Chapter Text
Peter was doing pretty good, actually.
He had found a job as a delivery guy, that was paying quite well. Well, for one person, at least. Living alone has its perks apparently.
Although he tended to sometimes forget to pay his rent, they haven't kicked him out yet, so that's good.
He didn't really have anything in his apartment. It was small, and he didn't think he needed that much.
But he had bought a thing or two for himself, cause why not? One of them being the Lego Star Wars Death Star.
He has it on a shelf, and likes to tell himself it was the one he made with Ned. Peter knows trying to lie to himself keeps failing, but he needed some comfort.
Living alone wasn't bad, it was just... Lonely.
He always knew at some point he would have to move out from his house, but he never imagined like...
That.
No one was there to tend to his wounds anymore. No one was there to make him his favourite food after a long mission as Spiderman. No one was there to comfort him when he failed to save people.
Nowadays being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was lonely.
It had been almost a year.
Peter goes regularly to the graveyard to talk to aunt May, and just tell her about his week. He sits down while eats a bag of jelly beans or something like that, and talks.
He goes to Mj's workplace too, quite often. Although, both her and Ned are off to university, living their best lives. The only reason Peter keeps going there is because he hopes one day he's gonna go through that door, and see his old love behind the counter, waiting for his order.
But, he knew he was setting his hopes too high.
There were times he found himself crying while he went through his camera roll and saw the photos he had taken.
Photos he had taken with people who don't remember him, or are dead.
He so missed them.
But this was for the best.
He is Spiderman, an Avenger- or, well, was, an Avenger, but he's still Spiderman.
People not remembering him= fixed timeline!
And they are happy. They don't remember him, so they are happy. They are safe and happy.
Safe, and happy...
But it still hurt.
*
Peter had just finished with a mission.
He had found some drug dealers selling drugs to adults and students behind a school.
There were plenty drug dealers though, and Peter hadn't been expecting that.
One of them, a big tough-looking guy, gave him a good kick on the ribs, and having taken it as an advantage, punched him in the eye.
He managed to catch them though. A nice, spidey package, for the police to have.
But, he had run out of webs, having used the last ones tie them up together.
He had gone in another alley, and changed from his hero suite to normal clothes. Finding people do illegal stuff while buying yourself a new shirt did miracles from time to time. At least now he didn't have to walk around as Spiderman and get everybody's attention. He could just put his usual clothes back on, and voilà!
Now he was walking to a bus stop, rib aching and eye throbbing.
There was a man sitting at the sit nearest to the side, so Peter took the other sit nearest to the side.
He sat and grimaced, setting his backpack and shopping bag on the ground, and putting a hand on where his ribs hurt.
He didn't think he broke anything, or even fractured, but it still hurt a lot.
"Are you alright?" He heard a male, British voice asking concerningly from beside him.
Peter turned his head, and saw a pair of concerned blue eyes, staring at him.
"Yep, I'm fine." He said roughly.
"You don't look like you're alright." The owner of these eyes replied. "Do you need help?"
Peter shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. I just got into a fight, but nothing big, don't worry."
The man's concern decreased a bit, and Peter thought he saw sympathy being accompanied into his eyes. "I understand." He grinned, and his stared back at the road. "You know. I have been into a lot of fights, especially when I was younger."
Peter tilted his head. "How many?"
The man raised an eyebrow and had a small smile as he looked back at him. "I've lost count." He said simply.
Peter frowned while smiling nervously. "How have you lost count? There's no way you've been in so many." Do you count how many people you arrest in a month? Peter asked himself.
"When you are as old as I am, then you kinda do." The man replied with a grin.
Peter's frown deepened. "You're only a few years older than me. How old are you? 25? 27?"
The man burst into laughter, surprising Peter. Once he stopped, he answered. "Actually I look younger than I really am."
"Why, are you 50?" Peter asked dump founded.
"Well. If I told you, it would lose his charm, wouldn't it?" The man asked playfully. "And how old are you? 15? 16?"
"I'm actually turning 18 in a few months." Peter explained himself.
The man nodded once. "Ah. 17, I see."
Peter actually didn't really mind his companion. The dude seemed nice, and kind of funny.
He had blue eyes, pale skin, and messy brown hair so dark, Peter thought it was black.
His clothing was simple. A brown jacket zipped just below his chest, revealing a dark blue shirt from underneath, which was mostly covered by a crimson scarf. He wore black tight jeans with a hole on the right knee, and dark brown ankle-height boots with black laces.
Even though his clothing was nice, Peter wondered how the guy wasn't roasting inside. The weather was weird. The sky was covered with clouds as though it was going to rain any moment given, but it was still warm.
Maybe a British thing. If the guy was even British.
That was when it hit him, that he hadn't introduced himself.
Peter held out a hand, and was all nervous. "I'm- I'm- I'm Peter, by the way. Parker. Peter Parker." He smiled awkwardly.
The man looked at his extended hand, and took the offer and shook it. "I'm Ambrosius Emrys. But people call me Merlin. Nice meeting you Peter."
"Merlin? Why do they call you that?"
"Because I like it." Merlin shrugged. Peter was about to withdraw his hand from the other man's hold, but he was staring at him deep in the eyes, like he was searching his every secret, making the young hero freeze. "Do I know you?" The man asked seriously.
Peter blinked, trying to make himself focus. Had the spell not worked correctly? "Um, no. But I do work as a delivery guy. Have you perhaps ordered any pizza from Domino's in the past five months?" He blurted out, kind of quickly.
Merlin kept looking at him sceptically as he broke their handshake, and put his hands in his jacket's pockets. "Yes." He answered, to Peter's relief, but not breaking eye contact. "Maybe from there."
Peter barely managed to contain a sigh of relief, but perhaps, judging by the older man's confused frown, a smile of relief had made its way. "Well. Glad to meet a guy who likes pizza."
Merlin grinned. "I haven't met anyone who doesn't like pizza. Well, it's not like I have any friends, but you get my point."
Peter chuckled. "Yeah. I don't have friends either, you know." Anymore. His mind completed.
"Shame, really. You seem like a nice person."
"Thanks. You seem like a nice person too."
Merlin smiled. He nodded his head towards the shopping bag. "What's with the bag?"
Peter looked down, and he had completely forgotten it. "Oh, uh, my new shirt. I bought it before the fight."
"Ah." Was all Merlin said. He stared into his face, making Peter uneasy again. Merlin smiled, playfully and sympathetically too. "Your parents won't be very happy to know you got into trouble."
Peter scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, um, my- my parents, um, aren't here anymore." That earned him raised eyebrows in response. "Um, yeah, um, my parents died when I was a kid, and I have been living with my aunt since. Or, actually, had. My aunt is gone too. Now I just live alone." Ok, so maybe Peter had opened up a little too much, based on the man's shock, but that's what you get when you don't get therapy. Even when you can't afford it.
"Wow, kid, I'm- I'm sorry. I had no idea." Merlin said, regret clear in his voice.
Peter slumped back on his sit, eyes fixed on the ground and smiling awkwardly and sadly. "No man, it's ok. It's not like Spiderman could do anything at the moment."
"Spiderman?" The man echoed in surprise.
Peter swallowed. "Um, yeah." A beat of silence passed before he spoke again. "Hey, um... Do you remember that incident with Spiderman, almost ago? The victim? May Parker? Yeah, uh, that was my aunt."
Merlin's shocked features softened, and Peter could see both sympathy and... Regret?
"Sorry kid. It must be hard." He finally said.
Peter shrugged. "It gets easier with time." He muttered.
"Yeah." Merlin nodded, agreeing, surprising Peter. The man cursed under his breath. "Fuck, you're just a kid. My trauma had barely even started back then." He must have seen Peter's confused stare from the corner of his eye, as he turned his head to look at him, and waved what he had just said off, and smiled. "It's nothing, really. Don't bother yourself."
Peter smiled slightly, uncertainly. "Ok, cool." Well. One thing for certain. The guy had PTSD too.
He took a better look on the older guy's face, noticing something. Well, it wasn't any different, but Peter thought he should have noticed the dark eye bags under his eyes, contrasting from his pale skin. Had the guy even slept last night? Or the night before that? Or before that? And so on???
The man rubbing his face, and then his eyes, confirmed it.
"Hey um... You good man?" Peter asked hesitantly.
Merlin gave him a side eye and smiled. He then turned his head to face Peter properly. "Yeah. Just tired." He wrinkled his nose.
Peter raised his eyebrows and played dumb. "Really? Why?"
Merlin folded his arms infront his chest. "Well I haven't gotten a good night's rest, in, well. In a while."
"Oh. Why?" Peter quickly held out a hand. "I'm sorry. I can see that's personal, so you don't have to tell me."
Merlin grinned. "It's alright, no problem." He sighed, and looked at the road. "I have nightmares very often about a particular thing that happened to me. Years ago. I never know when I'm gonna have them."
"So you don't sleep?"
"Oh no, I do sleep." Merlin answered. "Do you know what happens to the human brain when you don't sleep at all?" He asked. "Speaking from personal experience, it's not pleasant. But, us insomniacs, can't find sleep easily." He sighed again. "Sometimes I... 'Forget' to take my sleeping pills because I have a feeling I'm gonna have that nightmare again."
"And? Did you? Have the nightmare, I mean." Asked Peter eagerly.
"I don't know. I don't sleep!" Merlin replied chuckling. "But I'm not always right." He continued when he stopped his chuckle. "For example, last night I had the nightmare again. I stayed there, sitting on my bed, trembling and crying till my alarm from my phone went off to pull me out of my mental breakdown."
Peter stared, not daring to move. It wasn't what he said that startled him. It was how he said it. Like he was talking about a time when he was a child, and had tripped and scraped his knee.
Peter may be unable to afford therapy, but he hoped Merlin could.
The bus came, and stopped right infront of them.
Merlin stood. "Well. Time to go." He walked towards the bus, but stopped midway to look behind him at Peter. "Aren't you coming?" He asked.
Peter shook his head. "Nah. I can walk the rest of the way back home." He hoped. He was fifteen minutes away, and his ribs still hurt. He hoped he had made the right decision.
Merlin nodded. "Alright. Well then. Goodbye Peter. I hope I see you again."
"Yeah. Goodbye." Peter waved at him, and Merlin waved back as he walked inside the bus. The doors closed a second after, and the bus drove away.
Peter took a breath from his nose and closed his eyes shut as a particularly big wave of pain was shot through from his ribs.
He suddenly started feeling a weird warmth on his ribs, soothing the pain away.
When it was gone, the pain in them decreased significantly. Yeah, he would still like to have a bag of ice on the spot, but he was certain he could go back to his apartment easier than he thought he would.
What had just happened?
Meanwhile, he didn't know the man he just met was grining, his eyes golden for a fraction of a second after he reopened them.
"See you another time." Merlin muttered to himself. "Spiderman."