Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter Text
Today was one of Peter's more exhausting days as Spider-Man. Everytime he sat down to take a little breather he heard a new scream or mumbled threat or a car being broken into. Not that he doesn’t love helping people and making the city a little safer, that is like the whole gig as a vigilante, but today he really doesn't have the energy.
It’s just one of those days.
Or maybe he is still sad because his favorite librarian died just a few days ago.
No, he is too aquatainted with death for it to still hurt this much. It has to be his lack of health for sure.
Sitting on the edge of a random roof overlooking West Village he completely zones out, getting lost in his thoughts. Exhaustion, malnutrition and grief creeping up. Peter gets so lost through his senses that he doesn’t hear Wade walking up to him or the many rustling bags he’s carrying. He doesn’t even notice the strong, mouth-watering smell of Mexican food replacing the sickening New York air.
Instead he hears the soft jazz music playing over a private wine tasting, their laughter. A mother trying to sooth her newborn, singing a beautiful lullaby in a language Peter doesn’t know. The overflowing trash cans everywhere always give him a hard time but it’s a chilly night, making it easier. In the summer he can barely stand the smells. The building under him has a rat problem like many in this city. Their little paws scratch through the walls, down in the alleys through the trash and even more in the sewers.
“What’s up buttercup? - Yeah White, he does seem down today, doesn’t he?” Wade announces loudly, violently startling him out of his trance.
“Oh, hey Wade! Oof-” he greets his friends, catching the bag that was lazily tossed his way just shortly before it hit the ground. “Careful!”
Plumping down on the edge next to him he starts digging in one of his own bags. “Well maybe if you wouldn’t be in your little glittery dreamworld then you would have heard me coming. I wasn’t exactly Miss Ex-Russian-super-spy-Natasha Romanoff right now. So what were you daydreaming about? Probably something dirty, right? Yeah you’re always so super innocent and perfect. There is probably a little kinky man behind that mask right?”
Wade suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at him through his mask before rambling on. “Or rainbows and glitter? That probably, too. I actually had the best daydream about rainbows and glitter and ‘Winx’ just the other day. I was really impressed with my daydream abilities, I tell you that. Maybe I should send the showrunners my ideas? No, no they would just steal them for themself without giving credit. I know the industry. You can trust none of those pedos- mmhhm, I love Taco-Tuesdays, that's what keeps me going. That and alcohol!” During his little speech, Peter is sure that he hasn’t breathed even one bit. He has swiftly pulled up his mask to his nose and is now ducking into his first taco.
“Thanks! I’m starving!” Peter exclaims while also drawing up his mask to the bridge of his nose. And if he means ‘starving’ literally, nobody has to know.
He gets a scoff and “When are you not?” in return.
Peter met Wade little over a year ago. Of course with his mask on and only as Spider-Man. He couldn’t risk somebody knowing about him and his miserable life.
It was one of those occasions where he wasn’t fast enough and could only listen to what was happening from afar, hoping he could get there in time to stop the worst of the worst. A guy, reeking of alcohol, sweat and cheap AXE body spray was feeling a teenage girl up in a back alley. She couldn’t be older than 15 years old.
While Screaming and crying out, she managed to pepper spray him just before the situation could escalate even more. When he got there she was crying but fine enough and the man was nowhere to be seen. After making sure the teenager was taking care of Peter followed him through his scent in a bar that made every hair on his body stand, ‘Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls’.
One foot through the door everyone’s attention was directed towards him while his sense almost painfully screamed at him to get the fuck out .
“wowwowWOW! Spidey? Spider-Man? I’m such a huge fan of yours! What are you doing in this stinkhole?” A big hunk of a man in a red suit simular to his but in way better quality was making its way over to him, grabbing his hand and starting to shake it vigorously, “Hey, guys I'm trying to make a friend here. Could you please be on your best behavior for a second here? Please don’t fuck this up for me or else. THANK YOU!”
There were definitely multiple scoffs coming at that from somewhere in the room. Peter’s gloved hand was still being shaken.
He was ushered to sit in a barstool, still under the attention of the room. “So-” The guy in red sat beside him, leaning his head on his hand on the bar, sitting seductively on the barstool. “What are you little cutie-pie doing here? You, my friendly neighborhood SPIDER-MAN-” He looked at the bar man excitedly, almost jumping in his seat. The guy on the other hand locked apathetically at him, borderline done with his life. “-don’t seem the type to dine in this kind of establishment.”
After a short recovery of whatever that welcome was and his hand back to himself he stands again to scan the bar. He wasn’t able to make out the man but he smelled him in here somewhere.
“Oh you know, just friendly neighborhood business. Catching perverts,” he answers lightly, making his way through the, honest to God disgusting smelling room now.
“What?”
“I wasn’t fast enough to catch him but someone in here has felt up a girl who pepper sprayed him about twenty minutes ago. I know you’re in here by the way and I’ll find you. No use in hiding.” Peter announces to the room.
The silence was deafening and the man in red had a whole change in demeanor. His posture had a new type of intensity to it which Peter couldn’t place. He ignored it in favor of continuing his search like a bloodhound.
And eventually he found him. Hiding in a corner behind a guy that was at least four times his own size.
“Ding-ding-ding,” he sing-songs as he sees the red rimmed eyes which seemed only lazily washed and smells the pepper spray all over him. In this kind of bar it was probably seen as a sign of some sort of drug use which didn’t interest anyone as long as they didn’t bother.
Peter grabbed the guy in front of his shirt and unceremoniously pulled him after himself to the exit. He was flailing and shouting and denying it but Peter heard the lies in his heartbeat, smelled the same disgusting scent on him. It was the asshole.
He tried to grab onto a table or someone else startling Peter a little in the new resistance. So he let go and the guy fell to the ground in a heap. Aware that he still holds the bar's attention but doesn’t give shit he steps on the man's wrist and a sickening snap is heard through the quietness followed by a pained scream. Peter took his foot next to drag him further out, ignoring the few kicks some of the patrons of the bar sent the asshole.
Just as he was leaving through the door he hears the man in red again, muttering a stunned “I think I just fell in love.”
He followed him outside and from there on a great friendship began on the base of kicking bad guys asses, food and a common choice in costume color.
After setting some ground rules about killing people Peter began to enjoy the presence of the ever eager mercenary. It was for sure a change of pace in his life back then and he had soaked up every moment of it since then. The friendly banter, the sometimes even violent arguments over the dumbest things and the heart to hearts. Wade had not only been his only friend back then but was actually one of the first real friends he has ever made.
As one of the only four people in Peter's life right now he holds a lot of his trust. Wade doesn’t know that and Peter doesn’t plan on highlighting that fact anytime soon. Wade also doesn’t know his name, face, age or anything about his civilian life really. It’s a great arrangement in Peter’s opinion, not being pressured and just accepted as another guy in a costume, who probably has some kind of mental issues.
“Where is Double-D? Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Peter asks around the taco in his mouth. Bits crumbling all over him.
“Oh it’s only like 10 o’clock,-” Wade explains chewing on his second taco “-so it’ll probably take at least half an hour for him to get here.” Looking down at his Hello Kitty watch he demonstrably nods confirming chippy “Yup! Still half an hour. Why? Do you miss him so much? Your kinky little ‘mentor’.”
“Oh Ok, I thought it was later. Had a busy night and am kinda tired. I’m just not sure if I have the energy for training today,” he explains, ignoring that Deadpool just called Matt his mentor. Not the kinky part. After all, the man voluntarily runs around in a seductive devil costume.
Oh, he was sure that he won’t be able to bring up the energy. Even searching his memory, he doesn’t know when he had a full night's sleep. Even when he has been crashing at his friends' places after patrol and patching up he didn’t sleep his full eight hours. But who doesn't have nightmares? It just is what it is.
Tonight though, all he wanted to do was cuddle up on a nice and comfortable couch or bed, watch a movie and not have to worry about a thing in the world. But Peter couldn’t afford these kinds of luxuries.
Meeting Daredevil was to make it short, interesting. It was definitely a different kind of interesting than meeting Deadpool was but still, interesting.
It wasn’t like he had been avoiding Hell’s Kitchen but he didn’t bother with it as much. Daredevil was known to work there for years now. Protecting this particular part of the city and its citizens like it was the most beautiful place on earth and wanting to preserve its beauty. Peter was more of an allrounder. And even though his journey started in Queens and he still works there a lot, he doesn’t constrict himself to one borough. He fights and protects where the people need him and crime calls him to.
So one night as he was following a gang's transport he found himself in Hell’s Kitchen. He continued to find himself there, staking out, researching and analyzing the people's movements to plan his strike.
All through that he couldn’t get that buzz out of his head telling him he was being watched, even though he couldn’t see or hear anything abnormal.
It followed him even when he attacked the gang who was in the midst of a drug transport. Because of a reason unknown to Peter his plan on entering the facility stealthily hadn’t worked out the way he wanted it to. He had to fight his way through most guards instead of first securing the people in charge before capturing the goons. It was annoying and tedious and he had almost lost his main target because of it. And the stupid buzz telling him he was still watched didn’t help one bit.
Just as he webbed up the last few people he spotted him. On the ledge of the roof opposite of the building he was sitting. Legs swinging back and forth a little while watching him. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
Peter had ignored him as he called the police from one of the guys’ phones and took his leave.
He knew Daredevil still followed his every move so after swinging a few blocks away and landing on a secure enough rooftop Peter decided to wait for him. It didn’t even take him five minutes to stand in front of Peter in his full-glory, red horned suit.
“Thanks for the help.” The sarcasm practically dripped out of Peter.
Normally he would have been losing his shit over meeting a fellow vigilante and a well known one like Daredevil but he was tired and absolutely annoyed. The buzz in his neck finally vanished and just then did he notice how it was a constant pressure these last days.
“Your hand-to-hand technique is shit. Good research though. Would have been smooth if that one guy didn’t take so long to use the toilet.”
Oh and he even had a stupid smirk on his face while saying it. But it explained why his entrance was noticed so soon.
“You have been following me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“So you’re not going to tell me why you followed me around like a stalker or didn’t help take them down?”
There were a few feet between them. It didn’t seem like the man had hostile intentions but Peter was on edge. Careful with his judgment around new unknown people. The media painted a torn picture of both of them and he wanted to make his own but you can never be too careful.
“I wanted to know what you’re capable of. Also what your intentions are,” he answered nonchalantly.
“And your conclusion is?” He asked equal parts annoyed and curious.
“Your hand-to-hand is shit.”
The man’s head tilted to the side as if listening to something before asking rather stressed, “How old are you?”
Peter scoffed. Yeah he was young, too young but it was none of his business. “Old enough.”
“Your heart-” he starts but Peter cuts him right off.
“-is all messed up from when I got my enhancements. I know it’s abnormally fast.” After a beat of silence he startles. “Wait- You can hear my heartbeat?”
The Devil seemed unsure how to react before simply affirming.
Peter on the other hand lost his chill and annoyance at the lack of help completely. He jumped on the spot, beaming under his mask. “Oh my God- this is the best day ever. How far is your reach? Can you also hear like your organs and injuries and stuff? Is it just our hearing or also your other senses? How do you deal with it when it gets too loud or like you can’t focus on the right noises? Does your head also feel like splitting open sometimes ‘cause you don’t know how to deal with all the shit you hear or get nauseous? Wow, I can’t believe it. This is so cool. Since when do you have heightened hearing? Do you-”
Daredevil interrupted his overexcited rambling and Peter sucked in the air he didn’t breathe at all through all of that while he asked, “Spider-Man-” He was tentative, careful but with hope in his voice. “-are you saying that you have also heightened sense?”
“Yeah dude! Oh man, we have so much to talk about. How about coffee? I’m in a coffee kinda mood.”
That fun little interaction started regular training days on tuesdays. Sparring as well as tips and training for his senses as the man was much more experienced in both categories.
Soon Deadpool found out that Spider-Man gained Daredevil as his ‘mentor’ (Peter doesn’t like the word. They are friends.) and crashed in with tacos exclaiming that it's now to be called ‘Taco-Tuesday’. DD or Double-D, as Peter liked to call him, then continued to throw Deadpool off the roof a few times.
That’s how Team-Red started. Joining each other on parols, training, stitching each other up or hanging out and eating. Even if Daredevil liked to deny it, they became good friends over time even without knowing who’s behind their masks. The news, especially the Daily Bugle, had a blast with pictures of them three sitting on a roof eating tacos.
Not that anyone cares.
Eventually Matt’s as well as Wade’s masks came off. But they thankfully didn’t push Peter.
“Oh Spidey, who bugged you”, while winking, “Who do I have to unalive”
“No one DP! We talked about this. No unaliving while we hang out … or in general. Just stop killing people!”
“But where would all this nice money come from to buy these delicious tacos?” He shot back whilst munching on another one, smiling widely.
“You know what I mean!” He shook his head disapprovingly. “But thanks anyway, You know you don’t have to bring food all the time, do you?” That he said not all honestly, aware that this is his main source of food on tuesdays.
“But my cute little bug needs his food. Maybe you will grow a few more inches'' responds suggestively but with a shit eating grin non the less.
Whacking Deadpool in the side he huffs, “Not everyone needs to be what 6ft2? Being small is actually really helpful as Spider-Man.”
Thinking about it, it would be much harder to dotch blows and he would be slower if he was taller. Being as small as he is great for Spider-Manning, maybe not so much for Peter, but he isn’t needed, Spider-Man is. “Besides, I'm not small. I’m fun-size.”
“6ft2 and a half,” responded with a grin, because sure, that half makes the big difference.
”Yeah, yeah, but you're still the most adorable little-bean who I just have to stuff with food. It’s my way to show my love.” The hand lifting another taco to his mouth stopped midway. Wade froze beside him before gasping loudly and exclaiming hysterically, “Unless you don’t want my love?”
Deadpool rambled on after he brushed away a fake tear about the latest gossip, sometimes throwing a story about a crazy injury in there for good measure.
“So what are we gonna do instead? I mean we can always go to my place.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Spider-Man in a suggestive way. “Or we can go to yours. I would love to know how my webhead buddy lives.”
He then proceeds to take Peter’s face in between the palms of his hands and squeeze which Peter promptly squats away and playfully shoves Deadpool. “Will I ever know more about my bestest friend?” Wade loved being overdramatic and Peter knew there was no real pressure behind the question.
“You really think you’re Spider-Man’s best friend?” Neither of them heard Daredevil coming and both jumped at his sudden appearance.
“Well, it’s definitely not you.” Wade countered. “You have the whole mentor vibe going on. You can’t be someone's mentor and best friend.” He stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
In the meantime Daredevil took his own seat on the ledge beside the mercenary and helped himself to some of the leftover food. “I’m just saying that Spidey here probably has some friends in his civilian life. I do.”
The turn Deadpool took to look at Peter would have given any normal human whiplash. He gasped again, “You have other friends? Are you cheating on our friendship?”
Peter didn’t have other friends. He had acquaintances but he doesn’t count them just because he occasionally gets food from them.
He couldn’t admit that he had literally zero people besides the ones he knew as Spider-Man so he lied by omission. “Of course I have other friends than you two.” It was still a lie. He had two other friends (as Spider-Man). “Well, two really good friends and the others are just people I know, acquaintances. And Clint and Frank.” Good enough. They don’t need to know that Clint and Frank were those other friends.
“What I hear is that I am your bestest friend in the-” his arms are widely stretched out, bumping into the other two “whooole wide world!”
Daredevil decided that this conversation is over and changed the topic. “Are we gonna stay here for training or should we go somewhere else?”
He stood, stretched his arms out over his head and heard a satisfying pop from his back. Peter snickered at Matt’s scrunched up face and high fived Wade for it.
“I’m actually kinda tired. But I’m so down to annoy Mahoney or something like that instead of training.”
A wicked grin spread on the visible part of Matt’s face and he suggested cheekily, “Do we still have those trick arrows Clint forgot to take home? How about a little decoration of the precinct with that?”
“DD- I could kiss you right now.” Wade exclaims excitedly. “How about we do it, yeah? Come on, just one little peck.”
As he leans over, lips sticking out in perfect middle school first kiss manner, only to be punched away by the man and safed by a web shot out from Peter before he could fall off the side of the building. Peter unceremoniously flung him back up, Wade screeching all the way till he hits the rooftop face on with an ompf .
At this point Matt is cackling like a mad man and Peter has trouble containing himself either.
His laughter is cut off by Wade grabbing him, flinging himself over his shoulder and purposefully swinging him into the fire escape while making his way down to the street.
“I don’t deserve this! I saved you! Wade st- Uh-” He cuts himself off as he hits yet another metal rod with his side. Matt is losing it completely, barely able to follow them down the building.
They had gathered all the trick arrowheads they could find from both Matt’s apartment and Wade’s closest safehouse. Peter, sitting up on Wade’s shoulders, was trying to figure out which had which purpose. They looked similar but Clint had explained some of them to him one quiet night a few weeks ago.
DP and Matt discussed famous assassinations and if hydra, through the winter soldier were responsible for them. No light topic and the demenours heated up so Peter stayed out of it. Not like he didn’t have a task at hand anyway.
Clint wasn’t a part of Team Red but a close friend to all of them to join them often either individually or as a whole group. Like an honorary member. Same with Frank Castle.
He had met the archer maybe a month after Team Red started to be a regular thing.
It was a rainy night and he had a knife in his shoulder. Peter hated everything and everyone right now. All he wanted was someone to stitch him up and a shower. So he went to Matt’s. Because today was just not a day where he wanted to fish a knife out of himself on his own.
He entered his apartment through the rooftop access. If he hadn’t lost as much blood as he had already or if he had been a little less exhausted he’d probably have noticed that the door was already unlocked and another man, not Matt, was present in the apartment.
That’s how he found himself at the bottom of the staircase, looking at a man sitting on the couch who was concentrating on stitching up his right thigh and a bloody knife on the couch table.
‘Well this is embarrassing’ he thought to himself. But judging the way the man stood a moment later with the knife, that was most definitely in his thigh not long ago, in a fighting stance, he had said it out loud.
That was the first time that the guy's face became really visible for Peter and he lost his cool completely just a second later. “Oh my God- You’re Hawkeye. Clint Barton. WOW, wow. It’s so nice to meet you, sir. Such a huge fan. Oh wow, is that your bow? So cool!” He pointed to the bow and arrows leaning beside him against the couch.
He was still in position to attack and growled, “Who are you?” at him.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. How rude of me. I’m Spider-Man. I’m friends with- the guy who lives here. I just wanted to use his medkid or him to stitch me up. You know how it is.” He gestures to Hawkeye's leg. The man settled down into the couch again and resumed his stitches where he had left off.
“Spider-Man, yeah, the guy who lives here told me about you. You are friends with him, too, right?”
“Yeah.” Peter hovered awkwardly beside the couch not really knowing what to do.
“I wanted to meet you but he said something about you and Deadpool being too much of a pain in his ass already. Come on. I’ll help you with that.”
As Peter sat beside him Clint put a bandage over the wound in his leg before turning to really look at the shoulder injury. His face split into amazement. “Oh wow, that’s a really nice knife.”
“I know right? He wanted to pull it back out but I punched him unconscious first so I could keep it. I’m starting a collection with all the cool stuff I get from patrol. May I ask how you got stabbed, Mr. Barton.”
“Oh drop that shit. Call me Clint or I’m ‘a steal your knife.”
Peter was vibrating the whole time talking to an actual Avenger. All the tiredness forgotten.
Matt found them two hours later after his own patrol, sitting on the couch, freshly showered, bandaged and in his clothes with his beer in hand, chatting. He probably smelled the fresh bloodstains all over his furniture and the still bloody knives on his table. Matt had just sighed, gotten his own beer and joined them.
Tonight they were gonna make the man regret being friends with them, but well, he should be used to that by now, too.
His mouth pressed into a line, eyebrows furrowed under his mask in concentration until, click - “Ha!”
That interrupted the discussion downstairs as both men turned to him in spiked interest.
“I managed to put the glitter and some of my webfluid in the bomb-arrow. It won’t- I think it won’t destroy anything while exploding. Just make it- shiny ” Peter breathed the last word in excitement.
Wade lifted him off his shoulder like a toddler even though he had warned the man often enough to not do that. Well, he will suffer later for it.
“So now you tinker with explosives right next to my head? Do you want to tell me how I’m supposed to read that, Webs?”
Peter snorted at Wade’s comment and didn’t dignify it with an answer. Instead he walked over to the edge of the building they had walked him to, to look at the 15th precinct on the other side of the street.
“Do you have the prob-arrow?”
Matt waved it around in a silent affirmation.
Logically people should know that an explosive arrow isn’t intact after detonating but in all their vigilante careers they were proven time and time again how fucking stupid the police can be. Brett will most definitely know it was them but to the media people who, who would have thought, are even dumber than their friends in blue, wouldn't.
They all were regularly slandered in the press so Peter wasn’t too worried about Clint’s reputation being on the line with this number. Plus, the man has Mrs. Potts PR people on speed dial to deal with that stuff for him.
The plan was simple. Peter would first throw the glitter bomb arrow head at the building, making it explode and the glittered web stick to approximitaly a quarter of it, covering several windows as well as the banner promoting jobs in the force. After he will throw the arrow at the building to visibly stick out and connect the incident to the archer.
What he didn’t expect was the size of the explosion. Neither were Matt and DP as Matt visibly flinched at the detonation by his side where he had startled, too. Peter couldn’t see Wade’s face but he knew that it was split into the widest most excited grin. What he could see was the man hopping excitedly on the spot, arms spread wide and with a manic laughter filling the silent aftershock of the explosion.
Instead of a quarter, about two thirds of the building were now covered in sparkling, pink web gunk.
“Spidey,-” Matt bodily turned to him. “What was that?”
Peter had a real hard time to contain the snort about to break out of his chest and just threw the arrow at the building. He was weirdly pleased and proud of his work but also petrified because what the fuck did he do to this arrow to make whatever this mess is.
“Oh, just the most beautiful work he did so far. WOW! I wish I had my camera. This is a-fucking-mazing. Clint is gonna kill you but, wow-” Wade gushed.
People started to trickle out of the building standing in front of the mess. In the middle of it all their favorite Detective. And just as Brett Mahoney, the man of the hour, was about to look up to the roof they were standing on, Peter grabbed his teammates and bodily pulled back and out of the line of sight.
“I really think we should go,” he stressed, hysterically chuckeling.
Yeah, Clint is so going to kill him.
The way back to his ‘place’ always took a lot longer for him than it actually should. Stopping a crime or two on the way and taking an excessively complicated route to lose potential pursuers just took time. Someone could call him paranoid but no matter the intent, good or bad, no one could know where he lived.
He landed on a roof in Brooklyn Heights. Not a safe place but it’s not like he has to worry about these things that much. Peter quickly changes the clothes from underneath the suit to over, continues to climb down the fire escape and starts his walk to the warehouse he currently houses.
It’s one of two in the case he feels followed, he is more likely to lose their tail on the way to Queens. And if he still isn’t able to shake them they won’t find the few personal belongings he could keep safe over the years that are at this location.
The Warehouse is abandoned except for a few fellow homeless people living on the ground floors. No one is able to reach the top floors. Peter made sure to destroy every staircase and fire escape that was still intact when he first found it.
After making sure that no one saw him and his spider-sense hadn’t had his ‘someone’s watching you’ buzz he swiftly climbs the wall to a window near the top and jumps in. A few rooms down the hall was his ‘bedroom’ with a window that was firmly closed with wood. He always blocks the door with a board so the light wasn’t seen through any of the windows in the other rooms so that nobody would suspect someone living there.
Obviously there wasn’t a lot in his possession. He had a little table with electronics that he tinkered with but couldn’t actually use much because of the lack of electricity.
The gascooker and the few batteries he had were only used on special occasions and thoughtfully used and taken care of. He ate cold most of the time anyway.
Some books he had found are piled in a corner next to a few water bottles and some items for personal hygiene. Which wasn’t much either. Just a bar of soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush and a small plastic bowl he uses to wash himself and his wounds.
The medical supplies were definitely the most expensive stuff he owned and only used if strictly necessary. Luckily, if he came to that point he could usually just turn up at either his friends or Claire’s place for them to help him.
Nobody should call it a bed but the big pile of clothes, various fabrics and old cushions is his bed and only source of heat for the night.
Peter just flopped down into the pile and wrapped himself under it, just now noticing how dead on his feet he really is. Before he closes his eyes he sees what he sees almost every night before sleeping, a picture of Ben, May and him. It is years old by now and his only valuable that he treasures with all his might. Smiling to himself, imaging himself there with them on that sunny day again, their comfort and love, he falls asleep.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Notes:
*Trigger Warning*
underage drinking, (little) violenceHello, hello,
I felt very motivated to post which is why you get the second chapter already. (Don’t expect it to go at this pace.)
Just so you know, this will be a lot of just stuff that happens to Peter all the time and he will get hurt. A lot. Because, we all know, he can be a bit of an idiot.Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Please leave any kind of comments.
Have fun reading!
Chapter Text
Peter has been homeless for over a year at this point. There was a lot leading up for Peter to make the decision but it would only take so long for his foster dad to act on those hungry eyes or the lingering touches he sent him. Sometimes he can still feel his hand on his lower back, forearm or knee just staying for a bit too long.
One day Peter packed his stuff, took two blankets, a bit of food and money and left. There were a few places authorities would definitely take notice of a small teenager so he avoided those. So homeless shelters and his school were off the list of possible places to stay. The first few nights he slept on rooftops until he noticed that it’s safer to stay up the night and sleep during the daytime. It also came in handy with his Spider-Manning. After a few times on park benches he looked into some more permanent places. Going on from there he spent his first winter in a homeless community near the Bronx. It was okay there. He was getting by but then in spring most of his stuff got stolen. In his books that was a sign that he was getting too comfortable so he packed whatever was left and found the warehouse he was currently using.
It was nearly December and Peter woke up with stiff limbs from the cold night. It was still morning. He could tell by the sounds of morning rush hour, the smell of coffee out of most apartments and the few birds he was able to hear.
His day’s were probably more structured than most homeless people. The mornings he mostly spent sleeping in, because of long nights of parole. The public libraries were a huge welcome to cold winter days or burning hot summers. He could spend hours and hours reading every book he could find. The personnel were well aware of him and always laid back a few of the new scientific books they got in for him to read first. The afternoons were either that, sitting in libraries reading, gathering intel around town or tutoring a kid.
No one wanted to hire him. He looked younger than most people his age so he couldn’t lie about being 18 or even 16.
He found his job in a more unconventional way. One night on parole he was stabbed. That itself wasn’t unusual but that it bothered him as much as it did definitely was. The blood loss, dehydration and whatever lack came as a malnutritioned homeless person caused him to get lost on his way to the warehouse.
Suddenly this big beefy guy stood in front of him. Ha, you look like Wade but grumpy, was all Peter thought, which looking back on it, is fucking irresponsible.
“Where do you think you're going,” demanded the mountain of a man.
“Home?”
Following the, “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he was grabbed by the collar and yanked into the nearest building. Peter was way too tired for this but as he forced himself to pay a bit more attention to his potentially dangerous surroundings he noticed being in one of the buildings of a local gang, the Mexicans, which were on one of his watchlists as Spider-Man. There was a gun pointed at him however he wasn’t able to bring up any energy to care. Maybe the stab wound was worse than I thought, he reflected while being manhandled into a backroom.
“Who’s that,” questioned a new guy. Definitely his boss considering his clothes and presence in the room. His face showed no real interest in him or why he was bought there.
“He was circling the area.”
“What’s your name?” he asked Peter now directly.
“Why do you care?” It was way too late for this kind of shit.
His face fluttered into interest just shortly, “A resilient one, I see. So what are you doing here? Who sent you?”
“I’m just on my way home. I’m kind of really tired and got lost,” Peter answered honestly and man, he was so damn done with everything. He can’t highlight that enough.
“Bullshit! You walked around the same three blocks over and over again!'' The beefy guy interrupts their conversation now super aggravated. Like, chill dude, I don’t even know what’s going on .
The boss-man gestured to his goon like See. You wanna explain yourself?
“Come on,” he groaned, “I lost a lot of blood and I don’t really care what you do here, like at all. I’m just trying to go home and get some sleep.” That explanation raised some eyebrows around the room.
“Peter?” That was something he didn’t wanna hear. All blood drained from his face after turning and seeing his old classmate. Well, at least he was awake now thanks to the panic spiking in his chest. Just his luck.
“Chris! What are you doing up? How do you know this boy?” The boss-man, no boss-father(?), asked loudly.
Christoph was just staring right at Peter. “He was in my class before he disappeared a couple months ago. What happened?” The question didn’t sound genuine but suspicious. Maybe it comes with the family business.
“Oh so you know this boy?”
“Not really. He never really talked with anyone, but he’s like super smart. Straight A’s without even paying attention in class,” He kinda sounded sincere. That was new for Peter. He thought no one noticed him in his time there.
“Oh a smart boy?” Looking at Peter again, “Why don’t you just say the truth then? Why were you circling our territory?”
“For fucksake,” Peter muttered and lifted his shirt up so they could see his bloody bandages, “As I said, I lost some blood and am a bit woozy. I’m just trying to get home” He put his shirt back down. “If you would please let me go, I will gladly never come back!”
“WOW, what happened?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Peter rolled his eyes.
“Maybe we can hang out sometime? You're still good at math, right? Maybe you could help me sometime and you tell me why you just vanished and Dad will let you leave.”
That was pretty much it. After talking a bit back and forth he started to teach Chris. He got a bit of cash and snacks during the tutoring sessions and he could use the bathroom whenever he wanted.
He wasn’t sure how exactly he got to be a family friend but he wasn’t complaining about the money and protection that came with frequenting their buildings. Only the family in charge, the Méndez', knew his name so he couldn’t be charged as an accessory if they got busted somehow but basically everybody knew him and that they got problems coming their way if they sought trouble with him.
Telling himself that he gave the kid perspective and possibilities outside of the family business was how he justified working in those circles but also targeting them as Spider-Man. And yes, maybe he turned a blind eye every now and then, but everyone in his position would. Not like he didn’t stop their bigger shit anyway.
This afternoon he had his tutoring session with Christoph, who, and Peter will take all the credit for that, turned his D into a B since they started. But before that he will go to his favorite library, the one near the 96th. Were Ms. Jenn had worked.
After Ms. Jenn’s death he got even more quiet and he wouldn’t be surprised if some of the other workers thought he turned mute. If it wasn’t strictly necessary he decided to not talk at all. Over time he understood that people didn’t want him to speak if not asked so he didn’t.
Who would want a homeless teen to voice their opinions anyway? No one.
On the long walk, there was no way he was wasting the bit of web fluid that he had, he got lost in his thoughts. Like most days he thought about Ben and May and what they would be doing right now. May would be at work, caring for patients, always with a smile on her face to make it as comfortable for them as possible. Or she would be sleeping at home after a night shift.
Uncle Ben always told him the craziest stories from his daily work as a police officer. To be honest, back then Peter only believed him half the stuff he told as some things just seemed too incredible to have actually happened.
Now that he is out daily, fighting crime on his own, he knows that they were true. Never underestimate New York City’s ability to shock you. Everything was possible here. The insane situations people could end up in or create on their own, the tragic affairs or beautiful acts of kindness.
Both Ben and May were heros. Always seeing the good in people, trying to help even if it wasn’t their responsibility. Everyday he craved and aspired to be as good as them.
He knew deep down that he could never achieve that goal no matter what he did as Spider-Man or as Peter. Their death was his fault and that blood and the guilt that came with it could never be wiped away. All the bad that happened to him as Peter happened for a reason. Because of his wrong-doings they were dead and everything that came after was the karma he deserved.
At least that's what Peter told himself. He still heard the shots that fell that night in every garbage can that falls over, every book that gets dropped accidentally or fireworks in the city.
He knew what PTSD was and knows that he probably has it, but what is he supposed to do about it? Go to therapy?
Peter scoffed at the thought. With what money?
When he reached the library he pulled his hood a little bit deeper into his face not wanting the people he knew there to see him this dirty. There was only so much you can do washing yourself under faunclets in public bathrooms. That he could shower after patrol at either of his friends' places sometime was a great relief.
He’ll use the bathroom to wash himself today, too. That’s also why he packed his soap bar to take with him.
And after there was a book about advanced chemistry waiting for him.
Why or how he was Frank Castle’s favorite person in the vigilante community? Peter doesn’t know. What he does know is that he was the closest person who could help him right now.
On his way home he stumbled upon two young women who were desperately and unsuccessfully trying to defend themself against five guys trying to assault them. All of them had the lingering smell of alcohol on them and the guys probably followed their victims out of a bar.
Peter made quick process of them after he dropped down into the alley. It was just as he called the police with one of the women's phones and when he tried to calm them down a bit, talking to them, that one of the men regained consciousness behind them. He was so focused on the wellbeing of the woman, checking for any injuries that he noticed him too late.
The buzz in his neck spiked and he was able to throw himself in front of the knife just before it hit the blonde by his side. Peter threw his elbow back hard enough for the man to lose his grip on the knife and double over in pain, where he met him in the side of his stomach. Another punch to the head later and the guy was out cold this time.
He ignored the knife in his back for the moment to check on the woman again. Both were pale as paper and the blonde one looked a little green around the edges, too. A shaky and teary eyed thank you later he heard the police coming around the corner. He pulled the blonde and her redhead friend to the entrance of the alley and told them he’d wait close by until the police got to them.
Now that his friends in blue were doing their work, Peter remembered the knife in his back. It wasn’t deep and thankfully missed anything important, but it was a horrible angle, one he could reach normally but not now without possibly hurting himself more in the process.
He sat there for about another minute mulling his head over where to go, if to go to anyone and ask for help or just go home in hope for the best. Wade was out of town and Matt had an important court-thing in the morning, he didn’t want to disrupt his sleep for once.
When he took a look around he remembered a very grumpy murderer who had one of his safe houses not too far away. This person didn’t know that Peter knew about most of his safe houses and hide outs, but what was Peter supposed to do with all his free time? It’s similar to the way he kept taps on Wade’s places.
It wasn’t far, but the pace in which he had to move across the rooftops was excruciatingly slow. It’s just that the knife poked a little close to his right kidney for comfort, so he tried to not aggravate it too much. The blood loss wasn’t too bad, but if he didn’t stop it soon it would become a problem.
The closer he got to the building the more excited he got because Frank was actually there. Peter had just hoped to use the medkit and the mirror in the bathroom but to have an actual person deal with it made it so much easier.
Peter climbed down the fire escape until he was in front of the man’s window and took a second to think about how to approach. If he just got inside he was probably gonna get shot and he didn’t want to deal with both a knife and a bullet wound.
No, thank you. No breaking in.
It felt weird to just knock on the window, but he didn’t really know what else to do.
A few knocks later he heard Frank get up from his cot, gun in hand and slowly walking over to the window in a dead angle where Peter couldn’t see him. He was sitting at a weird angle on the fire escape, too, trying to stay out of the line of fire.
He knocked again and the footsteps came to a halt a few steps away from him. Peter then, in hopes the man could hear him through the closed window, said “Hey, it’s Spider-Man. Frank, can I please come in?”
He heard a soft scoff and the soldier closing in the last few feet to the window. His gun was still in his hand when he opened the window, probably in case someone followed Peter or he wasn’t who he said he was.
When he climbed through the window the man looked more than annoyed at him, a deadly glimmer in his eyes which was impressive for him standing there in just boxer shorts.
Peter quickly tried to defuse the tension in the man “Hey, sorry. I really didn’t want to bother you and I’m tired myself but there were these guys who were harassing these women. I swooped in and helped ‘cause what else would I do. Yeah and that one guy felt a little stabby tonight and-”
Frank cut him off, his gun put on a nearby table and the man now walking over to the window to close it, “You’ve been stabbed?”
He has been following the man’s movements and always stood with his front to him, which was an unconscious and polite thing to do, talking to people facing them.
Peter answered with too many words, like always, “Yeah, I noticed too late that he wasn’t unconscious anymore. That guy was a real backstabber, ha- you get it- backstabber-” he said, turning a bit, showing the man the knife in his back. He continued unbothered, “I knew your place was close by and I just wanted to use some of your stuff and the mirror but now that you are here, could you maybe-” he trailed off in the end, unsure.
The man in front of him released a deep sigh and gestured to the bathroom where he met him again a minute later, this time with clothes on and a med kit in hand.
“How do you know about this place?” he asked as he put on gloves and prepared a sucering kit.
Peter sat on the closed toilet, his mask now up till the bridge of his nose. “I know where most of your places are. You and your stuff have a very distinctive smell-” He got a scoff for that. “-and I keep tabs on you. I figure you do that with people like Double-D or Wade, too.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re annoyed ‘cause you don’t know where I live right?”
The silence was answer enough. Frank didn’t respond and just cut the clothes up to the we're the knife poked out of his back.
Internally, a weight lifted off Peter with the knowledge that his secret was still, you know, a secret.
He tried to ease the man up a bit as he was about to give him medical attention and Peter didn’t really want to give Frank another reason to be in an even worse mood. “I’m pretty sure I don’t know all your places and I would never tell Double-D or DP or Hawkeye or anyone about them. The same way I would not tell you about theirs. Not sure how much it means to you, but you can trust me.”
He gritted his teeth when Frank took the knife out of back. A firm hand on his shoulder kept him upright and the other quickly pressed a cloth? A towel? Something over the openly bleeding wound.
Peter talked through the pain, trying to distract himself, “I’m sorry to bother you. Normally, when I can’t do it myself I go to Wade, but he is out of town or Matt but he has court tomorrow and he, like really needs the sleep. I mean I’m not a poster boy for health or good life choices but that man is a walking disaster.”
That made the man behind him who was currently cleaning the wound with saline water scoff amused and Peter felt pride grow in his chest. “Did I tell you about the time where he fainted mid-fight ‘cause he didn’t eat enough?”
Peter barked a laugh, “Really? He fainted?”
“Yeah. He was lucky it was me he was trying to beat up. Imagine that happening to him in an actual fight. I threw him across the roof, he got up, swayed and bam - fell straight to the ground again,” he explained, the amusement clear in his voice. “Got real pissy when I refused to fight him the next time. Was hilarious when I threw a snackbar at him. Looked like he ‘s havin’ a stroke.”
“Did he eat it?” Peter’s chuckled, trying not to move too much as Frank’s now worked the needle through his skin.
Another huff of air later he answers “He must have taken it with him ‘cause it wasn’t on the roof anymore when he left.”
He grinned to himself, tried to conceal a hiss at a particular uncomfortable place the needle nicked.
“Wade and I coax him to sleep a lot. I force him to patch me up after we go out together even though it wouldn’t need anything more than a bandage. Wade makes tea and we talk about stuff on the couch. We speak all calm and low until he falls asleep, distract him from all the noises you know. Sometimes he isn’t all there, gets hurt even though he could have avoided it. I think he’s trying but-”
“He is a stubborn asshole who disregards his own health for everything and everybody around him,” Frank said with displeasure but Peter could hear the underlying worry in his tone.
“Yeah,” was all he could reply.
And with that Frank put a bandage over the stiches. Peter took off the now bloodied and cut pieces of clothing completely, not just holding them up and out of the way for Frank to work on his injury. He inspected them. It wasn’t too bad. The blood was still fresh so he could clean it out and sewing them wouldn’t be a problem either.
He still had healing bruises, varying colors from blue to yellow all over his torso that were now in clear view for Frank who’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight.
“You good there,” he asked though it sounded more of a statement, gesturing shortly to him.
Peter looked down dumbly at his state. It wasn’t that bad. He even ate more the last few days so he didn’t appear too thin. His ribs were broken a few days ago, but mostly good now. “I’m fine. My web shooters jammed in a fight. Had to do it hand to hand. Around twenty guys or so.”
“The docks’ thing?” Frank interrupted.
“Yeah.” The man hummed. “The docks.”
They both left the bathroom after Peter drenched his clothes in cold water in the sink. Frank threw a hoodie at him and Peter sank into the ratty couch, drowning in the piece of clothing he got. A beer appeared in his line of vision a minute later and he took it with a smiling thanks .
There was a comfortable silence between them and the tiredness of the day catched up to him. He blinked a few times to not fall asleep right then and there with a half full bottle of beer in his hand and looked around instead.
The apartment wasn’t big. A stuffy little place with stained wallpaper coming off the walls. He spotted a cot through the open door leading into another room and duffle by its side. There was a table with papers, a map and a turned off police radio. There were some cases on the wall beside the couch, filled with weapons and ammunition, he concluded as he smelled the metal, oil and gunpowder. Frank sat on a chair near the little kitchenette with not much more than a coffee pot, a fridge and a sink.
This wasn’t one of the soldiers main places, he figured from the little stuff all around and probably acted as a safe house to lay low for a few days or if another space was compromised.
It was a million times better than his place as it was an actual apartment with running water and electricity and not an abandoned warehouse but he couldn’t stop himself from the sarcastic sidemark. “Nice place you got here.”
Frank huffed, “What not good enough for you? Probably live in a nice apartment in a good neighborhood. Mommy and daddy help you with the rent.”
Peter knew this was his way to find out more about the man behind the mask but Peter didn’t really care. He wasn’t gonna slip up like this so he shrugged and replied a non committal “Nah- my parents are dead. I’m an orphan. Piss poor, too.” Stuff which couldn't be connected to him anyway.
That got a quirk in eyebrow from the soldier. “What, can’t keep a job explaining all the injuries you get.”
“Something like that,” he lied. Frank hummed, drank the last of his beer and stood to walk to the bedroom.
“Take the couch if you want. Or not- I don't care.”
Peter smiled widely. This was a great honor as he heard from Daredevil and occasionally Clint that they always had to leave as soon as they were patched up and able to stand/walk again. Peter always got a beverage but was expected to leave soon after. That he was allowed to stay was Frank’s way of showing trust in him, which made Peter unbelievably happy.
“Thank’s Frank.”
He sighed, as if already regretting the offer and closed the bedroom door behind him after throwing a blanket over to the couch.
Peter downed the rest of his beer and layed down. The warehouse wasn’t far away but he was glad to be able to stay right there and not have to walk the distance with his injury. Or having to sleep in the cold.
Laying there he thought about how far they have come in their relationship, since they first met.
It was a quiet night. He was laying on the brick railing of a building listening to his surroundings. When he heard shots go off in the distance. They were a good ten blocks away so he almost missed them. Peter rushed there, swinging fast, flying through the streets as more and more shots were fired. Maybe some gang fight?
He didn’t swoop in right in the middle of it as Matt had told him time and time again to take at least a second to assess the situation and search for any weak points.
The man lectured him sure a lot about things he barely did himself but Peter listened for once and perched on a nearby roof.
As expected there was a gang. The next generation of the Dogs of Hell by the looks of it, the black leather jackets and general biker style, but they weren’t fighting against another gang.
No, they were fighting against one man. A man he recognized as none other than Frank Castle or now with the skull vest as the Punisher.
There were no civilians around and the police were probably already on their way with the amount of noise they made fighting each other.
He hesitated shortly, not knowing where to step in. But as he saw a car barreling closer, right at the Punisher who was taking cover behind a truck while shooting people down, he knew where he was needed.
Castle didn’t seem to notice the vehicle closing in from behind over the shots and Peter jumped down from the roof, taking a swing and landing right behind him where he catched the car with both hands, lifted it into the air and used the momentum to throw it over Castle and the truck behind him.
He was looking into the barrel of a gun a second later as he turned around.
“Hey, I’m Spider-Man. Nice to meet you Mr. - oh no it’s Lieutenant right? Lieutanant Castle sir,” he said maybe a little to shipper for meeting a mass murderer and being under fire. But what was he supposed to do? He was meeting another vigilante, it was exciting.
Suddenly the buzz in his neck screamed MOVE and he grabbed the man and janked him to the side as a bullet blazed right by where his head was just a moment before.
They both crouched behind the car and the man took position to fire again. Peter was a bit dumbfounded at what to do, so he said a short, “I’m gonna help.”
“Stay out of it,” was the short gruff reply he got in return.
Peter ignored him and instead jumped up and shot a web at the lamppost, pulling himself over to the gangs side. Some of the fire now directed at him and he heard an annoyed “Argh- the Punisher and now that fuckin’ spider-freak, too?” from down below. He landed on the side of a building from where he jumped down quickly, punching out a guy as he landed and quickly shot out two webs, one at the gun in the hand of a man with two much hair gel and the other at his feet.
Peter dropped down and rolled over to a trash can, taking cover behind and ignoring the dead men beside it. The next few people were easily contained or beaten unconscious. The last one got a little close for comfort and he slapped at the hand with the gun so hard, not only flew the weapon far away but he heard the bone snap in his wrist. It was hard to feel any sympathy though when the same guy tried to kill him just seconds before. The punch after sent the man to the floor and Peter took a moment to look around.
Everyone was either dead, unconscious or trapped under webbing and that one guy in the car door Peter bend around him. The sirens were the next thing he noticed. They were closing in from two corners and Castle ran towards one of the streets they were coming from as the red and blue light were already visible from the other one. Peter ran over to him, grabbed him and swung them up to a rooftop, much to the dismay of the man as a gun was pointed at him as soon as he had solid ground under him again.
Peter took a step back, holding his hands up in a surrendering motion and quickly stammered “I’m sorry sir, but the police were driving to the street you were running to. I just- I wanted to help.” He gestured slightly at the direction where they were swinging from and the Punisher slowly walked backwards over to the edge of the roof and took a side glance at the street below, now lightened up with the emergency vehicles lights.
Castle took a few steps away again, to not get thrown off by Peter and not be seen from the street below, he figured.
“Look, I heard the shots and helped. I don’t want to fight you, sir.”
“Spider-Man-huh?”
“The one and only,” he responded chippily.
The gun pointed to the ground, still in position to be ready to shoot if necessary but the man seemed to relax a bit. He was a little smaller than Peter expected, but he wasn’t one to talk as he himself was a good bit shorter than him. With his low and gravy voice he said, not looking at Peter, but at the police arresting the gang members “Thought I’d meet you sooner.”
Peter’s smile was loud and clear in his voice. “Oh I wanted to meet you when you were doing recon but I saw you fight with Double-D. It didn’t look like fighting to kill each other so I just watched. I know Double-D has these masochistic tendencies even though he denies them whenever DP or I bring it up.” The man huffed which Peter interpreted as a laugh.
“Double-D as in Red? Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” he asked though he knew the answer already, still keeping his distance but looking at the other vigilante again.
He kicked the ground with his foot a bit, hands all over the place as he didn’t know what to do with himself, being watched like that. Peter still answered happily, even though his nerves and anxiety creeped up in him, “Yeah, we’re friends. He, DP and I were dubbed as Team Red. Maybe you heard about it.”
“I don’t care. I’m gonna get out of here now. Don’t get in my way in the future.”
“No disrespect sir, but if I hadn’t swooped in you’d be a pancake.”
“So what, you want a thank you? Thank you. There you have it.” His tone was flat, annoyed as the conversation continued.
“I don’t care about- Look I just thought maybe we can help each other out sometimes, like you and Double-D just without the beating-each-other-up part. That’s stupid.”
Peter was told in not so nice words that the Punisher wasn’t working with partners or in teams and to be left alone. He left a moment later.
After that encounter Peter had respected the man’s wishes to work on his own and only swooped in a few times to stop him form murdering everybody. He even punched him unconscious one time, because he tried to kill the perbs which Peter subdued already even without his weapons which were webbed somewhere. Of course Peter didn’t leave him for the police to find, as professional courtesies of some sorts, but carried him to a nearby rooftop and waited from a distance until he regained consciousness.
That continued until Peter heard about a human trafficking transport. At the port in a highly secured warehouse were shipping containers full of women and children, around thirty to forty, it was hard to know for sure with that many heartbeats. He watched the place for a few hours, the people coming and leaving, the conversation and armed security in the place. They wanted to ship them out that night.
Something this big, with this many lifes at risk, Peter had only done that with Wade and/or Daredevil before. But Deadpool was out on a mission with the X-Men, God knows where and Matt was on bedrest and barely able to move due to his wounds, fractured ribs and a deep knife laceration on his upper thigh. Both making it almost impossible for him to walk. Plus, Claire would kill him if he disrupted DD's recovery. He couldn't even ask Clint as he was away on some Avengers mission, too.
So Peter did the next best thing he could in the small time he had. He went to Frank Castle.
And yeah maybe it’s a bit stalkery to know where the man lived but he wanted to be prepared in the case that was now occurring.
He didn’t bother with announcing himself and let himself in through the window, to be met with a gun which was to be suspected. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry for breaking in, sir”
The weapon didn’t bulge. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Peter had his hands in view, palms up and open to the man. “A human trafficking transport is happening tonight. I just heard about it a few hours ago. All the people I usually ask with stuff this big are out of town or incapacitated.”
“‘You asking for my help?” The gun lowered itself and Peter breathed a little deeper as the buzz in his neck left.
As soon as he had briefed the older man he voiced his support. They argued shortly over the murdering part and he was able to convince him to use mostly non lethal matters as Peter wanted to keep his whole attention on the fight and rescue the victims and not at stopping the man all the time, too. He had groaned exhausted and mumbled something about these soft hearted vigilantes and scum getting away from what they deserve .
The night went mostly smooth like they had planned in the little time they had and only two people, bad ones, were shot dead as they were about to shoot the victims inside the container.
Afterwards, Peter had waited with the women and children until the police were there, distracted them from the bodies and tried to calm them down a bit. To his excitement Mahoney was one of the detectives on scene. He didn’t seem to reciprocate the excitement and even voiced his annoyance at Daredevil and that he had to tell all his ‘vigilante-buddies’ about him. Peter left soon after giving the man the rundown and met with the ex-marine on a nearby roof.
As he dropped down beside the man he exclaimed happily “That went great!”
“You are bleeding.”
Peter looked down on himself and as the man said he was bleeding from his side. A bullet must have grazed him which he didn’t notice due to the adrenaline. “Oh, that’s fine. I heal fast.”
That earned him a scoff. “Sure you do.”
“Yeah, I do. I have some cool enhancements.”
“I’ve seen,” he said with faint interest. “Come on, I’ll stitch you up.” And with that they left for the man’s apartment again. Peter was practically skipping by his side.
They talked a lot that night and drank some beer. Peter happily told him about his powers and that he was bit by a spider which Castle didn’t believe. Understandably.
After that he was met with less and less resistance when they met at night. They talked and Peter joined him on rooftops, told him what he heard and earned a sigh and exhausted sounding little Red .
He even got the man to join him to hang out or train with the other vigilantes much to Double-D’s dismay and his own amusement. Frank started to show him how to handle weapons as he couldn’t watch him slap them out of people’s hands anymore .
As he now laid on the man’s couch he really asked himself how he got him to open up, how he managed to weasel himself into his life, but he didn’t actually care about an answer to that. He was just happy to be there.
Spider-Man was still there when he woke up the next day. He looked like he made himself into a blanket burrito facing the backrest of the couch with his face, laying on his better side.
It didn’t look like he heard Frank getting ready or waking up from any of the noises he made in the bathroom and kitchen. It was early in the morning, around half past six. The sun was still down and only street lights lightened the room. With some fresh coffee he sat himself at the table and began to clean his weapons under the table lamp.
It was a first to have someone stay after he patched them up without it being necessary. Frank wasn’t used to people letting down their guards around him anymore and for him to sleep so easily behind him, he didn’t know how to interpret the feeling inside him.
Spider-Man was young, at times overeager and annoying but nowhere near as hyperactive as Deadpool. Though he appreciated the guy in terms of killing people and talking weapons, he was that sort of crazy, Frank didn’t know how to deal with without Red or the smaller Red there.
Red was the other end of the spectrum in terms of killing and presenting himself, but as he got to know him in the little trio he was part of, Frank was actually surprised how insane he could get, too. Even before that Frank had seen tendencies in him to lose control in fights but with both Spider-Man and Deadpool around he lost just as much control in terms of shenanigans.
But Karen had said he looked happier these days so he wasn’t gonna question it. That man needed every bit of dopamine he could get. Not like he cared.
Sometimes it seemed like the spider themed vigilante was the only actually logical thinking person out of their little tag-team. And that says a-fucking -lot.
Every now he heard small grunts from behind and it was kind of- no. It was not adorable how he fisted the blanket around himself. That little terror can catch busses and snap peoples bones like it’s nothing. No one should ever think there is anything adorable about that guy.
Even though the media dubs him as a menace, people actually like him. It’s logical. Since he popped up he protects the city all year round, most hours of the day.
Healthy work-life-vigilante by night-balance, his ass. Frank scoffed at the thought. Red has too much influence on him.
Just as he went into the kitchen, a fresh cup of coffee ready, he heard the small grunts turn more agitated. As he looks closer he sees the clenched jaw and deadly grip on the blanket, his knuckles white. His head jerks from right to left every now and then and he curls himself up even more.
A nightmare.
“Hey, Spidey-” he said as loud as he could without being heard by the neighbors. “Webs?” No reaction from the person in front of him.
He repeated some Hey’s and Wake up a little louder, keeping his distance as he knew how scary it can be to wake up from a nightmare.
It took him a good few minutes to wake the man, his volume increasing steadily. He jolts up and gasps, pushing himself far into the cushion where he needed another minute to really orient himself and notice Frank sitting on the chair close by.
He took a deep breath and let his shoulders drop, lifted his hand to rub at his eyes and just noticed the mask he is still wearing. The hand dropped to his lap again and he takes real notice in Frank’s presence this time.
“Coffee,” he croaked. His voice breaking in the middle which he poorly tried to hide behind a cough. Frank scoffs a laugh and gets him a cup.
They avoid the nightmare topic. They all have them. They all know not to ask about it.
Instead Frank brings up last night's injury. “Don’t you have your fancy sense to notice the knife before it enters your body?”
“Yeah, but I noticed too late and he aimed for her so I just kind of jumped to the side and took it in the back.”
He hums and can’t stop the curiosity and asks, “How does it work?”
“Hm- I’m not really sure actually. It’s like a buzz in my neck that warns me from danger. Like when we first met it had constant low buzz in your presence 'cause you're a dangerous person and stuff, but it’s gone now. Sometimes it’s as if it screams at me to ZOOM and I do that. It’s a little as if I’m going into autopilot and my body just jumps.”
He sips from his coffee before conitnuing, “But I have to be fucking careful with it, too, ‘cause sometimes it alerts me like really randomly. Especially with flies. I snatch them out of the air with two fingers ‘cause my buzz said so. And then I have to restrain myself even more ‘cause my whole body yells at me to eat it and my brain is like logically, please don’t do that. I think it’s the spider-part of me, like when I prefer to sit or sleep on the ceiling.”
Look, Frank just wanted an explanation for the sense. He would have been fine not knowing that Spider-Man had the fucking urge to eat insects and sleeps on freacking ceilings sometimes.
Spider-part of me? What is that even supposed to mean? Frank thought, he just chose a gimmick like Red and went with it. The story about the spider-bite giving him enhancements can’t be true. Can it?
Frank bit down each and every question that popped up after that and just nodded.
Yeah, that’s enough weird shit for one day and it’s not even nine o’clock.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Summary:
Peter saves people in a building fire and gets injured in the process.
Notes:
*Trigger Warning*
burn injuries, underage drinking, drug use, medical inaccuraciesHey, Hey,
back again with another chapter.
Let me know what you think in the comments or leave suggestions, advice, etc. Everything is welcome. And thanks for all the kudos. I’m new to posting fanfics so this is very exciting for me.Still mostly stuff that is just happening in Peter's life right now.
The saga of Peter getting severly injured continues.
Hope y’all have fun reading!
Chapter Text
He felt like burning, from both in- and outside. His breath ragged with the weak attempt to get some air into his lungs. Every gasp of air stinging inside him. The smoke thick and black and unforgiving. He had to get out soon.
Peter had been sitting on a roof down the road from the building currently in flames. It has been a quiet day, a few muggings here and there. Nothing extraordinary.
First were the screams and then people running out of the building, about a dozen of them. It was a hotel, one of the nicer ones.
When he got there the fire alarm already blared and more people ran into the street. What made it different from other burning buildings though were the people. They were hysterical, crying and screaming at the top of their lungs.
Peter ran into the building without a second thought and what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.
People, burning, calmly walking around spreading it to everything that was flammable. Four people, two of which had canisters of gas pouring it everywhere.
They were not in agony it seemed. Their breathing and heartbeats even as if they did a mindless task like washing dishes. But Peter could see the bubbling skin and the parts that were already crisp black.
He quickly shot some webs at them, tried to trap them and stop them from spreading the fire even more. Peter shot another web at the ceiling of the lobby to swing over the flames to the nearest person. He took off the jacket he was wearing, putting it over him and frantically patting him down in hopes of stopping it.
But nothing worked. His clothes seemed to be drenched in something that wouldn’t stop burning.
In his terror he asked “Why are you doing that? Are you not in pain?”
The man in front of him, probably in his twenties, just looked at him. And as Peter looked into his eyes he saw the silent panic. Eyes widened, bloodshot. Pleading, like he wanted to say something, do something else than just laying there in flames, but couldn’t.
Peter’s own eyes become glassy, full of despair and hopelessness about the situation.
The shouting from a few floors up shook him out of his trance. He looked down at the man again, voice breaking when he said, “I’m sorry” before standing up and looking for the stairwell.
The fire spread fast and he had to wonder if there were more of those attackers in the building.
He quickly ran upstairs, most rooms already dark with thick black smoke. Collecting people from the rooms, ushering them all into a room which wasn’t on fire yet and accessible for the firefighters currently arriving at the szene, on autopilot. He closed and barricaded every door and room in an attempt to stop the flames a little longer.
Just doing the job at hand, not thinking about the people he had to leave downstairs.
There were only a few people on the top floors left. He heard their distraught wimperings and erratic heartbeats. It was all going too fast, the fire growing hotter by the minute. The house began to creak and every now and then he already heard beams breaking.
Peter didn’t have much longer to get them out safe as the building was almost falling apart now.
Fire and rescue got the people from the floors downstairs already out the window. Five people left. You can do it.
It got more exhausting with every step he took. He moved fast, but his body didn’t get the oxygen it needed anymore. Every breath agonizing in his lungs. He moved through it though. His vision began to blur and blacken around the edges but he had to continue. Five people.
Finally, he found three of them. It was getting harder to locate them as the fire sounded too loud in his ears as well as the dizziness he had to fight against now. They were huddled together in front of the window. A woman, a man and a little girl. Their faces and clothes are dark with grime.
“Hello, can you move? Are you injured?” Peter’s voice ruff, almost gone because of the amount of smoke he inhaled already.
The man tried to answer but it turned into a coughing fit. The woman answered instead “No, we are not hurt. Please help us.” She was crying just like her girl.
“Ok, I need your jacket, please.” He crouched down to the girl as the mother handed him her jacket. “Can you hold on to my neck? You need to use all your strength and hold on to me, ok?”
“Ok,” she responded quietly. As quiet as the tears falling from her face. She held onto his neck and he took the jacket and quickly put it around them both, tying a knot to make sure she didn't fall.
“You two need to hold on, too. There is no time to make second trips. You get on my back.” He pointed to the father. “You take the front. Hold on with both hands and legs.”
They got situated, far from optimal but there was no other way. Peter used one arm to hold on to them. He walked over to the window and shot a web at the outside wall which was hopefully intact enough to hold them. Peter didn’t think another second about it and jumped out. The family screamed but their held grip deadly, not wavering around him.
As they landed a few people were shouting around them and the man and woman soon fell to the floor. He quickly undid the nod of the jacket and lowered the little girl to the ground, too. The paramedics tend to them immediately.
A firefighter by his side spoke to him now. “Spider-Man. Thank you. Do you know if there is anyone else in the building?”
Peter felt overwhelmingly dizzy again and swayed a bit on the spot. His breathing heavy, his voice strained when he answered, “I can hear two more people. I think they are on the 7th floor. Get your people out of the building. It’ll collapse.”
He didn’t wait for an answer as he shot a web out and quickly scaled the building.
No time. Two people.
The fresh air was almost worse now. He gasped the clean air, couldn’t control himself to take the deep breaths he so desperately needed.
Now on the outside wall of the 7th floor he took a moment. Deep in- and deep out- Ok again, deep in- deep out. His vision cleared a bit as he wasn’t hyperventilating now.
Two people, two heartbeats. Thankfully they were in the same room. He neared himself as far as he could outside to avoid breathing even more of the suffocating smoke inside.
He stopped before a window that had already busted under the heat. As he wanted to climb in he was met with burning hot air and flinched back momentarily. Come on Spider-Man . He took a big lungful of air, held it and jumped inside.
His whole body felt like burning as he crawled the floor to where he suspected the people to be.
As he rounded the corner he found them. Both unconscious trapped under a broken beam from the ceiling.
Shit.
One man, around forty, was laying facedown, leg under the wood. The other, probably around the same age as the guy in the lobby, breathed only shallowly as he was trapped with the chest under.
Peter grabbed the beam, holding onto it as he felt the blisters forming on his hands and lifted it with a scream of pain. He held it with his right hand and used the other to pull the two men free. As soon as he got them out it fell from his hands and Peter with it to the ground.
Air- I need air. I can’t- He desperately tried to breathe. The ceiling started to come down on them. He heard it but his eyes saw only darkness. On all fours now, breathing hard, coughing, crying from the burning smoke in his eyes. His consciousness slipped through his fingers like sand.
He didn’t know were he took the strength from, maybe it was the breathing stopping from one of the men or his fluttering heartbeat, but the next thing Peter knows is him pulling one man over his shoulder and holding the other close, sticking them to himself with his webs before running to the window and jumping out with a leap as the the ceiling, the whole building come down behind him.
The fire truck ladder was up high enough for him to shoot a web at and use to lower them to the ground.
He ripped the webbing off with a few tuggs, the men falling to ground but not hitting as firefighters and paramedics were already by their side catching them.
For a second everything seemed bright, too bright as the sun was a burning difference to the smoky darkness inside the building. Then darkness again.
Peter fell to his knees, holding himself up with his arms, heaving air. He felt like puking and drowning all the same. He tried to take deep breaths but they fell short. Lifting his mask over his mouth with a trembling hand which made the now panicked breaths a bit easier but not much.
He started crying involuntarily, from the smoke still clinging in his eyes and the rising panic with every shortcoming breath.
Suddenly air.
He breathed in deeply. The oxygen hitting in with his clouded mind and he noticed the mask providing it pressed to his face. He took a few more of those releasing lungfuls before sitting down on the ground properly slumping against something to his side.
His vision still blurred and spun with every head move too fast but he could make out the firefighter next to him. The guy he talked to before and Peter now leaned on. It didn’t have it in him to move just yet, his limbs heavy and skin stinging from the burns. The man started talking but Peter’s ears rang with all the noises around him, not yet able to focus on anything again.
After coughing his everything out he croaked a quiet “Water?”
It was handed to him directly and he gulped it in big mouthfuls. Peter coughed again and the oxygen mask got placed back over his face.
He faced the firefighter and roughly said, “Thank you.”
“Oh no, we have to thank you. We wouldn’t have been able to get everyone out in time. Thank you Spider-Man.”
The people from the lobby came back to his mind and Peter hung his head. “I didn’t get everyone out.”
A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder. The man spoke with experience, warm and caring. “I’m sorry. But it’s not always possible. You did your best. Now you should get to one of the paramedics and get yourself checked over.”
Peter coughed again. He stood up, bracing himself for a moment with a hand on the shoulder of the firefighter till the world didn’t spin anymore and took a step back. “Thank you for the offer. But I got to go.”
“No, you should really let someone check your injuries. You need oxygen and rest.” The man tried to reason, but Peter noticed his surroundings better now. There were people everywhere, firefighters, paramedics and police officers now, too. Some pedestrians were filming the building and him as well as someone from a news station.
No, he had to leave now. He couldn’t trust his senses now to not get accidentally revealed somehow.
“Ah- no, thank you. I’ll be fine. Tell the people who investigate that there were people on fire who spreaded it. Like suicide attackers.”
“Wait what?”
“They were on fire and spreading it. Ask some of the other wittnissed, they’ll back me. Can I take that,” he spoke as quickly as his hoarse throat allowed and pointed to the oxygen mask and connected tank at his last question.
“Yes, take it, but I still think you should check with the-”
Peter interrupted him, “Thank you so much. Bye.”
He shot a web at a nearby building, oxygen tank in one hand and with the other swinging away.
He made it about two blocks until he collapsed on a rooftop, gasping for air again. The mask helped but everything came back to him now. Everything he had pushed back in the building. The blistered skin, feeling as if it were still zisseling under the fire, the burning in his eyes and airways. His clothes were mostly burned. Most definitely not usable anymore as the smoky smell would never leave the fabric.
The cold late November air wasn’t making any of it more comforting.
And then, everything fell black again.
The diner Frank chose wasn’t anything special. He liked them simple, without unnecessary nicknacks. The waitress just filled his cup with fresh, a little watery coffee as he quickly scanned the menu, still undecided what he wanted to eat for his late lunch.
There were nine people inside including the staff. It was 3 p.m., after the lunch rush so things were running slow.
Frank had nothing planned today. He’ll maybe visit David, Sarah and the kids. It has been a while since he’d been there without talking business, too.
The TV quietly played news in the background.
“Today a building fire got out of control. As you can see the ‘City Inn - Lion Hotel’ on 29th and Lexington Avenue is burned to the ground. It is still unclear what caused the fire but we know who we have to thank for the lives saved today. The local hero ‘Spider-Man’ arrived shortly after the-”
Frank’s focus snapped to the anchor. “-fire broke out. Eyewitnesses are saying that he ran into the front doors and got the people grouped inside and in position for the firefighters to rescue through the windows. We got these spectacular recordings from a bystander.”
Frank’s eyes were fixed on the TV, everything around him forgotten. Of course the guy ran into a burning building. Why isn’t he surprised?
The news shifted to a shaky video clip picturing Spider-Man jumping out the window of one of the top floors and lowering three people to the ground. The reporter spoke over the video, “As you can see, he rescued a family before shortly speaking with the Captain of the fire department on szene. He allegedly warned the captain to evacuate the firefighters inside as the building was about to collapse, before leaping up and entering the burning building again.” The video showed as she described.
What Frank frowned at was the way the vigilante swayed and breathed heavily. He obviously had breathed in too much smoke already and was struggling to keep up. The way he braced himself before entering the building just unlined his suspicion.
The firecaptain now spoke to the camera “When I spoke to Spider-Man the first time he told me that two more people were inside. He also saved my men today as the building collapsed only shortly after we got them out thanks to his warning.”
The reporter stood in the picture again. “These are live pictures as we were at the scene when the building collapsed,” she said and the picture changed again to the reporter standing in front of the burning building speaking to the camera.
“Spider-Man just entered the building again. As you can see, the firefighters are having difficulties keeping the flames under control. The- Oh, Spider-Man just jumped out the window and swung himself down with two people attached to him. Oh god- the building is collapsing. Spider-Man made it out just in time. He is now-”
Frank didn't listen to her report anymore. His focus tunneled on the video of Spider-Man as he loosened the unconscious people from himself before swiftly falling to ground, panting. He looked half burned, even worse than the last clip and deeply struggling. He obviously couldn’t breathe.
“Our local hero saved the lives of these two men with great effort, as well as a few dozen others today. He seemed to be having problems himself. He is still on the ground after he collapsed. We’ll try to get a word in with him and-”
The burned and battered man in the video practically inhaled the water the firefighter gave him and collapsed against him again. Then as if nothing happened he stands and speaks with the man. He is obviously more aware of himself again, still panicked and spooked by everything around him. Frank sees him talking frantically with the other man before he takes off with the oxygen tank in hand, mask still over his face.
Frank pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table, gulped his coffee down and left.
That idiot is probably on some roof close by, unconscious and or dying.
He needed to find him though, that will be the difficult part. He doesn’t know how far he made it and he can’t search every roof around the area. He doesn’t know how much time he has either, with the way he looked he could either be dead by now or just walking it off. Vigilante’s have a way with injuries, you never know what to expect.
Frank doesn’t wanna play into his luck, take his time finding him and acknowledges that he needs some help. He sighed, knowing just who to call in these situations.
He fished his burner out of his pocket as he started the car up.
“Hey Red.”
“Frank, what do you want?” The obvious exhaustion Frank’s call costs Red makes him quirk a smile.
“What Red, you haven’t seen? It’s all over the news.”
“Haha, you're so funny Frank.”
“Not funny though. Spider-Man got himself injured in a building fire. News showed him swinging away ‘proximitely a minute after he collapsed. He’s probably dying somewhere on a roof close by. You help me find him.”
“Where was it? I’ll meet you there.”
The last thing he remembers is crashing down on a roof and staying there. It was simultaniously hot and cold. His skin felt like burning from the inside out and the cold air hitting it from the outside freezing him. Even the goosebumps which rose hurt him all over. Every little bum felt like a needle pricking deep into him.
A building fire. Yeah.
That happened.
He opened his eyes with great effort looking into a bright blue sky. Today was one of the few fall day’s which weren’t rainy and gray but with sunshine. It could have been so nice.
He stayed laying on his back and felt never more grateful for nice people like the man he got the oxygen tank from.
It would probably be smart to move. Get off this dirty roof and somewhere warmer. Go, deal with his injuries. Do something.
He stayed down. The sun felt so nice in his face.
Suddenly there were strong hands on his shoulders, shaking and Peter flinched back.
Hard.
He scrambled to his feet and away from whoever continued touching him. The tank got dragged with him still connected to the mask on his face.
“Hey, hey calm down. It’s me, Frank”, a deep voice said.
Frank was there. Matt, too? How did they find him? Where did they come from?
“Frank, Matt, what are you doing here,” he managed to croak. His voice was hoarse and deeper than usual due to the ruse and smoke. His throat felt tight and dry and he coughed a few times before heaving heavily. Oh great, he was on his knees again.
“Hey, deep breaths. Here is water.”
As he grabbed the bottle to open he flinched back and hissed at the contact of his skin with the plastic. Now with the adrenaline mostly gone, pain shoots right through him.
He looked at his hands. They were shaking violently. The gloves of his suit completely burned away, uncovering the blistered skin in his palms.
“Ok. Let me help, yeah?” Frank lifted the oxygen mask off his face, opened the bottle and held it to his mouth. He held the back of Peter’s head as he greedily drank the liquid.
He coughed again before he said a rough, “Thank you.”
“No problem. Come on, let’s get somewhere where we can look after those.”
As he stood, his vision blurred again and weren’t it for the strong arms of Matt around his back he would have sunken straight to the ground again.
“How did you find me?” God, every step, every word, everything was agonizing, burning.
“I have this idiot-sense. I feel, no, I just know when you or Red get into stupid shit. It’s like your-”
“Haha - no for real,” Peter interrupted him.
“Saw ya’ on TV with your little stunt. Got Red to find ya’ cause I expected something like this.” He gestured to his form.
‘Thanks Frank’ he thought sarcastically.
Ok, well, fair enough.
“Ahhhh- I feel like a burned chicken nugget.”
The first thing he wanted to do is let himself fall into the soft cushions of Frank’s couch. Walking exhausted him enough as it is and he had to get the stairs up now, too, because the elevator in Frank’s building was out of service.
Just as he dropped, falling into the brown leather couch an arm wrapped around his middle and lifted him into the air.
“No way, no! I’m never getting that smell out if you lay down on it.” Peter fell slack in his arms with a loud groan.
“Why the fuck are you so light? That doesn’t make any sense.” Great now he got lifted up and down as if he was weight in the gym.
“Stop that. My bones are bendy, not as dense as yours, so I’m lighter. And can you please let me down. I’ll probably ruin your carpet if you don’t.”
The movement stopped but he still floated in the air. Frank walked over to the bathroom and dropped him off into the bathtub.
“Can I get some water? Oh and how many painkillers do you have?”
Matt now tucked at the other layers of Peter’s burned clothes. “I thought those don’t work for you?”
He signed. He should stop him from helping. The last time he checked his ribs started to stick out and his stomach was carved in a little since the last time he had been fixed up by either of them. They couldn’t know about his state.
He choughed heavily before answering, “Yeah, but if I take many, they might work. How many do you normally take?”
“Around two. What do you mean ‘might’? You don’t know, do you?”
Frank went into the bathroom with two water bottles, a packet of Thylonol and Aspirin.
Peter tried to focus his vision which still blurred every now and then on the bottles of pills. As he took them into his hands, with the back of his fingers which were mostly fine, shaking it one time, both almost full. He looked at the older man again. “Would you be mad if I used these up?”
“Knock yourself out,” he answered, handing him the open water now, too.
He said his quick Thanks and ignored Matt’s protests completely as he downed the pills and drank the water with great pain in his throat. Peter let himself fall back into the bathtub, hitting the back of his head on the wall tiles.
He sighed.
“When you do shit like this I feel like a sane person.”
“How do you think I feel with both of ya’, Red?” Frank chuckled still watching Spider-Man in his tub with a measuring look. “You good? Need any help?”
“Nah.” God, he sounded weak.
“Ok. I’ll get you some clothes and a mask.”
“Thank you.”
And like that they left the bathroom.
He weakly rightened himself up to close the curtain and get to the faunclet. He was still fully clothed as the cold water hit him. First, he hissed but as the releasing rain of shower ran over his burned body he let himself fall back again. Just sitting like this for a minute before attempting to wash himself.
It turned out harder than expected, recalling every event of today and as he tried it got difficult to piece together the longer he had been in the building. The last thing he remembers from the two people at the top was lifting something extremely hot and then suffocating.
God, next time he’ll ask for the firefighters equipment when rescuing someone. At least his oxygen mask.
He weakly lifted himself to his feet and ripped the clothes of his body. This seemed easier than trying to undress himself from the drenched fabrics. Not like they could be rescued. He can’t imagine how bad the smell must be for Double-D right now.
The clothes abandoned on the floor and the curtain closed; he just stood there for a second. Who thought a cold shower could be this nice?
The cool liquid soothed his skin that as he now looked down was bad.
Like bad bad.
His upper body was just bumps, bubbles and red, angry skin. The arms suffered most from the flames. He also had a gash in his arm that he didn’t know how it got there. Maybe from when he crashed down on the roof?
He recoiled in on himself as the shampoo hit his burned palms, breathing deep and heavy for a second to get the pain under control. Applying it to his hair turned out to be even worse. In the end he used his wrists more than his hands to wash himself evenly. The rest of his body only got a rough runover as every minute he used his hands he had to restrain himself more not to cry out or scream in pain. The lip teared bloody now with how hard he bit it.
Not bothering with washing the soap actually out again he just stood again. The stream continued to rain on his body. He turned around for the water to hit his back, too.
Right now Peter was never more grateful to have friends like Frank and Double-D. Friends with a shower.
His limbs felt even heavier than before but this time the painful burning feeling subdued. Maybe he actually took enough of those painkillers.
When he got out of the shower there were clothes, a big gray sweater bottom and a blue hoodie as well as a simple black mask similar to his normal one. It even had integrated goggles.
Why would Frank need something like that?
He drowned in the pants but being a good foot smaller than Frank he could have suspected that. He just pulled the strings out a good end and tight a knot in hope they won’t fall down.
His mind felt a little cloudy, but in the good way. Peter didn’t bother wearing the sweater and walked out in just pants and mask.
Hadn’t the painkillers kicked in just now he would have probably remembered his starved stage instead of just his injuries and covered himself up. Now standing in front of the two it didn’t matter anymore.
“You look like shit.” Peter chuckled humorlessly at him.
“Why do you have a mask like mine,” he asked as if it were the most important topic right now.
“Figured you’d end up needing it at some point.”
“That’s so nice of you Frank. Thaanks ” Peter slurred his words as his tongue felt heavier than normally. “Painkillers are nice. My head feels kinda fuzzy.”
Frank groaned. Dealing with drugged people was never fun and this one was superpowered, too. “Sit down,” he ordered.
He looked at the body in front of him. Just burned skin, bones and lean muscles.
God, why did he still have fucking abs when his stomach was carved in?
One thing at a time. Red started already, tenting to the burns, applying ointment and creams before bandaging them. There were so many on his arms alone.
That idiot.
At least the painkillers did something for him. He just let himself sack back, manhandled to apply the gauze around him.
“Shower ‘s nice. Cold.”
“Yeah, it was,” Red replied noncommittally.
He got quiet for a second before saying, voice barely above a whisper, “They were burning.”
Matt perked up at the conversation the other vigilante started. “Who was burning? They are saying you rescued everyone.”
Of course Red would keep an ear out for the reports. Probably hearing it from the news someone was watching one block over.
“No I didn’t. They were on fire. ‘st walking around, spreading it. Attackers but didn’ want to.”
Spider-Man’s whole body tensed up as he started to remember what happened just hours ago. “His heartbeat- he was so calm. ‘is skin was already black. But I saw it in his eyes. He didn’t want to. He-” Spidey’s voice cut off. Maybe because of the upcoming emotion, maybe because his throat was still dry as sandpaper.
The man sounded as if he would lose it any second now. Hands and voice wobbly but other than that, tense and stock-still sitting on the couch.
“Are you saying that people walked around burning as if they didn’t feel pain?”
“Yeah.”
Spider-Man fell asleep soon after the conversation. Just as Matt finished him up, Frank came back from the kitchen with a few snacks and two cups of coffee.
“He’s gonna be fine. He never healed from burns when I was around so I’m not sure how long it’s gonna take.” Matt accepted his cup.
“Yeah, figured. He’s like a cockroach.”
Frank settled himself on a chair beside the couch watching the man. He is extremely thin. Frank would have probably noticed if it weren’t for the layers and layers of loose clothing he usually wore.
On the end of the couch Red squeezed himself down beside Spider-Man’s feet. He frowned, eyebrows furrowed. A look he is accustomed to by the Devil.
“He is too thin. You think he isn’t eating?”
The crease on his forehead only deepened. “I noticed him being hungry most times we are out. I told Wade and he began to bring food everytime we met. I thought it got better.”
Frank shrugged, “Hell with that metabolism. I don’t want to see the grocery bill.”
“He said that the Attackers were burning, but not in pain.” Matt changed the topic. Thinking out loud as he tried to see sense in what the other vigilante told them. “They could have something in their system that prevents them from it but then why would they do that? Why that hotel? And Webs said that one of them looked panicked. Maybe mind manipulation like with the winter soldier but that doesn’t explain the lack of pain response.”
“We don’t know yet what he saw. He told us that high on drugs. In my opinion he’s out of it and the smoke or lack of oxygen messed with his head.”
“No, I don’t think so. Clint told me something similarly weird some weeks ago about a robbery. Nothing like it came up again so I ignored it. But now-” He gestured at the man by his side. “Maybe it’s something bigger.”
He sighed. With this man, there is always some big conspiracy behind every corner or slightly weird encounter. As if he forgot that they're not only in New York but living in a time where everyday people like him gain superpowers. Or are just born with it like the mutants.
Frank didn’t want shit to do with whatever this is supposedly could be unless Red found an actual target with proof.
And even then he would rather deal with it himself than with the man or the whole team he can’t seem to shake.
“Well, keep me out of it until you find something substantial. And don’t do stupid shit like raiding a place without telling anyone,” he muttered over his coffee cup.
The corner of Red’s mouth quirked up. “Do I hear care in there?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
The last days took a toll on Peter. Healing was always exhausting. Thankfully he got a big breakfast at Frank’s. The pancakes, syrup and fruits gave him enough calories and nutrients as a head start for his metabolism.
But the next few days, he still needed to buy more food from the limited money he had. His tutoring session wouldn’t be for another five days and his payment from last time was already used up.
He had to go to a soup kitchen, which was extremely risky. Peter only used it as a last resort for when he got heavily injured like now or Wade was out of town and he couldn’t get any food from him at their training or hangout sessions.
The burns healed faster than bullet wounds and needed about the same time as a bigger knife wound. His arms were mostly scarred skin now. The scars always took another few days to heal after the actual injury. Leaving only smooth skin in the end.
Tonight he will meet Daredevil and Deadpool at Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls. Clint might join, too, depending on how long they needed for the debrief after his mission he came back from today.
Sometimes he felt guilty for barely paying when they were out. But Clint and Wade never seemed to care as the bundles of cash just kept appearing in their pockets.
Peter thought a lot about what he could give them in return. Something he could afford and would be useful. Just to show some gratitude and because he wanted to. No special occasion needed.
When he came up with his idea he invested a lot of his time in the library for research and solving the problems he came up with on the way.
He used a big part of the web formula but needed to test and alter a few equations to fit it the way he needed it to be. Entering the testing phase always turned nerve-wracking as he only had minimal supplies and didn’t want to waste them.
Today finally came the day he could present and gift the outcome of his week-long work to his friends. His hands sweated slightly in his nervousness on the way over and he even did less tricks and flips when he swung to the bar as not to stress the contents of his backpack too much.
The bar's noises quieted like usual when the three vigilante’s were present. At first Weasel complained about their presents, saying that it would be bad for business, but as they kept coming and his customers didn’t seem to be bothered, even fought less with each other, he accepted their presents.
He was met with a loud “Spidey-babe!” and two masks kisses on both of his cheeks from Wade as well as an exasperated, “Hey, thank god you're finally here,” from Daredevil.
“What did Wade tell you all about his Hello Kitty collection again? Or his dislike of the life action Kim Possible?”
“No, I wasn’t but that is an excellent idea my cute little bug.” Peter was pinched in the cheek.
He took Wade’s hand and bent it so far back that it was almost breaking but not quite yet. The other masked man fell backwards as a reaction and Peter defended weakly, “I’m not little or small . I’m fun-size.”
Everyone around laughed at him. Great. He could even see the tears gather in Weasel’s eyes as he bent over wheezing.
Wade stood by his side again. “Sure. Now what do you want to drink, my normal sized, no even big chiwawa.”
“Argh- a beer. I don’t care what you say about my size. I’m not responsible for it. I told you after the bite, my body went through a-”
“-lot of changes. Your height, too.” Matt finished for him, exhausted. “Yeah, we know. You know you get pretty defensive about it saying that you don’t care for it,” he added grinning.
“Are we talking about Spidey being a cute little gnome again,” Clint asked from directly behind him. Like, inches from his ear.
Peter didn’t notice him coming and startled so much he jumped to the ceiling. “I hate it when you do that.”
“I love it when I do that,” he laughed at him.
In reaction Peter let himself fall on top of Clint bringing them both to the ground. Now he is laughing as the older man groaned in pain.
Both still on the disgusting bar floor Clint perked up, “Do you classify as a furry? Nat and I talked about it on our way back. I think-”
“No, I don’t-” he cut the man off before he could say anything else. “-and if you don’t agree you will not get your gift.”
“Uhhh- I love gifts. Gimme, gimme.” Wade made grabby hands at him.
“You get yours later. You won’t really need what I made.”
“Argh- fine .” He slumped down at the bar, downing the bottle in front of him which, Peter was pretty sure, wasn’t his. “We will so talk about the furry thing later.”
Peter decided to ignore him, too nervous to think about the dreadful discussion that would come and instead opened his backpacks to take the two, in newspaper wrapped packets out. He gave one to each Matt and Clint.
“What’s the occasion,” asked Red.
“No occasion. Just wanted to give you something I worked on, you know? Open it,” he answered. Palms damp again in anticipation of their reaction. It has been a long time since he was gifting something.
As they opened the packets, they seemed a bit confused as Peter expected. He started to describe it for them, “These are like bandages but stronger. They are made with my web formular. You can carry them around in a pocket because they are pretty flat and if you get hurt in action you can just slap it over your injury. It’s supposed to stop the blood flow until you get out. You still need to clean the wounds and stitch yourself up afterwards but it will stop you from dying immediately. You should be able to peel it off.”
They stayed quiet. Daredevil's fingers carefully traced each of the smaller packets inside. Clint stared at them, too. Peter fidgeted beside them and nervously drank from his bottle in an attempt to hide it. Just as the quietness became unbearable for him Matt asked carefully, his voice a little rougher than usual, “You made these?”
“Yeah. It took a while. You know, get the formula right, find a material that could hold it like that. I could only make four each for you two and Frank because of the chemicals. It’s not easy getting them. But I can try and make more if you need them. These are only for emergencies though, like when you are literally bleeding out in an alley somewhere. I know you can get yourself home with a shallow knife wound without having to use it,” Peter rambled in his unease.
Like, could they please react? This is torture.
“Wow, thank you.” The archers voiced earness. “I didn’t know you could make something like this.”
“Of course baby-boy could make this. I found the nerd on a roof one time reading a book about quantum physics. For fun . And you say I’m the crazy one.”
“I have something for you, too. It’s not as nice as the bandages, but yeah.”
Peter grabbed into the backpack again, taking out a big packet this time. It was wrapped in newspaper, too. He got some books about sewing and stitching from Ms. Jenn a while ago. They were supposed to be thrown out as the library got a lot of new ones. She had always asked first and let him look through if he wanted to take some of them.
When Wade opened them he beamed through the mask “Oh Spidey, thank you!”
The ‘thank you’s were reciprocated by the other two men and Peter felt giddy with the outcome. Especially Clint and Matt seemed touched by the gesture. A gift making sure that they stayed safe.
And Peter would actually kill them himself if they won’t use them and bleed out in some alleyway or dumpster again.
Claire probably, too.
Matt, after packing away his gift and taking his own beer, leaned back into his seat with a grin and exclaimed very confidently for someone wearing a devil costume every night, “If Spider-Man is a Furry, so is Hawkeye.”
“Wait, wait, wait- No way!-”
And with that chaos ensued.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Notes:
*Trigger Warning*
discussion of sexuality, mentioned child abuseHi, Hi,
here is the next chapter.
Hope you like it. (I like it)Leave everything and anything in the comments.
Peter gets hurt again *peace sign* but from the next chapter on he will be better. Like not get hurt all the time.
Ok cool. That’s it.
Have fun reading!
Chapter Text
Of course it’s one of those days when everybody is there that Wade decides to ruin his life.
They were more or less sitting, Wade laid on the ground and Matt was perched on the ledge, on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen, drinking beer and eating Chinese take-out.
The ex-marine had actually stumbled upon the group as he wanted to stake out on that very roof. They had been there first so they didn’t leave much to the man’s dismay. He still seemed kind of relieved at the prospect of not having to sit alone somewhere for hours on end.
(Peter quietly suspects that Matt knew of Frank’s plans and came here to bother him.)
Everything had been fine. They had a good time. Matt and Frank weren’t at each other's throats for once which was great.
It was nice.
Until Wade decided to interrupt his own monologue to turn to Peter who was currently reading a book he had brought, it was about Dr. Cho’s research in cell regeneration, and asked the young vigilante the possibly worst question he could have asked. A horrible, no-good, very bad question he never wanted to hear.
Besides maybe about his identity or living conditions or any of that other boring old stuff.
No, he turned and asked nonchalently “Spidey-baby, who was your sexual awakening?”
“What?” He choked on thin air.
Peter could feel the eyes on him now and even though Matt and Frank tried to hide behind a facade of indifference there was faint interest. Probably because Peter had such a harsh reaction.
“I mean you're not really subtle with the whole being Bi thing. We all know. You literally swung over Pride saying you were Bider-Man, swinging both ways and all that cute stuff. And I just know you little cutey pie had a very confusing, absolutely hilarious horrible sexual awakening. Soo-” He scoots over to him, still lying on the floor, now on his belly and with his feet in the air, happily swinging back and forth, “-who?”
The book got abandoned by his side and he sat up a bit. Peter tried to steady his heartbeat when he carefully, slowly, very measured said, “I didn’t have a weird sexual awakening.”
The Devil jumps down beside him and with a smile honoring his nick-name and in absolute delight he half shouts “Lie!”
Peter groans and lets himself fall back onto the rooftop, covering his masked face with his hands. Naturally Matt would take it as fucking game. Argh!
Wade lights up like a christmas tree, claps his hands with much enthusiasm and asks again “Oh come on buggy-boy. I told you about mine!” The man actually whines.
“You wouldn’t even know the person.”
“Lie!” Shit, he forgot about the lie detector.
Frank sits by watching the whole ordeal with much amusement and Clint decided it was the absolute best time to bud in, too. “Is it Thor? It’s always Thor.”
“No. It’s not. Could you like, please stop?”
“Never.” Matt says like the child he is and sits down in the stupid little circle they’re in. They had to look like a group of middle schoolers at a sleepover right about now, especially with that topic. Peter sure as hell felt like one.
“Cap? I mean that ass-”
“No.”
“Tony?”
“Ew- No.”
“Luke?”
“No!”
They all ask in turns. Peter is really considering jumping off the roof.
“Will you only say no?”
Peter glares at Clint. The man squirmed a little and he was glad that he was able to convey his strong negative emotions for these people he normally called friends through his mask.
“Barnes?”
“No.”
“George Clooney?”
“What? No.”
“Falcon?”
“No.”
“Danny?”
“No.”
“Banner?”
“Guys. Please. Just. Stop.” Peter hit his head against the floor with every word.
“Is that a no? I mean you have a weird obsession with him,” Clint tries again. Peter throws his empty take-out container at him.
Then a voice chimed in from behind them. It’s not even a question when Frank says, “It’s Wade.”
And maybe he was a tad too still after that and maybe he hesitated a moment too long with his answer. “No.” And yeah he sounded too fucking pressed when he said it.
If Matt lit up before, he now looks like freaking fireworks on New Years. “Lie!” He basically shouts at Peter with so much fucking joy. He could swear he had never seen the man happier than now.
Peter punches him in the face. He couldn’t help it. Matt was a fucking dick and deserved it.
Frank seemed to support his decision in causing Double-D bodily harm as he barked a laugh at where the man was laying on the ground, groaning.
“Baby-boy?” The smirk he could hear in his voice, oh, Peter was so fucking tempted to hit him, too. And the other two men. God, why does life hate him so much?
“No,” he said again sternly, trying really hard not to look at the man. Trying really hard not to sink away into the ground. Trying really hard to ignore the way his whole body felt on fire.
“Oh sweetums, peaches, my cute little snuggle-bug, spidey-babes?”
“What Wade,” he snaps.
“Me, my ugly, scarred up and down, chewed up and vomited out mug was your awakening? I mean you could have done worse, but-”
“Oh my god, this is so fucking embarassing.” Peter threw himself down, face first into the ground.
“It was just when I first met you, the first few times, you were so nice and you're all big and muscley- Oh God, please forget every word I just said.” Peter groaned loudly, with it letting all his agony out.
He ignored the snickers and continued, “But then I got to know you and we are friends and I want you as nothing other than my friend, so please don’t start to flirt with me like you do with Matt or everyone else. That makes me uncomfortable,” he stresses.
Not to mention that he was a freaking minor and not seriously interested in older people, but he can still appreciate the look. Really confused the hell out of Peter when he suddenly felt the swoopy-doopies in his stomach when he had seen Wade and then with all sorts of people with a big fucking built, like hunks of muscles, until he realised that maybe yeah, men are fucking gorgous, too. Especially the really big and bulky ones.
He still would never pursue anything with someone older. He knows it’s wrong and regularly breaks predators arms or punches their teeth down their throat, ‘cause they deserve it.
They are all snickering or openly laughing at him.
Peter decides they had enough fun . Just as Matt regains some sort of composure and wants to jump at him he grabs his stuff and runs over to the edge of the building yelling a very annoyed “You are all the worst!” before leaping off.
Matt jumped over from the nearby rooftop and calmly walked up to Peter who sat on the ledge, slumped. As he sits down beside him he asks “Do you think I could convince Frank to let me drive his car?”
“Nah- but Clint will definitely,” Peter replied unenthusiastically.
“You seem grumpier than usual.”
Yeah that’s one way to put it. Today was a shitty day and even though he thinks he did the right thing- no, he knows he did the right thing, it comes with so many possible horrible consequences that he just feels awful. It didn’t matter if he acted differently, the situation would have ended shit either way.
“Yeah,” was all he could muster up and sighed exhausted.
“Wanna talk about it?” Matt nudged him with his shoulder.
Whenever he had a shitty mood, like now, the man had this encouraging and calming tone in his voice. He slightly leaned onto his side before he began, unsure, “It’s just- I heard a little boy-”
Peter took a deep breath, braced himself a little against the emotions resurfacing in his chest. “He got beaten and was crying. It was bad. So I went there and I stopped his father, I think? I stayed with him till the police and EMT came but he just didn’t stop crying and I-” his voice choked up but he bit it down and continued, head hanging low, “his mum is dead and his father was his last living relative. He’ll have to go into foster care.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” he breathes defeated.
They sit in silence for a while before Matt pipes up again from his side and tries to comfort him a bit, thinking out loud, “The foster system is horrible but you know that there are great homes, too. Maybe he’s one of the lucky ones.”
Frustration bubbled up in Peter. Matt doesn’t know what he is talking about. Sure, he was in the orphanage but that is a whole other deal than being sent from place to place, from strangers to strangers without being able to call it your home.
Peter let it all show in his voice, too, as he retorted, “You only say that because you don’t know how terrible it really is.”
Yes, he knew that there were great homes. He was in one of those before they decided to give him up again after a simple slip up.
And the rest? There are too many uncaring social workers, too little control. Seemingly everybody can become a foster parent and sack the benefits without actually caring for the children in need. The system is broken. He was beaten and pushed around by strangers he was forced to live with without ever having a say.
All these pent up emotions surfaced again and Peter had to clench the fists at his side to contain himself and his anger.
“You were in the system,” Matt asks him. There is interest and a little surprise in his tone.
Peter keeps personal information about him and his life outside and before the mask close to his chest. Normally he doesn’t talk about things that could link him somehow to his identity but they didn’t even have his age and there are so many children in foster care. It doesn’t matter sharing this.
He responded apathetically, “Yeah. Three different families and two group homes in a year or so. It was terrible.”
“Did you get emancipated or turn 18?”
“Neither, I ran.” That made the man turn, looking kind of shocked and Peter most definitely didn’t wanna discuss this further on.
Thankfully, before the older man beside him was able to answer, the burner in his jacket rang out. WADE-WADE-WADE
“Yes,” he answered the call.
Sounds of fighting were heard first. In between shots Wade shouted “Rose Hill, 23rd and something. Some A-Team level shit.” More shots rang followed by a crash and heavy panting. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m shooting at, but if I had to guess-” A deafening explosion was heard. “Those are some feral gone animals, but like, not the cute zoo animal one’s, more like the mixed, experimental Spy Kids 2 kinda way. They have some things on their heads but I’m not getting close enough”
“We’re on our way. ETA 10 minutes.”
“I’m gonna call Clint after. See ya’ kisses,” he says before the line disconnects and they jump making their way to the fight.
When they arrived there were overwhelmingly many of those things. They attacked everything and everyone and all of them were different. Mixtures of different animals, like a tiger but with the spike from a scorpion and tongue from a snake. A few, for example a moth-pig-cat-mix or the colibri-shark-thing, could fly which was absolutely terrifying.
It was mayhem.
They found Deadpool soon after they arrived by following the irregular gunshots.
“Oh man, I just wanted a mani-pedi and suddenly they were absolutely everywhere,” he greeted them before dropping right into mission mode. “Red, you can’t really do shit fighting against them. Their pretty shield with their shells or whatever makes their skin so thick. The others are here in a second and we get comms. You do your listening thing and keep us updated where they are. There are a lot of those fucked up puppies and I’m not sure if some are already in the buildings or sewers. And can someone please tell my why the fuck they are so fucking big?!”
Right on time Iron Man dropped down with Clint in hand.
“The others will be here shortly. What-” As he looks around and spotted a scorpion-cat kinda thing he pauses for a second only to say, “-the hell kind of Spy Kids shit is that?”
Wade made an overexaggerated gesture in Clint’s direction shouting, “That’s exactly what I said!”
“Do we know where they came from or if they are controlled,” Iron Man interferes. His tone suggests that he’s not interested in a conversation with the merc.
“Oh don’t get all twisty-panty. I don’t know where they came from. I just stumbled upon them. They have something on their heads by the way. I managed to kill one but as soon as it died the thing exploded.” Wade made a hand explosion beside his head and a whisper-speaks, boom .
“I’ll web one up and Mr. Stark can scan it. We need to be quick. I can hear some of them try to get into the buildings and others get too far away.”
Peter is not used to working with so many people at once. Normally he comes up with a plan in head pretty quickly and just wings it from there. When he works something in their little vigilante group they are normally ‘prepared’. But bigger stuff like this, guys like the Rhino, his mind is racing, calculating moves, analyzing patterns. Like it did now.
He didn’t even notice when he started to give out orders like he did. “Red and Clint get up on a that-” pointing at the finance tower the street down, “building. DD, listen for the things and give their location through the comms like DP said. Clint can shoot them from up top and give you protection.”
Matt grumbled a bit at that but nodded. Holding out a hand for Clint to put a comm into. Deadpool and Spider-Man copied his motion while he speaks on, “The Captain and Ms. Romanoff are coming from north. They’ll hold the perimeter on 23rd and Park. DP, you get in that building and evacuate the people into the basement. I think a moth-thing is trying to get in from the top. Go!”
Peter ignored the 'Authority looks sexy on you' shout from Deadpool as he ran to the building Peter pointed out, “Mr. Stark, who else is coming?”
“War Machine, Falcon and Barnes,” he responded.
“War Machine closes on the 17th. They should not get past Union Spare. Sergeant Barnes and the Falcon go to 19th and 3rd. Comms on, copy?”
Multiple copy’s were heard so Peter closes with “Ok let’s go. I’ll try ‘n web one up. You’ll get Clint and Daredevil on the roof. Everyone, aim to kill but away from buildings and people. They explode when they die.”
“Sure. Ha, Cap you hear that? How’s getting orders from a wanted vigilante,” Tony jokes as he grabs both the archer and Devil by their gear in the back and scoots into the sky.
“As long as Deadpool doesn’t try to give me orders, I’m fine,” Steve responded but his tone sounded a bit disgruntled. He wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of leaving the orders to someone outside the team even though they already worked with Spider-Man in the past.
“You wound me, Captain,” Deadpool says, way too chippy and starstruck.
Just then it kind of settled in for Peter that he just told all those very much more experienced and older hero's what to do and they listened to him.
Before the warm pride could spread in his chest he spotted one of the monsters. Peter decided that ‘monster’ would be the perfect word to describe those things and that it would be the chosen one for his task.
It was large, hunky like a buffalo but much bigger in size and with some kind of turtle shell covering its back, rousing dark hair sticking out from all around it. It had a long tail swinging freely as it made its way over to a cornershop. The sharp teeth sparkle in the afternoon sun as it lets out a deep, chesty growl.
His eyes are fixed now on the two people still in the shop, both not moving, petrified. The young hero could hear the shuddered breaths, the soft spoken swears as they kept watching the monster through the window, obviously fighting a mental battle, deciding between running away and not moving at all. Any movement could make the thing bold, charge at them. It looked ready, too, as it pawed the grounds and jerked his horned head.
Peter quickly shot a web at a nearby lamppost and swung himself on top to be in the monster's dead angle. He doesn't know how fast or strong it is so he has to be quick and guess how much strength he has to use. He didn’t want to accidentally kill it.
Just as it was about to take off into the shop Peter’s hairs stood and he jumped from the lamp straight at the head. Gripping one of the monsters' horns, he swung around and used the momentum to take the head with him and successfully made it tumble and roll over itself on the street a few times, adding some scratches to its shell and considerably denting the car it crashed into.
The people from the shop were gone and had probably used the opportunity to flee through the backdoor.
The monster stood back on its feet only moments later, charging at Peter who stayed in the middle of the street thinking about how to subdue it without causing lethal harm.
Before it could hit the small vigilante, he jumped to the side, shooting a web to one of its legs, yanking hard and causing it to tumble again. With the web in his hand and the monster distracted in trying to stand up again, he ran around it, closing in at the same time.
Another four webs later and a lap around the legs of the struggling ‘animal’ were secured. Not trusting his luck and the strength of his webs, he webbed all around the monster's body, trapping it to the ground where it was growling and thrashing against the restrictions.
“I got one. Iron Man-”
Mr. Stark cut him off “Yeah, coming.”
And a second later he was zooming around the corner and hovering over the thing. A blue light emitted from his suit scanning the monster.
“Collar ‘s got a signature I can trace.”
While Iron Man did his thing, shooting back into the sky, presumably following the lead, Peter turned his attention back on safely subduing the roaming monsters. They scattered slightly as the heros had gone into position and coordinated their move.
He shot webs out and flung himself up to the side of a building to have a better overview of his area.
Just then one of the flying ones turned into his street. Peter swung up and over to another building closer to the car-sized monster. It had noticed movements of people behind one of the glass fronts. A shrill noise sounded from the thing before it began to scratch the windows with its claws.
The office people who, who would have thought, had stayed behind to watch the chaos develop now began to scream as one claw pierced through the glass with a forceful thrust. At least now they scrambled to the staircases and fled the scene.
Peter had swung himself over to be on the same building but several stories up. He stuck two strings of webs to each of his sides, took several steps back to stretch them with a lot of strength and then let himself go, sending him flying down to the monster like a projectile of a slingshot.
Hands first, he met the ‘bird’ on the top of its head, successfully pushing it downwards and away from the now destroyed window. It flailed, trying to get away from him but Peter, after a short grabble, grasped it harder, sending a hard kick out against one of the wings which caused an audible crack and another shriek.
They met the ground with some force. The monsters back first and Peter on top, pushing after.
It died on impact which didn’t leave him with much time. The almost silent beeping of the collar began already. He connected a web to it, ran a few steps and threw the thing up in the air, straining the muscles in his arms. It exploded up, over the wide street between the buildings and away from causing even more harm.
A few windows busted and there was a considerable dent where they had met the street earlier but the buildings stayed intact.
“Spider-Man,” Clint piped up through the comm’s before he even had a minute to rest.
Peter panted slightly and webbed up a bleeding scratch on his arm when he replied, “Yes?”
“We have one of your kind climbing up our building and my arrows barely scratch the skin.”
He ran and jumped up to swing in the direction of the building Clint and Matt were on top of. “It probably has an exoskeleton. They don’t have bones but this really thick skin which is really interesting. I think I also have some type of-”
Clint cut him off, “Yeah, that’s cool and all but how do I stop it before it’s on the roof?”
“What is it mixed with?”
“An octopus and something lizardy? I don’t know.”
“That’s so cool,” he says under his breath because, wow, from a scientific point of view it is extraordinary. Are the octopus’ hearts in the spider’s legs? Is the skin even thicker because of the lizard aspect? What kind of eyes does it have?
“I’m one my way,” he follows up. “Aim for the joints. They should be fragile enough for your arrows to puncture.”
Peter entered the rooftop from the opposite side of the monster. Clint stood perched on the railing and continued to shoot arrows down over the edge. Both men, obviously annoyed with each other, were arguing loudly over where the archer should aim for and that he isn’t doing it right.
Just as the younger vigilante joined the two, the spider, approximately the size of a queen size bed crawled over the edge. Matt tried to hit it in the joints with his billy club but got pushed back suddenly and fast by one of the legs. He flew over the rooftop back into the wall and doorway where he fell onto the ground in a heap and struggled to stand up again.
“Protect DD,” Peter shouted at Clint before he jumped and karate kicked one of the legs straight through.
Breaking the other legs was harder than he thought. The thing was not only fast as hell but the skin exoskeleton withstood a whole lot of pressure. Peter had to constantly use a whole lot of his strength in an attempt to harm it which worked out only half the time as it moved swiftly to avoid the hits. As if it knew the danger before it striked. Like his spider-sense.
Thankfully the monster had trouble attacking him, too, for the exact same reason.
But following his own advice he focused on the joints and pushed himself to move faster before it had the chance to react. Ducking and rolling in between the legs before sending out kicks and throws.
After he was done with the legs and only a squirming body was left, Peter did the same as before. He attached a web and with a short, “be ready Clint,” he threw it up into the air where the archer shot an explosive arrow straight at the now accessible weak, soft tissue, making the rest of it blow up.
“How many do you think are left,” Clint asked as he helped Daredevil into a sitting position against the rooftop door.
“‘Not sure. I hear two close by,” he replied, heavily breathing. Then into the comms, “Status everyone?”
Fighting those things strained him a lot more than fighting normal humans. This was nothing like fighting on patrol or even highly trained individuals.
Maybe he also hadn’t had enough to eat because his energy was fading fastly. Peter stood hunched over, resting with his hands on his knees and catching his breath while listening to the others in the comms.
Sam asked, a little stressed, “How do you kill a rhino-crocodile?”
“Aim inside the mouth,” Natasha suggests.
“How am I supposed to- Oh never mind. Bucky did it. Does Daredevil have anything else for us?”
Peter stood straight again to look at Clint who was still tending and testing Matt’s hearing with him. “He is out of commission.”
Walking over to the edge he closed his eyes and focused out to the distinctive thruster and noises the wings making gliding through the air. It took a while because Sam and Bucky were the furthest from his current position but after he found them, Peter concentrated harder for any screams or unusual sounds in the same area. Talking, shouting and scrambling people were all around, especially where the fighting concentrated. But there was also a sound he couldn’t connect to anything he knew. “I think one is in the sewers a block south from your position.”
“I 'got the guy,” Mister Stark sounds through the comms. “I have the location of the things and am sending you the information for the ones you're closest to … now.” After a short pause he continues almost bored, “He didn’t even have a fucking agenda. Like do bad people just get bored nowadays?”
Peter tuned Deadpools reply out as he heard a loud quack .
A resonating, deep bassy quack.
The wet slapping sound was next. Peter jogged over to the direction it was coming from, looked over the edge and there it was.
A big ass frog.
It looked almost normal in comparison to the other ones as it only had horns on both sides of its head. They were not thick or twirled enough to be goats’, so maybe from an antelope?
Maybe this one will be a bit easier to subdue , Peter thought to himself.
Just then it opened its mouth, wide and big like a snakes' and a long tongue shot out like a bullet at one of the cars on the street. The vehicle got pulled back with the tongue to the mouth a second later, crushed between the shark-like rows of teeth.
And yeah, of- fucking -course this couldn’t be a normal one.
The monster seemed to notice that the car wasn’t edible and spit it out again, crushed and crumbling into bits.
The young vigilante took a few steps back, ran up and jumped over the edge. He caught himself on the building at the opposite side of the street, now considerably closer to the frog but still out of its view.
Peter shot webs out in a rapid fire in an attempt to fixate it on the ground but with much frustration he realized that they weren’t sticking because of its slimy surface.
He had to fight it at close range.
Do I have time to get a sandwich before , Peter thought to himself. It would definitely help with his energy level. But as the monster noticed the webs it turned in the attention focused on him. No sandwich then. Great.
Frog and spider. Is this some kind of sick nature documentary joke about how he’ll die?
It’s not a cool enough of a way to peace out of life, Peter decides. No way he’s gonna let himself be eaten by a giant slimy frog. No, thank you.
So he jumps out of the way as the tongue shots out to him. Only barely though as the glass he sat on splintered and broke into pieces where the tongue landed.
Peter runs over the glass front to where the broken car parts are laying on the street. The tongue shooting out to him again and again before the frog suddenly jumps and splatt lands behind him on the glass front where it now had a clear line of fire at Peter.
Again, he was only barely able to get out of the way. His spider-sense frying him in his neck on an all time high.
There was chatter and tips over the comms on how to overcome the monsters. Peter ignored it in favor of dealing with his own at the moment.
As he reaches the car, he doesn’t waste any time and wrenches one of the bigger, sharp metal pieces off it. The frog-monster is in the street again, still charging at him. Peter dodges left and right, everytime closer to getting striked. A low, almost growling noise sounds from the frog, looking more agitated with every missed shot of its tongue.
Peter shot out a web against a building, pulled and jumped up to the second story where he waited for the next attack. The next shot.
Which came and he, again, dodged. As it needs time to retract its tongue back, Peter pushes himself off the wall, jumping with the sharpest edge of metal raised straight at the monster.
What he didn’t anticipate was for it to jump towards him, changing the angle and by that avoiding a lethal blow. He couldn’t change anything about his trajectory so he fell against the slimy skin, on which he was barely able to stick to, the metal hardly scraping it.
Peter, now on top of the frog, tried to ram the metal inside it again. But it moved and thrashed and tried to shake the small spider off.
The vigilante did it eventually, with a loud shriek and another growling sound as it pierced the thick skin. Peter didn’t waste any time to pull it out and shove it back into the frog's back side.
And again and again until, with the last of the monster's strength, and even more thrashing, it uncoordinatedly jumped up, hitting the side of the building with its side. It made Peter lose his grip almost completely. They fell back to the street where they crashed on top of a car.
He only had one hand left sticking to it, being thrown to all sides and against the horns with the movement. One last forceful shake and Peter flew back. Tumbling and rolling over the street where he eventually landed on his back.
The boom of explosion sounded just moments later.
He did it.
Peter breathed heavily and pulled up his mask to the bridge of his nose to let the air more easily enter his lungs. Sweat prickled his face under the mask and his hands trembled from exhaustion.
Staying down and catching his breath for a second sounded like a good idea, so he stayed there, laying on his back, looking at the cloudy sky.
“We killed the last few on our end. Does anyone need help,” Sam asks through the comms.
Steve sounded a little out of breath when he answered, “No, we're done, too.”
“Yeah, me, too. Damn, my thing exploded all over the suit,” Rhodey said disgustedly. His thrusters are heard and he’s probably doing rounds right now, making sure they dealt with everything.
“Daredevil is pretty concussed but we’re fine so far,” Clint’s familiar voice says next. It’s nice to hear that DD is ok enough. He couldn’t check up on him because of that stupid frog.
Why would someone want to set those things free anyway? There is nothing ethical about experimenting on animals like that. And even if, why would you waste away your smarts like that? Instead of creating those things you could have just put in the energy and work to create something useful. Bio-engineering stuff to help the broader population. Plus, you won’t be making any money endangering people like that and landing yourself in prison.
No, you need to let loose a bunch of highly aggressive, dangerous animals in New York. What the fuck.
“I’m not seeing anymore of those things. Tony, Rhodey, can you check if those were all,” the archers voice interrupts his inner rant.
“Yeah it seems like it. I can’t see anything on the scanners,” Iron man answers dutifully which Rhodey confirmed. It leads to them both bickering, Tony complaining that if his scanners won’t show anything neither would Rhodey’s, making his comment irrelevant. Tony then gets called a drama queen by his friend and argues that they were both asked.
Clint cuts in, “Spider-Man, you ok? You didn’t say anything for a while?”
What a great friend he is. I don’t deserve it, a small voice says in his head but Peter just slightly looks around himself, lifting his head, not standing up and replies, “Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m on the 22nd, I think? Just a little tired. Let’s meet here then we can talk about who will work with fire and rescue, clean up etc.”
He lets his head drop back to the ground and sighs.
He’ll just stay there until they're with him. He can stand up then.
Now that the tiredness kicked in, his senses dulled a bit so he closed his eyelids just for a moment and his breathing slowed.
When Iron-Man landed beside him he couldn’t even flinch or jump, that's how exhausted he felt. He was out of it already. I thought I ate enough, why am I so tired? Peter thought to himself.
“Hey Spider-ling, good job today. Really showed - how do you call him again when we’re not fighting, oh yeah - you really showed Mr. America how it’s done.”
War-Machine and the Falcon, with Bucky in hand, landed beside them. Steve and Natasha were coming down the road on a motorcycle.
“You good down there,” Barnes asked amused.
“Me? Oh, yeah yeah, I just need a minute. Not enough sleep or food or water, you know how it is.” He chuckled humorlessly to himself with the little energy he still had.
“How about Mr. America will talk to the media people with Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Stark will talk to Damage control. Clint and Daredevil will go to the Tower’s medbay and the rest can look through the buildings if anyone needs medical attention. Good?”
He opened his eyes to see an amused team looking down at him. He flushed under his mask and stammered his way through the next thing he said, “Oh, I mean, Mr. America sir, you can take charge again if you want to. Sorry. I just- just wanted to help. I don’t normally work with so many people. It was really nice that you listened to my order- ah- suggestions. It is nice to work with you all, like really great. Clint always-”
“What do I always-?” Clint joins the group supporting Daredevil on his side and Deadpool close behind skipping, his guns swinging wildly with his arms.
“Baby-boi, you did a great job today. You Steve Rogered the hell out of the fight,” he exclaims with way too much excitement for Peter’s level of exhaustion as he crouches down beside him.
Sam Wilson eyes him up a bit concerned. “You ok there? You are still laying on the floor.”
“Oh yeah.” Peter pushes himself off the ground. His vision blurred dangerously and he sways on the spot where he now stands in front of everyone.
Just then the pain registered with him. It shoots from his back through his whole body like an electrical shock.
That horn thing must have somehow punctured him in the back. As he tries to turn to look at it pain flares through his whole body and he sees white for a moment, gasping sharply.
It is a miracle that he can even hold himself up at this point, his legs probably logged in place.
That horn thing is still inside him and now that he had stood up and shifted it he began to sluggishly bleed out of the wound.
He breathes a pained, “Ah shit,” before his knees buckle under him and he falls forward into the arms of Deadpool, his injury coming into the full view of the team.
Peter is gasping for air at this point and he hears shouts around him but it’s hard to focus with the ringing in his ears which just adds to the pain in his whole body.
He says weakly with a small laugh, “I think I got hurt,” which erupts into coughing, red spraying to the asphalt.
“Yeah no shit Spidey! You got a fucking- I don’t even know what that is in your back right know You're a popsicle and you should not, and I can not stress this, not be a fucking popsicle. Not like this at least. Only in the fun way. Come on, stay awake. Say something I can’t really look into your eyes. We’ll take you to the tower and they will take care of you. Come on, say something-”
Wade's voice is frantic even though he tries to cover it with a fake calm. He knows the man too well though and he knows as well that if he reacts this paniced to an injury it’s really fucking bad.
Before the darkness can completely overtake him he says a breathy, barely above a whisper now, “Mask on.”
“Mask stays on, no worries. I’ll stay and make sure-”
The darkness wins before he can hear Wade finish.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Summary:
Peter's time in the tower.
Notes:
*trigger warning*
-incorrect medical descriptions
-underage drinking
-mentioned drugsHallo, Hallo,
I’m back. (yeah!) I would have probably posted sooner but I have a beta reader now (yeah again!) and she (my roomie) studies to be a dentist which is like, only a little easier from being an allround doctor or something and has a lot of exams to study for and logically not very much time for my long ass chapters. But she likes to do it and did it today so y’all can continue to read my story. (thanx roomie <3)
Comments make my day by the way. I fucking love comments. I’m grinning to myself like an idiot whenever I read them. I also love criticism and suggestions btw. Feel free to leave your thoughts!
Like always, have fun reading
lots o love
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Four hours. The surgery had been lasting for four hours already.
The team had trickled in one by one after the worst of the scene was dealt with and the emergency and damage control services took charge.
Freshly showered and in clean clothes they either dozed off in their chairs, Cap and Bucky, or talked about the things they fought, like how Tony filled in Bruce about the latest events and talked science with him. They had debriefed shortly in the waiting room but that had been two hours ago and Clint was more than ready for updates or literally anything to happen.
Beside him sat Matt, his leg nervously bouncing and probably listening to everything going on inside the room where Wade was, making sure the mask wouldn’t come off.
God, one moment everything was ok and the next Spider-Man just fell forward revealing the big ass horn in his lower bag.
Everyone had scrambled to help after. The time had been a blur in between him slumping and now, sitting in the waiting room of the med-bay.
He had given Matt some clothes and a new mask and he seemed mostly ok by now. A concussion is nothing they hadn’t dealt with before. His senses had gone a bit haywire after the hit he took, but they were mostly fine by now, just an annoying ringing and a headache to deal with, he had told the archer.
They should all probably get some sleep and rest as fighting these things off turned out to be extremely tiring. But none of them would be able to go without knowing what happened to Spider-Man.
Matt stood even before the door opened and Clint followed suit. His crazy bat-ears must have picked something up.
Not even a minute later Dr. Cho came and with an exhausted sigh concluded for the team right away, “Spider-Man is in stable condition. He woke up one time during the surgery but we figured out a dosage which will keep him under for about three to four hours more. No major organs were critically injured. His left kidney and part of his intestines were damaged. We cleaned anything and are treating him with different antibiotics. There was no damage done to the spine and lungs which had been our biggest concern. Beside the back injury he suffered four broken ribs, bruises of different severity and couple of other minor lacerations. We are giving him transfusions for the blood loss and nutritions to kickstart his enhanced metabolism and healing as well as antibiotics. Deadpool informed us on some of his enhancements during the surgery.”
“His body and enhancements are fascinating. We had to reopen his skin because it kept on mending itself. He will need bedrest for at least a few days and will have a full recovery but with his anatomy I can’t make any assumptions when that will be.”
A collective sigh of relief went through the room. Clint inhaled deeply, only noticing now how he had held his breath in anticipation.
Thank God, he will be alright.
Spider-Man is one of the younger players in the game and ever since he met him, Clint felt protective over the guy. He wasn’t the only one. Practically every vigilante in town felt that way and everyone had at least tried a couple of times to stop him from living this life until they realized that he not only wasn’t going to stop but also a highly competent person and fighter you want on your side as an asset.
But right now, it really sinks in again, that Spider-Man is just a young guy. Really young.
Maybe he should ask again how young exactly.
“Five days maximum,” Matt said from his side. His tone relieved and shoulders losing some of their tension at the news, too. The older vigilante probably felt similar to him right now.
“Nah- I say three max,” Wade replies challengingly, coming out of the room now, too. His tone shortly turned serious when he told Clint and Matt, “The mask stayed on.”
Clint laughed, relieved at the good news and the easy way his friends already diffused the tension and nerves which had uncomfortably built up over time. (He also laughed at the look of Wade not only in his costume but in scrubs on top of it.) “Maybe we should call him Cockroach-Man with the shit he survived already.”
“Ha- like that one time when he walked into DP’s place with three knives sticking out of him and he just asked if we were having Mexican,” Matt joined him amused, laughing, too, both ignoring the looks everyone except Wade sent them and obvious confusion in the room.
The doctor chimed in with interest, “How long had his recovery time been?”
“Oh, he was up and running two days later. I don’t think he was fully healed but enough to swing around again,” Clint answered her and she began to tap down into her tablet.
“Can we see him,” Matt asks, his tone now serious. Wade slung an arm around the other man leading him in the room as Dr. Cho confirmed the request.
Clint followed suit as well as pretty much everyone else. No one would be leaving without having at least checked on Spider-Man themselves, that he is actually fine.
Wade, Matt and Clint himself stood closest to him around his bed. DD’s had tilted slightly, bumping into Wade as the bigger man's arm was still around his shoulders. He probably scanned him head to toe himself, assessing every injury and the internal medical work done. Sniffing for infections, listening to bones, assessing the temperature of the injured body parts or whatever else weird shit he did.
Clint took a chair from the side of the room and sank down into it. No way he was going to leave until Spidey woke up. If he had to wait, he could do it at least semi-comfortably.
“Is it just me or does he look even smaller than usual?” Rhodey broke the silence first after entering the room and he was right. Spider-Man laid there in his big hospital bed, covered in bandages, drowning under the sterile-looking white sheet for a blanket and with just his mask left from his suit. The view would have probably been comical if it weren’t for the man’s thin arms and almost scrawny looking- everything .
Clint had seen him lift a car once and he wasn’t exactly sure how that was possible. He practically looked like skin, bones and a thin layer of muscles in between. Not like Steve, Bucky’s, Wade or even his own bulk though, but more as if he had absolutely no fat on his body and it was now eating away from his muscles to gain the energy needed.
But he had also seen Jessica lift a car and she wasn’t exactly the athletic type either.
No, that wasn’t the same. He was too thin. Clint would bring it up later with Wade and Matt when there weren’t so many interested pairs of ears present.
“The little pretzel can be even smaller if he wants to,” Wade cuts his thoughts off. “Do you think his limbs will contract like a spider once he manages to die for real?” The merc turned slightly to look at Daredevil, his arm still around the smaller man, and wow - What a question was that Wade?
“Hmm- not sure.” Matt sounds like he’s seriously contemplating the question. Then his tone changes into a mocking kind of tone. “But you don’t actually believe him to be part spider, do you?”
Clint now chimed in, too, because there is no way the guy has not some type of spider-stuff going on. “I mean he has enough characteristics and you told us that he told the truth.”
He shakes his head and says flatly, “Believing to be telling the truth and the actual truth are two different things.”
“I think his body would do that leg contracting thing. I mean his bones and skin are weird, too. So why wouldn’t they,” the archer replies.
“Maybe he has eight eyes and that’s why he never takes the mask off,” Wade adds.
Clint doesn’t even notice how they drift off into one of their weird discussion bubbles and that other people, his other teammates were present, too and were probably not only questioning Wade’s sanity right about now.
“He said he has a normal job, that he works with people. I think we would have heard if someone walks around with eight eyes. Even if -and that’s a big if- he were part spider, he couldn’t have changed that much, right? I mean there is only so much a person can survive,” Matt argues, even though he got splashed with chemicals and survived it and Wade , who, like how the fuck do you survive the shit that happened to him to activate his mutation, stands beside him, alive . “I still think he has the x-gen.”
“Nahh, he doesn’t and you know it,” Clint cut’s that discussion right off, because they had it way too often already. “What if one of those thin spider’s bit him and that’s why he is so skinny.”
“No, he said it was- what was it again- one of those black ones, with the blue- ahhh- and radioactive- it’s at the top of my tongue- I think it’s- he told me the name, I know it- ohh what WAS IT,” Wade babbles on and shakes his head every now and then when Bruce chimed in with suggestions which spider he could mean.
Clint is vaguely aware that some of the other Avengers were filtering out of the room again and he was pretty sure he heard Sam say to Bucky or Rhodey, “Man, that conversation got way too weird, way too fast.”
And one of them answered, “Yeah, I’m out,” before they left.
Doesn’t matter though because apparently he had to argue the fact that Spider-Man can’t be an X-Men, again .
It was on his third day in the tower's med bay when his patience broke.
He was fully healed thanks to all the IV’s pumped into him and unlimited access to food which really did wonders to his health. His body ate that shit up like there was no tomorrow. The normal tiredness was gone almost completely and he was pretty sure that he gained a few pounds, making his body feel less bamboo-sticky and boney.
Clint knew, too. He knew Peter was healed for sure.
Peter suspected that he insisted on him staying there because he cared and got scared when he almost bled out the other day but he didn’t have to be such an asshole about it. The archer kept cooing at him like he would to a toddler and used the smallest remains of his injury to force him to stay in bed. Wade and Matt completely supported him in his efforts to make Peter’s life hell.
(And ok, yeah, maybe it felt kind of good being cared for and looked after. Not that he would admit it.)
Sure, it was nice to wake up without stiff limbs and there were always people joining him in his room to keep him company. He even got to talk to the Bruce Banner. If he weren’t already laying in bed he would have probably fainted. It was so cool.
But he will probably go insane if he has to stay in bed for one more day.
The team also got to know just how big of a nerd he actually was during their visits. Clint, Matt and Wade had an idea that their spidery friend was smart but they didn’t get the extent ‘til they heard him gushing and ramble about gamma radiation, quantum physics and the workings of the Iron-Man suit to Banner and Stark who seemed baffled by the amount of knowledge and understanding Spider-Man showed.
He did it all at once, too, confusing the hell out of the rest of the team who stood nearby, perplexed by the scene unfolding in front of them. None of them expected Spider-Man to be so intelligent.
Many hours were spent with the two older geniuses sitting beside him in the hospital bed talking with Peter about his powers and tech. Banner asked to draw some blood but the bed bound vigilante stopped that idea immediately, not wanting them to discover his identity through his DNA or experiment with it. Bad enough that the medical team had to run tests with a small amount to know his blood type but they assured him that they were secure and no one was allowed access without his permission.
The web-shooters themself took up a good two hours with Peter explaining the chemical components and the mechanical workings. Mr. Stark also voiced his interest in the bandages he made for Clint and their potential use in emergency services.
(Peter wished he had his books for them to sign. Man, he was meeting all these great scientists and he missed the chance.)
That was two days ago and probably the happiest day he had in a long time. It would have lasted longer if he hadn’t dozed off exhausted from his wounds and the strong medication running through his veins that could easily kill about six humans his size.
Right this minute Peter sat in bed, bored and fidgety from the lack of movement these last days.
His back healed up great and Dr. Cho, who he also spent hours talking with, told him so.
Peter could leave if he wanted to and maybe go for patrol. He had been scared when he came into the tower and actually had wanted to go the minute the doctors were done with him, like Matt had done. They practically had to bribe him into sleeping and pain medication for the night and he only took it because Clint and Wade promised not to leave his side to protect his identity.
That reluctance was gone the moment he woke up, not from a nightmare, not freezing and stiff, but cozy and well rested. The food he got was another big plus in making him stay longer than planned. Wade had to leave yesterday to the relief of every Avenger except Clint. He had joked with DP the whole time he was there. The archer was weirdly happy for them both to be in the tower even under these unfortunate circumstances. Like a child who was allowed to have his friends over for a playdate for the first time. It was funny to watch and Peter made fun of him together with Miss Romanoff.
Frank even called him through Clint one time after he had seen the fight on the news and Peter collapsing in a pool of blood. Told him he was stupid and to rest up. He also asked when they could train again which was sweet because Peter knew that was Frank’s way of asking to see him to check him over himself.
Peter sat up in bed and put on the clothes which were laid out for him. Hello Kitty pajama pants and an oversized New York shirt as well as some fuzzy socks. Clint probably wanted to embarrass him but he kind of liked Hello Kitty since Wade always had gear with it’s theme on it or mentioned it. Not that he would admit it to either one of them.
“Hey FRIDAY?”
“Spider-Man, how may I help you?”
“Can you take me to Clint? Like I can leave, can I?”
“Yes, you can leave whenever you want. Clint is in the training room with the entire team who are currently present in the tower. Just follow the blue line, it will show you the way.” The detached voice responded smoothly and as said a blue line appeared on the floor.
“Thank you!”
Peter was almost skipping, so happy to be able to move freely again without any pain. He needed to take the elevator up a few floors and his stomach swooped from the fast movement, it made him giddy. It was his first time in an elevator this fast and he asked FRIDAY a lot of technical questions on his way to the gym which she answered as reliable as always in these last few days.
He had always been scared that FRIDAY could maybe be too intrusive or invasive but now that they have ‘met’ he loved the A.I. and the conversations they shared. It fascinated Peter how Stark had managed to not only give her a personality but one so captivating, one he could even have personal exchanges with.
“The door in front of you leads to the training area with the Avengers present.”
“Thank you FRIDAY!”
“Always a pleasure, Spider-Man.”
Peter opened the door to Steve and Bucky sparring with Sam and Natasha standing by, her face empty, relaxed stand and arms crossed, analyzing every movement of the fight. Clint was chatting with Rhodey who did stretches on the floor beside him. His presence didn’t go unnoticed by Bruce and Tony who stood and walked over to him.
“Nice outfit Spidey,” Tony greeted him, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Hey, are you cleared by the doctors? Should you move already?”
“Dr. Banner, I will literally die of boredom if I have to spend one more hour in that hospital bed. I’m fine. I think it’s not more than a scratch on my back that will be gone by the evening.”
The others had stopped by the new voice and joined the conversation.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Clint laughed. Sam and Bucky snickered at the sight, too.
Peter looked down on himself, touching the soft pajama fabric and remembered the Hello Kitty attire he was currently sporting. His confusion was clear in his voice when he asked, “I thought you put them in my room? They were on the bedside table.”
“Oh no, I put them there for you,” Tony responded as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “I guessed you’d want to move around today with your process in healing.”
“Oh, eh- thanks?”
He waved him off and strode off to the place he and Banner were standing before. He didn’t really come here with a plan. He impulsively went to see Clint and now he was standing in front of the team in pajamas with no idea what to say. Thankfully, Natasha saved him before the silence could get any more awkward. “You want to join our training session?”
“Really?”
Wow Peter, take it down a notch, you sound like a child meeting his childhood heroes for the first time , which he totally wasn’t. (He met them all months ago already, fighting a bad guy.) “Yeah, sure, let’s do that.” He tried to sound casual and failed miserably going by Clint’s chuckle.
Bucky, Sam and Rhodey migrated away from the group to the weight equipment in the back. Bruce joined Tony again, sitting down and talking about stuff on a tablet he was holding. Natasha focused on Peter and asked, although it kind of sounded like a demand, “What kind of training do you have?”
“I spar with Daredevil on a regular basis and sometimes with Deadpool and F- and another friend, too. The other Defenders, too, but only on not as often as with the others.”
Clint interrupted,“Hey, don’t forget me! And Frank really trains with you? That's so funny. He would never do it with the rest of us. How did you convince him?”
“I didn’t convince him, he asked me. And he doesn’t train with you because he likes me best.” Clint did the thing any mature adult would do in the situation and stuck out his tongue at Peter.
“Do we know this Frank guy,” Steve asked.
Both Clint and Peter shared a look, not really knowing how to answer that. It was one thing to hang out with Deadpool but befriending and training with the Punisher? Well, let’s just say that wouldn't put a great light on either of them.
“No, no. You don’t know him. Let’s not talk about him.” Nat gave Clint a look which screamed an unbelieving Really? but didn’t comment further.
“How about we spar a bit,” the Captain suggested.
“Ah- yeah we can do that.”
Nat and Clint stood on the outside of their ‘ring’ and just as both Steve and Peter moved into a fighting stance the archer shouted, “Don’t go too hard on him,” over.
Cap responded with a short I won’t , but Clint just laughed and said, “I’m not talking to you.” Which irritated the soldier immensely judging his expression.
With Natasha’s, Let’s go , the fight started. Peter sensed the others watching from their respective places in the gym. It wasn’t a regular occurrence that a vigilante was training with the Captain America and they probably wanted to know how Spider-Man would hold himself. Besides maybe Banner and Stark who Peter had talked to, they didn’t really have an idea of his powers.
Steve tried a first attack which Peter could have dodged even without his spider-sense, seeing it coming a mile away. The bigger man took a step forward with his right leg to be in range to punch forward.
Peter concluded that Steve was holding back, testing the waters with him but the thing is he had been a vigilante for two and a half years now, half of that time he was training with different people all having different fighting techniques; Peter knew how to hold himself in a fight.
After a few more of those very obvious attacks Steve changed strategy and went faster after the small vigilante. A right hook that Peter dodged by bending backwards, using his momentum to backflip a few feet away was one of those blows he needed to use a little more skill on. The Captain right after him now tried to slide over to kick the feet from under Peter. He jumped up, but as Steve slid under him he grabbed Peter’s leg to pull him down onto the floor. The young vigilante caught himself with his hands on the mat and kicked back at Steve softly. He didn’t want to hurt one of his childhood heroes plus he didn’t know how much of his strength he could actually use on him, so he stuck to the level of force he was fighting people in the street.
That was obviously not enough because the Captain’s hand didn’t loosen around his ankle and a little smile crossed his face, thinking he had the upper hand.
Clint saw it as well and shouted over “Don’t hold back on him. He can take it.”
Peter wasn’t too certain about that and asked unconvinced, “Are you sure?”
“He’s a big boy, he can take it,” Nat responded with a cocky smirk.
Peter used a bit more force to swing his feet around with Steve still attached, causing him to tumble sideways and losing his grip. He was standing moments after and waited for Peter’s next move.
Peter however was noticing the new audience and stood unsure with how he felt about the new attention from the sidelines. The other Avengers had gathered near Clint and Nat, watching their fight with great interest.
Steve used the distraction and swung his fist full force at Peter who felt his sense spike in his neck and quickly caught the fist with his right hand. It was with seemingly such ease that Steve momentarily lost his composure and let his surprise show before quickly scolding himself and trying another attack. Peter simbly dodged and parried his attacks but never tried to actively attack himself.
The Captain tired out after a while but his attacks intensified in force with the frustration only hitting every once in a while to which Spider-Man seemed to be affected only momentarily before composing himself again. He managed to grab the small opponent around his middle and threw him back over his head into the ground which Peter rolled out of with a pained grunt. The formerly injured tissue in his back must not be completely healed yet, judging the way it felt when he took the blow.
“Come on. Why don’t you attack?” The frustration was clear as day.
Peter seemed reluctant to react to that but now that the Captain had gotten a good few hits in he couldn’t stop himself anymore. He was faster than the soldier but slowed with the added pain. So he started his own attacks, not able to rely on his speed anymore.
And he noted with interest, that, like himself, the Captain reacted similarly sparse to the pain which he must have felt with every successful strike. But in a fight there is no time for weakness, pain and rest.
Then, at one attempted hit by Rogers, he sidestepped while grabbing the Captains arm and twisted it backwards, the hand bent as far as he could without breaking it. He grabbed the shoulder with his other hand and kicked him in the space behind his knee with slightly more force than he had used the whole fight which made Steve fall to the ground.
It was done so fast that Steve couldn’t react in time. Peter, now on top of him with his knee shortly below the neck and the Captain’s twisted arm in his hands, he fixated Steve on the ground who tried to scramble out of the hold a few times until he frustratedly tapped out.
Steve was panting slightly when he stood. Peter on the other hand, still in the pj’s barely sweating, straightened up on the mat and watched the Captain while kicking his feet sheepishly to the ground. His side and back hurt but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.
“Great job Spidey,” Clint exclaimed loudly.
Steve stretched out his hand to Peter who took it, shaking. “You know I can take it if you punch me. You could have taken me out way faster.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m not sure how much you can actually take so I stuck to what unenhanced people with fighting experience can take.”
Nat moved to the conversation. “You still hold back a lot. How hard can you punch?”
Tony butted in excited and still amused from the Captains fail, “We can test it on Capsicle’s punching bags. The reinforced one’s.”
Now they all stood around Peter. He felt like an animal at the zoo but his inner scientist was interested in the extension of his powers, too. The ambulance thrown at him which he caught mid air or the building during the whole vulture incident made him guess what kind of things he could actually do with his powers but he never got to punch something full force.
He didn’t know how well these punching bags would hold against him even with the enforcement. He was giddy with excitement as to not needing to hold back. This time he didn’t need to think about the possibility of slipping and accidentally killing his opponent.
He tried to not lose control even though it got hard at times, meeting the worst of the worst type of people at night. Whenever that happened he thought about Ben and how he was a much better man than himself who never abused his power as a police officer and it helped him calm down. (Well- most times.)
“Don’t hold back Webs. I wanna see Cap’s face when you destroy that thing.” Clint said, sounding as enthusiastic as Peter felt.
He took a solid stand, breathed deeply and thought to himself Come on Peter, don’t embarrass yourself in front of earth's mightiest heroes. Let loose. And with that he swung his right arm and used all the strength he could muster up and punched the bag dead center.
He couldn’t even react as the bag snapped off its chain and flew into the back wall 15 feet away with such speed and force that it practically exploded against the concrete.
Peter blinked once, twice and relaxed his stand as his hand lifted to scratch his neck. The room was silent, everyone just looking at the remains of the bag.
“Sorry, haha,” Peter laughed awkwardly, with a slight hysterical tone in there as well.
Banner started to tap on his tablet rapidly in what Peter guessed to be a file about him, Stark started to laugh and ask if FRIDAY safed the footage as well as Steve’s expression which he was still stuck with, full of disbelief and a little amazement. Natasha just smirked.
Clint wrapped an arm around his shoulder and laughed, too. “Shit Spidey, I expected it to break but that was phenomenal! Did you hold back?” Peter shook his head no. “Wow! Amazing, buddy! That must be really annoying holding back like that all the time. I still remember the day when you punched a hole into the brick wall after that pervert was arrested.”
“Nice work маленький паук.”
“I’m not small. I’m fun-size,” he pouted.
“You speak russian?” Bucky asked disbelievingly.
“I was bored,” he answered as if it would explain anything.
“Come on, let's get a snack, my not-small, totally small friend.” Clint guided him to the door he came through earlier. The others followed leaving behind their baffled and absolutely gobsmacked Captain.
When they were out of hearing range Peter asked Clint tentatively if he shouldn’t have done that, if they would be mad that he broke their stuff to which the archer just laughed.
It was hours later now and Peter was sitting between the Avengers on the couch in their common room, eating take out and chatting with them. If his past self could see him right now he would lose it completely. What has his life become?
For a second he got nostalgic thinking about his family. They had those evenings, too, with too much greasy food and bad movies. Or game nights where his aunt seemed to win each and every game but Ben and Peter couldn't prove her cheating.
Moments like these, he had a little of it with his friends but it wasn’t the same, not if he couldn’t take off his mask and be truly himself. He knew they wouldn’t accept him like they did now, as one of them, a hero who fights crime and supernatural people and things like themself. Peter shook his head slightly, trying to lose the thought of his family again and just accept the moment as it was; without them.
They were drinking beer, relaxing and Peter used the opportunity to bring up the topic which had been stuck to the back of his mind the last few hours. “You know, now that my injuries are healed, I thought about heading out in the morning. Getting off your backs and stuff. I’m really grateful for the help and that I could stay here. I can’t really pay for the medical stuff, I’m sorry. If that’s not ok we can probably work something out.”
“You don’t have to pay for anything. We have the infirmary in the tower exactly for that reason, us being hurt in battle and in the lab. My interns and scientists are a bit clumsy at times.” Tony waved his hands absent mindedly so as to not bother.
“You can stay a few more days if you want.”
“That’s really nice of you, but I have a life outside of the mask and I kind of also want to take it off at some point. Normally I don’t wear it for days straight at a time.”
“Just so you know, you don’t have to wear it. We won’t share your secret,” Bruce said with an encouraging smile.
Clint barked a loud laugh at that, “Yeah, that won’t work. Daredevil, Deadpool and I have been trying to tell him that for months now.”
“How come you never told us that you know all these vigilantes and hang out with them?” Steve asked.
“Wait, Clint, did you never tell them about me?” Peter mocked offense, “Are you embarrassed of us? Or do they not know that you are basically one of us bad, no-good, very criminal vigilante’s”
“Oh now I’m one of you? Normally you all won’t shut up about me being one of the oh-so-mighty Avengers and that it’s such an honor to be graced with my presence and skill. That it’s so nice of me to fight for the little guy, too, even though it’s below my paygrade. ” Clint’s voice was dripping with sarcasm and the amount of finger quotes he had to use was getting absurd.
That seemed to confuse Rogers a lot since he questioned Peter, “What, the city's vigilantes don't like us?”
“It’s not like all of them don’t like you. I think you are alright.” Peter cringed inwardly as his response sounded even bad to himself.
He started to ramble and didn’t even notice how he dug his grave even deeper. “No, it’s not like we all hate you or something. It’s just you are up here a lot and only come if it’s an actual threat and like to everyday people there are a lot more threats than the big one’s. It’s just- we always get the bad press and are wanted by the police while you all fight much more destructive and get the praise we never get. That is just annoying after a few times, you know? And it’s not like they dislike all of you. Mr. Wilson is cool ‘cause he works in that vet-center and Dr. Banner because it’s different with the Hulk and because he has a day-job or Clint obviously because he is one of us even though we make fun of him all the time.”
Peter locked in their faces and knew he should have stopped talking a while ago. “Oof, wow, sorry. I didn’t tell you that if anyone asks. God, just please forget what I said.” Peter threw himself back into the cushions on the couch and groaned in embarrassment.
At Clint’s snickers of amusement Peter casts him a dirty look so clear they all could see it even through the mask.
“Maybe we should step up a bit and help out sometimes,” asked Steve. His focus never left the resident vigilante.
“Eh- Yeah, I don’t know. Manhattan actually already has enough protection so if you really want to help, maybe in Staten Island, Bronx and Brooklyn,” Peter suggested but it felt weird. Would they really go out and do work for the little guy?
Clint added, “Yeah, but maybe don’t make it big. People would just think it’s a publicity stunt if the Avengers began to patrol on a regular basis. It’s different with me because it’s well known that I worked with the community for some time now. But we can still help out every now and then. Maybe Double-D won’t be close to death every other week.” He said the last sentence grinning towards Peter who just laughed.
The conversation drifted apart after that. Smaller groups now chattered among themselves and most of them acquired a drink at some point. Peter was currently telling embarrassing stories about Clint to Natasha who even chuckled every now and then. He could have bursted with pride every time he heard the small noise. He, a crime fighting spider themed teenager could make the Natasha Romanoff laugh. Now I can die in peace , he thought to himself.
It was nice to sit so casually with people. Normally his only regular social contacts were the man he was currently sitting beside, a blind lawyer/vigilante, a mercenary and a ‘terrorist’. Not that it would be normal for someone like Peter Parker to do what they were doing. His underage drinking which didn’t affect him but still, the casual chatter with these above and beyond heros who are way older than him or that Peter was actually way stronger than anyone in the room (besides maybe the Hulk, but he was Banner right now). Nothing of this was normal.
The attention shifted back to Spider-Man when Sam asked something that seemed to have come up in his conversation with Bucky and Steve, “Hey Spider-Man, you can obviously fight and we have seen that before. How come we had never seen your strength like this before?”
Peter took a moment to react. Did they really ask him why they didn’t know that he was strong and could fight? What a stupid question. “People tend to forget or ignore my strength because I hold back a lot. I mean you have seen what happens when I don’t. I prefer other ways of fighting, than brute force.”
Clint continued, “Yeah, I mean I know for sure that we watched the news one time and Spidey caught that ambulance. We have fought together before. He just tents to evacuate civilians when we fight. It is really your fault that you just forgot about it.”
“And I am like, not new to the scene. I obviously hang out with Daredevil and Deadpool. Did you just think I couldn’t hold my own?”
They looked so funny from Peter’s perspective and it got even funnier when Clint continued, “The media also always portrays you as the harmless one from Team Red because Double-D and DP are known to leave a crime scene a bit bloodier. As if you don’t ruff them up as much or worse at times.” The stunned faces were too funny.
Peter snorted. Yeah it was true, sometimes he punched a bit harder. Not with petty crimes like a stolen purse or bike. He just webbs those up. Obviously he also doesn’t do it when he just helps the community, like carrying groceries and cats in trees, this stuff.
No, he uses a little more force then nessesary with the rapists, the murderers or anyone who hurts children. It’s true what Clint says, he hangs out with people who are portrayed as more brutal, which is true in some ways, but when he meets the scum of the earth, he doesn’t hold back as much as he did when he began as Spider-Man.
He would never kill them and still thinks people can change, deserve a second chance but that doesn’t mean that they don’t pay for what they did. Those people go into jail bruised and battered, more often than not with a broken nose, hand or leg.
“As if you are any different.” He laughs at Clint who laughs back.
He turns to the stunned group and says “Don’t worry, we don’t kill them. Or, well I don’t. Clint does sometimes. But it makes the job easier if they come out of jail and won’t try certain shit again. You know, ‘cause they remember the last time they tried to touch someone or murder or smuggle children. Those people only start to listen when their bones snap. Only when they cry for their life and swear they won’t do anything again before confessing everything to the police, we know they mean it. We make that happen and if that means a little blood is involved? I’m fine with that.”
For the first time the Avengers got to see another side of Spider-Man. Not the young, happy guy who always has a quipp for the bad guy but a darker side. Determined and threatening, a side they know from vigilantes like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
“How come you get injured all the time? I mean with the way you fought Cap, those low level criminals should be smooth sailing for you,” asked Sam.
Before Peter could even attempt to say anything, Clint answered for him, laughing around a wide grin, “That’s because he is an idiot. Of course it’s harder when you are out and about. There are factors you can’t take into consideration beforehand. Sometimes there are more people than expected, more or different weapons involved. But also because he gets distracted by the stupidest shit. He comes to us with a knife sticking out of his thigh and all he’s talking about is the bernadiner that he had seen.”
Peter nodded, tone serious, “Doggo’s are my greatest weakness, my kryptonite.”
They laughed and after a Sure nerd from Clint and him getting smacked in return the conversation drifted away again.
Peter argued with Tony, that he was in fact the Batman equivalent which seemed to offend him greatly, while Clint tried to convince them that he is much better of an archer than the famous movie characters like Arrow, Katniss and Legolas. All in all a great evening.
The days got shorter and the weather colder. Before he left the tower, Stark took him aside and gave him a suit. Not his as it was completely ruined by now. Not only had it a big gash in the back and blood all over but it was cut off from him when he entered the med bay. The only thing left in one piece was the mask he had been wearing this whole time.
Peter refused first. He could probably figure something out to wear again. But as he saw it with the web pattern all over and a spider emblem on the front he couldn’t refuse. Tony reassured him that it didn’t have any technical advancements that could track him somehow. It was merely a spandex-kevlar mixture material as well as an undersuit which would keep him warm through the winter.
He told the vigilante after he refused repeatedly that it was nothing and that Clint went through more suits than he could count and that it made sense now with his nightly activities.
In the end Peter took the suit as well as the new mask and web shooters which were a bit slicker than his, high tech and brand new. Not like his old banged up ones that clocked in the most annoying moments.
He couldn't even stop thanking Tony who just waved him off and told him to come by if it got ruined again, to get a new one.
Peter was swinging through the city now, looking at himself in the reflections of the windows of the skyscrapers he was passing. It felt so good to feel the pull in his arms as he held on to his webs, the whooshing in his stomach feeling flying up into the sky and again when he let himself fall to the ground.
The cold air didn’t bother him nearly as much as before.
As he stuck himself to the outside of a building, he breathed deeply, let himself fall backwards down to the street and as he nearly hit the ground he shot a web out, swinging up again. The thrill he felt, the excitement which filled every inch of him. It had been a while since he felt this alive.
When he arrived in Hell’s Kitchen it didn’t take him long to notice Wade and Matt already sitting on their roof together. He landed with a thud behind them which startled Wade so much he shouted out for a second before grabbing to his chest and breathing heavily. Peter ignored him and asked, “Do you think my children will also have spider-powers?”
“Shit Spidey, I think you gave me a heart attack,” Wade said before he rightened himself up again from his cowering position and looking at the other vigilante. His hands flew to his face, surprise showing “Oh wow! Your costume looks amazing! Where did you get it from? Do a twirl! And yeah if you can get kids that is. Like be careful with your stuff. Maybe it's radioactive and you kill your lady with it like in that one comic.”
“Tony gave it to me today when I left the tower. He said that he couldn’t watch me jump around in sweatpants anymore. I didn’t want to take it but he said that it’s made already, that they wouldn’t have a use for it otherwise so I took it. And that was a horrible answer, thank you for unlocking a new insecurity.” Peter’s voice was excited except for the last part he deadpanned.
“You're welcome and it looks great! Not nearly as nice as I could have made it, but still-” He gave thumbs up. “If they didn’t before, everyone will look after you in that tight of a suit. The Bugle will flip at the pictures.”
Peter laughed, “Yeah sure DP. I’ll probably come back to you when it needs stitches or alterations.”
“You better!”
The evening was spent like that, talking about the suit, describing it to Matt who said something along the lines of, A little on the nose, don’t you think , to which they laughed at him, told him that he was the guy walking around in a hot red suit with devil horns. Wade told him that he was also the inspiration for many kinks online and that he totally supports Matt in parading his so openly.
Matt broke one of his fingers in a short grabble, for that comment.
Peter also told them about his sparr with Captain America and that he destroyed his punching bag. They went out on patrol together and Wade bothered him the whole night that he should punch Wade in the chest full force and see what happens. Peter declined repeatedly and regretted ever telling him about it.
They stopped a few muggers, one person who tried to assault someone and stopped some drug deals. A quiet evening.
Everything was pretty normal until on his way ‘home’ at around four o’clock. Just as he jumped over a few roofs, like he often did to not waste his webs, he picked up on a weird smell. He followed it to a warehouse which was mostly empty except for a few tables and lab equipment. Some beakers were fallen over or broken which resulted in the chemicals mixing and emitting the smoke Peter smelled.
It looked like an abandoned drug lab, nothing special, nothing he hadn’t seen before. The only weird thing about it was the way everything seemed to be packed up hastily as things were still laying around and the chemicals were still smoking. That means that the people have probably left not too long ago.
Peter climbed to the roof again, focused his hearing out and looked through the streets. He wasn’t able to pick up anything suspicious and figured them to be gone already.
Hadn’t he been so tired he would have probably looked into it more himself or taken some samples but because his limbs were already too heavy and his head light he just stopped the nearest police car he could find and told them where to find the building and to be careful with the smoke. He may be able to breathe it in and be fine but that doesn’t mean normal humans are.
They were surprisingly cooperative, thanking him even for making their jobs a little easier before taking off in the direction of the address Peter gave them.
When he finally fell into his ‘bed’, his eyes closed he sank right to sleep.
Notes:
маленький паук-kleine Spinne
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Notes:
*trigger warning*
mentioned sexual assualt, short description of sexual assualt, underage drinkingHallo, Hallo,
I’m back. Sorry, it’s been a while. I could put the blame on me having a part time job in a school supply job and having worked a lot these last weeks.
But in reality my months, years long really, hyperfocus on these superheros dropped and I entered a Harry Potter/Marauders era. I actually never read the Harry Potter books and only watched the movies a lot of times with my family and I’m catching up on them right now. With entering the fandom my brain directly started to draft not one, not two but three whole different fanfics. And of course I started to write that stuff as well.
But behold, this isn’t a message to tell you that I will abandon this fic. No, no way. I have written so much for this already and still have so much I want to write. It just means that it might take me a little longer to update sometimes. I will try to do it regularly but honestly, nothing in my life fits a schedule, so this probably won’t either.
Btw. I have no idea about tech or material or whatever so please ignore inaccuracies.
(Thanks roomie for beta-ing <3 )
Love y’all, kisses xoxo
Have fun reading!
Chapter Text
Stupid criminals with stupid knifes. Now he had to take time out of his packed day to get his suit to Melvin for him to fix the stupid holes and busted seames.
Why couldn’t they fight the good old way with their fists or even bold weapons like a baseball bat. No, it had to be something sharp.
Well, at least he could check up on Melvin. It’s been a while and sometimes Matt felt guilty for only seeking him out whenever he needed something. He should really work on building more of a relationship between them. Melvin was a good guy, Matt shouldn’t just exploit him like he had been in the past.
That’s why he used his lunch break to visit, to drop off the suit and bring food for them both to eat together. He just has too many meetings and files to work through to do it in the afternoon or evening.
As he closed in on Melvin’s shop he noticed that he wasn't alone. Someone else was with him, chattering unbothered. Should he wait or make himself known to Melvin somehow without making the other person aware of himself? He has the suit in a bag, so he could just pretend to meet a friend and drop something off, right?
Matt pondered over his options as he entered the street to the workshop. His steps slow down as he focused on the conversation inside.
“-lined with synthetic microfiber.” Melvin says.
“Oh, you do that to guarantee the flexibility right? Aren’t you worried about the heat conduction though? Do you use the kevlar-polymer mixture we have been working on as the top material? It’s fire resistant and would help to avoid burn injuries without detracting from the bendability,” replies the other person.
“Mhh- you’re right. We should test-”
Matt knew the voice. He also recognized the heartbeat which was constantly too fast for anyone to be healthy.
Why was Spider-Man here and how did he know Melvin? Sure, Matt had talked about Webs some time with Melvin, but he didn’t think they’d meet or know each other. Spidey hadn’t mentioned anything either.
Well, at least he didn’t have to think about how to enter the shop anymore.
The technical chat went on until he stood in the doorway, then Spider-Man stopped mid-sentence and turned around to greet him, a little surprised sounding, “Oh hey, DD!”
“Hello,” he said back and entered the room, setting his bag on an empty countertop close to them both.
Melvin was by his side a moment later, took the bag and grunted to welcome him.
“You two know each other,” he asked, because Matt had to.
Webs tilt his head a little in confusion and Melvin didn’t react in favor of inspecting the holes in his suit. As he didn’t get an answer he followed with, “I never introduced you two,” in hopes to clear himself up.
“Just turned up one day,” Melvin said in his usual rough voice. “Said he was your friend and wanted to meet me.”
“Yeah, you always talked about Melvin and I really wanted to see his shop. It’s really cool. I thought you knew because of smells or whatever. I never felt the need to mention it,” Spider-Man added excitedly. He looked at the clock on the wall and jumped up from his seat, “Oh wow, I need to go. Didn’t even notice how long we’ve been talking. I kinda need to get to my job so I’m gonna zoom. Bye, Melvin. Bye, DD.”
And with that he rushed out and was gone just seconds later. Matt heard the distinctive twips outside which faded into the city sounds.
Ok, that happened.
“I haven’t told him where your shop is or anything other than your first name. I’m not sure how he found you and I’m sorry if you didn’t want that. I can assure you that he won’t be any threat to you or Betsy.”
He needed to say it. Matt had promised to protect them and didn’t even notice Spider-Man supposedly seek him out and regularly meet him.
Maybe he should come by more often. He’d kill two birds with one stone. Build that friendship and have a closer eye on Melvin and Betsy.
Melvin didn’t seem to bother though and responded nonchalantly, “It’s fine. I know he is your friend and he said he’ll help you protect Betsy and me. Spider-Man is very smart. No one listens to me and understands my work like he does.”
Matt set his other bag with food on an empty table and began to take out the containers with Thai food. “Yeah, he developed bandages for me and some other friends in case we get more severe injuries. They stop the blood flow almost completely.”
“He protects you like we do each other,” Melvin added.
A smile tugged at his lips and a warm feeling spread in his chest. Instead of replying he asks, “Do you like Thai?”
As they ate Melvin told him about upgrades he was planning and how Spider-Man had been helping him, talking about tech and materials and that he wanted to test a few of his suggestions before he’d apply them to Matt’s suit.
Matt figured that the material they had been chatting about earlier is also for his suit. Not even two weeks ago Spider-Man got burned head to toe and now he already found a way to protect his friend from the same injuries. Injuries Matt can’t just bounce back from. It’s nice to know that his ‘partner in crime’ has his back. That he has it without Matt's knowledge even. Spider-Man had protected him before already, jumped in when his danger sense alerted him even before Matt could pick up on an attack. He had taken injuries for Matt knowing he would heal much faster than Matt ever could.
He always felt terrible about it and berated the young man to stop it, but he just stayed his chippy self and continued in protecting him. Matt made sure afterwards to tend to the injuries himself (or let Claire look over them) whenever he pulled a stunt like that, as well as providing him some food. (Because, let's be honest, that man needs every calorie he can get his hands on.)
Melvin forced him out of the little bubble he had found himself in, thinking about Spider-Man, said, “You need to be a good friend to him.”
“I try to be.”
The man by his side humed but seemed conflicted. After a moment where he mulled the thoughts over in his head Melvin managed, “He reminds me of you - when we met. It’s not a good thing. He is too young.”
Matt's eyebrows furrowed as he turned to Melvin and he asked, “Why is that?”
“He is always hurt, always tired. He is too thin for the work he does and too cold because of it. Never thinks about himself and deflects when I do and ask. You stayed quiet, dark. You’re better now and changed. He is too happy. It’s the other extreme, but the same.
“When I say certain things, ask him if something ‘s wrong, he gets quieter and he sounds - strange. First I thought it was my fault, but Betsy told me people do it when they aren’t well and don’t want other people to know. I don’t think he is well.”
“I haven’t noticed.”
Another hum, “Of course you wouldn’t. If he were like you then, you would. Just- try and help him. We need to take care of each other.”
“You’re right. I’ll try to.”
Melvin gave him a long measured look and nodded once before digging back into his thai.
Matt left after, many questions swirling through his head. He tried to search his memories for answers but it turned out to be hard to grasp anything specific.
Spider-Man is and always had been one of the people with the most positive outlook on life you can possibly have. Sure he gets snarky and sarcastic and even dangerously angry but never to a point where anyone has to fear he would lose control over himself. He so selflessly believes in second chances, that people can change and always prefers to try and talk things out first and punch second. Not that he didn’t think people didn’t deserve punishment but he also had strong feelings and opinions in regards to the system in place for it and how it is flawed.
It doesn’t happen often that he meets the man in a sour mood. And even when, that would mostly be his own or their friends’ fault.
He barely gets annoyed and happily helps anyone who asks for it, stays with them if they want to talk. Never complains about a long walk escorting someone home, getting yet another kitten out of a tree or backflipping for random people. Matt never would bother with mundane things like posing for photos.
Spider-Man is a lot of things but never sad or troubled.
At least about himself.
Matt wondered if it’s his own fault for not noticing. If he just hadn’t asked the right questions or if he put him in a box in his head and didn’t look further after some point in their friendship.
He hopes he didn’t. But even so, he will keep a closer look on him from now on. Melvin has a look for such things. Notices and quietly observes which others, like him, would overlook from day to day. It may be more difficult for him to interpret his observations but with Betsy’s help he is barely wrong in the outcome.
The other vigilante is guarded around his identity which Matt understands and respects. He hopes that he’ll trust them enough one day to reveal himself and let them into his civilian life, too, but until then he is happy to have him as a friend/partner/mentee (Wade always says this) in his life. And when that day comes Matt will be there and happily help him in his personal struggles he can’t know or understand right now. The struggles which may led to Melvin believing him to be unwell.
It follows Matt back to the office, until his next meeting and later down the day. Maybe he’ll ask DP or Clint if they had observed anything.
It was 9:30 p.m. on a Friday night in Queens. The streets were filled with partying people enjoying the end of the work week in all possible states of being, most drunk or high which was perfect for many criminals, easy targets for petty crimes all over town. The air was filled with too loud music, blaring from every bar or club and the sweet scent of alcohol.
A stark contrast to Daredevil and the Punisher who were currently webbed to a rooftop with Spider-Man laying on the ground next to them, munching on a sandwich while babbling about his day.
Peter had joined Frank to do recon on a human trafficking ring in Brooklyn after he noticed his presence in the area. He also wanted to kill some time before joining the other vigilantes for one of their rare training/drinking sessions together which was conveniently close to Frank’s location.
How Matt caught wind of them was a mystery to them both. The red clad vigilante had probably picked up on them on his way over to one of Danny’s buildings designated for today's meeting.
Peter had noticed the other vigilante as he quickly jumped the rooftops a few blocks down and informed Frank who then began to grumpily swear under his breath.
Not even five minutes after Matt arrived they started their shouting match and the slowly escalating physical fight that followed most of their encounters. Peter decided today wasn’t the day to just let it happen like Jessica had advised him to on different occasions.
First, he webbed Daredevil’s feet to the roof which led to him slumping forward at the sudden loss of momentum following his hand being webbed, too. Second, he shot a web at Frank's feet successfully trapping one foot.
Both could have probably avoided it if they hadn’t been so involved in their fight with each other.
“I don’t wanna fight tonight. Why can’t you just get along for once,” he whined. “God, you’re worse than kindergarteners,” Peter bursts out, strolling over to the Punisher, stopping only shortly out of his reach.
“Oh you think that’s funny? Free me,” he demands.
“Hmm- no.”
Frank’s face morphed into the aggressive type of annoyance he usually only had with the Devil as he heard the cocky tone of voice under Peter’s mask. And oh, if he wasn’t proud of himself for making the older man mad like that.
The gun raised to his face momentarily to which Peter suppressed a laugh (not like DD who openly snorted a few feet behind them).
All parties knew that Frank wasn't gonna shoot him but Peter, just to be sure, quickly grabbed the barrel of the gun with his left hand, right hand shooting up punching the wrist which held it. The weapon was now in his hands and in another swift motion the magazine fell to the floor as well as the round.
And as Peter expected, taking a quick glance to confirm his suspicion, the safety was on the whole time.
“Great to see that your training actually catches on but now is not the fucking time. Free. Me.” Frank’s voice turned dangerously low and Peter knew that he tried to intimidate him which was pretty ambitious for someone who just got trapped and disarmed.
With cheeky amusement clear in his voice the teen retorted, “Ask nicely, like use a ‘please’ for once and call me the ‘bestest of the best vigilantes in New York’, then I'll maybe think about it.”
“As funny as that whole thing was, dissolve the webs, Spidey,” Matt demanded now, too.
“Only if you’ll be nice to each other.” This time it was Frank who began to laugh.
“Tell Red to stop bothering me and I’ll-”
With that another shouting match started, Peter standing in between them. The moment he took a sidestep a billy club flew in Frank’s direction and if it weren’t for his fast reflexes, catching it out of the air, it wouldn’t have smashed right into the ex-marines face.
He stood there for a moment, watching the scene unfold, how they thrashed against their restrictions and tried to free themselves. It looked absolutely hilarious and in those moments he wished he had a phone to be able to send a video of them to Clint and Wade. Or all the other vigilantes in town.
Before he knew it the shouting was directed at him and I swear to God, if you don’t cut me loose!
And because Peter really didn’t want to be on either of their bad sides he searched all his little pockets for the vial of web dissolvent.
“Well, shit,” he breathes out after a moment.
Matt looked up at him. Suspicion in his voice as he asks, “What do you mean ‘shit’?”
“I may or may not have forgotten my dissolvence.” He takes a step back as if it would help with the upcoming wrath he would have to endure.
“Then go get it,” Frank growls.
“I can't, DD is here and I’m pretty sure he could hear where I go and I don’t really want anyone to know where I live,” he replies sheepishly.
“What and we’re supposed to just stay here until it dissolves? That shit takes hours. I don’t care if Red’s here, go get it!”
“Only one and a half to two hours and you don’t have to worry, I’ll keep you company!”
That was an hour ago and after a little sandwich run and eating later they were just chilling. From time to time Frank and or Matt would grumble their discomfort and annoyance under their breath and Peter ignored it while chatting on.
Matt sat leaning on the webbed up hand. Frank sat a few feet away dis- and reassembling his gun to ease his mind and forget about the frustrating situation.
Peter chatted on and on about the lady who always gave him churrows when he helped her with her groceries and his different encounters with dogs of all kinds.
“-and you have no, and I mean NO idea how fluffy he was and such a good boy, probably the best!”
“You told me the exact same thing about a Golden Retriever last week,” Matt deadpanned.
“You weren’t there. The fluff was emacu-” Peter stiffens and before Matt or Frank could even try to react he stands, runs and leaps off the building.
“Hey! What's going on,” Frank demanded. He stood again, handgun ready in his right hand the second he noticed Spider-Man’s shift in demeanor. “Come back,” he shouted after the vigilante.
Matt awkwardly crouched on the floor as tense as Frank was standing. Before he could yell something, too, his hearing picked up on what must have spiked the wall crawlers spider-senses. In an alley two blocks down a woman was cornered by a man around Frank’s size and build. He must have followed her out the bar down the street, the smell of sweat and beer lingered on him as well as one of those too sweet cocktails on her.
The man grabbed her by the back of her head, pressed one hand on her mouth and rapidly dragged her down further into the alley against a wall behind a dumpster, effectively cutting them off from view. One hand sat tightly over her mouth as he began to grab under her dress with his other hand. The woman's muffled screams and attempts to free herself were hopelessly shut down by the attacker.
Matt knuckles turned white with how hard he clenched them and pulled against the webbing in an attempt to free himself and help too. Frank caught onto that immediately watching Matt and scanning his surroundings for any possible threats incoming. His gun was raised slightly as he asked, “What do you hear? What’s going on?”
“A woman is getting assaulted two blocks down.”
“Spider-Man?”
“He’s getting there now. He’s-” Matt didn’t finish as he fell still for a second before he began to yank against his constrictions again, this time much more desperately.
“What is going on,” Franks demanded, now even more on edge.
“Spider-Man is beating him up like- He is- he will kill him if he doesn’t stop,” Matt ignored how the tension in Frank began to seep away. How his shoulders relaxed only a little at knowing that none of them was in any immediate danger. “We need to stop him. His heart and breath- he is panicking and probably doesn’t know what he is doing. Spider-Man isn’t a killer, Frank.” That put the edge right back into him.
“Spider-Man- Stop! You will kill him,” Matt raised his voice slightly, hoping his friend might hear him even over the distance.
Matt could hear the woman's frantic cries as she crouched on the floor only a few feet away from this probably very bloody scene. He could also hear the guy’s cries and Spidey’s punches shattering yet another bone. Another punch and the man fell slack. That he was unconscious didn’t stop Spider-Man in his attack. It was unbearable for Matt knowing that it didn’t register in the young vigilante what he was doing, that he was killing the guy. The younger man’s heart beat threateningly fast and his breathing was nothing more than a few racked huffs.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
It took Matt a second to register Spider-Man staggering back, mumbling something before leaping up into the air and swinging away.
“He stopped. - He is- he is swinging away now.”
“How long ‘til these webs dissolve again?”
Peter didn’t know what happened. One moment he was on a roof talking to Matt with Frank sitting close by and the next minute he was in an alley with bloody hands and a guy lying on the floor almost beaten to death.
A side glance, he noticed the weeping woman on the floor. Her hair was a mess, mascara running down her cheeks as she cried. She shook violently as her eyes darted between him and the attacker. From a phone firmly grasped in her hand was a 911 operator trying to gain her attention. Unsuccessfully, judging by her frightened eyes fixed now on the costumed man in front of her.
“I’m so s- sorry-” Peter stammered as he quickly scanned her appearance. There was no blood so she seemed to be at least physically fine. Her breathing was errantic and her eyes wide, terrified by whatever the now bloodsoaked guy had been trying to do and equally as much as what had happened to him afterwards.
What Peter did to him.
He stumbled back to the entrances of the alleyway. His voice broke pathetically as he croaked another, “I’m sorry.”
Then there was wind in his face. I’m swinging?
His head was a storm full of thoughts. Roaring and with every attempt to grasp one he was hit by a different wave of emotions, confusion, guilt, anger and sadness. It was drowning him, muffling any coherent thought which tried to make an appearance.
He didn’t notice landing on a rooftop or the tears damping the mask he still wore. He didn’t notice sitting down against the brick wall which surrounded the rooftop. What happened?
He looked so much like...No, he is in prison. Is he?
It had been a long time since he thought about him, the nights in summer, the nightmares. The time after, the pitying looks he received all through his life and the not so secret tears his aunt and uncle had shed after finding out.
This time it hadn’t been his uncle who punched the guy. He vividly remembered the bruised, bloodied knuckles Ben had come home with three hours after he found out. Not like his though. His gloves were drenched in blood, not even his own like how it has been with uncle Ben. No, it was that guy's blood.
Did I kill him? The amount would definitely suggest so.
His eyes didn’t leave his hands, bloodsoaked like the night the robber murdered May and Ben.
Murderer , the word repeating itself over and over again in his head.
Murderer
Those 45 minutes on the roof were hell to wait. Matt could hear Spider-Man snapping back to reality, the hectic short breaths that followed as well as him swinging away a few blocks till he landed, or more fell on a rooftop. He hadn’t moved since he sat against the brick railing.
Matt and Frank were there fast after they could free themselves from the melting spiderwebs.
The state they found Spider-Man in was unsettling to say the least. Slumped against the wall he numbly stared at his blood drenched, slightly trembling hands, clearly in shock. They stopped halfway across the roof, leaving enough space for him to not feel cornered and get spooked.
“Did I- is he dead?”
That startled them slightly even though they didn’t let it show. Matt heard the jump from Frank’s heart and felt himself freeze in his spot. Both didn’t expect the younger man infront of them to notice his companions from earlier and less to speak first and address whatever mess just happened.
“The ambulance came in time. He is alive.” It was the only thing Matt could say for sure right now. This wasn’t anything he knew how to deal with. The heart to hearts were never his field of expertise and he doubted that it was Frank’s. The relieved breath from the man in front of them eased him a bit for the following conversation.
“I don’t-” A shaky breath, then sob wrecked through the small body in front of them. As soon as the dam broke he folded in on himself and was openly crying, “I can’t remember what- what happend.” His voice choked up as he spoke. “I can’t- I can’t remember.”
“You up and left. Shortly after Red heard a man trying to rape a woman. You interfered,” Frank stated simply, voice even.
“Your senses probably picked up that something was about to happen”, Matt continued uncertain, “You stopped him.” Well, that was one way to put it.
“What happened? Not that I don’t support you, but that’s not like you.” Matt shook his head and glared at his direction, Not the time, Frank .
Spider-Man’s gloved hands were shaking even worse now. “I was just- I knew what would happen and- when I saw him-“
“You got angry,” Matt finished carefully.
Spidey was almost hyperventilating while trying to explain, “I don’t know. I- I didn’t want her to go through that, too. I stopped rapists before but tonight- tonight- he looked so much like- I just got angry and- and-” Scared - he didn’t need to say it for them to hear.
All of the sudden, they froze.
All of them. Just as it sunk in what Spider-Man had said.
Frank asked first, his voice on edge and body more tense than it was just a second ago, “Too?”
“What?”
This time Matt questioned, “You said ‘too’. Webs -”, his voice softened, “We don’t need to talk about it, but we listen if you want to speak to us, you know that?”
He got closer to Spidey with careful and slow steps. Frank was less hesitant in his movement as if he knew what to do and expect. He crouched down to him in a heartbeat as his hand hovered shortly above Spider-Man’s shoulder in an uncertain pause.
Matt was slightly relieved that Frank took the initiative. Under the whole gruff facade he was/had been a father who knew how to deal with this. Maybe not this particular situation but how to calm a scared, hurt person.
As soon as his hand made contact the young man lost it again and collapsed in a tearful mess on Frank's shoulder. The bigger man engulfed Webs in his arms and began to rub soothing circles on the small back.
His tears, which had already soaked through the mask, were joined by a wave of new one’s.
“I didn’t mean to- to lash out like that- I- I-”
“Shhh- Just try to calm down a bit, breathe, so we can go someplace more quiet and safe to talk.” Matt could swear he never heard Frank’s voice go so comforting and reassuring.
“In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4. Count your breaths, that’ll help. In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4,” he counted slowly out loud as he sat down beside them. “In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4.”
It took about 15 min of patting and soft, or in Frank’s case gruff, spoken nothings before Spider-Man calmed down enough to move. His cries formed into quiet huffs and hiccups, the trembling in his hands gone down immensely, too, even though his vision still tunneled onto the blood on his hands every now and then before Frank or Matt could distract him from it.
“Frank, can we use your car?” They could get to Danny’s place before the others show up, someplace more private than this rooftop. “‘You still up for training, Webs?”
He sensed the nod which Spider-Man followed with, “At least y’all can’t see my ugly crying face.”
Frank huffed and helped the young vigilante up with a hand. “Let’s go”
Rand’s warehouse turned training space consisted of a big open room, one half floored with soft matting and the other evenly bare but with benches against the wall. The door on the other side to the entrance led to a sparsely furnished living space and a back entrance or exit depending how you want to look at it. The rooms upstairs were abandoned offices. Rand used it regularly for training if he needed more open space than the Dojo provided, but they were told they could use it as a safe house as well if their normal living arrangements were ever compromised. Though most of them barely used the offer as Rand liked to turn up unannounced.
He had gotten that little explanation from Red before they entered the building. Unprompted, for whatever reason. Probably because lawyers liked to hear themselves talk.
Frank had never been there before as he never joined their little vigilante community building stuff. (Well not willingly and if he needed to, he rather kept Team Red as company. Not that he would tell them. No way he’d be able to shake them after.) He knew that Red had been bullied into the whole thing by Webs and Wilson as well as his nurse friend. He had a whole sissy fit about it one evening, shortly after he had to attend their first ‘training session’ in the big group.
Brought beer and all. Didn’t even try to fight him that night. Just turned up to complain.
Spider-man, after disappearing and coming back with clean hands (bloody gloves gone), kind of just stumbled over to the matted area, fell down into it, rolled around for a bit and stayed in what Frank guessed was his chosen, most comfortable position. Red on the other hand slowly walked through the room, head slightly tilted before he announced, “We’re the first. No one else is around. Beer?”
He had learned to trust his freaky ears a long time ago so he relaxed and sank down onto one of the benches in one corner where he could keep both doors in his line of sight. He had left his bag and other stuff in the car on their way there and only had his regular two handguns: one in his waistband and one at his ankle.
Frank grunted slightly to answer Murdock who left through to the living area.
When he walked back in he threw a bottle at Spider-Man who for once didn’t react in time. The bottle smacked right into his head and was followed by a groan as well as some mumbles which were probably insults judging Red’s stupid grin.
Spidey sat up, took the bottle and stared at it for a second. “You assault me with a drink and then it isn’t even alcoholic?”
“You’ve had a panic attack. You need water and electrolytes.” Red, after giving Frank his own beer, sat down on the bench, leaving a few feet space between them.
Spider-Man got up, walked over and instead of sitting somewhere where they would all have enough personal space, he squeezed himself in between them. Further, he held up the Gatorade in front of him as if it offended him personally and complained, “It isn’t even the blue one.”
“How would I know?”
“Oh, you know. I know you know somehow.”
“I’m blind.”
“And I don’t care.”
Red let Spidey take his can of beer out of his hand and have a sip before snatching it back. At least then Spider-Man drank some of his own drink.
“Wanna talk about it,” Frank asked shortly.
That was some heavy shit that he had accidentally dropped there.
Webs let his head thud back against the wall as if remembering what happened not even an hour ago. “No, thank you.”
Frank hummed slightly. “The person is dead or in prison,” he asks anyway because he has to. That’s the only thing he needs to know, even if Red might want more details. The question is also for exactly that reason, to cut Red off from asking, saying or doing anything stupid.
“Prison.” After a short pause he follows with, “I think. Happened a long time ago. Whatever. Let’s talk about something less personal or depressing and never bring this up again. Yeah? Great!” The younger man’s tone turned fakely happy and cheery. Not that either he or Red couldn’t hear through it but the message was clear, they wouldn’t continue with that topic.
“The invitation still stands. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m there. I think Frank is as well.”
He hummed in agreement and took another swig of his beer.
“Will you stay for training?” Webs turned to ask him instead of reacting to Red, his legs now up on the seat as well, sitting criss-cross applesauce and successfully bumping into them both.
He must have made a face at that because he continued eagerly, with real excitement this time, “Jess is probably gonna bring a bunch of alcohol and I know for a fact that Claire will come for the drinks as well. Colleen also has some of the better stuff stashed upstairs.”
“Fine. You’ll deal with Cage though. I know he doesn’t want me here.”
“Oh, you’re fine.” He dramatically let himself fall into Red with a big yawn. He said only half intelligible, still around the yawn, “When do the others come?”
“Half an hour? I don’t know.”
The young guy groaned and fell down more into the other vigilante, laying on him and ‘spreading out’ in the small space. He grumbled for a bit about being exhausted already and that it doesn’t even make sense with how little he did that day. Not like he had a whole breakdown or anything.
Out of his peripheral vision he saw Murdock shake his head at him but didn’t comment either. They both knew the guy well enough by now to know that he’ll probably toss and turn for about another minute before falling dead asleep in the most horrible, back-pain inducing position possible.
Spider-Man ended up with his head in Red’s lap, arm slung over his masked eyes, body twisted to the wall with one leg bunched under the other which was laying in Frank’s lap. His other hand cradled the gatorade bottle to his chest. To top it all off he filled the quiet space with soft snores not even five minutes after beginning a rant about something Frank had tuned out.
His own eyes closed and he laid his head back against the wall listening halfheartedly to Red explaining sentences of some Albanians they had busted a month prior or so.
Then silence laid over them. Frank knew what happened, what they had learned about their young friend (Yes - friend. How did that happen?) sat as heavy with Red as it did with him. Murdock had been protective of him ever since he had met him. The change had been noticeable not only in his rants but in his approach on operations as well. They got safer, more structured and backup plans were made. Red wasn’t going to risk someone else’s life, especially Spider-Man’s young one like that.
He himself had felt a weight drop in his stomach as those words left Spider-Man. And that it had happened a while ago, like he said? He had a feeling what that could mean, agewise that is.
Just thinking about it felt like acid in his veins.
“Wade will talk to him,” a low voice said from his side.
He turned to Red as he followed up, “About his weight.”
“Good,” Frank answered shortly. This was good. Something they could fix.
When did he start to worry about Spider-Man like that?
Maybe because this almost feels like a team, a unit. Maybe it doesn’t matter when it started or how but he knew that they had to take care of each other. Like he would look after Red’s injuries when they went out together as he did for his in return. Even if they both might have been the cause for some of those wounds.
Maybe because these were the only other people out there who really understood what this whole crime-fighting/punishing thing was like. They knew what it meant and could relate to the stuff they had to do and deal with. Maybe because they clearly didn’t have any other people. Or the ones that were part of it but they didn’t want to involve in all the killing and hurting. Karen, Curtis, Red’s lawyer buddy- Froggy?
And whoever Spider-Man might have.
The man in question turned slightly, kicking his leg into Frank’s stomach.
Frank forced air into his lungs and out against the pain. Counted to ten in his head as well.
“How does he have no idea of personal space,” he asks, not expecting an answer. Especially with the way Red snickered from the side.
“He was more reserved when I met him. The respect thing was big in the beginning. I think Wade ruined him.”
The silence stretched out after that and Frank’s eyes dropped again. For however long, he doesn’t know.
As soon as he heard the click of a door his eyes snapped open again, hand on the gun in his waistband.
“Relax Murder-Man.”
Jones. Great.
“Well, isn’t this just adorable? Really, that’s just too cute. The two biggest macho-‘I have to maim and kill’-men letting Spider-Man sleep on top of them.” She produced her phone too fast for either of them to stop her and took a photo.
“Jessica-”
“Devil-boy,” she countered in a bored tone
“Jessica. Delete that photo.”
“Or what? Doesn’t look like you’re going to move anytime soon and if you smash another one of my electronics, I will do the same to you.”
She let the threat stand in the room as she disappeared through the door. Not even a minute later she returned with two cushioned chairs and a bottle of something strong balanced on one of them and let herself down half across the room.
Red announced Cage and Claire’s arrival. He also decided to wake Spidey to be able to get up and greet them. Or mostly Claire who decided to check his physical state, followed the hug with practiced hand movements over his ribs and chest. Good riddance. At least one person with common sense.
He decided to just sit out and ignore Cage’s stare and protective stand in front of Claire for now as Web’s argued for him to be there. Not like Frank really cared. If they wanted him to leave he would gladly do so. Right now he was only there because Webs had asked and he got the chance to catch up with Claire without having to safe a stupid Devil from life threatening injuries in the process.
Loud voices announced Rand and Wilson even before they entered.
Wilson, who, for whatever reason, was wearing a blue training suit over his normal one, made a beeline for Webs, like always.
“Mr. Pool,” Webs greeted him with a stretched out hand and a dead serious tone.
The man copied his younger friend spot on. “Mr. Man.”
“Oh please, call me Spider. Mr. Man was my father.”
“Dead, I insist.”
Ok, that stupid thing just happened.
They both settled on the floor giggling like the idiots they were. “I bought burritos. My little cutie-bug will get this bag,” Wilson announced loudly, wiggled the bag in the air for everyone to see before dropping it in front of Webs and followed as cheerfully as before, “You will lose your limp if you decide to take something from him. I don’t care about the rest of the food. Dig in.”
Rand and Cage gravitated over to Jones and roped her into some conversation she didn’t look like she wanted to be part of.
The two vigilantes on the floor were soon joined by their third team-member. Murdock had tried, pretty much as soon as Wade settled down, to end his conversation with Claire. For how much the guy always whines and complains about his team, his oh so precious personal space was being ignored with them or his whole brooding-problem, he gravitated strongly towards Webs and Wilson. Frank was sure the man wasn't even fully aware of it.
“How are you doing,” Claire asked as she settled down on the bench beside him, casting a knowing glance at Matt and shaking her head to herself with a smirk tugging in the corner of her lips. “The boys bothering you?”
“You know it. Got roped into this by Webs.”
She hummed in response. “So you’re here for the booze?” She whispered conspiringly, “Me, too, you know? And it is great entertainment. Like a big playdate for the super-people.”
They got interrupted by Wade shrieking and forcibly pulling Spider-Man to his chest, cradling and rocking him back and forth. “Oh Baby-Boy, if you need to cry your heart out, I’m your guy. It is no shame. Everyone has a breakdown every now and then. I normally choose to blow my brain out whenever I have them but you are not allowed to do that.”
“Breakdown?” He heard Claire repeat from his side.
“Ignore him. It’s dealt with,” Frank answered shortly. “That how you lot train,” he asked loudly into the room as Spider-Man probably didn’t want to open up that topic again.
“We usually try and beat each other up, give some pointers on technique. Why? You wanna go a round, Frank?” Murdock got up to his feet with a feral kind of smile on his lips. With a scoff, Frank put aside his beer. Not wanting to waste what little is left of it in case Murdock decided to charge at him. “Finish what we started?”
Before he could take a step in his direction, Webs, who by now freed himself from Wilson’s arms and laid on the ground again, reached out and grabbed onto the older man by the ankle. “Be nice or I’ll web you again."
Murdock tried to shake his hand off - without success. Even further, Wilson got up to his feet and hung himself around the man’s neck from behind, leaning his whole body weight against him and chatted about something directly into his ear. It was a great sight. Especially with the steadily increasing frustration building up in Red.
“Let go of me,” he exclaimed in what he tried to make sound menacing or threatening. Frank couldn’t help but snort. The head snapped to him and with it all the aggression in him.
But just as he more desperately tried to free himself, probably ready to take violent measures against his friends to do so, Spider-Man pulled the leg out from under him with a simple but effective tug. With the whole of Wilson's weight on him he lost his balance easily and fell to the ground in a heap. The other man followed on top of him.
Laughter erupted around the room, loudest of all Jones who looked like she enjoyed Murdock’s bodily harm as much as Frank did.
“Do y’all wanna see a technique I learned from the Avengers when I stayed with them,” Webs asked as he got up to his feet and jumped up and over to Jones and co. out of Murdock’s immediate radius.
“You mean when you almost bleed out and they saved your life?”
“Tomato, tomato. Anyway - Sergeant Barnes and Clint told me about this thing Thor did sometimes. It’s called ‘Get Help’ and he perfected it with his brother. It’s nothing like our usual fighting stuff and really effective as a distraction.” Webs rocketed on his feet excitedly, not even waiting for a response before he kept on rambling, “It’s so cool. I’m gonna show you how it’s done. Jessica, can you film it? Then we can watch it afterwards.”
He didn’t wait for the answer before practically skipping over to the other two red-clad vigilante’s. “You will help me show how it’s done. Ok? Great! Matty, you are the bad guy and-”
“Why am I the bad guy? Wade is the obvious choice for that,” he argued like a toddler. And yes, Claire was right. This looked exactly like a playdate.
Webs groaned, “I don’t care. Wade can be the bad guy. Just stand here, Wade.” Spider-man pushed him into position who straightened with an Oki-doki. Murdock got dragged over to the other side of the room where Webs continued to explain seriously. “If you need to enter a room and you need a distraction before attacking you can use ‘Get Help’. Wade is a bad guy or more likely a group of bad guy’s. Imagine a door here.” He gestured violently around. “It’s more for us enhanced, strong people. You can do it with a teammate or a person you beat unconscious beforehand. Jess, ‘you filming? Imma show you how it’s done.”
After the confirmation from Jones, Spider-Man pulled one of Murdocks arms over and around his shoulders with one arm around his back, like that carrying most of his body-weight.
This will either go two ways: Spider-man will demonstrate some weird but effective actual technique or he aimed for a laugh. Right now, Frank guessed towards the second. Either way, similar to the other vigilante’s in the room he was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes trained on whatever was going to happen next.
“Action,” Spider-Man said loudly, before dragging Murdock forward and shouting frantically, “Get help! Help! My friend is dying!”
Suddenly, Murdock was flying through the room. He smacked right into Deadpool, both falling to the ground, groaning in pain.
Spider-Man just threw him.
He threw Red.
And now he was wheezing on the ground, sounding like he was going to piss himself from laughter.
Laughter bubbled out of Frank as he watched Spider-Man jump up and climb to the ceiling, laughing his ass off at Murdock trying to jump after him, pure aggression in his face. Billy clubs were flying through the air and profanities were shouted.
One look at Claire and they both lost it all again.
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Notes:
Dobry den,
I have no excues. Sorry about not posting.
I actually had lot's of troubles with this chapter because I didn't know how to write certain parts but -yeah- I did it. It's there.
Actually, I know you probably don't care, but another reason for me not posting was that I learned how to knit and I do that a lot know. I'm already great at knitting socks!
I try and make a scedule kind of posting next year.The link to the song I'll mention and quote: https://youtu.be/YG1Mfjmp4sc
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays btw!
Thanks for reading and leaving comments (I read and love them even if I don't always answer <3)
Thanks roomie for being my great beta!
Have fun reading. See you soon (hopefully)
Chapter Text
“Hey Clint, you’re trending,” was the first thing he heard after getting whacked awake by Natasha. He just wanted a nice little nap in the common room, but no, not even that he could have.
“I’m what,” the archer asked, voice rough and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“You’re trending, along with your little vigilante squad.”
Their other teammates trickled into the room one after another looking expectantly at Nat who must have ordered them here and waited patiently. Tony came in last with a wide grin. “Are we having a watch party?”
Natasha smirked back at the man and oh no, that meant nothing good. Whenever these two got up to something it was absolutely horrible for everyone else and hilarious for them. “Have you seen it?”
“Of course. I have an alert for whenever embarrassing videos of any of you are posted somewhere,” he answered smugly, throwing himself into the couch beside Natasha. “FRIDAY girl, you know what to do.”
“So this isn’t anything important,” Bucky asked, already standing up to leave again but Nat pinned him with a glance that made him sink back into the couch cushion without another word.
The TV started and everyone’s attention shifted to the video playing.
A big warehouse was shown with a lot of people, all armed. Some were audible talking about a shipment of some kind before an explosion rang from one end of the hall, ripping a hole in the wall and a red figure with two guns in their hands walked through it.
“Oh no,” Clint whispered as he realized what he was looking at.
“Oh yes,” both Nat and Tony voiced excitedly.
The video continued to show a very annoyed looking Clint jogging into the room through the big hole complaining loud enough for the security system to pick up the tone, “One time, can’t we plan something and stick to the plan just one fucking time.” In the video he rolled over and dodged the bullets which now began to rain down on them. In the meantime Spider-Man could be seen climbing through a high window near a stairwell.
Deadpool, who walked in first and had since then ducked behind a car, shouted over to where Clint was perched and shot down goons from, “How am I supposed to stick to a plan when one whole person included in said plan didn’t show up. Huh? Explain that to me, Hawkass! And whatever, the explosion worked just fine, look.”
He violently gestured with his guns at the ceiling where their smaller vigilante partner jumped down straight at the leader, smashing him to the ground before he slid the now unconscious man over the the side of the wall out of the line of fire that now rained down on him, too. The small red figure jumped straight into the fight, disarming and -engaging people while Clint took others down nonlethally from a small distance. Deadpool joined the fight and it didn’t take long before everyone was down.
The bigger red clothed man was now standing over one of the criminals on the ground, pointed the gun straight at his head but just before he could fire Spider-Man snapped the gun out of his hand with a disappointed sigh. “We talked about this. Kneecaps and shoulders only.”
The mercenary actually whined like a child who was just denied their favorite treat, foot stomping and all, “But that is no fun. Come on!”
Spider-Man leveled him with what’s (probably) supposed to be a threatening stare, picked up a guy from the ground who had regained consciousness and punched him out cold all while still staring the other man down. The only thing he said while letting the man drop to the ground again was a stern, scolding, “No.”
By the time Clint made his way over to them, checking some of the goons on the way and even putting two in a stable lateral position, Daredevil is seen jogging into the room very nonchalantly.
“Sorry, I was held up. What did I miss, ” the man asked, stepping over a person lying on the floor.
Deadpool shot the man lying at his feet in a knee.
Everyone ignored him and Clint answered easily, “We redirected the transport route of the trucks. The women will be sent straight to the hospital with a note from us. I’m not really sure how they even managed all this-” He gestured widely around the room, “They’re idiots.”
“Well there is a small army of them coming here. All armed.” The angle showed the face of Daredevil and the wide grin that emerged on the lower half of his face. “Let’s play the Nose-Game.”
This time it was Clint’s turn to complain and that very loudly, “Oh that’s fucking unfair. First you come late and then you want to play the freaking nose game. You know I’m better from a distance.”
“You gonna chicken out,” the Devil challenged.
“You wish! I’m gonna destroy you anyway, you ass.”
“Ok, they are like right outside from all sides, just so you know. I’m in, too, by the way,” Spider-Man interrupted them, jumped up to a wall and quickly scaled to the top.
“Me, too,” Deadpool said before skipping over to one of the cars, laying down on its hood seductively, which again, was ignored by everybody else.
They all scattered around the hall. The most visible and audible person now was Spider-Man as he was closest to the camera in the corner, quietly singing to himself, “Spectacular, hm- spectacular Spider-Man-”
A loud groan was heard somewhere down on the ground, the voice clearly Daredevil’s and very clearly, very annoyed, sounding like he had to ask the following question too often already, “Can you fucking stop singing your own theme song when we are about to fight a bunch of people!”
“You can’t tell me what to fucking do, Beelzebub!” His voice now a lot louder as he started to sing again just when people began to barge in through the doors, starting to shoot. “Livin’ on the edge, fighting crime, spinning webs, swinging from the highest ledge, he can leap above our heads- ahAHaha AhAHah-”
The fight was in full force and everyone was sticking to their fists or using their weapons in a close range way. Clint especially was seen using his bow to smash into people's faces with brute force. More and more people streamed into the warehouse, getting obliterated by the team of vigilantes.
Every now and then a pained grunt was heard from them but most were from the mob guys. Sometimes, the singing got interrupted by the fight but Spider-Man always continued loud and clear afterwards through all the noises. Now also joined by Deadpool. “Villains on the rise, and the city’s victimized, looking up with no surprise, arriving in the speed of time, ahaAhaaha Ahahaah-”
Spider-Man jumped from left to right, focusing on punching people in the face. One time when more and more people started to focus on the archer, he jumped over to him, using the man’s bow and momentum to swing around and feet first into the face of a big burly guy who went down like a sack of potatoes. And as it seemed, every single one of them was doing that. Yes, they hit left and right, smashed people against walls, cars and tables standing around but they all kept coming back with bloody faces.
Even Clint was now audibly singing, quietly but still heard over the little commotion as the fight now slowed and the last few people went down. “Spectacular- spectacular Spider-Man, Spectacular- spectacular Spider-Man, Spectacular- spectacular SPIDER-MAN!” They shout the last part out together, all three of them. Daredevil stood by their side, unconscious bodies laying around left and right. “Spectacular!”
“Why are you my friends again,” he groaned out through exerted breaths. Some blood was on his chin and one of his hands braced his rips.
Spider-Man jumped on his back from behind, the man just slightly bent forward from the sudden weight before he straightened again. He didn’t look startled at all by the other man or strained by the weight of the younger vigilante sitting up there on his shoulders who exclaimed loudly and excited, “I counted 12!”
“Ha- 14,” Clint shouted as excitedly. Spider-Man let himself fall over Daredevil's shoulders completely, just slumping up there with a disappointed sigh.
“I got only 4, but a lot more kneecaps, around 16,” Deadpool chimed in, seemingly happy with his result.
“How many did you get,” Spider-Man asked the man he was still on top of, now climbing to sit on his shoulders, bending forward over his head so he looked at the other man upside down in the face. The Devil began to calmly walk out of the warehouse, stepping over unconscious bodies, even bracing Spider-Man with a hand when he wobbled on top of him and almost fell because of the motion who in turn held onto the masked head. He also poked the horns while at it and a hand swatted at him as a reaction.
The others followed him as sirens now were heard in the distance. Deadpool was seen happily kicking some of them on his way out and shooting in another kneecap.
“I got 10,” Daredevil grumbled. In the last few seconds of the video Clint was seen punching the red-horned vigilante in the arm hard and shouting something excitedly but not audible anymore as they now left the warehouse, leaving many many bodies behind.
The video ended and Clint never wanted to just die on the spot more. Or for fucking aliens to come down through a portal in the sky. Anything but his teammates looking at him with so much amusement and absolute confusion at the same time. Everyone was either snickering or openly laughing.
“Really man, the Nose-Game?” Sam laughed and Bucky cut right in. “Looks fun. Let’s play it the next time we’re on a mission. I’ll easily win.” And with that they fell into their own discussion bubble, arguing who would win.
Of course Captain Strategy would criticize the whole thing. “Is that really how you operate missions?”
“I’d be happy if it’d run as smoothly all the time,” Clint mumbled more to himself than anyone really. More loudly he answered, “We had a plan but DD didn’t turn up so Pool improvised. It went well enough and it’s not like a little game stops us from taking them down. It’s more fun like this anyway. Smashing the heads of those human trafficking scum in.”
“That’s why you’re singing, too?” Tony dried his tears with the back of his hand. He and Natasha had so much fucking joy watching Clint squirm uncomfortably.
“Spidey sings it a lot. Some people wrote him the song and it kind of slaps, ok- It’s really hard not to go with it when DP and Spidey start to belt out random songs every other time they meet,” he tried to defend himself weakly but he only got more laughs in return.
“Yeah, come on. Let it out. I get it,” he sighed defeated.
Rhodey clapped him on the back when he rounded the couch to the kitchen. “I mean, is it always like this?”
Clint scoffed, “That’s nothing.” The man left with another laugh.
He let his head fall into his hands. “God, that is online?”
“Yeah, apparently someone from the 15th precinct leaked it this morning. Has around 500.000 views already.”
Shit. That’s their payback for terrorizing that precinct all the time.
“ Fuck -”
Every now and then Wade turned up on his patrol and interrupted it exclaiming that they had a ‘Girls-Night-Out’. Most times Matt joined them but today it was just him and Wade as Foggy forbade them to take the other lawyer out this week because of some case.
‘Girls-Night-Out’ reached from going to the movies over a video game night to doing stupid crazy stunts on New York’s rooftops for dares and shots.
One time Wade surprised them with a whole scavenger hunt across the city finishing in a super-people rage room. Well technically it was a random warehouse which Wade just put a bunch of stuff in for them to destroy. Even an enormous piece of reinforced concrete and a sturdy, also reinforced (probably from Stark stolen) sledgehammer with which Peter practically pulverized the block. (Peter wasn’t going to question where Wade got the stuff from or how.)
Tonight Wade had set up a karaoke machine in ‘Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls’ much to Weasel’s displeasure.
“This isn’t a karaoke bar,” he had exclaimed, annoyance dripping off him.
Wade had simply asked, “Then why do you have a karaoke machine?”
“You brought it!”
It was a total hit. They set the night right off with a duet version of ‘Girls just wanna have fun’ and ‘Bop to the top’. They made a whole performance of it and did the dance and Wade even produced a ladder from somewhere.
People warmed up after a while and a little more alcohol. Even Weasel ‘let’ them continue (Not like he actually had a say in it.) after he noticed people drinking even more than usual, paying for more booze. They both monitored the songs chosen by other participants and only let them sing if the song was iconic enough.
A bar wide discussion broke out when the topic of NSYNC vs. Backstreet Boys was brought up. Wade and Peter even had a sing off with Wade singing ‘Everybody’ and Peter countering it with a, in his opinion, much better performance of ‘Bye Bye Bye’. The whole thing dissolved after two skirmishes and one whole brawl that broke out between the other bar goers. Two people needed to leave and about four had blood on them, from themselves or others.
NSYNC won obviously. They were easily better. Wade might see that differently but Peter knew the truth.
A beautiful rendition of ‘Torn’ by Natalie Imbruglia from a guy Wade introduced as ‘The Bolder’ sounded as Peter downed a tequila shot with his friend. The baritone, almost spoken-sung words sounded in the background.
“This was a great idea,” Peter exclaimed happily. “One of the best ‘Girls-Night-Out’ yet. Too bad DD couldn’t come.”
Wade only laughed. “The asshole would have complained all evening about the singing and tones and how we are flat or whatever. Not that I sing flat. I have a fantastic voice. Just wait until you hear my ‘Man! I feel like a woman’! If you don’t see my greatness yet you will be enlightened then. Hey Weasel, my weasley friend, Mr.Weasel-Man- You! Yeah you! The grumpy looking celery stick,” he called over the bar. The man in question let a heavy sigh fall as he walked over to them.
“What.” His tone flat like always.
“You will sing. I have the perfect song. Oh, oh! We can perform together! I know you get frightened easily and are probably the biggest chicken. But no fear my stodgy friend. Even if you suck, no one will notice as my more than stellar performance will outshine anything you do anyway. No come on or I’m going to show everyone the video I made when you were high on those mushrooms back in-”
Peter watched amused as Wade jumped behind the bar and dragged Weasel out with him and the now empty stage. Some of the usual patrons hollered, wolf whistled and even waved with one dollar bills at Weasel.
The whole thing was hilarious. It was good.
Finally, a good day after the literal shitshow that was his week. Nothing special happened. No big injuries or villains attacking or any big bust. It was all the small shit that stacked up.
First, the Méndez’ had canceled the tutoring session because they spontaneously had to leave the country, leave home for a funeral of a close family member back in mexico. Of course he understood and sent his condolences but man, he really needed the money for his food and Peter didn’t want to break into his emergency stash just yet, so earlier in the cold season. No that he wasn’t used to hunger but this week's cramps and hunger pains surpassed those of the last months by far.
Then, he got threatened, called out and actually shot at by some cops who seemed to hate them with their guts. It wasn’t even anything big. Just some guy who tried to assault a woman who he might have left a little more bloody than absolutely necessary. When he tried to talk the police through the whole encounter, as he does most times, the two of them just flipped and started to throw slurs at him, cussing him out for stealing their jobs and doing a shitty job while at it.
Peter tried to calmy leave to not escalate the whole situation further when one of the two just pulled his weapon and told him to not resist arrest or else he would be starting to shoot. Obviously, he left without another word. Scaled the building quickly and even had to jump out of the way of a bullet blazing past him as he jumped over the edge onto the rooftop.
And last but not least, this week has been hell for Peter Parker, the homeless teenager, too. It wasn’t unusual for people to throw insults his way or disgusted looks and even the occasional shove or kick but this week it seemed that everything and everyone hated him with all their might. Some weirdly aggressive people even threatened to call the police on him that one time when he sat on a bench in a park near a playground simply eating a sandwich and feeding the occasional pigeon with some crumbs.
Or when someone in the library kept scoffing at him and throwing him dirty looks when he was simply scribbling down some equations in his notebook trying to figure out the theories from a physics college course book on ‘Advanced Electromagnetic Theories’ he had found. In the end the person complained to the personnel about him and said that his smell and disgusting look was too distracting to them and everyone else and that Peter had to leave, that he shouldn’t even be allowed to go into a library.
He didn’t need to be prompted. Not only had the whole thing caused enough commotion for other library-goers to notice him, which was extremely embarrassing in itself but he also got pitying looks from some of the other regulars.
And if there is one thing Peter can’t handle it’s fucking pity.
In the end he packed away all his stuff, made a detour to the toilet to wash up a little and left directly to the closest laundromat.
So everything was shit and he had a shit mood later that night on patrol.
Then Wade turned up, whipped him away, happy like always and talking a mile a minute. He made Peter forget about how shitty he felt in no time.
But now, sitting there, listening to Wade and Weasel perform ‘No Diggity’ it came back to him. He was sure Wade didn’t know just how much Peter enjoyed this or how he had saved Peter’s week.
Sometimes, when everything built up, he tended to fall into a slump. Everything was exhausting enough as it was but when he was in one of those slumps he was even more tired, more exhausted and due to that more snappy and short tempered.
Peter didn’t like to think about what could happen if he fell too deep into that feeling. About what could happen if he didn’t pick himself up fast enough or didn’t get whisk away by the others. What kind of consequences it could have if someone would be on the receiving end of his anger.
It was also the first time in days that he honestly and wholeheartedly had fun. Earlier that day in the library, when he found that mathematical problem, he had come close to having fun in the challenge. But with the fiasco after everything good about the situation had just evaporated.
Nothing would be ruining this moment though. No, he would ignore every and all illegal conversations around him and simply enjoy the fun he had with his friend. Even the dodgy Russians in the back corner who were discussing some seriously suspicious sounding drug deal. He would look into that another day. They said something about an east side dock which was all he needed to start with his research tomorrow.
Tonight, ‘Girls-Night-Out’ had priority.
Like most of their legendary ‘Girls-Night-Out’ it ended in his latest, most nicest safehouse eating a bunch of junk food and watching a movie or play a bunch of stupid games before dozing off sometime early in the morning.
His small insecty friend was currently using his shower while Wade prepared the couch. A bunch of pillows and only the softest, least bloodstained for his bestie.
He wasn’t sure if Spidey actually knew just how much Wade loved him, how great of a friend he was to Wade. That’s also why he said and showed it (probably) too much, in hopes it would actually stick (Ha!) in his little friend’s head.
There was so much self-doubt and anxiety standing between Wade’s attempts to show exactly that and Spider-Man’s understanding of their friendship. Sure, he believed that they were in fact friends but Wade just knew that the little guy didn’t understand that he was in fact Wade’s best friend. He could see it the way Spidey always brushed off comments about it or when he completely ignored Wade calling him his best friend.
Overall there was a lot that stood between them. Things unsaid even beside his identity. Like the fact that Spidey was so very obviously lonely. That he didn’t have any people in his corner outside of the mask.
It was clear in the small pauses and gestures he tried to hide. When he got quiet sometimes and sat closer to them, reaching out hesitantly, almost scared, as if he would be turned away even though he had flung himself at them a million times over already without a thought.
Other times, when they touched him, initiated a hug he almost seemed overwhelmed as if he wasn't sure what to expect next, bracing himself even. He tensed then before he managed to relax into them and just enjoy the closeness he so obviously wanted.
Or in the way he lit up like a Christmas tree whenever they invited him over or just turned up somewhere.
But whenever his identity was brought up he got dodgy. Not the kind where you have to ask yourself if he would be hiding something big, something even they would disapprove of. No, Spidey was way too good of a person for that.
It was almost like he feared about them rejecting him if they found out about him.
As if Wade could ever not love him. As if Wade wasn’t a million times more repulsive than Spidey could ever be.
It’s clear as day to him and Matty at least that they were the closest thing Spidey had to people in his life, friends almost as close as family. Along with all the other superpeople, especially Clint and, for whatever reason Wade still didn’t understand and had long stopped trying to understand, Frank-fucking-Castle.
So they hugged him close when they thought he needed it or when he didn't and got to laugh it off. They taught him and fed him and let him stay when he lingered after a night out.
Spider-Man had no people to go to besides them and Wade may or may not had cried a little after he realized that one evening early in their relationship.
Everybody should know not to trust him, a mercenary who killed people for money and sometimes for fun (Bad people only of course). But not Spidey. He simply hung out with him and carelessly followed him to go watch TV and fell asleep beside him. No person with an ounce of self preservation would do such a thing.
But the real kicker? Before he had slumped into his side and Wade had told the little guy all that, how dangerous he was and that he shouldn’t trust people that easily, tried to warn him and maybe provoke some fight or flight response. Spidey half asleep already mumbled into his side that he had a sense for dangerous people and that Wade never once triggered it seriously (which, by the way, rude). When he had asked Spidey if he really didn’t want to tell someone where he was just in case (because Wade didn’t believe at the time that Spidey actually trusted him and that he should at least share his location with the people he was important to or whatever) he simply answered, ‘There is no one’ and ‘I trust you, Wade’ .
Spidey probably didn’t realize it at the time (as he was asleep a second later) but God, how simply he said it, that young voice? A tragic instrumental string-piece could have set in right there and it would have been straight out of a tear-pushing movie.
He had shared his concerns with Matty who he had grown closer to through that as well. The man didn’t know how to deal with that shit either, though. (Quote: “Do you think I know how to talk to him about his emotions? No, you do it!”)
It was nice to care for someone.
Never in a million years did Wade think he would ever get to this point where he genuinely cared for someone without expecting anything or thinking about them romantically or sexually.
Spidey was there. He was his friend. That’s it. That’s all that was important.
Not what he did for a living or his mutation and his scars. Not the way he talked to yellow and white sometimes or became overbearing with just being himself (even to himself sometimes).
Wade knew Spider-Man would be his friend even if he stopped stuffing him with food and bundling him in blankets like now (Not that he ever would). He only stopped for a second the first time he had seen him without his mask, more in surprise than anything else, and after he continued his rant about the underappreciation of mushrooms and their ability to process plastic right on.
Nothing changed. Never once made Spidey an attempt to leave. Or something stupid, like turn him in.
And Wade got a bunch of other friends through Spidey as well. Like, not that he couldn’t make his own friends with his sparkling personality. But before Spidey was in the picture the other vigilantes tolerated him at best if they were not completely hostile at worst. Not that it stopped him from bothering them. Now though, he also hung out with them without Spidey and they didn’t seem at all against it. Matty loved him even though he wouldn’t admit it and Franky had stopped putting bullets in his head whenever he turned up.
It was great to have him.
That’s also why Wade was going to make Spidey feel his bestest before trying to broach the topic which had begun to concern him and their buddies for a while now.
His little spidery friend had always been small and thin. Like a matchstick. Or one of those cotton swabs? Anyway, apparently it had something to do with his metabolism and enhancements but as of lately Wade couldn’t quite believe him anymore.
He of all people knew how much someone with enhancements needed to eat and just how fast a body could burn through the calories. It should have gotten better with a little encouragement and generally force feeding.
But no, instead Spidey slimmed down even more.
The look of him in the surgery room of Stark Tower a few weeks ago- After they peeled the suit away and then the layers of clothing underneath, there wasn’t much left of him. Beside the obvious gruesomeness of blood everywhere, open wounds and bruises he was covered in, Wade couldn’t tear his eyes away from his legs, arms and torso. If he wanted to, he could count his rips. He could still recall the outline of his shoulder blades and spine.
And that wasn’t all there was.
It happened every now and then. One moment they sat and laughed and then, when they got up to do shit Spidey faltered, just stopped for a second, swaying on the spot before he gathered himself again and continued like nothing happened at all.
Other times it was more extreme and mostly when they were fighting people or sparring. He would get thrown to the floor hard and like he should he would climb back to his feet. But then, out of nowhere he would drop back down to the floor, fainting. Spidey fainted. Never for long but it shouldn’t happen at all.
Afterwards it’s always the same. He forgot to eat or his metabolism is so high that he needs to eat so often he could sometimes not manage his intake inbetween patrol.
It was one of the topics he was sensitive about.
The door chimed, which- perfect timing.
The delivery guy was too stunned to speak when he opened the door so he just took the many bags out of his arms and pushed the money and a hefty tip in his hand. He kicked the door close with a happy, “Toodleloo!”
That’s also when Spidey got out of the bathroom, happily bouncing on his feet and exclaiming like an excited little pupper, “Uhh nice! I love Thai-food!”
He was practically drowning in Wade's sweats he had stolen from his drawer. The bottoms even cuffed over a few times so he wouldn’t stumble on them.
“Well don’t you just look adorable,” Wade cooed, unceremoniously dropped the bag’s on the couch table and fished his phone out of his pocket, pointing it at Spidey like a proud middle-aged mom. “Let me take a picture. Cute as a button, that’s what you are!”
Webs flung himself at him and tried to grab the phone from him but Wade simply held it up and out of his way. The little man then decided to start and climb him so he let the phone drop behind him and caught it with his other hand behind his back. The now free hand started a tickle attack on Spidey’s side who still stuck to his sides with his hands and feet.
A loud shriek sounded from him and Web’s tried to kick him away but Wade didn’t give up and just tickled him more. Even went after him when the small spider jumped off him to the couch.
By now he was clearly crying from laughter and loudly heard through the shrieks of ‘Wade! Wade, let me- *shriek* let me- GO! WADE! AHAHAHA! Stop!!’
“Why should I? You are obviously having fun, now don’t ya’? Why else would you be laughing so heartedly, hmm? Tell me Spidey, what’s so funny?”
“WADE- Stop! Stop! AHAHA Wade, if you don’t- AHAHAHA- stop or I’m going to piss myself. *Shriek* Wade! PLEASE!”
Well, he didn’t want to deal with that. Eww.
He let himself fall into the couch beside Webs and turned to organize their mountain of take-out. Beside him Webs regained his breath and punched Wade in the arm one time. “Jackass.”
“Whatever do you mean? Now come on and dig in before the food get’s cold. I think we should start rewatching Avatar. What do you think? Man, I got the hots for Zuko. And Sokka- And obviously Azula. Not in a weird -they are technically still teenagers- way but the -they are animated characters like Nick from Zootopia is hot- way. You get me? I know you do. Ok, decision made. Avatar it is. Did you know that there are heathens in this world that skip the intro? It’s like when you skip the Steven Universe intro. A crime under the geneva convention, like how do you not sing or speak every word with them. Criminals, the bunch of them!”
Wade waited until after they finished two episodes and his bestie had already eaten a bunch of the food before he broached the topic so as to not lessen his appetite perhaps.
Right now he looked comfortable, bundled in a blanket and munching on some spring rolls.
Cute.
Like a little caterpillar.
“Do you want to talk about something, Wade? Your breathing is a bit weird.” There was concern in Spidey’s tone and his head was tilted to the side a bit. Matty really coloured off on him. (Ha! The color- colored off? You get it.)
Here it goes. Don’t fuck this up, Wade. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me.”
“ ‘Course I know that.” The concern switched to confusion.
“ Do you ?” Not the time for sarcasm, dumbass!
“Wade-” Webs set the container aside and turned to him more fully. “What is this about?”
He paused the episode and tucked one leg under the other to also turn to his side. A spring in the couch creaked as he did. They sat facing each other then so Wade could see the frown tucking on his little arachnid friend’s lips and his right hand fidgeted the seam of his blanket.
“You know I worry about you. When you get yourself stabbed or burned or shot at. And I know you can handle yourself. But- I also care about your other shit, yeah? You are my best friend and I worry about you, which is super fucking terrifying by the way, having to worry about people. But let’s not unpack that right now. What I’m getting at is I worry about you, all of you. Even behind your mask.”
His whole body tensed and even though Wade couldn’t see his face, he knew his friend was closing off. The fidgeting hand stopped and twitched slightly to his face, as if he wanted to tuck his mask the rest of the way down.
“I don’t want you to take your mask off or tell me who you are. I just want to make sure that you are ok outside of the mask, too. And you don’t seem-”
Webs tensed even further so Wade backpedaled and tried a different approach. “Ok, let’s put it that way- I have a bunch of different enhancements like you. You know that. For those to work well I need fuel. With that I mean a lot of fucking food. Like damn I need a lot of food to sustain myself and not feel shitty. Well, less shitty than I usually already do. Anyway, I know how much people with enhancements need to eat and- and I don’t think you eat enough.”
Wade wanted to reach out, to tuck him under his arm and hold him but Spidey seemed so spooked already that he forced himself to hold back.
“Spidey, you are so thin. Thin like a stick about to snap. You eat whenever we are together and I give you food. I lo- ove sharing my food with you and feeding you and sharing all the best taco- and hot dog-spot’s with you but I need to know that you also eat enough outside of our time we spend together and right now I don’t think you do. And I- if you tell me why, maybe I can fix it, yeah? ‘Cause I can’t watch you waste away. You are much too important to me to watch that happen. Just tell me. Please .”
For a moment there was only silence. The words hung heavy between them and Wade wasn’t sure if he should wait or speak on, trying something different to make Spidey open up. But even if he decided to speak it was only going to get worse from here, because he didn’t know what else there was to say. How could he phrase his concern and not be a dick about, to be an adult and serious for once?
Spidey turned away from him, sat back on the couch and hugged his knees to his chest.
“I didn’t think it had gotten that bad,” he said so quietly, Wade would have missed it if the room weren’t so silent to begin with.
“So, is this- but you eat with me and that’s no problem, right? You like eating food.”
He tucked his mask down and rubbed his hands hard over his head. “Yes, yes, Wade- it’s not a problem like that. I want to eat.”
It had been better with the little part of his face he could see. Now Wade had to figure everything, all the emotions and implications out by his voice alone. Spidey shut himself out a little further this way, protecting himself with the little piece of fabric. It saddened him and Wade wished for once that he could just look him in the face. No, stop that thought right now!
“But you can’t,” he said evenly. A statement, a fact that Spidey couldn’t eat though he didn’t know why yet.
Spidey’s head turned further away from Wade. “It’s just- I’m in a- a rough patch right now, ok? And I got hurt a lot these past weeks and I need even more food to heal right like you said and- food is- it’s-” He rubbed hands forcefully over his clothed face again and admitted, whispered, “It’s really expensive.”
Oh.
Money- Of course it’s money. Wade could work with that.
“Well, that’s easy to fix.” With that he pulled out his wallet and grabbed a bunch of hundreds and twenties and whatever else he had in there.
Beside him Webs practically leaped to the other end of the couch. Wade didn't need to see his face to recognize the shock.
“What are you doing?!”
And that was an angry shout. Damn, why is he angry?
His hands, the money still clutched in them, froze, unsure if he should put it away again. “Fixing the problem?"
“Stop that! I’m not some charity case!”
Shit. Fuck! Fix this you stupid-
“I never said you were.” Good?
“I will not take your money, Wade! For God’s sake-”
Not good. Got it.
He sprung to his feet and paced the space beside the couch table. The slap-slap of his bare feet on the floor instead of his usual silent steps more telling about his frustration than any words could ever be. “I’m dealing with it, ok? I’m really thankful for everything you do and I already take so much, much more than I can ever repay you. It’s not- I-” Spidey huffed frustratedly before letting himself fall back into the couch again.
“Let it rest, please. I’ll deal with it. I already know it’s a problem and I’m working on it.”
Maybe, if it weren’t for the desperation in his voice, for the distress clearly painted all over his friend he would have pushed a little more, but like this Wade couldn’t. He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to push. Push so fucking hard to just take the stupid money.
But if he did, maybe Webs would leave. He certainly looked like he would.
Fuck. FUCK!
Wade put the money back away and sat back in his seat as well, also turning away from Webs, with his hands clenched as he, with great restrain, said a simple, “Ok.” His tone was defeated.
“Ok, but-” Because fuck defeated. He needed to help.
“Wade-” Spidey interrupted him but Wade cut him right off again.
“No, no, let me-” Wade turned and this time didn’t hesitate, took Webs by the arms and gently held him there, facing Wade as he continued, “You come to me. If you need anything, and I mean anything. It’s no shame to ask for some help every now and then and I don’t judge, yeah? No questions asked. It doesn’t have to be money. You can also just come by and we brunch together or ask me to test out all the burger-spots in this disgusting city and rate them.”
“We should do that anyway. That is a great idea actually. Well, I always have great ideas but this one is one of the better ones. How the fuck didn’t we do this yet? Maybe we should start a food-blog together and share all our wisdom with the world. Rating places, do specials for the extra special corner shops we frequent and oh- We will call the whole thing ‘Mr.Man&Pool’s food-reviews’ or ‘Food-gilanties’. And our slogan is something like ‘We save you from robbers and food poisoning!’ No! That’s not catchy enough. Hmm- We’ll think of something on Saturday. You’re free on Saturday, right? We’ll do our burger-tour then.”
“What I want to say is- It’s ok if you are in a rough patch and you want to get through it on your own. I get it. Maybe- anyway, if you ever find yourself at a point where you don’t know what else to do? I’ll help. No questions, no judgment. Most of my money is stolen from bad guy’s anyway so you don’t have to feel bad taking it if you get to that point. Don’t be too proud, ok?”
For a while they stared at each other, with wide and to not-mask-wearing-people emotionless eyes. Wade could feel the slight tremble in Webs’ body where he still held him. Maybe, to hold his friend up or for him not to flee, but Wade held him until he saw the small nod. A small nod, followed by his head slumping to Spidey’s chest.
Wade took him into his arms and exclaimed, “Let’s do something fun! I’m getting depressed.”
“One, I once chopped off my head with a makeshift guillotine to see which end would regrow. Two, I once played the Phantom of the Opera on Broadway as a last-minute substitute And Three, hmm- Matty and I made out once but I had blown my head out an hour before and he was drunk so we both can’t remember if it was any good.”
He laughed, “No way you have made out with Matt. That one is the lie. No way! No way! Just a month ago he broke your arm for a slightly inappropriate comment about his ass. He wouldn’t let you near his lips in like-”
“Ok, ok I get it. No need to get rude, yeah? And you’re wrong by the way. The second one was a lie. Though, I’d be great on Broadway!”
Peter turned to him fully in shock. “I can’t believe Matt let you kiss him.”
Wade looked outraged. “Hey! Maybe I was the one who needed to be convinced in that exchange!”
“Were you?”
He stopped for a second, probably fixing him with a glare under his mask. Peter couldn’t help but grin at his friend who just punched him in the arm and grumbled, “It’s your turn.”
A laugh barked out of him but he humored Wade. “One-”
You see, this game was tricky. Peter had endless opportunities beyond truth and lies as Wade would simply never know (Though he wouldn’t lie. He had to promise and that is something Peter respected). But on the other hand, any detail too much could reveal him, his identity or his age. So he took his time.
He knew the reason they played this game was for Wade to get to know something, a side of him he didn’t show. Wade wasn’t the kind of person wanting him to slip up with this. It was a simple attempt to learn. To look beyond the piece of fabric and see more reasons to love his friend. Or to get embarrassing stories to share.
Sometimes Peter hated himself for deceiving Wade like this. Them all really but Wade especially. More so than anyone else in the community he loved Peter for and despite what little he knew of him. His past didn’t matter, what his job might possibly be or how he lived. Their friendship simply stood on the basis of liking to spend time with one another, having someone who you could talk to for hours on end or just listen to if the words left you and the voices in your head needed to be silenced with noise. Rushing thoughts, bouncing them off of each other or playing, really. Like now, in the quiet of the night, sitting close, warm, fed and feeling protected by one another and playing a stupid game after a heavy heart to heart.
Might as well get the lie out of the way so he can think up some nice truths.
“My only memory of my parents is them dropping me off with my relatives, smiling and telling me they love me and to get better soon before leaving.”
He said it absentmindedly. It’s a lie he liked to tell himself. A scenario he had built himself up a long time ago and which he indulged in the dead of night. Building the smiling images of the few photos he had of his parents to tell him exactly that before leaving for the airport.
It almost surprised him that that is the most promising lie he could think of with every other detail of his life. The way he told Wade what he had eaten that day and made it sound much more than it actually had been, if anything at all. How Peter hovered around his words with Matt in case he paid attention to his heartbeat or how he had told Clint that he worked in education.
Wade didn’t react physically, stayed quiet as Peter cleared his thoughts to continue their game, his hands more interesting now than before.
“Two, at the Stark Expo, Stark swooped in and safed me when a drone was about to kill me and three-”
He stopped for a second, turned to look at Wade who was picking in a bag of skittles, stopping shortly to send him a small smile and oh- Wade was putting all the orange and red ones extra for him, the colors Peter liked best.
In that moment, however small it would look later, Peter felt how deep his trust laid with the man. A man he shouldn’t really trust with his life but did anyway. Might as well throw him a bone.
“Three- I have brown eyes. Hazel actually.”
The head snapped back to him.
The corner of Peter’s lips twitched to a smile.
For a moment silence spread between them and Peter was on the brink or getting nervous, revisiting the words he used in his memories in case he had actually still revealed something he didn’t want without noticing.
“The second one,” Wade began eventually, “it’s the lie. You told me and Matty you never met other super people before us.”
His smile widened into a smirk, “Wrong. Stark saved my life that day. It’s not like I could count a short swooping in and the three words he said to me before zooming off again as meeting, now can I? Matt can hear lies but he is bad with the lies by omission.”
“You sneaky bastard. So what was the lie?”
His gaze broke off to his hands again. Maybe he leaned a little more over to Wade when he answered, “The first one. I can’t remember my parents at all. I remember the second they were gone but-” The words cut off. He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence and eventually he just didn’t.
A strong arm tucked him into his side which he gladly laid into. “So your eyes are brown, huh?”
Naturally, he could rely on Wade to make a situation feel easier than it actually was. The big feelings, smaller and manageable. “You know, Spidey, I can’t wait to see them. When you’re ready of course, in your own time. But if you have a say in it, I expect to be the first to know. You hear me? If I hear that Legolas or the alcoholic Wonder Woman, Franky-Boy or Mr. glowstick-fist has seen you before me, you will have all your bff privileges revoked.”
A laugh bubbled out of him and he poked Wade into his side. “Of course you’ll be the first. If- When I’m ready and it’s my choice you’ll be the first person I’ll go to. I promise.”
The laughter died away again and he took the hand slung around his shoulders into his own. His tone quiet when he asked, a childish and stupid request that he couldn’t stop before putting it out into the room, “But you need to promise me to stay- when I tell you, promise me that it won’t change anything or that you’ll-”
“I promise,” Wade interrupted him, squeezing his hand. “I promise.”
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Notes:
*trigger warning*
underage drinkingHello Hello,
what's up bitches. Here is another chapter for you (*throws it like breadcrumps to pigeons*) Enjoy!
My roomie said she enjoyed this one. I feel very accomplished, thank you very much. (Also thanks roomie for proofreading <3) Everyone say 'thanks roomie<3'The group is so chaotic but they love each other! (Yes, Matt&Frank: you love each other, too!!)
The comments under my last chapter made my heart swell. Y'all are too sweet. xoxo
I also welcome feedback and critisim, so feel free to leave that in the comments as well.Enjoy reading! Thank you for being here!
Love and kisses
Chapter Text
In the house across from Peter, there was a cat grooming itself behind the window. A super fluffy cat with a white speck right in the middle of its long gray fur. And the- oh there was a second spot on the right back leg, just by the paw.
A pigeon landed beside him and curred. The little neck twisted around, looking for something to peck at by him. It flew away when Peter tried to pet its head.
Sometimes Clint and Peter liked to play ‘I spy’ when perching somewhere up top. A super people version of it. (Peter didn’t really believe that Clint doesn’t have some kind of enhancement going on with his eyes. They were way too good to be normal-people eyes.)
Feet dangling over the edge he watched people go about their day, waving at a kid or even a grown-up here and there when they spotted him up top on the building.
It was a nice day. Sun out and shining. The sky blue with the occasional fluffy cloud. A nice change after last weeks’ mostly grayish if not rainy weather. Right around the corner, in the skate-park, are even some of the usuals, doing their thing despite the temperatures and because of the great weather.
Across the street a kid who until now had done their homework on one of the restaurant's tables got called up by the parent and put behind the register. The man disappeared out of view. It’s a good place. Whenever he, as Spidey, helped them carry in some of the heavier deliveries he got a box of fresh spring rolls for it. They’re delicious.
Before the shop a woman who loudly complained about transfer dates of some sort and incompetent colleagues into her phone bumped into a girl who kept her head down while she walked. The girl quickly wound out of her way and went on, ignoring the insult thrown by the angry telephone woman.
The girl, not much older than Peter himself by the looks of it, quickened her pace and threw a cautious look over her shoulder before ducking her head again.
Peter followed her look back the street and spotted two buff guys obviously following her.
She changed the street and headed straight for the skate-park as Peter jumped off the building. The guys were hot on her heels.
He connected a web to a landpost and swung the short distance over to the park. Just as the guys were about to enter the park he landed in a crouch at the entrance, cutting them off.
Peter stood up tall, crossing his arms. “I’d rethink that big guy.”
The hunk startled back a few steps but recovered soon enough, puffing himself up to his full height. His buddy stayed behind and even took a few steps back at the superheros' presence.
“This has nothing to do with you freak,” he spat at Peter and tried to push past with a shove of his shoulder.
Unsuccessful as Peter simply grabbed the man by the wrist, twisted it a little and brought him to his knees. “Yeah- don’t even think about it. You see, I kind of dislike old douchebags like you following teenage girls. Not my vibe, you understand?”
“Let go of me,” the man demanded with a pained grunt as he tried to free his hand.
“Or what?” Peter bent down and whispered right in his ear. “You are going to stand up, take your buddy back there and walk away. If I see you again stalking girls, we are going to have some real problems. You hear me? Following, threatening- oh much as looking somewhere you know you are not allowed to look. Do. You. Understand. Me?”
For a second he didn’t react. His face red and swollen, neck veins popping out of his neck with such force one could worry they were about to burst.
Peter twisted the hand just a little further, making the guy grunt his agreement with pure hatred.
He let go and the man scrambled to his feet, away from Peter. With one last spat to the street he turned and walked off with the other guy.
When he turned around he was met with an armful of the girl.
“You’re alright. Try to take deep breaths.” Peter patted her back for a bit before taking her arms from around him and guiding her over to a bench. Some of the skater-people were also mingling around by then, watching, interested at the scene.
“I- I tried to ignore them in- in the s- subway station and then they just started following me and- and-” A sob cut her off as she tearfully tried to explain what had happened.
Peter kept a hand on her shoulder, rubbing comforting circles there. “It’s ok- hey- hey- you’re safe now. Ok? I’m here and all these people who are probably super cool as well. Yeah? Nothing to worry about. You’re safe. Try to take deep breaths. Can you do that?”
It took some time but eventually she calmed down, Peter at her side the whole time. The other people also got the message to give them their space and went about their skating-business. They watched them, sitting together calmly as they did their tricks. The one where they flip the board and when they jump and twist on the ramp and that kick thing. So freaking cool.
“Do you want me to walk your home or wherever you need to go,” he asked the girl, who he had eventually learned is named Mary.
“No- no, it’s fine. I-” She took a deep breath. “I’ll text my dad. He’ll come and get me.”
“Ok. I'll stay until he does if that’s ok?”
She nodded as she got her phone out. Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as she blushed. “Yes, of course. Thank you so much Spider-Man! Really, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come.”
“It’s no problem at all. I hope you’re ok enough.”
With a sigh she said, “Yeah- I think so.”
“Anything I can do to make it better?”
Mary shook her head shyly.
“Can you do a backflip,” someone asked from the side. A boy not much older than them.
The requests got out of hand from there but Peter happily entertained the group of kids and teenagers. Did flips and tricks and even attempted some with the boards people gave him to try. And man that shit was not as easy as it looked even when you can do the stuff he could. Peter probably never looked less cool in his suit as he fell on his face and butt about a thousand times.
Mary watched the whole thing furrowly amused and by the end, when her dad came and picked her up, she was laughing again. They parted with a wave and another ‘Thank you, Spider-Man.’
Peter stayed a little longer in the park, attempting to skate and sharing cool stories with the locals to distract from his most definitely less cool skating.
“Don’t you have that sleek looking costume? Why are you wearing that?” One of the younger kids had asked him at some point, referring to the hat, the scarf, spider-themed-coloured tracksuit pants and the red sweater with a spray painted spider in the front he was wearing on top of his suit.
Peter looked down at himself, arms spread a little. Then back up to the kid, up into the air around him, even did a slow spin until his gaze landed back on the kid. “It’s fucking cold,” he deadpanned. They sniggered as he went on. “It’s a suit and not a costume. And do you want to go around in nothing but a spandex suit when it’s literally freezing at night? Nahh- I don’t think you do, do ya’?”
He pointed a finger at the group of them. “Don’t use the word fuck. Bad word. Not allowed, like- legally, you are not allowed. I should know, one of my best friends is a lawyer. I didn’t say fuck either. I have a reputation to uphold, you know- Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man and my lawyer friend would probably woop my ass for saying fuck a bunch of times in front of a group of young impressionable kids.”
“Not a kid,” a child said. A child with facial hair and a deeper voice than he could ever dream of having.
Peter snorted, “Sure.”
“I’m taller than you.” (Get in line.)
“Hey! No need to get personal!”
They laughed and showed Peter more tricks, some of which he even landed. After a few hours when sundown came, the street lights turned on, some of the early Christmas decorations lit up as well, most of them dispersed.
Back home. Back to friends and families. Or to get dinner somewhere.
Peter waved the last of them goodbye and swung himself up and away.
A few blocks down he found himself another rooftop to sit on, legs swaying over the edge, watching out for someone to help.
It wasn’t the first time that Frank took Peter, as Spider-Man of course, out of the city to train. He knew that he would never ever shoot at someone but if he wanted to learn how to handle guns safely and disarm people, he also needed to learn how to shoot. At least that was the rule Frank had set. Oh and he always got free food as well as time in the nice heated car out of it. Definitely a plus.
The car rides out of the city always took way too long, even though they left before morning traffic.
The buildings slowly transcended into trees. The low tune music and soft bums in the road made him doze off where he sat bundled up in the passenger seat. It was nice to wake up a bit cozy and warm for once as well.
Their routine was easy. Frank drove them somewhere he didn’t know, then would drink a coffee and prepare some guns Peter didn’t know yet. He dis-, then reassembled them in front of Peter and explained every little detail on how the parts fit and worked together. Peter would just watch and listen. He learned from many disgruntled frowns that Frank liked the questions afterwards.
After he was done Peter would do the exact same thing Frank did, asking his questions and get corrected sometimes. It was easy enough and as a fast learner Peter picked it up fairly swiftly. In the end guns had simple mechanisms that made sense in their composition, like how certain circuits worked together and followed a logical order.
Then he did it all over to show that he actually got it.
Next, Frank would show him how to disarm people who want to shoot him with those guns out of every angle Peter could possibly think of and some more. Now that he knew how to handle different kinds of weapons unlike when he first started, Frank always asked first what he would try before showing him different or more effective ways. At that part of the training they often spared for a bit and the small ‘good’ or ‘Attaboy’ he got from the older man always made him feel a little warm inside.
Sparring with Frank was always fun and effective. Peter had learned a bunch from the older man about how to quickly overcome someone in a fight. Also fighting dirty sometimes and how to utilize your opponents weaknesses to your advantage. Like DD, Frank had no qualms about handing Peter's ass to himself which was definitely how Peter liked his training sessions best. None of that considerate shit where he didn’t learn anything in the end. And it looked like Frank liked the challenge of a fight with someone smaller, faster and stronger as him as well.
The shooting part was the only part Peter dreaded. But he knew that he had to go through it as well as for Frank’s rule, so he did. If it sometimes made him sick at how good he was at it, how his senses sharpened his aim and he met the target dead on, then Frank didn't need to know.
Today was no different and when they were done Peter got a big sandwich, filled with a shit-ton of prosciutto, tomatoes and mozzarella, from Frank which he savored as much as he could as a malnourished teenager with a higher metabolism than Captain America. So, not at all.
God, could Frank make a good- fucking- sandwich.
They sat together against Frank's van's hood in somber silence, looking out mindlessly into the woods. The puffs of air they breathed turned white in the cold air. Frank’s heartbeat sounded steadily beside him, baselining the rustling of the forest.
“Could I ask you something personal,” Peter asked into the calm.
The steady heart beat on. Frank took the last bite of his sandwich and after swallowing the man shortly answered, “Depends.”
“If they were still here, your family, would you also show them how to deal with guns? Not like you show me, but like the basics for self defense?” Something Peter had thought about before but until now didn’t feel the courage to bring up.
For a second Frank froze beside him, staring past the trees with that far away look he got sometimes before he shook his head slightly. “No, you can’t ask that question.”
Alright, too personal.
The silence took over again but thicker, more loaded than before.
Peter's voice was more quiet when he spoke up again, a little unsure around Frank and the new tension with which he held himself. “You know it actually helps to talk about them.” That's what the social worker said to them once at a group home meeting. Was it his first or second one? “To talk about the people you miss. It’s nothing wrong with… feeling you know?”
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”
Ok, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, but sometimes Peter simply couldn’t hold his tongue. The other man’s demeanor had already changed from nostalgic and grieving to hostile and strained. A vein began to pop out of his neck and his hands flexed where he held them against the hood.
“I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t understand in some kind of way, Frank. I know about pain, too.”
“Oh, yeah? You know about the pain of seeing the life leaving your childrens' eyes?” When Peter didn’t respond immediately, he continued, “Yeah, ‘didn't think so.” His tone was sharp and confrontational though he didn’t look at Peter yet.
The young vigilante turned to Frank who still didn’t regard him with one look.
“You know nothing about me,” Peter spat. He was getting mad now, too. “You can’t tell me what I know or don't know about pain.”
“Pff- '' Frank almost laughed at this, bitter and disbelieving.. “You’re what- 22, 23? A little young for children don’t you think? 20-something and wanna tell me about pain.” The last part was only muttered but still too loud for Peter not hearing.
“You don’t fucking know me! What do you know about me, what I’ve been through? Nothing! You know nothing!”
Oh, Peter was mad mad now. Standing and facing Frank, most definitely shouting. “Every fucking superhero out there has a tragic backstory. What would make me different? Did you seriously think after I got my powers I decided to go out there just to get a kick out of it? For fun? That webbing bad guys up is just my hobby or some shit?”
“Well you never painted me the picture about some big fucking motive of yours, don’t you? Yeah, we know nothing about you behind your mask, so why the fuck should I expect anything from you?”
“You know I trust you. I trust Clint, Wade and Matt but I can’t take this mask off. You think I don’t want to? That I don’t want to be a normal fucking person around you and the others? I can’t take it off because every person I got close to without it? They’re all dead.” Peter’s tone dropped to a speaking volume but not any less tense, any less charged. “Or they just left. So, sorry that I just try to keep some people in my life. Even if this-” He gestured to his hidden face. “-is the only way.”
Peter breathed heavily. He wasn’t done yet, but forced himself to continue calmer. He tried at least to honor May and Ben. They shouldn’t be shouted about. “I didn’t go through the exact same thing as you. I didn’t have children, but I watched my family die nonetheless.”
He needed to pause for a moment to catch his breath. The words began to choke up in the back of his throat. His voice dejected now and lost in his own grief. Grief he had tried to distance himself from these last two years. “I remember the blood that left their bodies. I couldn’t stop the bleeding.” His drifted off, to Frank’s side where he could practically see their bodies on the floor. His hands felt sticky. “-Had to watch them die. The people who I was closest to in the world.”
The fight turned back into Peter and he practically spat the words. “You tell me I shouldn’t talk about stuff I don’t know about, well hate to break it to you, but you are a big fucking hypocrite!”
Peter walked away, his energy too keyed up and no way to leave in the middle of the goddamn woods. He quickly climbed a tree high up till near the top where even the thin branches held him effortlessly.
It wasn’t nearly as high as when he was in New York up on the skyscrapers. But the view seemed endless with the sea of trees that was only parted by the highway he could see in the distance.
How dare Frank! How dare he insinuate Peter did all this for nothing. That Spider-Man didn’t deal with he shit they did just because he was younger than them. His whole life was a shitshow and Frank didn’t get to diminish the hurt he went through.
His thoughts ran a mile a minute and the emotions which were muddled into the mix didn’t help the oncoming panic Peter experienced. Did he reveal too much? Did he ruin the good relationship he built with Frank? Would he want to know more?
Shit, it was all too much and Peter just needed some air, but the air he was trying to get fell short in his throat. Why wasn't he getting any air? He was literally sitting in the middle of the woods, nowhere else should be more cold fresh air.
‘In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4’ A distant thought caught his attention in a voice sounding remarkably similar to Matt’s. It’s what he told Peter the last time he found himself unable to breathe. It was on the rooftop with Frank after he almost killed a man.
‘In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4’ Yeah he could do it. He didn’t need anyone else. He could do it with Matt’s voice in his head. Just ‘In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4’.
When he came back from his head and to his breath the sky was already getting dark. He still needed to get back to the city and just hoped that Frank wouldn’t have left him there after their argument. I really need a watch, Peter thought to himself, with no clue what time it could possibly be.
He swung down again. Frank sat beside the car, coffee in hand staring into the woods with a far away gaze. As soon as Peter stood beside him he asked gruffly, “You cooled down?”
“Yeah, you?” Really Peter? You don’t even know if he’s still mad at you. Don’t get so cocky.
But he just huffed a small laugh, looked at him with a carefully blank face and responded, “Sure squirt.”
The drive back was as quiet as the one out in the morning. The radio played a low tune and some snowflakes began to fall just as they left the site.
“I’m sorry.” Frank broke the silence after a while. “You’re right, I don’t know you.”
That was definitely nothing Peter expected to happen.
“Oh no, you know me, well, part of me very well, the part that matters. Spider-Man, ya’ know? And- I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have asked about your family or gotten so angry. That was stupid and childish.”
Silence filled the car once again. It was a content quietness and Peter was glad that everything he worried about turned out nothing like he feared.
They drove a while before Frank spoke up again. It was more gentle than before and his tone showed how clearly he struggled if he should question the young vigilante at all, “Who did you lose?”
“Everyone.”
The man beside him made a confused kind of sound, giving him a sideward glance. Frank’s eyebrows were furrowed, the question clearly written in his face and Peter thought that he out of all people should know what that answer ment. It was hard to explain. “Without the mask I don’t have anyone. They’re all gone one way or the other. I just have you, Clint, Matt and Wade and I can’t risk losing you, too.”
“That’s why you wear that stupid mask?”
“It’s not stupid. It’s- it’s protection. No one can see my face, knows who I am. No one can see when I get scared or panicked. With the mask I’m brave and strong and that hero people look up to. Without it I am just not that person. But also as protection for you and the others.”
Peter took a deep breath. Frank didn’t speak knowing that he wasn’t finished yet and giving him the time he needed. It was also great how Frank didn’t really look at him once, his eyes trained on the road before them. This way it was a lot easier for Peter to articulate his thoughts.
“There was this librarian who was always nice to me, always asked me about my day and how I was doing. Mrs. Jenn, she would hold some of the books she knew I would like back for me to read first. It’s not like a lot or anything but she was the only person who I regularly spoke to. She even gave me baked goods sometimes.”
“Mrs. Jenn died a month ago. I don’t know why or how and I almost missed the funeral because they didn’t want to tell me when and where it was held. In the end I could only go because one of her coworkers recognized me. All our conversations were pretty superficial, but to me? She was the closest I had to a friend outside of the mask.”
The snowfall was getting heavier now and the trees were already coated in the thin white. It’s peaceful, sitting in the warm car and watching an icy storm brewing together outside. As if you shook a snowglobe and the little white snowflakes swirl dizzyingly in the glass. Peter’s eyes were fixed on a far away point, watching but not really seeing the trees flying by.
“No one stays. I know it changes too much when I take the mask off and if you don’t leave first, I just- I couldn’t cope burying any of you.”
If his mask was wet now he wouldn’t notice. It is true, if he had to watch any of them die, he wouldn’t survive it. It’s actually surprising he made it this far, bearing it all.
Frank looked a little concerned at him when he started talking again, tearing Peter out of his haze, “I’m not good at giving advice or reply to the heartfelt stuff but I’ll listen if you ever want to tell me about them.”
There was a small caring smile in the corner of his lips after he spoke. That and the small side glance Peter received really showed how much the man cared even though he didn’t like people to know.
Peter sniffled for a second but also smiled so widely under his mask that it could be heard when he replied, “Thank you, Frank.”
“Let’s get back fast to the city. The snow is getting heavier and I don’t want to get stranded.”
The rest of the drive was quiet again. They were almost in Hell’s Kitchen and Frank suggested drinking beer somewhere when his phone rang.
After Frank finished the call he said, “We’ll meet Red at his place. Wilson and Barton will be there, too. Has to be something big.”
Peter just nodded in response. He heard the whole conversation. Frank didn’t mention him coming, too, but Matt would have probably told him on patrol tonight.
The street they were driving on was already coated with a layer of the white little flakes. It was brighter than usual for this hour because of the amount of white reflecting the light all around but no one stopped to look and marvel at it like most do when they see the small snowflakes for the first time in winter. The wind picked up a few notches and the snow flurried around the car.
Not a lot of people were out and the few who were looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. If it weren’t for his living situation he would love it all. New York looked peaceful in the snow and it also took away some of the bad smells or loud noises. Everything slowed and got muffled in a way that Peter liked to drink hot chocolate and watch the Harry Potter movies bundled up in Aunt May’s old patch blanket.
Tomorrow, when the winter service has cleared the streets and the big white piles on the side of the road begin to melt and turn brown from the usual New York waste, it will all be gone. So he tried to enjoy the bit of peace he felt looking outside.
But with every lash of wind against the windshield or side windows the anxiety in Peter rose up. The freezing temperatures would only drop lower at night. His plank for a window wouldn’t hold the wind and the few things he had to keep him warm? They didn’t stand a chance against this snowstorm that was brewing together these past few hours.
Peter was lost in his thoughts not noticing the familiar streets they were now driving through, nearing Matt’s apartment building. He came to himself again when the car came to a sudden halt.
“We’re here.”
Opening the car door Peter was hit by an icy-cold wall of air. His limbs started to stiffen up immediately. Shit, when did it get so cold? Frank didn’t seem fond of the weather either and both swiftly climbed the fire escape to enter through the roof access.
He was grateful for the warm tea that was handed to him as soon as he sat down on the leather couch but his fingers felt numb. His whole body felt numb as if he was beaten or fighting for hours straight, when the pain subdued and the soreness overtook.
And he felt like that only after a few minutes in the cold? Like this he wouldn’t last the night.
“You two were what, out and about when I called,” Matt asked them sitting down in the chair across from them, near the windows. He was bundled up in warm clothes as well with that nice socks-over-sweatpants look.
“What, you didn’t sense him? Ya’ lacking Red,” Frank huffed back, sitting down and leaning comfortably back into the couch on the other end. He had gotten a coffee from Matt which was surprising because he did so without any prompting or japs or snarky sidemarks. A miracle really.
“I noticed as soon as you entered Hell’s Kitchen. You trained out of the city again?”
“Yeah, teaching him something useful. Nothing of that mushy shit you show him. But that’s not why we’re here. What’s going on, Red?”
Oh yeah, we didn’t just meet up for some drinks , Peter realized. There was that phone call. Was he even invited for the mission? It’s hard to focus on everything around you when your body is still just so cold. Were the others cold as well or was it his messed up thermoregulation?
“Sorry, wait, did you want my help, too? I just tagged along. If I have to actively listen to anything I need to get warmer first. I’m still, like - freezing .”
“We can wait till the others are here. I invited Clint and Wade over, as well. You can take a shower if you want and get warm until they’re here.” Matt’s tone was more gentle with him than with Frank, which wasn’t hard to be honest but Peter still felt cared for. It was nice.
“Cool, thanks! I’ll take some of your clothes, too.” Peter slowly got up and walked over to the bathroom. It was sluggish and his joins ached. “Oof, is this how you feel when you get old? I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, shit.” That got him a pillow thrown at his head which he easily dodged. Before he closed the door he shouted into the living room, “Please, don’t kill each other!”
The hot water took the numbness away and it was nice to feel clean again. Peter always took the opportunity to wash himself whenever he was at Matt or Wade’s place. Otherwise he just washed himself in the bathroom of the library or the Méndez’ to freshen himself up a bit. He could have stood hours under the stream of water but he heard Clint come in some minutes ago and Wade was only a roof away so he dried himself and took some of Matt’s clothes which were unbelievingly soft and put his mask on again before joining the others.
He was greeted by a ‘Hey, Spidey’ from the archer and almost being tackled down to the floor by Deadpool who wrapped him in his arms and said, teeth shattering overdramatically, “Oooh, Baby-boi, I’m gonna use you as a heating pad. It’s so cold, I feel like your little bald headed duplicate in his ice-berg.”
Peter could only retort a squished, “Hey, DP.”
“Come on, let’s get this over with. I wanna be done before we get snowed in,” Frank gruffed.
Matt was still sitting in his armchair by the windows. Clint occupied the other chair, one of Matt’s ice packs balanced on his right ankle and a pack of frozen peas laying against his shoulder. Knowing the archer he probably didn’t even hurt himself fighting someone but simply slipped on some ice and fell down a stairway.
He took his place on the couch near the windows again. Well, he walked there with Wade still awkwardly hugging him and waddling after. Frank scooted over even further as the other man almost landed on his lap while settling in. There was beer waiting on the coffee table and Peter took one for himself and one for Wade who still clung to his side.
“I guess it’s a big fish,” Peter voiced.
“Like a Dolphin.”
Matt ignored Wade and answered Peter who looked outraged by the comment, “In the past weeks we all had some weird encounters with people. Clint, you told us about the bank robbers. Spidey, you said something about those burning people. I noticed something similarly weird on patrol a few days ago in a brothel. They laundered money in the back and I went to break them up but when I tried to fight them they told the women to use themselves as shields and- they just did. They sounded so normal but acted like zombies.”
“I think there is a drug or something like that in circulation, making them willing to follow and comply with orders, manipulative somehow. I’m guessing really because I haven’t found anything specific yet. The man from the brothel got away because I couldn’t get through the women without hurting them. It wore off in the hospital where they were given fluids so I’m not sure how long it would normally last. Apparently it left no trace.”
“Do you have a sample? I could give it to Stark and Banner, see what they can figure out,” Clint asked.
“No I don’t. I don’t even know the name or who deals with it. I couldn’t figure out the scent yet, either.” Matt rubbed a hand through his hair and with a sigh continued, “If it’s a drug even, though that’s the most logical assumption. Have you heard anything about it at all,” he asked them.
Wade budded in, “I think I heard something about a drug but I just thought it was boring old heroin or meth or something like that. From what I heard the Russians are involved somehow and that they are constantly moving nowadays. I just thought they got paranoid. I’ll check in with them.”
“I think I stumbled upon one of their labs some time ago.” Peter remembered the night only hazily. He had been tired and just told the police about it. “I informed the police about it when I found it. It was abandoned. The smell was weird but it looked like a drug lab. I can go back there to check it out again and ask Aaron if he heard something. And I heard some Russians talking as well but didn’t think it was too important. I did a rough check at the east docks that they had mentioned but let it go after I haven’t found anything.”
“Let’s keep each other updated on this. This has the potential to be really dangerous. I also promised Foggy not to tackle that kind of stuff alone anymore. That’s why you’re here. We barely know anything, yet. Ask around a little but be careful, we don’t want them noticing us after them,” Matt concluded.
“Great now that that’s done-”, Matt took his own beer from the table and continued, “why don’t we talk about you-” Pointing with the bottlehead at Frank and then to Peter. “showing him how to shoot. I thought you didn't kill people?”
“Wait wait wait, Spidey-baby is learning how to shoot without me?” Wade sounded outraged and gasped a few times before he spluttered, “The betrayal !”
He heard a chuckle and sarcastic, ‘What? Did you smell us? Weird, Red,’ from the other side of the couch from Frank but Peter commented over that, “Frank is showing me different guns and how to disarm people who point them at me. Oh and how I handle them safely because just breaking them can be dangerous, too, apparently”
“And you shoot them, because it’s useful,” the ex-marine added. “How are you supposed to know how they will use them against you if you don’t know how they work? It’s good practice and we spar so he isn’t dependent on the things you show him.”
Wade still wasn’t over his offense but Peter could see the excitement he tried to hold back. Similar to the enthusiasm with which Clint asked, “Do you want to learn how to shoot with a bow and arrow, too? I also have some energy and alien-tech at the tower. We can also practice with that.”
“Yeah, sounds great!” Peter was gleeful with the idea of testing high tech stuff. Maybe he could dismantle some and see how they worked. That would be great. He took a swig of his beer grinning at them.
His attention shifted to Matt as he mumbled his annoyance, ‘This is so not how I wanted this to go,’ at the gun enthusiasm and voiced his annoyance at Frank, because it was always Frank’s fault. These two had a way with each other like raccoons fighting over a piece of pizza from the trash.
The group fell into a calm conversation from which Peter drifted off of to the window and thick snow flakes that just wouldn't stop falling. Maybe he could go to a homeless shelter but they were probably full or they would call CPS. So that was a no. Maybe he could borrow a sleeping bag from one of them? But that was weird, why would he just ask for a sleeping bag? He knew that tonight he couldn’t just sleep in his warehouse or one of his emergency places because they were just easily too cold without a heater. He couldn’t risk it and just die there alone.
His quietness didn’t go unnoticed and one by one the others noticed his fixation on the storm outside. The mask was only up till the bridge of his nose like usual so the frown and his too pale skin was exposed. The room went quiet, looking but Peter didn’t seem to notice.
“You good there Spidey,” Clint asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
That broke him out of his trance. His head spun around so quickly it almost gave him whiplash. “Hm, what?”
Wade cut in instead of letting Clint ask again, “You good? You look like Zuko trying to figure out if Azula is going to betray him yet again or if she is cool this time.”
“Eh- yeah, yeah, I’m perfectly fine.”
Clint, like the spy he is, responded amazed by how bad of a reaction that was, “Wow, we really need to practice your lying.”
“I can lie perfectly fine. I’m a great liar!” And now the whole room was laughing at him, great. Even Frank. Traitor , Peter thought. If they’d only known.
“Well, it was still a lie. What’s going on?” Matt’s fingers fiddled with the bottle’s tag in his nervous way when he got concerned about something.
“It’s just-” How could he put it without revealing anything? “Let’s say my current place is a shithole and the weather concerns me a bit.”
“Why should it concern you,” Frank asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, maybe even a bit concerned as well. Peter knew how it sounded but he had already begun to dig his hole. It would only get worse from there.
“I just- I don’t really have heating at the moment and I can’t cope with coldness as well since the spider-bite. I’m just trying to think what to do.”
“What do you mean you have no heating?” Matt asked, alarmed. As alarmed as everybody else in the room seemed now.
Ok, Peter. You revealed too much. Great job!
Peter tried to sound nonchalant to diffuse the tension which the room now held. “I don’t have heating. I had this space-heater-thing last year but it broke and I can’t repair it and the building doesn’t have working heating either.”
“Shit Spidey, in what kinda place are you living in?” One of Wade’s hands found Peter’s shoulder in shock. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lean into it or shake it off.
“It’s not too bad. I’m just glad I found this place. Money was never not difficult. I told y’all I’m broke,” he laughed humorlessly, which wasn’t reciprocated by anyone.
“No heating sounds pretty bad,” Clint tried to reason. “Has this something to do with your thermo-stuff?”
Peter sighed. He didn’t think that they would try to dig so deep when they began that conversation. “My thermoregulation is different from yours. I haven’t had the possibility to test my blood yet but I suspect that it’s more like a mix between human and spider and they go into a stage of hibernation if too cold.”
“Well maybe you shouldn’t go out the next few days then. I heard that that’s a blizzard out there,” responded Matt, still sounding concerned.
“A blizzard? This early? But it is- already this year?” The rest of color drained from Peter’s face which the others couldn’t see but they could hear the slight tremor in his voice. A day he could maybe go by if he borrowed a blanket or sleeping back but more. Shit, this gets worse and worse. He groaned into his hands, head resting on his pulled up knees.
Shit- Fuck- Arghh, why?
He let his eyes sweep over them shortly before finding the window again. Parker-Luck, that’s what this is.
God, they must be thinking he is incompetent or something, not being able to afford a place with heating. Losing the being-an-adult-game or something like that.
Wade told him to ask for help- made him promise even…
Peter took all his courage and buried his pride for the moment and asked, “Can I stay with one of you the next few days? I wouldn’t ask if it weren't really necessary. It’s ok if not. I can definitely find something else. I just- if this is a blizzard I know I won’t make it at my- Or let’s say I don’t wanna risk freezing to dea- eh, it would be nice, if it’s not possible, totally cool.” He rambled through his panic. His heartbeat was way too fast and they were all staring at him as if he-
“No worries. You can stay in one of my safe houses under one condition.” Wade interrupted his thoughts.
“What really? Thank you so much!” He threw himself at the man beside him, hugging tightly and mumbled into his side, “You really don’t have to do that and if you change your mind just tell and I’ll leave. Oh, and in what condition?”
“Calm down snugglebug. Under the condition that you finish watching Avatar with me! A marathon to be specific.”
Clint leaned forward, the peas falling to his lab. “You know you can stay at the tower, too. It’s probably a bit more hygienic.” He stage whispered to which Wade replied by throwing his hello kitty taser at Clint. He snatched it from the air and put it away with a small “ Thanks .”
“Oh thank you but I think I will take Wade up on the offer. I don’t want to wear my mask day and night. A night is like, fine, but all the time? At Wade’s I can take it off when he is gone.”
“Yeah I get that. And the team would be so annoying with you, trying to ask about it all the time,” he laughed.
Thank God, Peter had friends like them. His panic dissolved just as fast as it appeared and as he looked out the window now, the snow didn’t seem to bother him anymore. He gulped some of his beer down and looked at Matt as spoke to him again, “You know, you can talk to us about personal issues or let me look into your landlord. It’s illegal to not provide heat if you can pay. If there is anyway we can help-”
Peter interrupted him midway, “No, no. It’s ok. Money just get’s short at times. I'm kinda smart and good at figuring out problems. I’ll manage to deal with this on my own. I’m doing ok. Don't worry.”
He saw Matt’s face scrunch up, concerned again, probably heard the lie he told in his heartbeat and Peter continued fast to avoid any more questions, “Did I tell you about the pug I saw a few days ago? He had like no nose and he barked at a rat which then moved his head up and down as if they were having a conversation. It looked super funny.”
He got a few grunts and a, ‘Another dog-story,’ in return. Peter just laughed, thankful that they let the topic drop and indulged him, and continued, “Well, I have another one. This time not a dog, but a pigeon story. You know I like them normally, we sit together on roofs, there are my buddies, but that thing was definitely possessed. First it stared at me, then it followed me and mid-swing it-”
Loud laughter interrupted him and Wade gasped around his laughs, “Are you talking about the one that flew into your face which made you smack straight into that billboard?”
“What?” Peter looked at the man horrified.
“Yeah, we know about that one buddy-” Clint said, drying some tears that had gathered in the corner of his eyes from laughing too hard. “Someone filmed you. It’s trending, like, everywhere.”
Even Frank seemed interested now, smirk playing on his lips, turned to Wade and ordered, “Show me.”
He swiftly pulled his phone out and Peter leaned half over Wade to watch it, too. And just like they said, the video showed him swinging through Times Square (doing some cool flips because he knew the tourists were always filming shit around there) and that damn pigeon flying right into him, startling him so much that he slapped into a billboard promoting some musical. He barely caught himself, fell down a good few feet before managing to stick himself to it.
Frank was laughing loudly now, too. “Shit, squirt. That was hilarious!”
“I tell you, that pigeon was possessed,” he tried to defend himself weakly resulting in them laughing at him some more.
“Was it ok? You really got it.”
“ It flew into me! ”
“Oh, let me show you the compilations. There are so many videos of our little bug smashing into things.” Wade told Frank amused. Peter groaned loudly and threw himself back into the couch defeated.
“I hate this” he exclaimed, muffled through the pillow he pressed over his face.
They ended their little get together soon after. No one wanted to get snowed in together at Matt’s place. For one there wasn’t enough food or places to sleep and for the other, they would probably be at each other's throat if they had to spend too much time together in such a small space. Especially Matt and Frank.
Actually, only Matt and Frank. The rest of them would love a sleepover.
Wade showed him to the safe house. There wasn’t much inside besides the basics. A retractable bloodstained couch, a small kitchen stocked with conserved food, a bathroom with medical supplies and a TV. As soon as they got inside Wade turned the heater up and told him to make himself comfortable. He could stay at this place for a few weeks without problems. Before Wade left he said that he’s gonna come by tomorrow and bring some stuff around and to watch Avatar.
Peter thanked him profoundly again to which Wade took him into his arms and said, “Everything for my little cutie-pie,” and, “Thanks for asking,” a little quieter, gentler.
It was good, he got a place to stay, he could get his stuff some other day and he would be fine. It has been long since everything seemed to work out for him. Peter slept well that night, listening to the storm outside without a worried bone in his body.
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Notes:
Hey, hey,
long time no see.
Sorry for the long wait. I had to re write most of the chapter because I was really unhappy with my first draft and had some writers block for some of the re write. But Whatever- it's done now and I think it's presentable.
My roomie has once again been a wonderful beta reader and she told me to share something with you that happened while she worked through the chapter.roomie: *commenting out loud about some of the emotional stuff I wrote*
me: "I want to make someone cry. So bad!" *while lying in bed and cackling manically*I love all the comments you leave. I will try to answer to them more in the future. I read and cherish them and show them to my roomie. Because of the comments and the great stuff you wrote I felt the need to finish this chapter faster than I probably would have otherwise. They motivate me and give me life. So, thank you <3
I will also work on the next chapter faster and post it a lot sooner than I did this one. I promise!(btw this is a long ass chapter, like 10000 words. Just so you know. Sorry :p)
Now have fun reading, I hope I did will and met your expections!
xoxo
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His ribs and shoulder ached.
Earlier that evening, when he had been out and about with Wade and Matt on patrol, he had been thrown into a wall and beaten up pretty harshly. Normally he was more coordinated and the usual thugs wouldn’t have been able to overcome him like that but there had suddenly been an alarm blaring and then dogs barking in the houses around them and sirens appeared down the block. He had been distracted, overwhelmed by all the noise stimuli and they had gotten the upper hand.
Double-D and DP hadn’t let that slide, beat the people to a pulp after noticing his predicament. All playfulness from before gone and pure rage at work.
In some fucked up sense it had been kind of sweet.
Anyway, now his ribs and his right shoulder hurt. Nothing broken, just some small fractures in the ribs, a strained muscle and a bunch of bruises.
Both of his teammates had sent him home after the rundown, told him to chill everything and take it easy for the rest of the evening.
The last week has been kind of amazing, living in Wade’s safe house/apartment. He had been eating a lot more than before and the food was much more nutritious which started to show as he started to gain some weight back. He definitely felt healthier and his enhancements would probably improve back to an even better level than they were currently at if he could continue like this.
The wounds probably still needed a day to heal at the very least.
So when he came home he heated up some canned ravioli, ate the cold pizza leftovers from yesterday evening with Wade and made himself a PB&J as a second after-patrol-dinner. Afterwards he made himself comfortable on the couch with a bag of frozen peas on his shoulder and a bag of berries on his rips, bundled in a blanket and watching Disney’s American Dragon until he began to nod off.
“Who are you?”
Peter jumped from the couch.
No.
Shit-
Please, not like this- Not after everything seemed to work out his way for once. Why didn’t he hear him coming? Has he really been that exhausted?
In front of him stood Wade, fully suited and with a tension in his shoulders Peter knew all too well from patrol.
Why did he come back? Why didn’t he go home after he finished his rounds with Matt? Why didn’t he go drink himself to death at Sister Margrets?
Shit!
Cold sweat made his way down Peter’s back and in his ears a faint ringing began to overtake all other noises.
“I’ll ask one more time. Who are you? How did you get in here?” Wade’s voice was cold and Peter knew that he technically wouldn’t face any physical harm, he was a minor, looked like one, too, and Deadpool would never hurt a child. But Peter was still scared shitless. Could he talk, would he recognize his voice?
Blind panic built up in his small body. Fight, flight or freeze at its rawest. If he fought his way out Wade would either know or suspect something and the man has seen his face so even if he’d make it out Deadpool would try to find him. So staying was his only option. What now?
Freeze, which was just stupid and inconvenient.
Peter tried to breathe but they fell short in his clogged up throat.
Shit, now he was also starting to hyperventilate. The noises around him began to jumble further into the ringing, slowly rising in pitch, borderline painful in his ears. He couldn’t see Wade anymore as his vision blacked out around the corners.
Was this really happening?
“I- I- “ Air. ‘Peter you need air’ the logical part of his brain screamed at him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried to remember Matt’s voice from the last time he felt like this. ‘In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4’ ‘In 2,- ‘In- Fuck, ‘In 2, 3, -
Why wasn’t this working?
“Hey, hey, you can calm down a bit. I won’t hurt you, but you need to explain who you are.”
‘In 2, 3, - ‘In 2, - out-
“Hey, hey, small boy, how about you tell me five things you see.”
‘In 2, 3,-
If he talked Wade could hear his voice. No, he couldn’t let Wade hear his voice. He would know immediately. Just concentrate. ‘In 2, 3 - ‘In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4’
Yes , again. ‘In 2, 3, 4 - out, 2, 3, 4’
“Ok you seem like you’re doing your own thing which is great. I have no idea how to deal with panic attacks and just asked the thing from, like every panic attack-fanfic in existence. It’s probably something real people outside of comic books and shows do as well, like therapy-going-people. But I wouldn’t know what that's like.”
Wade continued to talk which was great as the constant chatter distracted Peter from his own racing heart. He took the moment while calming down, still counting in his head, to assess his situation a bit better as well.
He was standing there in Wade’s clothes, cuffs rolled up, cold-sweat soaked and all. His face was on full display and he knew Wade could remember and recreate it to find it through data banks or security footage if he made a runner.
Even if he did a runner, he was barefeet and all his important things were still here in the apartment which he wouldn’t be able to come back to.
American Dragon was still playing in the background.
It was a great TV-choice and Peter knew DP thought so, too.
After a few more deep breaths Wade seemed to notice that Peter calmed down enough to talk again. “Are you good?”
Silently nodding he sank back into the couch, legs feeling like jelly. His hands trembled where he pressed them between his thighs.
“Ok, so tell me who you are and how you got inside.”
Peter stayed silent, frown creasing deeper between his eyebrows.
“Well, you can tell me and we figure this out or I’ll get my buddy run facial recognition and deal with it a little differently.” Wade was using his ‘speaking with children’ voice which was still super scary from his current point of view.
Peter didn’t know what to do. His heart was beating too fast as the options spun in his mind. If he talked he would probably get recognized by Wade. There was also the slim chance he wouldn’t recognize it but he’d still try and figure out who he was. There is no doubt that Wade would attempt to help him, get him back to CPS that is, because what other option is there really? Maybe if he told him about his situation and that he ran away he would do something else. But what?
If he stayed quiet he would definitely find out about his family and foster care. It would end similarly.
Wade was his friend, one of the people he was absolutely closest to in the world. If he talked and told him who he was, everything would change.
But lying to him? Lying again? No matter if this isn’t the way Peter wanted him to find out. He guessed that it would’ve happened someday anyway.
Today was that day. It wouldn’t feel right to lie to Wade even more after everything he did for him already.
“I-” His voice choked off and something inside his chest tightened as he realized that he was really going to do this. God, he could practically gag from all the panic squeezing his chest tight. Peter fisted his hands into his hair.
“Yeeeeaah?”
“I- I’m sorry.”
What was he apologizing for? Him being a minor or lying to his friends about it? Peter didn’t know.
“Hmm, I know that voice from somewhere.” Wade exaggeratingly tapped his chin with his finger. “Talk a bit more, I’ll remember. Do we know each other from somewhere? Ugh- please not. I can’t think of any appropriate setting for me to know a little child like you.”
“Yeah.” The small crack made Peter’s voice sound pathetic.
How the fuck does he always end up in these fucked up situations?
“We do know each other.”
Wade froze and stayed quiet which wasn’t a good sign ever. Just tilted his head oh so slightly to the side. His masked face was expressionless from Peter’s position, but he knew the man. He could see the calculating pierce of his eyes and every little detail of confused and worried creases deepen between his eyebrows.
Peter looked up, directly at Wade when he said, “I’m sorry.” His vision blurred with tears. The knot in his throat was closing and breathing became harder again.
Wade took a step backwards. “No, no, no. No, you aren’t.” He said it like a fact he didn’t want to be true.
Peter hugged himself around his stomach and tried to to take deep breaths which fell short again, shuddered with the tears that were now streaming down his face.
“Baby-boy?”
That made the dam break completely as Peter was wrecked by a deep sob. He curled up on the couch, hugging himself around his legs. The repeated ‘I’m sorry’s fell short between desperate breaths.
Why now? Why did I even tell him? Will he kick me out? Why would he want to be friends with a teenager? He will leave like everyone else. Why did I speak? That was so stupid. Now he will tell the others and they’ll leave, too. They're gonna try and stop me from being Spider-Man. What if they tell-
His running thoughts were interrupted by arms wrapping around him, holding him, squeezing so tight it would probably hurt everyone but him. Peter nuzzled more into Wade and buried his face in the larger man’s chest still repeating ‘ I’m sorry’ over and over again.
“Shhh- shhh, Spidey, it’s ok. Just try to breathe, ok?” His arms were tight around him, strong and grounding.
“I’m so sorry, Wade,” he heaved between sobs and pulled away from him. The man tugged his mask off with one hand. It came back to the other, to Peter’s shoulders, holding onto him. A little tight from the shock or maybe even fear that Peter would run if Wade didn’t hold him there.
“What the fuck,” Wade breathed out and it startled a wet laugh out of Peter.
“What the fuck,” he echoed.
There were so many emotions flitting across the man’s face, he couldn’t keep up with them. Peter rubbed his sleeved hand over his face to get some of the tears and snot away and take a better look at his friend.
If he was still his friend.
Wade mumbled, “Disgusting,” and Peter laughed again, half manic.
“Wade- I-” He scrunched his face up, trying not to let even more tears fall. God, he didn’t know what to say or do.
Wade shook him by his shoulders, saying once again, “What the fuck.” Which must have broken some dam because he continued, “What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck! How are you Spider-Man? My Spidey? How- How old are you? Where do you live? Why have you not told us? Oh God, Matt is going to have an aneurysm. And Frank- Fuck! Frank will- I’m not even sure who he is going to kill but it will be a fucking blood bath. Clint will age about 20 years on the spot and I’m not sure he has that many left with his lifestyle. You- you are Spider-Man. You are a child. Spider-Man is a child . You know what? I might be having an aneurysm as well.”
He wiped his face off with his sleeves again. What was there to say? There was a lot to say but Peter wasn’t sure if he could.
“Still disgusting.”
Peter snorted and let his head drop forward, his forehead bumped against Wade’s chest. The arms engulfed him again and began rubbing circles on his back.
“My name is Peter,” he rasped out quietly.
“Peter.” Wade’s voice was so warm and soft, so full of wonder, Peter almost began to cry again.
“I’m so sorry.”
“None of that. We’ll just have a hell lot to talk about.”
That’s the inevitable he dreaded. He knew he would want to include Matt and Frank. Probably Clint, as well. He hadn’t even wanted Wade to know. How was he supposed to deal with the judgment from three other adults who probably wanted him to stop being a vigilante? They would ask about his parents or where or who he lived with when he wasn’t crashing at Wade’s.
“I won’t stop being Spider-Man.” Yeah, that was definitely the best topic out of all to talk about.
“Ok, ok. Let’s take a step back for a second, ok?” Wade pulled out of the hug again, hands coming back to rest on Peter’s shoulders. “I think there are a bunch of other questions I have to ask that are waaaay more important than your vigilante act. Like, how old are you? Or where your parents are? Or guardians if you have any? Or where you lived before coming here or what the fuck I am supposed to tell the others?”
“You don’t need to tell anyone.”
“Petey-Pie, you can’t be serious.”
“No, why- why should you? There is no reason to,” he pleaded a bit desperately.
“You look like you haven’t even been through puberty yet. I need to tell someone, likely Matty who knows how to deal with adult shit better than anyone else besides Franky-boy who is a very illegal person and probably shouldn’t deal with adult shit. Because from where I’m sitting you’re probably homeless, probably underage and not old enough to work yet, you don’t go to school and you are alone outside of your mask.”
“ You know now,” he tried weakly, vision blurring.
“Peter-” Wade was serious, his face, his tone. Peter knew Spider-Man was important to DP and that he was doing this because of that fact. He was important to Wade. But- God, why couldn’t he just care a little less?
“Peter, I don’t know how to do this, find a solution that is best and healthiest for you in the long run. You are running around starving and without- Without anywhere to go home to. You need help. Let me help you by letting the others help.”
And Peter knew it made sense. If he were in Wade’s shoes he’d probably do the same.
But it sucked. It sucked shit balls.
He wasn’t ready to lose them yet.
He wasn’t ready- willing to go back into the system.
Panic seized him again. “I- I won’t go back to CPS. I will fight you and- and everyone else and run away. I won’t-”
“Shh- ok. No problem. I promise you, I am promising you right now, you will not go back to CPS. Whatever solution we find, it won’t be that one. And I’ll be right there with you fighting them all if they try to. They won’t stand a chance against us both. I’ll protect you. You and me. We’ll figure this out.”
Peter pressed his palms to his eyes hard.
Wade hugged him again, a hand on his back, the other at the back of his head holding him to his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. You’re not alone.”
In that moment he trusted Wade more than he ever had before. Because he knew now and he was still there, holding him. Holding him together when every piece of him, every little splitter that had broken and stacked up precariously over the past years threatened to fall apart.
And Wade stood to his word when it came to Spidey. So maybe- maybe-
“Sleep,” Wade murmured into the top of his head. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Sleep now.”
What the fuck!
The shout inside his head played on repeat since the pieces clicked together and he realized who was sitting in front of him.
What the fuck what the fuck whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck.
A child. Spidey was a child. A tiny- quite frankly adorable- little teenaged child.
Wade didn’t even know how young of a child yet. Probably between 13 and 17? No- that boy was not a day older than 16.
He gently guided the teenager down to lay on the couch after his breaths had evened out against Wade’s shoulder. He then tugged him in with a blanket (like a mum), turned the TV off and put the bags of half frozen food away again for later ice-pack use. As silently but still heavily as he could, he fell back into a chair and just watched.
This teenager was a superhero, a vigilante. This child could bench press a truck and got shot at regularly.
This child had been beaten up just hours ago.
God, he wanted to go back and fucking kill the people that had dared to lay hands on him.
Wade tugged a burrito out of the disregarded bag on the floor- the whole reason he had come back that night. To make sure his little buddy was fine and feed him a bit more. He had seemed overwhelmed earlier and Wade thought-
If he hadn’t come would he have never found out? Or how much later?
Fuck.
The burrito was cold when he bit into it but it was still fine enough. A good burrito will hold up cold as well. He needed it now. And maybe also a bottle or ten of something strong. Maybe also a bullet to the head.
But that had to wait. He needed to stay and make sure the little shit wouldn’t make a runner which was all still in the realm of possibilities.
Peter.
PeterPeterPeterPeterpeterpeterpeterpeterpeter.
This didn’t feel real.
Could this be fake? Maybe that was/is a post suicide/death hallucination?
Nah- the burrito wouldn’t taste this nice if it were. This wouldn’t feel as devastating as it is exciting, hysterical, impossible-
Fishing out his phone he sent three texts, to Matt, Frank and Clint that all read:
11:00 am, 329 E 12th St, no gear/suits
You better be there. This is shit on another level of shit. Shit² level 10-boss endgame level shit and we’ll need to discuss it. So whatever you might have had planned tomorrow, you don’t anymore.
He put the phone away, knowing they would read and take it to heart without questioning it. A bit better grammar and tense tone would put them on high alert. And sure this might not be the end of the world but this was something so serious, even he knew it would be hell to deal with.
Maybe this is the end of the world.
How the fuck did Wade not realize that Spidey was a child? It’s not like he was stupid. Wade knew that he wasn’t stupid. He dealt with stupid ass people everyday and he wasn’t one of them. But it sure felt like he was right now.
Looking back at it it makes sense. Somewhat-
The dodgy answers, the secretiveness, that one time when Clint mentioned crime around some specific city block in Queens and Spidey had closed off, acted paranoid all evening around them, left with some excuse about his senses acting up.
Peter- Wow, it was weird to have a real-person name to refer to Spidey.
Peter hadn’t denied any of the assumptions Wade had made earlier. So that meant he really was homeless.
He was homeless and only asked for help because he thought he would die in that snowstorm which had been holding New York in a chokehold this past week if he didn’t.
Ok, whatever- that was shit but now that Wade knew he would make sure it would never happen again. Right, solutions-
He might be old enough that he could be emancipated, then the whole thing would be fairly easy to solve. They could get him an apartment and find him a school to finish highschool and- that’s it probably.
Now, if he wasn’t sixteen yet that might complicate things. A new identity which ages him up a bit would solve that problem and they could just continue from there on out like they did with the first option. But it might be morally questionable to leave a 14(?) year old on his own devices.
It was possible. Wade had mostly done his own thing at that point and age. Clint also had a shit childhood and they turned out- yeah, ok yellow was already yelling in his head and he gets it, ok? They’d probably just fuck him up more like that and he’d possibly turn out worse than them now.
So Peter needed a guardian.
Ha!
Fuck- ok.
A guardian that would need to know about Spider-Man, would let him still go out as a vigilante (because let’s be honest here, they won’t be able to stop that from happening) and not sell him out to some government-military-experimental shit show. That person also needed to be approved by the foster-people or whatever channels. Family court or shit like that.
Maybe they could convince him to stop and hide his enhancements, then they could find him an actual loving family. A family that he could grow to love and that loved him and helped him understand what it meant to be a child and let responsibility rest with others. He would understand then that he shouldn’t hang out with such fuck ups as he did now. With a bunch of emotionally unstable, violent adult men.
He could move on from them.
And that was good because none of them were a really good influence on children. Wade could admit that.
Looking at Pete’s sleeping form his heart ached. He didn’t want it to come that far, to lose his best friend but if it did he’d step back.
Maybe the others knew what to do. Wade hoped they did because sitting there, just watching and watching and not knowing what to do or where to even begin. All he actually wanted to do was to watch American Dragon with the little guy and stuff them both to the brink with pancakes.
Which actually sounded like a fantastic idea as morning came sooner than expected and around half past eight Wade started to put some breakfast together. They’d find a solution later with the others.
The little bug stirred not soon after that and sat up a bit blarily. Wade chatted for the both of them, talked about everything and nothing he could think of. The rest of last night's patrol with Matty, how dope American's Dragon was and about the simply incredible secret enemies-to-lovers plot in said show. While doing so he observed Peter, how he noticed his missing mask and remembered last night's events. He shuffled for a bit in his seat, unsure in himself, shoulders hunched in more than he was used to even for Spidey’s bad days and hands clasped between his thighs. With a short comment he fled to the bathroom.
Obviously, the whole thing was super stressful not just for himself but for Petey-potato as well.
Petey-potato is a good one.
Petey-pie, Peter-Man, Peter-Pan, itsy-bitsy-Petesy, perilous-Peter, precious-Pete, Petey-Poopy, Poopy-
He snorted to himself. He’ll come up with better ones later.
The shower started to run while Wade poured more pancake batter into the pan.
After a quick look into the fridge he also pulled out a bunch of fruits and began to cut them for a salad. The plan was to go grocery shopping again today so his little friend wouldn’t run out but now he might not need to. He’ll probably stay with Matt or relocate to another more suitable safehouse.
Freshly showered, clothed in a different pair of Wade’s sweats, Peter came back into the room, stopping somewhere halfway across to him. Some unidentifiable, badly and not quite washed-out bloodstain grazed his right pant leg.
“Coffee? I made a bunch of pancakes so how about you get some plates and some of the stuff over to the couch table and I’ll bring this batch as soon as it’s done. Did you know that I prepared hundreds and hundreds of pancakes for the A-Team one time? And the ungrateful bunch just shoved me out the tower and got all mad. Can you believe it? And all the work I had put into for nothing. At least the big green guy appreciated the gesture and stuffed himself with them.”
There was only silence in return but Wade ignored it for the moment and just kept going instead.
Only when he settled beside Pete on the couch, more distance between them than usual and he was still hunching in on himself, did Peter quietly speak up, “Hey Wade?”
“Yup?” He shoved a forkful of perfectly buttery, syrupy pancakes in his mouth.
“Do we really have to include anyone else? Can’t we- can’t we just-”
“No can do, Petey-pie. You know I need help with this. At least our people should now. They’ll know how to help.”
The tears in the teenagers eyes gathered again and he began to wipe them away angrily, frustrated.
Peter bit out, voice wavering around the edges, “No, you don’t need to do that. It's a choice. A shitty one.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Can’t we just forget this ever happened?”
“You know I can’t.”
He pressed his palms to his face again and breathed deeply and controlled a few times.
Wade tugged him into his side into a half hug, resting his chin on top of Peter’s head (Into curly, curly hair). Whispering, he asked, “What got you so scared?” Because sometimes all the scary stuff is a little more approachable when it’s whispered.
Or screamed but that was for another time.
“I just-” The words seem to clot in his throat. Wade rubbed a hand up and down his arm until he admitted so quietly, Wade almost missed it, “I don’t want anyone to leave again.”
And aaah fuck, if that didn’t just break his heart into about a million pieces.
He knew what it meant to be alone, to feel so lonely in the world you didn’t want to be in it anymore. That his best friend felt even an ounce of that was too much already.
“Peter, I know this is super crazy, like yellow and white are still flipping out crazy crazy and I’m not the one to answer any questions responsibly or make decisions about what to do but I can promise you that I will not just leave. You’re still my little snuggle-bug aren’t you,” he asked softly.
Maybe it was enough for the moment or maybe not but either way the teen under his arm breathed out a soft, “Thank you, Wade.”
He squeezed the arm around him one more time before letting go and gesturing towards the feast of a breakfast with a, “You better tug in, you scrawny breadstick. And next time you question my loyalty as your bestest of best friends again or believe I’m going to leave ,” he spat the word, because honestly, it was just offending. “- I’m going to tell everyone about that time you didn’t want to fight that criminal because you thought he was pregnant.”
They watched American Dragon over breakfast.
And they continued after finishing eating and washing up where he blabbered about random shit, pretending nothing happened. No big reveal that had him questioning how the fuck he could miss shit as enormous as this. They both pretended for some sense of normality until everything would undoubtedly change.
Quarter to 11 a.m. Wade gave Peter his mask and told him to wear it when the others would come. That it was easiest that way. They would wing the explanation and ‘reveal’ because they hadn’t really talked about that at all.
Which he was thankful for, don’t get him wrong. He had no idea how he was supposed to talk at all.
It was actually more convincing how serious Wade was with all this rather than what he was saying. It wasn’t everyday, hell did Peter actually witness him being like this before?
Peter nodded. He understood. He was a child, a teenager but still, a child. Wade had his agenda and he protected children. Peter was their friend, their colleague in a fucked up way but also a child. They had seen him go out at any time of day or night, had seen him get hurt in so many different ways it was difficult to recall, they had stitched him up and he stayed countless nights at their places after fights or hangouts, sleeping on the couch and not going ‘home’ and he was still a fucking child.
There were so many questions which he could prepare to answer. He knew what they would ask him about.
But every time he tried to put the thoughts into a coherent form the words jumbled up in his head and left him in a dark deep void. He wasn’t feeling numb per se. The anxiety which didn’t stop buzzing in his skin, which itched almost painfully but didn’t stop when he tried to scratch it away, that feeling was filling up the void. He felt like drowning in it, floating away. His mind with it. It didn’t make sense but whatever happened right now didn’t make sense either.
Peter stared into his lap, at his trembling hands and clenched them between his thighs.
He could only wait until the others would come. Wade had arranged for that sometime last night when he had practically passed out against the man.
Would they abandon him like the Patterson’s did? Wade said he wouldn’t do that but he could be lying. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone Peter trusted lied to him. And Peter had been too trusting all his life anyway. Maybe now it would finally sink in when they abandoned him as well. Even May and Ben lied when they said that they wouldn’t ever leave him.
In the end they all leave one way or the other.
What if they wanted to help him? Maybe find him somewhere to stay? Matt was a lawyer, he probably knew what to do. But on the other hand, what if they did bring him back to CPS or the police? He ran one time already and he could do it again. He knew how to survive on the street. He however didn’t know how to run from trained vigilante’s, one a spy, one with enhanced senses and one who regularly hunted people down.
Even if he left the city, they would probably find him at some point and he didn’t want to leave New York. It didn’t matter how fucked up this city was, it was the only thing that would always connect him to his parents or his aunt and uncle. New York was home.
And Wade promised he’d protect him from being put back into the system even if the others tried to.
His Parker-Luck was back at it again with another hopeless situation for Peter to maneuver himself out of. One where he would end up being alone again. It was just all so tiring. Peter wasn’t numb or bursting with anxiety, no, he was tired.
The pressure of a hand on his shoulder jolted him back into the present, where he had to speak to Wade and his maybe-probably-soon-not-friends were coming.
“Hey,” Wade’s was softer than he ever heard. Peter would have appreciated the sentiment if he hadn’t felt so pitied by it. “Clint just texted me and said they are two minutes out.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet, feeling as if he tried to fix a breaking dam with duct tape, a losing battle against the tears which threatened to spill the second he did anything other than just sit there.
And it was so stupid that he had to cry. He didn’t even cry when he ran away. Or living in different shitholes all around New York.
But sitting here and knowing that everything could change. That he could lose his people again? Tears were the only thing his body could do right now.
He didn’t notice Clint and Matt coming in and greeting him or how they frowned when he didn’t return it. He didn’t notice how they looked at Wade who just shook his head and gestured for them to sit down.
Matt took the chair, sat on its edge with some kind of nervous anticipation while the archer took place leaning on a dresser by the wall.
“What’s going on? Frank is almost here as well. Should we wait?” Matt’s concern dripped into his voice. He felt uneasy with the unusual behavior and maybe with whatever Wade had already revealed when contacting the men. Clint seemed more confused and waited silently for any answer or explanation.
“I don’t think we need to wait.” Wade was serious. Wade Wilson had no trace of humor, sarcasm or immaturity to him right now which made the tense atmosphere even more keyed up. “Yesterday after patrol I came by to check on Spidey. I didn’t announce myself and he didn’t notice me until I was in the apartment.” Wade paused. He did this carefully for Pete’s sake. “I saw him without his mask.”
The room was silent with anticipation as this was obviously why they needed to come by on such a short notice. Peter’s brain thankfully started to tune in more when Wade started speaking about him. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Should he just take his mask off?
“Do you want to tell them or do you want me to do it?”
Wade gave him a choice how to do this. Clint and Matt would be the first people who he would tell. It isn’t exactly by his own free will but better than nothing?
Peter was really trying his best to make it sound better in his head, didn’t he?
He didn’t know what to answer or if he even could before his voice would betray him so he lifted his hand to the mask, the mask he had put on just minutes ago and felt like a second skin most days. He rested it there for a bit, hand flexing and unflexing in the fabric, before tugging it off in one swift motion.
Clint gasped and Matt seemed obviously confused until Wade clarified for him, “Spidey is a minor.”
At that Clint stood and walked in front of the window, hands fisting his hair. Matt grabbed the arm of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white.
‘This is it, now they’ll get rid of me,’ Peter thought as he stared down at the mask. He scrunched it up in his hands and opened them again. His vision blurred with tears.
“Do you want to tell us your name,” Matt asked, though it was more of a calmly spoken demand than a question. His voice was so God damn soft, too, as if Peter were to break. It made him want to punch Matt.
Peter swallowed hard in an attempt to get his closing throat to cooperate and responded quietly, “Peter. My name is Peter.”
“Nice to meet you Peter.” Matt’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, his muscles tense but his voice was so composed, fake in a misguided attempt to stay calm for Peter’s sake. Something he did when talking to victims they came across and what he probably also did as a lawyer. But he knew the man too well, could see right through the act which is why he hated it so much.
Clint rounded the couch he was sitting on and asked sharply, “How old are you?”
The Avenger on the other hand hid nothing. None of his panic, terror or anger. It must be anger.
‘How old are you?' Just tell them you’re 15. They’ll find out one way or the other. He couldn’t lie. Not with the human lie detector right there. It’s one word, ‘fifteen’. Something so simple shouldn’t be so hard for him.
Was his breathing picking up again? The ringing in his ears definitely got louder.
“Ok, we can talk about that later. Let’s talk about your living situation. Where are your guardians,” the archer continued. The man’s heartbeat was through the roof, like Matt’s. He sounded furious.
His own heart only hitched as they all seemed suddenly so loud, drumming in his ears.
Peter didn’t know what to say or do. How do you tell your friends that you have been alone and homeless for the last year? That he apparently didn’t trust them enough to ask for help. He could feel his hands tremble, but didn’t see where he was clutching onto the mask in his lap, like a lifeline. The world blurred with the tears in his eyes building up again.
Just as Clint was about to ask another question, Frank came through the door, instantly on high alert at the sight in front of him. He had yet to see Peter on the couch facing away from the door he came through. He seemed irritated as the normally so chaotic group was dead silent, the tension so thick you could cut right through it. When he rounded the couch and noticed Peter sitting there he was about to ask something when he spotted the mask between his hands.
“No,” Frank uttered disbelievingly and walked closer to the teenager to get a better look. His eyes darted between the other men for a moment and he must have found all the confirmation that he needed because something gave away in him and he breathed almost softly, “Fuck.”
“I’m so sorry,” Peter’s voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry. I- I-”
The man kneeled in front of him and laid one of his hands on top of Peter’s trembling one’s. The other one came to rest at the back of his neck to lift his head a little so they could see each other eye to eye. Another, “I’m sorry,” broke pathetically in Peter’s throat. Looking directly at Frank who radiated so much it was as overwhelming as everything else, he fell forward into the man’s arms who caught and hugged him tightly.
Sobbs ran through Peter’s body. He didn’t remember when he last felt this tiny.
This next conversation would change his life completely.
They knew now. They knew…
He could only hope for the best or to wake up from this nightmare.
Of course Frank somehow acquired another wayward teenager. Even though he was sure this one doesn’t have a bunch of people after him, trying to kill him like Amy did, this somehow felt worse than last time.
Webs- the teen clung to him, hands fisting his shirt as if he was scared Frank would just disappear if he’d let go. He felt a wet spot growing in his shirt where the kid hid his face in Frank’s shoulder.
He patted his back a bit, hoping he’d calm down a bit because he had some questions needing answering, sooner rather than later. Looking over to the other men he saw them tense and uncomfortable. Red and Barton looked like they were about to vibrate out of their skin, and older- somehow. The mercenary on the other hand, who must have at least known about the situation since last night, itched closer, hands fidgeting like he wanted to take the teen out of Frank’s hands and comfort him himself.
It took Webs a few minutes but eventually his tears dried and breaths slowed to small hiccups. So Frank patted him on the back one last time and pulled back and sat on the couch table behind him, staying directly in front of the teen.
The kid rubbed the mess on his face away with some tissues he got from Wilson. His eyes stayed firmly away from any of them, glued to the floor. Like a child who knew they were about to be scolded or- like he was trying to disappear with how hunched he sat there.
“My name is Peter,” he very quietly introduced himself.
Frank nodded once at that. Peter. Ok.
It’s a common name and could be made up but the way he admitted it Frank didn’t think he did. And Webs knew better than to lie with Red in the room.
“Peter,” he tried sounding it out. It was weird. This teen, kid- this was Webs. Spider-Man.
From behind him the archer asked, “Peter, how old are you?”
The kid’s face scrunched up a bit. They sat in silence for a while which was fine by Frank. After Wilson’s message he had cleared his schedule. He had time if Web- if Peter decided to take the silent route, so be it.
Peter took a few deep breaths and sunk into himself more, as if he were bracing himself and then answered, “Fifteen.”
For fucks sake.
Fifteen- That meant Frank met him when he was fourteen?
God, if he didn’t live the life he lived he would have probably been sick.
He let his head hang a bit, hand coming to the bridge of his nose. Even younger than Amy.
Time to get some of his questions out of the way. “Ok, so you’re an orphan. I know that. Do you have any other family or guardians?”
It might have been a bit blunt but he didn’t really care about that now.
Again, the answer didn’t come immediately. Instead Red cut in from behind him, “No, you ran away from foster care. You told me that.”
Taking a look over his shoulder he saw him fidgeting there, hands tapping against the arm of his chair. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. But he better be staying right where he was because this was all of their mess. They all had somehow missed that their vigilante-buddy, colleague or whatever- their friend was a fifteen year old homeless child.
“Of course,” Frank sighed, which must have set something off in Peter.
The boy straightened out and snapped back, “I wasn’t given another choice. What did you expect me to do? Let CPS hand me from place to place, overcrowded group homes and shit foster parents?” When Wilson tried to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder he shook it right off and stood, storming the few steps over to the kitchenette and away from them.
Suddenly, a fist slammed down on the counter, cracking it immediately. (Seeing this type of strength from someone with such a young face, someone outside a mask was just plain wrong.)
His whole body shook as he turned back and practically shouted at them. “I’d rather continue being homeless than enduring the shit I had to deal with in the system! I’m not going back and you can’t make me!”
He looked ready to fight them all. So pissed off and angry but Frank was almost glad about that. He knew how to deal with an angry Webs, not a quiet one.
But right now it looked like the teen only knew two gears, 0 or 100.
“Woah- woah, no one said anything about going back into the system, yeah? None of us trusts the government all that much. Take a breath. Let's sit and talk about this. But Peter, you get that this is a shock and we just need some deeds to know what to do, ok? Just talk to us, let’s figure it out together.” Barton tried to placate him.
Peter, one hand holding onto the counter in a vice grip, the other shaking by his side, just stood there. He went back to not looking at them and stared straight at the wall instead. Frank almost missed his quiet, “I’m not going back.”
He sounded scared.
Not just scared of going back into the system but of them and what they would do with him.
Suddenly, loud music interrupted the silence. ‘Rasputin’ blasted from Wilson’s phone who instantly began to swear and answered with, “I swear to Thor if this isn’t important I will come down to-” He was cut off for a moment and his back straightened out. “What the fuck do you mean Yukio and Megasonic Teenage Warhead were kidnapped? Why are you calling me? Get your X-Men buddies to get them. I’m in the middle of something.”
Frank managed to pick up a deep russian voice but not what it said. Whatever it was must have not been the right thing because next thing he knows, Wilson’s standing beside the wall and smashing his head against it not too gently. “Are you all completely incompetent? Why are your X-Asses never there? Why the fuck would they be in Albania of all places? No- no, I don’t care why they are in Albania. Just- I can’t leave my very important, very lifechanging shit because your school endangered teeangers again. Get them with the little fireball. He is kill-happy anyway.”
“What do you mean you are already in New York to get me? You can’t be serious. How much clearer do I need to make it? I. Can’t. Right. Now.”
The rushing of jet engines outside closed in while Wilson continued to colorfully swear into his phone up until something set on the roof of the building and the engine noises shut off.
The man was ready to go on another triad insulting the competence of the X-Men but Peter interrupted him, saying, “You should go. You shouldn’t- if they’re kidnapped, you shouldn’t stay here. Go help.”
“Peter-”
“Go,” he put some force into his voice and his face turned stern. His hands still trembled but they all knew that Webs would judge Wilson if he didn’t help his friends. The boy obviously didn’t want the man to leave but he’d probably consider it as a personal offense if the man disregarded his friend's safety because of him.
Wilson seemed to understand that as well because after a moment where he just stared at his friend he told whoever was on the phone that he’d be up in a few minutes.
“I’ll be back tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest,” he told Peter after he had quickly put a bag with various weapons together, pulling them out from all over the place. Holding the teen by the shoulders and looking at him intently, he stressed, “If they try to get you to CPS you fight them off, bunker out somewhere until I’m back or you hack the jet and send me a message. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
Peter mutely nodded and let himself be hugged by the mercenary. With apprehensive eyes he watched the man go and was instantaneously more tense when the door closed behind him.
Still hovering in the kitchen and making no move to get closer to them, Frank had to ask himself what the other man did to earn the kids trust in that way. Right now he was so high strung, he looked like snapping was long overdue. He got that this was different from the way Spider-Man trusted them, that knowing his identity challenged that trust anew but how weary he was of them still had Frank’s gut churning.
Barton let himself fall heavily into the couch, turned halfway so he could still keep an eye on the boy in the kitchen. He sighed deeply, rubbed his face and mumbled something about coffee.
“When do you turn sixteen,” Murdock abruptly asked in the quiet apartment. All attention turned to him. His fingers drummed nervously against his leg and his brows were furrowed.
He screamed ‘lawyer’ at the moment, almost more so than he remembered him being when Murdock turned up at Frank’s hospital bed.
Peter’s eyes flit over to him shortly before fixing themself on the ground again. “August, why?”
“Ok, so emancipation is out of question. There is probably a missing person report out on you, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered shortly.
“I should look into that and what our options might be from a legal standpoint.” The man sounded level but looked as stressed as Peter. He was short and professional in his tone. There was absolutely none of the warmth he usually directed towards Webs. “Can I talk to Foggy about you?”
Again, the eyes flitted over Murdock and glazed over slightly as he saw how the man practically itched to get away, to keep this conversation as short as possible.
The idiot was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t even notice how he was breaking the kid's heart.
“Doesn’t matter, does it,” he replied quietly, pushing through what sounded like a sizable lump in his throat.
Again the lawyer ignored it all and just went on, “I’ll talk with Foggy. You should get your stuff from wherever you were staying, get some essentials and meet me at mine. I’ll also call Claire and ask if she can come over to give you a check up. Text me when you’re on your way.”
With that he stood, taking a step towards the door before stopping short again. “I need your full name.”
This time Peter didn’t even attempt to hide how wet and devastated his voice sounded. “Peter Benjamin Parker.”
A nod and the man left. Without a goodbye or anything.
And yeah, Frank would later make sure the man knew how much of an asshole he was. He’d punch some sense into that thick ass skull of his. Sure, Frank was pissed off and fucking stressed as hell as well but the kid was obviously traumatised and had a magnitude of issues, abandonment being just the tip of the ice-berg. And the kid had been important to him before the damn mask came off. That didn’t suddenly change. If all his protective instincts toward Webs were just proven rational and now multiplied a tenfold.
God, this was going to bite him in the ass. Frank just knew it.
But hell he should have seen it coming befriending the lot of them.
“How about we see if we can find some bags around here for your stuff. And pack the things you have here. We probably won’t come back.” The archer suggested lightly and started to make his way through the room and opened the closet on the side of the room, rummaging through it, pocketing a gun here and there. Barton stuffed the reusable grocery bags he found into a duffel that was barely clinging onto life and shoved some of Wilson's clothes in there as well. Good, as the man would probably not miss them and they had no idea what the teen had for worldly possessions.
He obviously tried to easen up some of the tension Murdock had caused, showing the kid that they’d help where he could actually see it happening.
Peter stood stuck in his spot, still watching the closed door through which his two closest friends had just left through in short progression.
Frank took, what he guessed was the kids backpack from where it was laying beside the couch and stuffed the book and suit which had been almost falling out back in. “Come on squirt, pack up.”
At the nickname Peter’s head snapped up to him. He looked at Frank for a few seconds with glassy eyes, then at the backpack held out to him before he finally moved and took it from him. Secretly, he hoped it might have reassured him somewhat as well.
It was disconcerting how quiet he was. He got to know Spider-Man as a chatty person. He didn’t even shut up when they were working together on missions. (They took a fifteen year old out on missions- For fucks sake.) At first it was annoying but the constant background noise became a calming reassurance that everything was fine with the other man. Even when he was nervous or uncomfortable he rambled to no end. When the noise was gone, then it was time to worry. And now he seemingly tried to make as little sound as possible, quickly and efficiently getting his stuff together, skitting through the apartment.
Peter didn’t say a word if it wasn’t strictly necessary. He only rattled off an address from somewhere in Brooklyn when they got to Frank’s van and then again a short instruction when he helped them up destroyed staircases to get to his ‘place’ which was essentially an abandoned old warehouse ready for demolition.
The archer had filled some of the oppressive silence, chatting away about this and that, SHIELD business, Avengers stuff and whatever video game he was currently playing. He didn't really listen and the way Peter stared out the window on the drive he was too caught up in his head as well.
But even Barton couldn’t manage not to fall into speechlessness when they looked at the room the teen had housed in.
It was small and dingy. The place was scattered with things. Books in one corner, electronics and chemicals in another. A mountain of clothes and other soft stuff laid in a corner what, Frank could only guess, must be the bed. And it was dirty.
Of course it was dirty. Peter had been homeless without any resources.
The boy looked so embarrassed, eyes glassy as he moved around the room and stuffed the bags one by one as fast as he could. Frank pulled himself out of his stunned state and helped, took a bag and packed the books. Something that he couldn’t accidentally destroy.
A picture frame stopped him short in his work. Looking at the man and woman on each side of what must be Peter he knew instantly that those were the people he told Frank about. The family he had seen die. The people he told him about in the woods when they had their argument.
He was a child now and had been only younger then. He had to be so young when it happened, twelve, maybe thirteen. Or even younger? Peter had seen them get murdered and been with them when they took their last breaths. Not an age anyone should have to be acquainted with loss like that.
It made him think of the day at the carousell, when he had seen his family be ripped apart from him. They both took similar paths just with slightly different means, levels of aggression in the outcome. And he had seen what that boy could do, what was up in that brain of his, too. If he wanted to go bad, the Avengers would have trouble taking him down.
That sudden type of rage filled him, all consuming and white hot in his veins. He wanted to find every single person that was responsible for Peter’s pain and end them.
“That is my Uncle Ben and my Aunt May,” a quiet voice from right by his side interrupted his inner turmoil. The boy's eyes were fixed on the picture with that far away look Frank knew all too well.
He couldn’t take the pain away. Nothing he could say would make anything better so he just laid a hand to the back of the kids neck and squeezed once.
They wrapped up fast afterwards and made their way back to the car. None of them wanted to stay in that place any longer. He knew it took a toll on Barton as well packing up the room and witnessing how badly Peter had lived in the past- however long he had stayed there.
They knew practically nothing, Frank realized. Not about his family, why or how long ago he ran from foster care. It was really true what Peter said back in the forest, they knew nothing.
“I think he fell asleep.” Barton’s voice interrupted his thoughts from beside him.
With a sideward glance at a red light he saw Peter knocked out, forehead resting against the glass of the door, bobbing along with the bumps in the road. Finally, a silence he could accept from the boy, one not as disconcerting.
“Let him sleep. This all probably took a lot out of him already,” replied Frank.
“God, his place. Have you seen the stuff he was sleeping on?” Clint’s tone was low, not wanting to wake their sleeping vigilante friend. He sounded as exhausted as he looked.
Frank sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Fifteen.”
“Yeah, fifteen, shit, that’s so fucking young. I know how much it fucked me up and I at least had someone back then. I wasn’t alone. He is so fucking thin. For as long as I’ve known him he had been so thin and- he had been fighting crime- going hungry all the time?”
Shit, Barton is right. And not only that but they had trained him. They all did. Maybe it was better this way. He would have ended up dead somewhere alone if they hadn’t. Frank just couldn’t shake the thought that began to settle. They really made him some kind of child soldier, didn’t they? Fuck-
Seeing his face and then the mask in his hand. The moment it all clicked together in his brain like a messed up puzzle Frank experienced too many emotions at once. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or scream. Slap some sense into the boy or hold him close, comfort him. In the end his body almost went on autopilot when he saw the panic in the boy's face and hugged him. Children did something to him, softened all his sharp edges.
“What if he runs?”
That confused Frank a bit as Peter seemed pretty cooperative so far. But now as he thought about it, as soon as they were to talk about Spider-Man there was a real possibility for him to. “We’ll get to that if he tries.”
“What about school or CPS? What about Spider-Man? Shit, I don’t want a child running around playing hero, risking his life every night.”
“Me neither.” He really couldn’t say more. What were they about to do? Just tell him ‘No’. That wouldn’t work. Maybe Red already thought about something. They would’ll talk about that when they’re there.
Barton woke Peter up when he was parking.
Their Target trip would hopefully go down with only some minimal complaining. Maybe he’d stay that quiet when they got him a new wardrobe and hygiene products but Frank already knew that was wishful thinking.
Did he have any allergies? He never asked before.
As it turned out Peter did in fact have allergies, not normal one’s because why would he. They were from his spider-bite. Peppermint, cinnamon and vinegar. None of them were life-threatening but he couldn’t stand the smell because they were natural repellents for spiders.
Barton filled their cart with the various products, toothbrush, two in one shower gel, boxershorts, socks as well as some simple cheap shirts he could wear under his clothes for some more warmth and that fit him rather than the oversized clothes he was currently wearing. All things Peter needed but the other man must have known as well that the boy wasn’t comfortable with them spending money on him and stayed with the cheap products and only the bare necessities.
Sometimes Peter reached out as if he wanted to stop the archers arm from taking something else but stopped himself short, hand going back to himself and clutching the hem on his sweatshirt, fiddling with the seams. Other times he simply said, “No,” when they grabbed something which he didn’t strictly need. They put those things back as none of them wanted to start any discussion here in the middle of a Target.
Where did he get clothes from? Or food? He shook his head slightly and walked around the store a bit, searching for some cereal bars he told the other two, but really he just tried to get rid of some of the restlessness coming with those questions popping up.
Peter must have wandered away from the archer as well, because as Frank rounded a corner he saw him standing in front of a row of what seemed to be the LEGO section.
Frankie had a few sets he played with and Lisa never showed any interest but as a parent he still knew about them.
Peter seemed mesmerized, took one specific box and turned it over to look at the back. Then his face dropped slightly and he put it back. He looked sad as he was just realizing that he wasn’t able to buy it.
Barton would pay for it in an instance, probably being happy that he asked but he wasn’t the type of person to do that.
As he left, Frank walked over to where Peter was standing and looked at the box he had in hand. It was a Millennium Falcon from StarWars, had a lot of pieces and was probably a lot more challenging than the ones he had seen before. He wasn’t sure if that was something people his age played with but his childhood was cut short. Hell, he knew nothing about the boy, if he had some kind of childhood at all.
He didn’t even think twice when he took it and made his way to the register. Peter wouldn't let him buy it if he knew. He shot Barton a quick text that he would be waiting in the car.
They took their time, but the Target was big and Peter had essentially nothing to him so it made sense. He waited for about another half an hour till they came out.
The LEGO-set sat to the side of his legs so Peter couldn’t directly see it. When everything was packed away in the back and they settled back in their seats, he pulled out of the parking lot. Only when they were on the road and some streets away from the store did he pull the box out and unceremoniously dump it in the boy’s lap.
“No.” Peter didn’t touch the box, kept his hands away as if it would burn him if he did.
“Take it.”
“No, you can bring it back.” Some fire came back to his voice, sounding more like himself than he did in the last hour or two.
“Didn’t get the receipt,” Frank countered.
“Then donate it.”
For a moment they were silent, nothing except the road noises. Maybe he could sit this one out. Let the silence they were stuck in do the job for him but only a block later an angry, still too quiet voice snapped, “I’m not some charity case.”
“Never said you were. Take it. You can barely look or talk to us. Take it and build that thing when we’re at Murdock’s.” Do something other than sit there and look so lost, that Frank was scared the boy was going to slip away. He needed to take it so Frank knew the teen was Webs, never stopping, never not moving Webs. He needed him to ramble about it and show it off when he was finished like he did sometimes with his little gadgets and then make a snarky comment when Murdock didn’t appreciate it because he never saw or cared for the movies.
“Just take it,” he tried again and it came out softer than before.
Peter went back to staring out the window, at the light snowfall that had started a few minutes ago. With a shaky breath and trembling hands he hugged the box to his chest.
Notes:
oof, the secret's out now...
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Notes:
Hey hey,
I’m so sorry for the late update! I had major writer's block and like twelve other obsessions since I last updated. BUT, better late than never… right?
Sorry again!The release of Daredevil Born Again as well as some comments people left me definitely motivated me to push through and work this chapter out. The greatest motivation though was my roomie who is also my lovely beta-reader. They really guilt-tripped me into continuing and helped me work through the block I had. Thank you roomie! Love you <3
I hope you enjoy this chapter. A lot of work went into getting it right and I’m both really proud and nervous about it.
Thank you for reading and all the lovely comments!
Enjoy reading!
Chapter Text
“Please, Matt, just slow down for second- “
“No, I can’t slow down! Shit! Shit - I should have known, Foggy, I should have known. He- his heartbeat, it’s so obvious. He told me about his anxiety and that his body got all messed up from the bite and I just thought- No, I didn’t think!”
Matt grabbed his hair roughly. His suit was out of place and he kept pacing back and forth in the living room, restless energy keeping him moving.
“He avoided the weirdest questions because he knew I would’ve known if he’d lied. Fifteen- He is fifteen . I took him with me to take down- I don’t even know where to start-”
Counting on his fingers, he faced the other man in the room. “The French group with the bombs, that one time with Fisk, that human trafficking ring a few months ago, shit, even with the new Russian mind control drug I asked for his help. And that’s not even talking about the usual patrols or all the fucking super-villains he fights on his own. He is a teen ! And I fished so many bullets and knifes out of him and I’m at fault ‘cause I fucking took him to those fights. I- Foggy, we need to fix this- I need to fix this, somehow .”
Matt’s head was racing with the memories of every one of Peter’s injuries he treated, every fight they had. He had been friends with a child and didn’t notice anything; how he was homeless, probably half starved to death and without any of the support a kid his age should have.
He had to concentrate. The others would come by later and wanted at least an idea of what they could do to help the teen.
What could they do? Peter didn’t want to go back to CPS, he had made that abundantly clear. He needed a home, food, education and so many more things. He couldn’t emancipate yet and he probably shouldn’t anyway. What he needed was a guardian and a stable home life for at least a few more years so that he had some chance at transitioning into adulthood semi successfully.
Without ending as fucked up as any of them. Hopefully.
“Matt, I get it’s a difficult situation, but please just sit down for a second and think. We can talk about it if you just calm down a bit.”
Foggy was right. He couldn't help Spidey- no, Peter, if he panicked now.
He let himself fall into the couch beside his partner and took a few deep breaths. Leaning back and gripping his hair again he said, “Fifteen. Foggy, I trained him. Most of what he knows- I showed him.” A half hysteric laugh bubbled out of him and the hands in his hair tightened. “Stick would be fucking estatic if he’d be still alive. I’m just like him. Found myself a kid and trained him to be some-”
“Matt- stop,” Foggy cut him off. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You never tried to make him a killer. You also didn’t do it willfully and your main ambition was to keep him safe. He started on his own and not because you made him.”
Foggy patted his head. Matt got the message, let go and scooted over a bit, so that their shoulders bumped together. “Now let’s get back on track. You can have your breakdown later.”
His friend went on, “I kind of can’t believe it either. How did no super-person in this city realize that he was- what? Fourteen? Thirteen? That’s how old he must have been when you two met right?”
He could only groan in response.
They sat in silence for a while. It took some time to really digest that particular fact. Recalling the last years and everything that had happened.
“Ok, let’s get some things straight. He ran from his foster home a bit over a year ago,” Foggy asked. ‘Good’ thought Matt, Foggy’s was going to take charge in this. He was grateful for his friend being there. It all still confused Matt too much. He hadn’t thought the emergency Wade had texted about would end in him taking in a teenager for the night or however long Peter was going to stay.
“Yeah. He told me he was in different home’s and ran at some point. Couldn’t take it anymore. But I don’t know what exactly happened. If something happened. Something must have happened though, right? He wasn’t a fan of the foster system at all. Living on the streets is hard, harder than even a shit foster home and he is smart enough to know that. Someone must have given him a pretty good reason to run anyway.”
“Ok, I’ll look into his missings persons report and I’ll see what I can find about his last foster family.” Foggy hummed to himself as he thought out loud, “Maybe try to get Brett to look into the system for us as well. What are the options here? Back into the system is a ‘No’?”
“A strong one,” Matt sighed.
“Alright. I can talk to one of Marci’s friends. She specializes in family court and maybe has a bit more inside, seeing if he could get emancipated under special circumstances and also the requirements for claiming guardianship or adoption outside of the foster system. I’m not sure how much trouble a person would be in if they would turn up with a missing, homeless kid and try to adopt it.
Foggy nodded to himself. “I’ll do that, ask around subtly and you are going to figure out where Peter is going to stay in the near future until we figure everything out. We’ll meet together with Peter at the office tomorrow and hopefully until then I have some more answers or options on our hands.”
Matt leaned forward in his seat, taking his head into his hands and released a long shaky breath before answering, “Let’s do that. Thank you, Foggy. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
A hand settled on his shoulder and the other lawyer simply, but almost cheerfully, said, “You’d be bleeding out somewhere right now because you’re a self sacrificial idiot and would have picked a stupid fight in your frustration. No worries, we’ll find a solution and hey, I’m kinda excited to meet the teenager who managed to deceive every vigilante and hero in this city.”
“He really did, huh?”
Foggy chuckled, “Yeah, buddy. You’re all dumbasses.”
That managed to make even Matt chuckle. But the amusement was gone as fast as it had come.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “He shouldn’t be Spider-Man or- or any vigilante at all.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to stop him. You know how well it ended when I tried with you. Trying to convince someone to stop and not being able to-” Foggy took a shaky breath, probably remembering the day he found out and the emotional turmoil connected to it.
“Look, we both know I don’t understand why you have to do it. What makes you go out at night and beat people up in a devil-costume. But you have told me in the past that Spider-Man had been someone you connected with over this. Someone who understood and accepted that part of you without question. And I know it’s different because he’s a teen but maybe he’s found someone who understood him in you as well. Whatever drives him to do this, to be Spider-Man, I think it’s as much a part of him as Daredevil is part of Matt Murdock.”
“It’s wrong.” It was all he could say because it was. It was wrong for Peter to fight and wrong for Matt to have trained him. As wrong as it was for Stick to force Matt into a war that wasn’t his and turn him into a child soldier.
With a sigh Foggy sank a little further back into the couch. “How is Peter fairing?”
“He was- stressed, I guess?”
His friend spun to him sharply. “Oh man, you are such an asshole,” Foggy breathed out in disbelief.
What was he getting at? Confused and a little offended, his voice rose as he questioned, “Where is this coming from?”
“You are so emotionally stunted sometimes. I can’t believe it.” Shaking his head and pushing his elbow into Matt’s rips he prompted, “This kid's life was just flipped upside down. Several huge secrets, his age, his homelessness, his identity , all got out in one huge swoop to all the people he is closest to. That boy is most definitely beyond stressed. I would probably have had a panic attack if I were in his shoes.”
Silence dripped between them.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh .”
Spidey had lost it completely and cried for a while on Frank’s shoulder. But the rest of it, however much Matt tried, he could barely remember how the teen had acted and reacted beyond the few snippets of useful information he had needed.
His head fell, chin to his chest as he realized just how right Foggy was. He had been all up in his head, so focused on the fact that the fifteen year old in front of him was homeless, had no family and needed a place to stay. Matt had forgotten all about the fact that he knew the boy and just how much it was probably killing him right now that not only Matt left him, but Wade as well.
“Matty, you aren’t just a mentor, a fellow vigilante who trains him. You are his friend, too,” Foggy butted in and, like always, brought it to a point. “Not best friend, that title is obviously mine but close, yeah? After me and Karen you probably spent most of your time with him and Deadpool, like every other day.”
“I know, I know. You’re right.”
“So act like it. I can’t imagine what this must be like for Peter. Maybe don’t put being abandoned by a friend on top of it as well.”
With that he took his jacket and bag to take off, pausing on his way to the door and threw over his shoulder, “Talk about Spider-Man and tell Peter that we’re looking into his housing situation so he isn’t blindsided tomorrow.”
With the door closing he was gone and Matt was now sitting alone, uncertain what to do and with his friends on their way.
God, how could he have been so stupid.
Peter wasn’t even close to being an adult and decided to fight crime. Decided that his main form of social contact should be with people twice his age and older.
Matt couldn’t be sure anymore about so much. The extent of Peter’s powers, their origin. A while ago he had said he had been bitten by a spider but with everything else in question he’d have to get that cleared up as well.
How was he supposed to tell him he shouldn’t be doing this? That it wasn’t his responsibility. He’d look like a hypocrite.
Was he a hypocrite? No, Peter was a child. That meant that he shouldn’t make those kinds of decisions on his own. Especially not at the age of 13 when he must have started out.
Matt exhaled slowly. This would go horribly, he just knew it.
Getting up and pouring himself a glass of water Peter’s injuries came back to his mind.
The last few months alone were- rough. The burns, the horn impaling his back, the stab wound Frank had told him about.
Last night on patrol when those guys got the jump on him-
Sudden white rage pierced through him. His hand tightened around his cup for a second and before he knew it, Matt had flung it across the room. The glass shattered against the wall making endless shards rain down to the floor.
One deep breath. And another. His hands tightened into fists.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, reigning himself in again. Matt really needed to get a grip of himself, he wasn’t going to help anyone like this. Least of all Peter.
Walking over to his couch again, he tugged off the loosened tie completely, letting it fall to his feet as the whole situation started to settle and weigh him into the cushions.
He needed to concentrate. The others would come over pretty soon. Stretching out his senses, letting the noises wash over him he listened to see if they were close already. The snow started to fall again more vigorously and dampened the smells and sounds a little like it always did. Though Frank and the heavy tang of blood, metal and oil stood out like a sore thumb. That along with the quick, unique and all familiar beating of Spidey’s heart moving steadily closer through the New York traffic.
Much closer Matt suddenly became aware of Claire’s light footsteps, her floral perfume taking the last flight of steps up to his apartment.
“You’re not having a breakdown, are you?” Her tone was dry as she took in the room after he let her in. “Though you’re probably overdue for some type of intervention.”
Claire set the medical bag on the couch table and prepared her supplies.
Despite everything a small smile tugged at his lips. “No breakdown. No intervention needed.”
“You sure?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sure.” With a sigh he joined her on the couch where she turned to him and quickly patted him down. Sure hands moving over his head and his torso, feeling for bumps or broken ribs. Matt let it happen, commented though, “Not the patient.”
“You are always a patient.”
“The patient is parking downstairs and about to come up along with Frank and Clint. Look-” Matt sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as the heaviness set in again. “There isn’t an immediate problem. Nothing life threatening. He did get beat up last night but he has a healing factor and should be mostly alright by now. He’s probably malnourished but we don’t know how bad it is. There is also the very real possibility that he’s hiding injuries or has old ones that didn’t heal right. So it would be great if you could do a general check up.”
His finger drummed a rhythm on his thigh as he stalled, “The thing is-”
God, he did not know how to do this. Claire would not take it well.
“The thing is,” she prompted.
“The thing is you have met him before and…turns out he’s fifteen.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s fifteen.”
“Yes, you said.” The moment stretched to another. When he offered nothing more she prompted again, “And that I have met this mystery teenager.”
“Yes.”
The silence stretched between them and Matt could feel Claire’s look on him, the questioning eyes, practically hearing her brain working. A short, sharp knock on the front door interrupted them and before either of them had time to move Frank opened the door with a spare key he wasn’t supposed to have.
The three of them shuffled in with bags of stuff they piled beside his stairs.
Matt had stood up to greet Peter, Frank broke off to go into the kitchen and Clint greeted Claire.
Peter was Spider-Man. Spider-Man was Daredevil’s, no- Matt’s friend. This teen was Matt’s friend and he needed to get over himself and make sure Peter knew. Foggy had been right, Matt was an asshole and he needed to make amends. Apologizing or reassuring Peter he cared and was there for him.
But he did not know how to do or say any of it, so they just stood there, Matt facing Peter and Peter staring down to his feet, his breaths getting more agitated by the second.
With another step forward Matt was close enough to pull the teen into his arms. He ignored the slight flinch and did what he had done a hundred times before, he held him. And then, because he sometimes did that when he had hugged Spidey and the moment turned awkward, Matt shook him in his arms back and forth, telling him, “You are unstable. I could put you on the ground right now. It would be easy.”
A laugh startled out of the boy and then, “You wish.” Peter freed himself, despite Matt tightening his arms around him, trying to crush Peter against him and the teen went on to punch him in the shoulder.
But there was no force, no strength behind it. As fast as the good mood came it was gone again. Back to business. Back to the oppressive silence and unsure thoughts.
“Claire will just do a quick check on you, to make sure you’re alright and then we’ll talk,” Matt told him.
The nod he and near silent “Okay” he gave were enough confirmation Claire needed to join them.
She didn’t beat around the bush. “Matt says we have met before.”
Their hands met and Peter replied gingerly, voice low, almost shy, “Yeah, we eh- we have. A few times.” His face grew hot as well and he didn’t quite manage to speak to her directly. His heart was thundering inside his chest and the tang of cold sweat he was already covered in was joined by a new wave.
“Really? Normally, I’m quite good with faces but I can’t seem to remember yours.”
“Usually I wear a mask,” Peter offered hesitantly, voice shaky with poorly veiled fear.
He heard the moment Claire connected the dots. How her heartbeat ticked up a notch and then, because Peter had probably heard it, too, he underlined it by pulling his mask out of his pocket, holding it open in his hand for her to see.
“Do I get to know your name?”
“It’s Peter.”
Now that Matt really paid attention he noticed just how unwell Peter was. How much stress he was obviously in.
Claire took her setup and they disappeared into Matt’s bedroom for the exam. Matt did his best to ignore them, instead he listened to an elderly woman singing along to her radio on the other side of the street as she cooked dinner.
When he went to get himself and the other two men some beer, a hand on his arm stopped him before he could fully enter the kitchen.
Frank, obviously pissed off, asked, voice hard and short, “You done being a dickhead?”
His jaw clenched and even though he would like nothing more than to deck Frank he nodded once, just as hard and short and ripped his arm free.
The man scoffed but let it be for the moment.
They waited in silence, sitting around the living room, each of them too busy in their own heads to force useless chatter.
It didn’t take long for Claire to finish. She quickly explained that she would try to write up a diet plan but would deal with the rest of it individually with Peter without them having to be in the know. A quick goodbye and a squeeze to Matt’s arm which was as good as any verbal promise that they would be discussing the situation on a later date and she was gone.
With the lock clicking back into place every ease Claire brought to any room she was in had been sucked right out again. It was more than just unusual but felt outright wrong how quiet their group was. Sure, they had calmer moments but mostly only when he met any of them one on one.
Peter sat down at the foot of the couch table, in front of the couch and started unpacking some box with a lot of loose clackering pieces inside. First, a sticker was peeled off the carton, a box opened and then plastic crinkled as it was torn before he emptied bags of stuff out on the table in front of him and started to organize them.
Matt joined him, sat to his left on the couch and put a hand on his shoulder. The tension along his shoulder worsened but Matt kept his hand there. Normally, Spidey liked the contact and if he got Peter to relax at some point he knew the boy would welcome the touch. “What have you got there?”
“A LEGO Millenium Falcon. Frank bought it.” There was disdain in his voice. He probably hadn’t wanted the man to buy it, but he had done so anyway. It was good thinking on Frank’s part, to keep the boy’s hands busy while they talked.
“That’s nice of Frank.” Matt already cringed as he said it and instantly felt two heavy glares on him.
Clint thankfully cut him off before he could make even more of an ass of himself, “What did you discuss with Foggy?”
“He’ll look into some stuff, housing options out of the system, if emancipation is on the table maybe and how we could go about guardianship options.” Matt squeezed Peter’s shoulder and spoke to him then, “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow morning in the office together and decide then. Again, we do that together. We’ll try to figure something out everyone will be happy with. Most of all you.”
He didn’t get any acknowledgement but the shuddered breath Peter tried to hide told him enough.
“You will stay here with me until we find a permanent solution.”
Pieces clattered to the table and a sharp intake of breath stopped Matt short. The muscles under his hand went rigid, shook like the teen’s whole body. Peter ripped his shoulder out of the hold harshly and went back to his LEGO.
Stilted, Matt sat back on the couch, brow furrowed in confusion. His fingers tip-tapped over his thigh.
What had he done wrong now?
He could feel Frank judging him. Not unusual as he had been in a room with a pissed off Frank Castle enough times to know when he had set the man off somehow, but right then he did not know how he had managed to do so again.
Whatever. It didn’t matter as they got enough else to discuss.
“Let’s talk about Spider-Man,” the boy started suddenly, forcefully and with a confidence his body did not back up. His focus stayed on the tabletop. He confronted them but could not yet brave facing them. “Quick disclaimer, I won’t stop.”
Frank scoffed from the side which agitated Peter, pushing him further to the defense as he went on, “Just because I’m a few years younger than you all thought doesn’t change the fact that I have been a vigilante for years at this point. That I have been dealing with this shit and fighting before I knew any of you. Or- or still fight my own battles, villains without any of you.”
“Pete-” Clint tried to cut in, placating as the teen worked himself up more and more. But there was no stopping him as those worries had obviously built themselves up over the past few hours.
“No- No, I know you think you have a say in this because you’re adults and I’m not but you have no say over me. You aren’t my parents or guardians or- or whatever. You are- were- my friends or colleagues. Nothing more. And you don’t go around telling friends how they're supposed to live their lives. You have no say in this- None!”
Peter was trembling beside him, every muscle of his body coiled and ready to flee at any moment. Ready to run.
His voice wavered but was still only short of a shout. “And if you do then I’ll leave. I don’t need you! I can take care of myself. I have been taking care of myself and if you try to take this from me, then- then I don’t want to be your friend!”
He angrily rubbed tears from his face and finally looked at them, quick nervous glances gauging their reactions. If Matt could see he would probably be met with the dirtiest glare. Then he might have disregarded some of what he heard beyond the words.
But as it was he knew Peter’s heartbeat was all over the place. Half truths or complete lies, panicked words that his body unconsciously recoiled to itself.
“Take a breath,” he tried calmly. “In, 2-, 3-”
“No! I don’t want to take a breath. I want to get this over with! I want you all to tell me that I should stop and then tell you that that’s not going to happen and then- and then you-”
Gasping breaths he shut off, curling in on himself there on the floor. He waited, obviously expecting them to lash out. To shut him down and ultimately prove him right.
Matt didn’t know what to do. What to say or how to not make the situation worse again, like he had too many times today already.
Of course he was somewhat right. Spider-Man had been in the game for a few years now in which he not only fought the everyday bad guy but helped take down whole crime syndicates. Not only that but he actively fought, what the boy loved to dub, ‘Avengers-Level-Threats’ sometimes with these heroes and sometimes all on his own. Villains - Matt could admit that to himself - much more powerful and dangerous than some of his own ‘regulars’.
Back when he barely knew Spidey he heard about him fighting the Vulture. A alien-tech-weapons manufacturer with an extensive criminal network and a suit rivaling the Falcon’s. Foggy and Karen had been discussing their fights often back then, retelling the news reports and describing the video footage as the two went head to head many times over those few weeks. Marveled, as a vigilante, still relatively new to the game, dismantled a crime organization of that size systematically. (A bit clumsily and with a naivety that showed just how little experience he actually had.)
At that point he had only trained with Spider-Man a few times, had shown him some techniques but had still tried to keep his distance. Matt hadn’t known him well enough yet and they hadn’t been forced to trust each other, hadn’t been thrust into a situation as the Defenders had been with the Hand. So Matt had tried not to care, to not be amused at his sense of humor or let at all show how much he liked the fresh wind Spidey brought to his life.
But then Stark’s plane went down on Coney Island. The Vulture was found neatly tied up with any and all tech that hadn’t been destroyed.
And Spider-Man- he was missing. Gone, with even the Vulture asking after him. It took two weeks for him to pop up again, swinging and quipping like nothing ever happened. Two weeks in which every New Yorker waited with baited breath if one of their own had made it or if they had lost him. Wade had found him one night and asked him to listen out for the little man but Matt hadn’t been familiar enough with him then and because of that, even as he tried, couldn’t find Spider-Man.
It had been the catalyst to patrol together regularly on top of their training. To hang out and eventually become friends. Because Matt had already cared and for two weeks Spider-Man had been as good as dead.
It wasn’t the only villain Spider-Man fought that Matt wouldn’t have been able to take down like the young hero did. Sure he probably would have found another way but to fight a guy in a giant, flying metal suit? That kind of strangeness aligned more with Spider-Man’s business of crime-fighting.
So yes, he knew that Spider-Man had his value, he was a protector of the people in this city like Daredevil was. Spider-Man was needed.
But not enough to endanger a child. A teen that needed to be kept safe and protected.
Peter was already hurt beyond what Spider-Man could ever do to him, let happen to him. This shouldn't be a burden a child has to face and carry.
Frank put his empty bottle of beer on the coffee table and stayed on his seat's edge, elbows on his knees. He watched Peter who was still curled in on himself and with a sigh said, “We all know you have been out there. It doesn’t make it right though.”
Peter tried to interrupt him but Frank went on, tone harder, “No, you are going to listen for a second. It doesn’t matter how useful or important Spider-Man is when you- you, Peter, are homeless and starving. And don’t tell me you’re not. We all know that’s bullshit. You lived in a fucking warehouse. You aren’t in school. You ever thought about the future? No degree, nothin’?”
“Of course I did! I’ll do my GED next year and work until I can afford college,” Peter countered.
“If you aren’t dead by then you mean.” At that the boy was just staring at Frank, mouth opening and closing a few times. Before he could come up with something to say, Frank went on, “Yeah, because how many close calls did you have this past year? The last few weeks alone? And that is just with the mask. Not even talking about you freezing to death in that room of yours.”
“You don’t know that. I already made it through last winter. I would have-”
“It doesn’t matter. I doesn’t change that it’s fucked up.”
On the other side Clint let his head fall back at the seat and with a deep sigh, the man pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling, “To think we might have a civil conversation.”
Peter was white knuckling his hoodie by then, arms hugging himself. His voice grew as he argued with Frank. “What do you expect of me? Huh? Stay in the system? Being bounced from home to home? Just take the fucking abuse ? Yeah, I knew running was a risk, that being homeless is fucking dangerous but don’t even think for one second that this was an easy decision. That I haven’t tried to find some other solution.”
Frank’s voice was cutting, “But you haven’t, have you? You could have gone to your lawyer buddy -”
Matt knew what the man was doing, knew that it was necessary as Peter was obviously not thinking clearly. That he didn’t have the distance to the situation like them to see how fucked up it was.
“And what? We would have been sitting here, you trying to talk me out of being a vigilante but sooner.”
“Yes, because you are a homeless child. A homeless child, the protector of New York. Oh, how the masses would love it.” With a sarcastic laugh he let himself fall back into his seat, shaking his head to himself.
“I couldn’t just stop! I can’t just stand by! When I do, people die,” he shouted at the older man. In anger, panic and desperation.
With another shake, Frank intoned, “You live in that mask, hiding from reality, from what this is doing to you . I bet you spend more time in the mask than off this last year and-”
“Oh fuck you!”
At this Clint cut in, “Cool it guys. This isn’t helping anyone.”
“No, Frank doesn't get it.”
“I get it.”
“You don’t get shit! You think we’re different. That we’re not exactly alike?”
Again, Clint cut it off. As right as Frank and as important the discussion was, they were getting nowhere like this. Even though Peter, in anger, was more likely to talk, to just shout the information they wanted or at least something truthful to them, neither were in the mindset to listen to each other and on top of that he didn’t want to exploit the situation when Peter wasn’t completely aware of his actions.
“Let’s take a step back, ok? How about we clear some stuff up before throwing out accusations and start the whole discussion somewhere else when we have more facts, yeah?”
The boy’s focus, for the first time since the little shouting match started, shifted to the archer, fixing him with a look, a glare probably. “Like what,” he spat out.
Clint ignored the tone and asked, “How about your powers? I know we talked about it in the past but maybe walk us through how exactly you got them.”
“Already told you, a spider bit me.”
“What kind of spider?”
“Why?”
“I know too many people who were experimented on. So, what kind,” the archer asked again.
It would also help knowing if any organization, crime-syndicate or whatnot could be going after Peter. If he was not only homeless but on the run and hiding.
The boy in question was twisting his fists in his shirt. The fabrics creaked as fibres stretched and ripped.
“A mix of breeds,” he spit out. “Probably radioactive.”
Clint didn’t acknowledge the biting tone. “Was it forced on you? Did someone make the spider bite you?”
“No, it was an accident.”
“Where did this happen,” Matt cut in.
An annoyed scoff sounded from his side. “What does it matter?”
Frank interjected, just as aggravated, “It does. Just answer.”
The fabric twisted further, hands shaking. Peter’s face grew hot as his blood rushed in anger.
“School trip. The spider’s dead. Look- nobody experimented on me.”
“And nobody might want to know what happened to their experiment?”
“You think that wouldn’t have happened until now? I did not get bitten yesterday!”
Just as Clint started to ask another question, Peter burst, “Why? Why is it so important? Why do you so desperately need to know how I got my powers? Why aren’t we talking about how you’re just going to end up calling CPS or- or- try and take Spider-Man away? Which you won’t by the way. I won’t let you! And I won’t let you put me back into the system! It’s not gonna happen!”
Clint sat up and scooted to the edge of his seat, closing some of the distance to the teen. They were all getting tired of talking in circles but the man stayed kind as he attempted again, “We just want a fuller picture of how all of this came to be, so that we know how to help you best.”
“I don’t want it! I don’t want your help and I don’t need it!”
Frank cut in just as harsh as Peter before him, “Well tough luck, kid, you’re going to get it anyway.”
At this point Peter was almost yelling again, “You want to know how I became like this? Why I’m doing this? Well let me tell you.
“Picture this: A 12 year old gets bitten by a spider on a school field trip. Oh- Surprise! That spider was heavily experimented on and radioactive. Then he feels like he is gonna die for a week straight but he can’t let his aunt and uncle know because who has the fucking money for a hospital, they certainly didn’t.
“After that horrible week where the boy doesn’t know if he is gonna wake up each time he falls asleep, he wakes with abs, he doesn’t need his glasses anymore and even his asthma is gone. Then he notices that he sticks to things with his skin, he destroys everything he touches because he has freaking superstrength, too. And suddenly it’s all just too loud and too bright, too much because his senses are dialed up to eleven.”
The anger started to fizzle out of him. With each word Peter drew more into himself.
“Haha- yeah so cool and fun for a twelve year old. Not frightening, especially with all those mutant hate campaigns out there.
“So the boy doesn’t tell anyone, again and over the course of a week he shuts himself away, not wanting anyone to see what a freakshow he became and just desperately trying to learn how to use things normally again. His uncle notices of course and when he confronts the boy about all the broken things around the house and him shutting himself out they have an argument and another one and another one till one night the boy has had enough and runs out. Just needing fresh air for a minute.
“Of course it doesn’t go his way either as he conveniently strolls the corner store just as it gets robbed. Now he knows that he has the strength and could probably punch the robber hard enough for him to stop but he doesn’t because the man has a gun and the boy is scared.”
His voice started to tremble but he pushed through.
“Next thing, he walks down the street and sees the same guy robbing his aunt and uncle. They were afraid when he ran that something could happen to him and followed, searching for him. And then- what don’t you have when you leave the house after you follow your run away kid? Right, your purse or wallet or any valuable shit. They just had the boy’s stupid jacket.”
“And when the robber doesn’t get anything from them- he shoots.”
Peter’s heart was beating away fast. Under the clenched hold Peter had on his own legs Matt could feel the bruises form but the teen was not really with them anymore, or in the room enough to notice.
His voice was even, lacking any emotion as he went on, “I was on the other side of the street. When I got there, the guy was running and May- May, she was already gone. Uncle Ben lived for about another minute before he bled out. - I can still feel their blood on my hands.”
The words sounded so lost and Matt got the feeling this was the first time Peter ever shared any of these memories. The teen turned to Frank, speaking to him again, but unlike any of the confrontations they had since they entered the apartment, none of the anger was to be found. “I told you I know what it’s like to see your whole family die right in front of you. I tracked the killer, too, you know? I wanted him dead and I almost went through with it. He is in jail and will stay there for the rest of his life. I made sure of that.”
Peter came back to them as he must have found new strength in himself. When he addressed them it was almost a challenge. “I’m helping people. I protect them and when I fail or when I don’t even try ?” He shook his head to himself.
“I have seen the worst of it already. The worst people can do to each other. Up close and personal. Seen it and have it happen to me. Me- Peter. I have held more people as they died than anyone should ever have to- with and without a mask. I know this is wrong and I shouldn’t have to do this, shouldn’t be needed, like any of us but- I’m like you.
“So yeah, I won’t stop, because that’s all I have. It’s all that matters and I will not ignore it. Everything that added up to that night with my aunt and uncle got me started. Everything that happened after made me continue. I am Spider-Man and no one can make me walk away from that.”
The words rang in the quietness of the room, hanging there. It left a bad taste in his mouth just how much Matt could relate. How right Peter was in his assessment of them.
He didn’t think he could ever give up Daredevil. For Foggy he had tried of course.
But it was there. In his blood. Something eating inside of him, consuming him, mind and bones if he didn’t go out. Didn’t give in to urges to be Daredevil.
Suddenly, Peter shot to his feet and with only a short, “I’ll be on the roof,” bound up the stairs.
The pang of the door closing echoed.
Matt pulled the glasses from his face and rubbed a hand over the pressure building behind his eyes. “He isn’t leaving,” he quietly confirmed for the others. Just in case.
At that, Clint got up as well, grabbed two jackets from the coat rack and followed the teen to the roof.
Without really meaning to, head still held in his hands he let out a grunt.
“What did you and Nelson discuss,” Frank interrupted his existential crisis.
“He’ll look into some options, discreetly inquire with some experts and we’ll talk about it in the office tomorrow morning.”
For a moment longer they stayed in silence. Frank’s head must be as big a mess as his is if he knew the man at all and he liked to think he did.
Getting to his feet and putting his glasses back on he walked into the kitchen. He could feel the other man’s eyes following him as he got himself another beer.
“Did we do this? Did we make him continue by training him,” he asked. The bottle in his hand slammed not so gently on the kitchen counter. Not waiting for an answer he went on, “I know he is Spider-Man but how do I connect that, the vigilante and my friend with the boy that is sitting upstairs? How do I do that?”
That had Frank on his feed and up in Matt’s face in a second. “You better figure it out, Red.” A hand jabbed at his collarbone and then as it went to grab him he blocked it. For a second they grappled. Frank got a hit in his rips as Matt got a swipe at his cheek. They held each other apart as they held close.
“You better figure it out. And you do it quick. That shit you pulled back there, it’s not gonna slide. He doesn’t need your bullshit,” he rasped between them, gripping his shoulder tight as he threatened.
And all Matt could do is breathe out, “I know.”
“Good.”
The hands eased but they were still close. Frank’s breathing, his heart, his anger.
“I need him to be okay. What- what if it’s too late- What-” He shook his head. He didn’t know what to say or do. Nothing was clearer than an hour ago. “I’m worried,” which said it all and nothing, didn’t even begin to scratch the iceberg.
He didn’t anticipate the low response, similarly tired and upset, “Yeah Red, me, too.”
Clint found Peter on the roof, sitting on the ledge swinging his legs freely. Even without the mask the image screamed ‘Spider-Man’.
He knew the young man had noticed him already. Clint walked over calmly, draping the jacket over his shoulders and sat down beside him.
Breathing in the cold air, looking at the city lights, it made his head clear up for the first time that day. It took a toll on Clint as well as everyone else involved. The fact that Peter had been homeless for so long was the worst part. Knowing what it’s like to fight for your life, day to day, not knowing where your next meal would come from. He still struggled with it at times, even now after he has been living comfortably for a long time.
He didn’t look at Peter, just kept watching the city before him. It was beautiful, the twinkling lights in the distance. The countryside was nice from time to time, to get some quiet, as an outlet to recharge from all the terrible things he was seeing and fighting daily in New York. But here like this, he never wanted to be anywhere else.
A gust of air made goosebumps rise despite the coat. He had been accustomed to the cold once, too. No one should have to be. Peter already put on the jacket and now buried his hands in the oversized sleeves.
“It’s nice out,” he said simply.
Clint didn’t get any response and as he looked at the boy, he saw what he expected, glassy eyes, staring over the city, longing for something that wasn’t there anymore and would never be back.
“I won’t stop you.”
That made him snap back to reality. “You won’t?” His voice was hopeful but he still didn’t look at Clint. Seemingly afraid of what he might find in his expression.
He sighed deeply, “Mhh- yeah, well, you won’t stop no matter what. But I’d rather know about it then not. I don’t know about Matt or Frank but- Just please let us help when you need it. Come to us when you're hurt.”
The young vigilante now looked at him. He seemed confused at the easy acceptance and something else? Clint didn’t know until he spoke up.
“You still want me around? After I lied to you for so long?”
He sounded so young now. Too hurt by everything the world had thrown at him already. Left by too many people at such a young age. This wasn’t only about Spider-Man, they had read that wrong. This was about him fearing to lose his connection to them, his friends, probably the only people in his life right now.
“Oh Pete, bud,-'' Clint pulled him close into a side hug, “You can’t get rid of me that easily. You had to do a lot of way worse stuff for me to not want you around. And we hang out with Deadpool and the Punisher, for christ sake.” He got a broken, quiet chuckle for that and something soared in Clint’s chest.
They sat in silence again, still hugging and just taking the time they needed. There were still many things unsaid, many questions unasked. They had to go back inside and deal with those and get out of the cold. Maybe even just let it be for the day. It was getting late and if Clint was honest with himself, he didn’t think he or any of the others could deal with what else Peter might reveal for tonight.
Before Clint could suggest heading inside again Peter whispered, “I just don’t want anyone to leave again.”
“We won’t. I won’t. It’s a lot, but we are here now and we’ll stay, so please, let us help. You are not alone anymore.”
“Ok.” He didn’t sound convinced, understandably. They had a long road ahead of them, but for now they needed to warm up. Clint stood and stretched, groaning a little at the stiff, cracking joints. Peter understood without saying and followed him back inside.
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