Chapter Text
"…One…Two…Three…"
The trio lifts in unison, strain etched on their faces as they try to jostle their cargo as little as possible. There are moans and grunts as they deposit the load onto the couch, taking care not to pull off the thick white sheets or the makeshift plastic tarp stitched together from garbage bags and duct tape…
When they are done, they stand back.
Ned is panting, bending over and placing his hands on his knees, sweat dripping down from his forehead.
There is an odd silence between them, staring down at the maroon and black armor that adorns the unconscious man now occupying, and bleeding all over, Aunt May's couch. Their eyes land on the intertwined, double D's carved into his chest plate.
"…So…" Michelle finally says, straightening up and looking over at Peter, who is wiping his bloody hands across his thighs. "…This is why you quit marching band."
~~~
Two Days Earlier
"...are in the side drawer. Only use them in an emergency. I put a spare inhaler in-"
Aunt May gives Peter a funny look, twisting her head to the side and then shaking it as she looks away, getting that nearly wild look in her eyes that he hates but has, unfortunately, become a regular thing these days. "Right. You don't even need that anymore." She laughs a little, running her fingers through her long hair. "Wow."
"May…" Peter says, trying to pull her from her thoughts before another one of these conversations start up. It's not that he doesn't like talking about Spider-Man in front of her, it's that he doesn't like that fearful glaze that comes over her eyes when they do. He doesn't want her to worry this weekend. "I'll be fine. It's three days."
"Uh-huh, well, I put Mrs. Muggin's number on the fridge just in case anything happens, alright? Just don't...let her in here." May says, pointing a finger at Peter. She narrows her eyes, keeping the finger on him. "…And don't let her cat in here either."
Peter's furrows his brows, eyes widening slightly as he turns his head. "That thing is her's?"
May lets her hand drop and reaches down to her suitcase, pulling the handle up so that it can roll behind her. "It didn't used to be.”
“Uh.…” Peter takes a second to ponder what that even means, imagining the last time that the scrawny, evil-looking cat with the matted fur and a bent tail managed to get in to their apartment. It had taken two days to get it out, and the smell had lingered for a couple weeks after that.
"Duly noted," he says, as May grabs her purse in the other hand and stands there, looking at him, her eyes welling up with tears.
"Well," She says, inhaling slightly, before wrapping her arms around him.
"...Maaaay," he laments, and man, the spider-strength definitely doesn't make him immune to his Aunt's bear-hugs. "I can't breathe."
He's trying to keep the situation lighthearted, but he understands what this is. She hasn't gone on a trip since…well, that night. And between now and then she had discovered his secret, that he's a vigilante who goes out every night and faces a lot of pretty dangerous situations. It had been a couple of weeks, since she finally came to terms with it, but still-…it was fresh on the pair's minds.
"Peter, listen to me." She says, pulling away from the teenager and holding him at arm's length. "I know I can't stop you from-" She brings a hand off of his shoulder to wave around vaguely. "But please just-…this weekend, maybe stick to…saving cats from trees and stopping kids from getting hit by cars or something."
Peter chuckles slightly. "Okay, I'll try."
"Peter-"
"I said I'll try!"
May sighs, shaking her head as she lets him go. "I swear I'm gonna get ulcers," She mutters, as she pulls the door open. Despite her worried demeanor, she does smirk at him.
Peter smiles back.
"See you later, tough guy," She says, crossing the threshold, almost closing the door, before she opens it slightly again. "Don't be late for school!"
Peter laughs, as he walks up to the door and presses it shut behind her, turning around and leaning up against it. A smirk spreads across his face as he views the empty apartment.
Home alone for an entire weekend. Yes!
~~~
"-got the hot chocolate if you've got the marshmallows, and then we're gonna need a couple of energy drinks. Okay, a lot of energy drinks. Ooooh, and maybe some of those lime potato chips-"
"-Ned."
"What's your mbps? Do you think it could handle both of us? Should I bring my aircard? I should probably bring my aircard- Dude, how good of a signal do you think Karen gets?"
"Exceptional, but -Ned-, We aren't hijacking Karen's network to play Overwatch,” Peter gripes, as he stuffs his books into his locker. He shakes his head and smirks at Ned's very disappointed expression.
"Man, I really wanna see what it can do. I mean, it's a product of the smartest guy on the planet."
"She probably won't even let you," Peter throws back.
"You never know unless you try," Ned leans against the locked, narrowing his eyes. "Also? You calling your suit a she? Mildly creepy."
"What's creepy?"
Peter slams his locker door closed in a knee-jerk reaction as Ned straightens, pushing himself away from his locker. Peter's swiveling on his heels to get a face-full of frizzy hair as he nearly takes down Michelle. Correction. MJ, their new friend.
Theeeeeeeiiiiir new friend who also doesn't know.
"What?" He asks, blinking.
MJ narrows her eyes at Peter, shaking her head slowly in a way that says "are you kidding me?"
"…What's creepy?" She asks again.
"Oh, uh-nothing, just-" Peter makes a sort of waving motion with his hands, before kicking a backwards thumbs up towards Ned, who sputters.
"New video-game." Ned spits out. "Uh. Well. Old video game. Ish. We're gonna play it tonight."
MJ raises her eyebrows at the pair, her lips pressed in to a thin line, as she nods in a manner that shows that she either doesn't believe them or doesn't care. Or both. Peter still can't get a good read on her, which is…troubling.
The three of them share a rather awkward silence.
"…Wanna…join us?" Peter eventually asks.
MJ turns her head to the side slightly, a small, suspicious smirk on her lips, but he thinks he detects the smallest hint of surprise in her eyes. "You sure three's not a crowd?"
Peter shakes his head, glancing back at Ned who is staring at him wide-eyed, before turning back and nodding, then subsequently realizing that his head motions leave something to be desired in the interpretation department. "No!-No. Three is definitely not a crowd. A crowd's gotta be, at least, what, five?"
MJ's smirk widens, and she rolls her eyes, before walking past the two of them. "Maybe." She says as she passes. "Later, nerds."
"...Later.…" Peter mumbles, moving forward and pressing his forehead against the cool metal of his locker, which helps to sooth the heat on his cheeks from that embarrassing encounter. He anticipates the "Dude-" that slips from Ned's mouth the second MJ's out of earshot.
"I panicked." He says dully, before Ned can even yell at him.
"This was our night!" Ned laments, raising his arms and reaching for the sky. "No school people, no parents, no aunts, just totally awesome, unfiltered, unabridged video gaming."
"…And 'shop talk'?" Peter ventures, turning his head while still keeping it on the locker.
"And shop talk!" Ned confirms desperately.
"She probably won't even show up, Ned-" Peter says, pointing after the direction MJ had gone. "She doesn't seem like a video game person. Or a…hanging out with people person."
"Or a person person," Ned adds.
"That's-…" Fair? Peter feels shitty for thinking it. "…a little much, right?"
"Hey, man- I'm just saying, if she suddenly wants to call us friends, she should at least act like it." Ned starts walking, and Peter takes that as a cue that the bell will ring soon for homeroom. Which means he has a date with detention. As he will for the rest of the year.
He glances back in the direction that MJ had gone.
"…Yeah, guess you're right."
~~
"KISS YOUR GRAN GOODNIGHT, BITCH!"
"-no no No NONONONO-crap." Peter drops the controller, then realizes what he's done and webs it back to him before it can crash to the ground.
"YESS!!!! YESSS!!!!! TAKE. THAT." Ned is fist pumping the air with every syllable.
"You don't even play fair, you just use the wheel."
"You're envious of my skills, young Padawan," Ned replies back, drumming his fingers together as he looks up at Peter.
"That's not skill, that's like bringing a grenade to a shooting match, throwing it in the vicinity of the target, and then claiming to be the best shot."
"Okay well maybe if you didn't play upside down, you wouldn't get your left and right mixed up so much."
Peter opens his mouth to contradict but honestly Ned has a point. He sighs, unsticking himself from the ceiling and twisting so he lands on the ground with his feet. Ned stares at him.
"What?"
"I just want to reiterate how cool that is," Ned says, nodding, as he sits back on the couch. "And that our lives are amazing."
Peter snorts, shuffling back on to the couch and letting himself fall back on to it, jostling Ned slightly as he does.
He doesn't argue Ned about it because he's right. Life was pretty sweet right now. Was he an Avenger? No. Was Tony Stark still 'mentoring' him? Also no. It'd been radio silence since Peter had turned him down. The teenager had flip-flopped back and forth on the decision that he made when Mr. Stark had asked him to join the team, wondering if it really was just a test of the lessons he had learned while fighting Mr. Toomes, or if the billionaire had actually been serious, and was now angry at him. But, looking over at Ned, glancing around his house, Peter is starting to think that regardless of what Mr. Stark had meant, he had made the right decision anyways. He would have really missed this place, Queens, his Aunt, and Ned. He'd have had to leave school, and as much as he had thought he didn't need to be here, after letting the shine and shimmer of having the suit and being under the tutelage of Iron Man had worn off, he realized he still…wanted to be a scientist, whether that meant using science to up his superhero game, or well, being an actual scientist in a lab somewhere. And he had friends here, ish. He wasn't the most popular kid around (or even remotely in the realm of popular to be honest), he had a good crowd of people in the Academic Decathlon team, and pretty much all of them would be doing Science Olympiad in the Spring.
Things are so much better now that Ned and Aunt May know, now that Peter doesn't have to hide from the people he's closest to. Even if he does feel guilty, seeing the look in his Aunt's eyes, it's not as guilty as he felt lying to her every time she brought up his odd behavior, when she had that freak-out after the ferry incident.
And Spider-Man? Peter feels like he's really starting to get some wear on his soles with Spider-Man. He's becoming a more established, more recognizable vigilante. And he's feeling more confident too, he's making smarter decisions (he thinks). Which is good because more recognition means more problems, too. Like dealing with the police coming after him, and losing a certain element of surprise and confusion when facing enemies. They’re starting to anticipate him. But it's fine because between he, Karen, and Ned, they're really starting to become a solid force to be reckoned with.
"What?" Ned asks, looking at him. Peter realizes he's been grinning at his friend.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, no I was just thinking: Our lives are amazing," Peter replies, leaning forward and grabbing his controller.
His phone pings at him before they can rejoin the server, and Peter digs it out and glances at the notification lighting up the cracked screen. It's Karen's notification system. He usually has her monitoring police broadband in the background, then when there's a problem, she sends him a message on his phone.
"Shit-Uh," Peter glances at Ned with a sheepish look, but Ned just looks like they hit the lottery. He turns off the ps4 and grabs his laptop and headset out of his bag.
"Just tell me where I can set up."
~~
"This heater is amazing."
{Your destination is approaching on the right, Peter…}
"Got it."
"You know? Sometimes I wish Karen wasn't a thing," Ned's voice comes over the comm link in Peter's ear. "No offense, Karen, but I feel like I've got nothing to do here."
{None taken. I was designed to aid in all areas of fieldwork, so it isn't surprising that your presence is not required} Comes Karen's neutral, yet somehow sassy voice. Peter laughs.
"Woooowwww, that's awesome. Upstaged by a piece of hardware. A very, very incredible piece of hardware." Ned admits.
"You're moral support?" Peter asks, as he clings to two webs and propels himself up a building, landing hard on the upper corner, just before the edge of the roof, and situating himself under a gargoyle. "Okay, I'm here."
"Okay, hold tight. They should be approaching like, any minute. Jesus, that's high. God…damnit, stupid internet-"
Ned was able to tap in to Karen's feed and see everything Peter saw real time, which he thought was amazingly cool (and sometimes incredibly unnerving). But the connection required for constant, real-time surveillance? Not something he and his Aunt could afford. For now, Peter smirks and settles against the wall and waits, feeling the cold of the concrete and the arch of the gargoyle cool his skin where they touch the fabric of his suit. The whole getup is emitting a low heat, enough to combat the cold, winter air, but not enough to start him sweating with all the webslinging he did to get here.
A stolen car linked to an AMBER alert was what had popped up on his phone and a high speed pursuit had been in place. When it came in to range of Karen's pre-set search radius, they were rushing past Forest Hills. By the time Peter had gotten in to his suit and to a point in town where he could actually websling, they were on the bridge. Peter had debated giving up, but after listening to the trouble the police were having, decided to continue his pursuit.
"Ugh, I gi- -up wi- th- --rnet."
"Uh, Hello?"
"Got you back. Still nothing?"
"Still nothing."
There had been a stall in the chase somewhere in Midtown East and Peter, panting and getting frustrated, decided to try and get ahead of them. He was near his school, planted up in the corner of some bank, waiting for the moment to swoop down and catch them now.
Okay so technically this wasn't saving kids from getting hit by cars. But this involved cars, and saving kids, so Peter was gonna call loophole on this if his Aunt saw it on the news later…
"Seriously, I'd be freezing my butt off waiting here if this thing didn't exist," Peter finally says, still praising the heater in the suit.
"Uh huh.…" comes the reply, slightly distracted and Peter furrows his brows under the mask.
"Ned?"
"Yeah? What?" The sound of gunshots and yelling floats through the comms. Another voice shrieks profanities and insults in the distance, all coming through on a sort of in-and-out audio.
"Are you playing Overwatch?" Peter snaps.
"Peter you've been swinging around for half an hour," comes the reply. "I got bored and Karen takes care of everything."
"Oh, my god," Peter says dramatically, rolling his eyes as he switches his hands from the wall behind him to the gargoyle above him, a more comfortable position, at least. "Maybe if you didn't have both going at once, you'd be able to actually see what's happening right no-."
That's when he hears the sirens, really hears them. He'd picked up on them a while ago, but now they were getting close, and he turns in the direction they are coming from.
A dark red sedan comes careening in to view, drifting on a wide turn and just avoiding a crash with a taxi. Peter lets go of the gargoyle and pushes off with his feet, using a web attached to the side of the building as a lifeline. He skips across the building and starts to descend.
"Karen, am I close enough to get a decent scan of the vehicle?" Peter asks, knowing that Droney doesn't fly fast enough to keep up with a high-speed chase like this.
{You'll need to get at least 500 feet closer} Karen replies.
"Damnit," Peter says, among the sirens and the explosions in the background on his comm. "Ned can you turn that off?"
"Sorry, is it getting good?"
"We're gonna find- Oh Shit," Peter gasps. He lets go of the webline and drops.
The driver of the dark red sedan was good, that was for sure. How else could they have evaded pretty much the entire police force of Queens and Manhattan while also weaving in and out of New York traffic? But they didn't give a crap about the safety of others. The vehicle had weaved on to the oncoming side of traffic to avoid a squad car that had entered from the adjacent street. Suddenly it had stopped, swerved, skidding in a U-fashion to turn on to the next street, narrowly missing a box truck.
Said box truck was now losing control, and as Peter dives without a web towards the intersection, it jack-knifes and heads straight for a restaurant on the corner. Peter reaches out with his webshooters, and aims between the two traffic lights. "Web grenade-Web grenade!"
The ball of webbing shoots from his palm and hits the sidewalk, exploding in a mess of webbing that connects the two traffic lights just in time to catch the box truck. Peter instantly shoots another, normal web line with his other hand, swinging dangerously low, his feet touching and skipping across the pavement, as he rolls in front of another car that had swerved to avoid the box truck, and holds out his hands.
"Peter!-"
The bumper crumples under his grip and he feels the strain in his wrists as he skids backwards, stopping the car just a few feet of the opposite side of the intersection's sidewalk, where a few dozen pedestrians stand frozen in shock.
"HOLY SHIT, that WAS AWESOME." Ned shouts over the comm link. "At least I think it was awesome! It was mostly a lagging mess but it seemed awesome!"
Peter sighs in relief as a few tentative claps, then a chorus of cheers erupts through the crowd.
"That. Does it." Peter mumbles, swiveling on his heels to face the crowd, and the street the dark red sedan had disappeared down. "Everybody good? Good? Okay! Farewell, pedestrians!"
He takes a few steps to run before shooting a webline to the nearest building, gaining speed and height as fast as he can. "That guy's gonna kill someone!"
"He probably already has…" Comes the hesitant reply.
"Karen, scan the vehicle," Peter says. He pointedly ignores that last statement from Ned, because he doesn't want to think about the people who got hurt while he was catching up. Peter shortens his swings, casting a webline out and tightening the tension so he's wasting less time following through with the arc of his swing. He can feel the wind start to pick up as it sweeps past his suit, his arms starting to burn from the effort of swinging at this pace.
{Two occupants - One adult, the other matches the height and weight of a four to five year old child}
Peter is catching up.
Uh. Peter?"
"Little busy here, Ned!"
"Are you expecting company? Caaaaause the doorbell just rang."
"What? No?" Peter asks more than answers as he turns, grunting slightly as the force of his tight arc tests his ability to hold on to his own webline. "Just don't answer it."
"Oh My God, It's MJ."
"Oh, my God, Ned!" Peter yells. Panic dances across his chest. MJ?!?
"You invited her, remember?!?" Comes Ned's panicked voice. Great, now they're both panicking! Peter sees the red sedan, coming near the border between Midtown and Hell's Kitchen. He throws out a couple quick weblines, propelling himself forward at a quicker pace.
"I didn't think she'd actually come!" He gripes. "Make her leave!"
"How the Hell am I supposed to do that?"
"I dunno! Ned I can't talk, just- take care of it! Hide the laptop! Karen, end call-" Peter lets go of the webline and plummets down towards the dark red sedan.
~~
"Peter? Peter! What if you get in troub-" Ned listens to the click on the other end of the line that signals Peter has hung up on him, and sits back in his chair, freaking the Hell out because-
Because he doesn't know what to do. This is why he's the guy in the chair, not the super hero. As awesome as Peter's life is? Ned is kind of really glad that he's the best friend of the guy who's a super hero. All the fun, none of the danger.
Okay…well, not as much of the danger.
"Hellllooooo? I can hear you dweebs in there, you know."
Ned glances down to the laptop that’s connected to Karen's network, and Peter's viewfinder. He has just enough time to see the top of the red sedan they'd been tailing explode open from gunfire before he slams the laptop shut.
You better be okay, jerk, he thinks, as he stuffs his headset and the computer in to his bag, zipping it up nicely and shoving it all under the couch. He walks to the door once again, placing his eye up against the peep hole and sucking in a breath.
He unlocks the door and opens it, smirking at Michelle, who looks anything but amused, standing there with a white box in her hand. He can see the thin straps of a smaller backpack across her shoulders.
"Hiiiiii Micheeeeellle," Ned says, grinning at her.
Michelle raises an eyebrow at him, then walks in to the apartment before he can stop her. Ned panics, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but he doesn't for the life of him have a good excuse, so he instead he says, "What are you doing here?"
Ugh. Man. That came out wrong.
Michelle walks in to the apartment and looks around, and it creeps Ned out because she looks like she's observing, taking stuff in with a calculating eye. She turns back to Ned and frowns. "…You invited me?"
Ned shakes his head immediately. "No-yeah. Right. I mean, just…it's kind of late. We didn't think you were going to show up."
"Yeah, well, I had to deal with a thing, and then the line for donuts on a Friday night was surprisingly long." She says, lifting the box slightly in her hands.
"…You brought donuts?" Ned asked, honestly a little surprised.
"Thought if I was going to partake in gaming, I should at least contribute some food." She answered simply, turning her head back to the living room and looking at the menu screen for Overwatch, and the very empty couch. "…Uh…Where's Peter?"
"Uhhhhh, Peter?" Ned asks. "Peter Parker?"
Michelle raises both of her eyebrows and narrows her eyes at Ned, as she leans forward slightly, reaching out and depositing the box on to the little dining table. "Uhhh, yeah? Peter Parker? This is his place, right?"
"Uh- R-ih-hight," Ned says, laughing through the first part of the word. WOW. How is he so terrible at this? "See, the thing is Peter is…not here."
"Obviously."
"Because-...he's, out getting food. Yep." Ned says quickly. "But uh, he hadn't decided what we should get yet, so I have no idea when he'll be back."
"Uh Huh," Michelle says, folding her arms, giving Ned an expression that clearly says 'I don't believe you'. Ned just smiles back.
A few seconds pass between them.
"Well, then, that seat taken?" She asks, pointing towards the couch.
"Uh…No." Ned says, relieved and somewhat alarmed that she doesn't press the matter. He automatically walks towards the couch and sits down. Michelle takes her seat next to him, taking off her shoes to reveal white and grey, striped socks, and tucks them neatly under the couch, before tucking her legs under her and pulling off her small backpack. She reaches in to her bag and pulls out a new paperback.
"…Uh…you wanna…play?" Ned asks, after watching her for a moment. Her eyes sweep up from behind the book, glancing at Ned, then the TV, then back to the pages she just cracked open.
"Nah, you go ahead."
"…Right…" Ned says, turning slowly back towards the TV before joining the server, trying really hard not to panic or look at the clock.
~~
"…Ow…"
Peter pushes himself up slowly, feeling the ache in his right arm and side as he listens to the fabric of his suit scrape against the concrete. He hears a clattering and turns, shoving a couple of pipes and metal sheeting off of him, rolling on to his back.
"That sucked," He admits, taking a moment to catch his breath, before he realizes he doesn't have a moment, and jumps to his feet.
The dark red sedan is trapped in a wreck of rebar, studs and broken brick, the side of the old building having caved in easily against its impact. Peter jumps over a small pile of bricks and boxes that were overturned during the crash, landing on the crumpled hood. The driver’s side is empty, as is the back seat of the vehicle.
"Remind me to jump away from the car before it hits the building next time," Peter mumbles, rubbing at his sore shoulder.
{Sure thing. Would you like that reminder every time you engage in a car chase, or right when the odds of impact become inevitable?}
"What? Karen, no, it was- Never mind…" He says, landing back on the concrete. He rolls his shoulders slightly, not knowing if the blackout he'd experienced was only for a few second, or a few minutes. "Are they still in the building?"
{Checking.…}
He starts to make his way around the lower floor that he is currently in. The building is old, abandoned, and open, but looks like it might have housed a company here once. Though the style is like some sort of warehouse, there are a lot of desks and chairs that are strewn about, papers, pretty much everything you need to run some sort of office type workplace.
{I'm showing three life forms in the building, two match the description of the suspect and missing child-}
Peter furrows his brow in confusion, as he suddenly feels the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. "Wait-, three?"
AH! No..- No! Get away!"
Peter swivels in place towards the sound. It's a man's voice, possibly the voice of the suspect, but also it could be some other, random person who happened to be unfortunate enough to be here.
Two gunshots go off, followed by a scream that undoubtedly belongs to a little girl, and Peter is running, sprinting towards what sounds like the North West corner of the building. He shoots a web, then another, propelling himself through a wall with a glass-less window and skidding in to the fray. He sees someone running, out of the corner of his eye, disappear in to the shadows before he can pinpoint who it is.
In front of him, is the suspect, he saw the man's face on the news feed Karen had fed to him, and caught a glimpse of him when he blew a hole in he roof of the car earlier. His back was facing Peter when he'd dove in to the area, but now he turns around, sees Spider-Man, and shoots blindly.
Peter ducks, flattening himself against an overturned desk as he feels the bullet whiz by him, heart thudding, as it always does when someone's shooting at him. He has no clue if this suit is bulletproof and he kind of doesn't want to find out. He doesn't think it's bulletproof, but he wouldn't put it past Mr. Stark to find a thin, and nearly indestructible fabric.
"Hey, I was told it's not nice to shoot at people before you introduce yourself!" Peter says, pushing himself up into a flip, reaching out on the turn and webbing the gun from the man's hand. He catches it, and snaps it in half to take it out of play. "Hi! I'm Spider-Man! Did you see a little girl running around here?"
"Fucking freaks!" the man yells, tripping over himself as he runs in the opposite direction.
Peter rolls his eyes, jumping up and skipping from wall to wall as he tails the man. "Dude, I was able to keep up with you when you were in a car, do you reaaaaally think you've got a shot on foot?"
The man turns down a corner, out of Peter's sight, slamming a door in his wake, and Peter gets there just in time to hear something crashing down in the next room. He goes to open the door, and it opens about an inch before it hits something that feels pretty solid. Brilliant.
"You know that's not gonna stop me!" Peter calls, taking a few steps back, before he runs in to the door and slams it open. The whole thing comes off the hinges, and he sees a metal shelving unit tilt and fall on to its side, causing a deafening roar as it does so. He grimaces, wincing against the sound, before hopping over it unceremoniously, and walking towards the only other doorway in the room.
"Come on, man! We both know that-" Peter stops, blinking at the driver of the dark red sedan, lying unconscious in the middle of the next room. A feeling of doubt suddenly overcomes him, a sort of creeped out feeling, similar to the ones you get when you play scary video games and you know something's about to happen.
Cautiously, he walks towards the man, kneeling down to check his pulse.
{Vitals are strong. He's just unconscious} Comes Karen's voice, softer than normal.
The door behind him suddenly shuts, and Peter jumps, turning mid-way and spreading his legs in a fighting stance.
"Hello, Spider-Man."
~~
"Oh, COME ON!"
Michelle raises an eyebrow from behind her book as she watches Ned croak for the fifteenth time in ten minutes.
"HELLO? EXCUSE ME? WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO THE CONCEPT OF WATCHING YOUR TEAM MATES' BACKS?" Ned yells over the headset, before logging off in an act of passive aggression and leaning back against the couch, fuming.
A second later a donut finds its way in front of his face. Ned's eyes slide over to Michelle, who has put down the book and is holding the chocolate glaze out to him.
"You're not you when you're hungry." She says simply.
Ned sort of wants to punch her in the face, which is not usually his style, but something about her just…bugs him. The whole, 'too cool for you', sarcastic one-liners deal isn't his bag. It just seems like those people are acting. Fake.
He takes the donut anyways, and staring at her.
Michelle goes back to her book.
It has been an hour and a half since Ned hung up with Peter, and he's starting to get a little worried. But he can't call Peter, not now, with Detective Jones over here. She's way too smart and he has a feeling she has like, a third eye and extra ears or something. Ned glances at the clock for the umpteenth time, which to be honest, is the real reason he has been sucking at Overwatch.
"Lines are a bitch on a Friday night."
Ned turns his head towards Michelle, who has gone to her book, but seems to be offering that as some sort of explanation for Peter being absent. Ned bites his lip, she says it in the same way she says almost everything, with a neutral tone and a steady cadence. It makes it hard to tell if she’s suspicious or simply doesn’t care.
Ned tries to play along anyways. “Yeah…I honestly have no idea where he is.”
“Maybe he got caught up in something,”
It’s said with just flippant enough tone to imply suspicion, and that rubs Ned the wrong way. “Maybe.”
Michelle leans back on the couch, smirking and closing her book. “Or maybe he got run over.”
“Will you quit it?” Ned snaps suddenly, anxiety crawling up his spine, because man. What if he did get run over?
Michelle raises an eyebrow at him, a slight bit of surprise in her expression, before it levels out in to an even stare. “What-“
“I’M BACK! - I’m…back.” The two of them turn to face the front of the apartment, where the door hangs open in half-swing back to a closing position, and Peter is standing there in the clothes he wore that day to school, waving a single hand in the air, before hunching over and placing his hands on his knees. He takes a moment to catch his breath. He looks like he’s been running…
…or swinging. Swinging is more likely.
Ned’s heart is hammering in his chest. Peter looks, well, good, but he’s missing a very important object that sort of seals the deal on the story Ned fed MJ. Not that Peter would know, seeing as Ned couldn’t call him…
“Where’s the food?” Michelle asks.
“Huh?” Peter asks, tilting his head up and looking at her, seeming to notice her for the first time, still catching his breath. His eyes dart to Ned, who is shaking his head frantically and making motions with his hands that he knows won’t make any sense to Peter, but hopes he just…goes with it anyways.
“The food? Was-…was…was closed.” Peter stutters out, before letting his eyes fall closed and hanging his head.
“ ‘Food’ was closed.” Michelle echoes, amusement in her voice.
Bless Peter’s soul. They really need to get better at lying.
"Uh." Peter says, staring back at Ned for a moment, a bit of panic on his face, before Michelle rolls her eyes and points at the box on the living room table.
"Relax, I don't care what you were doing. I brought donuts anyways." Their classmate seems to be giving them a break, and Ned has no idea why, but he thanks his lucky stars for it at this moment. Peter seems to be having the same thought, because he visibly relaxes. There's still a thin cloud of awkwardness though, lingering in the apartment. Peter and Ned stay in their relative positions for a moment, before finally, Peter speaks.
"I didn't think you were gonna show up, MJ, or I wouldn't have left for so long." He says, kicking off his shoes and padding over to the living room. The couch can seat three, albeit in close quarters. Ned is about to move so Peter can sit on the edge when Michelle scoots to the side quickly, making a space for Peter in the middle. The ruffled-looking teenager gives her a thin smile, before snatching a donut from the box and plopping down on the couch. "Thanks."
"You leave poor old Ned here all by his lonesome often?" She asks, picking up her book, but keeping it closed on her lap. Peter exchanges a glance with Ned.
"Not usually, he's spending the night," he says, to which Ned nods, while also giving Peter the eyes. The eyes that say, what happened without saying anything at all. Peter gives him an almost imperceptive shake of his head, which yeah of course, Ned figured Peter would tell him later, since, well, MJ is here. But he is dying to know now.
And once again, he is annoyed at Michelle's presence.
"Ah." MJ replies. "If this is your idea of an, 'My Aunt's away' party, you guys really are losers."
"Hey! We are-…" Peter glances at Ned again who jumps in.
"-Not the adventurous type. And indeed-…" He can't think of anything else to say. "…losers."
“Uh-huh,” MJ says, raising a brow again, glancing between Peter and Ned, before leaning back and opening the book. The interrogation, as well as the conversation, seems to be over at that point.
Peter turns his head back towards Ned slowly, his eyes slightly wide, and his lips pressed together with a force that nearly makes them disappear. Ned sort of stares back and there is this small moment where neither of them know what to do. Peter looks…a little different. A little giddy. Ned has known him for a while, and can tell by now when something is up. Something happened while Peter was gone, something that the young hero wants to talk about, but Michelle is barring them from doing it.
Which is really annoying, considering she doesn’t seem to be making the effort to actually hang out with them. She’s just-…reading her book.
“…So…video games?” Peter finally says, reaching forward and grabbing the controller. Ned nods slowly, getting up so he can reach the other one.
Peter’s default is to stick himself to the wall or the ceiling when they are playing video games. It’s sort of his default for everything now, when they are alone. He’s always perched in some weird, unnatural and impossible position, half of the time upside-down, and Ned wonder how he does it. Being upside-down is ridiculously uncomfortable and occasionally dangerous for a normal human being, but Peter does it constantly and sometimes prefers it. Ned blames the spider thing.
Not that he’s complaining because let’s be honest, hanging out with your best friend while he is suspended from the ceiling is weird in the best way. His friend is a superhero so he definitely is totally okay with it.
Peter can’t do any of that right now though, so instead he just sort of weirdly folds himself on the couch, re-positioning himself a few times in an attempt to get comfortable. Michelle takes an eye off her book to glance at him until Peter finally settles. Ned can tell he would rather be on the ceiling. So weird. So cool.
They cycle through a few titles, since Ned is tired of Overwatch. In the end they decide to try and beat LEGO Star Wars in a record amount of time. Michelle actually finishes her book while they are playing, setting it down on the arm of the chair and curling up with her legs tucked under her, watching them play.
About halfway through the game, Peter’s manners overcome their need to beat this record, and he turns to Michelle and offers her the controller. To Ned’s surprise, she takes it wordlessly, and then it’s Ned and MJ trying to beat the record as Peter fishes through the apartment for more snacks. MJ is surprisingly good, and while Peter cracks open the lime chips, and sits in front of the stove heating the milk for the hot chocolate, they manage to beat two levels.
“Okay so, chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate…I don’t have a stick for the marshmallows so we are uuuuusiiiiiing….” Peter rummages through the bag he got from the bathroom and tears open a fresh plastic bag. “-Tongue depressors!”
“Gross! I love it,” Ned says when he pauses the game and Michelle pushes herself from the couch, padding over towards the kitchen on striped, socked feet. She looks at Peter with a bit of amusement. Peter shrugs and hands one of them towards Ned, who takes it and folds it in his hands.
“I think we should microwave ten of these so they get all big and stick together,” Ned says. “Then this would be perfect.”
“As long as it doesn’t get all over the stove, May will kill me,” Peter says, looking back towards the gas burner. He reaches out to give one to Michelle, who holds up her hand.
“Nah, I’m good. Actually- I’m gonna bounce.” She says, glancing at the clock. It is around 1 am at this point. Late, true, but Ned still finds it odd, and aggravating, that now that they are actually doing something that requires talking to them, she suddenly has to leave. It isn’t as big a feeling as the relief that floods through him, though.
“Uh—…Alright.” Peter says dumbly, retracting his tongue depressor slowly and sticking it back in the bag. For what feels like the fiftieth time that night, there's a strange awkwardness, before Peter finally adds. “Well, it was nice hanging out. Thanks for coming.”
Michelle nods slightly, backing away from them and grabbing her shoes, book, and backpack as she does. “You guys can keep the donuts.”
She pulls out her phone, checks it with a fluid swipe of her thumb, then stuffs it in her pack with an annoyed look on her face. Something Ned and Peter both notice but don’t comment on because they both seem to be eager to be rid of her. Not necessarily to be rude, just…well. They’ve got stuff to talk about.
“Really? Thanks…” Peter says, walking her to the door. Ned watches from afar as Michelle smiles for the smallest of seconds. Ned busies himself with opening some graham crackers.
“Well, thanks for inviting me. Have fun with…” She waves her hand vaguely around the apartment. “-this.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter says, glancing back inside. “Uh-we will.”
Michelle nods slowly, glancing around before just sort of walking out the door, waving her hand and calling out a “bye” as she goes. Peter shuts the door slowly and turns around, leaning up against the maroon wood and giving Ned a weird look. Ned can tell he’s using his super hearing to track her footsteps, the way Peter's eyes drift between him and somewhere beyond the door.
When Michelle’s gotten what Ned assumes that Peter assumes is an acceptable distance away, he finally opens his mouth.
“…That was-“
“Weird,” Ned finishes.
“Awkward?”
“Both.” Ned decides, shoving a marshmallow on his tongue depressor. It doesn’t work well at all, the initial breach of the outside layer sort of causes the whole thing to fall apart as Ned tries to force the flat, thin, and wide wood in to the center. Ned shoves that one in his mouth and tries again, this time sticking the wood in to the side. Better.
Peter walks over, glancing back towards the door with an indecipherable expression on his face. “Yeah…she didn’t…say much.”
“She’s pretty good at LEGO Star Wars though, who knew?” Ned admits, his words muffled around the marshmallow, and now that he’s gotten the hang of it, he skewers another one and hands it to Peter, who takes it and makes his way to the stove. He removes the metal thingamajig that holds the pot, Ned honestly doesn’t know what it’s called, and turns the knob until the clicking sounds. The flame ignites and Peter puts it on high, so they get a sizable flame. The two of them hold their tongue depressors and marshmallows over it, watching as the flame disperses and licks around the bottom of the fluffy, white substance.
“What if-“ Peter starts, concentrating on the flame for a moment, turning his depressor idly in his hands. Ned watches Peter watch the flame. “-…nah.”
“Huh?” Ned asks, as Peter pulls his marshmallow away and goes to make his s’more. Ned doesn’t understand how Peter can take it away before it gets crispy on the edges, with just that hint of a burnt taste. It’s the actual best.
“Nothing. So you gotta hear what happened to me-“ Peter starts, swiveling around with a sudden renewed energy, as if the fact that they are alone has suddenly dawned on him. Ned almost asks him to backtrack to his thoughts on Michelle, but he wants to hear this story waaaay more so the change in subject is allowed.
“Yes! God, I’ve been dying, dude. Did you stop the guy? Did the police catch you? Did you have to bust your way out of jail?” Ned asks. He suddenly gasps. “Did you get kidnapped by a sewer monster and have to escape his underground lair?”
Peter furrows his brows and scrunches up his nose at Ned. “Wait, what? No. What sewer monster?”
“Dude, there’s always a sewer monster.” Ned presses.
“I-“ Peter glances to the side as if considering this, then admittedly nods. “Fair point- But no. I didn’t get kidnapped by a sewer monster or arrested.” He’s been assembling his s’more this whole time and takes the time to shove half of it in his mouth. Ned realizes Peter must be starving. He was gone for hours, and then they sat and played video games for hours, and Peter barely ate anything during that time. He eats an insane amount of food these days, Ned doesn’t know where it all goes. “It was better than all of that.”
Ned pulls his marshmallow away when he realizes that it’s on fire. He blows on it furiously as Peter stares, though his friend doesn’t actually do anything to help and instead shoves the rest of the s’more into his face.
“Okay, so then what happened?”
“We should really order a pizza - maybe two pizzas.” Peter says instead of answering Ned, glancing at his smore like it isn't enough. He pauses, before running over to the box of donuts that Michelle had left behind. “Like…three pizzas.”
“Peter!”
“Okay Okay! So-“
~~~
“Hello, Spider-Man…”
To say that Peter is startled is a bit of an understatement, though also inaccurate. He doesn’t jump out of his skin or anything. But this is definitely playing out in classic, horror-movie fashion, and Peter would prefer not to end up chained to an insane contraption where he has to pick between two gruesome deaths, or glued to the sewer walls and forced to give birth to some chest-bursting alien thing, soooo…
…he decides to settle for ‘a little creeped out’.
The man (he hopes it's a man, of course it's a man get a grip) that speaks is standing in the corner of the room, his arms slack beside him and his body angled so that it’s actually only partially facing him. His head is pitched downwards, off to the side, not looking at Peter.
Okay. Amend that to 'Really creeped out'.
Peter has to physically restrain himself from taking a step back, while simultaneously calling out, “Dude- ….standing still in the dark, eerie corner? Really? What is this, PT? If I blink, will you disappear? Are you going to zap me back in time?"
He realizes he's babbling, but can't control his stupid mouth.
A huff of amusement from the horror movie corner. The man tilts his head slightly, something Peter picks up less by sight and more with his senses. When he’s on edge…it’s insane what the teenager can pick up. He still isn’t completely used to it, if he’s honest.
But since he is (amending again) certifiably creeped out, and is sort of half-expecting something to jump down from the ceiling and attack (he would be lying if he said he didn’t glance up), Peter decides to point his right webshooter at the man and shine his light. The bright red illuminates the man’s suit with a spindling white-web pattern dancing across him, and Peter gets his first glimpse of red eye-glass and maroon horns.
Oh shit.
“…Y-You’re Daredevil.” Peter exhales, his voice going high and he hates that, but what can he do? The color, the horns, the billy club...Daredevil may not be as famous as the Avengers, but he is well-known in Hell’s Kitchen, Midtown, and the surrounding areas as a protector of the people. Kind of like Spider-Man, but way edgier and a hell of a lot more brutal.
Peter has no idea how this encounter is going to pan out, so when the maroon and black-clad vigilante takes a step forward, Peter takes a step back, watching him like a hawk. Daredevil seems to pick up on the teen's edginess, and his exposed lips turn upwards slightly.
"That would be correct, and you-" He says, his voice low, but smooth, and…honestly? Slightly captivating. "…Are in the wrong city."
"So what, there's territories now?" Peter asks, despite himself, and bites his lip under his mask when Daredevil steps forward again. Peter matches it, equal parts anxiety and thrill running through him.
"Not officially," the older vigilante answers, tilting his head as he assesses Peter. "But, in a sense, yes. A disturbance happens in my city? I know about it."
Peter is going out of his mind trying to figure out if he's about to get in a fight with Daredevil right now. His heart rate kicks up a notch.
“Relax, kid.” Daredevil says suddenly, as if he can somehow read Peter's mind. Daredevil turns his attention to the man on the ground. “I’m not here for you, I’m here for him.”
Peter turns his head towards the man lying on the ground as Daredevil continues to speak. "Max Houghton, 38, multiple counts of drunk and disorderly, one conviction of domestic violence- spousal abuse -, which he did time for. Countless more, if he hadn't covered his tracks so well. He got out of jail three days ago. Abducted his daughter from school this afternoon and made a break for it."
Well, damn. Peter hadn't even gotten a name. Thanks a lot, Karen. "Where did you get all that?"
"I hear things," Daredevil replies vaguely. Okay.
"Alright, so - "
"What I'm saying is, I can handle it from here," Daredevil says suddenly, turning his head back in the direction of the door, then walking towards that same door.
"What? But what about this guy?"
"He's not going anywhere."
"Okay but what about the little girl? She's still here somewhere," Peter exclaims, remembering that the small figure he must have seen earlier was probably her. Damn it. He kicks himself internally.
"Like I said, I can handle it."
"But I chased this guy all the way over here-"
"-And you left a couple car crashes and a broken wall in your wake so," Daredevil says, turning his head sharply towards Peter. "Look, it's nothing personal. I just prefer to work alone. So-…" He pulls the door open before turning back towards Peter slightly. "You should go."
Peter scoffs and throws up his hands as Daredevil disappears through the door.
"Are all of you guys jerks?" He asks, turning towards the unconscious man on the floor. "Or is it just me? Do you think the costume puts them off?"
{Your apparent adolescence is a more likely cause.} Comes Karen's voice and Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, having forgotten about her.
"Jeez Louise, don't-…don't do that." Peter says, walking up to the unconscious guy. Max. Max Houghton.
{I'm sorry, Peter. I thought you were talking to me.}
"I was talking to him." Peter says, gesturing at Max.
{…That man in unconscious. Both I and Daredevil told you this. Perhaps you have a mild concussion. Running vitals-}
"No-ugh…nevermind, I'm fine." Peter groans, running his hands across the fabric of his mask.
A sudden scream fills the warehouse. Peter jumps again.
"What was that?" the teenager asks. He already knows the answer, even as Karen speaks.
{It appears to be a child's scream.}
Crap.
Peter looks down at the man. Another scream fills the warehouse.
Screw this.
Peter points his wrist at the man, showering him with a blanket of webbing, before taking off towards the door and heading after the scream.
"Hey-…wait! Shit…"
The wall crawler makes his way across the warehouse, carefully adhered to the ceiling. Peter barely picks up the dark form of Daredevil diving down towards a pile of crates and machinery. There's a clang of the man's body against the metal. Around them, the air is cold and damp, and Peter can smell the musty scent of old, rotted wood and moss. He waits for a second, learning over the past few weeks that sometimes diving in to these situations headfirst can end up putting you in more trouble.
There's another scream, nearer, but muffled. Coming from wherever Daredevil had dove.
"Come on, kid…gimme just…a little break here."
Peter takes that moment to shoot a web at the ceiling and glide down to the floor, giving him a better vantage point.
"What're you still doing here?" Daredevil grunts, as he pushes against one of the crates. Unfortunately, it doesn't budge.
Peter is surprised Daredevil places him. He could have sworn he hadn't made a sound… "Uh."
"I told you to leave," The man says, giving up and crouching down towards the hole. There's a pile of machinery and crates someone must have dumped here long ago, but there's a crevice just big enough for a skinny kid, or a toddle, to squeeze through. He can barely make out the little girl crouched back there, and he can definitely make out the quiet sobbing.
Daredevil waits for a moment, calm, and patient, then slides back towards the opening, reaching out a hand towards the little girl. "Erica, come on now, I'm not gonna-"
He's cut off by another scream, as Erica scrambles back against the wall, unable to actually go anywhere.
"She's scared of you," Peter remarks, and though he can't see Daredevil roll his eyes, the teenager can practically feel it.
"Astute observation," comes the reply. "Listen, kid-"
"You knocked out her Dad, and you're dressed like a demon," Peter presses, crouching down and crawling up to Daredevil, careful to stay out of sight. "I mean, no offense, but your mask is a little…" He waves his hand in front of his own mask.
Realization dawns on the lower half of Daredevil's face, his lips parting as he nods. "Ah, damnit." He seems to think for a moment, before turning to Peter and saying with a chuckle, "Is it really that creepy?"
"Have you seen yourself?" Peter asks, an eyebrow cocked under his mask.
He is answered with a simple laugh, like the man is amused at an inside joke he has with himself, and Peter is slightly baffled. "Well, we can't leave her in there, so."
"Let me," Peter says instantly. "Kids love me!"
"Uh-huh." The tone Daredevil uses makes Peter think he doesn't really believe him, or have much faith in him. Wow. That hurts.
"Here, just…uh," Peter starts, crawling forward. For a second he thinks Daredevil will stop him, but the man silently shifts away from the gap between the crates, and Peter replaces him, staring down in to the hole. Erica, she stares at him, wide-eyed.
"Hi, uh- Erica, right? Hey, why don't-"
He is met with a rather shrill scream.
"Wow, that is-…a set of lungs." Peter says, pulling back as Daredevil shakes his head, snorting.
"Oh yeah, kids love you."
"Okay, okaaaay, just-" Peter says, glancing back towards the little girl. She looks absolutely terrified, and Peter really feels bad for her. She can't be more than four or five years old. Trapped in these boxes with nowhere to go, with these crazy people in masks standing at the only exit. After getting kidnapped by her dad and being involved in a crash?
Yeah…he feels terrible.
"Turn around," he tells Daredevil, glancing towards him. "Actually, uh…can you stand…over there?"
"Why?"
"Please just do it, and don't look back, okay?" Peter says.
Daredevil keeps stalk still for a moment, his folded across his chest, before nodding once and turning away from Peter. He walks a couple of steps away, leaving the young hero and Erica alone.
Instantly he turns back towards the hole, putting his hands out as Erica gets ready to scream again. "Whoa, whoa! Hey, wait, I'm not a monster, okay? I'm just a normal guy, see? Watch-"
He glances back at Daredevil, who tenses slightly, but doesn't seem to be moving. Carefully, keeping one eye on the other vigilante the entire time, Peter reaches up and pulls his mask up to his forehead. He angles himself so his back is towards Daredevil as much as it can be. He sticks his face back in the hole, then pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, pointing it so his face is illuminated. Better than the eerie read web shooter light, he decides.
Erica doesn't scream this time, her face contorting in confusions slightly when she sees the human face.
"Yeah, see? No monster, just a person!" Peter says, trying to sound way more joyful than he feels. He smiles at the little girl, then looks around the small space. "Your hideout is super cool. Do you think I could come in there with you?"
"No!" Erica says, folding her arms and pushing herself back against the wall.
"Okay, Okay," Peter says softly. "But why not?"
"You're a bad guy!"
"Me? I'm not a bad guy!" Peter exclaims, but he exaggerates his voice, and the offense in his voice is very obviously fake, his tone higher than usual.
"Yes you are." Erica insists.
"I'm not! Know why?"
"Why?" Erica asks, with a huff of breath.
"Because, I'm----" Peter tries to decide what to say. "----Aaaaan, Avenger! I'm a super hero."
Erica blinks for a moment, staring at him. "…Like Black Widow?"
Yes. Yes! Roll with that!
"Yeah! Exactly like the Black Widow…Uh…in face, I'm her…sidekick?" Peter asks more than states, but he picks up the story anyways. He hears Daredevil shift a little from his spot a couple of feet away, clearly impatient, but he doesn't budge. Embarrassment tinges Peter's cheeks, but you know what? She's a kid, whatever. Sue him! "Yeah, I'm her sidekick. I'm Spider-Man!"
"No, she awready got a si'kick." Erica exclaims, getting to her knees and pretending to shoot a bow and arrow at him, making little "Pew" noises at Peter.
"Awww, Hawkeye?!? Naaaaaaah, I'm better than Hawkeye. I'm like a real spider. I can climb on walls and spin webs."
"Ew." Erica says, but, in a turn of fortune, her lips turn upwards and she giggles.
"Ew?!?" Peter asks, with mock disdain. "Not Ew! It's cool!"
"Ew!" Erica exclaims.
"I can show you! It's awesome!"
"Nuh-uh,"
"Yeah-huh," Peter says back in singsong. "If you come out, I can show you. I'll spin you a….I'll spin you a…" He glances around, seeing a large, metal beam above them. "I'll spin you a swing."
Erica's eyes get wide.
"……………Okay." She says finally, a little bit of apprehension in her voice.
"…I'm going to leave the room, call over the police. You should disappear before they get here," Daredevil says suddenly, softly, as he takes a couple steps away. Peter doesn't turn his head, instead reaching for Erica with his hand as the little girl slowly crawls her way towards him.
"-Meet me by the water tower after."
Peter pulls his mask down just as Erica climbs out, turning his head to look towards the space where the older man was, but he's already gone.
~
Peter's never made a swing before so he has to improvise a little. He gets the single strand attached to the beam and makes a sort of huge loop at the bottom, fanning out so Erica can sit on it, and pushes the little girl until he hears sirens, then the screeching of tires against the asphalt outside.
"Gotta go now," He says to Erica, reaching in to one of his small, sewn-in pockets and pulling out a small piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles a little note with directions to the dad's location and sticks it to the webbing of the swing, then leaps up and grabs hold of the strand. Erica giggles as she sways gently from the momentum of Peter grabbing on. "Be good for the police, okay? They're also super heroes."
"Okay, Bye Bye, Spider-Man!" She says, waving up at him, as Peter climbs backwards up the strand.
Of course, he doesn't leave right away. He stays hidden on the ceiling as the cops pour in to the building, surrounding Erica, swinging happily on the webbing. As soon one of the female police officers crouches down next to Erica and takes her hand, Peter makes a swift exit.
He's nervous about meeting Daredevil at the water tower (which is pretty easy to find). He kind of thinks he's about to get told off, though he doesn’t understand why. He got thee little girl out of the crawl space, right? Sure, he hadn’t left when th man told him to, but he ended up needing help anyays. Peter grimaces, his teeth grinding together. So many of these people and they all seemed o have one thing in common: They hated working wiith other people.
Or at least, they hated working with Spider-Man.
He detaches from his web and lands on the side of the water tower, crouched vertically and in the shadows. Sirens echo in the background, but they are distant, just a part of the constant, discordant soundtrack of New York. Peter waits, having stirred himself in to a bad mood despite te fact that he helped return a little girl to her mom. He should be focused on that. Right?
"Hey."
Peter blinks, glancing down as Daredevil appears from under the metal beams that hold the tower up. Right.
"Hey?" He echoes, with an upward inflection. "No eerie greeting?"
Daredevil shrugs. "Simplicity is a favoritism of mine."
"He said, un-simplistically," Peter retorts, dropping from the water tower to the floor below. Daredevil follows the teenager's movements with interest, though his 'gaze' is never direct. It still creeps Peter out, if he's honest.
"That a feature in your suit, or can you just…do that?" The older man suddenly asks.
That is the first question Daredevil has really asked him this evening, so Peter is a little surprised, not knowing if he should answer truthfully or not. It can’t hurt, can it? "Uhm. I can just…do it."
"Huh…Definitely the weirdest power set I've come across so far." Daredevil decides, folding his arms.
"It's not weird- it's unique," Peter combats, holding up an index finger at the man.
He's rewarded with a chuckle. "Alright, then. Unique. Now-"
"Look, Mr…Daredevil, I know what you're gonna say, and let me just tell you that-"
"Good job."
"-I can totall-what?"
"I said, good job. With the little girl." Daredevil shrugs. "You were right. My costume is, uhm…" He tilts his head down at himself and spreads out his arms slightly. "…Terrifying."
"Very creepy, yeah." Peter agrees instantly.
"And I'm not the best with kids." He finishes. "Combined, I stood little to no chance of getting her to trust me. But you, you did. So."
"Thanks for the assist?" Peter suggests, the grin evident in his voice even to himself.
"Don't push your luck." Daredevil says, frowning. "You're Stark's kid, aren't you?"
"Uh-…what?" Peter's cheeks flush a little, at the implication. It surprises him that Daredevil makes the connection between him and Tony Stark. It surprises him even more that Daredevil assumes the guy is his dad. Is it that obvious, how much Peter had chased him around? "No, he's not my-"
"You were a small-timer until Stark recruited you. Avenger, huh?" Daredevil clarifies. Oh.
Peter coughs, his cheeks burning underneath the mask. "Uh, I mean, I guess. All he did was give me a new suit." His voice cracks a little, slightly higher than normal, and Peter feels even stupider.
Daredevil catches it, or perhaps he had suspected all along, and just took this opportunity to ask. "How old are you?"
"Uh-" He tries to come up with a believable lie. "-nineteen."
A smirk plays across Daredevil's lips. "Ri-ight." He says. He doesn't believe Peter for shit.
Peter sighs, and the familiar frustration that accompanies being underestimated due to his age begins to settle in. You would think he would be over it by now. "Old enough, alright? And I'm not an Avenger. That was just to get the little girl to like me."
"…You're not." Daredevil echoes, a bit of puzzlement in his voice. "So then, what, you and Stark are just friends?"
Beats me, Peter thinks instantly, bitterly. Because, of course, Tony hadn't talked to him since he had turned down his offer. And by 'turned down', he means totally told Tony what he thought the man wanted to hear. Of course he'd love to be an Avenger.
Or, he did.
"…I-...do not know." He replies, sounding lame and knowing it. "I guess he just...saw that I needed an upgrade, and gave it to me."
"…What, like a sponsor?" There appears to be amusement in Daredevil’s voice. But there's a hint of something else there, an edge. Peter can tell it isn't a good edge either.
"Uh-yeah, yeah…like…like a sponsor. Something like that." Peter feels a little deflated. Daredevil is totally judging him right now, isn't he? Damnit. Once, just once, he'd like someone to take him seriously.
"Well, if it's all the same to you, I left a good buddy of mine alone with a another buddy of mine and I'm pretty sure they are going to maul each other so-"
"Look, kid-"
"I'm not a -"
"Spider-Man. This job? The one here, on the ground? A lot harder than you think. Muggers and bank robbers ain't the half of it." Daredevil says firmly.
"I know-" Peter starts defensively.
"You walk in with little to no experience and you're bound to get yourself killed."
"Look, sir, I know what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it, but I don't need you trying to convince me to stop."
"I'm not."
Peter blinks. Oh?
"I'd be a hypocrite if I did," Daredevil said, shrugging. "Plus, I have a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn't listen to me."
Peter smirks underneath his mask. "Probably not."
Daredevil mirrors that smirk, his stance becoming a little more relaxed as he leans up against the rusted supports for the water tower. Peter can tell something changed. Maybe Daredevil has made up his mind about Peter not being a threat, or maybe he's decided to write Peter off. He really wishes he could be taken seriously by at least, well, someone.
There's a bit of silence between them, one that Peter thinks should be a comfortable one, but to him? It just feels awkward. It's cold, the heater is still working, but Peter can feel the slight breeze flow through the fabric of his suit. In the distance, a church bell tolls the top of the hour. Peter can see the time on the lower right corner of his lens display, but he counts the chimes anyways.
"On the off chance that I did, though - try to stop you -" Daredevil starts.
Peter narrows his eye lenses at the man.
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Come again?"
Daredevil unfolds his arms and lets them fan out, gesturing in a way that invites Peter to answer. "Why wouldn't you stop? What reason do you have for being out here, besides, well, the fact that you think you're some hotshot with super powers?"
That hits a nerve and Peter is immediately agitated. "I don't think I'm some 'hotshot'."
"Coulda fooled me."
"I-"
"Just give me an honest answer." Daredevil cuts the teenager off.
This time, Peter actually thinks about it. He gets...well, he gets the impression Daredevil is testing him. Of course he's testing him, everyone is always testing him. And while Peter is pretty tired of all the tests and the "two cents", he doesn't want to blow the man off. He's asking for an honest answer. Peter should give him one.
"Because it's the right thing to do."
"Why?" Daredevil asks immediately, like he anticipated the answer. Peter sighs.
He doesn't want to get in to this. He knows why he does this, but explaining it to others is...tiring. "...Because if I don't, people can get hurt."
"People get hurt every day," Daredevil reasons, his tone casual, nonchalant. It pricks another nerve. "Why do you have to dress up in a showy suit and run around catching bad guys?"
"Probably the same reason you do," Peter retorts.
Daredevil chuckles, though it's a little dark. "....Ah, touché."
There's another moment of strange silence between them. Peter feels a little numb, admitting it to someone else. He hasn't done that yet. Sure, people at school heard about it. Ned actually heard before Peter could tell him. It's been a long time, almost a year, but when he thinks about it it's still as fresh as the day it happened.
"I can handle myself," Peter feels like he needs to say this. Needs to defend himself. "I've handled a lot already."
"Have you, now?" Daredevil asks, and Peter could swear he is raising a brow under the cowl, but he could never be sure.
"Yes!"
"Have you dealt with the mob yet?"
"Uh-...." No. Definitely not. "No, but I've-"
"Have you stumbled across a human trafficking ring?"
Peter bites his lips. He doesn't even know what he'd do if he stumbled across something that...terrible. "...No."
"Seen anyone die?"
"Yes." Peter answers automatically, not needing to hesitate on that one. He snaps his jaw shut at the end of the word, gritting his teeth together. His tone is clipped. "Once."
Daredevil pauses, taking a moment to assess Peter. The teenage can feel his eyes boring a hole right through him, taking his words for what they are and assessing their meaning.
"...I'm sorry to hear that."
For once, Peter doesn't answer. He stays quiet. Suddenly he doesn't feel like talking, he's a little too busy trying to keep his throat from closing up and the tears from falling from his face. Yeah, no, he's not going to break down in front of a super hero he barely knows. But he hadn't expected to talk about...that night, tonight. He likes to stuff it somewhere in the back of his brain and compartmentalize the crap out of that night.
He hears Daredevil shake his head and sigh.
Then chuckle.
"He's right, I am insane," the man mutters to himself as Peter tenses, narrowing his lenses.
"What?" Peter snaps.
"You-…Look, I like to think I can read people pretty well. This is important to you, you don't seem like you're doing this for the Hell of it. You're definitely too young, but-" Daredevil takes a moment to pause, as if he's re-assessing his next words. "…Well..."
Confusion filters across Peter's brain.
"What're you doing tomorrow night?" Daredevil asks, instead of giving Peter an explanation.
"Uh-" Peter doesn't even know what to say to that. "…Are you asking me as a professional or are you asking me on a date?" Witty. Yes, witty is good when confused.
"A date," Daredevil quips back without missing a beat. "Tomorrow. 11pm. Right Here. Wear your best."
"Are you paying?" Peter asks, he can't help it.
Daredevil only smiles.
"Just this once? On me. Welcome to the Big Leagues, kid."