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MJ. He could call her MJ now. Honestly, he’s been rearing from the high of telling MJ and Ned everything, he was rearing from meeting other Spider-Beings, and now owning a trench coat and fedora hat.
Though, it was hung up in his wardrobe, never worn, but stared at. He wanted to wear it, more than anything, but it clashed against his suit. His suit was thin, and a firetruck red, and cookie monster blue. It was bright, colourful and friendly, despite being hardened, and becoming slightly jaded through the years. After all, he is The Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man.
Noir’s coat and hat were thick, a black, white, greyscale of colours from the 1930’s, and riddled with scuff marks showing off battle wins and losses, a dark history which Peter had never dealt with.
Matt disagreed.
“Kid, you do beat up Nazis,” Matt reasoned, as his fingers dragged over the sheets of a case he was working on.
“Hydra agents are a weird case — ” Tried Peter from the corner of Matt and Foggy’s office, pouring over homework.
“Hydra are New Nazis, you beat them up when you see them. Therefore, you should wear the trench coat and hat.”
Ned and MJ had agreed with Matt.
He sat, eating a muffin (“I don’t actually like the coffee here, I just come to see you two,” he had said, blushing. “Creepy, I know.”), next to Ned and in front of MJ who was behind the counter.
“Really Peter, I’ve seen old videos, and if what you say is true, you should be wearing that coat and hat,” Ned said. He had taken everything in stride, he had believed from the moment Peter told him, because apparently he had dreams about them. About helping Spider-Man, about shooting a web at The Shocker, about calling Mr. Hogan, about London and The Multiverse. He thought they were wishful thinking, and fantasy, made up, so when Peter confirmed they were real, Ned was delighted and excited.
“But, I’m not a cool, noir, P.I. who beats up Nazis and fights crimes, am I?” Asked Peter, pointedly.
MJ, who was the more sceptical, until he told her about The Black Dahlia necklace, sighed and said, “you was a child soldier, crushed by a building, crashed a jet, hit by a train which has left you with a phobia of them, betrayed by two Father Figures leading to serious trust issues, and dealt with the multiverse - twice, died, lost your entire family, Peter Parker doesn’t exist, and now fights like a vigilante, leaving people like vegetables, and beating up Hydra.” She listed, as if going through a grocery list. “You deserve that coat and hat.”
Peter groaned, and rubbed his face, “when you say it like that, it’s like you’re saying God put me behind the 8 ball.”
MJ blinked, “what?”
“It’s 1930’s slang — ”
Ned raised a hand, “see?! Dude! You should totally wear them! You’re even talking like a 1930’s Spider!”
Peter couldn’t lie, he missed this.
“So, how did you know you wanted a tattoo?” Asked Peter, munching away with Clint. He was being healthy for once, he was eating a salad, and it was fucking delicious!
Clint paused, and looked down, swallowing his salad. “Well, when Thanos wiped out half of the world, my entire family were amongst those. I got...” He swallowed, looking down a bit teary. He wasn’t proud of himself.
“You stopped pulling your punches.” Peter said, knowingly. “You got rageful. You got bitter.” He said, remembering Peter Three’s words, about how he felt when he lost Gwen.
Clint nodded, “yeah. I took up the alias of Ronin, an identity used by several heroes, and I began a killing spree. Of people who I disliked. Who angered me, or hurt others. I had a list.” He tapped his arm, “this is to remind me of that. And, I thought it was cool.”
Peter huffed a laugh, “and you was sure?”
“It was more on a whim, and I loved it.” Clint shrugged, looking at him, “why? You want tattoos?”
Peter shrugged back, “dunno. I know I thought about it when I first re-met you, but stopped myself because; hey that would make it more obvious.”
“Well, let’s work with hypothetical's,” reasoned Clint, waving a fork. “If you were to, hypothetically, get a tattoo or two. What would it be?”
Peter thought, carefully thought; maybe Aunt May and Uncle Ben? I could remember them that way, keep them close. No, the memories are the best, not the ink. He stabbed a tomato, and thought. Maybe the “great power” quote? Or, the “it’s a leap” quote? That sounded a bit more promising.
As he looked to the television, quietly playing a rerun of Peter’s take down of The Scorpion from yesterday, Peter had a stupid idea.
“All the villains I’ve fought, with a dimension number if needed.” Peter said, looking at Clint, who stared in shock. “That’s probably stupid, huh?”
Clint snorted, wiggling a hand, “kinda. But, if that’s the hypothetical tattoo you want, get it.” He looked over, “would it bring up trauma?”
“Possibly?” Shrugged Peter, running a hand down his arm, “I’d add Stark’s name too.”
Clint grinned, “if you want them done, write the names done, and get in contact with me. I know a guy.”
Peter eyed the blueprints for what he called “A Goober”, (thank you, Peter B. for those names!), and looked down to his notebook. There were a bunch of names, with a few “earths” and numbers next to them.
He has been trying to sort out a way to jump through dimensions again, which meant he had to learn quantum realms, leaping, and polarity. It wasn’t easy, but he did find out about certain dimensions, which was easy if you interacted with someone from that dimension.
The list of names, and numbers were all the people who he hated, or hated him, written out in red pen:
The Vulture - Adrian Toomes
Shocker - Herman Schultz
Thanos
The Black Order
Mysterio - Quientin Beck
Dock Ock - Doctor Otto Octavius (Earth-96283)
Sandman - Flint Marko (Earth-96283)
Green Goblin - Norman Osborn (Earth-96283)
The Lizard - Dr. Curtis Connors (Earth-120703)
Electro - Maxwell “Max” Dillon (Earth-120703)
The Rhino - Aleksei Sytsevich
The Scorpion - MacDonald “Mac” Gargan
Dock Ock - Doctor Olivia Octavius (Earth-1610)
Tombstone - Lonnie Lincoln (Earth-1610)
The Scorpion - Maximus Gargan (Earth-1610)
The Rhino - Aleksei Sytsevich (Earth-1610)
The Prowler - Aaron Davis (Earth-1610)
Kingpin - Wilson Fisk (Earth-1610)
John Jonah Jameson
Coach Adre Wilson
Eugene “Flash” Thompson
Steven “Skip” Westcott
Hydra
New York Police Department
General Thaddeus E. "Thunderbolt" Ross
The American Government
Iron Man - Anthony “Tony” Stark
It’s a long list, and it’ll only get longer as he grows and ages. Is this really going to be his life? Yes. And, he couldn’t wait for more.
Peter, Yelena and Kate were sitting in a bar, fake IDs were a beautiful thing for Peter, and the young looking women. That, and apparently Peter could be intimidating, with his bulked up muscles bulging from under his button up shirt, coat over his arm.
Yelana had straight up vodka, and Kate had a coke, while Peter had a chocolate egg cream. (They didn’t even have chocolate egg creams, but Peter stared them down, and they complied.)
Maybe, Peter was feeling a bit sad, remembering Noir that he decided for the cold treat, after all, he would order chocolate milkshakes. He was wearing Noir’s coat and hat, the coat now on since it gave him a dark look, and people walked right past them.
“So, how are you and MJ?” Asked Kate, pulling Peter out of his careful listening.
“What?” Drawled Peter.
“You and MJ — ”
“You two doing it again?” Asked Yelena, wiggling her eyebrows.
Kate grimaced, “ew!”
“No,” assured Peter. “MJ and I aren’t together, but we’re... well.” He smiled slightly, “I’m tryin’ to do better.” He looked up, “but we’re all becoming friends again. Memories are coming back to them...”
“Do you miss her, romantically?” Asked Kate, who had a soft spot for Spider-Man. She grew up with the boy turned man, and held him to a high regard. Especially when he saved her life. And, when Clint introduced the two, Kate screamed and rushed over blabbering about how it was “an honour to meet you, Mr. Spider-Man!”, before tripping on her untied shoelaces, and landing on the ground, breaking her nose. (Peter had then kindly helped her up, reset her nose, and bandaged her up.)
“Yes,” Peter answered, eyes looking around. “We’re meant to be looking for the mutant kidnappers,” he looked at the two women, while they were a lot older than him, they sometimes acted like teenagers. “Focus up.”
Maybe it was a testament to how far Peter had come, or how he was these days that they took orders from him, and they quickly shut up, and looked around.
“ - maybe he’d be a fortune - ”
Peter looked over, seeing a boy with webbed hands, being held by a big burly man. “12 O’Clock.” He said, and the girls glanced over.
“ - Я скоро буду там для эксперимента. приветствую гидру — ”
“Yelena, go over and stumble into Dumbass, start apologising, and drying him, knock his hand off the kid. Kate, you get the kid, in the midst of chaos, sweep him away.” Peter said, hands clenched.
“And, what’ll you be doing?” Asked Yelena, eyebrows raised.
“There’s a Hydra agent behind me.” Peter said, shrugging with one shoulder, “and, I like to fight Nazis. A lot.” He said, chuckling to himself thinking of Noir. “It’ll cause a distraction.”
Kate grinned, “let’s do it.”
The two got up, and walked off, and Yelena began stumbling. Peter got up, and walked over to the Agent.
“Hey,” Peter greeted, and the Agent looked up, confused. “Hail Hydra, huh? You’re Nazi scum?”
The Agent got up, but Peter grabbed his collar, and slammed his fist into the man's face. If he focused, he could almost see the burst card appearing around him. It caused chaos. People screamed, and rushed over to tear the two apart.
Peter broke the Agent’s jaw, and the Agent broke Peter’s nose. Didn’t matter, because he was hit hard enough to be unconscious and Yelene and Kate got the mutant out.
“You’re an idiot,” scolded Frank, patching up Peter’s nose that night.
“True, but I can now confidently say I punched a Nazi,” shrugged Peter. “I think I can now wear the coat and hat, after all I’ve done is some justice.” Reasoned Peter, smiling, his teeth stained with blood.
Snorting, Frank stood back, “it clashes against your suit.”
Peter looked down and nodded, “yeah. So, I’m gonna make a new one.” He looked up, “with thick spandex.”
Frank raised an eyebrow, “okay. What colours?”
“Same colours, just darker like Matt’s so I can blend in.” Peter looked around Frank’s hideout, with Max’s head on his knees, slobbering. He stared at Frank’s impressive gun collection, then asked, “you got a gun holster?”
It was the same style of Peter Two and Three’s, the same placement of red and blue, but darker, the red’s reminiscent of Matt’s Daredevil suit, and the blue reminiscent of Captain Roger’s stealth suit (a man he looks up to, and wishes he could have known before the mess of The Civil War). But, it was going to be thick, much like Wade’s Deadpool suit, who was kindly looking over his designs and holding out the abundance of red and blue latex he owned.
“Not bad Spidey,” hummed Wade, eyeing the design. “Rubber ridges for the webbing look?”
Peter grinned, and nodded, “yeah. Black, like the soles of the feet.”
“Is that... a gun holster?” Asked Wade, pointing to a black belt with buckles, and a holster.
“Yep,” nodded Peter, scratching his neck. “Uh, thinking about having a 45 calibre pistol.”
Wade whistled, “cool.” He smiled, suddenly a bit teary, “our baby boy is growing up!”
Peter scoffed, “right. Or, I’m jaded.”
“That too!” Wade pointed to the wrists, specifically the black bands that held two spider emblems on each, “what are these?”
“Web shooters, thought I should add a spider on them.” Peter shrugged, and sat on the sofa. “You sure you don’t mind me using the last of your red?”
“Baby boy, go for it!” Wade assured, waving a hand.
With a laugh, Peter looked down at the latex and grinned, “Matt’s gonna kill me.”
“What do you think?” Asked Jessica, holding up a black, skimpy dress with a sneer.
Peter raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think it’s my size, Jess.”
Jessica flicked his forehead, “ha ha.”
“A bit more colour, Jessica,” Danny said, holding out a red, sequin dress. “You wear this, the guy is gonna be all over you.”
Peter whistled, “it’d certainly knock the sock’s off of ‘em.”
Jessica took the dress, and sighed, “why can’t we send Kate and Yelena into this?”
Peter raised an eyebrow, “because I said no. And, because this is your case. But, if the guy is bisexual, I can totally go in for you?”
“No.” Danny said, walking over, “absolutely not. Jessica can handle herself, she’s just being dramatic.” He shoved the dress into her arms, “go try it on.”
Jessica sighed, “fine.” She paused, and nodded her head, “Pete. There’s some black latex in the back of the store if you need some still.”
“You know I do Jess,” smiled Peter, watching as she left to the changing rooms.
“Black latex?” Asked Danny, confused.
“For the Spider Emblem and the soles of the suit,” Peter said, and at Danny’s totally lost look, he winced - Danny didn’t know. “Uh, well... I’m making a new suit.”
Danny blinked and smiled, “you’re finally wearing your coat and hat?”
“I punched a Hydra Agent in it, I think I can wear it now,” Peter shrugged. “But, uh... well, Matt doesn’t know about it. Somehow. And, he doesn’t know about the extra weapon I want.”
Danny raised an eyebrow, “and. What is it?”
“A gun?” Asked Frank, looking shocked. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be killing anyone?”
“I’m not gonna scrag ‘em. But, sometimes I’m gonna need a gun; throw some lead at ‘em.” Shrugged Peter, and at Frank’s sceptical look, he sighed. “I don’t want to kill anyone, but a blown out kneecap’ll teach a pedo or two to not fuck around with kids.”
“What about being The Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man?” Asked Frank, warily and confused.
“I still am him, but the world isn’t friendly. It’s mean.” Shrugged Peter, thinking of RIPeter, dying by the hand’s of Kingpin, of Noir who lived in the 30’s fighting Nazis’ and The Great Depression, of Peter B. who had to go through a divorce - he can do the Spider-Man thing, just not the life thing. Of Gwen, whose Peter turned into The Lizard and died. Of Miles, whose Uncle Aaron turned out to be The Prowler. Of Porker, whose Aunt made him a half-half, changing him into an entirely different species. Of Peni, who lost her Dad and her Best Friend.
“It’s time I got a little mean too,” Peter said, seriously. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t be nice and friendly, but to the really bad ones, he’ll be their worst fears.
Frank smiled slightly, “okay. What gun?”
“A 45 calibre pistol.”
Frank walked off, and pulled one of the pistol’s off the wall. He walked over and handed it to Peter, “good luck.”
Peter sighed, “Matt?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to get a tattoo. Or two. Or a few.”
Matt looked over slowly, eyebrows raised unimpressed. “Tattoo’s? Of what?”
“Uh, all the people who hate me,” shrugged Peter, swallowing.
“Tattoo’s?”
“Well, I’m not really asking for permission Matt,” reasoned Peter, relaxing slightly as if he remembered something. “I’m just warning you.” He’s his own person, and he’s turning 20 in a couple of days.
Matt stared at him, silent. He tilted his head, as if taking Peter in, before smiling slightly, eyebrows lowering fondly. “What font and size?”
“PT Serif,” answered Peter. “I know the tattoo lettering size must be at least 1/2″ tall or more, and I want an uppercase for the beginning of each name, and lowercase for everything else.”
“And, who’s gonna do this?” Asked Matt, patiently.
Peter smiled, “Clint said he knows a guy.”
The parlour was small and dingy, and Peter thought it might be breaking a few regulations, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He just hoped he wouldn’t get an infection. But, Clint’s here and alive, so he’ll be fine.
“Ready?” Asked Clint with a smile.
Grinning, Peter nodded, “ready!”
The two walked in, Peter’s fingers gripping the list, the paper crinkling around his paper, and saw muscular women, covered in tattoos and piercings. “Clint! How are you?!” She asked, as the two neared the desk.
“Ebony, good to see you,” smiled Clint, nodding his head. “I’m here for a tattoo, related to superhero business. Peter, this is Ebony, she’ll be giving you your tattoos.” Clint said, gently patting Peter’s back.
Ebony’s eyes fell onto Peter, looking him over, “and how old is he?”
“I’m turning 20 tomorrow,” shrugged Peter.
Ebony hummed, “and this is superhero related? You seem a bit young.”
Peter smiled, “get that all the time.” He walked over, and handed his list, “think I could get these names tattoos on my right arm?”
Ebony gave him a look, and looked down to the list, carefully reading over the names. She blinked and looked up, eyes widening, as she rubbed her arm, “Spider-Man?” She whispered in amazement.
Peter smiled, flushing a light pink, “hi.”
Ebony suddenly pulled up her sleeve, showing a Spider-Man mask, “I can’t believe it! I’m a huge fan, and Spider-Man is in my tattoo parlour!”
Clint snorted, “think you could do it for him?”
Ebony smiled, and nodded, “of course!”
The black ink was a sharp contrast against his white to slightly tanned skin, and wrapped around his muscles. It was wrapped, healing and setting, and his arm was covered by a sleeve.
His heart was still racing, and he was bouncing in excitement. He couldn’t believe it. Clint had looked at him all proud while he was getting it done, and Peter was blushing a bright red, embarrassed by Clint’s delighted gushing.
His design for a Goober was shaped like a watch, mixed with a web shooter. It was black, but once he got the wiring, and coding down, the outside design would be easy enough to change.
Peter smiled, rubbed his nose, as he eyed the trench coat and hat.
Peter had his sleeve rolled up, and Ned was staring at the tattoos in amazement. “Dude, you’ve been to alternate dimensions!”
Laughing, Peter said, “dude. Alternate Dimensional Beings have been here, and you’ve dealt with it.”
“I remember falling,” MJ said, leaning on the counter, making the two look over, the trio falling silent. “I think it was Peter Three who caught me?”
Peter nodded, “yeah. Yeah, it was.”
MJ smiled, and took his hand, “the tattoos are a good look on you, Peter. Especially since you’re letting Stark go.” She said, her finger tracing over Stark’s name on his skin, which was above his elbow.
Peter scowled, “the trauma that man caused.” He looked down, “is it bad I’m glad he’s dead?”
“No, of course not,” assured MJ, their fingers intertwining together slightly.
Peter looked up, and said, “I know we’re being friends, but I... was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me? This weekend?”
MJ raised an eyebrow, “where did that come from?”
“Yelena and Kate were teasing me about us a while ago, so I thought I should just ask - but if you don’t want — ”
MJ pressed a finger to his lips, “sure.”
“I’ve pretty much finished the suit,” Peter said, rocking on his heels next to Luke.
Luke looked at him, eyebrow raised, “you have?”
Peter nodded, nervously, “yeah. Uh, just a few last stitches. But...”
“But?” Asked Luke, turning to the young man.
Peter sighed, slouching, “that coat and hat - what if I don’t do it justice?”
“But, you already punched a Nazi in it,” reasoned Luke, voice calm.
“Yeah, I know but... Noir was awesome, and I’m just me. He’s so cool, and has so much oomph, and a wheel-horse for the vigilantes.” Peter sighed, “and I’m just me. Nothing special.”
Luke looked at Peter sternly, “you are special.” He took Peter’s shoulders, and squeezed gently, “I have no idea what wheel-horse means, but you deserve that coat and hat. Noir certainly thought so. So, wear ‘em. Fight. This is you now. You’re not in the shadow of a white, old, male billionaire, you’re a broke ass kid from Queen’s, who hates bullies. So, wear it. Noir would be proud.”
“Is this the Black Dahlia sight?” Asked MJ, eyes wide, seeing Peter holding a basket, and a black dahlia flower.
Peter nodded, “I thought we could eat near where she was found. Not there there, but close?” He held out the flower, coughing nervously, “for you.”
MJ took it, a light pink flush appearing in her cheeks, “thank you.”
“Y-you’re welcome.” Peter smiled, “uh, everything is vegetarian, and uh fresh. So, I hope you like it.”
MJ smiled, laughing lightly, “right. Your taste buds pick up everything.”
“Bye-bye McDonalds.”
The sewing machine was in the corner of his room, used. The scissors were put away, his plans were rolled up. The mechanics of the web shoots, of black painted metal were to the side, and the pieces of unused leather were on the floor. A needle and thread were on the table, the needle stabbed in the black thread, and the white for the eyes were on the floor, that part that he needed in place.
As he stared at himself in the long body mirror, taking in the dark red which reminded him of his mentor, the dark blue which reminded him of his hero, the expressive eyes reminding him his comic book variants, and the placement of colours reminding him of Two and Three, staring at the spider with long legs on his chest, Peter put on his black, with spiders, web shooters, and tugged on Noir’s his greyscale trench coat and greyscale fedora hat. He fastened the belt and holster around his waist, and slipped in his pistol, and looked at himself carefully.
The colours melded together in a darker way, more than clashed like before. He was different. And, not one thing reminded him of Stark. It was his.
He was finally Spider-Man.
Turning around, Peter walked out of the room, heading to the living area, and smiled behind his mask, seeing the vigilantes. He had told Luke first that he was finished with the suit, and Luke spread the word, and here they all were. Matt was just confused.
“Can you all just leave?” Asked Matt, rubbing his nose, “this is my apartment and — ”
Jessica saw first, and slowly stood up, “Peter...”
“Hi Jess,” laughed Peter, nervously, his stomach churning.
Frank moved over, “jeez kid. Look at you.” He took Peter’s shoulder’s, and smiled, “you’re so different.”
Wade smiled, and tugged off his mask, walking over, “you look older already, kid.”
Clint teared up, and walked over, “you look like... you.”
“Not like Mini-Stark, or Mini-Anyone,” Danny smiled, looking him over.
Luke smiled, “it’s a good look on you.”
Peter flushed, and smiled, turning to Matt, “Matt?”
Matt silently walked forward, gently pushing past everyone. He gently reached up, and felt the mask, his fingers rubbed against the ridges, and the eyes. He felt the hat, before moving to his shoulders. He dragged his hands down the trench coat, and stopped at Peter’s wrists, feeling each individual leg of the spiders. He then gently touched the spider emblem, feeling the long legs, before he moved his hands to the side of Peter’s waist. A belt. He moved his hand, carefully pressing the gun, before sniffing, smelling the dye. The same red as his.
“Matt?” Asked Peter, a bit more nervously.
“You’re all grown up,” Matt said, a bit teary. What happened to the small, seventeen year old boy that didn’t know how to fight?
Peter smiled, relaxing, “yeah, I am.”
Matt gently held Peter’s face, “go get ‘em, Spider-Man.”
Nodding, Peter straightened up and said, “I won’t let you down, Matt.” He smiled, and walked up the side of the wall with ease, and climbed out.
The last thing they saw and heard for the night was Peter swinging off, his long coat billowing in the wind, and a loud “wooo!” from him, disappearing into the night.
“We did good, right?” Asked Matt, a bit worried for Peter. About how they trained him.
Wade smiled, and patted his back, “yeah. But, he did better.”
Matt’s worry turned into a smile, and snorted, a thought striking him. Peter Parker wasn’t Iron-Spider, or Stark Jr., and he was no longer the byproduct, or the aftermath of Tony Stark.