the man had a lot to hide, but the only thing Tony was confronting him about now was the fact that he was using the arc reactors SI had sold Oscorp to make their own version of the invention. Which was not going to happen, as far as Tony was concerned.

“It’s cute, how you think you can lie to my face. I have enough proof to sue and win the case, Norman,” said Tony. “This is a patent of mine. You can look it up, it’s no secret. And you’re trying to steal it.”

Osborn cast him a look as he stopped by his office’s door. “And you would know everything about stealing something from another person, wouldn’t you?”

“What are you on about?”

The suited man frowned at him as he swiped his card to unlock the door. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Stark. I don’t think there’s a single person in this building who could possibly be fooled into believing you can’t read the fine-print.”

“You’re right, I am smarter than everyone else in this building.” He peered into the office as Osborn opened the door and his eyebrows climbed up as his insides twisted worriedly. “Well, almost everyone. Hey, kid.”

It was almost funny, how quickly Osborn’s head whirled around to look into his office as well, his gaze immediately zeroing in on the kid that was standing halfway between them and the desk on the other side of the room. Peter Parker had his lips parted like he wanted to say something yet couldn’t find the words, his hands clenched by his sides and his knees bent a little, like he was preparing himself to jump up to the ceiling. Or maybe like he just landed where he was.

His eyes darted between Osborn and Tony quickly, panic and confusion flickering across his face. There was tension in his stance, his entire body looking as coiled as it was. When his eyes eventually settled on Osborn, though, the kid took a mild step back, his posture becoming more defensive than alarmed.

“Peter,” said Osborn sharply, “what are you doing here?”

“I—er—I was looking for…” The kid looked around, as if searching for a plausible excuse. “I was looking for you! Yeah, I was looking for you because I needed to talk to you and I couldn’t find you anywhere. It’s a big building, lots of places to hide. And I figured, you know, where would you be? Where can I find you? And where better than your own office, right?”

There was silence for a second after that. Tony could see the way Osborn’s jaw was clenching. He himself was trying hard not to laugh at the poor excuse of the kid. And his relentless fidgeting wasn’t helping him sell the story, either.

“Peter,” was all Osborn said.

The kid’s gaze dropped to the floor as he tugged at his sleeves. “Okay, I wasn’t looking for you. I was… I was going to climb out the window to the roof and enjoy a little bit of fresh air. I haven’t been able to do it in days, I just figured… I needed some normalcy. Or, well, my type of normalcy, anyway.”

With a sigh, Osborn stepped further into the room, allowing Tony to step in, as well. Behind them, the door closed with a click that made Peter glance up and toward the exit with an almost longing look on his face. He wiped it off relatively quickly, though, instead looking apologetically at Osborn.

“Too many people are looking for you,” said Osborn sternly, eyes shifting toward Tony not so subtly. “It’s best to let everything calm down before starting this whole thing again. And if anyone spots you sitting on my company’s roof they’d be able to come to the correct conclusion. We don’t want that, do we?”

“But it’s so tall, who’d be able to see me?”

“Don’t underestimate desperate and determined people.”

Peter pressed his lips together and didn’t reply.

Osborn clapped his hands together and a pristine smile stretched his lips. “Well, I don’t suppose the two of you need any introductions. I heard you’ve met already. At least once, although I’m sure that’s not the case,” he added and Peter started twiddling his thumbs. “I believe there are no secrets in this room that need to be kept.”

“You mean that’s what you’re hoping for,” corrected Tony. “And no, no need for a second introduction. I know the kid. I’d say that trying to shoot someone means we’re past the meet-and-greet phase, huh?”

“Hilarious,” said Peter dryly.

“I try,” Tony smirked.

“Here, Stark, why don’t you take a seat and—” started Osborn, but Peter cut him off.

“Well, it’s nice to see you again!” the kid chirped as he crossed the room in a rush and grabbed Tony’s hand in a firm handshake. “I mean, it’s good because you’re not trying to kill or incapacitate me, right?”

Tony opened his mouth to ask him what the hell was wrong with him. He wanted to pull his hand away as quickly as possible, slightly uncomfortable with the fact that someone was touching him like that out of the blue. Even if it was just Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Whatever. He figured the kid wouldn’t try to crunch the bones in his hands out of spite after his last visit to the tower, but he couldn’t be too safe, right?

But before anything slipped through his lips, he felt something poking into his palm—definitely not any of the kid’s fingers. His uneasiness spiked even more at the realization that he was being handed something, but it dissipated almost immediately when his eyes locked with the kid’s and he could see the silent request sparkling there, urging Tony to please go along with this and act natural.

“Likewise,” he said a beat too late, shaking Peter’s hand back once before dropping it and shoving his hand and whatever he was given into his pocket. “Luckily for us both I’m not here for anything Spider-Man related, so you’re off the hook for now. Your boss, on the other hand…”

“Mr. Osborn’s not my boss,” grumbled Peter as he took a step back.

Osborn smiled politely. “Please, Stark, we can continue this discussion in here. Take a seat. Peter,” he added when the boy started creeping toward the door.

Body freezing, the kid kept his back facing them for a second as he seemed to brace himself, then he whirled around and smiled nervously at Osborn, his hands both shoved deep into the pockets of his Iron Man hoodie. He shifted his weight between his legs like he couldn’t keep still and his eyes darted around quickly, as if too agitated to focus on anything.

“You didn’t take anything, did you?” asked Osborn.

The kid let out a high-pitched chuckle. “W-what? No, of course not! Why would I try—I mean, I was on my way outside, so obviously… not…” His settled on Tony for a second before he smiled at Osborn uneasily. “No, sir.”

Tony made his way over to one of the chairs next to Osborn’s desk and groaned when the two others remained silent. Norman squinted at Peter like he was waiting for him to admit to something. Which he probably would, Tony figured, because he obviously was guilty of taking something; the evidence was resting in Tony’s pocket right now, after all.

“Oh, for the love of—just pull your hands out of your pockets and show you’re not hiding anything, kid,” he snapped eventually.

Peter complied instantly, bringing his hands out and holding them up to show they were empty. When Osborn’s gaze lingered on his pockets, the kid also turned them inside out to show they were clear. For a second he made eye contact with Tony, a flash of irritation flickering in his eyes, and then he focused back on his not-boss with that same awkward smile that made Tony feel incredibly bad for the kid.

“Very well,” said Osborn smoothly as he took a seat behind his desk and across from Tony. He gestured toward the empty chair left beside the billionaire. “Sit down, Peter. Nothing we say is confidential. And I’d like to have a word with you once we’re done.”

Hesitantly, Peter stepped away from the door and sat down beside Tony, his body coiled tightly, like he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. His gaze dropped to his lap, where he started fidgeting with his sleeves as if to distract himself. Tony wasn’t sure whether he was uncomfortable with sitting next to him or if it had more to do with the fact that Osborn was planning on scolding him later for something. Sneaking into his office? Trying to slip away for a bit?

It made the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach deepen but he kept his expression blank as he looked at Osborn, forcing his brain to focus on the matter at hand rather than the spider kid sitting nearby, shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself as small as possible so as not to draw any more attention from the other two.

“Right,” said Osborn, “we were discussing—”

“We were talking about how your company is trying to steal my invention.”

“Yes, yes, and I was just telling you that we were doing no such thing. We’re all more than aware that your arc reactor is not something we should attempt to replicate. We simply use the items we’d bought from you—”

“Funny. Are you telling me if I checked Oscorp’s records thoroughly I will find no evidence of your people dismantling my arc reactors and trying to build their own ones? I can look it up in a second, it won’t take long. I just need to get FRI to search for the—”

“That will not be necessary,” said Osborn, and his smile looked more fixed now, his eyes cold.

Peter looked between the two of them with furrowed brows. “You’re trying to make an arc reactor?”

Osborn’s face smoothed as he turned to Peter. “No. My scientists are working with the arc reactors. That is not the same thing. Trying to build an arc reactor is something only a select few have been able to do over the years, isn’t that right? What was the name of that man from a few years back? Didn’t he try to kill you, Stark? With your own invention?”

“Ivan Vanko?” said Peter eagerly.

Turning to him, Tony arched an eyebrow. “You did your research, didn’t you?”

The kid’s face burned as he looked back down. “I just remember the Stark Expo, is all…”

“Naturally, it was all over the news,” commented Osborn flippantly.

“Yeah, I saw the footage after,” the kid said with a smile aimed at his hands. “My aunt and uncle thought it was a disaster—and, I mean, it was—but it was one of the coolest thing that’d ever happened to me. I saw your stand getting blown up, sir. I mean, a lot of things blew up there but—”

Tony frowned. “You were there?”

Peter’s eyes slid over to Osborn before he focused on Tony and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I was kind of—er—a fan? I begged to be taken there for over a month. My uncle even bought me these mask and gauntlets.” He glanced down at the Iron Man faceplate on his chest and tried to cover it better. “I was targeted by the robots because of it, I think.”

“That’s not really relevant right now,” Osborn tried to interject.

“Hold on, hold on,” said Tony, his eyes growing wide. “You’re that kid that nearly got blown up? The one who tried to fight off a suit with a fake repulsor? That was… that was actually you?”

Squirming uneasily, Peter shrugged and nodded meekly.

Tony’s eye twitched. “Well, isn’t that neat? I suppose you always liked the idea of risking your life, then. Naturally. You know what? I’m not even surprised. See my face? That’s me when I’m perfectly calm.” He turned back to Osborn. “Funny that you mention Vanko, by the way. The guy did manage to build an arc reactor, then he died after trying to kill people with this technology. Which is why this little gadget is mine and no one else’s. So stop stealing my work. Stop doing it badly, at that. It’s like the Hammer Tech thing all over again…”

“I still can’t believe he managed to get out of jail that easily,” muttered Peter.

Osborn exhaled and put his fingers together under his chin. “Even if your accusations weren’t completely baseless, Stark, you just said we couldn’t make the arc reactor work either way. I disagree, of course, seeing as my employees are perfectly capable of doing anything they put their minds to, even if it takes them a bit of time to push through. But since you’re so confident in their lack of competency, I don’t see why it would bother you to know they work on an arc reactor. Not that they are, of course.”

“I call bullshit.”

Peter raised his hand timidly, looking between the two of them. “Uh… if they are trying to make a working arc reactor and it’d fail, it could literally blow up in their faces,” he said slowly. “Sir, this could blow up an entire city block if they aren’t careful enough.”

“They are not trying to copy Stark’s technology, Peter. This is completely hypothetical.”

“Again, bullshit,” snorted Tony. “Want me to get FRIDAY to bring up all the blueprints of the arc reactor your company’s been working on or maybe just go down to one of the labs and find the prototype? I can assure you it’s far from ready, by the way. It really will blow up in your face, and as much as I would love to see it, the city and your workers don’t deserve that.”

Osborn’s jaw clenched as he seemed to try and keep himself calm. Tony had to wonder if he was working so hard on maintaining this image because Peter was there. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, honestly. At least the kid looked like he could see through the mask—to some extent. Him chiming in to voice his concern was enough proof that he wasn’t completely suckered by Osborn, which was good as far as Tony could tell. It meant there was still hope for him.

“Even if my scientists had such a thing lying around,” said Osborn through gritted teeth, “they’d know better than to activate it without the proper precautions. Should I be insulted that you think I might try to destroy the city, Tony?”

“Absolutely.”

Peter slumped down in his seat, sighing deeply as he shook his head to himself. The droplets of rain outside pitter-pattered against the windows.

“You know, the funny thing is that you could have actually built a successful, functional prototype with ease had you just turned to the right person,” said Tony casually as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I mean, you have the genius kid over here all the time, yet you never think to try and see if he could lend a hand and help Oscorp? Seems like such a waste, especially when the kid is grasping at any available job that would take him.”

The kid’s face flushed again. “W-what?”

Tony ignored him. “Oh, wait, that’s right—you’re only interested in Spider-Man. Is that it? It is, isn’t it? Did you even check the kid’s background? Haven’t you told him anything?” he asked Peter, not waiting for a response. “His school records showed he’d built an arc reactor from scraps for a school project. It wasn’t perfect, of course, but that’s just because he didn’t have the proper tools. Yet you assigned a bunch of idiots to try and build it instead. You should really do your research, Norman.”

“What—how—” Peter spluttered, then turned to Osborn and said, “I can’t build an arc reactor. I mean, it’s also, like, illegal. But I’m definitely not smart enough for that.”

“Liar,” said Tony.

The kid threw him an annoyed look.

Osborn’s lips twitched. “I admit I didn’t go snooping too deeply into his personal life. I feel like that would be crossing a line.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him at the implication, feeling more than seeing the way the kid started shifting in his seat again, clearly getting the underlying message, as well. At least he wasn’t pulling away from Tony, though. That was better than him immediately agreeing that Tony was a creep for reading about his school records. Especially when it was only partially illegal.

“Oh, but putting a tracker in his phone was completely ethical,” he snarked back.

“It was a safety measure, for his own protection,” the man replied coolly. “And now I get the feeling you were the one who’d helped him come to the conclusion he should sabotage the tracker? Despite there being so many people out there who would very much like to get their hands on him.”

“You mean people who would like to steal him from you?”

“I don’t own him.”

“You sure act like you believe you do. Just because your experiment was the one to grant him powers doesn’t mean he’s your property, Norman. It only means you messed up a kid’s life and got away with it without a lawsuit by wisely pretending to care. Bet you’re glad you did that now, it meant you knew exactly who to approach about Spider-Man.”

“I did what I did because the… incident took care in my facility. I had to take responsibility for it, make sure nothing went wrong.”

“And the prevented lawsuit was just an added bonus. Did he or did he not influence your decision, kid?”

“Peter and his family came to that decision on their own. I was only doing the bare minimum to make sure my experiment didn’t kill him. It was the right thing to do. Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

Tony’s leg started bouncing up and down in irritation. “Can you stop acting like the kid isn’t sitting right here? He can hear us, he can answer for himself, can’t you, Pete?”

Peter looked like a deer caught in the headlights when Osborn turned to look at him. His eyes were wide, his body stiff. But there was a gleam in his eyes, a spark of defiance and annoyance that soothed only a tad once Osborn finally focused on him and acknowledged his presence in the room yet again.

“I…” He closed his eyes for a long second, then opened them and straightened up. “I don’t see how any of this matters. Can you just talk about your business thing? Leave me out of this.”

“Peter, if you want a job at Oscorp—” Osborn started.

“I don’t,” said Peter.

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “But you would accept an offer from Stark Industries?”

“I never said that!” He pushed his chair away from the table and sprang to his feet. “I think I’m gonna go.”

“I need to have a word with you,” Osborn reminded him.

“It can wait,” said Peter snappishly as he started walking toward the door. “Bye, Mr. Stark.”

“Bye, kid.”

The door shut behind him with a loud thud and Tony stared at it for a second before he whistled and turned around to face Osborn again. The man’s composed expression slipped now that they were alone, leaving him to sneer at Tony like he was already blaming him for everything that’d gone wrong in this conversation. He was probably already trying to figure out a way to make Tony regret ever setting foot in his building.

Oh, well.

“Stay away from him, Stark,” Osborn warned him after a moment.

Tony was pretty sure the kid was still close enough to hear them with those freaky senses of his. It made him wonder how aware of the kid’s powers Osborn was, for him to openly talk about stuff without worrying Peter might hear them. Did he seriously not know the kid could most likely still hear their every word?

“I’m sorry, you’re acting like I’m the one currently out there, looking for him. I stopped doing that a while back. He’s coming to me. Makes you wonder why, doesn’t it?”

“It makes me wonder what you did to bribe him.”

Tony thought about bringing up Karen, but he figured if Osborn wasn’t aware of her being in Peter’s possession, maybe it was best to leave it that way. He didn’t want to imagine what this man would do with an AI like her, and he had no doubt he would try to get Peter to fork her over if he knew she existed.

“A sandwich,” he said instead, sniffing idly.

Osborn stared at him. “What?”

“A sandwich. Well, I didn’t give it to him. He broke into my penthouse and stole it. But he did get it from me, I suppose. My supply and everything. Kind of weird, gotta say. Why would the kid you’re looking after come to my tower just to get some food? Aren’t you taking care of this? I thought you were keeping him safe. Correct me if I’m wrong but not having anything to eat could really hurt the kid, especially with the amount of energy he uses to swing across this city.”

“I can assure you, I do feed him.”

“Well, maybe he just doesn’t like your food,” said Tony with a shrug. “Kids, am I right?”

Osborn looked at him, his cold eyes analyzing, like he was looking for a sign that Tony was lying. His lips were stretched in a thin line and a crease formed between his eyebrows as he furrowed them in thought. And then he leaned back and gestured toward the door.

“I think it’s best if you leave now, Tony,” he said measurably.

Tony didn’t have any qualms with that. “Don’t think you’re off the hook for replicating my invention. Get rid of this whole mess before I report you, and I’ll make sure the evidence is still there before you can make everything disappear, Norman. Don’t test me.”

He stepped out quickly, only exhaling once the door closed behind him, concealing him from Osborn. His hand came up to press against his chest. There was a headache forming behind his eyes as he tried to shake away his uneasiness and irritation. At least the Green Goblin didn’t come up in their conversation. Osborn had the tendency to ask him about the Avengers’ progress regarding that maniac and Tony was already tired of telling him they weren’t really doing anything to find the freak. He wasn’t even around anymore, what was the point?

His finger pressed the button of the elevator and he tapped his foot on the ground as he waited for it to come get him back down. The sooner he left this building, the better. But then someone tapped his shoulder and Tony nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around, half-prepared to summon a gauntlet to form around his hand so he could blast whoever it was.

At the sight of Peter Parker standing before him, though, his anxiety depleted and he moved his hand back to his chest, this time to try and tell his heart it could slow back down, goddamn it!

“Jeez, kid. Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?”

“Where’s the drive?” he asked.

“The drive?”

“The one I gave you earlier, where is it?”

“Oh.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out what was, in fact, a USB drive. A simple white one. “Quick thinking with that, by the way. Although for future reference—I hate being handed things. I don’t do being handed… anything, really. Don’t do that again.”

Peter scrunched up his nose as he snatched the drive and turned it over to check it was okay. “What kind of stupid rule is that?”

“It exists, it’s a rule. Don’t question it, just go with it.” Tony pulled his sunglasses out and put them on before gesturing toward the drive with his head. “Wanna tell me what’s on this?”

The kid glanced at him. “…no.”

“Harsh,” said Tony dryly. The elevator’s doors opened with a ping. “Well, I’ll see you around, kid.”

He stepped in and pressed on the lobby’s button. The doors were already closing when he heard the kid calling, “Bye, Mr. Stark. Thanks for that tweet!” And then he was left alone in the humming elevator, a smile tugging at his lips at the thought that maybe—just maybe—the kid wasn’t going to dismiss him as a lost cause and someone who couldn’t be there to support him when needed.

Turning to his reflection, Tony muttered, “Don’t mess this up.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Peter felt slightly uneasy as he snuck out of Oscorp without first talking to Mr. Osborn, but the USB in his pocket was demanding his attention, especially after seeing how Mr. Osborn reacted to seeing Peter in his office, rambling about wanting to go out as an excuse. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected Mr. Osborn’s reaction to be, but it wasn’t for the man to demand to see if he’d taken anything from his office. It was like an admission that there really was something he was hiding… probably.

Honestly, he was still kind of amazed at the fact that he’d gotten away with hacking into Mr. Osborn’s computer. The USB Ned had given him was supposed to do all the work for Peter, downloading all the files that answered a few of the criteria the two of them could come up with. Which meant that Peter still had no idea what he’d downloaded, although the fact that there was anything to download in the first place was concerning.

His senses had alerted him to the approaching figures, luckily, so before they could see him sitting at Mr. Osborn’s desk, Peter had disconnected the drive, jumped away and made sure he looked like he was on his way from the door rather than toward it. He had no idea how it had managed to fool Mr. Osborn and—maybe—Mr. Stark, but he was grateful either way. For his spider-sense, most of all.

He considered heading toward Avengers Tower to use Mr. Stark’s lab to see what was on the drive, but the thought of checking to see if the man was telling the truth about Mr. Osborn or not on his own turf made Peter feel uneasy. His second option was Ned, but when he called him, his friend told him he was at the dentist and couldn’t help Peter right now or for the next couple of hours since he had no idea how long he’d have to wait.

So, wearing his too-baggy jeans, Star Wars shirt and Iron Man hoodie, Peter stepped into the public library, shaking his limbs to try and dry himself off after walking in the rain. The librarian behind the counter still sent him a disapproving look and tsked in his direction. With an apologetic look in her direction, he walked further inside and toward the corner desk.

There were only two public computers available and as Peter neared them his lips tugged down. They were both occupied. One man was hunched over the keyboard, smashing each key slowly, glancing between the letters and some book he had open next to him. The other computer was taken by two middle school girls who were giggling in between typing stuff out and clicking the mouse.

Looking around, Peter took a seat next to a random table and let his leg bounce up and down as he glanced between the USB in his hand and the computers, waiting for one of them to get vacated. He also kept an eye on the clock ticking away in the corner. The scent of old books filled his nose and his ears picked up the different conversations people were having all around, their voices hushed so as not to disturb anyone.

“Do you need help, dear?” the librarian asked as she approached him warily.

“Uh, no thanks. Just waiting for a computer, ma’am,” he said.

She gave him one last look, then moved away, grumbling about homeless people. Peter figured he probably shouldn’t have heard her so he tried not to let the complaints sting as he bit the inside of his cheek and started tapping his fingers against the table. At some point it looked like the man would get up and leave; Peter started getting ready to pounce at the computer and everything. But in the end he was just straightening up a little before hunching back down.

Peter groaned and dropped his head onto the table, his forehead pressing against the wooden surface as he tried to quell his jitteriness.

He stayed like that for a few seconds before his spider-sense suddenly kicked in, buzzing softly to let him know he was being watched. Sitting back up, Peter tensed and scanned the area all around him. There was a group of children huddled around a single book; an old lady was reading the summary of a novel; a young couple was bickering between each other, holding Twilight and gesturing wildly with their hands.

And then he spotted her, sitting at the table next to his with a book open in front of her and a backpack resting on the chair next to her. Instead of reading, though, she was looking at him intensely, as if trying to figure out where she knew him from. Peter expected her to pretend to go back to her book after being caught, but she didn’t waver in the least; in fact, her eyes narrowed in thought and concentration even more.

It didn’t take him long to figure out where he knew her from. He’d seen her briefly at that school assembly with Mr. Stark and Sam Wilson. It was the girl he’d shared the back bench of the bleachers with. Her hair was tied back in that exact same way, her brown eyes revealing both indifference and curiosity—an odd mix.

They both remained quiet, assessing each other, then the girl spoke up.

“Do you need a computer for something?”

Peter gulped and sent a look down at his USB. “Yeah. You… um… do you?”

She shook her head.

“Oh.” Peter blinked. “Cool.”

It fell silent again. The girl went back to reading her book and Peter looked over at the occupied computers, suppressing the urge to throw his arms in the air in frustration to show just how dissatisfied he was with having to wait for something that, to him, felt so important.

“I’ve seen you at Midtown before, right?” her voice said, drawing his attention back to her.

He nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, I… I think so.”

She regarded him for a long moment. Peter wasn’t sure what to do with himself so he simply kept on twitching and throwing looks toward the two computers. It didn’t seem to help in the least. The man kept on typing, the girls kept on giggling. But he couldn’t really demand to use the computer, right? That would be rude and they probably needed to do whatever they were doing, too. He just had to be patient and—

“You can use my laptop if you want,” the girl said.

Peter’s head snapped back around to her, his eyes wide. “Really?”

Shrugging uneasily, the girl nodded. “I mean, as long as you don’t melt my hard drive or plant a virus in it, you know? I’ll figure out a way to get back at you if you damage anything.”

He hesitated for a second, then scrambled to his feet when she unzipped her bag and pulled out her laptop, setting it on the table, right across from her. Peter sat down in front of it and before he could open and activate it, his gaze crept up and he met her eyes.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

Her lips twitched. She turned back to her book without saying anything else.

Once the laptop’s screen lit up, Peter inserted the drive and waited for it to load. He sent a brief look around, checking to see no one was looking over his shoulder to see what he was up to. The only one watching him, though, was the girl. She glanced up every now and then, her lips pursed and her eyes glinting with intrigue. At least she wasn’t saying anything, and she couldn’t see what Peter was up to, which was good.

A folder opened then, filled with the different files Peter had downloaded from Mr. Osborn’s computer. He scanned the random names, clicking on a few of them to see what secrets they held. Most of them, he found, were simply business related, not piquing his interest in the least. Some of them were indeed notes or blueprints of the arc reactor, which made Peter frown to himself.

But then he noticed the files that mentioned spiders and he clicked on them, scanning to see what was being revealed to him. There was data about the spider that Oscorp had worked on, the one that had given Peter his powers. Everything was renewed, he knew, recycled information. Peter had deleted everything he could on that spider once he’d discovered his powers. He didn’t want a repeat of that happening to anyone else.

He never copied the erased data so he couldn’t be sure, but he thought the calculations, equations and notes were slightly off. Yeah, he was kind of certain this spider wouldn’t have done the same thing to his body had it bitten him. Not the spider these files were describing.

There was a file about him, he found. A file with his name, his past sicknesses, his weight, height, age. The data regarding the changes that had occurred to his body as a result of the spider bite wasn’t accurate, but Peter didn’t mind that. He could see what the scientists had gathered from the blood he’d allowed them to draw from him and while he had to admit this was interesting to see and read about, it was clearly not enough for them to determine what exactly that spider had done to his body.

When he clicked on another file connected to spiders, he found records of how much of Peter’s blood there was at Oscorp. His heart sped up and he got a sinking feeling in his stomach at the realization that they’ve been basically mass-producing his blood so they’d have more to work with. It made him feel queasy and sick, his throat tightening as he made a note for himself to get rid of it all the first chance he got.

“Are you okay?”

He tore his gaze away from the screen to look at the girl. Her eyes were squinting at him, her brows low on her forehead as she tilted her head to the side. One of her fingers was preventing the book from closing, like a bookmark. She looked genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re muttering ‘no, no, no, God, no, shit’ to yourself,” she said dryly, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Peter chuckled awkwardly although he didn’t feel like laughing at all. “O-oh, yeah. It’s nothing. I’m just… dramatic?”

She stared at him a moment longer. “Are you doing something illegal?”

“Er…”

“That’s a yes, then.” She dropped her gaze back down to her book. “As long as my laptop makes it through and you don’t drag me into some kind of petty gang melodrama, I’m fine with it. But if the police come knocking at my door, I’m gonna blabber. Consider yourself warned.”

Swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat, Peter turned back to the screen. He tried to open the next file but it was encrypted. His frown deepened as he bit the inside of his cheek and cracked his knuckles. He wasn’t Ned, sure, but he could crack a code. He could get past a password easily. Even if a part of him felt a sense of foreboding overcoming him as he began decoding the file, wondering if this was really such a good idea.

It took him several minutes and he could feel the girl looking at him every now and then, clearly curious to know what he was up to. He kind of felt bad for using her PC for something like this, but he couldn’t stop now. He was so close; so close to figuring out what was hidden in this file—

“Yes!” he whispered triumphantly once he gained access.

The girl shuffled around a bit. “I feel like I should call the cops…”

He looked up at her at once but she was already back to reading her book, eyes tracing the words on the page and her phone nowhere in sight. He listened carefully to try and see if she was maybe typing or making a call underneath the table, but she was completely still. And his spider-sense was silent, not picking up on any ill-intent from her. Not that she was really planning on doing anything bad; she just wanted to report some oddly concerning behavior.

Figuring he was still safe for now, Peter started reading the new information on the screen. Globulin Green… blah, blah, blah… enhancement, strength, addictive… blah, blah, blah… gas consumption recommended… blah, blah—

Peter’s blood froze in his veins, his breath hitched and his stomach dropped at the sight of a video tucked away in there. He wasn’t going to risk the girl hearing the audio so he kept it muted, but the footage revealed enough. It showed the Green Goblin—Gwen’s murderer—talking to the camera about something although Peter didn’t know what. And then he pulled off his mask and—

“No… no, no, no, no, no!” hissed Peter as he gaped at the screen, his face going pale as his heart started beating against his ribcage, attempting to either break free through the bones or climb up his throat and make a run for it. “SHIT!”

The video ended and Peter stared at it for a second before he started it up again, closing his eyes tightly for a moment and wishing with all his heart that he’d imagined that, that it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t even begin to process something like that, probably because it couldn’t possibly be true!

But as the video continued playing on, Peter’s hope dwindled until the moment when it shattered completely and burned to ash at the sight of Green Goblin once more demasking himself and revealing Norman Osborn standing there, composed, calculative, looking perfectly calm and like the complete opposite of Peter.

CRACK!

He blinked through the haze in his mind; the fog circling his brain making everything seem unreal, distant. Before him, on the table, was the girl’s laptop, crunched, smashed, broken. He’d used too much force to close it. He was too unbalanced to even think to control his strength, so of course it broke, of course it shattered, of course it looked like it’d been crushed under the Hulk’s foot.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” said the girl flatly from across the table, her book now closed as she looked at the remains of her computer.

Trembling, Peter got up and scrambled backward, his mind racing and his heart clenching from the different emotions that were overwhelming him all at once. Fear, anger, guilt, horror, rage, confusion, grief, pain. He could feel a few more pairs of eyes turning to look at him, the sound of the laptop crunching having drawn their attention.

He had to get out of there.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, torn between the need to rush out of there already and apologizing to the girl. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I was just—it wasn’t—I’m sorry, I didn’t—oh, my God…”

He tugged at his hair and squeezed his eyes again, bile rising up his throat and threatening to choke him. But he forced it back down as he tried to regulate his breaths and calm down a little. He was in a public space, surrounded by strangers. He had to pull himself together, he had to keep his panic at bay until he was somewhere safer, more secure.

He wasn’t sure there was such a place for him anymore.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay?” the girl asked, half-rising from her seat, like she wasn’t sure if she should approach him or not. “You’re not high or anything, right?”

“I’m gonna pay you back,” he promised. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna pay you back for that, I swear. It was an accident. I… I don’t have…” He pulled out his wallet and blurrily pulled out the two dollar bills inside. “I have, like, two dollars and thirty cents. But, like, I’ll get more. I’ll just save until I have enough to pay you back or buy you a new laptop or—or—I can try to fix it. But, like, I don’t have all the parts. Oh, man. I’m so sorry…”

“Forget about the stupid laptop,” said the girl as she finally got up and rounded the table to stand in front of him. “It’s whatever. It was old, anyway. Are you okay, though? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Gwen, reaching out for him, screaming out his name, begging him to catch her before it was too late.

Peter swayed on his feet. His hands clenched by his sides. “I’ve gotta go.”

“You can’t be serious right now,” grumbled the girl as he turned toward the exit of the library. “Hey, hold on! You at least owe me your name, so I know who to look for to get me that new laptop you said you owe me!”

The librarian sent her a harsh look for raising her voice.

Peter faltered a little and glanced at the girl over his shoulder. He considered his options the best he could, which he was pretty sure wasn’t that effective when his mind felt like it was on fire—either from his shock or his fury; he couldn’t tell.

“Bartholomew Kasady,” he said eventually.

“Isn’t Kasady that serial killer that was just convicted? And Bartholomew… that’s that comic character—the Flash. Are you seriously giving me a fake name?” she demanded, following him to the door.

Peter groaned when she stepped in front of him, blocking the exit with her body. One of her arms was crossed over her chest. Her other hand was hovering in front of Peter, her index finger stabbing him in the chest. It was surprisingly grounding and he found his thoughts slowing down a little as he focused on her and not the maniacal laughter, the devilish mask or Gwen’s scream echoing in his head.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you look like you’re being hunted or something,” said the girl, clearly trying to keep her voice low and collected so no one else would hear her. “I probably should have called the cops because you were definitely doing something illegal with my computer, but I didn’t. The least you owe me is your real name.”

He shook his head. “You don’t want my real name,” he managed to utter. “You’ll be in danger. I can’t… I can’t worry about another person right now. Just forget you saw me, okay? I’ll… I’ll pay you back for the computer but just… I need some time.”

Her eyes darted all over his face, searching. “How will you find me to give me the money?”

“Um…”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I go to Midtown. Just look for me. I’m MJ.”

“Your name is MJ?”

“It’s my initials. And you’re not getting my full name until I get your real one, you jerk.”

Peter didn’t even flinch. He just nodded in agreement and stepped outside once she moved aside to let him pass. The rain greeted him once again but he could hardly feel it as his mind once more zeroed in on the only thing that really mattered—the Green Goblin was Norman Osborn. He’d killed Gwen.

Peter began to run.

Chapter Text

Peter donned the Spider-Man suit for the first time since SHIELD had tried taking him down a few days ago. It felt like it’s been a lifetime since then. Peter’s annoyance, confusion and fear from back then had shifted, forming into cold rage and fury that simmered around his bones, pulsing through his veins, muscles; every single cell in his body.

He swung across the city, the usual joy that came from the up and down motions missing. He felt a sort of hollowness where every positive emotion in his body used to belong. The cold afternoon air and the rain that soaked him to his bone would have made him shiver any other time, but this time it did nothing. Peter was already cold, colder than any other time in his life. The weather had no effect on him.

The voices of the people below mingled together in his brain, not registering fully as his mind kept on focusing on one person, everything else falling away around him. It didn’t matter if that child was pointing up at Peter while jumping up and down. It didn’t matter that the elderly woman was gasping in shock as he swung right past her. It didn’t matter that a group of construction workers were cursing him for everything they were worth.

Every single heartbeat sounded like Norman Osborn’s name. Every pitter-patter of the rain echoed Green Goblin’s cackling laughter. New York City’s lights all faded to the background, all its skyscrapers dwarfing in his eyes as his vision remained fixed solely on the Oscorp building gleaming in the distance.

He stopped swinging a couple of times to look around him and check the area until eventually he found a good enough place. Setting off to work, Peter started leaping between two skyscrapers, connecting his webs to the walls, windows and to each other in an elaborate way. He hyper-focused on the task at hand, ignoring the occasional call of acknowledgement from the pedestrians below him or the people who dared open up their windows to ask what he was trying to do.

There were phone cameras pointed at him, he could feel, but unlike his usual routine, this time he let it happen. This was good, actually. This was exactly what he needed. He needed to get their attention so they’d get his attention. If he was keeping tabs on Spider-Man, he’d see this.

The rain stopped at some point. Peter was glad because while his stickiness could still handle wet surfaces, it felt less stable and he wasn’t all that comfortable with it. Sometimes he did slip when it rained, especially while trying to stick to glassy surfaces.

When he was nearly done, his spider-sense chimed in and Peter dodged a bullet that was sent toward him with a loud bang! He clung to the side of one of the buildings and narrowed his eyes at the police forces far below him. There were six police cars and plenty of officers, all pointing their guns at him. One was holding a megaphone up to his mouth, yelling at Peter to surrender now.

“I am so done with this,” he muttered to himself.

He let go of the building and allowed himself to fall down. He waited for the last moment before shooting out a web to catch himself, then used it to swing toward the officer holding the megaphone. The man shrieked and dropped the device, moving to avoid getting hit by the vigilante. The rain of bullets that followed Peter down there would have been difficult to avoid had he not been Spider-Man. As it were, he simply evaded all the shots, then casually picked up the megaphone and put it up to his lips.

“Hello, New York. This is Spider-Man speaking. For the next few hours I suggest you all stay indoors, somewhere safe. Unless you want to get hurt by a psycho on a glider, that is—Can you stop shooting me for five seconds!—to each their own, I suppose. Thank you, good evening!”

He tossed the megaphone back at the baffled officer who’d managed it before, then pointed at an armed officer that was looking at him hesitantly instead of trying to reload her gun in order to shoot him along with her comrades.

“You!” he called and the woman straightened up in alarm, her eyes widening. “Tell Captain Stacy he’d better leave me alone and instead focus on the safety of the people of this city.” He walked up to her until they were face to face, her body frozen under his gaze. “Tell him that unless he wants a repeat of what’d happened to G—to his daughter, he’d better make sure everyone stays securely inside. Got it?”

“I—”

“Shoot him, already!” someone called.

Peter dodged three more bullets, his annoyance spiking again as he shot a web backward without looking, enjoying the satisfying sound of two officers complaining and cursing him ruthlessly. But he kept on looking at the woman before him, her lip worrying between her teeth as she seemed to contemplate what to do next.

For a single beat nothing happened, and then the woman nodded tersely once before putting her gun back in its holster and instead picking up her radio. Peter could practically feel the waves of shock from the other officers, although one of them looked more resigned than stunned by the woman’s agreement to follow Spider-Man’s instruction.

“Hold your fire,” the man said, and the others gave him incredulous looks. The man kept on looking at Peter, though. “Spider-Man, what’s going on?”

“I’m not mind-controlling her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I know that. You saved her husband the other day. She’s just grateful,” the officer said flippantly. “I’m talking about the fact that you’re warning everyone something is about to go down. And you’re writing some kind of message in the sky”—he pointed up at the forming letters of webs between the two skyscrapers—“that seems to invite trouble.”

Another officer called, “Not to mention how you brought up the captain’s daughter’s death. Wasn’t that your fault in the first place?”

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, Norman Osborn’s infuriatingly collected expression forming in his mind, taunting him behind his eyelids. His hands clenched by his sides as he tried to keep them from shaking as Gwen’s last scream echoed in his head again, the terror in it almost palpable.

“Yeah,” he said darkly and sent a web back up. “And I’m going to make sure the man who killed her won’t get away with it a second time. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He flung himself back up and scaled all the way up to where his message was still waiting to be finished. Peter could hear the police officers below discussing what to do and how to proceed from here. Some of them mentioned the Green Goblin, guessing he was going to show up again. Some of them voiced their irritation and distrust of Spider-Man.

Ignoring them all, Peter went back to webbing up a few words between the two buildings, his webs slowly running out. It took a little while, but eventually it was done and Peter stuck to one of the buildings and stared at it as he refilled his web cartridges. His chest was heaving from jumping back and forth for so long, but there was a sense of satisfaction in his chest as he appreciated his own hard work.

“Holy shit, dude,” someone muttered from a nearby window, phone held up high to take a photo.

Peter completely ignored him, instead swinging to a lower apartment building that was overlooking his creation. He pulled out his phone and held it up to take a picture of the message: Can the Green Goblin come out to play? Then he opened up his chat with Norman Osborn and sent the image without hesitation. He stared at the screen for a moment longer before shoving his phone back into his pocket, sitting down on the rooftop and just… waiting.

✧ ✧ ✧

Waiting, Peter thought bitterly, was probably the worst part about this whole thing. Everything in his life seemed to include waiting. He always had to wait for other people to act first, to do something, to entice some kind of response. He was sick of it, but he had to wait now. He didn’t really have any other choice, unless he wanted to straight up barge into Oscorp, which he did not. He never wanted to set foot in that place again.

The problem with waiting wasn’t that Peter had nothing to do. It was that it gave his brain pause and allowed it to dwell on things he didn’t want to dwell on. Naturally, this time what popped in his head was Gwen—everything to do with her, before they started going out, during their time together, her death. Everything.

They’d met at middle school for the first time. They hadn’t interact much with each other, only sharing a glance here, a polite smile there. She had her own group of friends to hang out with and Peter had… well, mostly his trusty camera and his chemistry textbooks to leaf through during lunch. Oh, yes, and Flash’s splendid personality, of course.

In the end what’d made them actually talk to each other was a pairs’ project for their history class. Gwen was far better than Peter was when it came to history so it’d made him feel self-conscious and awkward, knowing he couldn’t contribute as much to their assignment. But she’d made it seem like she didn’t mind it in the least, so eventually Peter managed to actually have some fun hanging out with her and looking stuff up together.

For a while afterward they had just texted each other occasionally. They mostly joked around, never bringing up anything too serious. They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t strangers either. It was a strange situation to be in, but Peter hadn’t minded all that much, instead just basking in the knowledge that there was someone he could talk to who seemed to enjoy their conversations as much as he did.

And then they started at Midtown and Gwen’s friends all moved to different schools. With the new environment and people all around, Peter never found it all that odd that they gravitated toward each other. It made perfect sense. They’d known each other for long enough and they’d got along rather well. Why wouldn’t they end up hanging out more often than not, right?

About three months into their freshman year they’d had that field trip to Oscorp. Peter had wandered off to the bathroom, then got lost on his way back to his class. He’d ended up walking into that room with the spider that landed on his hand and bit him. And then for a little while after things had been hectic, with Peter’s body seemingly collapsing while trying to stay alive by hanging on desperately.

Then came the powers, the confidence, that big change that had made him distance himself from everyone around him as he tried to figure out what was going on and how to handle it. It had been a lot, and would have probably been less of a pain had he actually relied on someone—his aunt and uncle, or Gwen. Instead, he’d ended up with Uncle Ben dying in his arms and the guilt eating up at him.

After that, becoming Spider-Man felt like the obvious thing to do. It had been the only route he could see paved before him, so he took it. And even though it had all been a lot—the responsibility, the grief, the sudden hole in his life—Peter made sure to try and be there for Aunt May and Gwen as much as he could in between. After all, who knew when the world would take even more people away from him, right?

About a month into his Spider-Man gig, Gwen and he had started dating. Peter had been utterly stunned at her agreement to go out with him, so convinced this was a lost cause and he would have to cut his losses and somehow salvage their friendship before everything became too awkward between them. But she had said yes, so they’d gone on a date. And another one. And another one, and another one, and another one.

That must have been the best part of his life. Uncle Ben wasn’t there, true, but Peter had Aunt May and Gwen, and his Spider-Man persona was shaping up into something solid, dependable. He’d hated lying to the two of them, but helping people, no matter how small the matter seemed to be compared to—say—alien invasions, made Peter feel like it was all worth it. Plus, meeting the Human Torch had been awesome and running into Deadpool was… interesting.

And there were just… so many moments.

Like their first kiss in Peter’s living room, a forgotten movie playing in the background as they instead chatted to each other in hushed tones so as not to disturb Aunt May. Or that awkward visit of Peter to her place, where he’d met her family and then wanted to jump off her apartment building to the cement below out of sheer embarrassment. And there was, of course, the day when he’d finally told Gwen he was Spider-Man after she kept on asking and asking where he kept on going.

There was a folder on his computer with all of the pictures he had of Gwen—with him, by herself, with her family or other friends. Anything related to Gwen was there and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. There were pictures where she laughed; ones where she jumped with joy; ones where she looked exhausted after studying for a test; ones where there’d be an annoyed twist to her lips aimed at the person holding the camera; ones where she’d be in the middle of doing something mundane, not even aware of the camera capturing these moments forever.

Letting Gwen do as she pleased during his fights because she wanted to help him was something Peter had been nervous about, but her determination to see this through had convinced him that he was probably overreacting. He’d warned her, he’d tried to keep an eye on her, he’d told her again and again that it was probably a bad idea and she should get to safety when things got bad. But she’d always ignored these warnings with a beautiful smile and a confident objection. So he’d let it go.

Aunt May’s death had caught him off guard, unprepared. He’d forgotten bad things could happen to the people in his life that had nothing to do with him being Spider-Man. Like, say, a car crash when he wasn’t around to prevent it or try to stop the cars from colliding. It hadn’t been anybody’s fault so Peter had no one to blame or take his frustration out on. All he could do was disappear, fall off the face of the earth before Child Protective Services got a hold of him and shoved him into some stranger’s home.

Gwen had been the only one he kept in touch with. She’d let him crash at her place almost every single day, constantly lying to her parents so as not to let them figure out Peter was visiting their house repeatedly. He’d been able to hear Captain Stacy worriedly talking to his wife about looking for him, trying to find a hint or hair of Peter so they could help him. But it hadn’t been enough to make Peter come out. He was fine, or at least that’s why he’d convinced himself of. He was fine and he would be fine; he didn’t need any adult supervision, not when they all seemed to drop like flies all around him.

And then the Green Goblin had come along and Peter wished he would have done more to keep Gwen safe. Something, anything.

Up until now he had been so sure the Goblin had just grabbed the first civilian he could find, knowing Peter would do anything to save anyone in the city, no matter who it was. It had been personal to Peter, sure, but he’d assumed… well, the Goblin never referred to him as anything but Spider-Man, so why would Peter guess the guy had targeted someone he knew Peter cared about?

But knowing the guy behind that green mask had been Norman Osborn all along, Peter found himself cursing his own naiveness. He should have known better. He should have realized from the moment the Goblin had picked Gwen off the ground and dangled her in the air that this was more personal than it seemed at first glance. He’d known all along what this would be doing to Peter and he made him think it had been just chance, an accident, unplanned.

The anger simmering under his skin, filling him to the brim as a distant figure flew toward him from the direction of Oscorp, gliding closer and closer. Peter squinted at it, his hands clenching by his sides as he got up and rolled his shoulders in preparation for what was coming.

“Gotcha,” he muttered, then shot a web forward and swung ahead to meet the Goblin head on.

✧ ✧ ✧

They collided in midair.

The Goblin was flying forward, already cackling like the situation amused him to no end. Peter swung toward him, his muscles straining to pull himself toward his target as quickly as possible. And then they met, with Peter trying to knock the man off his glider and the Goblin managing to stay on while also delivering a swift punch to Peter’s side.

The glider stuttered in the air as the Green Goblin attempted to right himself after Peter’s attack. Peter found himself falling toward the ground before he twisted and shot a web back up to the underbelly of the hovering device, the white string catching him and keeping him suspended in the air as the Goblin kept on flying forward, his laughter somehow growing in volume now.

“Got your message, Spider-Man,” said the Goblin in a sing-song voice. “I was almost impressed.”

Climbing up his web, Peter made it up to the glider, the stuck to its metal, ignoring the way it swerved from side to side as they flew around the city and above the rooftops. Grinding his teeth, he peeked up from underneath the glider and shot a web at Goblin’s face, covering the holes of his eyes.

“Argh! That’s cheating!” he screeched as the glider moved more erratically, its driver unable to see. “You really can be quite a pest, can’t you? Not to worry, this is not going to last long. You never did stand a chance against me.”

Peter crawled onto the top of the glider and ducked when a flailing, green limb was flung in his direction. The Goblin’s other hand was busy trying to get the webs off his face so he could see what he was doing and where he was going again. His weight on one side of the glider, though, made the machine tilt a little to the side—enough to let the Goblin know where he was standing and where to turn his punches toward.

He leaned to the side to avoid the first one, jumped to the other side of the glider to evade the second, and then caught the third punch, his wrist creaking worriedly from the force behind the hit; he just barely managed to stop it before it could land. But when Peter tried to use the arm in his possession to fling the Green Goblin off the glider, the man was already twisting away to free himself, nearly throwing Peter off, instead.

“What’s wrong? Not in the mood to joke around?” said Green Goblin as he finally managed to tug the webs off. He grinned widely at Peter as he sent a kick toward his stomach only for Peter to jump onto his shoulders. “And here I thought quipping in the middle of a battle was your thing. You didn’t learn to fight silently from me.”

“You didn’t teach me anything!” Peter sneered.

He pushed upward as hard as he could, trying to throw Goblin off balance. He landed on the side of a building and frowned at the way the man flailed around a little without falling. Sending a web toward his leg, Peter pulled as hard as he could and watched as the Goblin finally fell down, his glider still moving forward uncontrollably without anyone to steer it.

His first instinct was to jump straight after Goblin to fight him, knowing this fall would most likely only wind him a little but wouldn’t do much more than that. But his eyes caught on the glider that was flying straight toward an office building, where the faces of the workers appeared in the windows, staring in fascinated terror at the approaching vehicle that would most likely cut through the glass like it was nothing and hurt—if not kill—some of them.

Gwen’s face flashed in his mind and he hissed furiously.

“Leaving the party so soon?” laughed Goblin as he landed on the pavement with a loud smack.

Peter scowled under his mask as he quickly followed the glider, swinging quickly to try and get to it before it was too late. His head was filled with the cackling being he was leaving behind, but he forced himself to move toward the glider anyway. He wanted to focus on the Goblin. He wanted to deal with him, not anyone else, but he also didn’t want another casualty from this fight. No one was going to die by the Goblin’s hands, not anymore, not if he could help it.

Landing precariously on the glider, Peter held out his hands to stabilize himself, then frowned when the machine didn’t obey him at all. Seriously? Only Gobbie got to ride this thing? Could he do nothing to turn it away from the building and those terrified faces that were now backing away, realizing how much danger they were in?

Falling to a crouch, Peter drew his fist back, then down into the metal. It scraped his fingers and he could feel the spandex and his own skin tearing from the sharp edges, but he ignored the minor pain in favor of gripping a chunk of what was tucked inside and pulling it out. His stomach swooped when the glider stuttered in the air before its motor quieted down and the thing started diving down, toward the street.

With a flick of his wrists, Peter created a webbing net below him before jumping off the damaged vehicle. He caught himself with a web and landed on the ground with a huff, not checking to see if his webbing held against the weight of the glider. It didn’t matter. No one was below it, so no one would get hurt either way.

His eyes scanned the area quickly before he noticed the Green Goblin standing at an intersection, tsking to himself and using a laser to carve the image of his face onto the wall of a building. He looked like he was losing his patience, waiting for Peter to be done, and it made his eyes narrow as his belly churned with anger and resentment.

“He couldn’t just break his neck on his way down, could he?” he grumbled to himself, then called, “I’m sorry, am I boring you?”

“Saving people is so redundant, don’t you think?” responded the Goblin. “I never understood why you wanted to do this your entire life. It’s an endless cycle—you save them, they spit in your face, you save them again. Don’t you ever learn? If they don’t respect you, all the power in the world isn’t worth it.”

Spider-sense blaring, Peter jumped out of the way of the laser turning on him. He landed on a lamp post and quickly swung toward Goblin.

“What do you know about respect?” spat Peter. “The only one in the world you respect is yourself. You pretend to have integrity, but you don’t. You lie to people’s faces as long as it serves a purpose, as long as it helps you!”

“True, true, all true,” saif Goblin with a grunt as Peter kneed him in the back harshly. “But the point is having respect, not respecting others. And that, Spidey, I’ve certainly got. This entire city knows they have to respect the Green Goblin!”

“They fear you, that’s not the same!”

“Fear and respect stem from each other,” the man dismissed as he exchanged more blows with Peter. “Oh, it’s such a shame. I had such big plans for you, you know. There is so much promise tucked away in you, yet you were always too stubborn to let me study it, learn from it, train you how to realize your potential! You could have been better than all those so-called heroes this city has. You could have been greater than all of them combined had you just surrendered and stopped fighting me every step of the way!”

Peter ducked to avoid a hit, then threw his own fists. A swell of dark satisfaction filled his body as they all connected with his target, forcing Goblin back slowly but surely. It seemed Goblin found the moment fascinating as well, his hand coming up to wipe the trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, soaking through the mask. He stared at his red-stained fingers in wonder, then cackled some more.

Using his webs, Peter propelled himself forward and knocked into the Green Goblin with all the force he could muster, making him slam against the wall of a building with a resounding thud and a low grunt. And he still kept on laughing.

“What is your problem!” shouted Peter in aggravation.

Goblin met his gaze, his eyes twinkling with mirth behind the mask. “All this time I was waiting to see what would finally tip the scales and make you stop holding back. I should have known it would be your foolish sentiments again,” he said mockingly, spitting out the word ‘sentiment’ like it was a personal offence to him.

“Shut up!”

The Goblin tried to get back to his feet and scramble away but Peter pulled him by the arm and hit his head as strong as he could. It once more smacked into the wall behind him and the Goblin spat out some blood but kept on laughing, laughing, laughing.

“It took me a while to understand, you know,” said the Goblin, wheezing at the feeling of a kick to his stomach. “It was really baffling, knowing Spider-Man should be able to kill people with a simple punch, yet not a single person was ever too badly injured under your care. You actually managed to struggle against regular people. It was infuriating to watch, especially because—”

“I swear to God, Gobbie, I’m gonna pull off this stupid mask and cut off your tongue if you—”

“—all the scraps of information we had on you told us you should be stronger than what you were appearing to be.” The man coughed, his head snapping to the side from the force of another punch. “And then you told me you were holding yourself back. ‘I’m scared someone’s gonna die because of me, sir. I don’t want to go this far!’ Pathetic!” he spat mockingly.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know I’m willing to make an exception for you,” Peter growled.

“I’m flattered, really,” the Goblin cackled joyously.

“What”—punch!—“would”—kick!—“it”—bash!—“take”—whack!—“to”—punch!—“make”—wham!—“you”—punch!—“shut”—thrust!—“up!”

Peter was panting at this point. His hands hurt, his muscles ached, his face was soaked with sweat—something that hasn’t happened since Gwen—

Ignoring his body’s longing to just back away and take a breather, Peter went on. He could see the Goblin was struggling immensely under the onslaught. He was strong, but Peter was stronger. Or at least had the upper hand right now. He wasn’t going to move and let this scum get away with everything he’d done. Not this time. This was the one thing he wasn’t going to regret, he could feel it. He wanted this.

Spitting out some more blood, Goblin kept on cackling, like this was amusing him; like this whole thing was a joke in his eyes. It was maddening.

“I should have told you the truth a long time ago. I had no idea it would finally snap you out of your shell,” the Goblin mumbled incoherently. “I was really disappointed at first, see? I figured killing your little girlfriend would have pushed you over the edge—”

He wasn’t sure what happened next exactly. Peter felt like he blacked out. One second he was facing Goblin, who was hurt badly, but still standing on trembling feet. The next moment the Green Goblin was on the ground, battered and laughing while trying to squirm away. Peter’s foot was on his chest, keeping him in place as he shot out a web down the street and tugged without looking.

A part of the ruined glider hurled toward him and Peter caught it with a slightly trembling hand before tearing a piece of it and tossing the rest aside. Left with a metallic rod in his hand, he shifted it to have a better grip on his improvised weapon, the sharp edge gleaming menacingly in the rays of the setting sun.

Peter looked down at the Goblin and the rest of the world fell away.

He couldn’t hear anyone. Not the distant sounds of the city, not the freaked-out spectators. Not the people inside the neighboring buildings who were probably watching the entire thing from their windows; they sounded frantic. Not the Police sirens in the distance, getting closer to the scene—like that would help in any way. Not the person crying nearby. Not the girl who was shrieking something about Spider-Man. Not the man viciously quoting the Daily Bugle.

He couldn’t see anything. Not the asphalt, not the cracks in the building that was covered in the Green Goblin’s blood. Not the beautiful sunset that could be seen through the cracks in the cover of clouds. Not the dust in the air or the warm puffs that came out of his mouth every time he exhaled.

He couldn’t feel anything. But that wasn’t any different. He’s been numb ever since he’d run out of the library. Logic told him his body was weary, but he couldn’t feel a thing other than hatred and anger and grief. His body felt completely empty and devoid of just about everything while also brimming with these emotions that left a metallic taste in his mouth.

Oh, wait, maybe that was just blood.

All there was left in the world was just him and the Green Goblin. Norman Osborn. Him looming over the man who’d ruined his life and panting heavily; and the Goblin, finally looking up at him from the floor, his costume soaked with blood and his eyes wide open as he stopped laughing for the first time since showing up to the scene.

With his numb hands Peter lifted the metal rod and prepared to strike. The Goblin was fighting even harder to get away now, pushing and shifting and struggling to break free.

He looked… scared.

Peter froze.

His breath rattled as the face before him flashed, another face overlapping with it. One with softer features and blond curls framing it. One with flushed cheeks and freckles dotting the bridge of its nose. One with a faded scar on its cheek from a childhood accident with scissors. One that had this same exact kind of terror etched into it during those brief moments before every muscle went slack—

What was he doing? He couldn’t kill someone—

That’s the man who’d murdered Gwen! A voice in the back of his head whispered insistently.

But killing him wouldn’t bring her back! It would just make Peter a murderer, as well—

If anyone deserves it, it’s Norman Osborn!

He couldn’t be the judge of that, it wasn’t his choice to make—

What if they let him go? What if he uses his money to get out of paying for everything he’d done?

Uncle Ben, Aunt May, Gwen… none of them would have approved of this; none of them would have supported this decision. Apprehending him, yes, but not being his executioner—

They’re not here. It doesn’t matter what they would have said—

“I can’t do this,” Peter choked out.

He took his foot off the Green Goblin and stumbled back, the metal rod clattering to the floor. The sound made him flinch ever so slightly, echoing around Peter’s brain and whispering his intentions from just a moment ago.

The world around him came crashing back down all around him. Sounds, sights, smells; all of it.

He could hear the loud, alarmed voices of the people who were observing this entire scene. He could see their phones aimed at him and the Goblin from the safety of their houses, recording the whole thing with looks that varied from petrified to excited and eager. It made his stomach squirm painfully, his insides turning upside down as he looked down at his gloved hands only to find a different shade of red staining the fabric of his costume.

Turning around, Peter pulled his mask up to his nose and threw up in the middle of the road, his body trembling with exhaustion and shock. His eyes were stinging from unshed tears, his vision blurry. He wanted to lie down and sleep until this nightmare finally came to an end; he wanted to go back in time, just let him go back in time. He wanted to see his family again, cherish them, stay with them, where Spider-Man didn’t exist and he could feel like his world wasn’t crumbling all around him anymore.

He wanted to go to the cemetery again, visit all his ghosts and beg for their forgiveness. He wasn’t even sure what he would be apologizing for—everything, nothing. There was a pool of guilt in his stomach that wouldn’t come out with the rest of the bile and it was so frustrating and heavy. He felt like it was pulling him further and further down—or perhaps that was the exhaustion.

There was a scarping noise behind him but Peter couldn’t be bothered to check to see what its source was. He couldn’t be bothered to do much more than breathe and heave and clench his fists in his lap to keep them from trembling even more. He didn’t care what came next, he just wanted the world to be silent again, to let him exist without all the pain—was that his spider-sense?

“Spider-Man, look out!”

Peter tried to force his body to move but his limbs felt like they were full of lead, weighing him down and preventing him from escaping. He barely managed to struggle back up to his feet before the feeling of something sharp impaling his stomach processed in his brain. He looked down and found the edge of that metal rod poking out of him.

He blinked slowly. “Ow.”

“Disappointing,” said the Goblin’s voice from behind him. “Well, I guess I’ll have to experiment until I find someone who won’t be as weak and pathetic as you are. Analyzing your body will certainly help speed up the process. Thank you for volunteering.”

Peter cried out when the rod was pulled out of him, leaving a hole clear through his abdomen. Blood started pouring out and he stared at it with furrowed brows as he sluggishly pulled his mask back down over his mouth. His other hand hovered over the gaping wound, hesitant and unsure.

Everything felt so woozy.

He turned around to face the Green Goblin, who lifted the rod once more, an apathetic expression on his masked face. “Goodspeed, Spider-Man.”

“Oh, shit, I can’t look!” someone whimpered.

Another one cursed. “That does not look good. Isn’t anybody gonna do anything?”

“RUN, SPIDEY!” a third one shrieked.

Run? Oh, yeah, that sounded like a pretty good idea.

Peter swiped at the Goblin’s legs. The surprise from Peter fighting back must have been the only reason why it worked. The man lost his balance and flailed a little in an attempt to regain it, giving Peter enough time to muffle a pained whimper as he webbed up his wound the best he could to stop the bleeding and shoot a web so he could sling out of there.

Even though it hurt like hell, Peter swung away from there as fast as he could, thanking God for the Goblin’s glider being down. It would have been a nightmare, trying to escape the man when he could still fly.

He hissed when he knocked into buildings, his vision becoming more and more blurry as time went on, the pain intensified and his eyes filled with tears that his mask soaked right up. He had no idea where he was going, no idea what was even left of his life. He couldn’t stop to catch a breath, and every single one he managed to slip in made his pain flare right back up.

Eventually his grip on his web faltered and he found himself skidding to a halt on a rooftop, his ribs creaking and his injury protesting. The webs blocking the hole were already painted red from his blood and he knew it wouldn’t hold for long, especially not when he was moving around so much. He had to find a place to rest his eyes, let his body heal. Hopefully. He had to hope he’d be able to open his eyes again.

Leaning his hands on his thighs, Peter tried to collect his wandering, mushy thoughts. It was difficult. He could hardly concentrate at the state he was in. But he forced himself to ignore the pain, ignore the confliction brewing in his stomach, ignore the distant cackling he could hear again—although he wasn’t sure whether that was an echo in his brain or actually the Green Goblin.

His hand shakily pulled out his phone. It was even more cracked than before but luckily still functional. Unlocking it, he opened up his contacts and scrolled down, down, down…

Norman Osborn’s name glared at him tauntingly but Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smashing his phone and instead tapped the name right above Norman’s. He swallowed nervously as he pressed the phone to his ear and wrapped his free arm around his middle while trying to regulate his breathing.

The phone ringed five times before—

“Hello?”

Peter wheezed in relief, then coughed violently.

“Peter, is that you? I just saw on the news—”

“Ned, I need your help,” he rasped out.

A beat of silence. Then: “What do you need?”

Chapter Text

Ned really wished he’d asked more questions but it sounded like every word Peter got out cost him a great deal of energy and he figured it’d be best to simply hear him out and question him later. Which ended with him borrowing his mom’s car to drive around a few blocks, keeping an eye out for his clothes. The ones he’d given Spidey—Peter—but whatever.

A part of him wanted to complain about how vague Peter’d been. He couldn’t even tell him where exactly the clothes were, only their general location. It wasn’t very helpful, but Ned could tell the guy was freaking out so he pushed away his own irritation and instead parked his car before beginning to wander around, entering dangerous alleyways to check to see if the clothes were webbed up to the walls of dumpsters there.

It would have been much scarier had the city streets not been mostly deserted. Ned had been on his way back home from the dentist when his phone pinged with the messages of some of his classmates, all of them gushing about some kind of video of Spider-Man confronting the police. It’d prompted him to look for it, and then he’d just gaped down at the screen, where he could see Spider-Man coldly telling the cops shooting him to back away and warn the city to stay inside, where it was safe.

Had Ned not heard Spidey in person—and Peter Parker—before watching that video, he would have had to agree with the media and their government. This darker tone, this still posture, this intimidating aura around Spidey made him look like a threat to the city rather than one of the good guys. It looked so wrong.

Anyway, the police had taken Spidey’s warning to heart, for a change. Probably because he’d brought up that tragic death of the police captain’s daughter. Gwen Stacy. Ned couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful it must have been for him to bring her up in conversation like that.

So here Ned was, strolling along, looking for the clothes and keeping an eye out, just in case. He knew the police had yet to release the public. They still wanted everyone to remain inside, but considering Spider-Man had been the one to tell Ned to walk out again, well… he figured Peter wouldn’t have sent him on this search had it still been dangerous. Hopefully.

He entered the next alleyway and exhaled in relief. The familiar clothes were bundled together, tucked away near the wall and looking very unassuming. He recognized the Star Wars logo on the shirt and ran forward to pick them up. And now that he had the clothes, he could go toward Peter’s location. And this one was much more detailed thanks to him simply sharing his location with Ned. He would be much easier to find.

Getting back in the car, Ned checked his phone to make sure Peter hasn’t moved, then drove through the rather quiet streets of Queens. It didn’t take him long to reach the spot where Peter was, although then he realized he’d also have to climb up to the roof of a building that had a code, leaving him with climbing the fire escape as his only option. Great.

Snatching the clothes, Ned started ascending, huffing and panting and sweating profoundly. This wasn’t exactly helping his irritation, but he pushed through. He could ask what the hell was wrong with Peter once he reached him. Right now he just had to focus on breathing in and out and reaching the rooftop, where Peter had texted him he was.

Perfectly out of breath, Ned climbed over the edge and collapsed onto the cement roof with a groan. His side hurt as he tried to reorientate himself. His head was a little swirly as he gulped in air while attempting to get over turning sharply again and again for so long. He leaned his hands on his hips and wheezed.

“Never doing that again,” he gasped out. “Seriously, dude, there are lower buildings in the area, you kn—holy shit! Are you okay?”

Spider-Man was sitting with his back against the stone railing on the opposite side of the roof. One of his hands was pressed against his stomach and what seemed to be a batch of red webs stuck to it. His mask was still on his face despite having been alone up there, a little bit of blood-red smeared across its lenses. Actually, there were a lot of darker patches of red covering the entirety of the suit.

His slumped shoulders gave Ned the impression that he was completely exhausted and devoid of energy. They looked like they were supporting a heavy burden, the entire world just balanced there for Spidey to carry. His head hanging low was kind of giving the same message, almost like he was actually asleep and not even conscious enough to notice that Ned was now there.

But one of his legs was bouncing frantically, restlessly. His hands were twitching and fiddling in his lap. While his entire upper body seemed to be shut down and turned off, the lower part was clearly bursting with energy, yearning to move, do something. It was baffling to watch.

The small puddle of blood he was sitting in was alarming, though.

Rushing forward, Ned crouched in front of Spidey and looked him over frantically. “Shit. Um… you don’t look too good. Wow, okay, um… I guess that’s what happens when people face the Green Goblin, huh?”

He said it like a joke—and his voice was also high-pitched and hysterical—but Spidey flinched at the name of the villain like it was the worst thing Ned could have said. He let out a sort of guttural sound, not unlike a wounded animal, and shifted a bit before hissing in pain and pressing his hand more firmly against his stomach.

“What happened? Peter? Peter, hey, you have to say something ‘cause you’re freaking me out! What happened to you? I only saw the beginning of the fight and then you called me. I’ve no idea how it ended. Did he do this to you? Are you dying? Tell me you’re not dying!”

“…orn osbn,” he mumbled incoherently.

Ned furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

Spidey’s free hand clenched. “Norm’n Osb’rn,” he said sharply. “It was Norman Osborn. It’s been him all along. I can’t… I found out a few hours ago and I just… I didn’t know what to do or what to think or—ow, ow, ow, ow!” He whimpered when his middle moved too much as he talked.

“What about Norman Osborn?” said Ned. “Do you want me to call him? What—”

“No!” Spidey’s head snapped up and his lenses locked with Ned’s eyes. “Do not contact him. Like, ever. He’s not who you think he is. He’s… he’s the Goblin. He’s been tricking me for months.”

Gaping, Ned reeled back. “No way…”

“I can’t believe I fell for it,” Spidey grumbled, head falling back against the railing. “I knew he was bad news. I knew he was hiding something. Or… I mean, I could tell something was off. I could feel it. Why couldn’t I have done something about it instead of standing aside and letting him go on like that? Urgh, this is why you can’t trust anyone!”

“Okay, okay, you’re going through… a lot,” observed Ned. He ignored Spidey’s snort. “But I think you’re still bleeding and it doesn’t look like a minor thing, you know? So we should get you someplace. Like a hospital or something, yeah? So they can help you before you bleed out and die. I can’t have Spider-Man die in front of me, that would be the opposite of cool and then the police would interrogate me and they’ll ask me why I never told them I knew where Peter Parker was, right? That’d be so bad—”

“No.”

“No what?”

Spidey’s head lolled slightly to the side. “No hospitals. I’m not going anywhere. I can’t—they’ll see—it’s a secret—I can’t trust them.”

Ned blinked at him. “Dude, I’m thinking that if you don’t let them do their thing, you’ll end up dying. Then it wouldn’t matter what they know or don’t know.”

For a second Spider-Man didn’t react, then he muttered, “Norman Osborn was Mr. X.”

“Mr. X?” It took him a second to remember. “Oh, Mr. X—the guy who’s helping you? Didn’t you just say he’s the—”

“Green Goblin.”

“So the one who killed Gwen…?”

Spidey let out a strangled sound as he wriggled a little, then got up on unsteady feet. Ned wanted to tell him to sit back down because he figured standing up when he was badly injured was not recommended, but the anger that radiated off of Spidey gave him pause and made him watch silently, his words lost deep in his throat.

Bringing his hand up, Spidey pulled his mask off his face in one fluid motion and crumpled the fabric in his hand as he started pacing back and forth. The only evidence that he was in pain was in the way his facial muscles would twitch a little from time to time into the beginning of a grimace before once more changing to form a frustrated scowl that didn’t seem to fit Peter’s face.

For a moment Ned had to force his mind not to freak out. He knew that Peter and Spider-Man were the same person. The fact that he’d seen Peter in the clothes he’d given Spidey kind of gave it away. And they were both aware of that, naturally. But it was one thing to know, and another thing to watch as Spider-Man pulled off his mask and turned back into the classmate Ned vaguely remembered going to class with in freshman year.

“God, I just… I want to kick myself,” said Peter. “I want to—I want to shake some sense into my past self, make him see that he could obviously not trust Norman Osborn. What was I thinking? Ned, he’s been trying to get me to work with him for months, ever since I first started wearing this stupid costume”—he waved the mask like a flag, a look of disgust on his face—“and I kept turning him down. I should have just stuck to it. I should’ve… I should’ve turned him down again. What was I thinking?”

Ned opened his mouth to speak, but Peter wasn’t done.

“No, you know what, I should’ve relied on more than just my spider-sense. Obviously that can’t be trusted. What kind of sixth sense for danger lets me feel comfortable around a monster like that? It should have been like a siren in my head the entire time I was alone with him, but noooooo, why would I be in danger while sharing the same space as the guy who’d murdered my girlfriend? That makes no sense, right? Right? That’s just so ridiculous, he's obviously a good guy that can be trusted. He’s in my corner, right? That’s what—that’s what he kept on telling me, at least. And, I mean, I could tell something was off but I literally had no one else and he was helping and…”

He faltered for a brief moment, his gaze glazing over a bit as he stared out at the view from their rooftop. Then his expression hardened. When Ned hesitantly turned to try and figure out what he was looking at, he found himself staring up at the distant but familiar tower with the glowing A at the top. Avengers Tower.

“And then Tony freaking Stark comes along and tells me Norman Osborn is bad news, and instead of listening to my instincts and gut feeling, I blame him of being biased and blind and trying to—to—I don’t even know. He hasn’t done anything to me since that first time all of the Avengers came after me. He saw me helping him out once and decided it was worth giving me a chance. Why didn’t I listen to him? He was right—he did know Norman Osborn longer. He knew how he worked, what his priorities were. What do I know? I’m a stupid, good-for-nothing teenager. I can’t even buy myself beer. My brain isn’t fully developed yet!

“I can’t—I just—how could I let him manipulate me that easily? I should have fought harder, I should have just… done something. I deal with scumbags every day, yet I let him walk all over me? What’s the point of having these powers if I can’t even protect myself? That’s so stupid!” He tugged at his curls and shook his head. “And that monster’s been trying to comfort me. D’you get that? Norman Osborn killing Gwen and then acting all sympathetic and understanding and—and—and saying her name like it’s not entirely his fault she’s gone!”

His pacing became faster, his U-turns sharper. It didn’t look like he could feel the pain from his injury anymore. His eyes were blazing with anger instead of twinkling with that warmth that Ned had seen in them last time. There was a smear of fresh blood on his cheek from his hand brushing against it. There were scrapes and bruises there too, but they didn’t look as serious as whatever it was in Peter’s stomach. And the guy didn’t seem to notice any of that, too wrapped up in his own head.

“What kind of person stabs you in the back like that? You would never face someone you’d fought and hurt with a smile on your face, right? I can’t even stomach the thought of doing something like that. I’ve been avoiding Captain Stacy for months because I can’t handle facing him after what’d happened to Gwen. And Norman Osborn just… he was such a sadist! How messed up do you have to be to try to break a person? Like, what kind of human being does that!

“You really can’t trust anyone. Every single person I turn to ends up either dead or trying to kill me. This is probably the only thing that man ever got right in his life—I can’t trust anyone.”

“You trusted me,” said Ned.

Peter froze.

A cold breeze made Ned shiver a little in his warm clothes. He expected Peter to react to the weather, mostly because he was wearing nothing more than a thin layer of spandex. But he wasn’t moving, like the cool air wasn’t registering in his brain at all. He barely even batted an eye. Ned watched him silently as he seemed to stare down at his hands, his breaths heavy and his shoulders slightly hunched. His skin was pale, his brows furrowed like he was deep in thought. The anger from a moment ago vanished, replaced by a sort of cautious wonder and curiosity.

The world didn’t stand still—Ned could hear the distant sound of people finally going back outside. The clouds kept on drifting above them, the sun’s last rays were cutting through the darkness of the approaching evening, accenting some of the strokes of blood in Peter’s hair and the fact that he was paler than Ned figured was healthy. Time kept on going, the clock kept ticking, the world kept turning.

It didn’t look like Peter was in sync with everything else, though.

Standing up slowly for fear any sharp movement might startle Peter, Ned carefully stepped closer to him and bit his lip. He reached out with his hand to put it on Peter’s shoulder, then changed his mind and let it fall back to his side. Peter’s expression twitched a bit, but that was the only sign Ned could see that the guy was aware of him coming closer.

“Look,” Ned said tentatively, “I can’t even begin to comprehend what you’ve been going through. Not just today but, like, over the last couple of years. It sounds like a lot and it’s obviously complicated. I… I’m still trying to wrap my head around you just being Spider-Man, honestly.”

Peter’s lips thinned a bit.

“And I—I get that you’re upset and hurt. It sounds like you have every right to feel this way, really. Finding all of this out must have been… a lot,” Ned continued, and Peter let out a rattling exhale. “But… but giving up on everyone because one person turned out to be a douchebag sounds like it might be the wrong conclusion to come to, you know? I mean, there are plenty of people out there who aren’t scum, right? Most people aren’t like—like him.”

Looking up, Peter met his gaze hesitantly. His eyes were glassy but no tears were trickling down. He was biting the inside of his cheek, as if to keep himself from saying something. The hand not wrapped around his stomach trembled, the mask still clutched between its fingers.

Ned swallowed and smiled at Peter—something small, but the most earnest he could muster up. “Sometimes we trust the wrong people. Sometimes we regret it. It—it happens. My mom always says the most important thing is to, like, learn to… to move past it; to learn from it, so you don’t make the same mistake twice. But… but shutting people out completely can’t be the answer. Humans are social creatures, right? We, like, need human contact. I can’t imagine how empty life would be without anyone you can or are willing to trust.”

“I don’t think—” Peter tried to say, his voice choking a little before he cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if I trust the wrong person again.”

Nodding, Ned tried to look as reassuring as possible while also completely panicking internally. He literally had no idea what he was doing, but if he was reading Peter correctly, it looked like so far he was doing all right in calming him down, at least just a bit—enough for now. He just had to make sure he didn’t mess it all up. Easy peasy.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it right this second, right?” he said with forced levity. “Just take this one step at a time. Like—er—start from taking care of this wound you have. I mean, it looks like it’s not actively bleeding anymore, but I’m pretty sure you still need to get that looked at. Like, ASAP.”

Peter’s head sluggishly tilted down as his gaze dropped to his stomach. When he moved his hand for a moment to inspect his wound, Ned found himself nearly throwing up as he got his first clear view of what was going on there—there was literally a hole in Peter’s abdomen, the only thing blocking it being his webs. It made him queasy and fight down the bile that was rising in his throat.

This is no time to lose my shit, he thought to himself desperately. I can freak out later!

“Yeah,” said Peter faintly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Cool, cool. So you’d better switch to these clothes”—Ned lifted the bundle of clothes he’d picked up earlier—“before I drive you to the hospital—”

“No hospitals,” Peter interrupted.

“Dude—”

“Mr. Stark.”

Ned blinked. “Huh?”

Looking at him with eyes that were losing focus at an excessive rate, Peter said, “Avengers Tower. Take me to Mr. Stark. I—he already knows. He’ll help.”

His poor brain was struggling to digest the situation. “Are you—are you sure?”

Peter looked down at the Iron Man faceplate printed on the hoodie Ned was still holding for him. His face was turning paler still, his eyes duller. But there was a firm set to his jaw and something deeper shining deep in his irises, dim but still present.

He visibly swallowed.

“No,” Peter admitted in a whisper. “But I’ve gotta give him a shot, right?”

✧ ✧ ✧

Tony thought he deserved some kind of appreciation for his ability to sit through this meeting without hurling something at Fury’s head or falling asleep. He at least deserved some kind of acknowledgement from the others, to show they were aware of how much effort he was putting into keeping his hands tapping on the table instead of tapping away at his phone—which would have been a much more beneficial activity, mind you.

The only thing his fellow teammates were offering him for all his efforts, though, were annoyed glares for the distracting noise he was making. Well, beggars can’t be choosers—if they wanted his attention, they’d have to tolerate what it took for Tony to try and keep it on them rather than literally anything else.

Once again they were all discussing the issue with Spider-Man. Fury was being put under more and more pressure to capture the vigilante and bring him in already. Which meant that he was pushing the Avengers to do something about this problem so that it’d be behind them all. It was all just business at this point—not even a worry-driven mission. They needed Spidey off the streets because the people at the top were pricks who couldn’t handle a little bit of change that wasn’t caused by them.

Fantastic.

“Stark, are you even listening?” demanded Fury. “You are the one who’s gotten closest to Spider-Man. Our best bet of getting our hands on him is through you. You need to pay attention to this instead of dreaming about the Caribbeans.”

“I was actually thinking of Hawaii,” said Tony.

Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And I believe I already told you, eye-patch—capturing Spidey is no longer on me. I think the guy should be left alone. He’s not a threat to this city or this country. He volunteered information about himself to us. Why should we still think of him as an enemy? No, I’m genuinely asking, so I can tell him next time I see him why you’re all after his ass.”

“It’s complicated,” Fury drawled out.

“Uncomplicate it.”

“Tony,” Rogers groaned in exasperation.

Turning to him, Tony said, “Excuse me, are you telling me you find nothing wrong when we’re tasked with attacking an innocent person? Has he done anything that would warrant this kind of hostility? It’s not like he’s out there, opening portals to space so an army of aliens could pass through. He’s stopping petty theft, gangs, rapists. Next thing we know we’ll be arresting the police captain for putting criminals behind bars.”

Leaning back in her seat, Romanoff said, “We don’t know his motives. That’s dangerous.”

“I told you what his motives are—he wants to help people because it’s the right thing to do.”

Barton snorted. “Yeah, because people are just that good.” He looked around with a smirk. “Looks like we’ve got a second Captain America on our hands, ladies and gentlemen.”

Rogers threw him a dirty look.

“You think he lied to me?” said Tony dryly.

The archer snorted. “That should have been a given. The guy just comes to you with the information you need that conveniently makes him look like a saint? Please, he should have at least come up with a more believable story. Doing good for the sake of doing good is rare, it’s unrealistic. He’s a terrible liar.”

Tony wanted to counteract that with the story the kid had told him about his uncle and how that had impacted him and made him look at his powers differently. He wanted to open his mouth and blurt it all out, see how they’d all react to Spidey’s motives then. But this wasn’t his story to tell, and he figured sharing such a thing would make them actually look up someone who fit such a description—a witness of a family member’s death. Then they might actually find the kid, and that was something Tony wasn’t willing to risk.

Call him impulsive all you’d like, but Tony knew when to shut up. The kid’s identity was important to him. If he didn’t want his secret to be revealed, Tony wouldn’t do it behind his back. Especially not when the people who were trying to figure it all out were the same ones the kid was scared of; the ones who were after his blood—figuratively and literally.

“Nothing to add?” asked Sam tauntingly.

“No, no. Just trying to remember how to say ‘you’re all morons’ in Indonesian.”

Rogers put a calming hand on Wilson’s shoulder before the guy could retort. “Can we please focus?”

“Please,” said Fury, his one eye darting between them all, daring them to continue this discussion when they were in the middle of their meeting.

Apparently FRIDAY decided that was the perfect moment to interrupt. Tony couldn’t be prouder of her timing.

“Boss, you have visitors,” she said in her Irish lilt.

Their heads snapped up almost in perfect synchronization. Tony had to resist the urge to laugh, instead mulling over FRIDAY’s words and turning them over in his head. He could feel a crease forming between his brows.

“Tell ‘em I’m busy,” he said flippantly.

“They’re already on their way up.”

“You let someone come up here?” said Rhodey in surprise. “It’s a personal floor.”

Tony honestly couldn’t agree more.

“Who are they, FRI?” he asked, his fingers drumming more insistently on the table as he tried to recall if there was anything Pepper had said about another meeting with someone that day. For all he could recall, the Avengers were—thankfully—his only obligation of the day, for a change.

“One individual is unknown. He doesn’t appear to be in my database.”

Barton glanced at Tony skeptically. “Oh, great. Your AI is broken.”

Frowning, Tony ignored him. “And other than him?”

FRIDAY took a second, like she was trying to come up with an appropriate answer. It only made Tony’s hand itch toward the watch where his nanotech gauntlet was stored. If there were intruders in the building, he’d like to be ready before they reached this floor. Of course, they’d have to face a bunch of skilled warriors which would make them incredibly foolish, but—

“It’s Peter Parker, boss,” FRIDAY said at last.

Now her hesitation made sense—she usually referred to him as Spider-Man with Tony, but was smart enough to know better than to bring him up with the Avengers around. Good girl, he was even prouder than before.

The rest of the Avengers hummed in confusion at the name, but Tony’s eyes widened in recognition and he stumbled to his feet, heart pounding in his chest. This was bad. So, so bad. The kid couldn’t come up here! The Avengers were literally sitting right there, all warily waiting to see what was happening and whether or not there was any trouble. They were discussing attacking Spider-Man. This was the last place the kid should have gone to.

“FRIDAY, stop the eleva—” Tony began to say just as the ding of the elevator echoed around the room.

The doors opened to reveal the kid standing there, mostly slumped against a slightly lower and—er—wider kid who looked very stressed and panicked as he struggled to hold Peter upright and prevent him from face-planting.

“What the hell?” muttered Wilson.

“Is this ‘bring your kids to work’ day? Did I miss the memo?” asked Barton.

Tony froze halfway between the table and the elevator. “Shit.”

The good news was that the kid wasn’t wearing his Spider-Man unitard. The bad news was that he was standing, slumped and clearly drained, in front of all the Avengers, leaning against someone his age that lifted his head, noticed the people in the room and instantly gasped in awe, and there was a dark patch on the black Iron Man hoodie he was wearing that made something worried and slightly alarmed rear its head in Tony’s stomach.

“I can’t believe I’m in the same room as the Avengers,” muttered the shorter kid, a starstruck expression on his face.

At the mention of the team, though, Peter’s eyes snapped up and started flitting between the people present, a dull glint of fear sparkling in his eyes. He seemed to try to push himself a little off his friend and stumble deeper into the elevator, but then a pained whimper escaped his lips and he ended up falling against his friend once more with a grunt.

“Tony? You know these kids?” said Romanoff.

“Stark, we’re in the middle of a—” Fury tried to speak.

Wilson frowned in concern. “Hey, is that kid bleeding?”

The kid Tony didn’t know glanced at Peter, then shook his head. “Oh, no, Mr. Falcon. He stopped bleeding earlier. It’s just that the wound opened again when he changed clothes and then it stopped again—I mean, what? Bleeding? Who?”

“Smooth, kid,” said Barton.

“Tony, who are these kids?” Rogers demanded.

Tony ignored them as he finally felt like he could move again. With his limbs thawed, he stepped closer to the open elevator, eyes locked on Peter. The kid was looking off into space, a blank, vacant look in his eyes. His moment of panic seemed to have passed without leaving any sort of impression on him. He almost looked like he wasn’t aware of where he was and who was with him anymore.

It was frankly more alarming than a lot of the things Tony’s been through in his life. And he’s been through some tough shit.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “You look like death warmed over.”

Nothing. Peter was still staring ahead bleakly.

“Tough crowd,” Tony muttered, then focused on the other kid. “You—explain.”

Blinking at him owlishly, the kid was silent for a moment, then blurted out, “The Black Widow is pointing a gun at me—that’s so cool! Also, my mom would kill me if I was murdered today.”

Tony glanced back and saw that Romanoff was, indeed, eyeing the two teens dangerously while aiming one of her guns at them.

“For God’s sake, point that somewhere else! They’re kids, not a national threat. Jesus, it’s like I’m working with a bunch of trigger-happy morons. All right, kid, talk. What’s wrong with your buddy over there? Was he hurt? What happened?”

“Tony Stark is talking to me,” whispered the kid, then he snapped out of it and quickly said in one breath, “I swear he talked to me before. Like, when I found him he kept on rambling, right? But then we got in the car and he just sort of zoned out and he hasn’t said a word since. I don’t know what to do. But he wanted to come here and the ceiling lady told me to get in the elevator, so I did.”

Rhodey let out a whistle. “Some lungs you’ve got there, kid.”

“My brain hurts,” whined Wilson as he rubbed his temples.

Tony felt like joining him, honestly. There were two of them now—like one rambling teenager wasn’t enough for him to deal with. And how in the world was he supposed to focus on these kids when the people behind him were constantly interrupting—or, in Natasha’s case, threatening them with murder?

“Okay, all right,” he said, looking between the kid’s overwhelmed expression and Peter’s catatonically blank one. “Where’d the blood come from? There’s some in his hair—did his head get hurt? What happened? Fill me in, come on.”

The kid shifted his weight a little while attempting not to drop Peter. “The fight,” he said hesitantly with a cautious look toward the others.

“What fight?”

“Tell me kids don’t beat each other that much at school these days,” groaned Barton. “That’s the last thing I needed to know.”

FRIDAY chimed in then. “Boss, there’s footage of a fight between the individual known as Green Goblin and Spider-Man online.”

Tony’s eyes widened in alarm and he cursed. The kid stared at him with his mouth agape, like he couldn’t believe Tony Stark just said a bad word in front of him. It would have been amusing had Tony not been busy imagining such a fight between Peter and the lunatic who’d murdered that girlfriend of his. That couldn’t have been pretty.

“The Green Goblin?” questioned Rogers. “I thought he was no longer around.”

“Spider-Man seemed to have left him a message,” said FRIDAY, and a hologram came to life near the wall opposite the elevator, showing a mass of webs woven together between two random buildings, creating the clear words: Can the Green Goblin come out to play? Tony wanted to slap the kid for doing something this reckless, but one look at him reminded him that Peter was already worse for wear.

“Was he injured during the fight?” he asked, and he wasn’t sure whether he was talking to the kid or FRIDAY.

“I think so,” the teenager said hesitantly.

FRIDAY added, “The Green Goblin stabbed him from behind.”

“Are we talking about Spidey or the adolescent kid?” someone said.

“Cheap shot, stabbing in the back,” another one grumbled, but Tony couldn’t care less about the others right now.

His eyes traced Peter’s figure. He looked fatigued, exhausted. He was using his friend as a crutch, like he couldn’t carry his own weight any longer. There was dry blood smeared on his face that seemed to have been rubbed there accidentally. His face was ghostly pale, his eyes hollow. And the dark patch on his hoodie was most likely the blood that must have oozed from his injury earlier—the kid said it’d stopped actively bleeding, right?

“FRIDAY, call in Dr. Cho. Tell her she gets overtime,” he said decisively, then focused on Peter. “Hey, bud, we’re getting you to the hospital wing of the building, okay? The medbay’s gonna have an excellent doctor who’d look over you and make sure you don’t die, yeah? Sounds good? Come on, you have to say something. Kid, is he in shock? FRI?”

“Other than the stab wound and a few minor injuries I can’t detect anything else, boss.”

Peter’s little friend just shrugged helplessly.

Tony’s eye twitched but he pushed through and tried to smile at Peter reassuringly. “Fine. I don’t need to know. Let’s just take care of you, yeah? It’s gonna be all right. You’ll be fine. We’ll deal with this whole mess easily, I mean it can’t be worse than an AI apocalypse, can it?”

“Don’t even start on that,” said Fury lowly, a note of weariness in his voice.

But Tony ignored him as his chest fluttered with hope at the sight of Peter’s eyes blinking twice and focusing on him for once, the dim light in them brightening a bit as he seemed to fight to pull himself back into his body.

Tony’s smile felt less forced as he said, “Yes, see? It’ll be fine. Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it, and right now we’ll just make sure you won’t collapse from blood loss or pain or—God only knows what you’re going through, kid. You look like hell, not gonna lie. But we’ll help you.”

“We will?”

“Of course we will.”

“What are you giving me this look for? We don’t know the kid!”

“He’s hurt—that’s all we need to know.”

“Send him to a hospital, jeez…”

Peter blinked again, a strange sheen to his eyes. His lips parted a little as he pushed himself slightly off his friend, like he wanted to say something. But no words came to him and instead he just kept on looking at Tony with a look that became more and more intense. It gave the man the feeling the kid was assessing him even in his half-conscious state, waiting to hear what he had to say and decide whether he should actually listen or not.

If he messed this up now, Tony would never forgive himself.

“Hear that?” Tony said, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder at the chatting teammates. “You’re in good hands, yeah? None of us are gonna let anything happen to you, got it? It’s all right. You’re safe. I’ll help you with everything you need. Actually, you can rest, I’ll do the heavy lifting for now—”

He was cut off by the distinct sound of Peter letting out a sound between a gasp and a sob. His eyes welled up as if on cue and tears slipped out and down his cheeks as his face crumpled with grief and misery that should never have touched someone this young. And then he detached himself from the other kid and stumbled toward Tony, running into him and knocking the air straight out of his lungs as he struggled to keep himself from keeling over the with spiderling clinging to him.

Shock coursed through his veins, making his brain stutter to a temporary halt as he tried to comprehend the fact that the kid had his arms wrapped around him, his palms pressed to his back in a suspicious way that made Tony believe he was sticking to his shirt. The kid had his face tucked against Tony’s shoulder as heart-wrenching sobs tore out of his throat, filling the stunned room.

For a second Tony couldn’t react, too caught off guard. And then his brain rebooted itself and he brought his arms up to embrace the kid right back and maybe try and hold some of his weight because it felt like he might just slide down to the floor if he was forced to hold himself without any help for much longer. He did have to readjust when his contact made the kid flinch and let out a pained gasp—apparently he’d aggravated the injury.

He felt so small and brittle like that, Tony noted gloomily. Too small to deal with everything the world was pushing down on him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” said Tony, the rest of the world falling away around him as he focused on the sobbing kid in his arms. “I’ve got you.”

Chapter Text

Peter was hungry and tired. Those were the first two things he registered once he woke up. His stomach was growling desperately, yearning to be filled—at least a bit—and there was a painful pressure behind his head from how weary he felt, his limbs feeling more like they were weighing him down than anything else—just lumps he had to somehow convince to move without any energy left in him.

Opening his eyes proved to be a terrible idea since he was instantly blinded by the light that seemed to attack his pupils. So he shut them back up and instead focused on his other senses, pushing past his discomfort.

He was lying in a bed, he could feel. The sheets were comfy and warm and smooth. He wasn’t used to that. The bed at Oscorp always felt uncomfortable. The blanket would always wrap around him, making him feel like it was attempting to choke him in his sleep. This was different. Something about it all felt like he could breathe easily, no worries necessary.

His nose could detect the scent of disinfectants and lemon-scented cleaning spray. It kind of reminded him of a hospital, although he hasn’t been to one in a while, so maybe he was gravely mistaken. He couldn’t tell, not that it mattered all that much. Well, it would have been more alarming had his spider-sense not remained perfectly silent, letting him know he was safe—at least for the time being.

And then there was his sense of hearing. He could tell that the room he was in was empty apart from him, and there was a machine whirring and beeping next to him—along with a few others that made slightly less noise. But there were voices coming from further away—some closer than others. This wasn’t new to him—living in New York with heightened senses meant that he could never get a moment of silence—but some of them still drew his attention.

“—just a kid! You should have told us—”

“Told you what? That you’re chasing the wrong guy here? Yes, right, I should’ve—oh, wait, I did tell you that. Repeatedly. And then got shot down,” said a familiar voice.

Tony Stark, Peter’s brain supplied sluggishly. The tension in his body lessened a tad.

“This is serious, Tony,” said a male voice. “You’ve known who he was and you kept it a secret! What if we’re not okay with this? This all could have been prevented had you simply told us the truth from the get-go.”

“I did. From the moment I knew this was a bad idea, I told you.”

A female voice replied next. “You only gave us the basics, but there was no real reason behind it. We were looking for information. Naturally, you telling us your opinion wasn’t enough. But had we known a few more details—”

“No, no, this is where you’re wrong. You know what you should have done?” said Mr. Stark’s voice. “Listened to me. I thought we’ve already established the fact that I’m a genius. If I say something, you should at least figure there’s a good reason behind it. The questioning can come later, first obey.”

“You’re not the one giving the shots here, Stark,” a low voice said.

“No, right, that’s your job, but your intel couldn’t even figure out what age your target was. What would have happened had we captured him? Had he been injured badly by the lot of us and was then revealed, huh? Would you have gotten more than a slap on the wrist for endangering the life of an innocent kid? I don’t think so, eye-patch.”

A new voice then chimed in. “I have a question—what were you thinking, discovering Spider-Man’s just some kid and then still letting him do this? This stuff is dangerous, he’s risking his life. You should have stopped him the moment you found out who was behind that mask!”

Peter managed a small frown.

He could hear Mr. Stark’s scoff. “Oh, I’m sorry—did I ever give the impression that I was the kid’s babysitter? I’m not his guardian angel. He doesn’t listen to me. He does whatever he wants and occasionally steals my stuff. We have a very basic understanding here, nothing more. Since when is it my job to tell him he shouldn’t be Spider-Man?”

“Since you found out,” the woman said. “Seeing as you’re the adult in this situation.”

“Doubt he would have listened,” Mr. Stark shot back. “He’s his own person, has been by himself for a while now. He has no reason to trust me or even hear me out. Besides, how am I supposed to stop an enhanced teenager from doing as he pleases? He’s stronger than Capsicle over there—you think I have a shot again him? Think again, Nat.”

“Then I’ll talk to him,” a deep voice said.

“I just told you he’s stronger than you. Is nobody listening to me anymore?”

One of the men snorted. “We just saw him, Stark. I don’t think the kid’s much of a threat. He’s barely half Steve’s size. Not saying he ain’t strong, but there’s no way he can take on Captain America.”

Slightly offended, Peter huffed, then grimaced at the dull ache it elicited in his stomach. Losing track of the conversation going on somewhere else between who he was quickly realizing were the Avengers, Peter slowly opened his eyes again and fought to keep them that way despite the bright light in the room. He peered down at his stomach and found his shirt had been pulled off his body, replaced by bandages that covered his middle section.

His head dropped back down as he closed his eyes once more and groaned. Right. The fight with Green Goblin, nearly killing him, that stab to the back. Everything sort of felt like a haze after that, but he was pretty sure he could remember a conversation with Ned, then driving to Avengers Tower—where he currently was, most likely.

“FRIDAY?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yes, Peter?” the Irish voice chimed in, grating against his ears.

He whimpered and bit the inside of his cheek. “Can you—can you dim the lights somehow? And speak a little quieter?”

There was a pause, then the light he could see behind his eyelids dimmed at once and the beeping monitor beside him quieted down, as well. Peter felt like he could breathe more easily now that his senses weren’t being attacked and he mumbled a thank you to FRIDAY as he opened his eyes and squinted at his surroundings.

It looked like a hospital room, but he knew better than to actually believe they’d taken him to a regular hospital. If he focused hard enough he could detect voices coming from further below him, chatting about their work and their lives. It was a work place. Yes, this was certainly still Avengers Tower, and the people he could hear were SI employees.

“Am I supposed to pay for this treatment?” he couldn’t help but ask.

The AI sounded amused when she replied. “Of course not, Peter. I shall alert Mr. Stark of your earlier than anticipated wakefulness.”

“Earlier than anticipated?”

“Dr. Cho believed you would stay under for a few more hours with the help of the sedatives she’d given you.”

Peter’s gaze dropped down to an IV that was attached to the crook of his elbow. He scrunched his nose up at it but didn’t try to pull it out. Maybe a while ago he would have fought his way out of the building, trying to get away from the people inside it, especially the Avengers. But right now he didn’t have enough energy for that, not to mention how he couldn’t bring himself to run away from Mr. Stark again.

Frankly, he was just so tired of running. Being on the run for almost two years would do that to a person, he thought bitterly. But so far running away hasn’t done him any good. As far as he could tell, the only good thing that’d come his way was meeting Ned, and that only became positive once Peter stopped, lingered behind and heard the guy out.

Then again, he’d let himself believe he could stay close to Norman Osborn and look how well that turned out…

He sat up a little on the cot, his back leaning against the headboard. When he slowly tested his limbs one by one he found that he could physically get up and leave. He would most likely be able to crawl out the window—after breaking it—and just vanish before anyone could walk in. But the more he thought about it, the less appealing the idea became.

This was probably the warmest he’s been in so long. Even at Oscorp the room Norman Osborn had given him was cold like the rest of the building. Here, though, Peter had a blanket covering him and the air conditioning was doing an excellent job of making sure the room’s temperature was optimal—not too cold, not too hot. Just perfect, as far as he was concerned.

His gaze slid to the side. There was a nightstand next to him with his phone resting on top of the pile of clothes he’d worn before—all of them having been cleaned and folded neatly. He blinked at them in astonishment, then shook his head and picked up the cracked cellphone before activating the screen.

To his surprise there was a message from Ned waiting for him, containing an apology from the guy for having left him alone. Apparently his mom was distressed after the fight at Queens and she wanted Ned to come back home immediately. Peter was just glad to know his friend was okay and not dragged away by SHIELD members who wanted to interrogate him or something.

He sent a quick reply to let Ned know he was all right, then put his phone back on the nightstand and instead unfolded his clothes and squirmed into them while being mindful of the healing wound he was recovering from. When he pressed a hand over the bandages he could still feel there was a hole there, but instead of going straight through, Peter could instinctually feel that it was closing up from the inside out. He just needed to give it a bit more time. Preferably some food, too.

The entire time he was getting dressed, he could hear the Avengers’ discussion. He was pretty sure they started out on a different floor than the one he was on, but their voices grew louder and louder until he was convinced they were on their way to see him—especially after FRIDAY’s comment on him being awake.

So when there was a knock on the door a second before Mr. Stark promptly opened it and stepped into the room without waiting for permission, Peter was less than surprised, instead just watching from his perch on the cot as the man briskly told the other Avengers to get lost, then slammed the door in their faces.

Turning around to face Peter, Mr. Stark sniffed and said, “Well, you’re up early.”

“I did tell you my metabolism was faster than Cap’s,” said Peter with a shrug. “You should have known all your drugs wouldn’t be enough to keep me down.”

Mr. Stark looked him up and down, his eyes narrowing a bit. “You going somewhere, kid?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. But if that SHIELD director is gonna burst in here and try to question me, I might just bust out through a window. And I regret to say this, but I wouldn’t be able to pay you back for it. That’ll be on you.”

“I’m sorry, you broke it, you bought it. That’s the policy here. No, I’m just kidding. I don’t mind paying for one window. You may have heard this but I do make quite a bit of money for a living. Keeping it a secret hasn’t been one of my successes.”

Peter’s lips twitched upward. “I don’t think you’re that good with secrets in general.”

“I take offence to that.”

“You announced to the entire world you were Iron Man instead of playing it close to the vest,” said Peter flatly.

“That was—I was emotional. I was kidnapped—sure you’ve at least heard about it. It was a whole thing, spent a few months in a cave. Some might say it’s traumatizing. Then I got out and had to fight my business partner. I—I’d say that’s partially why I did what I did.”

“Or you’re just a glory hound.”

Mr. Stark huffed in amusement and stepped further into the room. He sent a look toward the green chairs in the corner of the room, then swiftly ignored them and instead hopped onto the space on the bed next to Peter. For a split moment Peter tensed at the close proximity, then he relaxed and turned to look at the man curiously.

“I did try to prevent all of them from finding out, by the way. Thought I’d… let you know,” said Mr. Stark with a vague gesture toward the door. “But there’s only so much I can do when you show up here with a gaping wound in your stomach. And your friend babbling something about a fight between Spidey and that Green Goblin guy wasn’t helpful, either.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Peter was slightly mortified, not sure what to expect next. He had no idea what conclusion the Avengers would come to. He could still hear them arguing outside, with one of them whining about how he was trying to listen in on Mr. Stark and Peter’s conversation to no avail. Some of them sounded pissed off. Some sounded concerned.

He felt so lost.

Mr. Stark looked at him skeptically. “…right, let’s say I believe you.”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. When have I ever lied to you?”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Kasady.”

Peter did chuckle this time around, wincing slightly at the way the muscles in his stomach pulled at that. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to draw Mr. Stark’s attention to Peter’s abdomen. He couldn’t see the bandages with the shirt and hoodie Peter was wearing again, but he had a kind of haunted look on his face, like he’d seen it before and the image wasn’t leaving him.

“Okay, so FRIDAY showed up some of the footage from that fight you just had,” said Mr. Stark while watching Peter attentively. “I’ll have you know, we all got very freaked out. We didn’t expect to see Spider-Man going all out on anyone today, it was kind of… surreal. Will it make you happy to know that Wilson is now terrified of you? Because he is.”

Looking down at his hands, Peter tugged at the sleeves of the clean Iron Man hoodie and pursed his lips. It wasn’t hard to recall flashes from the fight. Although the most prominent thing he could remember was the anger that had driven him through it all. And then that brief moment of clarity that had made him change his mind a second before it was too late.

His hands began to shake.

Mr. Stark frowned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Peter hesitated. “I nearly killed him,” he whispered.

“Yeah, we saw that.”

“It was… I mean, I wanted to do it. I wanted him dead. I kind of still do. He deserves to die after everything he’s done, doesn’t he?”

Mr. Stark hummed.

“I just…” Peter sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think I can ever kill a person like that. Not without regretting it. What does it mean—me being unable to kill the man who’d murdered Gwen? What does that make me?”

“I’m not gonna lie, kid, I can’t really talk to you about the morality of killing people. I’ve kind of already done that. Can’t go back and change the past,” said Mr. Stark. His hand hovered over Peter’s shoulder, like he wasn’t sure whether to put it there or not. “But I’m pretty sure not killing people isn’t a bad thing. It’s a—what—a principle, right? Principles aren’t bad. Some people don’t eat meat, some people choose not to kill. It’s a choice, like any other, isn’t it? You just need to figure out where you stand. And it seems like you have.”

Peter’s shoulders curled inwardly. “But he’s still out there because of that. And now he won’t return to Oscorp because he obviously knows I’m gonna look for him there first thing—”

“Oscorp?” the man cut him off. “What are you—what’s Oscorp got to do with any of this?”

For a second Peter’s mind went blank as he stared at Mr. Stark, not comprehending how he wasn’t aware of the earth-shattering news that had caused Peter to taunt the Green Goblin back outside in the first place. And then he realized he hadn’t actually told him or the Avengers anything about Norman Osborn and the Goblin being one and the same, which would explain the confusion.

“It’s Norman Osborn,” he rasped out.

“Who?”

“The Green Goblin,” Peter bit out bitterly. “The Green Goblin is Norman Osborn.”

For a moment Mr. Stark was quiet, letting the words process. Then he muttered an astounded, “Well, shit.”

Neither one of them said anything for a little bit after that. Peter wasn’t sure what Mr. Stark was thinking about, but he had a very troubled look on his face as he stared at the wall opposite them with a furrow between his eyebrows. He didn’t even seem to feel Peter’s eyes watching him intently from the side, studying his reaction.

A part of him wanted to take the words back and go back to joking around about stuff that didn’t seem to be as important. But a bigger part in his brain yearned to hear what Mr. Stark thought, what he’d say next. This issue with Norman Osborn wasn’t over, after all. The man was still out there, free as a bird. They had to stop him before somebody ended up dead again. And Peter just… he kind of wished the solution would come from someone else.

He was just so tired.

Mr. Stark’s hand landed on his shoulder after a second longer, squeezing just a tad in a show of support. Peter found himself leaning into the touch without meaning to, his head tilting to the side like it was about to drop onto the man’s hand. But he kept himself from going too far, instead still watching Mr. Stark as emotions flitted across his face in a rush.

“How’d you find out? Was it on that USB drive?” the man asked eventually.

“It—yeah. There was a file there—I hacked into it—”

“You? Hacked something? I’m shocked.”

Peter ignored him. “—and found this video… he took off his mask, it was kind of self-explanatory.”

Mr. Stark frowned. “Well, if you give me the drive I can get the right people to go arrest him. And if—”

“It won’t work, he’s too strong.”

“—if that doesn’t work,” continued Mr. Stark, “the team will be there anyway. But evidence is always good either way. We just need to show it to the world and he wouldn’t be able to hide in plain sight any longer.”

Peter took a second, then nodded. “Okay. Right, yeah, it was in my pants’ pocket earlier.” He reached inside and came out empty-handed. “Did someone empty my pockets before these jeans were put in the wash?”

“I don’t think there was anything inside, kid.”

Frowning to himself, Peter tried to remember what he’d done with the drive. Mr. Stark had given it to him at Oscorp after their conversation with Norman Osborn, then Peter had made it to the library, where that girl had let him use her laptop. He still needed to pay her back for that. He’d watched the video on the laptop, then freaked out and—

“Damn it!” he gasped, eyes growing wide. “Oh, shoot, shoot, shoot. I totally forgot about that! Mr. Stark, I think I left the drive inserted in this computer I broke!”

The man looked at him oddly. “You broke a computer?”

“That’s not what you should be focusing on!”

“Right, right. Yes. The drive. Well, we can get a hold of it later. FRIDAY, you got eyes on either Norman Osborn or the Goblin?”

FRIDAY’s reply came after a few seconds. “Sorry, boss. I can’t detect either individual.”

Peter grunted as he pulled himself to his feet. “He’ll come for me. If I’d just get back out there, he’ll come back. He wants my blood, he wants to kill me. He has no reason to show himself again until he can see me. I’m his target right now. I’ve just gotta go out there and make myself seen, then—”

“Not happening. You’re still healing. You’re not fighting him again,” said Mr. Stark sharply.

Peter gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

From outside the door he could hear someone saying, “I think they’re talking about constipated poodles.”

“Why would they be—”

“I don’t know!”

Obviously incapable of hearing the voices talking outside, Mr. Stark sternly said, “Kid, I told you—we saw your last fight. Even if you weren’t hurt, letting you face him again sounds like a horrible idea. What if next time you’re face to face with him you won’t stop, huh? What if you’ll lose it again and we won’t be able to pull you back before you cross a line you’re not ready to cross? So no, you’re not going out there.”

“He—he’s been messing up my life!” Peter protested. “You can’t bench me! You wouldn’t have even cared about the Goblin’s existence had it not been for me! I don’t care if you want to help in this fight, but I’m not letting you deal with him without helping out somehow. This is my fight. He’s the reason I’m like this! He—he killed someone I cared about. I’m not going to go back to sleep while you guys are out there handling the situation! Forget it!”

He sent a look toward the door and his chest squeezed. If he went out through it, the Avengers would be there to either stop him and side with Mr. Stark, or they’d literally arrest him. Already cringing internally, he whirled his head around and looked at the window overlooking the city instead. Apparently he was about to break a window, anyway.

“Okay, all right, let’s not do anything rush!” called Mr. Stark when Peter took a step toward the window. He held his hands up and widened his eyes at Peter. “Look, I get it, it’s your problem, you wanna clean up all the mess. I can relate, naturally. And we both know I can’t do much to stop you, especially when I wouldn’t be surprised if you could crunch my suits with your bare hands like they’re made of paper mâché.”

Peter stopped and looked at him pensively.

“Point is, Normie isn’t out there right now. Well, he’s not doing anything unspeakable at the moment, at least,” he amended when Peter’s lips thinned. “We have some time to tinker with ideas, figure out what we should do, right? You have some time to heal before you face him again, kid. Give your body some time before throwing it back into the line of fire, okay? Eat something, breathe for a little while. Then we’ll—we’ll figure something out. A plan that doesn’t push you to the sidelines, okay? We’ll workshop it until we’re both satisfied. What d’you say? Sounds good?”

He really was tired. And hungry—incredibly hungry. Considering his body needed food to heal, it wasn’t all that surprising. He had a pretty nasty injury to take care of.

Peter still hesitated.

“If the Goblin shows up again before then—” he started.

“We’ll improvise. I’m good at that. Bet you are, too,” said Mr. Stark.

Peter stared at him for a long moment, searching his eyes to see if there was any hint that would let him know Mr. Stark was planning something Peter wasn’t aware of. When he saw nothing but sincerity, he let his shoulders sag down a bit.

“Can we order pizza?” he asked.

The man snorted but told FRIDAY to get one all the same.

✧ ✧ ✧

This time Peter let the Green Goblin come to his perch.

He’s been spending the past hour just sitting on top of the Oscorp building, his legs swaying over the edge and his fist clenched. He could feel the blood pumping in his ears, but he tried to ignore it the best he could. Despite wearing his Spider-Man suit, he also had the Iron Man hoodie on to keep himself slightly warmer in this cold weather. It had been Mr. Stark’s request and Peter found he didn’t find a reason to object to it.

In his ear he could hear Mr. Stark’s voice telling him to keep calm, that everything was going to be okay. He kept on saying that every now and then. Apparently Peter’s anxiety was visible even through the mask he was wearing. He probably should have been annoyed with the quiet voice that kept on insisting everything would be fine without any way of knowing that for sure, but Mr. Stark’s voice actually made him feel slightly more grounded and less likely to snap at the Goblin at first sight.

And then he noticed the figure flying toward him, just barely visible against the slowly brightening sky. Looked like he’d either fixed his glider or got a new one. This time the Goblin wasn’t cackling, but Peter could still hear the echoes of the chilling sound and he had to fight the urge to spring to his feet and kick the guy off his glider again. Instead he took in a deep breath and remained seated, trying to act like nothing was wrong—like the Green Goblin’s mere presence wasn’t making his body vibrate with anger.

Goblin’s suit was still bloodied and slightly torn up in places. Peter felt a small sense of vindication at the sight of it, although his own suit was just as soaked with blood if not more so. And there was the hole in the middle of it that Peter hasn’t fixed yet. Most of it was hidden underneath his hoodie, but he was aware of it. In a way, they matched. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

“You got this, kid,” Mr. Stark’s voice said firmly through the earpiece.

He straightened up a bit, bracing himself for what was coming.

“I have to admit, I’m conflicted,” was the Goblin’s greeting as he ended up hovering in front of Peter. “I was hoping you’d bleed out and die so I could collect your body with ease, but I suppose your healing factor saved you. I’m fascinated by how quick your metabolism seems to be, Peter. It really is quite an advantage you have there, huh?”

The sound of his name coming out of the Goblin’s mouth made an unpleasant chill crawl down Peter’s spine as he steeled himself. No shuddering, no showing weakness in front of this monster. Peter wasn’t going to do that again. He clenched his fist tighter.

“Yeah,” he said with fake cheer, “I guess it really is a nifty trick, isn’t it?”

“And who do you have to thank for that?”

Peter pretended to ponder the question. “Um… I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure I recall a spider biting me? And, you know, nearly killing me? Something about it changing my entire DNA, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera… are you talking about that? That thing my family should definitely have sued your company for? You know, ‘cause it had endangered my life?”

The Goblin sneered at him. “You ungrateful pest. Do you realize how many people in the world would pay anything to have the kind of power you possess? Do you realize how grand a gift was bestowed on you the moment that spider had bitten you? You now have the power of a god, yet you treat it like an old rag that should be tossed aside.”

“Oh, right, you’re totally right,” said Peter. “I should be happy that spider bit me. Because obviously we all knew it would work out fine and wouldn’t kill me even though all the test subjects before me ended up dropping dead from the infusion of the spider DNA. Yes, obviously I should jump off rooftops and celebrate this great opportunity. How could I have been so foolish.”

“It really is unfortunate that the one person who doesn’t even seem to appreciate this gift was the one to receive it,” observed the Goblin testily. “Oh, well! I’m here to fix that.”

Peter didn’t need his spider-sense to buzz warningly—he could see the Goblin packing up a punch with his eyes, thank you. Before it could get anywhere near him, he jumped back and toward the center of the roof, landing in a crouch on the floor and watching the Green Goblin coldly from behind his lenses.

“I don’t get it still,” he said, trying to go for interested rather than furious. “Why did you kill Gwen? What was the point? What, isolating me even more felt like the correct way to go about it? You really just figured if I’d ever snap, it’d be after watching her die? You were that desperate to see if I could kill a person? You could have asked what my morals were instead, you know.”

The Goblin started to circle him with his glider, letting out a small cackle. “What’s the fun in that?”

Peter’s hand itched to reach out and pull the vermin off his glider. Maybe so he could drop him off the top of the building and see what happens to his body then. Would it end up the same as Gwen’s? Would the Goblin somehow walk it off? It was a pretty tall building—it was hard to tell.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Mr. Stark’s voice said soothingly, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. “Peter, he’s trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t let him win, all right, kid? You can do this. Just breathe.”

In and out. Peter closed his eyes for a moment, then coolly focused on the Goblin again.

A laser beam was shot his way and Peter deflected lithely, jumping way up in the air and flipping over Goblin. He clenched his second hand into a fist and punched the man as he went, then landed back on the roof. When he looked up he couldn’t help the brief second of glee he felt at the sight of the Goblin rubbing the side of his masked face, glaring at Peter from behind his mask.

“No,” said the man darkly. “I didn’t kill her just to watch what would happen. My main motivation was to finally get you to come to me. I kept on offering you my assistance, and you kept on refusing. I didn’t understand why. Most people would’ve immediately accepted an influential man’s support. Yet you kept on stubbornly turning me down. It was frustrating, maddening. I needed a way in and I couldn’t figure out what would help with that.

“And then your aunt died. I heard about it and thought to myself—well, now the child won’t have anyone to take care of him. He’s going to have to say yes. He won’t have any other choice. But you still refused.”

“I’m smart like that,” Peter bit out.

The Goblin snarled. “You still refused, but you were fractured. Your will was broken, weaker than before. I felt like if I pressured you in just the right way, I’d have you. All I needed was to make sure you were genuinely, truly alone. And the only tether you still had to the rest of the world then was that silly girl. So I had to dispose of her so I could get on with my plans. There really wasn’t anything personal about it. No malice. It was just a calculative conclusion. You’re smart enough to understand those, aren’t you?”

Peter stared at him. His nails were digging into his skin as he held himself back from attacking him again. His mind was struggling to comprehend how this man can just stand there and talk about killing Gwen like it was nothing major, just something that had to be done. How could anyone be this ruthless and heartless? It didn’t make sense, didn’t seem to compute in his head.

And worse—it sounded like the Goblin expected Peter to understand this logic. Like he thought Peter would hear this and go: Oh, well, that makes perfect sense. How can I help? He knew Norman Osborn never did seem to get Peter’s will to stop bad things from happening and protecting others, but for him to actually expect Peter to be okay with killing someone for the sake of succeeding at something—that was a whole new level of ignorance.

“Wow,” he said after a moment, disgust lacing his words. “You have some serious issues to work through. Here, let’s make a deal. You agree to work on yourself without tossing any more people off high places, and I won’t hurt you and will instead provide you with a secure place to stay in for the foreseeable future. What d’you say, Gobbie?”

“I think I’ll just kill you.”

“Good luck with that.”

Peter’s curled fingers shifted a bit before he launched himself at the Goblin. The man cackled in response, swaying a little as Peter landed on his glider. Peter finally punched him—and boy, did it feel good!—then put his hand on his shoulder to jump behind the Goblin’s back. Before he could, though, he was kicked off the vehicle and skidded back onto the roof before coming to a halt and turning to focus on the villain.

“Pathetic!” the Goblin declared gleefully. “So much potential, wasted on someone as weak as you.”

“I wouldn’t call the kid weak,” a voice called. “Having virtues and principles to live by sounds like a strength, wouldn’t you say, Norman?”

Peter didn’t bat an eye when the Iron Man suit landed next to him with a metallic clang! The Green Goblin sneered at the sight of him, though. He didn’t seem to appreciate another member joining the party. Which frankly made Peter so glad they’d gone with this plan. Anything that upset Norman Osborn was okay with him.

“Stark,” Goblin said scornfully. “What happened, Peter? Couldn’t deal with me by yourself?”

“Nah, I can handle you just fine. But he wanted to help and I didn’t have the heart to turn him down,” said Peter as he felt Mr. Stark’s armored hand landing on his shoulder, like a silent support.

“Sure, kid. Let’s say that’s how it happened,” said the billionaire, then he turned to the Green Goblin. “It’s been a few hours since I last saw you, Norman. Gotta ask—what kind of diet do you use? You look unhealthily green at the moment. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it kind of is. Bad, I mean.”

The Goblin let out an outraged voice and tried to steer the glider toward the two of them, but nothing happened. His eyes visibly widened behind the mask as he looked down at himself and finally realized what was going on.

Creeping from his shoulder—where Peter had put it—was a suit of armor, not unlike the Iron Man suit. Only this one was completely shut down with no way to activate it, no way to control or move it, no way to attack anyone with it. Its only purpose was to lock people inside it. People like, say, lunatics in green costumes, flying on gliders across the city. People like the Green Goblin.

“What did you do!” he screeched, trying to fight his way out of the armor that finally moved to cover his head as well, sealing him in.

“It’s a containment suit,” said Mr. Stark. “You like it? I’ve been tinkering with that for a while. It’s nice to know it’s working all right. What do you say, kid?”

“Can I have some of these?”

“No.”

Peter crossed his arms and scoffed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips behind the mask as he watched the Goblin’s fight to release himself. His movements were futile, though. The armor was made out of vibranium. He could struggle all day long and nothing would change. He wouldn’t be able to escape this.

“Release me! Let me out! Fight me properly, you cowards! You can’t keep me like this!”

Mr. Stark sniffed. “You’d be surprised what a bit of vibranium can do. Although a way to make you shut up would have been nice.” Then he turned to Peter and let his faceplate slide up to reveal his worried expression. “You doing okay? How are you feeling kid?”

Turning his back on the Green Goblin who was still yelling at them to let him out, Peter pulled off his mask and smiled at the sight of the sun rising on the horizon, painting the sky a lighter blue and different hues of pink and yellow. His chest felt lighter, the cold air ruffling his hair and brushing against his cheeks like a caressing hand.

“Relieved,” he said, not taking his eyes off the sunrise. “I think… I think I’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you’re back!”

“Me neither.”

“I mean, you’ve been gone for two years and now you’re just… back!”

“Yeah, it’s crazy.”

“Your life is so weird, dude. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

Peter sent Ned an amused look as they walked down the school hallway, avoiding bumping into anyone else. It felt odd, walking down these corridors again without the need to sneak around and with the renewed purpose of once more attending classes and working on his education. Ned’s rambling was making it all slightly less overwhelming, though.

Ned continued. “And, of course, for inviting me over after school. I still can’t believe I’m actually allowed to walk back into Avengers Tower. As a guest. To hang out with you. Like, damn! That’s the coolest thing anyone in this school has ever done, I swear. Well, other than you, I mean.”

“Ned, shut up before anyone hears you—”

“Hey, what’s it like, living at Avengers Tower? What’s it like to be, like, Tony Stark’s roommate? Does he eat normal food? Is there a rich equivalent to pop tarts? Do you get to eat it now, too? Will I? Wait, should I have brought my own lunch or—”

“Ned!” Peter cut in, putting a grounding hand on Ned’s shoulder to make him shut up. “Living there is just like living anywhere else, okay? Except for the AI installed everywhere and the… labs I can work in, I guess. But it’s pretty much normal, okay? the Avengers don’t even live there anymore since there’s the compound too, remember? So it’s just me, Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts. And they eat regular food.”

Ned nodded eagerly. “Awesome.”

Peter’s gaze drifted over Ned’s shoulder and landed on a girl that was just opening her locker further down the corridor. His eyes widened and he found himself shifting the weight of his backpack that was slung over his back.

“Um… I’ll meet you in class, okay? I’ve gotta do something first,” he told Ned.

His friend looked slightly confused. “You… is it you-know-who related? Like thwip, thwip?” he asked, miming the action of shooting webs.

“What? No. It’s something else. Just… I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Ned shrugged and nodded. He walked away without any more protests, leaving Peter alone, his eyes trained on the girl as she pulled out a textbook from her locker. Moving past the few people between them, Peter quickly approached her, biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

“Hey, MJ!” he chirped once he was right behind her.

She flinched in surprise and dropped her book before she could shove it into her bag. Peter caught it before it could reach the floor, then handed it to her with an apologetic smile. The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of him, her brown irises glinting with recognition as she took her book from him and warily eyed him while zipping her backpack shut and throwing it over her shoulder.

“Bartholomew Kasady,” she said slowly. “Why did you just sneak up on me?”

“I—no, that was—it was an accident,” he stuttered. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you, I just saw you and figured this was the perfect time to talk to you—”

“What are you doing here?”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “I reenrolled here.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“See, I used to come here when I was a freshman, but then a lot of stuff happened and I dropped out of school and sort of ran away for a while. But I sorted out some stuff lately and my foster parents kinda insisted on me going back to school, so here I am. I mean, they asked me where I’d like to go and I said Midtown ‘cause my friend goes here and I already know the staff and some of the students and—I don’t remember you from back then, by the way.”

She blinked once. “I moved here last year.”

“Oh, that—that explains it.” He smiled nervously as he pulled his bag forward and unzipped it. “And, uh, I didn’t forget, you know. About the laptop? I know I ruined it and I promised I’d pay you back. I still don’t have enough, sorry, but I do live with someone who has—er—a lot of spare parts just lying around, y’know? So he let me tinker with them so I made this…”

He carefully pulled out a laptop from his bag. It didn’t have any symbol on it or the name of some tech company. Peter really did build it from scraps, and he made sure not to use anything that had the Stark logo on it. The last thing he needed was for this girl to figure something out because of a stupid laptop. But he did owe her, and he imagined this was the least he could do.

She stared at the laptop, then up at him. “You built this?”

“I… yes?”

“You built me a laptop?”

“I don’t—I mean, it’s temporary, you know? I’d get you the money and then you’d be able to get a new one you like, right? It’s just… I felt really bad so I made this. It’s… it works, so that’s something. I mean, it’s not too bad, I think you’ll be able to use it for whatever. Just—I’m really sorry for breaking your computer the other day. That was… it was an accident.”

“You looked like you were freaking out from whatever was on that USB drive,” she noted.

Peter shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded instead. “Yeah, that’s pretty accurate. I was just… caught off guard. It was bad, like, really bad. But it’s behind me now, so there’s that.” He tried for a smile but it felt incredibly awkward. “Um… anyway, this is yours now.”

Hesitantly, she took the laptop and turned it over in her hands while humming appreciatively.

“Thanks,” she said eventually.

Smile relaxing, Peter closed his bag again, shoved it back over his shoulder and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, no problem.”

They both fell silent after that, just standing there and glancing at each other while pretending not to. Peter forgot what it was like to be an embarrassed teenager, but feeling it again… this was very familiar. He kind of wished he wasn’t reacquainted with the feeling, but oh well.

“I still have it,” the girl said after a moment too long.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Er… the ruined computer?”

“The USB.”

“Oh.” His stomach lurched a bit at the reminder of it, but he ignored it. “You… you didn’t open it, right?”

She snorted. “After seeing your reaction to what was on it? No way. I only kept it because I was worried you’d find me again and, like, smash my chest if you found out I got rid of it.”

“I wouldn’t have—”

“If you want it, I can give it back to you,” she interrupted.

Peter nodded quickly. He could show Mr. Stark everything that was on there. There were a lot of things Norman Osborn had managed to erase from his company’s database before the government took a hold of his assets. But some of these things were definitely still on the USB. So if they could go through them more thoroughly, it would make everything much simpler.

“That’d be great, actually!” he said brightly.

The corners of MJ’s mouth tugged upward. “Cool. How about tomorrow after school? There’s this café around the corner—we could meet there.”

“Yeah, sure. Awesome.”

She huffed a little in amusement and straightened the strap of her backpack as she turned around to walk away, calling, “Guess I’ll see you around then, Bartholomew Kasady.”

“It’s Peter,” he said before she could step away from him. “Peter Parker.”

Glancing at him over her shoulder, MJ smirked. “How is it that your real name sounds even more fake?”

“It’s just an acronym. It doesn’t make it fake…” he mumbled, then met her eyes and said, “You told me you’d give me your name once I told you mine.”

“Michelle Jones,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, her eyes softer than they were before. “Bye, Peter Parker.”

Peter watched her as she walked away and turned around the corner, a smile etched into his face. Although he cursed when the bell rang and startled him back into reality. Without looking over his shoulder even once, he ran toward his first lesson in a while. And, most likely, his first scolding from a teacher in nearly two years.

This felt nice.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”—The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost