The spider of Burned Up Blv

by B33

Summary:

Everyone is cured and the battle has ended, however, the universe is collapsing all around him and there seems to be no way to stop it, not without a sacrifice. Between his life and the lives of those he loves, Peter doesn't hesitate to ask to disappear. So he swings into the sunrise, sure of his incoming death, only to open his eyes to a world he doesn't recognize.

Gotham is a different kind of hell and Peter can now use this second chance at life to learn how to live it in.

If only he wasn't a magic time bomb.

Notes:

God does think kindly of Peter, that is why he has been marked as one of his bravest soldiers.
No time to rest Peter, get to work. Chop chop : )

Chapter 1

What if I'm not here?

What?

They are coming here because of me, right? Because I'm Peter Parker. So cast a new spell, but this time make it so Peter Parker doesn't exist. So I'm not here.

No.

But it would work, right?

Yeah, it will work... You gotta understand that would mean that everyone who knows and loves you, we- We'll have no memory of you. It'll be as if you never existed.

...I know. Do it.

The golden light of the sunrise went away in a blink, leaving Peter standing in front of a tall building burning up. He stared at the scene, taking in the bright reds and oranges, so similar to the ones a few moments ago but so different at the same time.

"Someone move this kid from here!"

A man screamed and Peter was suddenly being pushed around, pushed away from the suffocating warmth of the flames.

Did the spell fail?

Peter looked around, trying to find Stephen between the weeping faces of the people gathered around the building, and yet, he only found more buildings burning up. The entire neighborhood seemed to be going up in flames around him, a hell of blazing light and screams. So many screams.

He... He still existed. Peter was still alive.

Did Strange do this?

Was he not supposed to stop existing?

Was he-

A pang of pain in his chest made him almost double over. How was he still alive? He was supposed to disappear into the dawn. He was prepared to never look back. To not have to do so. To have no choice

Someone tried to push him out of the way and Peter found himself staring into the eyes of a confused man, staring up at him without understanding how it was that walking into this kid felt like hitting a brick wall.

The man blinked and suddenly the noise was back, along with his awareness. He got up and started running away.

Peter looked up and there it was, the building burning up, looming over him like a question.

Exhaustion ate at his bones. He wasn't in New York anymore, yet, the pain from the fight was still there with him, a strange companion that felt so familiar. The voices of MJ and Ned still resonated in his ears, saying their goodbyes and promises to find a way to bring him back so they could go to MIT together as they planned.

But the building was still there, asking him.

What is he going to do next?

Everyone around him was covered in black stains of ash, weeping, screaming. Running in all directions, overwhelming his senses and making him dizzy. Peter tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, yet, the air around him burned his chest. His spider-sense screamed at him to get away, to get somewhere safe.

But could he?

In a world where Peter Parker shouldn't exist, was he allowed to be Spider-man?

The fire burned with such intensity that it painted the sky orange and Peter noticed that it was night. It was morning in New York, but here the sun was nowhere to be seen.

Another pang of pain spread across his chest and for a moment, he was back in the lobby of Happy's condo, looking into the fire in aunt May's eyes. She told him that he had a gift and she was right, she had always been right.

He never asked permission to be Spider-man and he wouldn't do it now, so he put on his mask and ran into the fire.

The sounds inside the building were overwhelming, thousands of cracking sounds coming in all directions. From the fire, the walls, the hinges; the building was ready to collapse at a moment's notice so Peter couldn't stop. He focused his mind on finding the beating hearts that he could hear under all the cracking and the screams. Everything else became a blur of bright yellow and charred black.

He didn't count how many people he found trapped inside their homes, nor did he count how many tried to escape from him when they saw him for the first time.

Breathing hurt and he wondered if his lungs would be able to heal before jumping into the next building to help. His body ached too, however, he wasn't sure if that was because of the fight or if the falling debris managed to burn him through his suit. Maybe his suit was just falling apart.

It wouldn't be good if that was true.

The cold air was a relief when he managed to step out for a moment, carrying on his back a man who had a twisted ankle. Peter carefully lay him down and turned to the building he just got out of; he couldn't hear any heartbeats inside and he hoped that it meant everyone was safe.

Firetrucks were filling the street now and Peter could see men and women doing their best to extinguish the fires. Help was here. Peter didn't need to do this alone so he sat down, just for a moment to catch his breath and allow his body to heal whatever it was that he could feel in his back.

It was raining now. A small drizzle that wouldn't help with the fire but at least it felt good on his back.

Ambulances could be heard in the distance... Or maybe he was the only one who could hear them, but it was good to know that more help was in the way. The people he helped could get some help, some of them needed a hospital, but at the time he couldn't stay with them.

His vision was blurry. Maybe fighting for his life all night and then doing a rescue mission was not the best of the ideas. He was starting to get hungry too.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He winced when the cold air passed through his chest. After this, he would need to sit down and let his body fully heal, or maybe just take a nap. Yeah, a nap sounded about right.

It took him a moment to stand back up and jump back into the fire, into the next building so he could help the people that were still inside.

His mind melted into a mix of exhaustion and general pain when he finally finished. He couldn't hear any heartbeats inside the buildings anymore and most of the fire was gone because of the firefighters. The police were there too for some reason and while they weren't as efficient as the paramedics, they were helping guide the remaining civilians away from the buildings.

What he wasn't counting on was the yellow tape they were using to keep everyone out of the buildings, even the firefighters who wanted to go back inside and double-check that everyone made it out. Or check on those that didn't.

Peter crouched on top of one of the buildings, frowning at the scene developing below. The firefighters clearly had an issue with what the cops were doing and Peter was with them. He had never stayed long enough for the cops to show up back home, but this didn't look like a normal procedure...

Or was it?

He wasn't home anymore. Maybe this was the way things were done around here, no matter how much he didn't like it.

Peter stared down with a frown. The discussion was escalating, the voices of the cop and firefighter rising, but everyone else seemed prepared to keep both of them separated enough to not require his help.

He still didn't like it.

A headache was well underway, probably because of his lack of sleep and the constant strain, yet, Peter couldn't leave things like this. It didn't matter that things weren't like back home, it still felt wrong to not take a second look inside the buildings. Sighing deeply, he slowly stood up from his position and crawled from the ceiling to the closest window he could find. He just hoped that he wasn't going to regret this.

Luckily enough, Peter managed to quickly investigate the five buildings the police prohibited access to and found nothing but charred belongings and conspicuous amounts of soot. All the other buildings that were affected by the fire remained open for the firefighters so Peter refrained from checking them out in favor of sitting down and take a breather.

This was all messed up and he wasn't sure if this time it was because of him or if this was the result of the spell. Stephen told him that his idea would work, that Peter Parker not existing would solve the problem, so why was he still here? He was… confused.

Maybe he ought to be happy by this because that could mean he had a second chance, but what if the spell went wrong? What about the others? Were his friends safe?

Peter took a deep breath and tried to think.

He didn't know magic, only that it existed and had its own rules. Sometimes, those rules seemed to overlap with science, but he wasn't sure he could solve his current problem with math. What he knew was that the cold was starting to bother him and he couldn't risk a cold right now, so he descended from the ceiling into the first floor of the building.

If he couldn't solve the magic issue, then maybe he could at least follow what he had learned from the Avengers.

Assess the situation and make a game plan.

He was in unknown territory here, not because he didn't know if this was still New York or not, but because he wasn't sure if the spell had worked or not. Regardless, he needed to focus on his survival until he had a better understanding of his situation, which meant getting the basics: shelter, water, and food.

Peter decided to explore the building again, this time focusing on finding somewhere dry enough to crash for the night.

There were small treasures here and there. Clothes that had been stained or caressed by the fire, but were still wearable and, more importantly, dry from the water. They certainly stank, but it was better than nothing so he ignored the guilt he felt taking them and putting the things in a bag so he could keep them.

Despite not being structurally sound after the fire, he did find some rooms that were dry enough for him to pass the night – And he was desperate enough to ignore that part of him that told him it wasn't a good idea to sleep there.

Food and water were harder.

Most cities had social projects to help in cases like these: shelters, food banks, food coupons,... And if not the city, then he could search for a church and see if they were willing to give him food. It had been how he and aunt May had survived their first months when uncle Ben died and his aunt was too devastated by grief to find a job. But most of the time, those were only open during the day…

And Peter wasn't sure he could go out.

Peter was supposed to be dead. No, more than that, he was supposed to stop existing. And yet... And yet, Strange must have found a way to help him, to give him a second chance...

What if....

What if he was sent here because he didn't exist here...

That means that he wasn't in his universe anymore.

Peter let out a bitter chuckle. From the Avengers to space, and now another dimension.

He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself in the present just like he had seen Bruce doing so many times when he was having a rough day. Once he was in a better position he could think about all of this, for right now, his priority was to decide on a place to pass the night and probably find a coat he could use as a blanket.

There were some rooms that were somewhat dry, yet, most of them were heavily damaged by the fire and had lost their door which was not something he wanted to risk the first night. Still, after wandering around, he did find an apartment with the door still on its hinges and considered it the best he would find that night.

It was a rather small place, with one living room that also worked as a kitchen, one bathroom, and one bedroom. It was all he needed in that situation.

With long steps, Peter went to the bedroom and inspected it. He would get so sick with all the soot in the air, he just knew it, yet, the mattress was in perfect condition and exhaustion was eating at him.

Careful to not stain himself even more, he slid the bag with clothes under the bed and made sure it couldn't be seen from the entrance of the room. After that, he removed the stained sheets from the bed and sat in it.

There was still something nagging at him about the whole restricted area business, it was too fishy to let it go… Still, that could wait until he had a nap and maybe some food in his system. No, right now he wanted to check on something real quick.

While he helped rescue people from the fire, he had tried to use his web-shooters and failed. Now that he wasn't rushing, he couldn't just ignore it so he pointed with his arm to the ceiling and tried again.

Nothing.

Peter took a deep breath while he removed the gloves of his suit. The cartridges were intact, somewhat empty after the last fight, but it shouldn’t be a problem. The shooters were intact too, however, they weren't responding whenever he pressed on them to test them out; not even the alert to tell him that something was out of calibration was sounding. The circuits were fried most certainly.

Even just now he could see that the nanobots he had on him were gone too. When did he lose them? He still had them during the battle… Did he lose them on his way here? That just sucked.

Letting out a loud groan, Peter lay down on the bed and put on the gloves again.

From the small list of things he needed, his webs were not the number one priority, at least not when he compared it against food. He would miss it, nonetheless, and was sure that would go crazy in less than a week without swinging.

A week…

Was he really going to be here that long? Or was he going to disappear the moment he started to feel comfortable? Like a big cosmic joke where he was the punchline.

His eyes were heavy and all he could think was that he didn't want to go to sleep. Exhaustion hung over him like a coat, and yet, he was sure of what he would see in his dreams. When uncle Ben died, he saw him in his dreams for weeks, always sitting down on the kitchen table with a newspaper in his hands, like he used to do on Sunday mornings. He would stay there until Peter got closer and then Ben would turn around to see him with the warmest smile.

Peter always woke up devastated before his uncle could say anything to him.

He didn't want to know how May would look in his dreams. If she would smile at him from the couch they shared for so many years, or if she would still be trying to catch her breath in a pile of rubble while everything else in his life falls apart.

And yet, he couldn't help it. His eyes closed one last time and he was out.

Peter opened the door to the Sanctum Sanctorum, dumbfounded when it was a shiny pearly white on the inside. He took some careful steps inside and was even more confused when the white ended up being snow and then he remembered.

“The snow storm” Peter muttered under his breath.

“Yes, this is a memory” Stephen walked from behind him, inviting Peter to follow him to the fireplace with a wave of his hand. “I don't have much time so you need to hear me carefully”

“What is happening? Did the spell fail?”

“Peter, the spell didn't fail. You no longer exist in our dimension. No one knows you ever existed”

Those words broke the smallest of hopes that Peter still had. That meant there was nothing to go back to, his entire life erased in one morning as easy as snapping his fingers.

“But if that is true, why are you here? How-?”

Before he could finish his question, Stephen cut him off. “I know you have many questions, and maybe later I can answer them, but I can't maintain this place for long”

Peter babbled for a second and then fell quiet, nodding to let the sorcerer know that he was listening. Stephen smiled at him, a short thing, and then his face became grave.

“The second spell worked, forget about it. The first spell is active and wherever you ended up, it followed you, but it is at its weakest because it is far from its birthplace. Find a sorcerer and break it, and for everyone's safety, no one can know about Peter Parker”

“W-wait, what does-?”

Just then, the ground under their feet started to shake. The wall and the ceiling started to crack and quickly started to fall apart over them. Peter reached for Stephen but he looked to be getting farther and farther away with each second.

“Time's up, Peter” Stephen told him, but Peter didn't want to let him go. There was so much that he didn't understand of the little information Stephen gave him in those minutes, but more importantly, he didn't want to be alone.

In his desperation, Peter managed to ask one thing. “Why? Why didn't you-?”

Stephen's expression turned soft, smiling sadly at him. 

"You showed me that it was possible to change someone's fate, so I wanted to try”

The debris falling over them overtook everything, obscuring Stephen completely from Peter's view. Peter was alone again and, with this awful discovery, the floor disappeared under him.

He fell into the void.

Chapter 2

Notes:

When was the last time Peter slept before this fic?
Cuz this nap is all he's getting in a bit

Something was off.

With that sensation, Peter woke up from his nap with a gasp, looking around the room searching for the danger.

His spider-sense tugged at him in a soft but constant warning that something was lurking in the shadows, in his territory, which left him in a daze. This wasn't his home, so why did his spider-sense think it was? Yet, that was not the important part since he could hear someone moving through the building.

Groaning softly, Peter left the bed and made sure that he had his mask on. From the angle of the shadows, that nap hadn't been long. Maybe three or four hours if he was being generous. It was honestly better than waking up with his spider-sense screaming at him to get his ass out of bed at an ungodly hour of the night because someone was there to beat him up.

It was an ungodly hour of the night, but at least what he was getting was a warning and not a last-minute notice.

So he walked to the middle of the apartment and focused his senses just like Clint had taught him a while ago, when the war was over and he was willing to visit him one last time. Breathe in, breathe out. ‘Concentrate on your target and let your body follow it with your eyes and your ears, filter out the world around you, and let the hunt guide your mind.’

The world became quiet, leaving only the sound of his breathing in the room. He followed the sounds of the apartment and slowly descended to the floors below him, searching for the person that had woke him up.

Somewhere on the first floor came the echo of a soft heartbeat.

Opening his eyes, Peter walked out of the apartment and quietly went down the stairs to the third floor.

Someone was certainly inside the building, not exactly a surprise since he himself had already stolen a few clothes from the apartments. He didn't have a say if someone was there to rob the place.

However, he could hear the vague sound of buzzing all the way to ‘his’ bedroom, which told him that this person wasn't walking around with just a flashlight or their cell phone in hand. That was one hell of a tazer, or something worse.

So keeping an ear on the heartbeat, he went down the stairs and stopped on the third floor, listening to the quiet echo of the steps

This person moved from room to room, checking each apartment on the first floor meticulously, following a pattern he had seen the agents of Shield use on routine drills: Open the door, check if you can see anything inside from different angles, get inside and do the same for every door; then, and only then, when you are absolutely sure that the place is secured, explore the rooms at detail.

They had training.

By the time the person reached the third floor, Peter was sitting down in the main hallway of the fourth floor, fully invested in the hypnotizing sound of that pattern.

This person was doing an excellent job of being quiet, to the point that, if Peter hadn't been focusing all his senses on them, he would probably miss them. Yet, that wasn't the case, so Peter could hear the thump of their steps and the way the floor creaked subtly under their weight; they were probably on the heavy side, and there was chatter coming from them.

They were using earphones? Ah, no, not earphones. Earphone. Only one. No echo in the sound and seems to be only coming from one side. Who goes around using an earpiece? Not the type of people that go sniffing around in burned-down buildings just to steal a shirt.

He considered a cop for a second, yet, immediately let go of that idea. Cops tended to use radios, at least back in Queens, and those sounded different, cheaper. This sounded cleaner and sharper. He could almost hear the conversation from where he was, almost being the keyword. If he laid down on the floor and put his ear against it, then he might be able to get a glimpse of what this person was listening to. Yet, as exhausted as he was and sleep-deprived, he couldn't concentrate enough on the finer details of the sound; he was already forcing himself enough to give himself a headache while just listening to some steps and heartbeat.

God, he needed that nap so badly.

He couldn't go to sleep now, not when he knew that someone was sniffing around the building and that someone had pretty good training. Peter didn't trust that things would end up well if this person found him there, even if Peter was there just to rest and didn't have a hand in... Whatever this person was searching for.

...What was this person searching for?

That was the right question, wasn't it? What would a person like that be searching for in a burned-up building?

The memory of the strange behavior of the cops came to mind. They knew something, they knew there was something inside of these buildings and were trying to find it. Was that why the buildings were in flames when he got there? Because someone wanted what was inside?

If that was the case, this was a fight between at least two sides.

Peter remained in silence, thinking about what he should do in this case. Right now, he only had assumptions and not a good enough reason to engage in combat, he also didn't want to fight again since he was truly exhausted.

But if it came to the worst scenario and he had to fight, then what would he do?

This person was alone, he would have heard anyone else if they were around so Peter could probably take them out fairly easily. Still, he didn't have his webs to keep them down and he didn't trust himself to use the right amount of strength to knock them out without unnecessary harm.

And that was another thing. If this person had a gun, Peter would be at a great disadvantage without his webs. He would need to come close and personal and that didn't ring right to him at the moment, not to mention that that was a killing tazer this person was walking around with.

They have good training, he reminded himself. He couldn't just start a braw against them and hope for the best in his current condition.

What he needed was more information, and he might just get it the good old-fashioned way.

Making sure that the floor didn't crack underneath him, Peter got up and walked to the nearest window. He took a peek outside, careful not to let anyone see him and, once he was sure there was no one walking on the street, he jumped out of the window and crawled along the wall, following the sound of those steps.

Already knowing that the person was almost done with the current apartment, Peter went to one of the windows of the next one and waited for the other to catch up. It was really impressive that even at that distance and knowing that the person was going to enter the apartment, Peter still had a hard time hearing their steps. That wasn't the case with the earpiece.

“Anything so far?” Came a modulated voice that made Peter grit his teeth. The sound was like sandpaper against his temples just like every fake voice he had heard before in his life. At some point he had gotten used to it, they were pretty much a synonym with Tony Stark, but it took him by surprise here.

"Nothing here so far. These fuckers didn't even use any of the fancy stuff, they just lighted up the place and watched it fall”

“Do you think it’s related to the disappearances from last week?”

A huff. “Why? You going to tell the old man? Sorry but my territory, my case”

The connection was turned off at that moment and Peter listened to the man do the same steps as before because he was sure they were a man. No matter the type of modulator they had on, he could hear the slightest hint of the natural tone behind it which struck him as a design choice. An odd design choice, but a choice nonetheless. It still scrapped at the insides of his head whenever he heard him talk, but at least it wasn't as bad as the other one.

Peter listened carefully but after a while, he descended to a window on the second floor and got inside the apartment. The air was colder now and it didn't sound like he was going to miss anything, so he leaned against the wall and took a moment to think.

He had mixed feelings about what was happening. From the little comments he heard, it sounded like the man was investigating the fire, which was good – At this point, even Peter was somewhat sure the fire hadn't been an accident. Yet, there was no way that the man upstairs was a cop and even when they were talking about disappearances, it didn't mean that they were looking into it for good purposes.

Since there was no way the man was a cop, and no way in hell he was the usual gang member. With that kind of training... A mercenary. Maybe?

That would make some sense.

If the fire wasn't an accident and this was a fight between two sides, then maybe one side hired the mercenary and told him to burn down the building because it was the hideout of the other side, and now that the job was done, he was on a mission to either retrieve the... The-? The thing or get clues of what the mystery thing was.

And if he wanted it then Peter wanted it too, preferably before the man put his hands on it.

Still, he wasn't sure how he was going to do that. The man was being extremely meticulous with his investigation and hadn't found anything yet, so what could Peter do that the man couldn't? Not to mention that he still didn't feel confident engaging with the other.

His spider-sense hadn't pinned the man as a threat, at least not yet, so Peter decided to do a little bit of friendly stalking, following the man around the building, always staying one floor or a few apartments away from him so he wouldn't be found.

He hoped that this way he could simply jump into the room, take the man by surprise, and snatch the mystery object from his hand in case the man found something of interest. Yet, the hours kept passing by, Peter was almost falling from his hiding place due to drowsiness, and the man hadn't found anything.

The sudden static woke him up enough to notice the heartbeat walking toward the stairs of the sixth floor. “Moving on. This place is useless”

Without waiting for an answer, the connection was disconnected again, and his steps echoed through the stairs of the building, lulling Peter back to that state of half-awareness. Minutes later, Peter could hear the sound of a motor coming back to life and driving away – Sounded like a motorcycle.

First real win of the second day in this new world: not getting his ass kicked in the middle of the night by a random mercenary. Things were looking up for good old Spider-man.

Peter allowed himself to fall from the corner in the ceiling he was using to hide – Yes, hide. No, he hadn't chosen it because he could easily curl himself to sleep in there. He was a professional on a job and- Ok, yeah, he was falling asleep. Sue him.

Now, he didn't have proof of this, but he had a feeling that the man only checked this building and not the others, and if he did, he did this one with special care. Of the five buildings, this one was somehow special for him and, by proxy, to Peter.

Still, Peter refused to check the building again, since nothing would change the fact that the only things remaining here were damaged homes and lots of soot. It had been confirmed by the mercenary too after long hours of work.

So what was different about this building? What did this one have that the others don't?

And why wasn't he going to sleep already?

Heavy-eyed, he dragged himself to one of the windows and blinked a few times when all he saw were heavy clouds of smog. He couldn't see the stars or the moon, so he couldn't use that trick Steve showed him to know the time. Was it worth it to stay awake any longer?

He had at least the bare minimum to start investigating in the morning and the buildings weren't going to grow legs overnight and run away. There was still work to do here, all his instincts told him so, yet, his mind was a lethargic mess. All his thoughts kept going back to wanting to sit down anywhere, close his eyes, and sleep.

All he needed was a good nap, or maybe go into a coma for a day, and then he would be able to think.

Since he was alone again, Peter took the stairs and walked back to the apartment where he had been sleeping before. At the time, he had been worried that the man would see that someone had been there, so he rushed over to take the bag and throw the sheet over the bed. Now that he was no longer in danger of being found out, he stood in front of the bed and stared at the new black stains all over the mattress. The impeccable mattress.

Against his common sense, he let himself fall over the bed, not caring about the soot anymore or the bag that was still in his arms. A small nap and he would be alright. Everything would be alright. So he curled up on the bed, bag tangled between his arms like it was a stuffed animal, and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him over.

Despite the cold breeze, it felt good to be there. Weightless and over the soft bed.

Peter snuggled against the bag and let himself go.

...

The basement.

Peter sat straight up.

On the first floor of the building, the space under the stairs was filled up. That was different. He had been inside of the five buildings and only this one was missing the door to the basement.

The three buildings, plus the other two across the street had similar designs so why did this one have that door blocked while all the other didn’t?

Just like that, Peter stumbled out of bed and onto the stairs, rushing to get to the first floor.

There must be a secret entrance somewhere around there, or maybe the door had a secret mechanism to open it; however, Peter no longer had the patience needed to search for it, so he put his hands where the door should be and pushed.

Solid concrete fell in pieces under his hands and Peter found the missing stairs.

His first impression was that the place reeked of something he couldn’t pinpoint. His second opinion was that that was never a good sign.

Truly trying to be careful and not stumble on his way in, Peter went through the hole and followed the stairs with his eyes.

A light was on in the basement, softly illuminating the base of the stairs. Peter paused, confused by the fact, and stayed still for a moment, focusing on the sounds around him. It was eerily quiet.

This was either the setting for a horror movie or true crime, and he wasn’t liking his odds.

Taking a deep breath, he resumed his way down the stairs, keeping an eye for any movement at the end of the stairs but never catching anything out of the ordinary. Once he reached the end he found out that the actual entrance to the basement was blocked with iron bars. He inspected them quickly, at first thinking that this was a strange door, but found no way to open it; someone had simply decided to block the way...

So how was the light on?

Peter turned to the only light down there. It was old with a thin chain that needed to be pulled to turn the light on.

He blinked, slowly processing what that meant.

Ignoring the sinking dread growing in the pit of his stomach, Peter turned his attention to what he could see inside the basement.

Beyond the metal bars was a relatively small room, compared to the first floor of the building. It looked just like what Peter would expect from a basement: rusty boiler way too small to offer warm water to everyone in the building, brick walls covered in mold due to water leaks on the pipes crossing the ceiling, and floor that had never seen a broom.

What was interesting were the plastic tables with what seemed to be a makeshift chemistry lab, with several cardboard boxes piled under the tables.

So this was the secret that started it all then. Or at least it looked like it.

Peter looked at the bars. They looked solid enough that it would be a problem for anyone without the proper tools, but cheap enough that it shouldn't be a problem for him so he firmly grabbed them and pulled them out of his way. He ended up way too winded once he managed to make a hole big enough for him to cross over.

Ok, this was going to be the last thing he did and then he would go to sleep.

Trying to not slip with... Whatever was on the floor, Peter got closer to the tables.

There was something incredibly nostalgic by the way seeing the setup woke that manic glee he always got when Tony called him down to his lab to show him his latest idea; to show him something that he put together only so Peter could take it apart and put it back together in a completely new way. It was a type of excitement that Peter hadn't felt in a while.

And it hurt.

Peter shook his head.

He could think of that later but not right now.

Almost none of the chemicals on the table were labeled and the ones that were, well, they were certainly a choice; they didn't mix well most of the time but given that the mix on the table hadn't exploded, then something from the unlabeled bottles was stabilizing the it.

Along with the bottles were several pieces of paper, scattered between the tables with no clear purpose. Hoping to get an idea of what the mystery project was, Peter gathered the papers and took his time to read through them.

Expecting a breakdown of the compound, he got something wildly different instead.

The pieces of paper had scribbles of someone's life from the last two weeks. From cursing a lot about someone referred to as ‘The Bat’, to discovering that their wife was having an affair with someone named Lou. Some sheets did have some attempts to explain the formula and the steps taken to make the mix, but they quickly dissolved into rants about the affair between Lou and the wife, on how the author would teach them a lesson, to the point that some of the pages were only angry gibberish that Peter couldn't read.

This... Was not what he had been expecting, but it gave him a better idea as to why someone set fire to the building. The author took the formula and hid it here as revenge, and someone tried to force him out of hiding.

...

Peter was making so many assumptions with this, but he was hardly a detective and the only time he tried to be one it didn't pan out well for him.

Leaving the papers alone for now, Peter walked around the tables in search of something else that could be important.

Between the boxes under one of the tables, he found a notebook. Inside were several breakdowns of the mix, with pages dedicated to starting all over again with different chemicals each time. Whoever was working on this knew what they wanted, but Peter wasn't so sure of what that was; with the chemicals written, he could recognize most of them, yet, there were a few here and there that he had never heard before – That was a little disappointing but he could at least pat his back and tell himself that maybe it was something from this dimension, and not just his ignorance mocking him.

The notebook had several missing pages, yet, that was hardly a problem; he could easily match the notebook with the other pages so it wasn't a mystery

No, the mystery was to know what he was going to do next.

Whatever this drug was, it was meant to be consumed and it would melt a hole into whoever was brave enough to take it. From the notes, it seemed that that was kind of the point? Peter squinted at the handwriting, trying to decipher if he was reading things right. Taking into account that he didn't know some of the chemicals and that there were parts of the breakdown that he could hardly read due to how messy it was, it was hardly a surprise if he ended up reading things wrong.

Peter let out a long sigh.

He had the pages and he had the notebook. The chemicals could stay down here until the morning when he had more brain to decide how to dispose of them.

So what else was there?

The room was practically empty besides the tables. The fact that the floor was covered in a special mystery sauce was nudging him in the back of his head, but the only light in the room was not good enough to get a better look at it, so he ignored it for the most part.

He was, of course, also ignoring the tunnel at the back of the room.

With no lights inside it, the tunnel became a complete dark void after just a few meters, and whenever he stared at it his spider-sense would scream and then calm down like it wasn't sure if what was at the end of it was dangerous or not. So Peter didn't want to go in there and find out.

But with nothing else to do other than to see where the tunnel went and his inability to leave good enough alone, Peter took the first step inside the tunnel and waited. When nothing happened, he continued walking.

The tunnel was narrow, wide enough so Peter wouldn't touch the walls with his shoulders while walking. That strange smell was overpowering here and Peter had to cover his nose over his mask because of how intense it was. He still couldn't pinpoint what it was, yet, it reminded him a little bit of the smell of formaldehyde.

Peter expected to be walking in the dark for a while, yet, he was surprised to find the end of the tunnel after fifteen minutes. The thing covering the floor was thicker here and there was more of it, amounting to a gooey mass that sounded wet whenever he stepped on it by mistake, which happened a lot in the middle of the dark. Luckily, the metal stair attached to the end of the tunnel wasn't covered with the weird mix, so Peter didn't hesitate to climb it and get out of there. He punched the metal door open and took a peek outside, finding that the secret entrance was in an alley, right beside a column that hid it quite well.

Sure that no one was there to see him, Peter climbed out as silently as possible and looked around. The exit was right by the end of the alley, leaving just one way to walk out of there, except that at the other side of the column was a metal door where a plastic sign read 'Staff Only' in faded letters. Not wanting to mess around with that right now, Peter walked to the entrance of the alley and stared at what he was sure was the top of the buildings he had come from... The real entrance to the basement was at least two streets over. That was way more clever than he expected.

Wait.

Is that the sun?

Notes:

So I may have lied in my own comment and the spell-thing gets explained a little in the next chapter
Also, damn, I forgot the chapters for this mini-arc are quite short. It's a surprise they even make sense, I wrote the first 4 chapters in 4 days and only because I needed to go to work xdd

Also, the breaks of my paragraph are all messed up now, I didn't even notice in my first chapter : (
I'm too lazy to change it but does anyone know a better way to pass text from Google Docs to AO3??

Anyway!
Hope you like this chapter! We are speedrunning Peter's detective arc : 9

 

Once again, this is for me
This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

Chapter 3

Holy shit, that is actually the sun.

It was already dawn.

Peter stood there for a quiet moment, slowly processing that the night had gone by and he was still awake. Three hours. Three hours of sleep was all he got in the last two days. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn't something new, he was used to all-nighters with Tony and Bruce – Or, well, used to be. Yet, he sincerely thought he had more time.

Trying to keep things simple so he could convince his exhausted mind to not stare at the sky for the rest of the day and move, Peter looked around the trash for something that looked solid enough and found a rusty piece of pipe that might work so he took it. He climbed down the stairs carefully, taking his time to close the door and getting it jammed with the help of the pipe, and walked back to the basement.
Once he was back, he made sure to put the pile of papers inside the notebook and went through the metal bars, pulling them back into place and leaving them crooked. Peter made a face, yet, there was nothing he could do about it, or more like, he wasn't open to spending the next ten minutes trying to right them and leave them like they were before.

This would have to be enough.

When he got back to the apartment the first thing he did was to get the bag and hide the notes under the clothes. Everything inside the bag was stained black so he was extra careful to not get the notes stained too, he wasn't sure what he was going to do with them but had enough brain to know that no one should get their hands on them.

Peter clapped his hands once he put the bag back under the bed. It was done. If anyone came back and found the huge hole under the basement and somehow got inside, they would still be missing the most important part.

Next step of the plan was to get out. The question was how?

Despite how tired he was, Peter was aware that he needed food even more. He could still feel the bruises under his mask and suit which meant that at some point in the night his healing factor had stopped working. He needed rest but the energy he could get from the food would be enough to kickstart it again and the acid feeling in the mouth of his stomach was a painful reminder of his fast metabolism. If he started drastically cutting his calorie intake right away, he would have even more pressing problems than an unknown drug that might or might not be already circling the streets.

However, even if he had forgotten about it momentarily, he still remembered his dream with Strange which made things even more confusing.

Had he talked with the real Stephen in his dreams? Or was he just delirious?

It felt real. At least real enough to wake him up from his nap, but several nightmares had accomplished that before. Even if he did speak with the real Stephen, how did that happen? And why did the sorcerer still remember him?

There was a part of him that wanted it to be real, because it would mean that he wasn't completely alone. That he didn't lose all connection with his home. That maybe, someday, he would be able to go back and... and what?

Strange had been clear. The second spell worked, no one knew he even existed in the first place...

No. Even if that was true, he could start over. There was no reason for him to not try to reach out to his friends, to the rest of the Avengers, to Happy, and explain what happened. Crazier things had happened before so why not believe his story? He had won them over once, he could do it again.

So let's pretend that he talked with the real Stephen, what did ‘don't let anyone know about Peter Parker’ mean?

He couldn't tell anyone he was Peter Parker, clear as day, but what else?

How much of him counted as Peter Parker?

What if even saying his name breaks this place too? His home broke because he was there, so how much of himself would be needed for this dimension to consider that Peter Parker existed and the spell started running again?

Peter didn't know.

He wasn't going to give up on Spider-man, not in a hundred years. So maybe... Maybe he needed to give up on Peter Parker entirely.

At least until he found someone to break the spell.

It took him a while to realize that he had been staring at the floor without blinking, and when he noticed it, Peter decided he needed to be sitting down for this.

Giving up on Peter Parker. What did that entail? His name, of course. His face too, probably. But what else? What else made up Peter Parker? His past, for sure; he couldn't speak about anything he ever did as Peter Parker, couldn't speak about anything that happened to Peter Parker.
Peter looked at his hands and wondered if the world would crumble if someone ever got his fingerprints. What about his blood? Or his teeth? Technically they were used to identify people, so would they count?

What about something more abstract like his personality? Could he follow his dreams here?

His dreams were filled with the faces of people who were long gone, so probably not.

Peter took a stuttering breath.

He passed a hand over his head, trying to brush his hair with his fingers and then remembered that he had the mask on. He would need to keep the mask on as long as possible.

It shouldn't feel this heavy and constricting in his chest but it felt like there was something pressing against him and he couldn't breathe. Like a ceiling falling over him all over again, yet this time he would need to stay down and bear with it – He could do it. If it meant keeping this place safe, he could do it.

It just made things a little more difficult for him, but that was just Parker's luck so he would have to cope with it.

Not feeling comforted at all, Peter stood up from the bed and kneeled on the floor so he could take the bag out for a moment. No matter how hard it felt, the decision was taken, so all he needed to do was to follow through with it.

“Easy” he whispered to the air, his voice breaking a little at the end.

Peter took a deep breath and focused.

For now, what mattered were the basics: get food and get some rest. Everything else he would have to deal with when he crossed that bridge.

He took out a sweater from the bag and palmed it to get as much soot out as possible and then put it on. It wouldn't be orthodox and going out with his mask on would raise more than one pair of eyebrows, but Peter hasn't been embarrassed to go out in full costume since forever. It kind of came with the job. Which was perfect because from now on he was Spider-man and only Spider-man.

Finding a soup kitchen was way easier than he expected and yet, there he was, standing in front of a one-floor building with a sign with the name so faded that it was impossible to read it.

There was a long line inside so he quietly took his place at the end, getting a double look from the man in front of him. The man raised an eyebrow at him and took one step away from Peter. When he reached the front, the man serving the food also raised an eyebrow.

"You going to a costume party?" He asked reluctantly. The man seemed to want to shy away from Peter, yet, after a moment of hesitation, he gave in and handed Peter a plate and a cup with water.

"You could say so, I just feel comfortable in this" Peter shrugged, taking one step back to give some space to the man. "If I finish, can I take seconds?"

"If you finish, you get in line again, and if there is still food then you can have seconds" the man explained, still staring at Peter unsure. "Is a little too early for Halloween, don't you think? And what about the black stains? Is that part of the character?"

Peter looked down at his sweater. Now that he was outside, it looked way dirtier than back at the building. “Kind of?” He tried to lie but then backtracked. “Actually, I need to do laundry, do you know of any laundromat near here?”

“Not near, but if you go out, turn left and follow the street, you'll find one after a couple of streets” The man pointed vaguely in the direction he meant and, once Peter nodded, he continued. “Nice, now move kid, you're holding the line”

"Thanks, sir"

As much as he wanted to down the plate there and then, and just get in line again, Peter walked to the farthest corner of the building and sat down on the floor facing the wall. He hunched over and carefully lifted his mask, just enough so he could eat. It was quite an uncomfortable position, but at least he was sure that no one would be able to see his face this way; also, it wasn't like he had to hold it for too long since he devoured his portion in less than ten minutes. He downed the cup of water in one go and got up.

Just as he was told, he got in line again. When he reached the front, the man was raising his eyebrow for a whole other reason.

"Kid, do you always eat like that?"

"Sorry, I was starving" Peter answered sheepishly.

"No, not that. I mean the-" the man hunched over, imitating Peter for a second.

"That? Uhm, I'm a little shy" he lied. "When I was little I couldn't even walk out of the house. I'm doing better now, I think. Hey, at what hour does the kitchen close?"

The man didn't seem to believe Peter. Or maybe he was trying to put in context how going out in full costume was better than not going out at all.

"We are open from seven a.m. to one p.m., but there is a place two streets over that will give you dinner if you ask nicely"

Peter nodded. "Thanks"

"Yeah kid, try to not get mugged"

Finishing his second serving took just as long as the first one and despite feeling a lot better than before, his stomach still hurt a little. Peter thought of the possibility of forming in line a third time, but he knew that forming a second time was already pushing his luck and the patience of everyone else in the building, especially those who were still in line for the first time. He was used to running on a deficit anyway, and the important part was that his healing factor was working again, itching below his skin.

With the soup kitchen so close to the building, breakfast and potentially lunch was no longer an issue. That meant all the basics were covered to the best of his capacities, at least until he managed to get something more stable; it was done in less than 24 hours so Peter felt quite proud about it.

Point two of his to-do list was to pass some hours knocked out at the building, edging on going into a small coma, so he walked out of the kitchen and made his way back to the building. If he had luck, the pipes would have survived the fire so maybe he could take a quick shower before his nap and even give a quick wash to his new clothes since he didn't have money for a laundromat.
He was about to cross the street when his eyes landed on a woman who was carrying way too many grocery bags in her arms. Almost half a street from her were two men clearly following her.

Changing directions immediately, Peter walked to her.

"Good morning ma'am! I'm your friendly neighbor, Spider-man. Do you need help with those?" He greeted her, walking beside her and pointing at the bags.

The woman's eyes shoot down to him, wide with shocked confusion.

"Do not touch me" was the only thing she told him before taking a step away from him.

The woman tried to organize the bags in her arms, trying to not let them slip. Her forearms were red from the friction with the plastic and they were already trembling from the effort.

“Won't do, ma’am” Peter answered, raising his hands so the woman could see them at all times. “I just wanted to help, scout’s word”

“Beat it, kid, I have enough things to worry about as it is”

Ah, she was aware then.

"I can keep you company if you want? Until you are sure no one is following you” he offered. “We can wait inside a store so you aren't alone”

The woman bit her lip and did her very best to not turn around and look at the men who were following her. She stared down at Peter with palpable desperation, if only because she needed to sit down and rest.

“What’s the catch? How much do you want?” She asked harshly, which Peter had expected.

As Spider-man he never asked for compensation for anything he ever did, it was kind of his rule and his ideal to follow May’s dream of helping others without asking anything in return. It was what true heroes did.
Yet, when he started, he met a lot of people who didn't believe him at first – One of the many reasons he had a rocky start when he came up with Spider-man. It was Bruce, from all people, who told him that most people expected others to never do anything for free, since only scammers went around promising the world for nothing.

It was easier to put a token price to it and drop it later.

“A dollar”

That shocked the woman so much that she stopped walking to truly look at Peter for more than a second. “A dollar?”

“Two if you are feeling generous” added Peter.

“You're kidding”

“I would honestly do it for free, but I don't think you’ll believe me if I say that” Peter confessed, taking a quick look behind them. Those two were still following them. “Tell you what, you choose the store, any store you want, and I'll make sure you can sit down without getting those bags stolen”

Still in disbelief, the woman nodded. They walked a couple of streets more until the woman pointed with her head to a glass door which Peter politely opened for her. It was a laundromat, which was incredibly convenient for him; he didn't have any money with him but maybe one day he would have some to clean his clothes. In the meantime, Peter helped the woman leave her bags on the floor and sat down with her; the manager walked to them but he seemed to know the woman so they didn't get kicked out.

They waited together, slowly changing from small talk to an actual conversation until Peter could hear the men walking away. He didn’t want to look too suspicious so, after some minutes, he stood up with the excuse to take a look outside and came back with the good news for the woman.

“Are you sure you don't need a hand with those?”

The woman shook her head, carefully taking her bags once she felt safe enough to walk back home. “Is ok kid, thank you so much for waiting with me”

“It was nothing, I like helping around” Peter hoped that she could hear the smile in his voice.

After that, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that he was needed out there so he roamed around instead of returning to the building, offering a hand to anyone that seemed to need it.

Having to go on foot limited the area that he could cover which was slightly irritating; he could hop onto the ceilings and try to go a little bit faster that way, but it looked like something was going down on every alley and in every street, all at the same time, so he walked instead. He was scaring fewer people than he did back home when he started, guess not falling from the skies proclaiming that he was there to help did wonders for first impressions, and he got a feeling that he was going to need it. Most people didn't trust him, an expected issue, however, he started trying to approach the people he wanted to help with a little more tact after the second time someone pulled a gun at him.

No one had pulled the trigger, but there had been some close calls.

Nonetheless, some extra explaining that he wasn’t there to rob them and making himself look smaller than he was, was enough to lower people’s fear – Not enough to lower their guns, mind you, but enough for them to allow him to help. Yeah, they still kept their eyes on him at all times, yet, no one ended up hurt.

The sun was setting when he finally took a moment to sit down and breathe. When the man at the soup kitchen had told him to try not to get mugged, Peter thought he was joking; an entire day later, five mugg attempts stopped, including one where he was the victim, that comment sounded like a real concern.
Back at home he had never stopped so many muggings in a day. Of course, there were little things here and there, and he had been held at gunpoint more than once, but they always felt like isolated incidents instead of the norm. Here? Peter was starting to understand why people were so distrustful.

What a city.

Gotham.

The stories the people shared with him the moment they clocked him as an outsider were wild. Some sounded like they were trying to scare him off, but he couldn't deny that maybe an alligator man was living in the sewers and a woman made out of plants tried to destroy the biggest building last week; maybe the city was indeed cursed like that old man told him. New York had aliens and a supreme sorcerer, so it wasn’t like he could doubt anything people told him.
Still, a lot of the stories were bitter, full of loss and suffering, and Peter was convinced that the citizens of Gotham were incredibly strong people. They keep going on with their lives despite the infinite violence they talked about, fighting to keep their families together and safe. At some point, Peter needed to research more about the city, but hearing their stories... Peter couldn't stop himself from admiring these people, even with his growing fear of the city's alleyways.

It didn't ease the pain in his chest after what happened less than a day ago, but all he could do was cling to the hope that he might learn from them and their stories...

All in all, the afternoon resulted in quite an enlightening experience, however, he should probably change gears soon and put his attention back on that basement.

It didn't take long to return to the building, its blackened top looming slightly over the other ceilings around it like the neighborhood's North Star. All Peter needed to do was to look up and search for it to guide himself around, always staying close as if the building had its own gravity that pulled him. As absurd as it sounded, despite how little time he had passed in there, that was his only source of stability and a promise of a safe point, so he was hesitant to leave it behind so soon to explore more of the city.

The illusion of safety was broken the moment he took a step inside the building and the smell of gunpowder flew around him. Someone had been there.

Peter immediately ran to the hole under the stairs and went down to the basement, just to find the metal bars in place and the chemicals still on the tables. Nothing had been disturbed.

To be sure, Peter pulled the bars out of the way and checked the room, yet all the footprints he found were his, from the night before. He walked down the tunnel but found the metal door at the end still jammed.

Returning to the basement, Peter stared at the tables contemplating what to do. Someone had been there and, independently if they knew what they were searching for or were there just to make a quick buck from the belongings left behind, they probably noticed the big-ass hole on the wall. It didn’t matter if they saw the basement or not, sooner or later someone would come to investigate and find it. He couldn't let them get their hands on the chemicals or the notebook, no matter who they were.

Knowing that the best he could do was to dispose of the chemicals, he pulled the metal bars closed behind him and walked to the tables, pulling the cardboard boxes out from underneath them. Most of them were empty, while a few had a few labeled bottles with new chemicals that he hadn’t seen mentioned in the notebook; still, he couldn’t find the original bottles for the compounds that were already loaded into the beakers and flasks. that was a huge problem for him. The mere fumes of all these chemicals would give the nastiest poisoning to your everyday man, Peter surviving it by pure luck and the miracle of his body working overtime every second that he was down there. Thinking about it, maybe he should have taken care of this right after breakfast just like he had planned, but he couldn’t change that now.

Considering his options, he walked down the tunnel and freed the metal door. Climbing out, he took a glance at the alley and was glad that the dumpsters in his memory weren't just part of his imagination. Peter walked around the dumpsters, always keeping an eye on the door with the 'Staff Only' sign. Ideally, he needed plastic buckets like the ones used for paint, but luck was not on his side this time so he resigned to taking as many plastic bottles as he could find and throwing them down the metal door and into the tunnel.

With his prize secured, he climbed down the metal stairs, making sure to jam the metal door on his way down, and returned to the basement with the bottles in his arms.

Disposing of chemicals was a process he was familiar with, had it done several times before for school, and then when he became Spider-man and started playing around to make his webs. Yet, he didn't have the proper containers nor the needed forms to do it; not to mention that he wasn't sure of where the closest waste management site was or if that was a thing in Gotham... Anyway, he still remembered that, at least in Queens, when going to a site wasn't an option, handling the chemicals to the firefighters was a good plan B since they would ensure the containers reached the waste site.

So he started working, methodically pouring the chemicals into the bottles and carefully filling out the boxes with them. In the end, he had three boxes full of bottles.

All he needed now was to find a fire station and probably explain why he had three boxes full of unlabelled chemicals. Try to not get flagged as a failed terrorist, you know, like a fun afternoon activity.

His spider-sense flared in that moment, screaming at him to get out of the basement. Without hesitation, Peter left the boxes under one of the tables and made sure to close the gap between the metal bars when he ran up the stairs, just in time to see a car pulling up right outside of the building and three men getting out.
They didn't spot him right away so Peter ran into one of the apartments and stayed close to the door, hanging on the ceiling and using a bookshelf to hide from immediate view.

Peter listened to the three men walk through the broken front door of the building, loud and heavy over the floor. It struck him as odd, the man that had been there last night had been almost silent, efficient with each movement; these people were so loud that Peter could hear the way that the man in the middle favored his left leg, the way the one in the right was having a hard time breathing, doing a good effort to just put air in his lungs, and the man on the left was walking a little behind from the other two. He was the backup.

Huh. Guess whoever hired the mercenary ran out of money.

"Motherfucker, someone was already here" the man in the middle cursed loudly, approaching what Peter was sure was the hole under the stairs.

The man on his right followed. The one on the left stayed by the front door.

"Fuck, what is that smell?" Right asked out loud. Peter too, random criminal, Peter too. "So what now?"

"Go down" Middle ordered.

"Fuck no, Lou. It smells like something died down there" Right answered.

A gun clicked. "I told you to go down"

Right cursed at Lou, but moments later, Peter heard his steps echoing. Right was going downstairs, to the basement.

And was that the famous Lou? The ‘I slept with your wife’ Lou?

Peter had an interesting opportunity on his hands, but he wouldn't have a lot of time if he decided to take it so he would have to time it right.

He focused his hearing, catching two more heartbeats outside of the building. So Left was not the only backup. Made sense. With Right downstairs and Lou distracted with him, Peter was sure he could take out Left before Lou reacted. Dealing with the others outside would be trickier, but he could easily handle it.

With a plan in mind, Peter was about to move when he heard one more vehicle approaching and two shots.

The plan fell apart immediately. More shots resounded outside and Peter could hear the two men outside run into the building. Several guns were being shot and Peter wasn't sure who was shooting who, but everyone inside the building was screaming and cursing.
Trying to think fast, Peter moved from his hiding place and took a peek outside the apartment. He could see three people close to the front door, shooting at whoever was outside of the building.

However, Peter locked on the two people a little behind the first group, aiming their guns. One of them was Lou.

Plan B, then.

Peter crawled through the ceiling at full speed, trying to be as silent as possible, yet, one of the two men saw him coming.

"What the fuck is that?" The man pointed his gun at Peter and pulled the trigger.

That was Lou.

Peter dodged two bullets before dropping between the two men. Right turned to him, ready to fire at him, but Peter punched him right in the stomach and then elbowed his face. He turned to Lou, who wasn't as shocked as Peter expected but that didn't matter. Lou tried to hit him with his gun and Peter moved aside, taking advantage and taking Lou's wrist with enough force to force him to drop his weapon.

At that moment, one of the three people at the door noticed what was happening behind them and shot in Peter's direction.

If Peter tried to take them out all by himself he would be screwed up. He could already hear Right trying to get up behind him, and despite the other two still being busy with whoever was outside, one lucky shot would be enough to put him in serious trouble.

Good thing that Peter wasn't planning on staying.

Whoever was outside was still shooting at the inside of the building, and Peter could hear the heartbeat slowly getting closer. The beating maintained itself even, the only thing keeping itself calm in such chaos. It unnerved Peter even more than the guns pointed at him.

Peter took Lou by the neck of his shirt and pulled him down, forcing him to duck at the same time as him, and then crawled on the floor all the way to the entrance of the first apartment without letting go of Lou. He dragged the man through the floor, who was doing his best to stop Peter from taking him and leaving scratch marks all over the floor.
Aware of how little time he had, Peter threw Lou over his shoulder, climbed out of the nearest window, and crawled a few floors up. They were at the back of the building so Peter hoped that he would be safe from the shooting happening at the front.

"I'm sorry, but I'm kind of working with a deadline here so I don't think I can make it to the ceiling. I promise I'll give the proper experience next time" Peter commented and turned around. From here, he could see a good portion of the neighborhood. The sun was already going down.

Funny, this felt like it should be happening during the night.

Lou screamed in fear when Peter shrugged him off, only to catch him by the leg before he could fully fall.

"Oops! Sorry, I'm not used to hanging like this but there is always a first time. I will drop you if you move around too much" Peter threatened.

Interrogations were never Peter's forte.

Of course, he had hung people upside down before but Bucky and Natasha told him he was too soft and tried to teach him the basics. Be confident, be imposing, be creative. Right now, Peter wasn't sure if he could be any of those, not when he was sincerely worried that he would drop the man in his hands by accident and with his spider-sense demanding him to do something about the incoming threat from downstairs.

"Alright Lou, welcome to game night! I know it is a little early but, as I said, we are on a deadline. So first question, What's in the basement?"

"Like I'm going to tell you" The man answered with bite in his voice, momentarily forgetting his fear.

That won't do.

Peter adjusted his grip on the man and threw him in the air, making sure that Lou would do a few spins before falling back down. Lou was trembling when Peter caught him by the front of his shirt. Peter's hands also trembled but couldn't let Lou know he almost missed him.

"Bold words from the man hanging by a thread" He tried to tease. "Now, again. What's in the basement?"

"I don't know! Lawren was the one working on it. He never let us inside but he told us that he knew how to make us like that freak, Clayface, but the fucker ran away when the Bat got too close!"

"...Ok, I don't know who those are, but I think that's on me" Peter admitted, getting a baffled stare from the man. "Anyway, where is Lawren, Lou?"

"N-no one knows, no one has seen him in over a week. We were supposed to rat him out, but even after the fire he didn’t come out"

Peter nodded.

And then noticed that he couldn't hear more gunshots on the lower floors.

"Is there anyone else working on this project of yours?" he rushed to ask, trying to pinpoint where in the building was the steady heartbeat.

"We have a guy, but he's not even half as good as Lawren. Look man, if you want it we can share the stuff with you, we can be in the same group. Our guy is close to replicating what Lawren had"

The stairs, third floor. The heartbeat was moving steadily. Peter checked where he was hanging from. Fourth floor. He didn't have long.

"No thanks, where's your base?"

"I can't tell you that, they're going to kill me!" Peter pretended to let go of Lou, and Lou clung to Peter's arm. "176 Daley Street! Between Donovan and Saint Patrick’s Church!"

His spider-sense flared and Peter moved in time to avoid a bullet in his arm. The gunshot came from below.

"Time's up! Thank you for participating. Please be loud when you fall"

Peter didn't even look down at the heartbeat. He threw Lou inside the building through one of the windows, staying there just enough to be sure to hear his body fall on the floor, be sure that Lou was inside and safe. Another gunshot from below. Peter let go of the wall.

He fell rapidly through the air, seeing just a blur when he passed by a window on the third floor.

His right shoulder popped when he grabbed from the wall at the last moment, right outside of one of the windows on the first floor. He hissed when he jumped inside the room, but there was no time to complain.

The group of men were still on the first floor. From their slow heartbeats it sounded like the other didn't kill them, just knock them out. Could have fooled Peter by the way they looked.

Peter ran to the basement, jumping down the stairs and struggling to open the metal bars just enough to let him pass, but he still managed it with his dislocated shoulder. He could hear the heartbeat and steps somewhere on the second floor, racing down as fast as possible to reach him on time.

Closing the bars behind him, he ran down the tunnel and freed the metal door. There was no way the other person knew where the secret entrance was, but just in case, Peter ran away.

Notes:

The first four chapters of this fic have been rewritten at least three times but what I find funny about this one is that originally it had a really extensive paragraph about chemical handling in the most "I had to research this so you'll hear me explain it" kind of way. You kind of still see it here, but that's the ghost of what it was, the grandchild of what it used to be.

I also had to rework the conversations because, god! They all sounded so weird, hope it feels a little more natural this time around.

I think I figured out how to edit my paragraphs so they have the space I want them to have, but it takes so much time xddd
My respects to anyone that had been publishing anything longer than 5k

Also, I'm not sure why this chapter appears with double end notes? Like??? I couldn't figure out how to take them out so I guess that's its home now

 

As always, this is for me.
This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

Chapter 4

Notes:

What up! This is the chapter that gained the body horror tag for this fic. I think is rather tame, but just to let you know!

Walking into a public library in full costume was not something Peter had done before. It was a strange experience going through the door and having half the place take a double look at him as if expecting him to explode or shoot at someone.

With the stories he had been told, that might as well have happened before.

As was usual for him, Peter didn't feel like hurting anyone so he quietly walked past the front desk and looked for the computers. He found them at the back, a small line of desks with old desktop computers that were almost full with people sitting in front of them.

He sat on the first available one he found and, before looking anything up, he laid down his head on the small desk and took a breath. How long did he sleep last night? That small headache he got whenever he had been awake for too long was starting to make its appearance, and he was also quite hungry. Peter looked down at the right corner of the screen and saw that it was seven p.m.

Was it too early to search for dinner?

His mind went back to the steady heartbeat. Maybe he could get dinner later, once he was sure no one had their hands on the strange chemical Lou talked about.

He first looked up for 'Clayface'. The results were impressive, scientifically speaking. Shapeshifting was not a new concept for him, Loki was famous back home for a few reasons, but this man was able to change his face and body without the need for magic or technology, it was all him. Did the change follow the same principles as Scott Lang and his suit? Or were the changes less impactful on a molecular level? Regardless of how it worked, Peter could see why these people wanted something similar to the man.

If they managed to replicate the chemical mix that allowed him to shapeshift, it would become a huge problem. Still, the notebook had made it sound like the mix was far from ready; even if the new guy was close to Lawren's version, the last version of the mix was extremely lethal.

Peter considered searching for who 'The Bat' was since Lawren and Lou had mentioned him, but he had the suspicion that it was probably the other person in the building, the one with the steady heartbeat. They managed to overpower four trigger-happy criminals, and had also shown a good level of training the night before, training that you could only get if someone was backing you up.

That person would be lethal with abilities like Clayface's. No matter if the mix was not ready, with whoever backing him up, it would be ready in no time if they got their hands on it.

Peter couldn't let that happen.

The second thing he looked up was a map and directions on how to get to #176 Daley Street from the library. Peter grimaced while looking at the map; the place was quite far from there which wouldn't be a problem if his webs were working but, since they weren't, it would take some time to get there on foot.
He double-checked that he had the right directions and decided to print them out just in case; it was the first time he was this far away from the building but he bitterly realized he hadn’t checked the street name so he couldn’t search for directions to get back to the building after all of this.

For a moment he considered looking up the fire, yet, he didn’t want to waste more time. He had already lost all afternoon and, if he was able to make Lou talk, there was no reason for the other person not to do the same.

All Peter could hope for was that he reached the place first.

With all the information needed, Peter decided to clear the cache of the browser just in case, and got up.

"Hey, kid?" The librarian called out to him when he passed in front of the main desk on his way out. She stared at him worried but offered a friendly smile. She looked kind. "Did you find what you needed?"

"Oh! Yeah, I just needed directions"

“Directions? Are you lost?”

In more than one sense. “Not exactly, I just wasn’t sure where I needed to go so I looked it up”

The worry didn’t leave her eyes even when Peter showed her the paper with the map he had printed. She seemed confusingly alarmed that this was the place Peter was going to go – So it was public knowledge that this place wasn't good. Fun all around.

“Are you sure? I don’t have my phone on me, but if you wait, maybe my teammate can lend you a phone so you can get someone to come pick you up”

That offer sounded incredibly kind of her, yet, there was no one he could call, so he shook his head and tried to sound cheerful. “Thank you, but is alright! I got what I needed so I’ll get going in. Have a great evening!”

He waved her goodbye and walked out of the library.

Peter took his time walking through the streets of Gotham despite the sense of urgency eating at him. As much as he wanted to be done and either go to sleep or find something to eat, he couldn't simply walk up to the building and politely ask a gang to hand over the mix – Tony would find a way to come back from the afterlife in a completely different dimension just to scold his ear off if he got his ass kicked that easily.
He was alone here. There would be no one he could rely on if things got difficult, and no one would willingly take the burden from him to fix things; if he wanted to do this, to keep being Spider-man, he would need to be the person Tony thought he could be.

Even with instructions, it was complicated to find the place and, by the time he reached the building he was searching for, the sun was long gone.

The #176 from Daley Street was smaller compared with the adjacent buildings, with two floors and a lack of windows in general. It also looked deceptively peaceful with the church across the street, however, Peter could hear several heartbeats inside, a sound that went below the floor too as if the building had two basements. The air also carried traces of the same smells that had become so familiar to him in just a day.

There was no doubt that this was the place.

With this knowledge, Peter walked past the building and kept going for another three streets, making sure to walk close to the shadows. When he was sure that no one was looking at him, he walked into an alley. Now that no one could see him, he started crawling to the rooftop and jumped between the gaps of the buildings to return to the roof of the building where he needed to be.

The air was blowing cold, biting at his skin with lazy indifference while he tried to focus his senses on the sounds below. From the few windows on the front of the building, the place seemed to be empty, however, Peter could hear three heartbeats directly below on the second floor; they didn't move often from their places, casually talking between them from their positions.
Below, on the first floor, five heartbeats seemed to keep themselves in one of the back corners of the floor. If he had learned anything in the last years, Peter was willing to bet this was where he needed to go.

The sound on the lower floors, in the basements, was quieter but he could clearly hear that most of the heartbeats concentrated on those floors, so he would need to improvise depending on how armed they were. The division of each floor was also a gamble, so he would have to be prepared for anything, even an open floor plan.

This would be so much easier if his shooters were working.

After forty minutes of listening and confirming where everyone was, Peter carefully crawled down to one of the windows- And found it closed.

Peter cursed and moved to the next one, also finding it nailed shut. By his third attempt, he found an unlocked window that led to an empty room so he silently opened the windows and climbed inside. Right outside of the room were two heartbeats and he could hear two men casually talking about a movie he had never heard before. To his right, at the end of what should be a hallway stood the last heartbeat.

He stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath.

Somehow he was feeling nervous despite knowing that he had the upper hand here, but while he opened and closed his hands, he could feel the agitation crawling under his skin.

He forced himself to take another deep breath and closed his eyes.

This was not the place to get stage fright so he emptied his mind. In another place and another time, he had gone against the world without doubting himself; this was just a lesser version of that dance so there was no reason for this to be any different.

Peter took a deep breath.

It was time.

He yanked the door open and went for the first man, grabbing him by the shoulders before anyone could process what was happening. Peter pushed the man down and used him as support to kick the second one in the chest, throwing him against the opposite wall. He turned to the first man and punched him in the face, the man going limp immediately.

The second man stood up but Peter was already punching him in the stomach and kicking him on the head, leaving him unconscious.

A woman's voice came from the end of the hallway and Peter ran at it at full speed, catching the woman off guard. He grabbed her gun and pulled, making her stumble forward and hit her on the face with his knee. When she didn't lose consciousness immediately, he punched her once in the stomach and then once at the back of her head. The woman fell to the floor after that.

The heartbeats below started rushing to the stairs.

Losing none of his momentum, Peter jumped over the fence of the stairs and descended to the first floor. Someone shot in his direction so he jumped into the ceiling and then to the wall to end up pouncing over the first man on that floor. He grabbed him by the shirt and threw him to the woman behind him and then jumped over to the third man and kicked him on the chest, leaving him breathless. A fourth one tried to punch him but Peter ducked and kicked his legs, punching him the side of the head when he fell.

His spider-sense flared on time and he jumped out of the way from a shot. Peter turned around and saw the woman already up and aiming for him. She shot at him again and Peter bounced between the walls and the calling to avoid being hit, advancing through the hallway and kicking her on the head when he reached her. Once she was down, he ducked out of another shot. He took her gun and threw it at the fifth man, hitting him squarely on the forehead.

The first man tried to get up but Peter was already by his side, kicking him unconscious.

Peter took a deep breath.

Something was not right here. Peter looked around, taking a moment to examine each person on the floor not really sure what he was searching for. The fight had ended way too fast and with almost no noise, however, that didn't mean that the people below wouldn’t be able to hear each body falling to the floor. Why was no one moving from their place? They all remained calm and unperturbed, but Peter was certain that the floors weren’t thick enough to muffle the sound.

It wasn't until then that Peter noticed that, despite how close he was now to the basement, the heartbeats were still extremely quiet.

Keeping himself on high alert, Peter walked to the room all five guards had been in before and found the stairs to the basement. He focused his senses on the heartbeats, at first thinking that maybe he was walking into a trap, and yet, the sound was gentler now, the echoes fading little by little.

Suddenly aware of what that meant, he ran downstairs.

The basement was a large room without divisions, messily filled with boxes and plastic tables. In comparison with the floors above, this one showed signs of human interaction, with empty wrappers of food and weapons half assembled over the tables. It was exactly what Peter was expecting, and yet, he felt sick to the stomach.

There were several people down here, guns strapped to their sides to show that they were the ones that were supposed to be patrolling the other floors along with the people Peter had left unconscious. They were seated at the tables or lying down on the floor with a blank expression.

If it wasn't for the fact that Peter could hear their heartbeats, he would have thought they were dead. Maybe it would have been better if they were.

All of them were impossibly pale, their extremities becoming translucid at the edges, showing the vague image of veins, muscles, and bones underneath – Vibrant reds and pinks becoming transparent at the ends.
A constant dripping sound repeated throughout the room, slow and heavy, while thick drops slid from their shoulders to the tips of their hands. Puddles of the same thick fluid pooled below the bodies, and it took a long moment for Peter to process that he was watching a room full of people dissolving right in front of his eyes.

The smell was the exact same as the thing that covered the floor of the secret basement.

Peter wanted to throw up.

Instead, he stumbled backward, hitting the wall with his back, fully understanding the implications of the scene in front of him. Lawren didn't run away because he was afraid, he just never left that basement. But he had tried. Peter's eyes landed on the pool of goo below a woman, how it was slowly forming a semi-solid mountain of transparent slime. His mind jumping to the ladder at the end of the tunnel and the wet sound the floor made whenever Peter walked close to it. He knew exactly where Lawren was.

A scream shocked him out of his stupor. It was coming from the second basement.

His eyes flew to the other set of stairs right across the room, behind the several plastic tables and chairs. Beyond the bodies.

Peter tried to take a deep breath and ground himself so he could think, yet the intense smell made him dizzy. There were dozens of eyes on him, but none of them were truly staring at him. The heartbeats continued fading.

A heavy, wet thud resounded in the room and when Peter turned to see, an arm had fallen to the floor. An eye stared at him even when it was slowly sliding off its socket.

A second scream came, more desperate this time.

He needed to move. Peter needed to move. No. Spider-man needed to move. He was there as Spider-man and Spider-man needed to keep it together long enough so he could help. He couldn't allow himself to go into shock now.

Peter took a shuddering breath and pushed his body away from the wall.

The floor under his feet was extremely slippery, forcing him to make the journey from one set of stairs to the other slowly and carefully. Looking at the faces was unbearable, so Peter kept his eyes trained on his goal, looking immediately away if he accidentally looked at any of the slipping facial features. And if he heard the wet sound of something hitting the floor, he ignored it. He didn’t need to know.

On the next floor was a makeshift laboratory with equipment mirroring the one back at the blackened buildings. Just like on the previous floor, there were several bodies spread around, and in varying degrees of degrading. Except for one man at the far back of the basement who was desperately pulling at his arm, his wrist reddened by the friction of the handcuffs that kept him attached to a pipe.

The moment Peter descended the stairs, the man's face shot up and started screaming at him. "Wh-who are you? What do you want?"

Ok. Ok. He could do this. He got this.

Peter raised his hands and tried to level his voice. "I'm not here to hurt you, I just want to help"

He took a few steps toward the man but the other started violently tugging at the handcuffs, trembling at the idea of having Peter any closer.

"Stay back! I didn't do anything!"

"Ok, ok. I'm staying right here, ok?" Peter stopped and pointedly showed that his feet were not moving anymore. "I want to help. What's your name?"

“I’m-I’m not telling you! I’m not telling you anything!” The man took a vial from the tables and threw it a Peter. Knowing what the contents were capable of, Peter took more steps back than necessary from the mix. The overpowering smell rose from the place where the vial broke, hitting Peter with all its force. He felt his determination wavering, stretching him thin.

The man’s eyes grew wide seeing Peter back away and raising his arm to him. “Wait! Don’t leave me here alone! Please! I’ll- I’ll give you whatever you want but please!”

“I-” Peter shut up when he heard his voice tremble. No. Not here, please. He was Spider-man. He was there to help. “I don’t want anything, just your name”

The man backed himself against the wall, wary of Peter but after a long moment, he finally answered. "Co-Colin"

Peter nodded.

"Colin, I need to get closer so I can free you and then we can go home. We might need to talk about what happened later, but right now I want to get you out. Can I get closer?"

The man stayed silent. He tugged at the handcuffs one more time and then asked, "Are you with Batman?"

The question threw Peter off balance. Was that The Bat? Was the man worried that he was there just to steal the chemical? To steal him away just like this group had certainly done?

"No, I'm just a friendly neighbor who wants to give a hand"

Then other looked down at the handcuffs and hesitantly nodded. "I- I want to go home"

Peter rushed to his side, breaking the handcuffs with ease. "Let's go then"

However, the man didn't move from his place, looking around the room with a sorrowful expression. "I told them it wasn't complete, but they forced me" He took a shaky breath and turned to Peter. "I- What's going to happen to me? Are they going to arrest me?"

"You were forced-"

"B-but does that matter? Just look around! They're all dead!" The man screamed at him and Peter knew he was right. He stopped hearing the echo of heartbeats a while ago. Right now, they were the only ones still alive in the basement.

Peter looked at the man in front of him and wondered how long he had been down here. Lawren disappeared a week ago but that didn't mean that this man had been taken since then. He thought of the police keeping the firefighters away from the buildings because they probably knew there was something inside of one of them. And he remembered the stories from the people he met that same afternoon, their desire to protect their families even from the people that should be there to keep them safe.

How long would it be before the information got leaked and Colin was taken away once again? How long before he found himself handcuffed to a basement again?

"The research. Where do you keep it?"

Colin turned to one of the tables and pointed to another notebook. "The man before me left that. It already had some notes so I just kept going from there"

Nodding, Peter walked to the table and took the notebook. "I'll make sure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands, is there anything else? Copies? USB?" Colin shook his head. "You should get going before anyone gets here, then"

The man stared at him with wide eyes. "What- What do you mean?"

"You have gloves on and I'm guessing you never took them off?" The man nodded. "Then there are no fingerprints and no way to tell you were here"

"But- They are going to know! There's no way they wouldn't!"

Peter walked to the pipe and broke the other end of the handcuffs. He showed them to Colin and then casually put them in the pocket of his sweater. "I don't think they are going to know"

Colin stared at him like Peter had lost his mind and was babbling nonsense, as if he was expecting Peter to laugh in his face and tell him that it was all lies before dragging him away. And yet his expression broke when he realized that no, Peter was not preparing to take him, was not moving at all, and had taken a few steps back to give him space to think.

In the end, the man finally managed to ask, "Why? Why would you lie for me?"

"I’m just here to help.” Peter shrugged. “I haven't called the cops yet so you should have time to leave"

Colin took a step but hesitated. Peter nodded at him and that seemed to be enough because the man turned around and ran to the stairs. Peter waited until he heard his heartbeat move further and further from the building, leaving him alone in a basement full of goo.

He took a deep breath.

With a simple swing of his arm, he tipped over the closest table, spreading the chemicals all over the floor. He did the same with the other tables and then walked to the pipe Colin had been cuffed to and broke it. Water immediately started to flood the basement, mixing with the chemicals and the fluids of the bodies, washing everything away.

There was only one more thing pending.

He went up the stairs with the notebook in hand, strangely numb to the fact that the bodies in the first basement hardly looked human anymore.

Once he reached the first floor, he squatted beside one of the men he had taken out before and searched in his pockets. When he found his cell phone, he got up and went toward the front door. Night was fully settled now but Peter couldn't see the moon from where he was. Was the sky like that always? Last night he couldn't see the moon either. It would be sad if that was the case.

After walking a few streets away from the building, Peter dialed 911.

"Hello. 911, what's your emergency?"

Huh. So the number was still the same.

"I'm at Daley Street, between Donovan and Saint Patrick's church. I heard gunshots, I think they were coming from 176 and there’s this really weird smell coming from the building"

"Do you know if anyone is hurt?"

"I don't know. There were gunshots but now is quiet. Can you send someone to check it out?"

"Someone is on their way. What's your name?"

He ended the call and left the phone on the sidewalk.

Since he wasn't sure how to return to the burned building from there, Peter followed the streets back to the library so he could retrace his steps back to his building. The walk was as peaceful as it could be with a city full of gunshots echoing in the background, yet Peter couldn't stop thinking about the notebook in his hands. The mix was never going to work, he knew it since he read the original notes, but it still felt like his fault that so many were dead. If he hadn't spent all afternoon walking around, then maybe he could have stopped them from taking the chemicals.

It was stupid and he knew it. The only reason that he knew where to look was because of Lou and meeting him wouldn't have happened sooner just because he returned to the building right after breakfast. He did act the moment he got the address, and yet...

He just couldn't win, could he?

Spider-man was supposed to help others, to be an Avenger, but he just couldn't stop being Peter Parker, could he?

The lights of the library were already off when he finally made his way back. From there, it was easy enough to reorient himself and start the actual walk home. Home. Peter laughed bitterly. Home was Tony tinkering with a new invention at the lab. Home was Ned and him working on a new lego set. Home was aunt May and the way she always knew when he needed a hug.

He needed one right now.

He was never going home and Peter, as much as he didn't want to accept it, resented Stephen for not erasing him instead of sending him off somewhere to be completely alone.

On the bright side, no one he cared about would be able to see his mistakes here.

Halfway to the building his stomach growled, reminding him that he still needed dinner which made him ten times more miserable. So he deviated one more time and searched for the place he had been told in the morning, hoping that it was still early enough for the store to be open. He was surprised when he managed to find the store and to find that the man, the one from the soup kitchen, was the one at the register.

"Hey, you actually made it" he greeted Peter. "I thought you would come earlier, but there's still forty minutes before we close"

"What time is it?"

The man frowned. "Almost midnight. Kid, are you alright?"

"I-" No, he wasn't. "I'm just tired"

"Rough day, huh?"

"Yeah"

The man nodded. "They don't let me offer you a seat, but if you wait for me on the sidewalk, I can bring you something, ok?" Peter nodded and the man turned to the hole that connected the register with the kitchen.

Peter didn't stay to hear what the man ordered for him, simply walking out and doing what the man requested. The concrete was cold and Peter found himself shivering after just a few moments. Fifteen minutes later, the man walked out and sat down beside Peter, passing him a disposable container and a candy bar.

"What's this?" Peter asked while turning the bar between his fingers. It was chocolate.

"You sounded down and when you are down, this city kills you" the man commented offhandedly, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. He took a quick taste and let out the smoke. "You can stay here until we close. Don't go home until whatever you're feeling is gone"

"What if it doesn't go away?"

The man took his time thinking about the answer, taking another taste of the cigarette before answering. "Then you be brave"

He stayed with Peter the rest of his shift until the kitchen people screamed at him to get back inside so he could help them clean the store or they would go outside and kick his ass. The man didn't take it personally when Peter turned away and hid his face to eat, but simply stayed by his side in silence, using his cigarette as an excuse to stay outside with him.
Peter offered to help him close the store with the others, but the man waved him off.

"Go sleep kid, you sound like you need it. Are you coming to the kitchen tomorrow?" Peter nodded. "Good. Name's Dave. What's yours?"

Peter smiled weakly under his mask. "Spider-man”

The man raised an eyebrow and laughed out loud. "Jesus, kid, you better not let this city eat you alive. I'll make you a deal, you come early to the kitchen tomorrow and I'll let you help cut the vegetables. I can pay you a few dollars for the help"

He wanted to refuse the offer, wanted to help for the sake of helping, and yet, his mind went to the soot-stained clothes under his bed and the webshooters that were no longer working. Heroes weren’t supposed to ask for compensation for offering a hand to others, but Peter didn’t feel like a hero at that moment.

He nodded.

“Good, good. Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight, kid?”

“Yeah” That, at least, wasn’t a complete lie even if the man raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe him.

“Then go home. Is too late for kids to be running around”

Somehow Peter expected something else to happen on his way back, but he managed to get back into the building without getting distracted with anything else. Yes, he noticed the remaining smell of gunpowder close to the hole that led to the basement. Yes, he knew that someone had been around the building not so long ago. And yes, he knew he didn't have a way to set up an alarm to wake up on time tomorrow so he could get some money.

But those were tomorrow's problems.

He climbed onto the bed with the new notebook still in his hands and fell asleep.

Notes:

I want you to know that this chapter was shorter, but it didn't express how awful it would be to be to stand in the middle of a room full of corpses so it became 1k words longer <3

Also, just to let you know, right now I'm treating the story like a small compenium of smaller stories. They are interconnected and there will be an overarching story (hopefully) but it's not in the room with us yet.

Hope you like this chapter!

 

As always, this is for me:
This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

Chapter 5

Notes:

A round of applause for our special boy!! Peter managed to sleep!
This next little story is way calmer than the previous one so let's hope Peter can catch a breath

Dreamless nights felt like a luxury in the last few years. If it wasn't rubble pressing him down to the ground and trying to make the earth eat him alive, it was the weightless sensation of a jump in less-than-normal gravity and his body straining to its limits while he pulled. Sometimes it was just Tony, kneeling on the floor, never to move again. In others he did move, dragged out of the ground by invisible strings pulled by someone else.

Somehow he expected to see his aunt again, at least in his dreams. The very idea of seeing her terrified him as much as it excited him. How would she look in his dreams? would she still be on the floor?

Yet, waking up felt like he closed his eyes and then blinked them open, blessed silence right in the middle.

And then, an assortment of ungodly physical sensations caught up to him, hitting him with the gentleness of a truck. He woke up lightheaded and absolutely confused as to why his stomach hurt like it was trying to eat itself, and all he could think was that he reeked. There were traces of chemicals on him. Of soot. Of sweat. Of blood.

Whatever had driven him to launch himself into an investigation and go through with it in two days was gone because, oh boy! His entire body was not just sore, but it pleaded and begged Peter to stop squirming on the bed because if he moved. One. More. Time. It was going to put him in another coma indefinitely.
Oh! But that wasn't all because his stomach wasn't as merciful since it was already working its way into being the first case of self-cannibalism from the inside out. No, extensive research on autophagy was not a thing, it didn't exist. His body invented it to torture him and make the last 72 hours even worse.

But the smell.

Everything around him smelled of smoke and dirty laundry left wet on the floor of the boy's locker room. And he smelled worse somehow. God had favorites and Peter was not one of them.

Peter stumbled out of bed, letting the notebook fall on the floor so he could get some fresh air, yet nothing around him was remotely fresh. Reaching his limit, he pulled his mask off and gasped for air, relieved that the world smelled considerably better that way.

As absurd as it sounded, he desperately needed a bath. The sooner, the better.

Without thinking about it, Peter made his way to the bathroom of the apartment. It was a small one, with just enough space to fit the toilet and the shower – Guess the old owners used the sink of the small kitchen to wash their hands. He was lucky that water started pouring down when he twisted the knob so he immediately took his suit off and walked into the shower, hissing at the ice-cold sensation against his skin.
The soap survived the fire with a heavy layer of soot, yet, a half-melted soap was better than to rub his face with just water so he would take it. Peter rubbed himself pink until he was sure that the smell was gone, saving water be damned. There was no way he would need to pay bills anyway.

It wasn't the best to do it this way, but he took his suit and put it under the water trying his best to clean it with the bar of soap, putting special care on his mask so the horrid smell would go away. He wasn't thrilled to use his suit again any time soon, yet the warning Stephen gave him echoed in the back of his mind and he wasn't going to test his luck.

He hung it up to dry on some chairs and then returned to the room with his ass half-freezing. Kneeling in front of the bed, he dragged the bag with clothes from under it and threw it over the bed. It was almost empty but Peter had the vague memory of stealing more than just a sweater on his first night there so he opened it and threw the contents on the bed. Like everything in that place, the clothes were covered in soot, but Peter was surprised to see that they weren't as dirty as he remembered.
Since it was quite cold, he chose some sweats and a hoodie, rocking the 'I walked out of a fire this morning' look. Looking through the things he had in the bag, he realized that he never took shoes with him.

Peter hummed in annoyance. How didn't he think of that before? Looking around the apartment returned no gains since all the shoes were too big for him.

Passing a hand through his hair, he glanced at the main door of the apartment. If he guided himself by pure statistics then he was bound to find at least a pair of shoes he could use but that would require him to leave the apartment without his mask since that one was still drenched. Not a good option.
And yet, he was so miserable with hunger that the moment his stomach made an inhumane sound, he put on the hood of his sweater and walked out of the apartment, barefoot and pulling at the hems of the hood to cover his face as best as he could.

It took three tries but he managed to find some sneakers that more or less fit him in the apartment down the hallway, so he now had two pairs that at some point were colors other than dirty gray and black. He even rummaged through a few drawers to spoil himself with socks.

With his small treasure in hand, he returned to the apartment and carefully fitted everything back in the bag, but paused when he found the first notebook.

He never dealt with the chemicals in the basement.

Peter groaned loudly. He absolutely forgot about it after getting dinner last night. The memory of the basement and what he now knew twisted his guts with disgust and guilt.

His stomach painfully protested, begging for some food, yet Peter couldn't just leave the chemicals out in the open, but he also just wanted to leave everything and go get breakfast. Or well, with how hungry he was it was probably already time for lunch – Peter shook his head. That wasn't important right now!

But...

The memory of last night came back to the front of his mind. He didn’t want to go downstairs and face his failure. All this time he had the answer right in front of him and he might have realized if he had taken just a moment to really read the notes left behind.

He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes and took a deep breath.

Losing it wasn't going to help anyone. In the face of his most recent mistake, the least he could do was to prevent this from happening again so he took another deep breath and started moving. He first put the notebook back into the bag along with the second one, maybe destroying the notes would be best but he needed to come up with a way to revert the effects in case Lou had lied to him and there were others working on this.
With that down, Peter checked on his suit and found it still humid but mostly dry. This was a quick trip to the basement so he didn't bother putting on the whole suit, he also wanted to just rest from it for a bit, so he took his mask and the gloves and put them on.

Peter descended the stairs with confidence, however, the moment he reached the first floor and his nose didn't try to kill him with the stench of chemicals, he knew that something was terribly wrong. He rushed down to the basement and stared baffled at the metal bars. Or what was left of them.

Someone had come and cut them down while he was asleep. Not only that, the improvised laboratory was gone, along with the boxes full of bottles; the only thing that remained was the plastic tables. They even threw water all over the floor so the slimy goo was no longer there either, all of it had probably gone down the drain in the middle of the basement.

They sent Lawren down the drain!

Peter was going to throw up, this time for real. How did this happen? And why didn't he wake up? There was no way someone had been using heavy machinery without making a ruckus, did he really sleep through it? His safe haven was not safe at all and he already knew this, but right now the proof was doing nothing good to his already-suffering mental health.

He sat at the entrance of the basement, not daring to take a step inside it and see what else had been done.

It must have been the mercenary, it made no sense but it was the only person he could think of since everyone on Lou’s side were... indisposed. But if he attacked Lou and Lawren was also out of the picture, who was paying him to retrieve the chemicals?

He stayed there for a while, taking in that he had somehow failed a second time and all he had done was sleep. Why didn't his spider-sense wake him up? It had no problem during the first night, so why not this time?

Shaking his head, Peter stood up and returned to the apartment, making a beeline for his bag, and took out the notebooks. What was he thinking? Leaving the notebooks under his clothes wouldn't be enough to stop anyone from taking them, he needed to do better than that if he really wanted to protect this information. So he took them and looked around the room and realized that hiding them in the same room he was sleeping in was also a terrible idea so he climbed out the window and crawled to the ceiling.

The ceiling was almost empty, besides the water tank and the door to the stairs, however, there was a small metallic box attached to the door from the inside. There was no lock to close it, but it was such a hidden place that it looked just perfect. Peter opened it to inspect it, to make sure there were no water leaks or insects inside that could damage the notebooks, but it was just dusty, so he left the notebooks there.

This too felt like a mistake, however, he didn’t know what else to do. He wanted to truly take the time to read them thoroughly and be prepared in case someone wanted to replicate the experiment and, being sincere with himself, he was going to go insane if he didn’t eat something right in that moment.

He needed something to eat and the sooner, the better.

The day was enjoyable once he stepped outside and took direction toward the soup kitchen. There was actual sunlight shining through the thick layer of clouds over the city which made things slightly warmer than the last time Peter stepped out. It helped keep his mood from plunging into the floor because the soup kitchen was already closed for the day.

So no breakfast and no lunch. Just his luck.

His stomach growled at him and Peter doubled down for a moment while staring at the closed doors, feeling the acid eating at the mouth of his stomach.

This sucked. Peter walked around the place and took a peek through one of the windows, and was able to see the clock from there: 3:47 p.m.
Ok. Ok, that was great then. There were only four hours for dinner, three if Dave took pity on him and gave him some food at seven, so he wouldn’t need to wait that long. Peter just needed to last long enough and not think about it.

That was easy in a city filled with screams.

Wishing to keep his head empty, Peter picked a random direction and walked, making sure to keep himself close to the burnt buildings and, by association, near to the soup kitchen so he always had a clock relatively close.

The thing about walking around the same streets was that he was bound to find some of the same people he had seen the first time which was nice since they raised their eyebrows in surprise instead of pointing a gun at him. Turns out, none of them expected to see him again or that the next time they would see him was on an obituary which... Guess it checked out with his first day as Spider-man in the neighborhood.
Still, it seemed that surviving his first day gained him some trust points with his new neighbors since they took to his offer to help them out a little more kindly and the stories they shared with him didn’t sound like their collective attempt to scare him out of the town.

Instead, they talked about Batman and what seemed to be a growing clan of vigilantes, which captivated him.

There were heroes here.

And not only them, there were heroes outside the city, so many that made a league that included heroes from all around the world. Heroes from space.
Similar names kept coming up like Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash, always followed by a disregard of their names and mentioning that their city's were better. But they weren't the only ones and that blew his mind.

No matter how proud he was to be an Avenger and how amazing all of them were, most of the time they fought alone; the only time he could think of when more people united to fight was back when they had the opportunity to take revenge against Tanos, but after that, Peter never saw most of those people again. War was like that, he supposed.
The Avengers weren't a big group and... It was quite lonely even when they were together. They knew how to fight alongside each other and trusted each other enough to do amazing things together but tension was always palpable between them. When he told his aunt, she told him something that he would never forget: They were still human.

It wasn't always like that, Peter did have a good number of good memories with the team and was aware that they had been steadily getting better before the war; it was clear that they were trying their best to treat him as a part of the team, but between them? They split the first opportunity they got and seemed to take turns on who got along with who.

They did their best, Peter knew that. He did his best to remember their good times together, how they gravitated around him, giving him advice and trying to teach him tricks they knew worked. Maybe they knew Peter would end up alone too. Peter liked to think they liked his company.

Maybe it had been Batman who took the chemicals.

Peter wondered if Batman would get angry when he heard that someone was using the same type of 'animal-man' gimmick as him.

"Kid, I don't think he's going to give a fuck about it" Mister Sanders told him when he asked.

"You think? I would prefer to stay on his good side, otherwise it would be difficult to keep walking around, the red mask isn’t exactly subtle. By the way, I think this is done. Try the engine again" Peter peeked from the front of the car.

Mister Sanders nodded and turned the key making the engine come alive. "I'll be damned, you actually did it"

"Of course!" Peter closed the hood carefully. "Is not going to replace a visit to the mechanic, but it should hold up until next payday... maybe, I don't know what day is it"

"You're a riot" the man shook his head. "Is Wednesday"

"Yeah? What's the date?"

Sanders huffed at the answer but smiled at Peter anyway. "You’re too young to be forgetting these types of things, kid. July 27”

Peter smiled wide "I was right then, it will hold up 'till payday"

"I hope it holds for longer, I already owe the money" Sander chuckled while he got out of the car. "Here you go, for the trouble"

The man offered a dollar to Peter but he raised his hands and shook them. "Is alright, Mister, I did it only to help"

Mister Sanders was not having it. He reached for Peter's hands and planted the bill there firmly. "Kid, you just saved me hundreds, you can have a lousy dollar if I said so. Also, I have been hearing your stomach since you walked up to me so stop wasting my time and take it"

Flustered, Peter nodded and put the dollar in the pockets of his sweats. "Thank you, Mister Sanders!"

"Yeah, yeah, now get out of here. Is too late for you to be walking around"

Sanders got back in his car and waved at him once before driving away and turning at the end of the street. The air was slightly colder now that the sun was completely out and Peter wondered how cold winter would be in this city if a summer night was this fresh.

Well, mission accomplished. He hadn't even noticed that the sun was gone.

He looked up and reoriented himself with the help of the blackened building and decided that he wanted to avoid the streets for a bit, at least until he could reach Dave's restaurant, so he hopped to the walls and jumped his way to the ceiling of one of the buildings. The air blew harder at the top but he didn't mind it, he had missed it. He missed swinging around the city, even if it had been only two days since the last time he did it.

Up there, he finally gave in and asked himself quite the pressing question: Was he going to stay here?

Right now things were going... Well, it could be worse but he at least had a sense of stability, but winter would be hard enough without factoring in fighting crime. Proof number one, it was still summer, and yet Peter was the only one going around in sweats and sweaters; if he was this cold right now, he didn't want to think about December.
There were plenty of shelters around, but Peter was too afraid to let others see him by accident, and with the fire the closest shelters were bound to be full.

Peter looked at the sky. There were no stars today either.

If he wanted things to work, he needed to start planning ahead of time so it wouldn't become a headache.

So what could he do?

Trying to make the ideas flow, Peter started running through the rooftops, jumping over the alleyways like second nature.

Insulation would be the first thing he needed to work with. Having a place to rest had been the bare minimum the first day and, even if he had been lucky to find a bed where he could sleep, with how cold the nights were he would need somewhere where windows weren’t a thing.

His mind went to the basement.

Or... Maybe it could work? Not the basement on the current building but if he cleared the basement of any of the other ones he could make it work. Basements weren't exactly built to be used as bedrooms, yet, the fact that they didn't have windows would be a good advantage during winter. If he managed to improvise some insulation for the walls and the floor and also took down a mattress so he wouldn’t be sleeping directly on the floor, it could totally work as a temporary hideout.
If that didn’t work? He could make insulating the basement his project for the next month or so and if he saw that it wasn't working, he could start looking into leaving the city.

Talking about personal projects, Peter looked down at his wrists. It would take longer now since he didn't have access to the same tools and materials from the first time but he had seen the ones from his counterpart and knew they looked suspiciously like wrist clocks for a reason, so maybe he should also start working on a new set of web-shooters. Something simple to start and he could go from there, anything to just get back into the swing of things - Pun fully intended.

By the time he reached the right street, Peter was committed to what his next steps were, at least related to housing and his web-shooters. Certainly, more things would come up later, but he could burn those bridges when he got there.

He opened the door, prepared to greet Dave-

"I said, give me the cash, asshole!"

What a downer.

In front of a very terrified Dave stood a woman with a gun pointed at him, intimidating him out of his mind instead of giving him the space to reach for the cash register. If you were going to rob a place, you could at least not be a dick.
Peter walked to the woman getting crazed glances from Dave as if pleading him to run away but Peter couldn't do that. He had to eat at some point that day or he was going to go crazy and actually try his hand at robbing the restaurant himself.

"I'm sorry miss, I would love to exchange life stories with you but I'm starving" he tapped her shoulder and by the time she started to turn around, Peter grabbed the arm with the gun and pointed it to the wall. He kicked her legs, throwing her out of balance and into the floor without letting go of her hand, forcing her to hover a little in the air. "I would promise that I'll return this later, but I would be lying so sorry, not sorry"

He took the gun and gently let go of her, taking the clip of the gun out and putting it in the pocket of his sweater, leaving the gun on the counter.

"Hi Dave, do you think the kitchen can spare some food?" He beamed at the man and then moved out of the way in time to avoid a punch. Peter ducked from a second punch, reached for the woman's ankles, and pulled, making her fall on the greasy floor. To keep her in place, he turned her face down and held both of her arms against her back. He turned to Dave and cheerfully continued talking. "Also, hi! Sorry, I'm kind of hungry, I missed all other meals today and I just couldn't-"

"Get off me, you freak" the woman squirmed below him, furiously fighting to free herself.

"I'll do it if you pinky promise to walk out peacefully"

The woman screamed angrily.

"Oh hey, you're way younger than I thought" Peter tilted his head, looking at her face. The woman turned out to be someone in their twenties, maybe younger.

Dave rushed out from behind the counter and stared at the scene, closing and opening his mouth while trying to come up with something, ultimately settling on "Where the hell did you learn that? Are you with the bats?"

"The bats?" Dave stared at him dumbfounded and, after a moment, it clicked. "Oh! Batman? No, I have never seen him. Some friends know self-defense"

"And they taught you how to take a bullet too? That was stupid!"

Dave grabbed Peter by the arm and pulled him up, confusing Peter. He allowed himself to be pulled out of the floor and stared bewildered at the doors when the girl ran out of the restaurant.

"I didn't expect you to let her go"

"I'm not calling the cops on a girl, they aren't going to just arrest her. You got her gun anyways"

Peter's stomach twisted at the comment but still nodded. Dave asked him to wait outside. Peter nodded again and reached for the gun.

"What are you doing?" He stopped when Dave asked him.

Peter turned at Dave with a raised eyebrow. "Taking the gun?"

"Do you even know how to use it?"

"Nop," Peter took it anyway and immediately checked if the safety was on. It was. "But I'm starting a new project and I might be able to take it apart and use it, if not, then I have a new paperweight for some rather interesting papers I have back home"

"You're just looking for problems"

Peter laughed. "How does it go? I don't search for them, problems find me or something?"

"Whatever, kid. Get out, I'll get you some dinner"

He was about to walk out of the restaurant when he stopped, staring at the girl slowly walking back in and staying by the door with a glare that could rival Bucky’s.

“I need your help” She muttered and Peter blinked in surprise. He turned to Dave but the man was all tense staring at the girl, half-expecting her to take out another gun.

So Peter turned to the girl and shrugged.

“I know it is important, but can I eat dinner before we talk? I haven't eaten anything all day”

The girl growled at him, seething with anger but didn't say anything, simply nodding. Peter nodded back and approached her, inviting her to sit outside with him so she could tell him all about the problem while they wanted for the food. The girl vehemently declined the offer and told him she would throw him from the harbor if he ever suggested something like that again.

In the end, they ended up sitting at one of the tables, the girl paying for his dinner despite how much Peter protested so they would count as customers and couldn't be kicked out, which was wild because it worked even after she had tried to rob the place.
Peter stared at Dave pleading for help, absolutely confused by this turn of events, yet the man didn't look back at him, too busy taking the order of someone else.

“So...” he started, wanting to break the ice, yet he fell quiet when the girl glared at him.

After a long silence, the girl let out a sigh. “I'm going to break your nose if you don't talk. And get that thing off, is unnerving”

Peter tilted his head, yet the girl punched him in the arm. “Fuck, don't do that! You look like a creep”

“You mean my mask? What's wrong with it?” He asked wounded, bringing his hands to his cheeks. “I think I look friendly”

“Those freaky big eyes are anything but friendly, and how are you going to be friendly after pushing me to the floor?”

“You had a gun!”

“Yeah! And you still got me on the floor! Who does that?”

“Was I supposed to just let you?”

“I think she has a point, kid” Dave interrupted, putting two plates of food in front of Peter.

“I only paid for one” The girl complained.

“The second is in the house” Dave deadpanned.

“Why are you on her side? I saved you!” Peter complained while taking one of the plates and hiding under the table, sure that the tablecloth would hide him from view.

“What the hell are you doing?” the girl demanded to know.

“I'm shy!” “He's shy” Both Dave and Peter answered at the same time.

“Ugh” Peter couldn't see the girl from under the table but she sounded pretty frustrated. Still, right now? It wasn’t his problem, not when he had a plate of steaming meat in front of him. He lifted his mask and started stuffing his face with the food. Once he was done with the first plate, he peeked one arm from under the tablecloth to leave the plate and take the next one. This one he took his time to savor the steamed vegetables instead of inhaling the food.

“So, how can I help you?” He asked before putting broccoli in his mouth.

“Are you really going to stay down there?”

Peter shrugged. He was actually liking the feeling of the confined space, but knew he was being rude by being down here. “Only while I eat”

“Fuck my life” Came back the irritated answer and Peter thought the girl would wait for him to come back up, but was surprised when the girl started talking. “My stepmother won't let me see my little brother. The bitch told me I need to pay a fee whenever I want to see him, but I can't pay the stupid amount she's asking”

“So you try to steal it” said Peter coming out from under the table, second plate cleaned and his mask already back in place. “Why didn’t you call the-?”

He paused himself and grimaced when he caught what he was going to ask.

“Call who? The cops?” The girl snarled and yes, he kind of deserved that. He might have never come across a cop in his walks, but had heard enough to know they wouldn't be of any help. If anything, they would ask for a bigger fee.

“So how can I help?”

“Push her down,” she answered without hesitation. “Just like you did with me. She never cared about us and now that dad is out of her way I don't trust her with Donny, so I'm taking him with me”

Peter nodded, understanding the constant glares and her sour mood. Also, that sounded like a solid plan, except... She looked far too young to be taking care of herself and someone else. Nonetheless, he knew that some of the little kids he had met while walking around were far younger and were also taking care of their siblings.

It was also not the current problem here. There would be a better time to think about it, yet, right now he understood how pressing it could be to check on the kid.

 “I'm not assaulting anyone” he finally answered.

The girl gasped, indignation coloring her face. “So you won't help me?”

“I will, I just like to keep things peaceful”

“You bodied me in a heartbeat!”

“You. Had. A gun!”

She fell quiet, glaring holes in his head but didn't say anything for a long time.

“You think you are so much better than me” she finally said with venom in her words. “Thinking you can do so muuuuuch better than the dumb girl with the gun that doesn't know how to speak or something. You think I couldn't think of that? That I'm too stupid to know how to strike a deal?”

Peter took a deep breath. How did Pepper deal with Tony?

“You are right” he agreed after a moment to the astonishment of the girl who started arguing again, yet went quiet after processing what he said. “You know better than me what is happening so I shouldn't just assume anything, but I still don't want to get the cops called on us. That's all”

Not exactly like that, but it worked enough for the girl to calm down a little bit and stop trying to pick a fight with him. She wasn't angry at him, she was just having a hard time dealing with something that was extremely unfair and didn't find any other way to make it right – He couldn't fall for it or they would be at each other throats for the rest of the night just like one of the bad nights between Tony and Steve.
The girl pouted in her seat while slowly realizing that she no longer had a reason to fight him, which seemed to frustrate her. She seemed to consider if she could complain about something else so Peter distracted her before she could start another fight.

“When do you want to go?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible so she couldn't use it as an excuse.

“Tonight”

Notes:

Do you remember when everyone was excited by the idea of the Avengers living at the tower? How a lot of people made fanfics about it? Peter too.
I also love the idea of Peter asking people's opinions on what Batman might think about anything because, honestly, I don't think anyone gives a fuck besides him.

Happy Valentine! Even if you read this any other day that isn't Feb 14!

Chapter 6

Summary:

There's implied sexual abuse of a minor in this chapter. Something small and quick, but keep it in mind

Tonight sounded like rushing in Peter's ears, but that voice talking at the back of his head sounded a little too much like Nick Fury so he wasn't sure if it was the lessons with the Avengers talking back to him, or if his common sense just thought he would listen if it used that voice.
Either way, both wanted him to wait a little longer and gather more information, however, he didn't find it in him to refuse since the safety of someone else was involved. He would be there as support anyways, maybe a mediator if things got a little heated, but nothing else.

The girl scowled at him when he told her so, but at least she didn't try to start another argument. Instead, she got up and walked to the door, fully expecting Peter to follow her lead. Since he got his fill, there was no reason to delay things, so he got up and waved goodbye to Dave before walking after the girl, who was already at the door demanding him to hurry the hell up.

“Already done?” Dave asked, his tone casual, yet he trotted from behind the register to reach Peter before he could leave.

Raising an eyebrow, Peter nodded. “Our friend here needs a hand and since I'm a spider, I have hands to spare”

Dave tilted his head and gave Peter a once-over quickly.

“Do you?”

“Do you want to see?” Peter teased back.

The man seemed to think this over for a second and then shivered with whatever mental image he managed to come up with. “I think I'll pass, but kid, I just wanted to know if we should wait for you in the kitchen tomorrow”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah! I'll try to be there on time, sorry that I ditched today. I couldn't wake up in the morning” Dave nodded and his shoulders relaxed a bit, which confused Peter a little. “Why? Did I get you in trouble?”

The man shook his head. “Since you ditched twice right after you looked like a kicked puppy, I thought you had done something stupid”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean twice?”

“What-?” They both stared at each other baffled for a second. “Kid, I haven't seen you in two days”

“Oh” Peter answered eloquently, remembering how awful he had felt when he woke up that morning. “...Guess that's why I was so hungry”

Dave squinted at him, clearly suspicious, yet, he waved at him to get out of the store before turning around and walking back to the register. “Whatever, just make sure to be there tomorrow”

Peter smiled under his mask.

“You got it, sir!”

Once he got to the door, the girl glared at him and let the door close in his face; it didn't hit him but he did take a deep breath to keep himself from starting another argument. She was starting to get on his nerves again.

Outside the air started to pick up, getting colder the later in the evening it became. Peter tried to hide himself in his hoodie, regretting not going back to the building for his suit during the day or even a shirt to go under his sweater – The extra layer would have been enough to keep him warm, but as things were, he was shivering every time the breeze caressed the back of his neck. Mister Sanders told him it was July, but Peter wondered if maybe the man had made a mistake or maybe winter was coming earlier this year. The night felt way too chilly to be the end of summer.

He glanced at the girl who was walking down the street with full confidence. She was hunched over with clear anger, yet, she didn't seem to be bothered by the cold with her sleeveless top and ripped jeans; honestly, she looked ready to kick down a door and maybe that's what she was planning. It occurred to Peter that it would be a good idea to take the lead once they reached her home so she wouldn't end up breaking her foot by accident.

The walk is silent while the girl guides Peter, shutting down any of his attempts to strike up a conversation and glaring quite fiercely at anyone who glances in their direction. Peter can do silence but given the circumstances, he would have loved to have something to fill the walk with. It would surely help with the growing discomfort in his chest.
It isn’t the first time he walked outside of the “gravitational pull” of the burnt buildings, he did so just two nights ago in worse circumstances, yet, not being able to see the black ceiling peeking over everything else is strange. Like the neighborhood has lost its head.

All he truly has to distract himself are the changing streets around them. Old but quite solid buildings morph into dilapidated structures that seem to stay up by cheer stubbornness; the air carries a foul smell that makes Peter grimace with its mix of sweat, sex, drugs, blood, and other things that he is sincerely not eager to discover what they are. The girl does a good job pretending she doesn't smell it, but her whole body tenses with disgust whenever they walk past an alley.

People shift around, sending furtive glances in their direction, studying them with an unmistakable gleam in their eyes that Peter had seen several times before someone pulled the trigger. They slither from one shadow to the other, skipping the lights altogether in hopes of remaining hidden from prying eyes.
Peter can sense the way they tense at the sight of them, making a quick job of choosing between shying away and seeking refuge on way too dark alleys, or preparing to pounce first before someone else steals the opportunity from their hands.

Or maybe it all is on Peter's head, too aware of his spider-sense stirring awake the more they walk into these streets, softly buzzing in the back of his mind. However, it’s not waking up to warn him about a looming danger, instead, it’s coming alive to share with him a certainty of the strangest kind: Here, in this territory, only one person would be a challenge for him.

The steady heartbeat is near.

It was such a bizarre idea- Instinct, that he had never experienced before.

It might not be the best place but Peter had to stop walking for a second just to give himself a moment to breathe.

He shivered but this time it wasn’t because of the night breeze. Did the humes of the chemicals fry his brain? Or why was his mind suddenly offering tips on how to hunt down that steady heartbeat? To hunt down everyone in a ten-meter radius?
Worst of all, it unnerved him how that strange certainty was also giving him the biggest confidence boost he had felt in months. It was so disorienting that his mind was dead set on letting him know that he was the second-biggest predator in the area.

That no one but one might take him down.

“Stop zoning out, you are going to get us killed” Hissed the girl, pulling him by the sleeve of his hoodie, and Peter allowed her.

Not knowing what to do about this... new way of perceiving the world around him, Peter decided that he was already dealing with way too many things at the moment, with his current homeless situation and the cold looming over his head like a future threat – There would be a better time to deal with it.
It was disconcerting, he couldn’t lie to himself about it, yet it felt more like his mind was providing suggestions according to his current location. They were quite persistent but still suggestions in the end.

Maybe it had to do with his spider-sense. He learned to listen to it not so long ago so it could be that it was developing even further, even if it was in a way he didn’t anticipate or understand.

So he tried his best to ignore the new information being fed into his head and quietly followed the girl through the streets. She never let go of his sleeve so he allowed her to drag him to her home, an old building with moss covering most of its brick walls.

The lights inside flickered, making the hallway look way darker than it probably was, but the girl didn’t stop at the entrance, immediately going for the stairs. There were people sleeping on the stairs and Peter was sure that he wouldn’t need his enhanced senses to smell the traces of alcohol and drugs coming off from them.
He stared at the man sitting at the end of the first set of stairs when they passed by his side, feeling a tug in his heart: the smell of rot was coming from his right arm and he had fallen asleep hugging it.

“What? You scared of them?” The girl taunted him.

“Concerned” he turned to the girl in disbelief. She raised an eyebrow at him, her eyes stone cold at the sight in front of her. “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance for them?”

She let out a cruel laugh and Peter knew the answer before she said it. “And who is going to pay for it? Get your goody-two-shoes ass over here, I’m not getting stabbed by a junkie because of you”

He turned once more to the man, heartbroken to leave him in that state, but Peter didn’t have anything that could help or even make him feel better. What will happen to him? Yet, the girl wasn’t shaken by the sight, pulling Peter from the sleeve of his sweater so they could finally continue to the third floor, all the way to apartment 34.

The girl let go of his arm and immediately started pounding at the door with all her strength, making Peter jump by the shock. “Open up bitch! I’m here to see my brother!”

Peter tried to calm the girl down but her fury was incensed by the woman answering back with “Do you have the money?!”

“I’m not giving you shit! Not until I see my brother!”

“Well, I’m not opening this door until I get my money!”

“Open the door! Or I’m kicking it down!” threatened the girl, managing to kick the door once before Peter stopped her. “The fuck are you doing?”

Peter stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse instead of saying out loud that maybe they needed to call the police. “You are going to scare your brother”

“He’s trapped inside with her, he’s already scared” she hissed “so don’t think I won’t kill you if you don’t open. This. God. Damn. Door!” she pounded at the door with each word, even with her leg awkwardly trapped in Peter’s hands.

The door slammed open and the world slowed down when Peter looked up to see the barrel of a gun pointing at his head. The girl’s breath hitched but didn’t quite transform into a gasp in Peter’s ears, or maybe it did, he wouldn’t be sure because the moment he saw the woman’s hand tense and knew that she was going to pull the trigger, his body moved on memory.

“Look, if you ever get a gun pointed at you point blank you can still save it” Sam told him during one of their training afternoons. Steve was supposed to be there to explain to him the basics of disarming an opponent, yet, he had been roped into assisting an event as an Avenger representative so Sam had offered. “You don’t try to grab it, you smack it away from your body, like this, and then strike. Here, let’s try it a few times. you are fast so you have that as an advantage”

Peter slapped the gun to the left and to the ceiling, a shot resonating immediately after. The woman blinked and started screaming in anger, but Peter didn’t give her time to say anything. He jumped forward, pouncing over the woman and pushing her to the floor, one hand firmly keeping the arm with the good pointing away from him.
Another shot echoed in his ear the moment the woman’s back hit the floor. Peter lifted and then slammed back down the hand with the gun, forcing the woman to let go of it due to the pain. As a final insurance, he forced her to roll on the floor so she would be face down and pinned both arms to her back, just like Sam had shown him.

A deep breath.

“Holy shit!” The girl exclaimed behind him. “I thought you said you weren’t going to do that!”

Peter blinked. He looked down at the woman who was still shocked by what had happened, and turned to the girl. “I- She had a gun!”

The girl huffed in disbelief at the apologetic tone from Peter, but came inside of the apartment, walking around her stepmother and Peter, and taking the gun while she was at it. When the woman saw her step inside, she started struggling under Peter, furiously screaming curses at them.

“Whatever, I’ll get Donny”

He nodded and waited at the entrance, still keeping the woman on the floor. Kidnapping was not on his bingo card for this year, yet he guessed that a woman who was willing to extort her daughter for some dollars wouldn’t be a good mother so they were doing the kid a favor. Now he just needed to rephrase that in a way that didn’t sound so cynical.

It didn’t take long for the girl to come back, her entire face red due to the rage, pointing the gun at her stepmother.

“Wow! Wait, don’t shoot!” Peter maneuvered his body to put himself between the gun and the woman on the floor, but still keeping her arms pinned to the back. The girl didn’t pay him any attention, her eyes glued to her step-mother.

“Where is he?! Where is Donny?!”

“Your brother is not here?” The girl lowered the gun for a moment, blinking as if remembering that she wasn’t alone in this, that Peter was there to help her.

Both looked down at the woman when she started laughing, the girl raising the gun back at her ready to pull the trigger.

“The bastard was a waste of space like your father” The woman struggled against Peter and almost growled when she didn’t manage to get free.

“Where is he?!” the girl repeated, her voice coming out choked.

“You were being a bitch by not bringing the money. After all I did, putting up with you brats for years and then the fucker of your father went and died and left me with you” Her scowl turned into a cruel smile. “The idiot of Britt kept asking about him so I sold him the stupid brat, gave me a pretty penny for him”

Those words ignited something inside of Peter and without noticing it, his hold on her tightened, making the woman scream in pain.

At that moment the girl forgot all about the gun, threw it somewhere in the room, and ran to her stepmother taking a lamp on her way. Thinking fast, Peter grabbed both of the woman's arms and used them to lift her from the floor and practically slammed her against the wall, effectively keeping himself between the woman and the girl. However, that didn't stop the girl who tried to hit Peter with the lamp and growled frustrated when Peter easily caught the weapon.

“Get the fuck out of my way! I'm going to kill her!”

“You can do that later, we need to find you brother” he tried to reason with her, yet the woman let out a mocking laugh.

“I wouldn't hold my breath. Britt probably already killed the little shit”

Peter almost growled at her.

“Lady, for your safety I'm going to knock you out” and just like that, Peter let go of the lamp and knocked her out, watching her fall with more satisfaction than the one he was willing to admit.

He turned immediately and caught the lamp again, yet, this time the base of it cracked and fell apart in his hand which discouraged the girl from trying to punch him right away. Good. Peter wasn't sure he could control his strength right now, fully aware that he had used more force than necessary to knock the woman out.

“Why are you defending her?” The girl demanded. She was crying.

What a good question.

“Your brother is more important,” he said, more as a reminder for himself than anything else. “Do you know where Britt lives?”

“You heard her. He probably already killed him” The girl fell to her knees and over the remains of the lamp. Peter could smell blood. “He always asked about Donny, god knows what he did to him”

She was sobbing loudly now, pulling at her hair with hopeless abandon while she bawled her eyes out.

For a long moment, Peter remained still, watching while the girl howled and the floor tainted red with her blood. His heart was racing, full of adrenaline from the anger pumping through his veins; he needed to calm down, he could seriously hurt someone and, worse of all, that wouldn’t help at all with the missing kid.
He counted in his head, trying to breathe and keep himself focused on what he needed to do. The girl needed Spider-man, not Peter, so he needed to be Spider-man.

He took another deep breath and cursed low because he was still furious.

Peter slowly kneeled beside the girl. “Hey, don't let her get to your head” he tried. “We can still find him”

“No! He's dead! I'm never seeing him again!” The girl sobbed, trembling with every breath. “I should have been here, I should have killed her so long ago! Is my fault!”

“Hey, hey” Peter gently pulled the girl into an embrace, loose enough so the girl could break the contact at any moment if she wanted to. “Is not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong. I-” he liked his lips, trying to think of the right words. Were there right words in this situation? “We can still find him, but I need your help. Do you know where Britt lives?”

At first the girl didn’t say anything but then she nodded, she tried to talk but choked on her tears and broke down again. Peter patiently waited for her, allowing the girl to cling to him while she did her best to breathe and ground herself.
All he wanted to do was to storm out and get the kid back, yet, the helplessness of not knowing this city kept him grounded. He didn’t know where this man lived and even less knew the name of the streets so asking for directions was useless. As much as he hated it, he needed the girl to calm down so he could help.

So he did his best to comfort her and guide her to control her breathing, finally managing it after a long while. Once the girl was able to speak again, Peter helped her to her feet and out of the apartment.

The place wasn't far at all. Three streets and they were standing in front of a corner shop. ‘Britt's food and liquors’. How original. The lights were already off and Peter briefly wondered what time it was – It didn't feel like they had been out for that long.

But that didn't matter right now, did it?

Security was almost none existent since it looked like the only thing stopping anyone from robbing the store was the locked door and some metal bars over the windows. Someone not that dedicated could break in easily, that's to say that Peter grabbed the doorknob and forced the door open, ripping it from its hinges and the rotten wood of the door frame in a heartbeat.

He heard the girl curse behind him, but the sound of the bed on the second floor creaking under the movement of someone waking up was more interesting.

Just a minute later, a man in his forties stumbled into the store still wearing his pajamas: a greasy t-shirt and boxers. He pointed a shotgun at them and screamed “What the hell are you doing in my store?”

Peter was starting to get tired of being held at gunpoint.

The girl stuttered from behind him, her hands tightening around his arm, but all her bravado was gone after staring at the barrel of the gun. That was alright, Peter could be brave for both of them.

“Hi sir, we came for Donny” Peter waved at him, pushing the girl to the side and behind a shelf.

Britt frowned but his expression lit up when he got a good look at the girl's face before Peter hid her from his sight. He let out a loud laugh but didn't lower the gun. On the contrary, he seemed glad to point it to Peter’s head.

“I'll be damn” he expressed with glee. “Your mother said you died with Robert, but you can never be too sure with a whore like her”

The girl gasped in indignation. That was enough to give her some of her courage back. “Wh-where is Donny?!”

“Ah yeah, cute little Donny. I've been waiting to put my hands on him since he got some meat on those tights” The man licked his lips. “I would have paid more, but Karla was the one who put the price”

Peter’s stomach churned in disgust, violently rising through his throat until he could feel the burning sensation of his dinner right in his mouth. The man cackled at the loud sob the girl let out from behind the shelves, but Peter was done listening.
He took a can and threw it at Britt and the man was lucky to double down from the pain of being hit on the chest because Peter had been aiming at the head and backtracked at the last moment. The shotgun went off when it slipped from Britt’s hold, making a big hole in the ceiling.

Somewhere to his right, the steady heartbeat started moving in their direction.

As if he could care. He was willing to throw down if the mercenary stood in his way. Right now? There was nothing that could stop him from running up to Britt, grabbing him from his shirt, and throwing him against the shelves.

So that's what he did.

The man flew across the small store with delightful ease, making loud contact with his back against the metal shelves; cans and bags ended up on the floor, spilling their contents all over the store.

Taking a deep breath, Peter watched the man groan and try to roll to his arms and legs so he could get up again. So he could run away.

It wasn't the first time he found someone like Britt, it would be hard not to when you swing around until ungodly hours of the night. There was always something going down in an abandoned house or in dark and long alleyways; and yet, some of the worst things always happened too close to home, with friends or colleagues, and a silent cab driver.
The first time he found a kid running from his uncle at night, Peter had called Tony out of his mind due to all the panic. Tony didn't take him seriously at first, joking that no matter what gun the uncle had, Peter could take him down without a second thought; and he was right but that was not the problem. Peter had been so angry...

So, so angry.

He sobered up when the man wasn't standing back up.

The man had to be hospitalized.

Tony couldn't stop telling him how proud he was for a week. Peter had never felt more uncomfortable around Tony.

There was no sympathy in his voice when he talked. “Mister Britt, sir”

Peter carefully walked over the mess, deliberately walking slowly to Britt. The man whimpered on the floor, trying to pull himself away from Peter and crawl to the nearest window, yet, he must have been in pain. Normal. He was so normal. Peter needed to keep this in mind or he was going to make a mistake. “I know you must be scared, but we need to know where Donny is”

Britt whimpered even louder when Peter lifted him from the neck of his shirt. He clung to Peter's arm and shivered like a leaf in autumn, stuttering pleas to be let go. So painfully normal. Just like the people Peter always defended. How come he was also such a monster?

Peter gently deposited the man on the ground, not letting go of him.

If he went ahead and punched Britt like he wanted, the man wouldn't be able to answer his question so, despite how much he wanted to, Peter took a moment to breathe and calm down. Think of the boy. He was there to help. Spider-man was there to help.

“Mister Britt, sorry for the scare, I know is late” Peter started with a polite tone that didn't hide his desire to bash the man against the floor. “We are looking for Donny, his mom told us she left him with you”

“I didn't touch him, I didn't! I swear!” He babbled but went immediately quiet when Peter put his hands over his shoulders and squeezed a little too tightly.

“Focus, mister Britt. Where is he?”

“Th-there was a couple, they had been trying to adopt a kid for years but they kept getting charged more and more. They live close to the good side of the city, the upper side! CP was trying to squeeze as much money as they could from them”

Peter nodded, understanding where things were going. “So Donny is with them?” Britt nodded eagerly. “Do you have their names? Maybe an address I could use?”

Another nod.

“Good, do you have pen and paper?”

Convincing Britt to write the information was as easy as Peter carrying him bridal style over all the mess and into the chair behind the register, hand firmly pressing on his shoulder so he wouldn't try to run. It was a fun scene with Peter being almost three heads shorter than the man, yet, none of them commented on it.

When Britt passed the piece of paper to Peter, he gave it to the girl and asked her to check if she recognized the address, mostly to ensure those streets existed and they weren't being lied to. She took it quietly and took out a cell phone from her jeans’ pockets – It looked considerably better than her stepmother’s home would allow, yet Peter didn't ask.
Figuring that the girl was looking up the address, Peter turned to the man. It felt wrong to keep his hand on him, not because he felt guilty for assaulting him at his home, but because his stomach kept flipping whenever he remembered why he was so angry and his mouth tasted acidic and bitter.

Just like back home, he didn't feel any pride. It was outrageous that this happened at all.

Not really thinking, Peter leaned forward and whispered to Britt. “If I ever hear of you again and is not good, I won't be so friendly anymore”

“The address exist” the girl declared and Peter straightened, patting Britt’s shoulder with more force than necessary.

“Don't forget what I said!” He reminded him cheerfully. “Have a good evening, mister Britt”

Both teenagers walked out of the store in silence, a simple piece of paper folded in two with the address they needed.

He wasn't sure when it arrived, but Peter could hear the steady heartbeat across the street, up on the ceiling of the building. Peter looked up to where the sound was coming from, trying to see beyond the shadows without much luck.
It was probably going to come back to bite him, but at the moment, Peter nodded as a greeting and then turned to follow the girl through the streets.

The night finally reached a point where things were coming to a stop. It was wild to think back to a few hours ago when he was still worried about dinner and now he had broken into two different places in less than five hours. He had broken into places before, yes, but it had never been to someone's house... Well, they technically didn't break into the first one since the woman, Karla, opened the door for them, but it still sounded wrong to not count it.

Peter took a deep breath, taking in the cold night air, and finally allowed himself to relax. All the feelings of the last few hours left him exhausted, but there was still one last thing to do.

“I don't know where the upper side is” he confessed to the air, hiding his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

The girl turned to stare at him and scoffed. It sounded less harsh now. “Of course you don't. It doesn't matter, we can't go right now”

“Why not?”

“I don't have money for a cab and the subway station is probably closed already”

That made sense.

“So, what do we do now?”

She shrugged. “Wait until tomorrow, what else? They are going to call the cops on us if we go right now anyway”

Peter nodded.

The walk continued in silence while Peter tried to remember if he had even seen a subway station around the neighborhood and wondered how he was going to pay for it. If it was one dollar he could pay it.

Oh, wait.

“Hey, I haven't asked but do you want me to go with you?”

She frowned. “What? You don't want to end what you started?”

“No! Is not that! I-! Is just-!” Peter raised his hands, waving them to try to explain that he wasn't backing out. However, he felt embarrassed to say the reason out loud.

The girl raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate further. So Peter lowered his head and whispered, “I don't have enough for the entrance”

“Of course you don't” she answered, less annoyed than Peter expected. “I’ll pay for both of us. When and where do we meet?”

“Um, what about around 11 am? And place...” Peter trailed off while thinking. The easiest for him would be the burnt buildings, yet, he didn't want to tell anyone where he lived just yet. The soup kitchen was a strong second option but he didn't know the name and he had never bothered to check the name of the street it was on. So that leaves... “What about Dave’s place?”

“Who’s Dave?”

“Ah, he’s the man you tried to steal from, remember?”

“Are you seriously telling me to go back there?” She crossed her arms, glaring at him.

“I haven't been here for that long, that's one of the only places I know” Peter shrugged.

The girl scoffed but nodded like his comment suddenly explained the world. It probably explained a lot of Peter, if he was being honest – It wasn't a secret that he was way too different from the usual citizen of Gotham, but so far most people didn't seem to care too much about it beyond their initial urge to scare him away.

They tended to fixate a little more on his mask.

“11 am then” the girl finalized.

Peter followed for a few more streets, noting that they weren't walking back to the apartment where her stepmother lived, which was a huge relief. However, he took a few steps back when the girl turned around with her arms crossed.

“So what? Are you planning to follow me all the way home or what?”

“Um, you don't want me to walk you home?”

“I can take care of myself”

“It's quite late, are you sure about it?” She glared at him. “Ok, sure, sorry. I'm sorry”

He hesitated for a moment, truly considering walking with the girl until he knew for a fact that she was safe, yet, he didn't like how much of a creep that sounded.

“A-are you sure?”

“Go”

Peter nodded at the unimpressed stare of the girl. He wasn't sure where he was but that was hardly a problem for him so he chose a random direction and started walking, leaving the girl behind.

It took him less than thirty minutes to see the blackened roof of his building. It took him three hours, three mugging attempts, one car hijacking, and the scort of five women and one kid, to reach his bed.

Notes:

I straight-up forgot that February is shorter, so I'm technically two days late with this chapter. I'm not completely happy with it, but I've done the mandatory edit of it like five times and I think is looking decent now.

I'm taking a break from writing this fanfic to rewrite a story I wrote like a decade ago and just recently found the notebook again. This means nothing to any of you since I already have 16 chapters done, but somewhere in the future the story will go on hiatus.

I have slept 3 hours so I'm kinda dizzy. hope you like the chapter!!!

Chapter 7

The sun wasn't even out by the time Peter was up and about, walking down the street with the same restlessness of someone who knew they had a test and still didn't study.

Sleep came easy the night before and, just like last time, it had been a dreamless void. If it hadn't been for how cold it became in the middle of the night, it could have been a perfect night of sleep. Peter wasn't sure where he got the firefighter coat he had used as a blanket -he had the vague memory of getting up and walking aimlessly through the building- but it was going to be his best friend this winter.

So, once he got up, he put special care into folding the coat and hiding it under the mattress so no one could think of taking it from him. It was late summer so there was still time before people started looking for ways to stay warm later in the year, but this was the nicest thing he had, besides his spider suit, so he didn't want to risk it. If he learned anything about being homeless before, it was that time would reward him for being so cautious – He just needed to relearn those habits.

Easy.

It was way too early to go to the soup kitchen and he knew this because going to the kitchen was the first thing he did. Thinking about it, getting a watch would be a huge improvement of quality of life, that or a phone. He could look into getting a burner later.

The point was, that it was barely five and Peter’s mind was too awake to go back to bed, so! He got into the idea of patrolling.

Despite being so early, the streets were already coming back to life with all the people leaving their homes and going to work. Peter greeted them with enthusiasm, wishing them a good day and safe travels – The common answer was a raised middle finger or cold indifference, but at least three people waved back at him with uncomfortable smiles on their faces, which was three people more than what he had been expecting.

Nothing of note happened, the worst being someone trying to steal a woman's bag but it was easy to deal with, so Peter was left walking around and giving a hand to those who were running late and needed a lift – In the most literal sense. It was always fun to hear the surprised gasps of people whenever he took them in his arms and ran with them on his back; it would be way funnier if he had his webs but Peter was still having a great time and at least one man laughed amused when Peter ditched the streets in favor to run and jump across rooftops, chasing for the man’s bus. The shocked yelps of the others at the next bus stop once Peter fell from the sky with a man on his back were priceless.

Peter was definitely doing that again in the future.

“Hey! Spider-man! Thought you were a no-show today too!” Dave greeted him from the kitchen once Peter finally went through the doors.

“I’m sorry! I lost track of time!”

Dave shook his head but he was smiling wide while staring at Peter rush through the room, missing the wet floor sign, slip, and eat shit facefirst.

“Yeah, we saw you running around” The man laughed and walked from behind the counter to offer a hand to Peter. “I thought the name was just for show, but I guess I can see why you chose it”

“And my eight arms” Peter added, voice rough while taking Dave’s hand.

“And your eight arms” the man conceded. “Ready for work? I’m not going to keep you here if you are going to be goofing around”

“You tell me what to do, and I’ll follow”

“Nice, love when idiots start confident. I take pleasure in breaking them down” Dave put a hand on Peter’s shoulders and pushed him to the kitchen. The kitchen was relatively small and a little bit emptier than expected, yet, Peter could see the the rest of the team diligently working on taking out the pots and pans they would need for today’s food. They turned to stare at Peter, one of the only two women raising her eyebrows in a silent question. “Guys, this is Spider-man. Yes, I know, don’t look at me like that, he chose it by himself and, yes, I’m sure he won’t try to shoot anyone here. I’m sure at least one of you saw him running on the streets before today so stop giving me that look”

Several giggles filled the room and Dave continued talking with a playful tone. “Spider-man, this is Elisa, Nath, Carlos, Greg, and Belinda” he enlisted the names while pointing at each of the members, gaining a wave from each one. “Hector is at the front moping. Hector! Say hi to Spider-man!”

A Hi echoed from the front of the building and Peter peeked from the counter to see a man with a beard and tired eyes waving at him. Peter waved back.

“We are the main ones and sometimes we aren’t all here except for me because I love suffering, but sometimes more people join for a day or two. Alright, the day is starting so let’s start” With that, Dave clapped his hands loudly and everyone returned to what they were doing before. He turned to Peter. “Kid, is there any chance you lose the gloves so you don’t touch the food with them?”

“What is wrong with my gloves?” Dave raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’re right, probably dirty. Ahm, I don’t think I’m confident enough to take them off?”

Dave nodded and, by his expression, it seemed like he had been expecting that answer. “Ok, so not food duty for you until you get them off. How much do you lift?

Peter tilted his head, running the numbers on his mind for a second before realizing that it would probably come out as weird if he provided an actual number. So he shrugged.

“I can lift a car if I need to”

The man paused, looking wrong-footed for a second.

“A car”

Peter nodded. “I don’t think you are going to ask for a car, but yes, a car”

Dave nodded once more, his eyebrows slighted furrowed in confusion. “Not a car but that’ll come in handy”

He waved Peter to follow him and walked to the back door, which led to a long alley. All the way to the end was the street. “We get fresh food twice a week, on Mondays and Wednesdays, and we store it on the two fridges back inside. The truck parks at the back to not cause traffic at the front, which is a bitch because then we’re trapped taking the boxes from the truck, through the alley, and to the fridge. We mostly roll between Carlos, Hector, and me, but that leaves us understaffed for two hours while everyone else is trying to cook, serve the food, and keep the place clean. Do you think you can handle some boxes?”

“Oh”

“Oh?”

“I mean, yeah! That should be easy”

“You don’t sound too happy about it” Dave commented, raising an eyebrow.

Peter shook his head, despite feeling quite disappointed. “I just thought I was going to help a little more than that, but yeah! I can lift some boxes”

“Some boxes” Dave scoffed at him. “Those things already gave Greg a back injury, so try to not be a show-off in front of the others”

Properly chastised, Peter nodded while he felt his cheeks heat up.

“The truck comes at 8 so you don’t really have to be here before we open, but be on time so we can keep things running inside” Dave continued while closing the door and pushing Peter towards the huge door of the freezer. It was strange to see one of those in a soup kitchen, most of the ones he had seen were run by volunteers, and half the time they ran in the middle of the street, so it was surprising to see one so well-equipped.

Dave opened the huge door and, even when the air came out fresh, it wasn’t as cold as Peter was expecting. The man seemed to notice this and smirked at Peter.

“This is the fridge, there is a small compartment at the back that we use as the freezer but that’s only for meat and we don’t get it often.” He took a few steps inside and waved at Peter to get closer. Once Peter did so, he pointed to the plastic bins inside. “Once you have the boxes, you’ll need to put the food out of the cardboard boxes and into the bins; if you don’t, Belinda will have your head and I’ll let her”

“What do I do with the cardboard?”

“If you have the time, disassemble them and put them outside, by the back door. The trash will pass by and get them or people will”

An idea flashed through Peter’s mind. “Could I take them?”

Dave raised an eyebrow at the question but nodded. “Go nuts kid, I don’t care”

They walked outside of the fridge and Peter followed Dave to the middle of the kitchen, where the man took out a bowl and started checking in with the others what were the plans for today’s breakfast. Looks like today’s menu was steamed vegetables and rice.
When it became clear that Dave wasn’t going to tell anything else to Peter, he poked the man in the back to get his attention again.

“What?”

“Um, when I’m not lifting boxes, what should I do?”

“You can help clean or go home. All I need you for is the boxes”

Peter nodded. “Is the truck passing today?”

“Is Wednesday, so yes”

After that, Dave turned back to his task and got lost talking with the others, considering if they could prepare the food a little bit nicer than just plain rice or if doing so would mess up their rations.
Not wanting to distract him again, Peter walked out of the kitchen and offered a hand to Hector, who gladly gave him a cloth and asked him to give a quick clean up to the tables. Time flew by while Peter waited for the truck to come; by seven there was already a long line of people waiting by the door and Hector showed him the trick to get the door open since it broke a month ago and they still didn’t manage to get someone there to fix it. It opened, but you needed to angle the key the right way and press your body against the door so it would open.

“Kid! The truck is here!” Carlos called him from the kitchen.

Peter rushed to the back and ran down the alley to a man staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He didn't have a uniform but had a clipboard in his hands with a sticker pasted on the back: MWF.

“Good morning!”

“Where's Dave?” The man asked, unimpressed by Peter's greeting.

“Out at the front. He asked me to help with the boxes”

The man didn't move to open the back of the truck, leveling Peter with a stare. “I need Dave's signature to finish the delivery”

“Oh” Dave never told him about that and Peter got the feeling that it wasn't all that true. Still, he didn't want to start something after the day had been going so well so he asked the man to wait for a moment and ran back into the kitchen.

“Hey Dave” Peter poked his arm. “I need your help”

“Kid, I already told you where things go” Dave didn't stop serving rice on plates, irritation bleeding into his voice.

“No, is not that. The man outside is asking for your signature to make the delivery”

“For fuck sake” Dave let go of the plastic spoon he was using to serve the food and turned to Elisa. “I'll be back, take over for a bit”

The back door resonated loudly when Dave slammed it open, eyes glued to the man with the clipboard.

“Seth! You useless imbecile, we both know you always forge my signature so stop being a pain in my ass and give the boxes to the kid” Dave screamed at the man, and snatched the clipboard from him, putting down a signature and almost throwing the papers back at Seth’s face.

“The kid will be receiving the boxes from now on so you better not pull this again” Dave threatened Seth with a finger and turned around, grumbling all the way back to the door.

Peter stood there in shock, not expecting the sudden outburst, and glanced at Seth, who also remained in silence for a moment.

“So..” Peter started, “can I get the boxes now?”

Seth looked at him unamused but did turn and opened the doors of the truck to later walk back to the driver’s seat, making clear that he wasn't going to help with the boxes. It was alright, Peter thought to himself, he was strong enough to do this alone so he put himself to work.

The boxes weren't that big, yet, they were deceptively heavy, no wonder Greg had injured himself trying to move them. For Peter though? They were weightless in his hands so moving them wasn't a problem at all; in twenty minutes he was done taking all the boxes to the refrigerator and took another forty to sort the food between the plastic bins.
Once the job was finished, Peter took the boxes apart and left the cardboard on a pile, by the back door. He could use the cardboard as a first layer of insulation for the basement, but he didn’t want to go back to the building right now because, knowing him, something would come up and he would get distracted; it was already nine so he had time before meeting up with the girl, still, he didn’t want to be late because the girl would certainly leave him to do things by herself.

As much as she had the right to do so, Peter didn’t want her to have to go alone. Even less after seeing how things went last night.

So he got in line, got his two servings of food, and helped Hector maintain the place clean until it was time for him to go. With a quick goodbye and the promise to come back to help close if he had the opportunity, Peter left the soup kitchen and hurried to the restaurant.

What a strange feeling it is when you see a place during the night and during the day, completely the same and different at the same time, in ways that don't make sense until you truly seek the details. The few times Peter had been to the restaurant it had always been at night, so he knew how to get there and, yet, he walked past it on his first try, only realizing that he had made a wrong turn somewhere because it was taking too long to get there.

Once he found it, he blinked at the red and white sign with the restaurant’s name: Ming Express. A chinese restaurant... He hadn’t even noticed before.

Without the lights on and the doors open, it was difficult to know that this was an actual store that opened during the night. There was no sign with the restaurant’s schedule, the windows were dirty and partially covered with papercraft so no one could see the inside, and there was a remarkable lack of tables and chairs that Peter knew were missing because he had been inside before. Down, on the right corner of the door, was a hole punched into the glass, patched with some tape and cardboard.

How didn’t he notice these things before?

“So you actually showed up”

Peter turned to the left and found the girl walking towards him, so he waved at her. “Of course! I want to help”

Maybe it was the way that he said it, something about it that upset the girl because for the briefest moment, her breathing hitched and she stopped in her tracks. However, before he could ask if she was alright, the girl gave him a once-over and scoffed.

“We are going to the good side of town and that’s what you are wearing?”

Peter looked down at his stained clothes and shrugged. “I think I look smoking hot in these”

“Aja” The girl rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be trapped on the metro during traffic hour”

The girl took the initiative and guided Peter to the closest station, helpfully pointing out the streets and where he could get a pass if he ever got money. She did a good job disguising her tips as insults to his ignorance, but she wasn’t really fooling anyone.
Peter did nothing to correct her and let her know that he did know where the closest station was, thanking her instead and asking further questions like the actual price for a ticket or if there was a station close to the public library. She rolled her eyes at him but answered each of his questions.

Taking advantage of the fact that the girl was being so nice today, Peter decided to ask. “Hey,  I just got here not long ago and I haven’t had the time to explore. Any suggestions?”

“Yes, get out of Gotham”

“And here I thought you were being nice” Peter teased, rolling his eyes under the mask.

“I am being nice” The girl shot back and, despite her hard glare, she sounded sincere. “I was born here so I know the type of crazy that runs around the streets and fuck all the cowards that moved to Metropolis, but I think you would be better off there”

“What? Why?”

“Because you are too nice!” She spat out frustrated, like it was an insult. “You don’t see people going around saying crazy stuff like they want to help you and whoever does it is a scammer. The only person who ever says it and sounds remotely true is Bruce Wayne and half the city is praying that he doesn’t turn out to be a creep who is experimenting on people or whatever rich people do in their basements because the idiot is actually endearing”

“I’m not sure what to say to all of that,” He confessed, coming to a halt in front of the station and looking at the girl. “but it kind of sounds like a compliment so thanks?”

“You can’t be this dense”

“I can and I will, that is a promise” Peter declared solemnly. “Do you have the address? I want to check the lines before we go inside”

“You are not guiding me, I’m guiding you” Ignoring his outreached hand, the girl walked past Peter and into the station, never looking back at him until they stepped inside one of the carts.

Since the girl was no longer talking with him, Peter took the liberty to look out the windows and take in the view.

Despite the gray clouds and the clear layer of smog in the sky, the city was surprisingly beautiful, combining old and overly detailed buildings with modern skyscrapers that made him think of the Avenger’s tower back when it was still the Avengers tower. What he would give to swing all the way to the top of the tallest building on the horizon and just feel the air against his body; too bad it would probably be freezing up there.
It also came as a surprise that Gotham seemed to be on an island. It wasn’t that it was strange or unheard of, Manhattan was like that too, but it never crossed his mind that this would be the case. What were the chances that he was sent to this very city because of his geographical similarities with the last place he had been in his own universe? Pretty high if magic was involved.

Oh, that was a good question. “Hey, does Manhattan exist?”

“Yes” Answered the girl without even looking at him.

Ok, so maybe that theory wasn’t true then, it would make more sense to appear in this universe’s New York if geographical compatibility was necessary. Oh wait. “And it is still in New York, right?”

This time the girl did turn to look at him, squinting at him.

“I’m bad at geography” Peter excused himself.

“Yes, it is still in New York” she said slowly, like expecting another question, but Peter simply nodded and turned to the window.

His theory wasn’t making any sense then. Good to know.

The rest of the journey was short enough that Peter didn’t have to answer the girl’s questions as to why he was suddenly interested in New York, so they got out of the cart and the girl started guiding them through fancy streets, with well-maintained cars, and shops that looked so expensive he would have never had the opportunity to shop in them even if he was back home... Maybe Tony would try to invite him to a place like that if he ever asked, if it wasn’t for the fact that he wasn’t home, and Tony was-

Peter followed the girl, pausing every so often to point at the shops that grabbed his attention and asking the girl if she wanted to check them later, once she was back with her brother. She nodded a few times, however, her shoulders were tense and Peter could hear her heart racing in her chest. She wasn’t paying attention and Peter couldn’t blame her, taking into account what had happened last night, it was easy to expect things to go sideways as soon as they knocked on the front door. That was probably the only reason she had asked him to be there with her, so Spider-man would make sure that she had at least a chance.

After walking for twenty minutes, they reached their destination: A two-floor house with baby blue walls and a vibrant green garden at the front. The front door had an elegant stained-glass window with yellow flowers on it that beautifully glinted with the scarce sunlight.

Right by the door was a shiny blue bicycle. It looked new.

Now that they were in front of the house, Peter wasn’t really sure what was the game plan this time around. Sure, he could bring down the door and get inside, but he doubted that would work out the same way it had worked last night. These people and the entire neighborhood clearly had better surveillance than his current home so the police were bound to make an appearance if anyone called them.

So he turned to the girl, expecting some sort of explanation, yet, her expression seemed far away while she chewed at her lower lip.

“This is the one?” Peter called out for her.

“Yep” She nodded absentmindedly but didn’t move.

Peter could hear someone moving inside of the house, at least two people. One of them walked to one of the upper windows and he had to stop himself from looking up and confirm who it was; it would be too unnerving to do so and the least he wanted right now was to make a bad impression on the family. He heard this person go down the stairs and walk towards the door, yet, they stopped halfway, as if considering if they wanted to open it or not.
So he waited a little bit longer and when he realized that none of the two were going to move, he started walking to the door. That made the girl react, immediately reaching for his arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ring the bell, see if there’s anyone home”

She bit her lip again, her eyes turning to the house with worry, and then shook her head. “No. I’ll do it, just... Give me a sec”

Petter nodded and stood by her side, patiently waiting for the girl to take the first step, however, the person inside the house moved first and opened the door. A woman somewhere in her forties stood there, staring at them without saying anything, her face contorted in worry until she finally offered a polite smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi ma’am! Sorry to bother, but we are searching for Donny” Peter started explaining, ignoring the way the girl clawed at his arm to try to make him shut up. He turned to the girl and casually pointed at her. “She’s his sister and has been worried sick trying to find him the last few days. Do you think we can talk with him?”

The woman stuttered at the answer, her eyes going wide with fear. “Donny? I don’t- I don’t know who that is”

“We know he’s here” the girl snarled, the fury finally waking her back up. “I’m not going anywhere without talking with him!”

The second person inside the house reacted after the girl screamed and started rushing down the stairs. Peter smiled under his mask.

“I think you have the wrong house” The woman talked back, slowly closing the door but was pushed to the side by a small boy, no older than seven, who lit up when he saw the girl.

“Lisa!”

The boy ran out of the house despite the worried complaint of the older woman, slamming himself against his sister’s legs and hugging her tightly.

“Donny!” The woman yelped mortified at the sight. “Come back here!”

“Mom! Look! Is Lisa!” The boy was ignorant of the woman’s grievances. He took Lisa’s hand, and pulled her all the way to the front door, leaving both women standing one in front of the other. Lisa stared down at the woman, daring her to say anything.

The woman made a face but softened her expression before kneeling to be at eye level with Donny.

“Donny, sweety, can you go to your room for a moment? I would like to talk with your sister”

“What? But-” Donny tried to complain but was interrupted by Lisa.

“Is alright Donny, I would like to talk with mom for a bit”

The boy looked at both women confused but nodded and gave a quick hug to Lisa before running back inside. The woman closed the door behind him and straightened in front of Lisa, hesitating when her eyes landed on Peter still standing at the start of the path leading to the front door. Peter waved at her.

“I want you gone in the next five minutes or I’m calling the police”

What a bad move.

Lisa immediately straightened, her eyes burning with fury and the woman flinched in front of the full force of Lisa’s glare. It looked like she was about to punch the woman but stopped herself in time.

“If you think I’m just going to go away, you are very wrong. I don’t care who you are, I will talk with Donny and you won’t stop me”

“Then I’m calling the police”

“Listen here, you bitch-”

“Yeah, let’s call them” Both women fell silent when Peter talked, turning to see him walking up to them, his eyes glued to one of the windows on the first floor. Not that they could see that with the mask on.

“We have three witnesses that would corroborate that you bought Donny from Mister Britt, one of them being Mister Britt himself and Donny’s stepmother. I’m sure we can open a case with that”

“You said three, those are two” Said Lisa, the question remaining on the air.

Peter nodded and pointed to the window he had been staring at. Both women turned in time to see Donny jump in surprised and hiding behind the curtains.

“He’s only a kid-” The woman started complaining, yet, Peter cut her off.

“I’m sorry, but I’m sure he’s more aware of what happened than what you think. Between Lisa and you, I think he would defend his sister over everyone else, and even if we fail, he won’t forget about it” He won’t let you forget it, was left unsaid but it looked like the woman understood it.

A heavy silence fell over the three of them. Peter’s heart was racing, he wasn’t sure if his bluffing would work but he was praying that it did because he wasn’t sure what to do if the woman decided to call the cops; even if they did have at least two witnesses, with how corrupt the police was, there was a huge possibility that the couple could simply buy them. Not to mention, that he didn’t even know if Lisa had the money to bring this to court.

“I see” The woman was the one to break the silence and opened the door. “I would like to keep talking about this inside, if you will”

Peter let out a sigh of relief.

Lisa nodded, however, she turned to Peter. “Can you wait out here? I... don’t want to talk about this with someone else in the room”

Peter paused. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I can wait.. here”

“Thank you” Lisa whispered and then walked inside the house.

The woman gave one last glance to Peter and then closed the door behind her, leaving him outside. He walked back to the sidewalk and sat down, too stunned by the sudden development to do anything else. Was this always the plan?

The wait was long, longer than what he had anticipated, still, whenever he focused on hearing what was happening inside, he got bits and pieces of both women talking, so he was at least sure that the woman hadn’t killed Lisa while he wasn’t there.
An hour in, the husband made an appearance, parking his car in front of the house and taking a double look at Peter before deciding that no, he didn’t want to know and then rushing to the front door.

Peter checked on the conversation a few more times while he was waiting, however, listening to short phrases taken out of context became old way too fast and the conversation didn’t sound like it was going to finish any time soon, so Peter did his best to entertain himself.

There were several toys left at the entrance of the house so he started his own campaign with one dinosaur, two soldiers, and a half-melted man, enlisting them into the rebel army against Palpatine. The dark side was trying to build a new Death Star but the location was held tightly between enemy lines and all the spies the rebels had sent so far hadn’t come back, so a special task force was created to walk right between the enemy lines and get further information. Commander Scales got a tip that a meeting would be happening in two weeks on one of the seven moons of Anoat, so his group needed to find a way to hide their presence and get there within the time limit.
Halfson suggested striking a deal with the mercenary guild and get them to smuggle them on a cargo ship through the first line of defense, but that would leave them with only that ship and whatever they managed to hide inside of it; if they got found out at any point, it would mean a definitive death.

“Then we make sure they don’t find us,” Commander Scales said solemnly. “Deed, Cap, you in?”

“Yes Commander!” answered the soldiers.

“What are you doing?”

Peter let out a high-pitched yelp, absolutely taken by surprise. He looked up and saw the girl raising an eyebrow at him.

“I... I got bored” He confessed, feeling his cheeks burn.

At least Lisa had mercy on him this time because she didn’t comment on it. “Get up, we are done here”

Leaving the toys where he found them, Peter got up from the floor and returned to Lisa’s side. A side that was clearly empty.

“Are we waiting for Donny?”

“No, start walking”

“Wait, what-?”

Not waiting for him, Lisa started walking away. Peter looked back at the house, seeing Donny at the windows waving goodbye at them with overflowing excitement. Peter waved at him and ran after Lisa, still confused.

“Hey, wait! I thought we came for your brother? Why is he staying? Do we need to call someone?”

“We came for him, but he’s staying” she answered dryly, stopping for a moment to check the street names and turning to the left.

“I can see that, but why? Did- Did they threaten you? I can-” Peter stopped talking when Lisa stopped walking without warning, making him almost crash into her.

Lisa took a deep breath. She didn’t sound angry despite the frown on her face. “No, they didn’t threaten me, I decided to leave him with them. We made a deal” She tried to explain calmly, but her voice broke. “I... I can’t give him what he needs, I live off a scholarship and a half-time job. I can’t even get custody and none of my aunts or uncles will help me. They want him. They like him. Donny is all they ever wanted, but I’m not”

Her voice broke again and she started crying in the middle of the sidewalk. Several people turned to stare at them and glared at Peter, who was surely the reason the girl was crying. They weren’t exactly wrong, but why was he immediately the one in the wrong?

As gently as he could, he pushed Lisa to the side and helped her sit down at the edge of a shop window.

“I was ready to try for him, but I saw how good they treat him and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t take something like that from him” She hugged him searching for any kind of comfort, taking Peter by surprise. “Fuck, you reek”

Lisa complained yet she didn’t let go of him so he patted her back trying to soothe her.

“I should have taken him with me the moment I knew dad wasn’t around anymore and now I just left him with two strangers. The worst is that I feel so relieved. I don’t have to take care of him. What is wrong with me?” she sobbed loudly, tightening her hug.

Peter wanted to say something, to comfort her and reassure her that she had tried her best, yet, he didn’t have the right words so he sat there, rubbing gently circles in her back and letting her cry her frustrations away.

The sun was already coming down by the time Lisa managed to stop crying, painting the streets orange with long blue shadows.

“I’m sorry” Lisa broke the hug and rubbed at her eyes. “I told you to stay outside because I knew I was going to cry, and I ended up crying here too”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t after all that” He passed a hand through his hair, just to remember that he had his mask on. “So what now?”

Lisa shrugged. “We go home”

They didn’t move. Peter stared at the street lights slowly coming to life, chasing away the blues from the sunset. No one was paying attention to them anymore, left forgotten on the sidewalk. There was a lesson somewhere in the middle of all of this, he just wasn’t sure what it was.

“I made a deal with them” Lisa interrupted the silence again, turning to look at Peter. “I don’t go to the police and I can visit him every two weeks, do you... do you want to come with me? Next time?”

The girl sounded so unsure of herself, a stark contrast with the usual way she carried herself. Looking at her, so closely, she didn’t look that old. Maybe two or three years older than him.
Sitting there with her, he couldn’t find the girl who had held him at gunpoint the night before, just someone terribly scared of the future.

What else was he supposed to say?

“Yeah”

Notes:

What up! I straight up dreamt that I uploaded this chapter last week and didn't realize until today that I didn't so here you have it!
I'll try to have the next one on time, probs next Monday to not fall behind.

I did try to check if New York exists in the DC universe and kind of couldn't find anything specific. The geography of the comics is atrocious according to some, so I decided to say yes, it exists, but Gotham is a completely different place.

Hope you like the chapter!!

Chapter 8

Summary:

What up! Heads up for this chapter: there are mentions of a dead cat and someone is getting stabbed. Nothing graphic! but just so you know.

“Kid, are you leaving?”

Peter turned to Elisa. It was already two p.m., but they were still finishing putting everything back in place at the soup kitchen. He had come back to help clean things up after a quick walk around the neighborhood, but he hadn’t expected it to take this long.

“Yeah, Eric asked me to help him move a bookcase at his place yesterday. I’m kind of late already”

“You are always running late, kid” Dave teased from the kitchen. “Get a watch”

“Get him a watch yourself” Greg joked and Peter could hear him moving away from Dave to avoid a punch to the arm.

“Who’s Eric?” Nath chimed in, returning from taking out the trash through the back door.

“The new tenant at the Green Dean” Belinda interjected, expertly piling several plastic chairs and moving them to one of the walls. “Came here yesterday with his kid, remember?”

“You can’t seriously expect me to remember everyone that crosses those doors” Nath complained but then squinted at Belinda. “How do you know he’s at the Green Dean?”

She shrugged. “I asked”

“And he answered?” Carlos grimaced alongside everyone in the room, including Peter.

“Right? I told him yesterday to not do that” Elisa added.

Belinda let out a long sigh and continued piling chairs. “He’s new here. He’ll learn”

“That’s no excuse” Carlos rolled his eyes, taking one of the mops from the walls. “Grown-ass man. And has a kid. Not even the kid has done something like that!”

Carlos pointed at Peter who crossed his arms and sagely nodded, just to later joke, “Can’t dox myself if I don’t have a place, if you think about it”

“You still gotta sleep somewhere, right? I have never heard you say where” Carlos insisted. The rest of the adults nodded at the comment and Peter sighed.

“I have a place” He immediately said, leaving no place for further questions.

Dave clicked his tongue but didn’t say anything. The question started the night he returned from his little trip to Bristol, when Peter told (in rather vague terms) that he had helped Lisa find his little brother and the bitter end to their search.
She returned home by herself after inviting him to visit Donny in two weeks, but that wasn't the last time he saw her. It had been four days since then and Lisa had been at the restaurant waiting for him twice, both times demanding for Peter to return the gun he had confiscated the first time they met; Peter didn’t have the intention to return it so Lisa threatened to keep coming back until he did.

Peter was enjoying the company and Lisa also wasn’t pushing too hard to get the gun back, so he was fairly sure she felt lonely, even more if she was using what little she had to take the metro from her home all the way to this neighborhood.

But that wasn’t here nor there. The point was that, after talking about Donny’s new home, Dave had stared at him with this strange expression on his face for a long while until he asked if he had a home. The question had been so unexpected and so... full of an emotion that Peter wasn’t ready to process; it was embarrassing to say but back in that moment, he didn’t know what else to do than babbling out a yes and walk away with the plate of food still on his hands. Dave didn’t stop him, but Peter couldn’t look him in the eye the next morning when he returned the plate.

That had been it.

Until Hector casually asked him the same thing.

After that, it became a recurrent topic with the group. They had good intentions, Peter was sure of that, but he had already been doxxed once and he wasn’t about to live through that again, so he had shot down any attempt to know his current living arrangements: He had a place and that was all anyone needed to know about him.

“Anyway, I need to go. I’ll come back tomorrow to help with the truck”

“Ah! Wait, don’t go yet” Elisa stopped what she was doing and hurried back into the kitchen, coming back with a plastic bag. She passed it to Peter carefully. “Since you are going that way, could you pass and leave this at Lexington 301?”

“301? Isn’t that Kathleen Burk?” Belinda asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Tom told me she broke her leg, her sister was supposed to help her back at home but you know how her family is” Elisa made a face, and Belinda nodded in agreement.

Nath had a point. It was impressive how good Belinda was at remembering names.

With the bag in hand, Peter waved goodbye to the group and left, running through the streets to make up for the time lost. Moving through Gotham was different from being Spider-man back in Queens, not only because of the ever-present violence but also because it hadn’t been a week and people no longer looked at him when he passed by, at least not the people from his new neighborhood – The perks of a world full of heroes, he supposed.

The idea that heroes were common in this world still had him reeling with excitement, however, Peter hadn’t crossed paths with any of them during his night walks; most people had told him that Batman patrolled during the night and he had heard people at the kitchen talking about his latest fight, so how was it possible that they haven’t crossed paths yet? The worst was that Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to meet the man or not, or anyone in his group for that matter.

At some point, he was going to have to speak with them so he could maybe get in contact with a sorcerer and break the spell.

The mere thought twisted his guts.

How was he going to explain what the problem was if he couldn’t talk about himself? Somehow, Peter didn’t think that walking right to Batman and demanding a meeting with a sorcerer was going to work out in his favor. Explaining that he might tear reality apart only with his name hardly sounded like a good way to pitch the request.
If he ever learned anything from the Avengers was that complicated problems tended to be a 50/50 kind of situation: they would either try to help him (ideally) or try to get rid of him (worst-case scenario). Realistically, or more like wishfully thinking about it, someone might be willing to lend him a hand while someone else did their best to beat his ass.

Now, comparing himself to the same level as the Sokovia Accords incident was a little too egocentric, but given his track record...

To say that he was nervous was an understatement.

So Peter wasn’t hiding but was also doing nothing to search for help and the uncertainty was starting to eat at him. Totally his fault if he was honest.

He knocked at the front door of Lexington 301 once he reached the small house, rolling back and forth on the heels of his feet while waiting for someone to answer.

“Who is it? I’m not interested in buying!” came the voice of an old woman from inside.

“Hi ma’am! I’m Spider-man, Elisa from the soup kitchen sent me with food”

There was a small silence before Peter could hear the whisper of who the fuck coming from the other side of the door. The metallic sound of several locks being opened came before the door opened, just a crack, and an eye took a peek from inside, immediately shooting up to Peter’s mask; it widened once she recognized him. “One sec”

Kathleen closed the door and slid off the two chains that kept the door closed, and then pulled the door wide open, giving a full image of her in a wheelchair. She looked thin and fragile, yet the distrust was palpable on her face, wrinkled because of her frown. “That name is new, isn’t it?”

“Spider-man?” She nodded. “No, that's my name”

“Bullshit, everyone just calls you kid” She insisted.

“I can't say no to that” Peter passed her the bag of food. “I wish people used it more, I worked hard thinking about it. I lost so much sleep over it”

“You must have popped a vein thinking about it” the woman teased with a mischievous smile.

“Almost lost all my marbles too” Peter added, making Kathleen smirk at him.

“Something tells me you were already like that. Tell Elisa that she's a saint, not like my sister” She left the bag on her lap while she angled the chair so she could close it, however, before doing so, she turned to Peter. “Do you want some? I have a plate I won't mind losing”

“Oh, no, I'm actually running late for something else but thank you... But... Do you have any books you don't read anymore?”

“Books?” Kathleen raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I was thinking of building a street library, even if only to pass the time”

“You're a weird one, kid. Wait here, there's this recipe book I hate that you can help me get rid of”

The book was small and some pages were missing from overuse, to the point that he asked Kathleen if she really wanted to give him the book; he had been thinking of ways he could contribute to the neighborhood on top of his patrols and, even if he liked the idea of a small library, it was a gamble to see if people would use it or if it would get trashed overnight.

“Take it, I don't use it anymore” was all she answered.

With the book in hand, it took less than ten minutes to get to the Green Dean. When Eric opened the door, he seemed surprised that Peter had shown up, even if a little late.

“Thank you for coming but, um, I wasn't expecting to see you with...” To deliver his point across, he passed his hand in front of his own face.

“I'm shy, but yeah! Is no problem!” Peter took his invitation to go inside and made a mental note to tell him to get more locks on this door. Or to at least be more careful when opening it to someone he didn't personally know.

The smell hit him immediately, bringing him back to the basement a few days before. Peter frowned, taking a hand to his nose, his eyes zeroing on the old bookcase in the middle of the living room – It was tall and old, almost scratching the ceiling of the room. The lower half was heavily adorned with metallic decorations and even had metallic legs which probably made it even heavier.

“Yeah, it smells really bad” Eric smiled apologetically to Peter. “I think there is a room behind the thing and I asked the landlord if he could get someone to come and move it, but he basically told me to get lost”

“How do you know there is a door?”

“If you look under the bookcase, you can pretty much see it, but no matter how much I try, I can't move it”

Curious, Peter walked closer to the furniture and kneeled on the floor to look under it. Just as Eric said, there was the edge of a door instead of a wall on the other side. The floor was also slightly sunken around the metallic legs due to the weight.

“Hmm, I think no one has moved this in quite a while” Peter commented, standing up and giving another glance at the bookcase. “The floor sank where the feet are”

“You can’t move it?”

The disappointment was palpable in Eric's voice, but Peter let out a confident ‘Ha!’.

“Just watch me, this is going to be easy”

Peter took the sides of the bookcase firmly and pulled it up with ease, however, the top hit the ceiling making the furniture bounce back down. He stared at the bookcase dumbfounded for a moment, surprised that something like that happened. His cheeks warmed up when he turned his head slightly and caught Eric staring at him, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing out loud, his snicker fully audible for Peter’s enhanced senses.
Humbled by destiny, Peter was more careful on his second attempt and moved the bookcase out of the way without problems, uncovering the door behind it.

“What's that?” Eric pointed to something on the floor and stepped forward to take it. The man inspected it for a moment and then offered it to Peter when he came closer to check it out.

It was a dusty envelope.

Peter turned the envelope but found nothing written on it, either on the back or the front. There were pieces of tape stuck at the edges but were full of dust and dirt, making the glue pretty inefficient.

“Weird, how long had this been there?”

“I don’t know but if that's money, then it's mine” Eric joked and then opened the door to take a peek inside, only to close it immediately. “Ugh, there’s a dead cat in there. Be right back”

“Do you need a hand?”

“No, I'm just getting a bag” said Eric while he walked away.

Keeping himself entertained, Peter inspected the envelope once more, noticing that it wasn’t sealed. With how long it had been down there, the glue probably didn’t work anymore.
The important part of an envelope is always the contents so he squeezed it to open it and lifted the envelope upside down. A single piece of folded paper slipped down into his hand...

Peter shook the envelope and when nothing else came out, he took a peek inside only to confirm that it was, indeed, empty.

“What was inside?” Asked Eric, coming back with a plastic bag and a broom.

“This” Peter lifted the piece of paper.

Eric glanced at the piece of paper with interest, but it died down the moment he noticed that it wasn't money. “So what does it say?”

Peter shrugged and unfolded it while Eric walked inside the room, leaving the door open behind him and effectively letting the smell slowly start to spread through the apartment.
God, if Peter could open the windows he would do it, but they were already opened all the way and the apartment still reeked, and he was going to be smelling that cat the rest of the week in his clothes.

Wishing to distract himself, he looked at the piece of paper and blinked.

Written in slightly faded pencil strokes were six addresses that, he being new in the city, couldn’t recognize. They were also accompanied by small notes, like the first one had ‘Beyond the fountain, before the bricks’ right after the address.

Not suspicious at all.

“It’s a Happy Birthday card” Peter lied, sliding the paper back into the envelope and putting it on the pockets of his jeans. “Do you need a hand?”

“Not sure how else you would help me, kid. Is a ‘pick up, clean after’ kind of job”

“I can keep the bag open while you move the cat?” Peter offered.

Eric didn't answer right away, instead, the sound of the broom scraping the floor resonated from the room followed by the sound of plastic being moved around and grunts from Eric. After maybe three minutes, Eric let out a sigh.

“Yeah, ok, give me a hand”

Putting the small body on the bag wasn’t difficult at all with one sweeping and the other keeping the bag in place, however, mopping the floor was going to be a must and Peter had to help Eric open the windows of the room since years of grime had close them shut. Somehow the smell was worse once the windows were open all the way.
Still, cleaning wasn't that bad once they poured dangerous quantities of bleach over the stained floor so the odor would go away. In normal circumstances, Peter wouldn't enable the use of copious amounts of chemicals in such a poorly ventilated room, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Ned would lose his mind if he heard him saying something like that.

A little over thirty minutes later, both of them were sitting down in the small kitchen of the apartment, Eric with a can of beer in his hand as a celebration of his victory; the smell was not only almost gone but he gained a room that hadn’t been included on the contract of his rent.

“I just need to replace the broken window” he told Peter with a wide smile on his face.

“I can get you some cardboard so you can cover the hole in the meantime”

“I just moved, kid, I have nothing but cardboard boxes, but thank you for the offer. You sure don’t want a drink? I won’t tell your parents”

“Nah, I’m planning on climbing the side of a building after this”

Eric raised an eyebrow at Peter, profoundly amused by the idea but clearly not believing a word Peter said. “Don’t go around telling people that, they are going to believe you”

“I hope they do, is not good to drink and jump” Eric didn’t laugh at his joke. Peter did have to admit that it wasn’t his best. “Anyway, I think I’ll be leaving”

“You know where the door is” Eric raised his can at Peter as a goodbye and then added, “The books I promised are by the door”

Just as he said, there were four thin books in a plastic bag on the floor so Peter took it and put the recipe book in there too. Since it didn’t sound like Eric wasn’t going to stand up from the table, Peter took the liberty to unlock the door, and open it, absolutely conflicted by the trust the man was giving him.
He kind of understood Lisa now, it was jarring to find someone so trusting in Gotham. Peter just wished that Eric would learn to be a little more careful without something bad happening first.

“Don’t forget to lock the door!” He reminded Eric from the door and waited until the man grunted something in confirmation, and then waited a little longer, expecting to hear Eric standing from the kitchen table. That didn’t happen.

Peter let out a long sigh and left.

It was still quite early so Peter took a quick trip to leave the books with his clothes and then headed back out, doing his usual route around the neighborhood, a.k.a. walking around without much plan whatsoever. Is not that he didn’t try to organize himself and ensure that he was keeping an eye on the whole neighborhood, but he got sidetracked so easily and so often that he dropped the idea the same day he came up with it.
He once asked Steve and Tony to help him come up with a way to organize his patrol routes so he could be a better Spider-man, however, it became a massive failure. It was during that afternoon that Peter learned that no one in the Avengers patrolled the streets like he did, keeping things close and personal, which in theory shouldn't be a problem; both Steve and Tony had experience planning and strategizing so it should have worked...

It was a massive failure.

Not only did they have different ideas of what was the best way to move around, but it was also clear that both of them were prioritizing certain areas of the city instead of trying to balance the different zones – They also stopped taking the activity seriously after a few minutes and started trying to one-up each other in a friendly competition of who could make the best patrol route for New York. They never used them.

So, Peter was implementing the same method he used back home: Spider-man went wherever it sounded like he was needed.

And needed he was.

By the time he walked into Ming Express he was exhausted from running everywhere. How did this city manage to have several people looking out for it and still be full of crime? Something was always happening all the time and his heightened senses were overloaded more often than not. His collection of confiscated guns was increasing at an alarming rate and the cardboard box he had designated for them was going to get full in a month, that was ridiculous!

“Dave, how does anyone manage to survive Gotham?” Peter complained, dragging his feet to the counter and laying his head on it.

“What? Is our friendly neighbor not having a good time today?” Dave smirked at him. Peter groaned, knowing what was coming. “People would take you more seriously if you kicked their asses, and I mean really kick their ass. I’ve seen what you can do, you have what it takes”

Cure some ass.

He groaned at the memory.

It was so much easier said than done..

“You know? Several researches have discovered that violence as an answer tends to nurture an environment conducive to violence, thus trapping us on a never-ending cycle that makes things worse in the long run”

Dave paused for a second. “Sometimes I forget that you went to school”

“I shouldn’t have dropped out” Peter groaned against the counter. “I was so gooooood”

“That’s what everyone says, now get out of the counter, I have real clients today”

Peter did as he was told but didn’t move out of the way. “Can I have rice today? I could use the carbs-”

He gasped.

A scream tore at the night, wretched and desperate. It resounded far away but the sound reached Peter clear as day. Someone was running, pleading to be left alone, to get help; their breathing was frantic just like their heartbeat. A second heartbeat chased them, fast, they were going to catch them.

“You are getting whatever we can give, now move it kid” Dave told him, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Need to go”

Peter turned around and ran out of the restaurant, slamming the door open. Dave yelled behind him, a mysterious emotion behind his tone that Peter didn’t have the time to identify. Another scream. Yes, please, keep going, keep running.
He allowed instinct to move his body out of the streets and into the roofs, dashing over the gaps between the buildings instead of jumping them, not allowing himself to lose any momentum. They were close, the sound echoed a little further from his neighborhood, but that didn’t matter, Peter could follow.

His breath hitched when he heard them fall. No, get up, he needed time to get there. Get up! The second heartbeat tried to pounce on the first one, but he, the man, was able to get up again. He was crying for help and Peter forced his body to go faster, almost flying between the roofs. His webshooters. He would be faster with them and Peter lamented not putting more effort into working on them.

The man screamed and Peter could hear it. Could sense the danger after him.

The steady heartbeat started moving too, out of his territory and giving chase to the screams.

Peter's legs ached at the effort and stung just as painfully after an especially long jump. He was closer, he would make it. Yet, the man fell to the floor with a dry thud. No. No, no, no, no. Get up! Peter heard him crawl on the floor, trying and failing to get back up. Please. Please. Peter tried to jump again over another gap, barely processing that this was not an alley, he was jumping over the street. He could make the jump. He hadto.

He let out a pained huff when he crashed against the front of the building across the street, but there was no time for pain. Peter ignored the soreness in his muscles and hopped back to the roof, running as soon as his feet touched the ground.

The second heartbeat was over the man now, and the echoes of the struggle on the floor sent tremors down Peter’s spine. He was close, so close.

Something split the air, landing hard and terribly against the first man, tearing a shriek from him. They struggled again, the man managing to kick the second heartbeat away, but he barely gave himself space. The second stab came quickly, making the same wet sound in Peter’s ears. Almost there, please, Peter is almost there.

The man begged and the second heartbeat cackled over him. The third, the fourth, and fifth stabs landed frantic and vicious; and the second man kept laughing at the pleas, louder with each word. A sixth. A seventh. They were coming faster and the man was no longer struggling to defend himself. He was barely complaining anymore. An eighth. A ninth.

The first man didn’t make a sound.

Peter landed on the street and immediately pounced on the clacking man, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and throwing him away. The man stood back up, laughing with eyes wide and manic, knife still in his hand; Peter prepared to fight him, yet the man turned and ran away from Peter, tears streaming down his face.
Prepared to chase him and take him down, Peter took a step and then paused. He turned to the man on the floor, and his eyes widened in horror – It was low and soft, but his heart was still beating.

Without hesitation, Peter took the man in his arms, covering his own clothes in red, red, red. Deep, dark red. He had a vague idea of where he was and knew of a small hospital, one that Dave had mentioned before. Peter tried to move as fast and carefully as he could, speeding down the streets with the man in his arms, knowing that he might be making things worse but also knowing that there was not much time left.
The cackle continued in the distance, each passing second farther away, yet, the steady heart moved in that direction.

Not like Peter could worry about it.

Something changed in the city, awakening his spider-sense and making it lazily wiggle and grow at the back of his mind, whispering to him a warning, telling him to be prepared for what was coming. Whatever it was, it was growing fast.

Every step ached but he could see the hospital, he couldn’t give up right now. The man was still in his arms, eyes closed as if he was asleep, but his heart kept going.

“Help! I need help!” Peter started screaming even before he finished opening the door, his voice coming out breathless. But that didn’t matter. “Please! I need help!”

No one questioned the scene of a kid coming with a man in his arms, covered in blood. The nurse at the reception jumped out of her chair and hurried to his side, calling out for more people to come join her at the front.

“What happened?” the woman asked, already checking the vitals of the man. She made a face that was everything but comforting.

“He was stabbed. He lost a lot of blood but he’s still alive! I can hear his heart”

The nurse gave him a kick glance but nodded at his words, throwing out any judgment for the small hope that Peter’s words offered. A group of people came with a stretcher and took the man from his arms, speeding down a hallway where Peter couldn’t follow; someone asked him if he needed assistance too but Peter shook his head and was left alone just as fast.

His entire body was trembling and Peter wasn’t sure if it was because of the effort or because he could still hear the wet sound of the knife breaking fabric and skin. He tried to blink the tears away. He had been late. If only he had been faster.
Peter tried to calm himself down, yet, his breathing unraveled once more when he looked down at his hands and found them red. Of course they were red, he had carried a man in them, but all he could think was of Aunt May, breathing weakly in his arms and asking for a moment to compose herself.

This wasn’t the same.

This wasn’t the same.

He wasn’t home anymore. She was gone, had been for a week now. This wasn’t her blood. The man was still alive, his heartbeat was weak but still going.

The shivers overtook his body and Peter couldn’t maintain himself standing, falling to his knees. Tears finally came, leaving his mask damp to the touch. This wasn’t the same. He knew this wasn’t the same. And yet it didn’t make it hurt any less, and the ghost of her labored breathing surrounded him, the weight in his arms feeling tragically real. He had been late. If only he had been faster.

Peter whimpered, calling for her aunt despite knowing that she wasn’t going to come, feeling even more broken by the fact. He tried to take a deep breath but choked on his tears. This wasn’t her blood. He wasn’t home anymore. And would never be.

He missed her. He missed her so much. Why couldn’t she be with him? Why couldn’t she give him a hug when he needed her so much? It was his fault. He had done this and it hurt so much. It was his fault. It was his fault.

A cackle snapped him back to the present.

It echoed far from the hospital – No, it didn’t echo. There was a second, and a third, and a sixth. They were coming from different places and were multiplying. The danger was here and, in a dreadful moment of clarity, Peter realized that they were coming from the direction of his neighborhood.

His body was sore from the effort, still, Peter stood up.

With the world around him dissolving into laughter, Peter ran out of the hospital and to his home, steeling himself with determination.

Notes:

It might be late, but is still Monday!!
Sorry, kinda got busy so I couldn't upload any sooner but at least I got the chapter out! No last editing session on this one so if there are still things here and there that look incomplete, well, I tried my best. I just hope that the last section makes a little bit of sense to someone.

The very last section of the chapter was brought to you by hearing "Everything Matters" by Aurora for four hours straight: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0qHsWAZ4xU

Chapter 9

Notes:

We crank up the violence in this one, but just a little bit.
Keep in mind that there is a minor character death and a gartituous amount of stabbing in this chapter, besides descriptions of some nasty injuries. I don't think anything is too graphic, but it's there.

Laughter multiplied with each step he took toward his home, loosely filling the night air with the unnerving sound that echoed between alleys. Not long after came the screams.

His senses picked up the sound of each scream, the heartbeats starting to move, and their breathings becoming frantic. The world slowly started waking up and descending into an overwhelming chaos that he couldn’t stop listening to.
Once more, Peter was on the roofs, dashing through pipes and over alleys, following the sound of laughter. He wasn’t sure what was happening below on the streets but his spider-sense was now fully alert, yelling at him to do something about it. And he would.

Peter landed beside a woman who was frantically trying to beat a man, ignoring his kicks and punches as if she couldn’t feel them. Without a doubt, Peter grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her away, looking down at the man.

“Go! Is not safe outside!” The words barely left his mouth when an old man threw himself at Peter, a cane in his hands. Peter moved away, and the old man followed, raising his cane and aiming for Peter’s head; all Peter could think of was that he knew this man, they had talked before while Peter helped him return home from the grocery store because the bags give him horrid back pains. “Hey! Do you remember me? I’m your friendly neighbor, Spider-man! I gave you a hand last week?”

The cackles continued alongside the cane trying to hit him, and then his spider-sense told him that someone else was approaching him from behind, but if he moved out of the way then they would hit the old man, so Peter tackled the old man to the front, just in time to hear the air being sliced by metal. When he looked up, a man was already jumping at them with all the intention of stabbing his back. Peter rolled on the floor, the older man still trapped in his arms so he wouldn’t be harmed.

The old man struggled in his arms and the woman he threw away was getting back up, a smile so wide that it must have hurt, but it didn’t look like that mattered to her. More people were coming out to the streets, yet they were coming for Peter. No. It was even worse than that. All of them were armed and cackled loudly while they swung their weapons against each other, going after anything that moved, even if that thing was themselves.
A teen swung a bat against a man’s chest, and Peter could hear how the bones cracked and fractured under the force, sending the man to the ground. Both of them never stopped laughing.

A boy is between them, boldly brandishing a screwdriver against the legs of anyone taller than him. But everyone keeps laughing. Even the woman who is now on the floor, getting her arms stabbed over and over again by the kid.

Forgetting all guilt, Peter knocked out the old man in his arms and moved to his next target. He ran to the kid with the screwdriver and punched him, wincing in regret when the small boy fell to the floor unconscious almost instantly, yet, he didn’t have time to stop and think since the woman that used to be below the kid took that moment to attack Peter. He has no other option than to face her head-on, so he kicks her in the stomach and knocks her out when she doubles over.

For a moment, he thought that he’d have a second to recover his breath, but just like in a nightmare, the rest of the mob pounced over the unconscious bodies, like predators that just smelled fresh blood. Peter jumps back in to defend them, taking the hits to protect their bodies.

Someone smashes his head against the ground, and a blade breaks the skin under his right shoulder blade. Peter screams, and the laughter becomes louder, excitement twisting between the voices over him. Still, Peter turns around in time to firmly grab the bat, stopping it in the air; he can feel the pain shooting through his body, yet it isn’t enough to stop him. He’s familiar with this kind of pain, and he knows that he can take it, so he gets on his feet and prepares to fight again.

A man jumps at him with a dagger. Peter moves away, grabbing him from the back and throwing him away. Peter doesn’t want to hurt them, even less knowing that these are the people he had been doing his best to help, even less knowing their stories and their aspirations. However, the people on this street are not the only ones, and the more time he spends here trying not to get hurt, the more the screams in the background increase like a forlorn choir.

Peter has allowed this to go on for far too long. What would Tony say? No, Fury would be the one with choice words because of Peter’s incompetence.

Guilt was useless if the people he wanted to protect were dead.

I wanted you to be better

Each move is crazed and unpredictable but none of these people have been trained before, so Peter handles them fairly easily, making a quick job of knocking them out and moving them out of the middle of the street. There’s no time to be gentle. He does the job and moves on.

Laughter guides him and he moves with precision, snatching victims from mobs that want them dead and ordering them to go inside and stay there.

Peter reminded himself of what he needed to do: Assess the situation and make a plan.

So far the chaos seemed to concentrate in this neighborhood, or what he considered his neighborhood; it wasn’t well centered to the streets he always patrolled but most of the affected areas were his, and he couldn’t let things get worse. The sound of cackling was starting to spread beyond the invisible boundaries and that was a huge red flag.

There was also something else going on in the city. Peter wasn’t sure when the sound started but now that he focused, he could hear the (really) faraway sound of police sirens beyond the chaos in his backyard, still, the sound of laughter was only happening here as far as he could tell. Or maybe it was happening somewhere else, but his enhanced senses weren’t miraculous.

...They were suspiciously better in this world, now that he thought about it.

Peter dodged a tire iron and knocked down a man- Holy shit, that was Mister Sanders. Why is Mr. Sanders walking on the street? Did his car break down again? It would be better if yes, god knows how awful it would be if someone was being a maniac behind the wheel during an already difficult situation. He should probably make a mental note to check on his car later.

Right, the crisis.

With the police force overwhelmed somewhere else in the city, he couldn’t count on them to come and help him fix the issue. He also hadn’t seen any of the vigilantes around this area before, so Peter wasn’t holding his breath for them. That meant that the only one who could do something right now was him.

He couldn’t just concentrate in one place and couldn’t let the violence spread any further, so, instead of bulldozing his way through the streets, aimlessly bringing people down, he could be a little smarter about it.

Instead of continuing to run in a straight line, Peter crawled to the roof of the closest building. If the problem was in one area, the best thing would be to contain it there like a quarantine; if he could do so, finding a way to fix whatever was happening would become easier. So he stared down at the streets, mentally dividing the zone into a grid and determining where was the center and where were the limits.
The area was bigger than expected and it would be a challenge to cover it all by himself, but it was his fault for taking so long, so he was going to have to cope with it.

Using the roofs to his advantage, Peter moved to the edge of the imaginary circle he created in his head and started working his way to the center in a spiral.

The process was slow, often having to descend to the streets to stop people from hurting each other, and, as much as he would like them to be safe, he often asked the victims to move the others onto the sidewalks before running inside their homes.

It wasn’t difficult to deal with the crazed civilians, however, the amount of people he had to bring down was starting to take a toll on his body, not to mention the crushing emotional weight of constantly listening to the screams and the sound of bones being fractured. He moved with an urgency that made his legs ache and stretch painfully, but it wasn’t fast enough.
The skin around the cut on his back strains every time he raises his arm and, while it isn’t going to stop him, is starting to slow him down.

Below him, a man breaks a door and storms inside, so Peter jumps and chases after him. A woman is screaming and Peter can pinpoint the route they have taken. From the entrance to the second floor to a room at the end of the hallway.
The man has a gun but he’s so focused on the woman screaming inside of the room that taking him down takes less than a minute.

Peter walked over the man and knocked on the door. “Ma’am, you’re safe now. Please stay in your room, I’ll take him away but I can’t stay with you”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, turning to take the man and throw him over his shoulder, yet, the door creaks slightly. Peter turns to find the woman staring at him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You’re that kid” she whispers.

He remembers. He had seen her before; they sat together in that laundromat, talking to each other while they waited for it to be safe. Somehow, it felt like it had happened so long ago.

Peter nodded. “I’m glad you are safe, please stay inside-”

“You’re alone?”

“I- Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll-”

“Where is Batman?”

That was a good question, but Peter didn’t have an answer. The man was probably on the other side of the city, handling the mystery problem that could be heard in the far background, so it was anyone’s guess if the man would show up to help... Peter couldn’t tell her that.

“I haven’t seen him yet, but you know how he is” Peter didn’t know how he is. “He’s probably already around”

The woman nodded and quietly closed the door of her room. There was no shuffle behind the door, so Peter assumed that she was waiting to hear him get out of her home. Since he didn’t have a reason to stick around, he got out of the house and left the man on the sidewalk.

Just in time to dodge a bullet.

On the other side of the street was standing a little girl. She looked adorable with two piggy tails and her long pink dress, she would probably look better without the wide smile and the tears leaving trails in her face.

“Hi kid! I don’t think you should be playing with that” Another shot. Peter ducked and ran across the streets, moving in zigzag to avoid the bullets. And just like that, the girl was unconscious. “Man, I’m starting to get tired”

His stomach grumbled.

Right, he didn’t get to eat dinner.

Maybe Dave would have mercy on him and give him a double portion of rice once things calm down. Knowing the man, Peter wouldn’t bet on it.

Thinking about the man, was he ok? Dave had been at the restaurant when Peter last saw him and the door was made of glass, if anyone wanted to get inside then there wasn’t much that could stop them...
No, Dave was smart and he clearly knew how to handle himself. Besides, Peter couldn’t get distracted right now, not when the chaos continued all around him.

The next square on his imaginary grid actually brought him close to the Green Dean, and suddenly Peter remembered Eric who, contrary to Dave, didn’t know how to handle Gotham yet. There was no internal debate on whether Peter should deviate from the plan or not, he turned to the apartment complex in a heartbeat.

Finding the door to the complex axed down, Peter ran inside, turning to his right on time to stop the axe aimed at his chest. An old woman stared at him with wide eyes, cackling lousy while trying to snatch the axe from his hands, growing increasingly aggressive when Peter didn’t let go. It was impressive how vicious this woman was, waiting for people to come inside the building to ambush them and, judging by the blood on the floor, it had worked before. Peter quickly scanned the floor for bodies but he couldn’t find any - Small mercies.

“Lady, I don’t swing that way but let me know if you have a niece” and he knocked her down.

There was another man with a saw at the end of the hallways and a woman with a hammer, going at each other with a wicked gleam in their eyes... Were these people carpenters? Where did they get a saw?

“Hey guys!” Peter called at them and both turned to him. The woman already had a massive gash on the left side of her face. “Holy shit, you need a hospital”

The man left the woman on the floor, running at Peter with sloppy movements. A knot formed on Peter’s throat while staring at the man’s deformed leg, the meat ripped and hanging from the bone. Peter glanced at the hammer, finding it bloody on the dented side.

“Fuck”

Knocking them out was the easy part, yet, Peter couldn’t just leave them like this, they were going to bleed out.

Peter took a glance at their wounds and his stomach twisted, wrecking him on the inside. Hospital. He needed to call a hospital, everything else didn’t matter. Trying his luck, he searched their pockets but found only trash in them. Shit. What could he do?

Eric.

There was a landline in his apartment.

Scanning each floor, Peter rushed upstairs. He didn’t find anyone else on the hallways and he hoped that it meant that everyone else was safe inside their homes.
That was, until he reached Eric’s apartment and found the door wide open. There were no signs of it being forced.

“God damn it, Eric”

Just as imagined, Eric was on the floor, struggling to protect himself from the pointy end of a knife. His arms already had a couple of cuts, yet, he was doing a good job maintaining the knife away from his throat. A job he wouldn’t need to do if he had listened when Peter told him to lock the door that afternoon.

There was an ongoing crisis and Peter did not have time for this, but he still walked to Eric, staring down at the man with a frown that Eric wouldn’t be able to see under his mask.

“K-kid?” Eric stared at him with eyes that pleaded for help.

Peter huffed.

He grabbed the teen who was trying to give Eric a third eye and knocked her out without problems.

“I told you to lock the door”

“How was I supposed to know this was going to happen?” the man angrily screamed at Peter.

“You-!” Peter stopped himself and took a deep breath. They didn’t have the time for this. “Where is your son?”

Eric slowly stood up from the door, hugging his arms against his torso, clearly in pain. “Back in his room”

“Good, go check on him, please. Let him know you are ok, also, can I use your phone?”

“Why do you need a phone? What is happening outside?”

“I don’t know if an ambulance will be able to get here but you have two neighbors that need one, and-” Peter hesitated. He didn’t understand what was happening, from one moment to the other half the neighborhood went crazy and, somehow, he wasn’t even the first line of defense – There were plenty of people outside trying to fight back despite of how many times he asked them to go home and be safe, just to almost immediately get ganged on.

Peter rubbed his eyes over the mask.

So this is probably how Tony felt whenever he asked him to go home and Peter didn’t listen. This was life’s way to return the favor, wasn’t it?

“The whole neighborhood went crazier, so keep the door locked” Peter told him while walking to the phone. He dialed 911.

“We are experiencing a high volume of calls and a call taker will answer your call at any moment”

Peter felt so exhausted.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to Eric. “I can’t stay, but please, could you stay in line for 911? Someone needs to check on your neighbors or they are going to bleed out”

Eric nodded but stopped when he saw Peter walk to one of the windows. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m going outside to help. Lock the door and stay safe, ok?”

Peter climbed out the window and jumped to the next roof below, rolling to soften his landing. His legs wobbled underneath him once he started to stand up, which took him by surprise; he knew that he was tired but he didn’t expect for his body to be this exhausted. How long had he been fighting? One hour? Maybe two? It couldn’t be longer than that, right? Someone would have already noticed the problem and would have come to help if he had been going for longer than that, right?

What he needed was to work on his endurance, that’s what he needed. Even if he had been going for two hours, all of these fights were easy and straightforward, with his enhanced biology he shouldn’t be getting this exhausted. This wouldn’t be a problem at home, so why was it a problem here?

Ignoring the soreness in his body and the plea for a five-minute break, Peter dragged himself to the edge of the roof and assessed the situation. So far he has been successful in preventing people from spreading out of this area, even going as far as to bring back anyone who had breached the imaginary limits of the territory.
Not only that, the laughter echoed with less force now, although that didn't mean the problem was fixed, just that he had broken the trust of so many by attacking them and by not acting fast enough to protect them. But that was a problem for later, right now, he needed to keep things under control long enough to investigate the origins of the problem and see what he could do to solve it.

His bet was on a psychoactive drug by the drastic change in behavior, like the elevated urge for violence and the manic laughter, however, simple observation wasn't going to cut it. Proper equipment and a test subject were a must so he might need to either break into a hospital or find a university, not to mention the time needed to identify the components of the drugs and possible ways to neutralize it.

Below him, a window broke and a television got thrown out, falling hard against the cement of the sidewalk. A woman looked out the window, twisting by the amount of laughter that was coming out of her.

Peter took a deep breath.

The people he left unconscious on the streets weren't going to stay like that forever and it wasn't realistic to fight everyone in one night and find a cure. Sooner or later, something is gonna give, and it might as well be his sanity.

East, five streets over. Two motorcycles breached the edge of the territory. Peter's head snapped in that direction, listening carefully. They weren't going out, they were coming into the neighborhood. No one had gone in or out ever since the problem started, violence had spread too fast and people got attacked the moment they tried to reach their cars and escape. It couldn't be an ambulance either, the sound of the escape and the engine were of a motorcycle or something smaller.

That’s when he noticed them.

Two steady heartbeats perched over the motorcycles.

They reached the end of a street and split up, going in opposite directions to the other, moving swiftly through the streets. It took Peter a moment to understand they were following the streets in a spiral, just like he had been doing all night. One of them stopped and Peter could hear the muffled sounds of a fight starting.

His legs gave up under him and Peter fell on his ass, staring at the general direction of the fight in disbelief. Someone showed up.

Relief covered him, crushing his body against the roof and making him flop as if his strings had been cut. Laying down on the cold ceiling felt fantastic despite the small rock that was stabbing his back, close to the cut under his shoulder.
Peter closed his eyes and just breathed as deep as he could, his chest aching with the effort but the pain was welcomed as long as it meant that Peter wasn't running anymore.

Cackling was still the background choir along with the screams, and his job was nowhere near done, but someone else was there for his community and he could finally take a breather.

And then a scream came from below him, right from where the TV had been thrown out.

Those five minutes passed in a blink, but it felt like a blessing. Peter forced his body to move and stand up, way too aware of how his body was more soreness than anything else. It was fine, now that someone was here, Peter could see an end to this night..

But right now, Spider-man was needed so he descended to the floor where the window had been broken and knocked down the cackling woman, and then brought her down to the street, laying her down on the sidewalk.

Going back to his initial plan, Peter quietly coordinated himself with the other two heartbeats so they wouldn't cover the same areas twice. Now that he knew he wasn't the only one, he allowed himself to be gentle with those who were acting strange. No longer acting like an efficient hunter, but a friend that was left with no other choice... He hoped people would see him like that.

His thoughts then went back to Dave and the glass door.

Peter deliberately deviated from his route again, convincing himself to make a quick visit to his friend long enough to assure himself that yes, Dave could defend himself and didn't need any saving.

Finding the door and the windows spread all over the floor wasn't the comforting image he thought he would find.

Leaving all logic at the door, Peter rushed inside the restaurant. There were several bullet holes in the walls and... Right there, in the middle, was a kid. His heart skipped a beat at the sight, red pooling under the small body as if to tell the world I'm here, look at me.
Taking one step and then a second, he went closer to the body. If only he had been faster. If only he had come to check when he considered it the first time around, maybe there wouldn't be a boy lying on the floor, two red dots sticking out like sore thumbs on his chest.

The sound of a gun cranking behind him echoed in his ears and Peter turned around so fast that he almost fell over. He prepared himself to move out of the way and attack, the hunter coming back for one last prey and-

Peter hesitated.

Dave didn’t.

The pain didn't register right away, at least not fully, but the scream full of anguish came anyway when the bullet went straight through his leg, getting embedded in the floor, another reminder for the restaurant of the things that happened that night. Dave trembled with the force of his laughter, thick tears streaming down his cheeks, and yet, Peter heard the trigger being pulled again.

I wanted you to be better

The second bullet graced his arm, sending a burning sensation all the way to his shoulder and Peter just knew that he would need stitches for that one.

A third bullet came his way, and Peter rolled out of the way, immediately jumping forward and tackling Dave off his feet. The man struggled against him, unable to shake Peter off until he kicked his injured leg, ripping a loud scream from Peter.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Dave grabbed Peter by the head and smashed him against the ground. Once. Twice.

Peter twisted out of Dave's hold before the third push, jumping over his head and landing behind him. Dave turned around fast, faster than someone without training should, but he still wasn't enough to stop Peter from punching his lights out.

Dave slammed against the floor, making a painful thud but there was no sound of fractured bones. Peter remained standing in the middle of the restaurant while waiting for Dave to push himself back up; there was no way that was happening, Peter punched him harder than the others despite the fear of seriously hurting him. And yet Peter saw him squirm lightly before letting out a groan and falling completely unconscious.

So he waited and only relaxed when Dave didn't move after five minutes.

Dragging his feet, Peter walked out of the restaurant slowly, limping away from the place in a steady rhythm. The wound in his leg sent agonizing stabs up his back whenever he pressed the ground with it, yet he didn't stop moving.

Mind numb with the red, red, red. Deep, dark red.

A soft hum flew over his head so he stared at the void that was the night sky. An airplane. No, a jet, just as black as the night, was flying in the sky. It passed once and then turned back around and a thick baby-blue cloud started coming out from the back of it, lazily descending over the neighborhood.

His heart fell to the floor at the sight. Was this good? Bad? There was nothing he could do to stop it if it was bad.

Peter wanted to fall to his knees. What else could he do but watch?

But he's an Avenger.

Peter didn't feel like a hero right at that moment. That didn't matter. Spider-man was an Avenger and so he straightened, walking with cold determination. If things turned worse, he would be here and would keep fighting.

As best as he could, he crawled up the side of a building, barely reaching the roof before his arms gave out. He dragged himself to the edge and concentrated, searching for any change after the blue cloud.
The jet passed by a second time, releasing a second cloud of blue smoke and Peter couldn't do anything but stare dumbly at it.

He waited a long time for the chaos to erupt again, invigorated by the new drug released over their heads and yet, the night fell silent. No more cackling. No more screams. Was that good? Were they dead? Peter didn't feel sick or any more miserable so maybe this was the end of it. Maybe someone did what he couldn't and found the cure for the drug affecting his community, releasing it in the air to cover all the affected, like an airplane raining water over a forest fire.

That was good.

It meant they were safe now. It meant that ambulances would be able to get here and help the people who needed it. It also meant that he could rest.

Maybe he should be down there, providing support to the ambulances that were going to clearly be overwhelmed after such a night. And he was going to help, after a short break. All he needed was a power nap and then he would be prepared to offer a hand again.

So he laid down on the floor and closed his eyes, the cold be damned.

 

 

 

 

 

The fire cracked soothingly, gently dancing between yellows and oranges in the fireplace. The warm air felt so good against his skin.

“I wouldn't stand that close”

Peter turned, finding Stephen standing behind him. He gently took Peter by the shoulders and pulled him to a chair. Peter melted over the soft fabric, almost letting out a purr because of the relief.

“I'm sorry I can't do more” Stephen told him, and he sounded strangely everywhere, but also to his left.

It was alright. Peter was warm and his aching body felt in bliss. He wanted to tell this to Stephen, but instead, he asked “How?”

The question could mean anything, but Peter trusted that Stephen would be able to understand how exhausted he was to explain what he meant. For once, he wanted answers.

“Magic carries the essence of the one casting it. I embedded a little of my magic in you so I could guide you to this world, but not all of it was used in the journey”

They remained silent after the explanation. Peter tried to process the information and understand what Stephen was telling him. Did that mean that he would disappear at some point?

“Are you leaving?”

Stephen stared at him, downcast for a moment. “Not right now”

He talked in a tone so gentle that Peter could feel his eyes wet. He didn't want him to go, he didn't want to be alone. Without having to say anything, Stephen walked closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry”

Peter wanted to hug him. His body hurt too much to move.

“Please” his voice broke with the whisper and he wasn't sure what he was asking, but Stephen didn't move.

“Peter, I'm sorry, but you need to wake up. Someone just found you and-”

“No, please, don't go”

Stephen leaned forward and hugged him. Peter reciprocated the hug, surrounding the man so tightly in hopes that he wouldn't go.

“I'm sorry kid”

 

 

 

 

 

Peter woke up startled, slapping a hand away from his face. He rolled to his side and tried to stand up, stumbling forward when the pain in his leg stopped him from pushing himself up and falling face-first against the ground.

“Christ kid, I thought you were dead”

His head snapped towards the modulated voice, finding a man with a red helmet over his head and a leather jacket. That jacket looked so warm. Fuck, he was so cold.

Since he wasn’t going anywhere with that leg, he tried to make himself conformable on the floor. “Who says I'm not? I heard zombies are trending this year”

The reaction was instant. The man took out the gun and pointed it at Peter without hesitation, the gun pointing between his eyes. Not exactly ideal.

“You don't like zombies? I personally preference were-creatures”

They remained in silence for a long moment in which Peter tried to change his posture so he wouldn’t be laying on his injured leg. After a while, the man huffed and lowered his gun.

“Were-creatures” The man repeated, amusement clear even through the modulated voice.

“Yeah! Werewolves are the most popular, but there's also werecats and werecoyotes-”

“Werespiders?” The man offered with the same amused tone.

“Yeah! You get it” Peter pointed at him and regretted the action instantly. “What's up man? You are a little too high ground to be lost”

“There's this kid that invaded my territory and left behind a mess, so I had to come give him my housewarming gift”

Holy shit.

“Are you Batman?”

The gun went back up as an answer. “Do I look like it?”

Peter pretended to think about it and also pretended that his heart didn't skip a beat at the sight. If his leg wasn't busted he could dodge the bullet from this distance, but it was and Peter didn’t want to bet on his luck.
Whoever this was, he clearly was still trying to decide if he wanted Peter dead or not, so the smart move would be to try to appeal to him somehow.

“Nah, you look too bright for that. Darren told me that he saw him once and he wears all black. He told me that Batman is the biggest goth in the city which I understand why, but since a lot of people say that he spends a lot of time brooding, I think emo fits him better”

“I- What?” The man sputtered half-laughing.

“Just think about it, thematically it would make sense to think goth, because of bats and all that, but aren't emos the emotional ones?"

“Kid, what the fuck are you talking about?” The man lowered the gun again, delight slipping with each word.

“Batman, of course. Anyway, what did you bring?”

“For?”

“My housewarming gift?”

“Oh yeah” As easy as breathing, the man lifted his gun again and pulled the trigger three times.

It took all of Peter's might to not flinch, keeping himself in place and that seemed to be the right call since the man didn't shoot at him but around him, leaving three new holes on the ground. The person living under screamed, startled by the new bullet holes in their ceiling.

Once he was done, the man tilted his head to the side. “No reaction? That's lame”

Peter shrugged. “I don't think I could dodge it even if I tried”

“Is that what happened to your leg?”

“I...” Peter looked at the red stain on his sweats, remembering that he left Dave lying on the floor beside a corpse. He grimaced at the thought. “I hesitated”

The man clicked his tongue. “A huge mistake in this city”

“Pretty sure that's a mistake in any city, but lesson learned”

Having said that, Peter pushed himself out of the floor which sent a jolt of pain through his spine so bad that it left him dizzy. He let out a loud and long grunt of pain while he was getting up, and once he managed it, he turned to stare at the man. “That hurt a bit”

“Fuck kid, you should get that checked” the man hissed, clearly displeased by Peter’s actions.

Peter blinked. “I thought you were here to shoot me?”

“If I wanted you dead, I would have done so already” the man shot back with indignation. “I know a place we can get you patched up”

Oh no, Peter was going to no second location with a stranger.

“I don't think that's-” He looked around while talking, searching for the closest edge so he could jump and get away, however, something on his left grabbed his attention. “Is that the sun?”

The man looked in that direction and then turned to Peter.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Like an hour, maybe” Peter’s attention snapped back to the man. “A friend of mine kept an eye on you all night. I'm surprised you didn't crash sooner”

All night?

“You knew...” his voice came out as a whisper, still processing the information. The second time came out with more bravado. “You knew. You knew that the neighborhood needed help and you did nothing?”

“We had our hands tied, kid. Besides, it looked like you had it handled”

Peter wasn't paying attention to anything the man was telling him anymore. Someone else was coming and it dawned on him that the man was there to distract him, to keep him there so... So what? What were they going to do with him? This man wasn't Batman and even if he told him that he was, Peter couldn't trust him.

The problem was solved. The laughter was gone. Why couldn't the world leave him alone?

“Kid, are you listening?”

“I'm not going anywhere with you”

Peter jumped from the roof.

He had done this trick before and, luckily, this building was shorter than his home. That didn't mean that it didn't hurt when he stopped his free fall at the last minute with his arms, hearing the tell-tale pop of the arms going out of their sockets and then going back into place.

It hurt. Everything hurt. And it would keep hurting.

Peter didn't look back. He ran away from the building, biting his tongue so he wouldn't scream from the pain; he wasn't limping, he wouldn't allow himself to get caught so he forced his leg to properly step on the ground and push his body forward.

He didn't know where to go. He couldn't go back home and he couldn't go to the soup kitchen right now.

So he did the only thing he could think of and jumped inside a broken manhole.

Notes:

Everyone say hi to Jason! He's here for, like, two seconds and he's also a little bit of an asshole.
Would he hurt Peter? Probably not! But I think intimidation would be fair game for him.

Peter is not having a good time right now, but the next small arc is going to be easier on him. Let's all pray for him so he can hold on for a little longer!

Chapter 10

Blindly jumping into holes was (almost always) a bad idea.

That was a lesson Peter learned during his first days as Spider-man back in Queens, when he jumped into the sewers chasing down a man that stole money from an ATM machine, just to end up being the wrong hole and falling right into the black waters.

His suit had reeked.

Instead of dealing with it, Peter threw out his first design and tried to make up something new from scratch, ending with the suit Tony found strapped to his ceiling.

The good thing about this time was that Peter was aware of the nebulous but probable consequences, and made the educated decision that he didn't care. So when his body almost immediately hit the floor and rolled down concrete stairs, he wasn't surprised that it happened.

“Ugh” he groaned, mentally checking if he could feel his legs still attached to his body. They were and they were also in incredible pain, all of him was.

There were steps he should follow to check if he had a concussion or to check if he had a broken rib but he couldn't remember them. What he did remember was that he was running from someone...

Who?

As gentle as he could, Peter used the wall to his right to push himself up despite his whole body trembling under the pressure of its own weight.

The side of his head hurt so he softly touched the area with the tips of his hand and sighed in relief when it came out clean. No external bleeding then. Nothing to do to check if he had an internal one, tho.

He looked back at the hole in the ceiling from where he came in. It was actually not that high up, with a measly two-meters high metal ladder that divided the ceiling from the first step of the concrete stairs
Lighting was lackluster down there but the little Peter could see told him that he wasn't in the sewers as he expected.

The room was almost claustrophobic with how small and narrow it was, giving just enough space for the set of concrete stairs he was in that gave access to a second set of stairs. The second set of stairs went into two massive holes on both ends, disappearing into complete and utter darkness, as if the walls had mouths that were eating the stairs on both ends.

And that was it.

The air had an overpowering musty smell and all Peter could hear was the echo of the air traveling through the holes, giving him a vague idea of how large was this underground network of tunnels.

Peter paused.

This was the storm drain network.

It was completely dry right now but just a small rain could make it incredibly dangerous. Still, it was a good place to hide.

Steps echoed outside, quickly approaching the broken door of the drain system. If he was going to move, it needed to be now or the steady heartbeats would find him. However, they weren't as steady right now and that made it worse; of course they would be angry if he ran away, that's 101 of kidnapping for victims.

Gently he went down the last few steps and got into the second set of stairs. He looked up and then down. There was no difference between both holes in the walls but he was afraid of slipping and rolling down the stairs, so he started carefully climbing upwards using the walls of the tunnel to support himself.

Darkness and concrete walls slowly engulfed him, bewildering his senses for a second. For a moment, the only thing that existed around him was the unbreakable void, yet, his breathing echoed against the walls and his hands could sense the vibrations of the world that existed around him, painting an image of his surroundings in a way that he had never experienced before.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds around him and the sensations under his hands.

Voices came from the bottom of the stairs, bouncing through the walls. A modulated voice talked furiously, yet, they weren't moving for him. Not yet.

Peter couldn't stop to listen to them, he needed to find a place to hide before they hear him. He continued steadily climbing the stairs, silently moving through the dark until the tunnel’s walls ended and the air around him opened up.

He stood there for a second, breathing quietly so as to not disturb the sound of the air and the vibrations around him.

The air hummed in its journey through the system, stopped only by Peter's body standing in its way, and even then the breeze surrounded him in a cold hug just to keep its path. Its song bounced against the ceiling, mixing with the vibrations that carried the ghost of the city above. It was a tall room with two new sources of air in front.
The sound moved differently in both tunnels, yet Peter couldn't focus enough to discover what that meant, no when the voices in the previous room were starting to move. One down. One up.

With the deadline on his tail, Peter chose the tunnel on the left. The ceiling of this one was considerably lower than the one he had been walking on so he kneeled, doing his best to not complain at the pain, and crawled through the floor.

The heartbeat that went up reached the room he had been in and Peter could see the faintest traces of light through his eyelids. It was nerve-wracking.

He tried to go faster while making no sound, which was an accomplishment in itself. Then the soft echo of someone kneeling reached his ears and Peter froze.
Opening his eyes, he turned to look behind him and all he could see was light. It wasn't strong enough to reach where he was but for a moment Peter couldn't breathe. He waited for the person to start crawling his way and yet, the light went off.

And a light hum started.

“You know I can see you, right?” Came the modulated voice.

Right, ok, he found him. Peter took a deep, shaky breath.

“And I know you can't follow me”

“Who says I can’t?”

“I can't see but I still remember, you know? You are way too big to fit in here and I’ll be gone before your friend gets here”

That got a reaction out of the man, his breathing hitching for a second. “Who says I came here with someone?”

Peter snorted.

“You two aren't exactly quiet” And yeah, maybe Peter shouldn't actually give them time to catch up to him, so he turned around and started crawling again. “I’d love to stay here and catch up, but I'm actually terrified of you so I'm just gonna...”

“Wait, kid, where are you going? I already found you, you lost” Rustling came from behind him and Peter stupidly stopped moving, turning his head toward the sound even if he couldn't see.

He could hear the struggle in the dark and he experienced the shortest panic attack of his life when something brushed his feet. And then the man cursed loudly.

The wind started moving through the tunnel again.

Peter sighed in relief and turned around. “You are playing hide and seek. I'm playing tag and I'm winning”

“Bullshit, I just touched you” Yes, and Peter almost died from a heart attack.

“What did you say? I can't hear you over the sound of me crawling away”

“Kid, come back here, you need an hospital”

“That's so charitable of the person that shot at me, one hundred percent believabl-uf!”

The floor disappeared from under his hands and suddenly Peter was eating concrete again. The fall wasn't high at all, but somehow the dark made it even more painful.

“Are you alright?”

The voice, it sounded worried.

The rest of his body slipped from the tunnel and Peter whimpered. He wanted to go home. He wanted to throw himself on his soot-y bed and if he was at the point where he wanted that bed, then he must be pretty low. Underground, even.

“Stay there, we'll find a way to get to you”

No, they wouldn't.

The small cry of pain was unavoidable, but Peter managed to pull himself up again.

“Jesus Christ, kid. Just stay down already”

“I'm-” Oh, his lip tasted like blood now. “I'm gonna go”

The man called out to him, telling him to stay put, yet Peter had good practice not doing what he was told so he explored the wall by his left and carefully allowed the subtle changes in the air to guide him away from the small tunnel and into complete darkness again.
It took him a while to find the exit of this room but, by the time he did, the heartbeat on the other chamber was finally gone so Peter could finally take his time walking.

He entered one of those big tunnels and went down slowly, using the special grip of his hands to avoid slipping and hurting himself even more.

The echoes and the low ceilings had felt claustrophobic at first, but now that he was able to traverse the network at his own pace, he found the darkness comforting and the wind gently howling through the tunnels calming. So he kept steadily moving from chamber to chamber, not really paying attention where he was going, even when the fear and paranoia of being found subsided.

Down there it really felt like another world and the more he spent there, the easier it was to understand the vibrations on the walls and the way the wind hummed on big tunnels and howled through narrow ones.

If he strained his senses he could hear the people walking above and the way the tires of the cars scraped the pavement. It was like a lullaby and Peter wondered where he fit in it, what sound was he when he was above.
Standing in the middle of a massive chamber, hands on the ground so he could feel everything, he didn’t mind not being part of that song. His breathing and his heartbeat mixed quite well with the echoes of the concrete walls.

He should probably do this more often, to indulge that strange and new part of his brain that was always telling him to crawl to the ceilings and stand on the corners. This was awesome.

However, he couldn’t stay down here forever.

It was Monday after all and the truck was going to pass today and, after a night like that? People would be too busy to handle things like cooking.

Peter went a little blind when he forced the metal plate that stood as a door in the ceiling to open and the headache he had been ignoring all night came with a vengeance when the sound of cars wasn't muffled by tons of concrete. He stood there, body halfway out, while he acclimated again to reality.

When he was ready, he climbed out and made sure to not leave the hole open so no one would fall.

His back cracked as he straightened and looked around. An alleyway. Somehow he should have expected it. Somehow this city was overflowing with them and Peter would agree with Nath that the civil engineers of the city probably did it on purpose, if it wasn't for the fact that he bet against it.

Walking out of the alley, Peter was surprised to be able to tell where he was. Top-right corner of his mental grid, slightly out of his neighborhood but not by a lot. Had he done that on purpose? He had been walking aimlessly, there was no way he could see where he was going, and yet, he somehow managed to never leave the area.

...

He could unpack that later.

Right now, he needed to go to the soup kitchen or Dave would- Peter paused. The circumstances in which he left Dave returned to him and he winced. That was going to be an awkward conversation.

Still, it wasn't reason enough to miss the truck so Peter started limping his way back.

Walking through the streets was... an experience after last night. There, in that corner, he had taken down that grandma who tried to nail him with a small hammer, and in that store he had to stop someone from using boiling water to defend their merchandise. Oh yeah, he remembered that stain of blood, and look there! That's where he got hit by a bat in the shoulder.

Wherever he looked, he could see the echoes of his actions last night and they left a lot to be desired, if he said so himself.

People also certainly remembered because they avoided him, moving out of his path but never taking their eyes off him. They whispered between them but Peter did his best to not listen into their conversations, not wanting to hear how he failed them; instead, he forced himself to limp faster on the sidewalk.

The dilapidated soup kitchen was a sight that blessed his day and Peter couldn't stop himself from smiling like a little boy. However, the smile slowly faded from his face the closer he got to the building. Something was off. There was no line forming at the entrance and he couldn't see movement inside.
Ignoring his headache, he concentrated and caught the sound of two people angrily arguing inside: Dave... and a man he had never heard before.

Peter couldn’t truly run at that moment, but he found himself trying to do so anyway. The door opened easily under the weak strength he still had, short of flying open because, even if the night and the pain had left him feeling brittle, there was still some fight in him.
Dave’s head snapped to the door and Peter couldn’t breathe for a second. The right side of his face, right where he had punched him, was painted a bluish-black with dots of purples and reds at the edges.

His legs failed him.

He barely took two steps inside when Dave was already by his side, supporting him so he wouldn’t fall.

“Bring a chair” Dave ordered the other man and the other complied.

Right. Dave didn’t need his protection.

“Kid, where have you been? The whole world is going crazy looking for you” Dave told him while lowering him into the plastic chair, being careful with his injured leg.

That couldn’t be right, no one had stopped to talk with him on his way here.

“Did the truck already pass?” He ignored the question, trying his best to get back up, yet, Dave kept pushing him down into the chair. Peter allowed it.

“Down kid, the truck is not coming today”

“But,” Peter looked up at him and winced at the huge bruise, turning to the other man. “But is Monday”

“A Monday after a Joker’s attack. No one was going to show up” pointed out the man.

“Then why...?”

“I opened the kitchen because I knew you would try to come here” Dave confessed, passing one hand through his hair.

The confession warmed Peter's chest, and yet, he felt no relief. He squirmed at the sensation, feeling all kinds of unworthy.

“You were waiting for me” It wasn't a question, but Dave still nodded. “Why?”

“The fuck you mean why? I shot you and then you disappeared! I thought you fell in a ditch and died”

The other man turned to stare at Dave, squinting at him. “You shot him?”

“I thought you were going to be angry because I... left you with the kid”

Dave grew very still at the mention.

“What kid?” Asked the other, increasingly wary.

“I swear to god- Shut. Up” Dave turned to the man who gave him a killer glare but nodded. And then turned back to Peter. “You must be stupid”

Peter didn't know what to say to that.

“Kid, I shot you. If anything, you should be the angry one” Peter wanted to interrupt but Dave didn't give him the opportunity. “Zip it, kid. Yeah, you left me napping with a corpse, so what?” The man took a double take of Dave, scrunching his nose in disgust. “I wasn't the one that fought all night just to get shot by an ungrateful piece of shit”

“I should have-”

“Shoulda break me a second one the moment you saw me, that's what you should have done”

Peter took a long breath and held it, musing over the sensation of being too full. Dave was right, not only that, but Bucky would be furious to hear about him getting shot and becoming the one trying to apologize.
But it wasn't Dave's fault either, he had been under the influence of something he couldn't fight, hadn't been in control of himself...

“I'm not angry”

“You’re too gullible, kid” Dave sighed.

You... Are so gullible.

Peter flinched so violently that he stood up from the chair. He needed- He needed to go. He limped to the door as fast as he could, however, the stranger jogged beside him and stood in front of the door.

“Wow, easy kid, where are you going?” His tone was tender and that surprised Peter enough to stop him on his tracks. Somehow, he didn’t think anyone in this city knew how to talk like that. “Aren't you going to stay for the celebration?”

Peter blinked.

“There's nothing to celebrate...?”

“That's bull, kid. I heard Batman was impressed when he rolled in last night just to find almost all the infected laying on the ground in neat rows. You protected the whole place alone for an entire night. Tell me that's not impressive”

“I counted twenty-four dead” and that stunned the man into silence, whipping out his smile. But that was not what Peter wanted, he didn’t intend to be pedantic about it. He just wanted the memories to be gone. “I know the count is higher than that”

“C’mon kid” Dave sighed behind him and the tone got him wanting to curl down into a ball. And maybe that was what he needed, a moment on the floor to understand the painful knot in his throat.

The bullet wound in his leg sent a stab of pain when he tried taking a step back. Suddenly, Peter felt like crying.

“You didn't hesitate” Peter carefully sat down on the floor, keeping his wounded leg extended. “I did”

The room remained in silence, none of the adults moving from their places while Peter didn’t trust himself to talk because he was so sure his voice would break if he tried. All night. No matter how awful it got, he didn’t cry all night and he didn’t want to do it right now, not in front of the people he was supposed to protect; so he tried to blink the tears away and keep his breathing regular. Yet, his body betrayed him almost instantly, shaking with each shuddering breath and his mask feeling damp.

The man in front of him let out his air and sat down on the floor with him. “Hey, you did your best when no one else could do anything. Take the win, kid”

It didn't feel like a win at all.

Peter's stomach growled at that moment.

Dave chuckled and walked to them, taping the stranger on the shoulder.

“Do me a favor and go buy three hamburgers” the man frowned at Dave, mouthing three?, but Dave raised an eyebrow at him. “Four, if you really want to help”

The man looked between Peter and Dave but did get up from his place on the floor and left the building. Dave took a step closer, staring at the door.

“What face do you think he's going to make once he sees how you eat?”

That did make Peter chuckle.

“Do you think he’ll make fun of me?”

“Of course, just give him time to make himself comfortable” Dave smirked at Peter, but it didn't have his usual bite.

Peter offered a small smile and then remembered that Dave couldn't see his face so, for him, Peter had just been staring at him for a long second. Uncomfortable with the idea, Peter broke the contact and stared back at the door.

“Who's he?”

“Technically? Our boss”

Peter tilted his head. “We have a boss?”

“Technically” Dave repeated. “He’s one of the top dogs of the charity that manages this soup kitchen. He’ll be around for a bit, making sure things are good after the attack”

“I thought this place was yours?”

“It is” Dave crossed his arms, making himself stand taller. “No one is taking this place from me”

And that? That was a comforting thought. To have something that wouldn't change, even if it was kind of a lie.

A comfortable silence fell between them, both staring at the door of the building waiting for the other man to come back. Peter felt weirdly excited to eat lunch with them since Dave had asked for hamburgers; it had been a while since he ate one and it would be nice to also eat with company, even if he was going to end up eating under a table or something.
It was a nice touch that Dave remembered to ask for double portion for him too, although Peter hoped the other man only brought enough for the three of them. God knows how much the man was already going to pay for three hamburgers.

“Kid” Dave called him and Peter hummed in response, his mind still thinking about the food. “You shouldn't be walking around with that leg, you should get a place to rest-”

“Dave” Peter sighed, conflicted by the timing. “I have a place”

“Yeah? And where is that?” The door slammed shut and Peter jumped in his place, taken by surprise by the sudden reappearance of their boss. He hadn't even heard him open the door.

The man raised an eyebrow at Peter's reaction, a small amused smirk growing on his face. He had a paper bag in his arms along with a carton base with their drinks, so Peter hurried to get up.

“Sorry, let me help you”

“Is alright, kid. It doesn't-”

The man shut up when Dave went this side, snatched the paper bag from his arms, and casually turned to Peter, pressing the bag against his chest. “Eat up, kid”

“I- What-?”

“You aren't fooling anyone, kid. I think all the team knows how much you need to eat” Peter felt his cheeks grow warm at the comment, but nodded.

“I couldn't keep it a secret if I wanted to” he tried to be casual about it despite the embarrassing realization that not only Dave knew, which was to be expected, but also the whole crew. So he limped to one of the tables pushed to the corner and left the paper bag on it. “The secret is out. I'm going through puberty”

Their boss let out a loud snort. “Oh yeah, I also remember crawling on the walls at your age”

“It hit us all differently” Peter added, trying his best to sound wise.

Peter tried to be stealthy and take two of the hamburgers from the bag to leave them on the table, just to hurry under the table when Dave tried to call him out on it

“Hey! Come back here and take the goddamned burgers” Dave slammed his hand over the table but didn't peek under it.

The stranger got closer and Peter could see his legs from the corner in which he was pushed against, snickering at Dave's reaction. He could see the moment the stranger tried to kneel to peek under the table but was pulled back up by Dave.

“Are you really going to eat down there?” the man asked uncertain.

“Yes, and you aren’t invited”

Without wasting time, Peter took one of the hamburgers out of the bag, listening to how the man turned to Dave and whispered is he for real?, getting a laugh out of Dave. “Get used to it, he doesn't eat unless no one can see him”

“I'm shy!” Peter protested and Dave simply chuckled again.

After a long pause, the man quietly leaned down and left one of the cups with soda on the floor. And then his arm was gone and Peter could hear him passing one of the hamburgers to Dave and taking one for himself.

They ate in silence for about six minutes when the stranger asked “So Batman. Thoughts?”

“You're never this chatty” Dave grumbled under his breath, and since he didn't answer, Peter assumed the question was for him.

Considering how little he knew of the hero, Peter went for the safe option and said between bites, “A lot of people say he’s cool”

“They're idiots. What do you think?”

Fair enough. “I'm not sure, I haven't seen him before”

“You won't see him around here, kid” Dave commented, mouth clearly full.

“Damn right, this is Red Hood's territory” their boss retorted with strange excitement behind those words.

“It isn't,” Dave added “but that man will throw a fit if anyone breaths in his direction”

This time it was the stranger who grumbled under his breath.

The name caught his attention. Someone, he couldn’t remember who, had spoken a little about Red Hood.

“Is that the one with the red helmet?” “Yeah” “Oh... He kind of shot at me last night so I don't think I like him that much”

Dave choked on his hamburger and there was this charged silence for a long moment before he said anything.

“You don’t say?” Came Dave's voice, dripping with exasperation. “I wouldn't mind the guy. He's more than rough around the edges and crazier than a goat, but almost never hurt kids”

“Thanks, Dave, I feel so comforted by you” Peter teased.

“What did you even do to get on his bad side, kid?” the stranger's voice was strained.

Of course Peter knew, but he wasn't telling a stranger the details. “Is alright, almost everyone around here pulled a gun at me the first time they saw me. I'm only sad that I didn't think of adding his gun to the ones I've confiscated. My collection has been growing ever since I started it”

“Your what?” The man suddenly kneeled on the floor, voice mortified while he tried to establish eye contact, however, by the time he managed to peek underneath the table, Peter had already pulled his mask down, pushing himself deeper into the corner with his feet, kicking the rests of his hamburger away from him and staining his clothes and the floor.

“Don't. Look. At me!” Peter shrieked at the top of his lungs, hands still pulling his mask down even when he knew the man couldn't see his face. But did he manage to see him before that? What would happen to him if he did?

The loud, high-pitch scream startled the man into taking several steps back. Peter almost expected him to fall over dead, yet the man remained standing, both of his hands raised in front of him in a sign that he didn't mean to hurt Peter. But that wasn't the point, Peter didn't want to hurt him by accident, and even if he couldn't see his face, the stranger’s heart was...

Oh?

It wasn't racing.

It wasn't calm either, but Dave's heart was hammering away in his chest, but this man’s-

“I didn't see anything, I promise” he said firmly.

Peter didn't say anything, waiting for the next shoe to drop- Or body. But a full minute passed and the man remained standing, completely still as if waiting for Peter's approval to move again. The accumulated dread slowly subsided, and Peter allowed himself to breathe again, because his carelessness didn't hurt anyone this time around.

“You didn't see?” He asked softly, wanting to be sure.

“Didn't see a thing” The stranger repeated.

The man didn't see. He was safe.

God, he almost got a heart attack “Don’t do that!”

“Won't do it again” and, oh, the way his heart fluttered with those words were of note. This man was lying to him.

“I mean it!”

“I know, I'm sorry. I won't do it” Another white lie.

Peter took a pickle from the floor and threw it his way. “I'm being serious!”

“Kid, nothing is going to happen if I see your face, also, you throw like a baby” the man rolled his eyes, smirking at him.

And Peter couldn't tell him why he shouldn't look at him because that would create more questions that would be too dangerous to answer, so he steamed in his own frustration. Up until the point that a pickle actually landed on the man's face, staining him with ketchup.

“Cut it out” Dave warned him. “Don't make me file a complaint for harassment”

“Those are staff only” the man lifted an eyebrow, flicking the pickle that Dave threw his way away from his face and into the floor.

“One, I can file a complaint about your behavior with anyone if I want to; two, the kid is staff”

The stranger's eyes widened at that, like he hadn't expected it. And then squinted at Dave. “You haven't reported that”

Dave shrugged. “The kid just started and the forms I requested haven't arrived yet. Bureaucracy is a bitch if you don’t remember”

“Pff, yeah. So how’s mopping the floor treating you kid?”

“Uhm, good, I guess? I don't actually do it that often-" "Hector is our in-house cleaning freak” Dave cut him off before Peter could end that sentence.

“So you help cooking?” The man tried again.

“He’s not allowed to, not until he gets those gloves out of the way” Dave deadpanned.

Peter shrugged. “I know they are dirty, but I do try to clean them as often as I can”

“You know this is not up to debate. You got the gloves on, you won't cook”

“Wait, what do you do then?”

“I’m in charge of unloading the truck” Peter straightened as much as the table over him would allow, proud of his contribution to the soup kitchen even if it wasn't much. “I help with cleaning too!... When Hector isn't too picky about it”

The man nodded and for a moment he seemed deep in thought, silently calculating something, and then turned to Dave. “You aren't paying him a full shift just for that, are you?”

“He works the full shift,” Dave lied without hesitation. “Or do you think that unloading the truck alone is easy?”

“It wouldn't take the whole shift, there's also more than five people here. Per standard process, unloading the truck must be done by at least two people or you risk someone getting injured”

“Wait,” both men turned to Peter who was playing with the paper wrapping of his second hamburger. “This is, like, a job? An actual job?”

“Yes”
“No”

Both stared at each other, unimpressed by the other’s answer.

“So it is but it isn't” Peter repeated, amused by their reactions. The stranger rubbed at his eyes while Dave shrugged.

“This place used to be run by volunteers, and it still is” Dave explained. “We just bit the bullet and merged with one of the city’s charities so we didn't have to keep paying for everything out of pockets we didn't have”

“Which makes it a job” The other man crossed his arms. “Even if this place is now working for a sister charity of the Martha Wayne Foundation, people are paid for their time and effort”

“Is a token payment” Dave answered back, and Peter was sure the other man was rolling his eyes.

“Twenty dollars per hour is not a token payment, is way over the minimum”

“That sounds reasonable” At least it was back home.

“Kid, on which side are you on?” Dave asked irritated.

Peter didn’t have time to answer since someone knocked on the door and Peter could hear the door creaking softly while it opened. He went to get out of under the table, however, his new boss raised a hand, telling him to stay where he was while he stood up; however, the one to speak up was Dave.

“Good morning. sorry, but due to yesterday’s incident, we didn’t receive today’s food. If you go to-”

“I’m sorry, I’m not here for that” A woman’s voice cut Dave short. A rustling came from where she was and, if Peter had to bet, he would say that it was a plastic bag. “Is.. Uhm, is the kid here? Spider?”

“Is Spider-man, ma’am” Peter called while he dragged himself out from his hiding place, gaining a small glare from his boss, but why would he hide? He recognized that voice. “and yes! Do you need a hand? Also, I’m sorry about your front door, I’ll see what I can do about it”

The woman from the laundromat stood at the entrance of the soup kitchen, eyes glued to his leg while he limped to her. Just as he had guessed, she had a small plastic bag in her hands which she was clutching with a dead-grip now that he was in her sight. Maybe it would be a good idea to go back to his building and get changed to avoid scaring others.

“God” was all she said for a long moment. “I- Don’t worry about the door, my neighbor offered to interchange one of my doors for the one at the front. Here” She offered the bag to Peter. “A few of the neighbors came together and gathered some painkillers for you, someone also offered some bandages but I don’t think it would be a good idea to use them”

Curiosity peaked, Peter opened the bag to take a peek inside. There were some plastic packages with missing tablets, along with a transparent plastic bottle with tablets that had been clearly taken from different brands and boxes; there was a small roll of bandages but just as the woman said, Peter wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to use it since it had a big yellow stain and something that could be mud or something else entirely.
Doing some mental math, with the number of tablets he could have enough to actually feel the effect of the medicine and have enough for the future... However, none of the medicine was labeled and Peter wasn’t sure if these were different brands of ibuprofen or a combination of different painkillers.

He might risk it if his leg didn’t heal fast enough during the week.

“Thank you so much!”

The woman nodded and awkwardly took a few steps back and waved goodbye at Peter. Outside was a small group of bystanders waiting for the woman and scattered when Peter waved at them.

Closing the door, Peter turned to both men and let out a long sigh. “From one to ten, how good of an idea would be to use these?”

“At least you are aware,” His boss told him, snatching the bag from his hands and doing his own inspection of the contents, and then took one of the plastic packages. “You aren’t taking these”

“Why? What are those?”

“I don’t know” The man lied, putting the package in the pockets of his jeans.

Peter made a face but he chose to not say anything about it, he was the one that asked first. “Well, I guess I’ll be able to take a good nap with all of this”

“You sure, kid? I don’t think it would be a good idea to take anything someone gave you on the street” Dave commented, mouth full again with his hamburger.

Oh yeah, Peter still had his second hamburger. He should eat before going back home.

“I know, but I’m kind of desperate. I’ll heal but gunshots always take longer”

“That’s how it normally works” Dave snorted.

However, his boss squinted at him, weighing his comment before asking, “You heal faster?”

It didn’t sound like a question, more like he wanted to hear the words coming from Peter despite already knowing the answer which made Peter nervous. It kind of reminded him of the way Tony stole all of his secrets by poking around his room during a conversation that lasted less than fifteen minutes.

“Um”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, he says he can lift a car too” Dave's nonchalance was welcomed most of the time. Not right now.

“Anyway, I think I’ll finish my hamburger and then go home if the truck is not passing today” Peter rushed to the table but froze when Dave talked again.

“Actually kid, I was thinking of bringing you to a place to patch you up. Do you remember the hospital I talked to you about?” He then glanced at Peter’s leg. “I don’t care if it’ll heal, you are gonna catch something on whatever dumpster you’ve been living in, so at least get it checked”

“Dave, I don’t have the money to go to the hospital. I’ll heal, I just need to get some food in my system and I’ll be bett-”

“Bullshit, kid” His boss had a growing smirk on his face, like he had won a bet. Peter had the feeling that he was missing some context here. “The place is not far from here. The price is low, is pretty much 24/7, and the first round is on me”

“But-”

“Shut it, kid” Dave spoke up. “Finish your hamburger. We are bringing you to the hospital after that”

Notes:

I'm gonna be real, I don't remember when I uploaded the last chapter but I'm assuming it's uploading week so! here you go!
If you wanna get an idea of how it looks down there, you're in luck! If you weren't curious, well, you get the link anyways: https://youtu.be/Fyhhatyymos?si=nw6F02d_0uCQT1HY

I'll give you two hearts if you guess who the boss is supposed to be XD
Also, these next chapters I wanted to give Peter a small break and allow him to get that deserved breakdown after all the things that have been happening in his life, so expect things to be calm for a bit <3

After like three months, I finally sat down and wrote chapter 18! The little buffer I created by not uploading all the chapters in one go is doing the heavy lifting here but I think I'm going to run out of chapters before we actually reach the first third of the story. I think is really ironic because I have been actually writing a lot! but nothing related to this fic XDD

as always, hope you like this chapter!!

Chapter 11

Somehow ending up being bullied by his boss and a coworker into getting in a car with them while they drove him to a place he might know where it was but also not really, was not the most careless thing Peter had done al week, which was rather telling for the type of life he had have up until this point. However, it was still rather embarrassing that it ended up happening.

Still, Peter perked up when they pulled by the side of the street, in front of the hospital he had visited the night before. This was perfect! He was planning on coming here anyway, so this worked in his favor.

Since Dave and his boss were busy discussing whether Dave's car was too old or not, Peter got out of the car and walked into the hospital without saying a word to them. They might be doing him a huge favor by bringing him to get a checkup, and even if he logically knew that getting his wound cleaned by a professional was the best outcome, he still resented that they were treating him like a little kid.

The nurse who had been handling the front desk last night was gone, and now a man was sitting in the same chair, filling up papers by hand while slightly banging his head at the rhythm of the song playing on his small earphones. He was clearly used to getting visits from strange people because he smiled warmly at Peter when he noticed him, getting the earphones out of his ears instead of raising his eyebrows like everyone else did the first time they saw Peter.

Peter waved at him and started talking even before reaching the desk.

“Hi! Sorry to bother, but yesterday I brought a man here to get hel,p and I just wanted to know if he's alright. Is that something you can tell me?”

The nurse hesitated for a moment, leaving the documents alone so he could type something on the computer. “I’m sorry, are you a relative of this man? I don’t think I can tell you otherwise.”

Peter deflated at the answer but shook his head and thanked the nurse. There was no reason to lie despite the uncertainty eating at him.

He stood there for a second, thinking if he should ask for a checkup. Dave was right, it would be better to get his wounds cleaned and maybe deal with the stitches... But what if the doctor refused to check him unless he took his mask off? It wouldn't interfere with the actual medical evaluation, but some people couldn't stand him being masked back home.

Not liking that idea, Peter turned around and took a step, only to crash against his boss, who was smirking down at him.

“Going anywhere, squirt?” he put a hand on Peter's shoulder, the gesture confusingly gentle despite the mischievous smile. His boss turned to the nurse. “Hey, is Leslie free? Please tell her a friend is looking for her”

The nurse nodded and started a call with the desk phone. After a minute he hung up.

“She’ll be here in a moment”

Well, there goes his last chance to walk out quietly. Peter could very much escape without issues, but after the night he had? He didn't want to run right now.

“If you already knew where to go, why didn't you come here first?” Dave was standing to the left of their boss, looking very much irritated with Peter's lack of survival instincts.

Peter shrugged. “Didn't have the money”

That was a lie. It never occurred to him to come here, but money would have been an issue anyway so he went with that. Dave didn't look convinced at all.

“If something like this happens again, come here and ask for Leslie. She'll put it on my tab” his boss answered casually.

The sheer idea of doing something like that mortified Peter, but then it occurred to him. “Oh, is that, like, a job benefit?”

His boss lifted an eyebrow. “Staff do have health insurance but not here. You live around here and have no means of transportation, so I'll handle the paperwork to appoint Leslie as your doctor” Peter nodded, absolutely dazzled at the prospect of having healthcare. “Good. No matter the time, if you have a problem come talk with Leslie and she’ll help you out”

There was no way that was true, right? Him? Having healthcare as an actual job benefit? After just a week of being in Gotham? Surely something was amiss here. His luck had never been that good.

“B-but I don't have my documents and-”

“You aren't the first without papers” the man snorted, like the idea of lacking proper documentation being a problem was hilarious to him. “I'll handle your case”

Peter was looking at his boss under a new light now.

He has healthcare. Actual blessing-from-the-capitalism-gods healthcare. Somehow he landed a job with law-abiding benefits before getting proper housing. Peter was going to be reeling about it the rest of the day.

“Jesus Christ, you couldn't even offer a chair to the poor kid?”

A woman who looked far too young to have gray hair approached them, her heels making a constant clicking noise while she made a beeline for Peter. “Good morning, I'm Doctor Leslie Thompkins. Do you need a wheelchair?”

Peter shook his head absentmindedly, impressed by the fact that the woman was running around the hospital in heels. How long were shifts for doctors, again?

“He didn't even want to get checked. I had to bribe him to get him in the car,” his boss answered while slightly pushing Peter toward the doctor. “He's all yours.”

Leslie frowned at his boss, probably not liking the way he was trying to push Peter around like a scared animal. While Peter didn't mind since he knew the man couldn't move him if Peter didn't allow it, he was also not thrilled by it, and remained quiet only by virtue of the man offering to handle the non-existent documentation for Peter.

Since Peter rejected the wheelchair, the doctor instructed him to follow her and they walked slowly through the hallway to a small consulting room.
Without wasting time, she asked him to sit down on the examination table and got to work, asking quick questions regarding the injuries she slowly found in his body.

Obviously, the gunshot was the first thing Leslie found, gently cleaning the skin around it and stitching him up; she also worked on the cut below his shoulder which, sadly, also needed a few stitches. However, there were more slashes and bruises that Peter wasn't even aware of, which was all fine and good; he was aware that he hadn't been doing his best so it wasn't a surprise that he had been injured so many times, what was mortifying was the fact that the doctor had him standing up in the middle of the room in only his briefs at some point. It was a good thing that his mask covered all his face because otherwise the doctor would have seen his cheeks going aggressively red for the remainder of their time together.

She never asked him to take off his mask, but did ask if he had hit his head at some point. Peter lied about it because saying ‘Yes, I jumped into a hole and then rolled down some stairs’ sounded way too stupid.

“Alright, we are done here. You can put your clothes on again” Peter nodded and started getting dressed. “If I see you back in less than a day with one of the stitches pulled, we are going to have a problem, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Rest as much as you can too. The wound in your leg became swollen after all that movement, so even if it is looking far better than what a normal gunshot should look, it needs rest”

Peter nodded again, not making any promises, and it looked like Leslie noticed it since her expression became serious for a moment and then relaxed, letting out a long sigh.

“Look, if you ever need it, no matter the time, come here and we’ll help, ok? Do you have anywhere to rest?”

“Somehow, people won't stop asking me that,” Peter chuckled.

“I'm not surprised,” her expression softened again, and she smiled at Peter, however, she looked... mournful. “What you did last night was impressive, but don't forget to take care of yourself. You can't help others if you are unwell.”

Peter paused for a brief moment, considering the last comment. It somehow sounded loaded with emotion, and, guessing by her downcast expression, maybe she was used to saying it out loud quite often. Perhaps someone in her family was an adrenaline junkie and kept getting hurt.

It wasn't the best idea to project that onto Peter, who was certainly going to get hurt again.

“Don't worry doc! I'm always careful!” He blatantly lied to the woman and she knew it, but didn't call him out on it.

After a short pause, Leslie nodded to herself and stood up from her seat, walking to the door and then turning to Peter with a polite, yet, sad smile.

“I'll escort you back to your friends, then.”

It came as a surprise to Peter that not only Dave and their boss were still sitting in the main lobby of the hospital waiting for him, but they were also talking with each other quite amicably, checking something out on their boss's cellphone. So far, it was obvious that at least Dave had an idea of who their boss was as a person and had a not-so-great impression of him, judging by all of his sarcastic comments; but seeing him sitting there alongside their boss, he looked comfortable enough to relax and have an actual conversation with the other man.

The clicking of Doctor Thompkins’ heels grabbed the attention of their boss, who subsequently elbowed Dave and briefly pointed at Peter. The change was immediate. Dave’s whole body tensed at the sight of him and, while it wasn’t extreme enough to trigger the easy panic of the other citizens, it was visible enough for Peter.

Peter stopped in his tracks.

Was that... Was that Dave’s reaction whenever he knew Peter was coming? All this time Peter had thought of the man as somewhat nonchalant about almost everything in life, except for his management of the kitchen. Yet, Peter had never seen him as calm as he was beside their boss and, as a consequence, had never truly seen Dave reacting to him.

Perhaps Peter should have thought about it before. Dave was a good person, if a little rough when talking, but he had offered him a hand from the start. That didn't mean he was comfortable acting like Peter's personal babysitter. Did he feel responsible for Peter because of how excited Peter acted around him?
Peter felt stupid all of a sudden. What was he doing? Sent to a different world after screwing up the last person that cared for him, after getting them killed, just to latch onto the first person that showed him some human decency.

Yes, Dave was a good person, but Peter was overstaying his welcome by his side.

His boss must have sensed that something wasn’t quite right because Peter saw him stand up, eyes glued to him with a slight frown. Following his line of sight, Doctor Thompkins turned around and Peter could see the exact second she processed how far away they were from each other, Peter having stopped walking a while ago.

“Are you alright?”

“Um” His mouth felt dry. What could he say? Can't go with them because he didn't want the man he saw as a friend to feel obligated to help him? Which was alright! Because if Peter remained by his side Dave would end up dead anyway just like every single person that tried to care for him? That he was cursed with his family's luck even though he couldn't use their last name ever again? That he just wanted to curl up on the floor at all times and the only thing pushing him forward was the constant reminder that he was Spider-man, and Spider-man would never do something like that? “I-”

Instead of saying anything, Peter stared dumbly while the doctor turned back and locked eyes with his boss. There was something there, a small conversation that Peter wasn't privy to, and then Leslie turned back to him.

She was confused, to say the least, but talked softly to him. “Do you need a moment? Perhaps we can go back to the consulting room if you don’t feel ready to go”

Good, so he was now running away from the only people that offered him help. Peter wanted to tell her that no, he could go right to them and tell them that he was good for the day and would see them tomorrow at work, that he was grateful that they brought him to get checked up but he could go home by himself.

He said none of that.

Instead, he nodded at the suggestion of the doctor and turned around without a word, sensing the pair of eyes on the back of his head.

He was being childish and the worst thing was that he could feel his whole body trembling with his efforts to not cry in the middle of the hallway. It could be that yesterday's tension had finally caught up to him and he just needed some time to let it pass through, just like Aunt May used to say.

So he allowed himself to be guided back to the consulting room, gentle hand on his shoulder.

Once inside, Doctor Thompkins sat him down in one of the small chairs. It was a little uncomfortable.

“You can stay here for a moment. I have to step out, but I'll be back in a few minutes, ok?”

Peter nodded and realized too late that he didn't want to stay there. He didn't want to be alone. The doctor stepped out of the room before Peter could ask her to stay with him a little longer, and her heels echoed in the hallway while she rushed somewhere else.

Ah.

She was walking back to the lobby...

That didn't sit well with Peter. Was she going there to talk with Dave and their boss? What was she going to tell them? Would his boss continue working on his case after this? God, he was being difficult without reason and his boss was going to drop him because he was too much of a hassle.
What was wrong with him? Today was an easy day, everyone was telling him to just rest and somehow he found a way to be stressed out even worse than when he had finals.

Peter could hear the echoes of Dr. Thompkins talking in the lobby and he didn't want to know what she was saying, what she was telling them.

He- Peter needed to move. No matter if his leg needed rest, no matter if he was in pain, he needed to move yesterday or he was going to lose it. Maybe he didn't even have his sanity anymore.

Sniffing loudly -When did he start crying?- Peter got up from the chair and walked into the hallway, moving away from the lobby and deeper into the hospital. It was a terrible idea since the thick smell of antibiotics and alcohol was starting to give him a headache, but he preferred the sound of machines beeping to the currently overwhelming chatting from the lobby.

Now, he wasn't saying that the insides of the hospital were calm, far from it. There were people screaming here, and people who wept inconsolably from the quietness of their rooms, but they were comforting compared to the silence in the consulting room. It made him feel less lonely. So he sat in a small waiting room on the third floor of the hospital and tried to take deep breaths, focusing on the memory of May taking his hands and guiding him through his grief, just after Uncle Ben’s death.

He caught the echo of steps and even when he felt the sofa shift under the weight, he didn't move, eyes closed, and concentrated on his breathing.

“I told Dave to go home, he was sorry he couldn't say goodbye”

Peter opened his eyes but didn't turn to look at the man. He chuckled at the idea of Dave being sad for something like that, Peter knew enough of the man to know that couldn't be his reaction.

“No, he wasn't”

“He wasn't” his boss admitted. “Told me he was going to get wasted the rest of the day”

“That sounds more like him”

They sat in silence for a while and, since Peter wasn't sure what to say, he closed his eyes and focused on the dripping sound of the intravenous bag at the end of the hallway. Whoever was in that room must be asleep since he could hear their slow breathing.

The man beside him let out a long sigh, and if Peter had been paying attention, he might have heard how shaky it was.

“Kid, what happened?” His boss asked gently.

It was his turn to sigh. That was a good question and Peter wasn't sure of the answer.

“I'm sorry... It wasn't my intention to be this difficult”

The man hesitated for a second. “You're a kid, you are supposed to be difficult”

The man tried to say it with conviction and he sure as hell sounded serious when he said it. Yet, there was a small waver under his tone, as if he was uncertain if this was the right thing to say, the right thing to do.

Peter could relate. He didn't know what he was doing 24/7.

“Don't tell me. Feelings are hard?” Peter teased.

“You don't even have an idea” The man let out his air, combing his hair with his hand and looking just as stressed out as Peter felt. “I'm trying god damn hard so don't make fun of me”

“I wouldn't dare. I also don't know what the hell I'm doing”

“That doesn't make this any easier”

Peter hummed in agreement. “I think it makes it harder. Like two idiots trying to send a man to the moon”

“I'll be idiot one if you are idiot two” His boss offered.

“I would prefer to be idiot A or maybe Chocolate thun-da”

The man beside him snorted out loud. “That movie is trash, kid”

“Yeah, but you still recognized it”

“Touche” he said, standing up and turning to Peter to offer him a hand. “Truce?”

Look at that, he managed not to talk about his feelings. What a win.

Peter took his hand and allowed the man to pull him up, helping him stand up without putting pressure on his leg. “For today, truce”

“Of course it is for today. We are talking about this later” the man replied sarcastically and Peter raised an eyebrow at that. He could play that game too.

“Oh yeah? I already have you here, so why don't we talk it out?”

He tried to sit down again but the man pulled him back from his shoulders, his heart skipping a beat at the suggestion. “I got you up, you don't get to sit back down”

Peter chuckled at the reaction, covering his mouth so the sound wouldn't disturb the quietness of the waiting room.

“So, kid, got somewhere to go?” His boss raised an eyebrow, confusing Peter in the process.

They had talked about this a few hours before, he knew that Peter had a place. Still, given that he couldn't trust himself to be alone right now, and that he didn't want to be alone in the first place, he shook his head.

“Not today”

The man smiled as if that had been the answer he expected. “Well, if you are willing, I have a few errands to run but I can offer food along the way”

“Oh, so you just want an assistant?” Peter teased.

“What? You backing down?”

“As if” With that, Peter started walking back to the elevators. “I’ll let you know that I do have some experience in administration”

The man raised an eyebrow at him, amused by the prospect of Peter having experience and assuming that he was lying. It wasn't like Peter could tell him that Pepper sometimes needed help back home and Tony was too fixated on a new project to be of help, so a really few times the issue got delegated to Peter. At least until Pepper managed to find someone better suited for the job.

To say that he had experience might be a little too generous, but it wasn't a complete lie.

Still, his boss didn't challenge him, taking the comment as a joke between them. And maybe Peter should actually ask the man’s name if he was going to be around him the rest of the day.

“Hey, I have been meaning to ask, but what’s your name? I can't keep referring to you as Boss in my head”

“Why not? I keep referring to you as Kid in mine, unless you want to give me a name I can use in your paperwork?”

“Not a chance, Boss”

Boss let out a loud half-laugh. “You’re really going to force me to use Spiderman in your documents?”

“First of all, there is a hyphen in there” And that made Boss let out a full-on cackle.

The ride on the elevator was fast and quiet, filled mostly with the sound of Boss making a call to someone and requesting a car for them. They waited less than twenty minutes by the time two cars pulled up at the front of the hospital; a man got down to wave at them and then got on the second car to leave, leaving them with the first car, keys on the pilot seat.

It was... Oddly efficient.

“Ready to go, squirt?” Boss asked him while opening the copilot door for him.

“Yeah, I'll just-” With a little bit of help from his sticky hands, Peter got into the seat without putting pressure on his injured leg. It didn't hurt as much since the doctor gave him a few painkillers, but they weren't strong enough for his metabolism so Peter wanted to be careful.

With Peter inside the car, the man closed the door and walked around the car to get to the pilot seat.

They were already a few streets away from the hospital when Boss commented, “You know? You're showing terrible stranger danger by getting in a car with someone you just met”

Yes, he was, but it was a conscious decision from Peter. Also, that was rich coming from the man who asked him to come with him.

As serious as he could, Peter answered, “If I derail the car and we roll over, I would 100% survive. I don't know about you”

“What the fuck, kid” Boss laughed elated by the comment, but there was the smallest hint of trepidation in his voice that surprised Peter.

So Boss did think Peter could do it and, well, Peter could but he wasn't going to. Getting in a car crash was not on his plans today, but they could leave it like a fun weekend activity.

The errands were pretty basic stuff. Go here, wait in the car while Boss went to talk with someone, and drive somewhere else; Peter wanted to go out with Boss so he wouldn't die of boredom in the car, yet, the man insisted on Peter not walking to let his leg rest.
It wouldn't have worked so flawlessly if it wasn't for the fact that the seats were surprisingly comfortable and that Peter had been awake all night.

He blinked once. Twice. And then he was fast asleep, vaguely aware of whenever someone opened the door of the car and whenever the car’s engine purred to life.

It was the hunger that woke him up. The sky was painted red and Peter barely processed that it was probably because of the sunset and not because something was burning up in the distance. He stirred on the seat of the car, rolling around until he could see the pilot seat.

“So you are alive” the man smiled, keeping his eye on the road. “I tried to wake you up for lunch, but you sleep like a log”

“What time is it?” Peter tried to ask but his words came out as pure slurred gibberish.

Thankfully, Boss seemed to understand him. “7 p.m., a little early for dinner but we can pull up if you need it”

Peter nodded to the offer, slowly trying to find a way to straighten the back of his seat which, he didn't actually remember moving? He took a glance at the man and then continued searching.

Boss pulled over after a few minutes, wordlessly turning off the car and getting out. Peter blinked, still a little bit drowsy, and let out a yelp when the door on his side opened. “Out, kid, you aren't eating in my car”

So out he was.

Somehow the street cart just a few steps away from them surprised him, telling him that maybe he had been more exhausted than expected. Maybe his boss realized the same because he asked him to stay there and walked to the cart. When he came back, he had three wrapped burritos in his hands.

The man passed him two and Peter couldn't stop himself from staring. They were massive!

“If you are still hungry after that, tell me” Boss told him while unwrapping his own burrito.

Peter nodded happily and didn't stop to think about what he was doing until he felt his fingers slipped under the edge of his mask.

...

Ah.

His face.

He is supposed to be hiding his face.

“Something wrong?” Asked Boss beside him. He sounded casual, yet, Peter could clearly see him glancing in his direction out of the corner of his eye.

Boss had set him up.

Peter wanted to groan, suddenly irritated by the man’s presence. How difficult was it to leave him be? His irritation increased at the small smirk forming on the commissure of Boss’ mouth, smug at his half-baked plan. Well, Peter wasn't going to let him win out of principle so he sat down on the floor, leaving his burritos on his lap, and struggled for a moment to leave the sleeves of his hoodie empty so they were in his torso and then pushed the hoodie over his head. Once he was in his improvised cocoon, he reached for one of the burritos and lifted his mask just enough to start eating.

“You look ridiculous, kid” Boss talked beside him, sounding displeased.

He was probably right and this position wasn’t the best to eat, but Peter was more than satisfied to easily derail his boss’ plan and still get the food. Now, he just needed to be ready to lower his mask in case the man tried to take his hoodie from him.

They ate in silence, Peter pretty much inhaling the burritos in minutes and feeling close to being satiated for the first time since he got to Gotham. Not only that, but the burritos tasted amazing!... Or maybe Peter was simply too hungry to know better. No matter what was the truth, he pulled his head through the hole of his hoodie and turned to Boss.

“Thanks for the food! It was really good!”

“Still hungry?”

“No, thanks” he lied.

The man squinted slightly at him but nodded, taking the last few bites of his own food. “I'm done with the errands, where should I drop you?”

“Um,” That was a good question that Peter didn't want to answer. He now knew the address of his building, but he hadn't told anyone where he was sleeping and it was better to leave it like that. So the safe answer was... “Could you leave me at the soup kitchen?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that's open anymore, squirt”

“No, but I live close by so I can just walk. Takes me less than five minutes”

For a moment the man seemed ready to protest, however, he surprised Peter by nodding and asking Peter to get in the car. It took at least forty minutes to get back to Peter's neighborhood, forty minutes in which both kept fighting over controlling the radio of the car; Peter insisted on listening to a music program of old rock while Boss kept changing it back to the news despite not being even mildly interested in what they were reporting, a smug smile on his face whenever Peter protested.

“Go home, kid” Boss told him once they parked in front of the soup kitchen, stopping Peter from getting out of the car.

Peter nodded but didn't make any promises. “Thanks for bringing me back”

“I'm serious, I don't want to hear tomorrow that you were running around with that leg”

“It doesn't even hurt that much anymore!” And he wasn't lying this time. He gotta start giving himself time to actually sleep because that, mixed with the visit to the doctor, had done wonders for his struggling healing factor.

Boss didn't look impressed. “I'll tell Leslie”

“Alright, deal! I won't go out tonight” he chuckled at the warning. He wanted a good night of sleep anyway.

He waved goodbye to the man and started walking away, not in the direction of his building, not yet. Peter glanced back when he heard the car moving and kept walking until he could see it turn around the corner.

Once he was sure that the car was gone, he started the actual walk home, breathing deep the fresh air of the night and listening closely to his surroundings in case he was needed. He knew he had reached the right street by the sound of spare heartbeats coming from the blackened buildings, figures moving away from the windows at the sight of someone new walking down the street.

Peter sighed.

It was big talk to say that he didn't want anyone to know where he lived. It was true and it was a decision based on his own experience, and maybe those lessons drilled into him about security by his aunt. Yet, there was nothing he could truly do if more people stared at the burnt-up buildings and thought of them as a possible home despite the clear structural damage because, if Peter was honest, he could hear the concrete walls cracking with each step and the way the ceilings threatened him every morning when he woke up.

Still, and more importantly, Peter didn’t want to chase those heartbeats away knowing how small and afraid they were.

He looked up and waved to a small figure on the window, even if the body ducked immediately, out of sight. Nine heartbeats. Three moved out then, and one sounded new to his ears.

As things were, there wasn't a lot Peter could do regarding the increasing rotation, but at least hoped that those who walked away were able to rest for the night and left because they found better chances in a shelter. In the end, he was glad that his street, that these buildings were being used as a pit stop and not as a permanent residence.

For the first time in a while, exhaustion didn't pull at him like a heavy cover but he couldn't ignore the gift of a night so silent. Looks like everyone in the neighborhood had decided to stay indoors after what happened the night before and while they would be out the next night, Peter climbed the stairs of his building and went to his apartment, careful to close the door behind him.

Notes:

Every time I read an old chapter, I'm blown away by how good some of these paragraphs are. It really doesn't feel like the new chapters I'm writing are this good, but then again, it didn't feel like it when I wrote this one, so maybe my brain is just being mean.

Hope you like the chapter!!

Chapter 12

Staying asleep was a challenge that Peter wasn't going to win this time around.

Gotham was a loud city just like his old home, yet, the sounds of gunshots were more prevalent here. Not that they happened all day and all night, but they were obviously more frequent, along with the never-ending screams.

There must be something in the water that kept the citizens perpetually angry.

Or maybe it was just something that you could only understand if you lived and breathed in the city. Something that Peter might be able to understand someday.

Still, today was one of those nights where the noise was increasingly annoying but not loud enough to make him worry. Was it gunshots? Yes. Was it nearby? Possibly. Should he check it out? Maybe, but also, the city had its own heroes and they survived without problems when he wasn't there, so they probably had it under control. And yes, he was still bitter about being left alone the night before, but in reality, he just didn't want to get up.

The night was cold but the firefighter coat was doing a good job keeping him warm and his bed felt so soft. It was a shame that no matter how much he rolled and tried to find a good position, the sound of gunshots kept him awake like a persistent mosquito you couldn't kill.

Groaning loudly, Peter admitted defeat and sat on the bed. He let out a long yawn and waited for his eyes to be a little less heavy.

There was this muted pain coming from his leg, yet, it really couldn't compare with the pain of that morning. As far as Peter was concerned, he was ready to take on the world... At least physically. Mentally, he was still lying down.

Taking a deep breath, Peter dragged himself out of bed and started stretching to help himself wake up. The last thing he needed was to get shot because he was too drowsy to move out of the way.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he considered changing his clothes since he still had that massive blood stain on his leg and the gash on his back, but he was willingly walking into a shooting. Ruining the good pair of sweats he had wasn't worth it.

So, a little more awake, he climbed out the window and started moving through the rooftops toward the sound.

The shooting was a little farther away from what -he decided- constituted his neighborhood, yet, close enough that if anyone showed up he could pretend he was there to defend his territory or something. The most important thing was that, guiding himself with the echo, the guns they were using were of a higher caliber than what he had seen so far in Gotham. So, this was a proper group of criminals.

Nothing new but certainly made things a little more difficult.

He got closer to the altercation, listening closely to count how many people were present. It wasn't anything big so far, even less if he assumed that the five heartbeats on the right were one group and the other thirteen were another. Not an even cut and those five heartbeats were being easily overpowered.
Still, all of them together were more than what Peter should be taking on alone, especially if he was technically still hurt.

There was something familiar about some of those heartbeats, but Peter wqs willing to ignore it for a moment to try to come up with a proper plan, and avoid getting sho-

“Shit, I'm not drunk enough for this” Dave complained.

Holy shit.

“You shouldn't be drunk, to begin with” Elisa chastised him.

Throwing caution out of the window, Peter ran the last few rooftops and jumped down, landing in what seemed to be a small factory’s parking area. There were at least six metal curtain doors to his right, with one open to let him see more than a few wooden boxes; there was no truck or van parked in front of that door and Peter didn't have the brain to understand what that meant.
At the back of the open space were the five heartbeats, pushed to hide behind a truck that was mercilessly being shot. So no one was paying attention to him.

His eyes darted wildly through the parking lot, quickly making a mental list of where everyone was, and then ran.

He took three people out before anyone noticed him, and was already taking down the fourth one when a few of the others turned on him and started shooting his way. Peter noted that only four were on him, while the other five were retreating to the open door while still shooting at the truck. That wouldn't do.
Not losing his next target from sight, Peter ducked and jumped out of the way of the bullets; these people had big guns, but weren't as good in a fight, so Peter ran into their personal space and overwhelmed their senses, confusing them long enough to strike before they could think of doing the same.

The last one managed to scream at the other five for help, but by the time they turned their aim in his direction, Peter was already over them.

Reckless was not something Peter liked to be linked with, even if he could admit that, sometimes, he acted rather hastily. Staring at the last person falling to his knees, Peter finally stopped to think and realized that he didn’t know what was happening here; all he knew was that the two groups were shooting at each other, and somehow Dave and Elisa were there. Were they part of a gang? Most certainly. Were they trying to steal from each other? And if yes, who was stealing from who?

Peter slowly turned to the five heartbeats and felt cold sweat start to cover his back. He had jumped down to defend his friends -were they his friends?- without thinking about it and now Peter wasn’t sure he should have done it. If it turned out that both of them were criminals, what would he do?

Maybe he should take a page from Captain’s book for this one.

Because that ended so well.

As bitter as that thought made him, it would be better to make a decision soon since he could hear the engine of a motorcycle approaching with a rather familiar heartbeat. So he turned around, rushing to leave the men he had just taken down behind, and walked directly to the five heartbeats.

“Daaaveeee!”

One of the five flinched slightly at the call and just then Peter noticed that they were using ski masks. At least three of them tensed at the sight of him getting closer and one went as far as to raise their gun at him which, given the circumstances, was a fair judgment. Still, that didn’t deter Peter from walking to them.

“Dave! I know you are one of the five! I need to talk with you”

The silence lasted two seconds before Dave took off his mask, letting out a long sigh while signaling the rest of the team that Peter wasn’t there to harm them. He stared at Peter with a deep frown. “What the fuck are you doing here, kid?”

“I'm stopping a shooting, what are you doing here? And Elisa too”

Elisa gasped and took off her mask too. “Shit, how did you know?”

“I could hear you all the way from home!”

“How the hell did you hear us? I took this job just because it is far from the kitchen” Dave complained, definitely put off by Peter’s presence.

“I have good hearing, and you wanna know what I'm hearing? Custom bike engine that I have heard only once followed by the big, bad Hood so you better tell me what is happening because I need to make a decision, and fast”

Those words seemed to resonate with the group because they stared at each other, murmuring if they could hear the motorcycle, however, Peter’s attention was on Dave, feeling all the pressure of knowing how little time they had.
Dave’s eyes went wide and he stuttered for a quick moment, more out of shock than out of fear, and Peter had to give it to the man – Dave just didn’t seem to be scared of Red Hood so the shock seemed to be related to the fact of what Peter’s words implied.

“You're out of your goddamn mind! What are you gonna do? Fight the Red Hood?” Dave protested, exasperation dripping with each word.

“He's going to kill you if you try” Elisa urged, horrified.

“I'm not letting him hurt you” Peter declared with full conviction, rendering the group quiet.

Echoes of the engine resonated through the streets, carried even further by the night breeze and Red Hood must be closer than expected because the others seemed to tense at the sound. There was literally no time left.

Dave sounded absolutely exhausted when he finally talked again. “Kid, I don't-”

“He’s here” Peter cut him off, his spider-sense firing up and Peter turned to the entrance of the parking lot seconds before the motorcycle actually crossed through the open gate. His entire body tensed at the presence, that animal instinct from nights before jolting awake to scream at him that something bigger and meaner than him was there even before he saw Red Hood.

The vehicle stopped in a violent movement, and the Red Hood abandoned it without an ounce of hesitation, guns already out of his holsters and quickly moving through the air, procedurally aiming at the bodies on the floor in search of his target. The process took less than a second before he noted that, besides the group near the truck, everyone else was out cold; however, this didn’t ease the knot forming in Peter’s stomach since the man’s head snapped towards them and started walking in their direction with the same killer aura around him.

“You have a good advantage.You sound young so most will underestimate you” Natasha commented, taking a short sip of her coffee. Eyes just as sharp as always as she stared at the screen of the laptop. “You should use it more often, drag others into a false sense of security”

“I’m not sure that’ll help with my training with the captain. He knows what I can do”

Natasha smiled at him knowingly. “You would be surprised. I’ve won a lot of arguments against him by pretending to cry, even when he knows I can do it. When that doesn’t work, I just throw him down”

“Um,” Peter changed the weight of his body to the other leg. “I don’t think I can cry on command”

“You don’t have to”

This was not the best time to remember something so upsetting, but duly noted.

The modulator of Red Hood cracked considerably as he spoke, growling at Peter. “You are supposed to be resting”

False sense of security.

“Hi sir!” Peter greeted the man with the same casualness that he used to reserve for the Avengers, making Red Hood stumble a little. The man was dressed differently tonight, with a red vest with a hood, and a half-red mask; somehow the upper half of his face was shrouded in shadows and Peter briefly wondered how he was doing that. “Loving the vibe of your outfit, less ‘bike gang leader’ and more ‘I can bench press you and your family’. Is it new?”

The man didn’t answer right away, huffing displeased yet still returning his guns to their holsters. The air became significantly lighter. “Can it, kid. What are you doing here?”

“I heard that someone needed a hand so I came to check it out” Peter kept using the same tone while taking a few steps forward, stopping Red Hood from getting closer to the others and still keeping the movement innocent enough. “I was around the neighborhood, anyways”

“That’s bullshit” Red Hood grumbled, crossing his arms.

Peter crossed his arms, imitating him but kept a playful tone. “I would say that it is true since I’m here. Anyway, everyone is taking a nap and no one got hurt. You're welcome”

“Get off your high horse, kid” Red Hood scoffed and then looked at the group behind Peter. “Report”

“The whole operation fell from the start, we don’t know who but we got sold out. We still got to see the crates but we haven’t confirmed if they are the real deal or not” One of the men that Peter didn’t recognize started summarizing and the remaining tension in him melted away. Dave and Elisa were with Red Hood. “The kid appeared out of nowhere and took everyone out”

Red Hood's attention returned to Peter and Peter did his best to not squirm under the pricking sensation at the back of his neck.

“What are you waiting for? Go for the cargo. I’ll deal with all of you back at the base” Hood barked the orders, putting the small group to work, and then raised a finger to Peter. “You. Stay out of my territory”

So Red Hood was irked with him, but not enough to be a problem between them. Perfect. It was also a fair request given that Peter had been here the shortest, but there was a small problem with it.

“From what I’ve been told, this is technically not your territory” Peter tilted his head, far too delighted when the man groaned in response.

Peter should probably stop trying his luck with technicalities and a man who could probably put him on the floor just as fast as Steve and with less mercy. So he took a step back and shrugged.

“I was around so I could help. That's just how I do it”

“Next time leave the big things to me”

He couldn't be serious, right?

“A shooting is hardly a big thing,” Peter snorted. He had dealt with bigger things than that before. They were just... Less prevalent. “If I see any big shot, I’ll definitely call”

Not waiting for an answer, Peter walked away from the man. He thought that maybe it would be better to just end the night there and go home; his leg was starting to pulse again so the road back was going to take him a little longer. However, his curiosity was piqued by one of the high caliber guns.

He heard Red Hood calling out for him when he took the gun, but ignored him in favor of taking the gun in his arms and aiming with it for a brief moment. Being honest, he wasn't sure why he was doing so, Peter didn't know a lot about guns beyond how to disarm them, yet, there was something nostalgic in holding it close. The Avengers would never use one of these... But they did use firearms from time to time... Would Rhodey know anything about this model? What about Bucky and Sam? Tony would have opinions on how unnecessarily heavy it was even if he pretended to have forgotten all about weapons.

Bringing it down, he took out the magazine, putting it in his hoodie’s pocket, and made sure to break the trigger so it couldn't be fired again.

“What are you doing?”

Oh, right. Red Hood was there. Was it against his rules to grab weapons from the crime scenes? This wasn't a murder so maybe if Peter acted casually, the man would forget about it.

“This one is going in my collection”

“Do you even know how to use that?” He reached out to snatch the gun from Peter which was the sensible reaction to a teenager taking weapons from the ground, still, Peter moved away, taking some extra steps away from Red Hood when the man tried a second and third time.

“Is not for that. I'm planning to break it into pieces and see what I can use for a project I have in mind” he lied. This one was going on his hiding spot along with his delusions.

“You shouldn't be playing around with that” The man pressed, getting into Peter's space quicker than what Peter expected. Red Hood grabbed the gun with a solid grip and tried to pull, just to find out that Peter's hold was far stronger resulting in the teen being dragged forward along with the weapon as if they were glued together. He shook the object violently to try and force Peter to let go of it, yet he only managed to make Peter slightly dizzy. “What the fuck, kid. Let go of the goddamn gun”

Peter didn’t dignify that with an answer, annoyed with the man's insistence of pushing him around like a ragdoll. Instead, he planted both feet on the ground and pulled from the gun with ease, grabbing Red Hood with his free arm to give him some support and prevent the man from falling face first on the ground.

With the prize in his hands, Peter took advantage of the man's bafflement and started walking away.

“It was nice catching up but it looks like you have it all handled and don't need me anymore, so bye!”

And before he could be stopped, Peter bolted out of there.

As always, he crawled to the roofs of the nearby buildings, taking a quick look before finding the black tops of his street and making a run for it. As busy as he was going to be, Peter was sure that Red Hood would let him go this time; he had a mole to dig out and some contraband to confiscate, there was no way he was going to waste his time following Peter because he took a broken gun.

Still, he didn't trust his luck so, instead of reaching his building, he descended into the alley where the secret entrance was. He reached down for the metal door and... He didn’t open it. This- Down there would be- Did they clean here too or was it only in the basement of the building?

Oh, this was a horrible idea actually. And he didn't want anything to do with it.

Changing to his plan B -that he just made up at that moment- Peter walked out of the alley as if that was what he had intended from the start and did a quick patrol around the neighborhood. Just as it had been a few hours before, the streets were calm or calm enough to not need him, but the sky was somewhat clear and the clouds that were present were actual clouds and not just pollution drifting in the wind.

Thinking of his charred room, Peter climbed back to the roofs and sat down on the edge of a building, just staring at the sky.

Somehow, the clouds weren’t as pretty as back home.

A steady heart landed on the rooftop with such delicate care that at first Peter thought he was mistaken, yet, he knew the sound of those footsteps. He had stalked them on his first night.

“Did you ask Dave to spy on me?”

“I'm not the only one keeping tabs on you” The confession came easy. Red Hood had been waiting for the question.

Peter nodded.

Right at that moment he wasn’t sure what to think of it, yet, he was grateful for the man's honesty.

The steps came closer and they were a little louder this time, no longer trying to conceal themselves. Red Hood stood by his side and Peter wondered what he would be looking at. The clouds? The blinking lights of the city?

“Are you seriously walking around with that?” His gun, apparently.

“I thought you'd follow me home so I didn't go” Peter turned to the man and offered a smile, even if the other couldn’t see it. “Guess I was right”

“You look ridiculous with that thing. Why do you even want it?” Red Hood ignored the last comment, crossing his arms while he stared at Peter.

Peter shrugged. He probably shouldn't talk about it, the reason would lead to questions and while not all of them would be linked to Peter Parker, the grief would make the conversation too awkward; Red Hood was there simply because he wanted the thing back. The man would probably shoot him just to take it.

He hugged the gun closer to his chest. That was an upsetting thought, he didn't want to give it back. This didn't belong to any of them, yet it made him remember them. What did that say about the Avengers? And what did that say of Peter?

“I'm not going to use it” Peter said before he could stop himself. His voice sounded strained in his ears. “It reminds me of my friends”

“What kind of weird-ass friends do you have?”

Peter let out a wet laugh, finally realizing that he was crying.

He shouldn't be talking about this.

“Great ones” he laughed because that was all he could think to do at that moment. He thought of Ned and felt like wailing his eyes out. “They didn’t- They didn't even use these. I-I just- I just-”

The knot in his throat felt unbearable, choking him into silence despite the sudden urge to talk, to tell all the details of why the weapon brought to the forefront the memories of the Avengers. The way Sam had tried to teach him how to use a gun just to get chewed out by Steve. The way Rhodey would still show Tony the new weapons that got added to the suit, just for Tony to criticize the design to hell and back. The made-up competition between Steve, Clint, and Tony of who had better aim; Natasha winning even when she wasn't playing. The counted times he met Bucky outside of their first battle and his first instinct being to teach Peter how to throw a proper punch. Clint's refusal to give up on teaching Peter how to focus better and his boundless patience when Peter couldn’t do it... Until he finally did it. Those afternoons talking and throwing ideas for new projects with Tony and all his efforts to keep him away from Bruce to not bother the poor man.

And that was just the surface.

That was without counting Ned and MJ.

He lied to them. Told them he would be back and they could go together to college, that they would only forget but he would be there to bring back the memories. His last time with them and couldn't even enjoy their hug. Said he loved them and lied to their faces right after.

Aunt May-

Peter doubled over, yet firm hands grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him away from the edge and to the floor of the roof.

What if he broke the spell and couldn't go back home?

What if he went back but no one ever believed him?

The gun in his arms was bent beyond repair but Peter didn’t want it anymore. Was it so wrong that he just wanted to go home? Yet, all the things he wanted wouldn't be waiting for him, he would be alone again.

All alone and it would be his fault.

“Hey. Hey, look at me” Red Hood squeezed his shoulders and that grounded Peter a little, enough to turn to the man kneeling in front of him. “Don’t forget to breathe”

The man should have said something else because his shoulders went up once, twice, and it took Peter three times to process that Red Hood was trying to guide him into breathing again. The burning sensation in his lungs was proof enough that he wasn't breathing, still, it was hard to try to follow the motions, the air coming in shaky intervals.
His first attempt failed, breaking into a wail when he choked on his tears and snot but the hands on his shoulders squeezed gently and grounded him one more time.

Red Hood remained by his side, silently pressing his shoulders down whenever it looked like Peter was spiraling again.

It was a strange paradox, how Peter was taking as deep breaths as he could, and yet felt himself breathless, the air not being enough to fill him up despite his lung being incapable of taking more air at a time. Still, his body stopped shaking eventually, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

The man waited ten minutes extra, staring down at Peter, until it was clear that Peter wasn't going to break down again and patted Peter’s back a little too hard.

“You can keep the damn thing if you want it so badly”

Peter choked out a laugh at the comment because that's not what you tell someone having a breakdown, that's- It wasn't what he was expecting at all. Shaking his head, he offers the bent gun to the man but Red Hood slowly push it back to Peter with one hand.

“I don't want your trash, kid” Peter sniffed loudly, doing his best to chuckle at the comment.  His mask was so disgusting right now, he was going to have to clean it before going to the kitchen tomorrow. “So, care to tell why you don't go back to your friends when you clearly don't want to be here?”

“Who says I don't want to be here?” Red Hood didn’t dignify that with an answer, staring at Peter while emanating just how much he knew that was a load of crap. Peter quietly added, “I plead the fifth”

The man let out a long sigh, muttering a ‘of course you do’ so lowly that someone else wouldn't be able to pick up the words.

“If I leave you alone, are you going to try to jump again?”

Peter blinked. “I.. I didn't try to jump?”

“C'mon kid, I clearly dragged your ass away from the edge” Red Hood scoffed at him.

“I- I was falling!”

“You have a freaky strong grip and you want me to believe you were falling?”

“I was distracted” Peter said softly, his cheeks burning up.

He saw the moment that Red Hood realized that Peter wasn't lying to him, his whole demeanor changing into something subtly different. “Oh...”

“Wait, what did you think I was doing all this time?” Peter asked, scandalized.

“What else was I supposed to think? You’re the one going around acting straight-up suicidal”

“I do not-!”

“No? And you’re going to tell me that you enjoyed that little stunt from last night? Because that looked like it hurt one hell of a lot”

It did hurt one hell of a lot, yet Peter wasn't going to accept that out loud. “I stuck the landing”

“Yeah? It looked more like you barely avoided breaking your arms” Red Hood let out a quick sigh and stood up. “Stay out of our business, kid. Stop playing around and go home before you get yourself killed”

Go home? Go home? Those words woke something in Peter that he hadn't felt in a while. It was the same fire he felt that afternoon after the ferry, the infuriating knowledge that he can do so much more, and even if that afternoon had ended with him chastised, and with a good reason, Peter had proved himself again and again after that. He went to space when he was told to go home. Fought a war for his world and then some more.

Red Hood might be better, his spider-sense acknowledges that, but that didn't mean that Peter was going to lower his head for a stranger. In the end, he was still Tony’s mentee.

Sniffing one last time, Peter stood up from his place, giving one last glance to Red Hood before walking to the edge.

“Thank you for staying with me, but I think I liked you better when you were quiet”

And maybe he wasn't lying when he said that jumping hadn't been on his mind, but now that he wanted to go, jumping was the easiest and quicker way to get back home so he jumped.
It wasn't as dramatic as his jump of last night because, even if the next rooftop was a little farther away than normal, it was still between the usual jumps for him; so he jumped, landed, and continued on his way without looking back.

The heartbeat behind him moved away and Peter stopped paying attention to it once it was beyond his neighborhood. Whatever Red Hood decided to do after that wasn’t his business.

Peter descended to the streets and walked to one of the manholes, taking the cover out of the way. If his suit had been working as normal then he might not have noticed, however, as things were, the small electric buzz coming from the back of his sweater was an easy thing to spot.
He took off his sweater and palmed the fabric until he found a small black thing attached to it. It wasn't hard to guess what it was yet Peter still inspected the small device, fascinated by the shape of the tracker. Bigger than the ones Tony made, yet, the shape was so inconspicuous that Peter could have mistaken it with some trash that got glued to his sweater.

There were some areas of opportunity here, yet, the tracker was active and Peter didn't have the tools to modify it. So he threw the thing down the manhole and put back the cover.

Making sure that Red Hood hadn't left more gifts on him, Peter finally returned home.

Somehow the day had felt way too long and some of the things Red Hood told him were bothering him, yet, it was way too late to be thinking about it. It would be a problem for future Peter.

For now, he would sleep.

Notes:

Rise and shine! Is update week!
With this one we are finishing the chapters in which Peter is allowed to have an emotional breakdown, so we go onwards to the next thing!
We are also going to start the last arc I managed to write, so unless I manage to finish planning and writing the next one, this fanfic will go on hiatus in 5 or 6 chapters, which gives me 3 months. Let's hope I make it!

Chapter 13

Peter definitely needed a clock.

When he managed to wake up that morning, the sun was already behind a thick layer of smog and clouds, so it was rather hard to tell the time only with that.

Actually, if he gets paid, he could get something going after a quick dumpster dive. Still, that wasn't relevant right now.

No matter how late it was -or early, depending on the perspective- he needed to take a bath. He was still wearing his blood-soaked clothes from two nights ago, and his mask also needed a quick wash, which was incredibly inconvenient since he couldn't go outside without it. Nonetheless, there was nothing too urgent, and if the truck came that day, then it would probably do it at the same time as always, which, with luck, gave him enough time to get ready.

Not really looking forward to the ice-cold water, he made sure to empty his pockets. The magazine from last night was still in the pocket of his hoodie and he was surprised to find the piece of paper with addresses in the pockets of his sweats – He should probably look into that today, at least to make sure they weren't old locations of buried drugs or something... Rephrasing that, he should make sure the bodies were recovered because there was no way there wasn't at least one body buried in each location.

He knew it was going to be cold, but he still let out a breathy gasp when the water touched his skin. Taking a bath was quick. Trying to clean the blood off his clothes wasn't.

Leaving his clothes to dry in the bathroom and putting on his other pair of sweats, Peter started going through the clothes left behind to see if he could come up with something different to use on his head.

Having only one mask was extremely inconvenient, and, realistically, it would be a good thing to have a backup in case his mask got damaged. Back home, he could get it fixed easily, but here he lacked the tools, even the basic ones he had for the first and second versions of his suit, before meeting Tony.
Adding a sewing kit to his mental list of things to buy, Peter went through the drawers in his room in hopes of finding something breathable but not too thin.

All of that stopped when he found, hidden under layers of socks, a camera. Train of thought instantly derailed, he reached for it.

The body was made up of vibrant-blue plastic, and the proportions were strange, but the cheap lens at the front and the camera icon in one of the buttons made it clear it was a camera. Even better, it was a toy camera.

He turned it around in his hands, checking out the light orange buttons and the fake ears at the top of it. Maybe it was supposed to have a face but the stickers on the front had been torn off, so he wasn't exactly sure.
Still, it was awfully nostalgic to find one of these. He had one when he was little, it was a Christmas gift from Uncle Ben, although that one had technically been a toy camcorder that could only take one-minute-long videos before being completely full.

Nevertheless, the finding left him giddy to the core.

Excited to have something new to pass the time, Peter pressed the power button and quietly celebrated on the floor when the back screen lit up, ready to take a photo.
On the top-right side of the screen, he could see the remaining battery -two sticks out of three- and on the bottom-left was the date and the time.

Well, he had been complaining about not knowing the time, but now he knew that he was running late. Nice.

...Someone in these apartments should have left behind a wristwatch, right? Why wasn't Peter taking advantage of that?

Because that was stealing and it was only right when it came to clothes and toys.

...

Yeah, he would search for a watch later, that was, if the kids hadn't stolen all the jewelry already.

Fun afternoon activities.

Returning his focus to the camera, it was impressive that it was still turning on after the fire and seemed to be in good enough condition, so he pointed it at the door and pressed the button with a camera on it. It instantly took a digital photo; however, a small timer started, and Peter almost dropped the toy when it started buzzing and vibrating in his hands.

A piece of paper started to roll out from a small gap at the front.

“...That's interesting”

The piece of paper was subtly warm to the touch and was also completely painted in dark gray. It didn't smell like ink and, this being a toy, it didn't make sense for it to have ink inside of it.

Making a gamble, Peter pulled from the gap at the front, and a small compartment opened with a pop. Inside was the rest of the roll of paper which, from what Peter could see, was heavily stained in the same gray, yet there were still a few spots in the middle with some white in it. He took the roll and rubbed the end of it with his fingers, trying to piece together where he had seen it before.

After a minute, it hit him. It was the same as register paper.

Looking back inside the compartment it made sense, the camera should be working with heat which would make it easy and cheap to make – It was interesting and a little disappointing since he was hoping to have something a little bit more robust with its wiring. The idea sounded fun though, so he might just spend some pennies on some rolls of paper.

Giving one last look at the time, Peter went to the bathroom to check his mask and gloves. Deeming them dry enough, he put them on and reminded himself to put the piece of paper with the addresses in his pocket.

He walked out of the apartment.

And walked back in seconds later, going straight for the camera.

Without the paper it was rather pointless to bring it with him, however, that could be solved quite easily if he asked for two dollars, so he hung the camera around his neck using the leash made out of ribbon and headed out again.

Walking through the streets it was clear that things were starting to go back to what they used to be, with life and sound back to its usual overwhelming level. The guilt of not being able to help more was still there, however, a good night of sleep helped seeing things from a different perspective: the “not sleep-deprived and dying of exhaustion” perspective.

It made his mind process that night under a more reasonable light.

It also gave him something to chew on – What Red Hood had told him. Last night- It was a mystery why he had broken down like that, but that had clearly clouded his mind from what was truly important: not only had Red Hood spied on him through Dave, but he admitted that he wasn't the only one. Who else had an eye on him?
The man also tried to follow him back home, so sooner or later Peter should expect one of the heroes waiting at his doorstep which meant that he somehow needed to make that happen under his terms so they wouldn't scare the kids.

All of that boiled down to the fact that they didn't trust him and, given recent developments, he wasn't sure he could trust them.

The biggest problem is that Peter wanted to trust them and for them to trust him. So far he hadn't done anything trustworthy, even going as far as to defy Red Hood twice, but the man had been sketchy from the start and Peter wasn't sure if the others would be the same or worse. Peter couldn't have that. It might not be first-hand experience, but he had seen what trust issues could do to a group of people who knew each other; it would definitely escalate to a worse degree against someone outside of the group.

Red Hood had sounded somewhat concerned about him yesterday and he did help him during his breakdown. Even if it was just because he wanted the gun back, that was promising.

Peter should offer something back.

With that thought in mind, Peter walked into the alley and then through the back door of the soup kitchen. The familiar smell of vegetables being cooked, along with the sound of conversations greeted him at the door.
They hadn't heard him yet, so the others were busy at the front, passing plates of food from one hand to the other and handing them to the people in line.

A man noticed him and waved at him, making Carlos turn around and catch him waving back.

“You're late!”

The sudden exclamation took everyone by surprise, taking a quick look at Carlos and then turning back to find Peter. He waved back at them, noting the way Dave’s and Elisa’s eyes lingered longer on him before turning around. That was a conversation waiting to happen.

“Sorry! I'm still working on getting a clock. Oh! But I found this thing. It tells the time.” He raised the camera so they could see it, getting several raised eyebrows at the thing.

“What’s that? A camera?” Nath asked, taking a step to check the thing out but getting stopped by Belinda, who pulled him back in line by his shoulder.

“Yep, did the truck already pass?”

“The truck is late too,” Boss said from the end of the line, being the one in charge of serving the little they had of minced meat left. “By the way, I heard that you went out yesterday. I thought I told you to go home”

Peter tilted his head. “Yeah? Who told you?”

“I did,” Elisa lied smoothly, eyes to the front while she passed a plate to Greg.

So not her.

Dave kept his hands busy with the metal spoon while he passed another plate. “Move it kid. Don't let Hector do all the job.”

Not him either then.

“Ok”

Shrugging it off, Peter took the broom he always used and walked to the front of the building, greeting Hector. There were eyes glued to his back, yet that could wait a little longer.

The truck took another hour to pass by, and, despite Boss’s attempt to help him out, the man moved aside when he saw Peter taking four boxes in his arms like they were filled with air. Dave might have told him not to show off, but that had been with the others – Boss was free game.

“Can you really lift a car?”

Peter perked up at the question. He had said that before, but he clearly remembered telling the others, not to his boss. Still, that wasn't that strange. People talk, even more so when something is unusual, and Peter checked that box pretty much everywhere.

And then he remembered that Dave had explicitly told Boss that bit of information the other day. It might be a good idea to ask Dave not to do that, if possible.

So he nodded, a little more concerned with unloading the contents of the boxes into their respective plastic bins. If he didn't do it in the right order, Belinda was going to try to skin him again.

“Have you done it before?”

“Something like that,” he answered absentmindedly. The potatoes go beside the carrots, the meat on the bins at the back. Except for the chicken. “I wasn't sure I could the first time I did it, but I had a hunch.”

“A little risky if you had been wrong, no?”

The chicken goes in the yellow bin. All greens go on the black ones. “I guess, but I didn't have a lot of time to think about it, so I just did it.”

“Not a lot of time? What happened?” Weird, wasn't Boss helping the others? Oh, wait, no, apples have their own bin. Where was the white bin?

“Someone's brakes failed. They were going to crash into a bus, so I stepped in”

The man remained quiet for a long moment, staring at Peter while he tried to find the white bin. “Have you ever tried to lift a bus?”

“A bus?” Not really, but it was a good question. Could Peter lift a bus? He had definitely lifted heavier things, right? So maybe a bus wouldn't be too crazy. Rather than just lifting it, the real question would be if he could maintain it over his head for more than two seconds... He could try it sometime.
Peter didn't say any of this; instead, he turned to his boss and tilted his head. “I thought you were helping the others with the food?”

“I was trying to keep you company, you brat” Boss complained without real bite behind his words, his amused smirk ever present. “You were never interviewed and didn’t get proper training. I want to make sure you aren't going to fuck it up and give everyone food poisoning”

“That's fair. How am I doing so far?”

Boss hummed, considering his words. “You did arrive late...”

The man offered a wolfish smile that didn't inspire any confidence in Peter so he turned around and kept searching for the white bin.

One p.m. rolled around quite fast and it became two p.m. even faster while they swept the floors, did the dishes, and moved the tables and the chairs to the walls. At all times Peter could feel eyes over him, yet, whenever he turned around he could clearly see Dave and Elisa looking away – It was honestly becoming irritating.

Peter took a deep breath while he piled up the chairs.

“Dave, can I ask a question?” He threw the words to the air, not really looking at the man, expecting the casualness to make things easier between them.

“Shoot”

Peter prepared to talk but stumbled over his words. “Wait, before I ask my question,” He turned to look at Dave. The man had all his attention on him, yet he was doing his best to look nonchalant despite how hard he was grabbing the broom in his hands. “Do they know?”

Dave raised an eyebrow and he truly looked confused. “Know what?”

“Oh, you know, your...” Peter trailed off, trying to come up with a way to ask without forcing the secret out in case no one else knew Dave worked with Red Hood, but also a way to ask without making him sound like some kind of pervert because that would be equally mortifying. The group waited patiently for Peter while he grew increasingly embarrassed of how hard it was to think of another option besides ‘nighttime hobby’. “Your part-time job?”

Boss let out a loud but short laugh.

“Did it really take you that long to think of that?” Elisa lifted an eyebrow but was also snickering.

“You should be grateful I didn't go with my first three options” Peter retorted, all red under his mask. “I've never had to ask someone”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Yes, they know kid. About both of them”

“What about him?” Peter pointed to their boss just to be sure, although, he had a hunch.

“Yes, we all know”

“Ok, Ok... Did Red Hood ask you to keep an eye on me?”

There was a quick movement to his left where Boss was. Something subtle that Peter was sure he wasn't going to catch in time to see exactly what it was, so he kept his attention on Dave.

All tension bled out of Dave, and he chuckled to himself. “Seriously, that's your question? You did steal a gun yesterday.”

The lack of surprise from the others was telling.

“I'm not talking about yesterday. I'm talking about before that.”

“Before that? Don't think so highly of yourself, kid. He didn't even know you existed two days ago”

And there it was, the fluttering of his heart.

Peter let out a sigh. He didn't even need to pay attention to the heartbeat to know that Dave was lying, and really, he had been expecting it; they met a week ago, Dave didn't owe him any honesty. Peter also didn't strictly need this information. The secret was out, Dave worked with Red Hood, and the hero asked him to watch him, probably to make sure Peter wasn't pretending to be helpful just to turn on him and all the other Gotham heroes at a moment's notice.

It was smart.

It was what Peter should have done in the past.

Yet, that small detail felt important.

He wasn't sure in what way. It was such a small thing that Peter should just shrug it off and deal with the bitter taste of disappointment by himself. But it chewed at the back of his mind the same way a rat chewed on its leg to free itself from a trap: desperate and rabid.

It reminded him of the way Tony and Steve stared at each other from time to time, after loud arguments that no one knew who had won. Cold, wild eyes and easy flinches at the smallest movement. Always ready for the fight.

But they had their reasons, extremely valid one.

Peter didn't, and it wasn't worth it to throw away all his efforts to build a relationship with the group. At least not yet.

“I'm going to be honest with you. Hearts are the biggest telltales of the whole world and also, Red Hood already told me he asked you to watch me, but he implied that it has been going on for a bit. I'm not angry or something, I just-” Peter scratched the back of his head, not sure how to end that sentence. “Honestly, I don't even know why I asked, but I'm telling you right now. I don't care you lied about it because Red Hood is crazy scary, so I would've done it too, and also because trusting the people you think are your friends is, like, the most normal thing to do.”

“At this point, you're just being stupid.” Boss clicked his tongue, and while Peter agreed to some degree, he resented the tone.

“I know, and the kick to the side I’m going to get when I fall is going to hurt,” Peter shrugged. “But it’s even more stupid to burn all your bridges in a day.”

“We're being paid to spy on you,” Nath remarked in disbelief.

“I know and also, thanks for sharing that with the class. Lift your hand if you are being paid to keep an eye on me?” Peter joked but was immediately surprised to see everyone present lifting one arm, even his boss. “Oh, that's just sad”

“What were you expecting? It would be strange if he didn't ask all of us” Elisa shrugged.

“I'm not talking about that, I expected that. What I didn't expect was for all of you to actually lift your hand”

Greg scoffed at that. “Normally I wouldn't but I think the cat is out of the bag already. Also, you just discovered that all your “friends” are being paid to watch you”

“And you just accepted it” Boss hissed displeased. “Raise your standards, squirt.”

“Oh, believe me, I'm going to lose so much sleep thinking about the implications.” Those quotation marks Greg did with his fingers were going to sting for a while. “By the way, was the offer to handle my paperwork his idea?”

“He wants to ensure you'll keep returning to this place so it can be easier to stalk you. How I manage that is up to me” Boss shrugged.

That sounded reasonable, so Peter nodded and then tilted his head, allowing himself to think a little longer about the implications of that.

“Wait. So what's your idea? Economic stability or economic dependency? Because I might have a problem with you depending on what you say”

“Fuck you, I'd give you a good place to stay if I wasn't sure you'll reject it. I'm not a monster”

“Says only him” added Hector, smug when Boss glared at him.

“Let's be honest, you would totally go for economic dependency if Dave wasn't here to stop you” Belinda commented, taking a seat over the table she had been cleaning before the conversation started.

“Fuck all of you”

“I don't know, Boss, it looks like the council has voted against you” Peter teased.

“The council can go fuck themselves with a stick. I'm banning pizza Fridays”

Peter paused. “We have pizza Fridays?”

“Well, not anymore it seems”

“Isn't that illegal?”

“It isn't because he isn't cutting our pay”

“At this point, I don't think it matters if it’s legal or not”

“That's right, we are encouraging child labor anyway”

“I'm not that young!”

“No one is banning pizza Fridays,” Dave said out loud with such a commanding tone that it put an end to the increasingly chaotic conversation. Boss looked ready to challenge him, yet, Dave ignored him altogether in favor of turning to Peter. “It was the night you met that girl”

“I- What?”

“You asked when he told me to keep an eye on you” Dave explained while rolling his eyes, as if he wasn't the one coming back to a topic they left behind long ago. “You stick out like a sore thumb so he already knew about you coming to the kitchen but that night he found me on my way home and told me to start reporting to him”

That was... A whole lot more information than what Peter was expecting.

Did Red Hood think he was taunting him when he acknowledged his presence that night?... No, it was probably the fact that Peter had been messing around inside his territory that put him on a blacklist. It would explain why he shot at him the first time they talked.

So he really had an eye on him almost from the start.

Peter nodded, still thinking. “Ok”

“Ok? That's it?” Dave asked back indignant for some reason. Maybe he had expected Peter to be outraged by the new information.

While he wasn't crazy about it, Peter was trying to not lose his head with this whole ordeal despite having the vague knowledge that all he needed was a small push to the right button and he would break down again.

Still, as small as it was, there was a silver lining.

“You might think it’s nothing, but to me, that means that the chocolate was genuine”

Dave blinked. And then looked away with an expression Peter wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean: It didn't look like he was angry that Peter mentioned it, yet, he wasn't smiling or didn't seem flustered by being revealed in front of the others. Actually, he looked ready to throw up.
It made Peter very aware of the way the man had looked at him back at the hospital. Peter was being too much again. He needed to back the fuck off right now.

“Alright!” Peter clapped loudly, getting all the attention on him and away from Dave. “Since we are sharing things, I have a list of addresses that I’m going to start investigating today, so I’ll be walking outside of the neighborhood. Feel free to add that to your school reports”

Instant results.

“Wait! What do you mean walking outside-?”

“Kid, have you really never walked into the city?”

“You are getting so lost, I’m calling it”

“How long before he gets mugged for real?”

“To get mugged, you would need money”

“That’s a low punch, even for you. The kid doesn’t even have a house”

“He got a dumpster. That’s good enough”

“Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, guys” Peter deflated at their ‘encouraging’ words, but at least they were focused on something else.

Dave remained in silence and quietly made his way to the back of the building, where the back entrance was. Seeing him walking outside without uttering a word was disheartening, even more so when Peter wasn’t sure what he had said that made the man upset, yet, Peter did his best to ignore the pang of dejection. This was not the reason for his next breakdown – He wasn’t going to throw a tantrum just because the man didn’t like him anymore.

While the others continued talking to each other, making bets on how fast Peter was going to last before returning home with one less hoodie under his name, Boss walked closer.

“So, where the hell did you get a list of addresses?”

“That’s a secret” Peter answered, his eyes still glued to the back door.

“...Don’t take it personal, squirt. It doesn’t have to do with you,” Boss tried to comfort him and it would have worked if it wasn’t for the fact that his heartbeat didn’t stay even with those words.

“You do remember that I know when you are lying, right?”

A long sigh. “Fuck, kid. Is hard to deal with you”

Peter’s first impulse was to say that he knew, but that sounded way too miserable, so his second option was to apologize, yet that was too depressing and he also wasn’t sorry at all. He could go after Dave and maybe try to speak with him, be an adult, and use his words instead of standing around and asking himself what he did wrong, but that would require Dave to want to do the same and Peter wasn’t confident that the man would want that.

Instead, he turned to Boss, who looked increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze and then he remembered their talk at the hospital and the way he panicked when Peter teased him about talking about his feelings.

“You should bribe me for my silence”

“What?” Boss blinked and turned to Peter, mouth agape at the suggestion.

Peter was baffled too. Those weren’t the words he was expecting to come out of him, but he already said them so he might as well see where he was going with this.

“Give me five dollars and I won’t talk about my feelings for the rest of the day”

“Are you- Are you trying to blackmail me? With feelings?”

Peter tilted his head. “Is it working?”

“No!”

“Hm, give me ten and I’ll talk about my feelings with someone else”

“Kid, what-?”

“I’ll give you fifteen if you cry on them!” Carlos butted into the conversation, taking both Boss and Peter by surprise.

The rest of the group had their eyes on them, so it looked like they finished betting on Peter’s bad luck.

“Make it twenty if you make them feel like it was their fault” Chimed in Belinda.

“You two are fucked up” Hector shook his head and then turned to Peter. “But I’ll give you five extra if you do that creepy thing you are always doing”

“What creepy thing?”

Almost as if they had practiced it, Hector, Greg, Elisa, and Nath tilted their heads to the side, expressions completely blank and eyes unfocused. They did look creepy.

Peter let out a long sigh.

“My mask is not creepy, it’s friendly. Friendly”

“Repeat that all you want, but you’re an eerie motherfucker” Greg rebutted with a matter-of-factly tone.

“I’m your friendly neighbor Spider-man. I’m friendly and I’m a spider, what’s not clicking?”

“The fact that you sometimes move like a walking nightmare?” offered Elisa.

“I walk normally!”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, squirt, but you do act weird sometimes and I’ve known you for two days” Boss conceded and Peter didn’t have to look at him to see his stupid smirk.

“You all are just trying to gang up on me” Peter rubbed his eyes over the mask, wishing that he could just take it off so he could actually rub at them. “You are literally the first ones to ever tell me this”

“That’s because you needed real friends” Carlos shrugged.

“You don’t have the right to say that. You are being paid to talk to me!” Peter groaned, trying to put an end to the argument.

“Yeah, but telling you the truth is on the house” Added Hector.

This had been going on for far too long and Peter wasn’t even sure why he was indulging them with the opportunity to insult him. As far as he was concerned, they needed to get their eyes checked, because no one back home ever mentioned him being frightening, and at least Pepper would have told him so with how important PR was for her job.

“You know what? I don’t care. All of you are wrong because I was a hit with the kids back home. Can someone lend me two dollars?”

Nath cackled at the request, shaking his head. “You're asking for money from the wrong people, kid”

That didn't stop the group from taking out their wallets and checking if anyone had spare change, however, they couldn't even reach a dollar with all their coins together.

“What the fuck are you buying that you are already broke? I'm enrolling you in classes on how to budget” Boss grunted, taking out his wallet and handing a five-dollar bill to Peter. “I'm discounting this from your pay”

“We have families and bills” Carlos lamented while he put his wallet away. “We all can't have a Bat as a sugar da-”

A lighter hit him on the nose before he could end that comment. Despite the serious glare Boss was giving him, the air remained light while the rest of the group teased Carlos for getting his ass kicked by their boss.
Carlos complained about the pain, yet, he laughed along with the team while all of them threw knowing glances to Boss.

Peter was a little bit lost but still gave his best act when Elisa pulled him closer so she could pretend to whisper something while both of them glanced at Boss, snickering and whispering nonsense back to her to the utter indignation of Boss.

In the end, it took another hour for Peter to finally leave the kitchen.

Despite everything, he left with his chest feeling warm.

Notes:

I had so much fun writing this one and while the whole thing might be a mess, I refuse to change anything about it
I know we are still discussing things about the last arc but bite me, I wanted Peter to have more interactions with the gang since they are going to disappear for a bit. Next chapter, Peter is going to the library, I swear

Also, everyone clap! I just realized that you NEED to manually set the date the chapter gets published. My fanfic is no longer stuck on January 1 of this year.

Chapter 14

Hunting down a store that sold the paper he wanted for the camera was more complicated than he expected starting from the fact all the stationary stores close to his building were extremely small and had only the essentials, and the bigger stores had the guard following him at all times pressuring him into rushing out before they tried to do it by force.
After five different stores and no luck, Peter walked inside the closest store and found himself inside the laundromat. The place was as small as he remembered, with both walls covered with washing machines and dryers; now that he was going to get paid he could start bringing his clothes and stop being a walking health hazard, but that would need to wait for another week probably.

With no real hopes, he crossed the store and walked directly to the register asking if he could buy one of their paper rolls. It took a little explaining but once Peter showed the camera and the way it worked, the woman behind the register seemed interested in seeing it work so she gave him a roll in exchange for a few photos of herself.

The roll was too thick but the width was just perfect so Peter took his time to divide a good chunck of the roll into a smaller one that could fit on the camera and, once he was ready, he asked the woman to smile. Despite her best efforts to appear indifferent, she smiled delightedly when she saw the piece of paper come out of the camera with her face on it and even walked from behind the register to pose again. In the end, her husband opened one door on the back of the desk, revealing that the second floor of the building was their house; the man didn't have time to ask what was happening since the woman pulled him and forced him to pose with her for a new photo.

They posed together for ten more photos before the woman was happy to let Peter go with the roll of paper, asking him to come back later so she could also get a photo with her niece.

Arranging the meeting two days from today, Peter waved goodbye to the woman and walked out of the store. His plan had been to get the paper and then go to the library to start investigating the addresses, yet, he didn't want to carry the roll with him since it was heavy and didn't fit right in the pocket of his hoodie. The camera was also running out of battery and he would need to search for the cable which, with a lot of luck, would be in the same drawer he found the camera.

So, he headed back to his building, making a few detours here and there to help along the way.

The small heartbeats scattered throughout the five buildings were nowhere to be found when he came back yet that didn’t worry him. No kid had gone to the soup kitchen that day, however, it wasn't the only place someone could get food around here so Peter made a mental note to check again tonight – If the heartbeats were still gone by that time, then he would start asking around.

Might be a good idea to start introducing himself to the kids sleeping in the buildings, mostly so he could find them in case they get lost or so they know who to ask for help if anything happens. Also, it might be a good idea to keep searching for books for his little project, maybe focus on kid books so his guests could have something to read before bed...

Would they know how to read?

Shelving the question for later, Peter went up the stairs and entered “his” house, making a mental note to invest in a proper lock for his door since the current one was busted... Or, he could simply put something together and save some money that way. Jamming the door and getting back inside only through the windows was also a readily available option that he should probably start using – It didn't really matter since he was going to be moving to the basement at some point next week, so he could ignore it for now.

The roll of paper went straight to the bag under his bed before he tackled the task of searching for the charger of the camera, which, as he should've predicted, was not in the same drawer.

So he turned the room upside-down searching for the charger while also taking a quick look at the clothes and putting a few things in his bag that were a little too big for him, but that he could still use or easily modify. It took him lifting the bed to finally find a cable that looked like it could be the one for the camera, which was awful because Peter wasn’t sure if it would still work after the fire and the water. Testing it on any of the outlets of the building was out of the question because, on one hand, Peter wasn't sure if they were damaged and he wasn't going to risk it, and on the other, he didn't know if there was still electricity running.

Deciding that it was better to test it anywhere else, Peter pocketed the cable and put the room back as it was before.

It was kind of ironic that this was the most organized his room had been since forever, despite the copious amounts of soot, and that it, technically, wasn't his room to begin with. May would be happy either way.

Ready to go, Peter walked to the door of the apartment and paused. He hesitated but took out the piece of paper and stared at it for a long second. The writing was still faded and the paper was yellowed, however, there was a new brown stain in one of the corners that had been a little too close to obscuring one of the addresses.
Peter looked around the apartment and walked to the small table where it used to be the kitchen, leaving the piece of paper on the dirty surface. He turned on the camera and took a few photos of the paper, making sure that the writing was fully legible both on the digital and the printed version.

With that finally done, Peter got out of the apartment, taking a small detour to the top floor so he could hide the piece of paper along with the notebooks, and then finally left the building.

Visiting the library this time around was more exciting since he wasn’t on a time crunch, and he could actually take his time investigating what he needed. The library was also way out of his comfort zone, getting closer to the good side of the city without having to take the metro to go through the bridges that connected to the other city's areas; it made him a little bit nervous since he technically didn't have someone to keep an eye on his neighborhood but at least the gang knew he wasn't going to be around.

It was also just for a day, so it shouldn't be a big problem.

The woman at the desk seemed to recognize him since her eyes went wide and she waved at him the moment he went through the door. She genuinely seemed happy to see him and, taking into account how concerned she had been the last time she saw him, it was kind of sweet to see her so excited.

Just like last time, Peter walked to the computers and took the first one he found empty, feeling ten times more comfortable now that no one was double-checking him due to his costume – Guess a mask was more comfortable to everyone else than a kid in full costume and a hoodie.

To give himself some sort of timer, he connected the camera to an outlet below the computer and promised to give himself a break once the thing was fully charged. Not like it was going to take him that long.

Peter took out the photos he had taken from the piece of paper and searched the first address.

And hit his first roadblock.

There was a vague mention of a bakery being on that address, yet, that was from a photo of an old newspaper from thirty years ago. Currently? There was no street with that name and number combination in all of Gotham.

At least that was a clue. Whoever wrote these did so at least thirty years ago so Peter wasn’t going to find a corpse... Maybe a skeleton.

Since there wasn’t more information, Peter tried his luck with the second address and hit the same dead end. There used to be a shoemaker's store, yet, that was long gone.

Slowly realizing the pattern, Peter tried looking up the rest of the addresses, finding only a vague mention of two of them and getting no results from the other two. So that was nice.
Peter stared at the screen of the computer for a while, processing the little information he had. He knew that at least four of the addresses existed thirty years ago due to some newspaper photographs and all of them seemed to be of small local stores: A bakery, a shoemaker, a butcher, and a corner shop.

By theme, they didn't really match each other. If the shoemaker also had a side hustle related to food then it would be something, but as things were, that didn't seem like a possibility.

Cities change with time, but for all of these addresses to be gone? Something must have happened, maybe an earthquake or some other natural disaster – Something big enough that would force the city to rebuild itself from the ground up.
Following this train of thought, Peter searched for any natural disaster in the last thirty years, at least to satiate his curiosity.

He then proceeded to fall into a rabbit hole.

Yes, natural disasters did happen in Gotham like in every other place, yet, man-made disasters were even more prevalent and slowly molded the city into what it was today. However, and more interestingly, the city seemed to have an ongoing history of redesigning public roads to, and he quoted, ‘balance the needs of the citizens promoting the use of sustainable and safe alternatives for movement, besides having a human-driven planning of the urban ecosystem’.

Whatever the second part meant was a mystery to Peter.

The point here was that this project had been going on for a while, and every single attempt to make it work had failed for one reason or another. Recently, it was because of confrontations between the city's heroes and their usual foes, but this project had been going even before Batman and it looked like its biggest adversary was and had always been corruption.
It had been so long that the original owner wasn't even part of the government anymore, so the project had been passed around to several others, who interpreted the mission so differently that all plans had been completely overhauled at least four times. All of that while never stopping the construction or destruction of the streets.

Currently, the project was in the hands of a third party, a rich guy that had the capital to actually make it run for more than two years without being stopped by unforeseen developments – A.k.a. the greedy hands of public figures or the aftermath of Batman’s confrontation...

It surely counted as a conflict of interest for a rich man to have control over a government project, but guess Gotham didn't care.

Peter looked away from the five essays and the other eight tabs he had open and rubbed his eyes. None of this was giving him any further information regarding the addresses but he was quite enjoying going down this particular rabbit hole. It had everything from several callouts regarding the corruption surrounding it, to essays about how the perpetual changes were transforming the city into a maze and what that did to the human mind.

At this point, the project had legs of its own and could probably vote if it was a person.

There were not one but two celebrity love affairs that somehow involved the project. Someone spread in old forums this crazy conspiracy theory about how the project was started by a secret organization. In 1999, the project had to be temporarily stopped because someone had sex next to the only computer that had the files and broke it. Last year it had to be stopped because they accidentally found someone's secret lair. The current owner was rumored to sleep with the urban planner they hired. Fifteen years ago there was this theory that they were trying to make a pentagram with the streets.

This project was the gift that kept on giving.

MJ would have loved it.

As much as he loved it, knowing more about it wasn’t really helping with his plans, and, looking at the clock in the bottom right corner of the computer, he had spent three hours without true progress. Still, he wanted to read more about this later, so he took five minutes to create an email... Actually, he took five minutes searching for what email services existed and then created an email so he could send to himself the links he had open.

With that done, he disconnected the camera (pocketing the cable in the process) and walked to the front desk of the library. The woman smiled warmly at him when she noticed him getting closer, leaving to the side a small book she was reading.

“Hi, do you have maps of Gotham?”

“Maps? We should have a few. Do you need something specific?” she stood up from the desk, already walking to the back of the library.

“I want to check the streets from thirty years ago”

The woman didn't stop, however, she did turn to look at Peter with an amused smile. “That's quite specific. We do have some old road maps, but I'm not sure if we have from that far back”

Without missing a skip, the woman turned into one of the short hallways and led Peter to the very back, to a rather old showcase with several pamphlets of diverse heights. Gently she opened the glass door and started looking through the papers, handing some of them to Peter in the order she was finding them.

“These are the maps we have of Gotham, at least the oldest we have here. Do they work for you?”

Peter went through the maps, reading the information on the back and the front, however, the oldest they had was from twenty-one years ago. By that time, the project to redesign the streets had already been overhauled once and had changed hands at least three times; that just made these maps useless for him so he shook his head and returned the maps to the librarian.

“I'm sorry, but these aren't old enough for what I'm looking”

The woman made a face, thinking for a short moment, and then nodded to herself. “You know? They might have what you need in the main library. Is it urgent?”

Peter shook his head and then hesitated. “it isn't but I would like to check it out as soon as possible”

“In that case, I can always open a request with the main library so they send me what they have, but that can take up to a week, depending on how many requests they have. If you really want it, they close at nine.”

He could totally wait that week, it wasn’t like he had anything else waiting for him, and this information might have been urgent at some point, but it wasn’t anymore. There was also the topic of money, which he didn’t have enough of to be moving around; so far his plan was to get the information and use the metro to move as close as he could to the address and use the rest of the five-dollar bill to pay the trip back home. To add a trip to another library... It just didn't add up.

However...

It couldn't replace working in the lab, not in a hundred years, but, coming to the library scratched that itch and desire to research. It was a rather watered-down sensation, but it was something he wanted more of.

Five dollars was nothing compared to it.

“Where is the main library?”

The woman's smile widened. She asked Peter to follow her back to the desk while asking a few questions, like if he needed a sketch of the streets surrounding the library or if just knowing the streets was enough for him. In the end, Peter also asked her which subway lines would bring him closer to the library and when the last train would run so he wouldn't end up stranded on the other side of the city. The woman, Emily, gladly shared the information with him, even going as far as opening a map of the subway lines on her computer so she could explain to him where to change lines a little bit better.
It was... Strange but nice to find someone so eager to help a stranger. It certainly wasn't the usual around his neighborhood, or maybe he was the strange but nice guy back home...

That sounded a little narcissistic.

With a paper in hand with all the instructions, Peter thanked Emily and walked out of the library, determined to find the closest station. However, half a street away, a thought crossed his mind so he walked back and took a photo of the library. If he was going to kiss goodbye to all of his money the same day he got it, he might as well make it count.

So, channeling his inner tourist, he walked to the metro station while taking photos of anything that seemed remotely interesting, especially of the view of the city while the metro went over the bridge.

By the time he reached the main library, he had around a dozen printed photos sitting inside his pockets along with the cable, and he was taking a few more of the big glass doors that showcased the huge stone arches inside the building, along with a chandelier just as big.
To tell the truth, he hadn't stepped inside the library yet, and the grandeur of the place was already blowing him away. Elegance had always come with modernity and technology in his head, it was Tony's brand of luxury – As long as he had known him, Tony had always aimed to keep himself surrounded by the latest models of everything. Smooth curves and bright lights, those were synonymous with the man.

This place was not like that.

It was old and made up of stone from the base to the top, hand-carved into the shapes of crosses and unnerving gargoyles that looked down on him. It raised its ceiling like it wanted to stab the sky and make it bleed, black and gray in a different way from his own home. The interior had been modified, of course. Everything inside looked new in warm browns and cozy yellow lights; it was full of furniture built specifically to fit between the crevices of the stone and tame its cold, uncaring nature.
Maybe you could forget about it while being inside, but the front of the building told no lies: it remained dark and ready to consume anyone inside.

In a weird way, it really reminded him of Tony's brand.

Cold metals, smooth stones.

He took one final photo of the front facade and went inside, instantly taking a picture of the chandelier. The light would burn his photo, but he still wanted to preserve in any way the memory of the teardrop-shaped crystals that hung above.

The inside of the library was just as impressive as the outside, full of rows of shelves on the upper levels and a big area with chairs and tables to work on the first floor, all of them- Well, not exactly full, but it would be a little hard to find a place to sit down if Peter wanted to.
The computers should be in a different place because Peter couldn't see them and there was no way this place didn't have at least one for public use. Hell, they probably had a 3D printer in this place and the main question was how much material they’d let him use before banning him for life.

Right in the middle of the first floor, below the chandelier, was the front desk: a circle made of warm wood with plant patterns carved into the sides. It was a huge thing for the sole person sitting behind the wood, their red hair barely poking over the edge of the table.

They looked up to a man sitting on the desk, irritation clear in their face – Ah, they looked feminine. Were they a woman? The desk obscured them too much to be sure.

Peter waited a moment, the camera lifted over his eyes to cover the fact that he was keeping a close eye over both of them.

The man sitting over the desk leaned closer to the other, lively talking with his hands while he insistently tried to hand over something to the person behind the desk. Dark hair, slightly longer on the back. Blue eyes. Dressed in a suit and jacket left forgotten over the desk, almost falling from the edge.
The other- No, the woman seemed irritated by the insistence, her forehead wrinkled with a deep frown. Red hair, styled on a messy bob. Glasses. Before Peter could move forward, he saw the growing smirk on her face. In a nonchalant move, she lifted a bottle and sprayed the man right in the face, startling him down from the desk. She didn't laugh out loud given the place, but he could hear the whispered taunt and the curse that answered back.

They were friends, then.

Relaxing, Peter put down the camera and came closer to the desk.

The man noticed him first and- He looked way younger than Peter initially expected. Maybe they were siblings? So, the young man- No, he was definitely younger than that. The teen noticed him first, lifting his gaze and having to take a double look before forcing his body to relax. Curious about the reaction, the woman also turned to Peter, and her body tensed despite keeping her smile firmly in place.

Ok, so the mask was still a little too much on the nice part of town. Duly noted.

“Hi! Sorry to interrupt but do you have maps of Gotham? I'm searching for road maps from thirty years ago.” Keep it nice, keep it friendly. No need for anyone calling the cops on him again.

“That's quite specific,” the woman said as if she wasn't reaching for the pepper spray on the side of her wheelchair, a movement so casual that most wouldn't see it.

Peter was expecting a gun, so the little thing seemed almost laughable. Nothing like his new neighborhood conditioning him with guns to make this moment enjoyable.

“I'm doing a small treasure hunt! But I'm having some problems solving the clues I have.”

“I didn't know people still did those.” The teen jumped back over the table, getting another irritated glare from the woman. “Is there a prize?”

“Nop, just chasing the gold at the end of the rainbow.”

The teen hummed. “I like challenges. Can I join?”

“Uhm”

“Stop trying to insert yourself in other people's lives,” the woman sprayed him once more, before turning to Peter. “We should have something you can use. Please follow me.”

Getting out of the circular desk, the woman moved through the first floor and into the right, where Peter could see an elevator. He followed suit, looking around the place and cataloging everything he could in his mind in case he needed to come back down again. Reaching the elevator, both got on board and the doors were about to close when the teen stopped the door and jumped inside.

“And what do you think you are doing?”

“Ok, hear me out,” he started talking, turning to Peter instead of answering the woman. “I know I don't look like it, but- What is that?”

Well, that didn't make a lot of sense. “What?”

“Is that a camera?” The teen pointed to Peter's hands, right where the half-melted and blue monstrosity he called a toy was.

The teen must have been into photography or something because he stared at Peter's camera like it had insulted him and his whole family. Not even thinking about it, Peter angled the toy to his face and took a photo, making the teen flinch away when the camera started vibrating while printing the photo.

“Yeah, it is,” Peter said smugly while tearing off the photo and pushing the paper into the teen's hand.

The doors opened with a ding, and the woman got down first, teasingly talking to the teen. “He got your good side.”

“Shut up,” he answered back, getting down from the elevator with a small frown, eyes glued to the piece of paper.

Peter chuckled to himself, following the woman through the second floor of the library while looking around, fully aware that the teen was following close behind, although it seemed like he had given up on talking with Peter.
They came to a stop in front of a door, and the librarian took out a badge from one of the small bags that hung on the sides of her chair, drawing it closer to the metal panel attached to the left side of the door. It beeped lightly, and the door started opening by itself.

“Give me a moment, I’ll go get what we have.”

The door closed behind the woman, and Peter found himself confused as to why she asked him to come all the way to the door if she was going to leave him outside. Still, if he was going to have to wait there, he might as well try to make himself comfortable.

“It might be only me, but I don’t think the photo looks that bad.”

The teen looked up at Peter, somehow taken aback that Peter was talking to him. Did he forget he was the one following Peter around? Well, the teen was now trapped by social rules, and to make sure that the guy couldn't pretend that Peter wasn't talking to him, he walked closer to the teen.

“I can take something better with a burner phone,” The other answered back after a moment, finally pocketing the piece of paper.

“Confident, aren’t we?” Peter tried to tease him, but the teen showed a smile full of teeth at him. So he was that confident, he must have gotten a prize at some point. “I know they are trash, but I’m not taking them because they are good.”

“For the fun, then?”

“Actually, yes! I’m new here in Gotham, and in New York we might complain about tourists, but we can be just as annoying. I’m Spider-Man” He offered a hand.

The teen snorted. “That can’t be your actual name”

“Haven’t you heard of people called Luke and Leila? My dad was just a little too into spiders”

The other chuckled and shook his head, however, he finally reached out to shake hands with Peter. “Tim... So, Spider-man, what are you doing here?”

Peter tilted his head, a little confused by the question. “I’m searching for a map?”

“No, I mean, Gotham? Not exactly known as a great place to sightsee”

Ah, yeah, that made more sense. “I just moved here”

“I didn't know people willingly moved to Gotham” The tone was playful, however, there was something sharp underneath it that took Peter by surprise.

He waited for the backhanded comment that generally followed that kind of tone, however, Tim simply let go of his hand and put it in the pocket of his pants, smiling a little awkwardly now that Peter didn’t answer right away.

Thinking that he might have heard wrong, Peter shook his head lightly.

He discovered that all his friends were spying on him and now he was expecting everyone to be on the same wagon. Between this and Beck, he was going to develop trust issues for the rest of his life, maybe grow old and crazy while he screamed from his roof that the government was out to get him.

“A friend told me I would fit just right here, so I had to come check it out” Peter remained cheerful even when in his mind that ‘Had To’ was written in capitals and bold letters.

Tim blinked and raised an eyebrow, looking extremely remorseful. “Are you sure he was being serious? I can’t believe someone would recommend Gotham to anyone”

Him and Peter, honestly. This place was rightfully a layer in hell all on its own if anything he had heard was true, which it probably was. Peter just needed an extra week and he might see the plant lady. Might go on another fun afternoon adventure just to see if he could ask her for a selfie together.

Fun weekend plans.

“He has different taste” Peter shrugged it off.

“Sounds like he's the one that would be a good fit then”

Peter snorted without being able to stop himself.

Stephen? In Gotham? It wasn’t a question of whether he would be able to survive the city, but if the city would be able to survive the Supreme Sorcerer's sure-to-be sour mood once he noticed he was trapped in a different dimension. All Peter could think of was the man complaining while he sent half the city to that mirror dimension.

“Is that a no or a yes?” Tim asked, amused by the reaction.

“Is a ‘You're lucky he's not here’ kind of answer.” Peter shook his head, chuckling to himself. The worst thing about this is that he could technically explain why this was so funny, but that could lead to more personal questions, and that wasn't going to fly. So he changed the subject. “Hey, do you think I can get actual good photos with this thing?”

Pushing the camera into his hands, Tim took the change in the conversation in stride, nodding to himself while he fought the need to grimace at the toy. With a determined look in his eyes, he inspected the thing thoroughly before turning it on and aiming with it around the room. He let out a thoughtful hum and took a photo of a bookcase.

After three seconds, the photo was already printed and Tim stared between the piece of paper and the screen of the camera.

“That's...” Tim frowned at the printed photo he had taken, the frown slowly deepening with each second. “That doesn't even look like the bookcase”

Peter snorted and took a peek at the photo. It truly didn't look like a bookcase, just a block of black and dark grays.

“Oh hey, it looks like my house.”

Tim stared up at him with an unsaid question in his eyes; however, the door in front of them opened before he could ask anything.

“I'm sorry for the wait, but it looks like the last time someone used the room, they just left it without putting things back in their place.” She pointedly stared at Tim and then turned to Peter with a smile. “I found a few road maps. It looks like there were some heavy changes done very close between them so I took a few from around the same period to cover for that. I also brought out a recent one so you can use it as a reference.”

While telling him that, the woman slowly started stacking up the maps in Peter's hands, pointing out which ones were older, which ones were from almost exactly thirty years ago, and which ones were from one or two years after that.

“I knew we make too many changes to the streets during the year, but never enough to justify so many maps.” The woman started moving back to the elevator, clearly expecting Peter to follow, and he was going to do so until Tim put a hand over his shoulder and stopped him.

“Hey Babs, do you think we can use a meeting room?”

“Tim, stop harassing the kid.” Babs didn’t even turn around despite the heavy warning in her voice.

That was... not completely unwarranted. Tim was inserting himself into his plans; however, Peter didn't exactly mind. At least not yet. He was also slightly curious as to why he was being so pushy with seeing what Peter was doing, or if he was just really that into treasure hunts.

Not only that, Peter was liking this guy, even if he seemed a little intense – If they became friends, he was never going to let him live down the fact that he tried to sneak up on him after their little ride on the elevator. It was just so refreshing that he seemed interested in being his friend, even if it was just for the afternoon.
Tim was probably curious about the mask and while Peter wasn't going to share his life story with the teen, it was harmless enough.

“He asked a question, I get to stay.”

Peter blinked and turned to stare at Tim.

On the other hand, the teen was really pushing it right now.

Hearing the answer, the librarian stopped in her tracks and turned her chair. Her eyes went directly to Peter, raising an eyebrow in a silent question: Did he need saving?

Peter took a breath.

“Yeah, I did ask”

Something shifted in her eyes, something small but clear as day. She was now staring at Tim, however, when Peter turned, the teen was simply smiling smugly at the woman. When he turned his attention back to the librarian, she was also back to her polite smile.

“Ok, you can use a meeting room” she let out a sigh, begrudgingly accepting the situation. “It would be better for the maps, anyway. Do you need a key to open a room?”

“Is ok, I'll use yours” Tim raised the plastic badge, surprising Peter. When did he take it?

Not even faced with the trick, the woman took out a smartphone from the same bag the badge used to be. “Ok, I'll keep this as insurance. You better clean your mess once you are done, I'm not cleaning after you again.”

Without another word, she turned around and continued going towards the elevator.

Tim clicked his tongue and, in the same breath, took out a different cell phone, casually checking the time. “She took the good one.”

Peter stared at the second cell phone speechless, kind of lost in the thought that this happened so often that the woman had gone and done the same, right then and there. How did they manage to do it without him noticing it? He had only ever seen Natasha and Clint do something like that and it was them hiding each other's weapons.

“I'm guessing this is normal” Peter commented while watching Tim put the new cell phone in one of his pockets. It didn't look like he had anything else in there, but he also never noticed that Tim had a second phone so, as far as Peter was concerned, Tim had an entire store in those pockets.

“We live to get on each other's nerves” Tim offered a wolfish smile and turned around, already walking.

“Any chance you can teach me that trick?” If the teen wanted something from Peter, well, he might as well ask for something back.

Tim seemed to consider the request for a moment, never stopping walking between the rows of bookcases until they finally reached the hallway at the far back of the second floor. Peter looked at both ends, finding that there was an entrance to a new section on both sides.

“Why do you want to learn something like that?” he asked, eyeing Peter with suspicion.

“Why did you learn how to do it?” Peter fired back.

Tim shrugged. “Because is cool”

“Yeah, exactly”

Tim held his gaze for a second and then continued walking to the right. “Aren’t you the guy that fought an entire neighborhood, like, two days ago?”

“I fail to see how’s that relevant”

Tim snorted and nodded. “Me too. It would be funny if you knew how to do it”

They walked right into a big room with even more tables, however, everyone here was extremely quiet compared with the tables on the first floor.

“Where did you even hear that, anyway?”

Someone whispered to Peter to lower his voice and Peter whispered back a sorry, all while they continued walking through the room. On the back wall and in the ones to the side were multiple doors with far simpler electric locks.

Peter followed Tim to one of the doors, who tapped the lock with the badge and pushed the door once they heard the soft beep.

On the inside, the room had a long table that could comfortably seat six people, and a smaller table with a desktop computer in one of the corners. There was also a whiteboard screwed into the wall with still a few doodles and notes scribbled with red marker, left by the last person that was in there.

Tim pulled Peter inside and closed the door, an amused smile spreading across his face.

“Where? You don't use social media, do you?”

“I..” What else could he say here? “I don't have a phone to actually use it.”

Tim's face immediately soured with guilt, somehow finally putting two and two together. He gave a quick once-over to Peter, something done only with his eyes in an attempt to be discreet despite how obvious it had been for Peter. “Shit, sorry. I just assumed-”

“Is alright. So what are people saying about me?”

Done with keeping the maps in his arms, Peter let them fall over the table. The librarian had given him seven maps, but all he needed was the one from thirty years ago and maybe the most recent one to compare where things would be, so he took his time checking the maps again to find the one he needed.

Behind him, he could hear Tim take a long breath like he was suddenly anxious to be in the same room as him... Did Peter smell?

Oh god, did he?

“They are making bets” Tim finally talked again, walking around the table so he would be directly opposite to Peter. God, he did smell. “Some think you’re with Batman and others think you’re binding your time to try and take the city”

“I feel betrayed” Peter grumpily opened the map he needed and stared at the paper without reading. “Why would I protect anyone if I'm the bad guy?”

“To mark territory”

“That’s... an interesting thought. Do people do that?”

“Red Hood did it”

Hold on.

“Red Hood is a villain?”

“Red Hood is a bitch” Tim didn't hesitate with his answer, leaving Peter speechless for a second time. “But if your question is serious, I don't consider him a villain, despite all the-” He waved his hand in the air, making vague gestures, but it sent the message across.

The more Peter learned about this city, the crazier it seemed to be, along with everyone in it. It was so on brand that Red ‘I shoot kids on rooftops’ Hood had gone from a rogue to one of the city's heroes, and people were ok with that change. No wonder everyone in his neighborhood saw him and decided that they could deal with the weird kid who never takes the mask off. Peter was probably tame compared with everything else.

And Tim still had the audacity to try and judge Stephen.

“I think I'm starting to understand,” letting himself fall on one of the chairs, Peter let out a long sigh. “Everyone is just questionable in Gotham”

Tim muffled out a laugh, but still teased him back. “Says the one dressed for Halloween”

“I live here. I'm honoring a long-lasting tradition.”

“That's so conservative of you,” Tim rolled his eyes, sitting down too, but he had a growing smile on his face. “So what are we doing? I do remember I said I would help you with something.”

“You never said so,” Peter reminded him. “Also, you really were planning to help me?”

Pausing for a moment, Tim frowned slightly. He straightened, his face immediately losing the playful smile and shifting into a concerned expression.

“Why did you let me tag along if you thought I wasn't?”

“You're fun to be with. Also, you looked like you wanted something and I, for one, was curious as to what it was” Peter admitted while he took the bunch of photos out of his pockets and let them fall over the maps.

He needed a way to keep these organized in his pockets if he was going to continue this new hobby.

Tim grimaced. “Do you know what stranger danger is?”

For some reason, the question filled him with delight, and that rapidly twisted into an overflowing manic glee.

From the back of his mind, that new and bizarre instinct rose up, jerking up awake instead of the slow rise of last time, overwhelming him in less than a second. It screamed at Peter that the teen in front of him was a predator and would kill him if given the chance; however, there was a simple way to resolve the problem: Peter should jump over the table and. Tear. His. Throat. Open.

It was dizzying how hard the hunger hit him in an instant, warping his stomach in a painful twist with just how empty it suddenly felt. In a blink, Peter was aware of the sound of Tim's blood coursing through his body and the way everyone outside moved in their seats, the way they breathed and gasped for each bit of air. And the sound of it all got him salivating in anticipation.

A certainty drowned his mind, telling him he could reach out with his hand and simply pull at Tim's extremities and the man would fall apart under his fingers like a puppet with its strings cut off.

And he would enjoy the show.

It was hilarious hearing that question coming from the guy following strangers because he was now trapped with Peter.

“More than you think” Peter smiled and Tim flinched back in surprise. Could he see him smiling under his mask? Could he hear the glee and desire? “These are all conscious decisions”

His body tensed, prepared for the ambush. Now! Now that he isn't ready. Now that he is exposed! However, Peter didn't move, taking a deep breath instead and relaxing his body. He ignored the way his teeth gnawed at his lower lip like a starved dog, already tasting the blood between his teeth.

Something-

This wasn't right.

Peter came crashing down off the high just as fast as it came, blinking repeatedly to try to reorient himself and push his mind away from the mental image of skin breaking under his hands. He wasn't an animal, he wasn't going to harm someone just because his mind was now set on this strange illusion of being a hunter or whatever.

He grounded himself inside the room and sitting in his chair, his senses coming down to bearable levels of sound so it wouldn't hurt to think.

Turning to Tim, he found him staring back.

Sharp eyes were glued on him with anticipation, Tim's whole body tensed and ready to either run or fight him, oozing apprehension from every pore, however, his eyes glowed with interest and looked at Peter with dilated pupils as if the sheer intensity of his gaze could steal all of Peter's secrets. The delighted cackle of his boss resounded in his head, right after Peter had threatened him with a car crash.

Quietly, Peter started sorting his photos until he managed to find the ones with the addresses. When he did so, he put the rest back into his pockets and offered the others to Tim.

“Anyway, wanna help me look up these addresses?”

If they could be freaks together, then they were friends.

This was just the Gotham way, right?

Notes:

Peter to Tim: I don't know what is wrong with you
Peter to Tim: but I also don't know what is wrong with me, so it would be quite hypocritical to say anything

-----

I'm gonna be busy on Monday and I refuse at all costs to update this on the weekend so you get this a few days ahead of time.

Is Tim's personality canon? I wouldn't bet on that. Is it interesting? I hope so.

I'm not so satisfied with this chapter. I was when I wrote it the first time, but coming back to it 3 months later, it reads a little stale :/
Hope you all read it with new eyes and a little more compassion than me

Chapter 15

Tim's heart was still racing when he finally tried to relax into the chair and reached out to take the photos. He locked eyes with Peter, as if waiting for Peter to suddenly drop the papers and grab his arm, but none of that happened.

So he slowly took the papers from Peter's hand and then looked down at them.

Tim groaned.

“Fuck, I need to get you a better camera” Was not what Peter was expecting to hear, but those words melted the rest of the tension out of him. “Can you even read this?”

Peter snickered at the face Tim was making, amused by how much the guy hated the printed photos.

“I would say they are perfectly legible, you just have something against fun”

“Legible my ass, and I'm fun. But how fun can it be to find some addresses?t” Tim threw the photos over the table and leaned against the back of his seat, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You were the one following me without asking”

After a pause, Tim let out a long sigh and slowly nodded.

“I'm not backing down, I just-” He looked at the photos one more time and grimaced. “I haven’t slept in days, I thought you'd have something more interesting”

Peter snorted at the sincerity.

“This was planned as a one-man thing anyway. Why don't you make yourself a bed? There's plenty of chairs here”

That sounded reasonable and when Tim didn't answer back, Peter just assumed that the teen would go ahead and take that nap. However, the moment he reached for the photos to take them back and start actually doing what he came for to the library, Tim snatched them from the table first, a look full of determination in his eyes.

“Not happening. How am I supposed to fall asleep if you keep me in the dark with this?”

It was hilarious to see him take back the pieces of paper and squint at them like he really couldn't read them, like a baby-faced grampa. And maybe there was some truth in that because, now that Peter was paying more attention to the man, he could see the dark circles under his eyes and the bags that had bags of their own. He seemed to be already kind of intense on his own, but those bags gave him a manic air that didn't help his case...

Was him- Was Tim thinking through any of his decisions before making them at all? It made more sense now that the librarian waited for Peter’s answer instead of trusting her friend's word.

Maybe Peter had been reading him all wrong.

And Tim absolutely needed that nap if his struggle to read the photos was any indication; however, before he could insist that the other go to sleep, Tim got up from his chair and started using a blue marker to write down the six addresses along with the extra lines on the whiteboard.

‘Beyond the fountain, before the bricks’

‘Across the street, below the tower’

‘Down the weeping angle, take its hand’

‘Knock on the sixth, it’ll open’

‘Descend and walk into the tunnel’

‘The Cherub marks the road’

“Ok, so for starters, I don't think this one is right.” Crossing out ‘angle’, Tim wrote above it ‘angel’ instead. “Second, this is a really bad poem if that's what it is.”

“Never occurred to me,” Peter tilted his head, reading the lines again.

After a pause, both of them reached the same conclusion. “They are instructions.”

The silence stretched for another minute while they re-read the lines.

“That wasn't that complicated,” Tim turned to Peter, sounding all kinds of indignant.

“This is the first time I actually sit down and read them,” Peter admitted, getting up to take the blue marker and put down the shops that used to be in those streets. They were probably useless for this, but at least he would feel like he had contributed something.

Tim stared at the new notes with a raised eyebrow. “How long have you had these?”

“Three days? Maybe two?”

“And you never read them?” He was starting to sound irritated. More with himself than with Peter, but there was some of that directed to him.

“I’ve been busy getting shot and breaking my stitches, can't a man have hobbies?”

“I'm just going to ignore that.” Tim took the marker back and started adding a small note. “Babs said that there were drastic changes done to the city in a short period, that's why she gave you more than one map.”

“Yeah, project ‘whatever is its current name’ has been ongoing for around forty years.” Peter snatched the marker and added the number below Tim's note.

“Which makes these reference points useless.”

“Not exactly.” With the marker, Peter made an arrow beside three of the addresses. “See these three? They mention going down something, the fifth one in specific mentions going physically down-”

“So there's still a chance that whatever was there, is still there” Tim cut him off, nodding along to Peter’s comment.

“If we can put together a vague image of what was there-” “We could find where ‘descend’ is”

Tim hummed and then took out his phone, quickly writing down something while he spoke, also taking a quick photo of the whiteboard. “I guess it would be worth checking if any of the buildings that used to be there are still standing- Babs says she can check if there are any photos in the archives.”

Peter nodded. “We could also check newspapers from those years, if they have any.”

“Pretty sure they do, but the problem with Gotham is that things go up in flames daily, I'm not sure if the library has done the same at some point, so I'm not even betting on those photos.”

“That tracks.” Gotham was a trash bin on fire most days. Some of those days, the fire was literal, so a fire at the library sounded like a real possibility; not only that, with how fast the landscape changed inside the city, he was willing to bet that this building hadn't always been the library, or at least not the main one. Things tended to get lost on moving days, and sometimes people paid for that to happen.

Turning to the open map on the table, Peter left the marker by the board and returned to his chair. “Guess our best bet would be to stop ignoring the main event.”

“Nah, I think we can stare at the board and go delusional over these clues. Worse theory buy the snacks”

That got a chuckle out of Peter. “You really don't want to check the map, do you?”

“Checking the map is too easy! We'll be done in five minutes, and this was supposed to be me running away from work. If we finish, Babs is going to know and will kick me out.”

“How is she going to know? I can keep a secret.” How funny it was to be saying this again.

Tim shook his head and let out a long sigh, sinking into one of the chairs. “Oh, believe me. She will, she just has this sixth sense for this sort of things.”

Peter considered his words and looked down at the map. He could very much multitask and it wasn't like he could visit any of these places today without more money. If he got sidetracked to indulge the other, then it was an easy price to pay for the company.

He was confident he could offer something up to Tim's standards.

“Unrelated, but did you know that the project that keeps changing the streets was rumored to be under the control of this secret court-cult-myth-thing?” Peter looked between the map and the whiteboard while he talked, double checking the name of the first street so he could try to find it on the map.

The comment was a hit with Tim because he instantly snapped his head back to Peter. “A court?”

“Yeah, there was this forum from, like, fifteen years ago? Someone started a thread as a joke and people just ran with it. That was a read of thirty seven glorious pages of people slowly descending into madness” There’s the first street, now, he just needed to follow it to find the right place. “Some of the arguments they gave were pretty good, almost make me a believer”

“See? This was the type of thing I was expecting when I started following you” Tim excitement was palpable, instantly invigorating the man.

“Because I exist to keep you entertained” Peter teased him, however, he stopped looking at the map when Tim put a hand over it, obscuring the section Peter was looking at.

Looking up, Tim had a wolfish smile, wide and slightly manic.

“Of course you do” He shamelessly retorted. “Do you have the link?”

Nice to see that the teen was having such a good time.

“If you take over the map, I can open it on the computer”

“Deal”

And just like that, Tim turned the map over so he could see it better and started searching the addresses. He probably would have found the first one in seconds with how fired up he was, however, it was comical to see him hunch over the map with the confidence of ten men just to start squinting at the small letters of the road map.

Defeated by awful typography.

Been there, done that.

Since Tim had offered to find the addresses, and it looked like he could stay there for a while, Peter got up and went to the computer at the corner. Doing the log in to his email, he opened the only mail he had and stared at the list of undescriptive links...

He had the mind to think of sending them to himself, but not to label them.

Tony would have a field trip with this.

And then Pepper would call him out on his bullshit.

Peter sighed.

Hope Tim was aware enough to sort these out on his own because Peter decided that he didn't want to do it and opened the fifteen links in new tabs, slightly confused by the number – He clearly remembered sending himself fewer links, what were the others about?

As a small gesture of goodwill, he increased the zoom on all the tabs to 120% and called it a day.

...

Actually. Before he could turn to Tim, he made sure he was logged out of his account and cleared the cache of the browser.

This account was new, and all the personal information used for the registration was fake, but it was one of the few things in this world that was completely his, and Peter wasn't sure it was a good idea to give it to Tim. It was one thing to consciously make questionable decisions, and it was another to be stupid enough to give any type of contact information to someone who tended to follow strangers around.

“I got it open, wanna trade places?”

“God, yes. This thing is giving me a headache.” Tim rubbed at his temples, getting up from his chair and stumbling to the computer.

Peter wordlessly moved out of the way and let Tim fall into the chair so he could have enough space to walk back to the table.
There were two small post-its on the map now, and when Peter took a peek, he could see that they were there to indicate the addresses.

“You work fast.” Sinking into his own chair, Peter stared at the whiteboard to check for the third address.

Tim didn't answer, and Peter wasn't expecting him to do so anytime soon. He still remembered the trip it was to read the entire threat that afternoon, so Tim might be gone for an hour or so, depending on how exhausted he was.

The third address was easy enough, and Peter took another post-it from the small bunch left behind by Tim to mark it on the map. When he didn't find the fourth one in less than three minutes, he moved to the fifth address; that one was also easy so he moved to the sixth and got stuck again.
Double-checking the map, he followed with a finger the lines of the main avenues and then the ones for small streets; however, he was still unable to find the right streets.

Considering that thirty years had been only an estimate, Peter took one of the older maps from the pile and opened it over the one he was already consulting. Doing the same, he used a finger to follow the streets and read their names.

And still couldn't find what he was searching for.

Taking the oldest, Peter tried searching one more time, only to end with his hands empty once more. Did he need an older map?

He hummed to himself, staring at the small words over the maps, indicating the streets of a city that no longer existed.
Glancing at the other maps that the librarian gave him, Peter shrugged and decided to give it a go; if he couldn't find the streets then that was it, he had four already so it wasn't like he had wasted his time on something that either was written wrong or just didn't exist.

“I just realized that you changed the zoom on this thing.”

Peter looked up from the maps and found Tim looking back at him from the computer. He had a pleased smile on his face, but looked closer to falling asleep than before. Good, maybe he would take that nap in the end.

“How’s the thread going?”

“Wild, just like I like it. How’s map searching?”

“Ongoing. I can't find two of the addresses.”

Tim snorted but still got out of the chair and walked back to the table. “Seriously? I didn't think you’d need my help for this.”

“Says the one that can't read.”

The teen smirked at the tease. “Five bucks says that I can find them in five minutes.”

Peter smirked back, pushing the maps toward Tim. “Ten say that you can't.”

With absolute confidence, Tim sat down at the table and started to do exactly what Peter had done before: look at the map, follow the lines, open the next map, and search again.
After ten minutes, he quietly took out his wallet and slipped ten dollars to Peter.

“It was an honor doing business with you, sir.” Peter reached for the money and instantly pocketed it alongside the photos and the cable.

“Shut up, why aren't these here?” Tim complained, taking one of the less old ones and giving it a quick check, just to click his tongue and let it fall on the table. “They don't exist anymore and they aren't recent, I would remember hearing of them”

“I thought that maybe the names were wrong, but I can't find anything that looks like them” Peter searched the photos, moving the maps out of the way until he finally found them stuck between map one and map two. “Maybe these didn't last long enough to add them to the map?”

“No one works that fast, even less in Gotham” On his side, Tim was giving a second look to the maps, soft frown in his face.

Peter almost felt bad for the guy. He looked two steps away from falling on the ground unconscious and here he was, trying to help Peter find something that was probably not even that important... Almost.
Since Tim was hoarding the maps, Peter got up from his chair with a huff and walked back to the white board. The thing wouldn't come to life and tell him any secret, but there was this nagging feeling at the back of his mind, telling him that he was overlooking something.

All of the instructions sounded infuriatingly cryptic, but also, incredibly simple.

They were... They were simple directions. Like the ones someone would give when anyone asks where the closest gas station was. They weren't trying to be hard to decipher, they were hard because Peter simply didn't live in the same time period the author did and because the streets were long gone.

They were trivial and obvious. Anyone would know these places. They could go there and the instructions would make sense.

So what does that tell him?

Why would that be important?

Peter stared at the words a little longer and finally noticed something.

“Tim,” the teen hummed in acknowledgement, behind him but didn't say anything else. “Do you know of any place or statue called Cherub or The Cherub?”

“I- What?” Peter turned back to Tim and found him lifting his head from the table and turning to look at him, his right cheek red from where he had been laying down.

Tim blinked disoriented, as if processing that he had fallen asleep while looking at the maps.

“Ah- Sorry, go back to sleep. I'll use the computer”

“No, no, I'm fine” He rubbed his eyes and, despite his best efforts, let out a long yawn. “I just need a coffee. Or maybe an energy drink”

“If you take both, then maybe the whiteboard will talk with you. It’s giving me the cold shoulder.”

Tim glared at him. “What was your question?”

Oh– Peter knew that glare. It was the same that Tony used with Steve whenever the soldier found him still working on a project the next morning and told him to go to sleep. Tim was invested, which was weird for someone only looking up addresses.

“I asked if you knew of a place or statue called The Cherub?” Peter walked to the computer while talking, closing the tabs that were open and getting a new search going.

“Doesn't ring a bell.” Tim followed suit, standing beside Peter so he could see the screen. “Why?”

“I was thinking that cherub has a capital, and if these are directions, then it would be something people knew and used, like, go forward two streets and turn to the left at the Cherub. Something like that”

Tim nodded. “Makes sense, so you are looking it up?”

“Is more like testing my luck, but most of the time I'm not that lucky.” He shrugged and started typing.

‘The Cherub Gotham’

‘Cherub Gotham’

‘Cherub Gotham -robin’

‘Cherub statue’

‘Cherub statue Gotham’

‘Cherub statue Gotham old’

‘Cherub statue Gotham old -cemetery -graveyard’

‘Cherub Gotham 19XX’

‘Cherub Gotham 19XX -cemetery -graveyard’

‘Cherub Gotham 19XX -cemetery -graveyard -church’

‘Cherub Gotham 19XX -cemetery -graveyard -church -murder’

‘Cherub Gotham -cemetery -graveyard -church -murder’

‘Cherub Gotham -cemetery -graveyard -church -murder -robin’

Peter hummed deep in thought while thinking what else to try, all while Tim was trying so hard not to laugh too loud by his side. Who would have thought that the city with heavy gothic architecture had a lot of religious imagery tossed around? Probably everyone, what Peter wasn't expecting was the copious amounts of edited photos of Robin with angel wings.

He wondered if people were doing the same with Batman, so he opened an extra tab and searched that next, resulting in Tim cackling loudly and falling to the floor beside him when the screen filled with images of Batman, topless and with black wings.

“...I honestly don't know what I was expecting”

Tim let out a choked laugh and kept laughing on the floor to Peter's amusement.

“Do you think the librarian will say anything if I print one of these so I can ask Batman for an autograph later?”

Tim went breathless, unable to laugh any harder.

“Yeah, flawless plan.” Peter clicked on one of the images, one he sincerely thought had a good composition, and sent it to print. Only god knew where that printed, but he had a hunch that the librarian would find it first. “Anyway, I don't think we are going to find it tonight, so I'm going to check the ones we do have.”

Careful not to step on him, Peter got up from the chair and jumped over the still-laughing Tim so he could return to the table.

They found four of the addresses. Now Peter just needed to compare the places with the most recent map they had and he would be able to get an idea of where to search. There were two parks that, even if they didn't have the same shape as before, were still somewhat in the same location so Peter used them to try to determine where the four addresses ended up.
At some point, Tim got back up from the floor and offered a hand, running the numbers on his phone and pinpointing a little more exact -but still tentative- locations for the four addresses.

The results were mixed.

The park from address one survived all the changes to the city, but it was hard to know if the fountain mentioned in the directions was still there. Still, so far, it was their best bet.

Address number three used to be in a graveyard that more or less still existed... Except that at some point in the last thirty years, the graveyard had been moved to a nearby area, so all corpses were dug up and moved to the new location.
Tim actually knew about this and opened a quick article on his phone to show to Peter. Apparently, it had been quite controversial since a lot of the funerary art had been broken on the move – Statues, gravestones, and entire mausoleums were destroyed, and the dead were just buried in the dirt. Families tried to sue, but just a few were compensated and got token payments for the whole ordeal.

“Why did they move it?”

“Officially, it was because water used to gather there during the rainy season, digging people up. Four months later, they started construction for a shopping mall, so no one believed it.”

Address number two was now a mall (according to the internet), and address number five was a random building, or at least was marked like one. Yet, Tim didn't seem convinced by this, frowning and wordlessly walking back to the computer.
It took less than two minutes of checking current photos of the address to see that there was no building there; instead, the area was blocked off by semi-permanent walls that hid the bare bones of a construction that got stopped just as soon as it was started. Most importantly, photos taken from the tall building to the right showed the area in the background and, in their opinion, showed the floor shifting into what was the entrance to the tunnel.

And just like that, from six, they had only two viable options.

Peter stared at the seven windows they had open, all of them with different photos that showed the area in the corner. The quality wasn't great after doing a 200% zoom on the area they wanted to see, but it did give the vague idea that something was there.

“I don't think squinting harder is going to make those fifteen pixels tell you anything,” Tim teased behind him.

“Not with that attitude,” Peter turned to stare at him, but paused when he saw the other quietly folding the maps.

Right, they had what they wanted.

They should go.

That was somewhat disappointing, still, Peter closed the browser and made sure to turn off the computer. Now that he knew where he needed to check, he might be able to check them out with the ten dollars Tim gave him...
No, he should budget those and use them in something better; he might be able to buy some snacks for the kids back home. Also, he didn’t like the idea of leaving the neighborhood alone for too long. He was aware that he wasn't strictly needed; this city had more than enough people watching over it, but he...

He what?

“Sorry,” Tim's voice cut short that line of thought, slightly startling Peter. “I started cleaning up, and I didn't even ask if you were going to do something else.”

“Nah, this is more than enough for me.” Peter moved back to the table, reaching for the photos they had left under the maps.

“Yeah? And which one are we visiting first?”

Peter stopped in his tracks.

“I- Sorry?”

Tim also stopped in the middle of putting his jacket back so he could stare at Peter. “Aren’t we going?”

“Right now?” Tim nodded reluctantly, looking just as lost as Peter. “I, um, I was going to do it later. I need to save for the ride, and I'm not sure when the last train leaves the station.”

Tim blinked and then smiled relieved, his whole body relaxing into the motion of putting his jacket on.

“I thought it would be something different.” From the pocket of his pants, he took out a set of keys and confidently added, “Let me go with you and I'll drive you anywhere, I'll even get you home after. What do you say?”

No, immediately said Peter's common sense.

No, said all those lessons Uncle Ben gave him about stranger danger.

No, also said every single thing he had learned on the job.

It would be fun, said his curiosity.

He’s vulnerable, said that new bizarre part of his mind, trying to wake up and rise just as before.

Peter did the mental equivalent of slapping its hand.

“You? Behind the wheel? I would like to make it to twenty, thanks,” He half-joked while taking the photos from the table and putting them back in his pockets.

“I'm a better driver than anyone else in my family,” Tim retorted, offended. Or at least he pretended to be. There was something in the tone of his voice that made it sound like he was telling a recurring joke.

“That's not the winning argument you think it is,” Peter shot back, delighted by the huff Tim let out.

With the photos back in his pocket, Peter made his way to the whiteboard and started erasing the notes they had made, making sure to press a little harder on the addresses so not even the ghost of the blue marker would remain – He liked to think that no one would be stupid enough to go to a random address left on the walls of the library, but then again, he was following random addresses left on an envelope in a random apartment.

Needless to say, it would be better to make sure no one would be able to follow his steps.

“Are you sure you don't want to go check it out?” Tim insisted behind him, sounding like someone had kicked his dog. “Are you really going to make me go alone?”

Peter turned back at Tim and squinted. “I was thinking of me going alone, actually”

“Well, it's not like you can stop me.” Tim crossed his arms. “I took a photo of the board so I know where to go”

“Dude, you were falling asleep one hour ago, don't you wanna rest before going? Is not like whatever is in there is going to move”

Tim shook his head like Peter was the one being unreasonable. “You really don't know Gotham”

“That's-” Peter paused and then nodded because, yeah, he didn't know what was normal in this city. “Ok, maybe that's a good point. Do things grow legs here or were you just being annoying?”

Tim scrunched his nose at the idea, absolutely disgusted by the implications.

“Why would things grow legs?”

Oh, so now Peter was the weird one. The audacity of this man.

“Because of magic?”

“Wait, you know how to do magic?” The other asked in disbelief, taken aback for a moment and also taking Peter by surprise.

“No! Why would I know how to do magic?”

“I don't know, why did you even mention magic?”

“Because you implied it?”

“I did not-” Tim prepared to say something else but paused. He seemed deep in thought for a moment and then groaned, rubbing at his eyes a little bit harder than he should. “You know what? I fold. Jason was right, I do get like a cranky old man when I haven't slept.”

“Just take a nap, man. You're going to drive us against a wall if we go out right now.”

“But I really, really wanted to check it out,” Tim pouted. “You're going to go alone and get lost in the sewers or something and I'm going to miss out.”

“Lovely vote of confidence,” Peter said sarcastically. Why did everyone expect the worst for him? “Will you shut up and take a nap if I promise to be here once you wake up?”

In a blink, Tim was in front of Peter, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Yes, and you can't take it back.”

“Yeah, no backsies. Now, get on the table.”

His smile wavered. “The table?”

“Yeah, c’mon, over the table. I'll give you my sweater so you can use it as a pillow.” Gently, Peter pushed the hands away from his shoulders and guided Tim back to the table.

“That's... Thoughtful of you.”

“Stop stalling. Up you go.”

The climb started slow and awkward, with Tim often glancing at Peter as if he was expecting Peter to explode in laughter and tell him that he had been joking. Yet, when he realized that Peter was being sincere, the movements became casual as he accepted his destiny and lay down on the table.
It was pure luck that Peter decided to use a shirt under his sweater that day because he didn't hesitate to take off his sweater and fold it several times until it felt fluffy enough to be used as a pillow.

“Feel free to throw it back at me if it smells,” He told Tim while offering the sweater.

“You're staying, right?” Tim reached for the piece of clothing and simply put it under his head. If it smelled badly, he didn’t react.

“I'll go for the thing I printed a while ago, see if they didn't throw it out.”

Tim tried to sit immediately, but Peter pushed him back down, already expecting the reaction. The teen clicked his tongue, clearly exasperated with how easy Peter had done that.

“That’s my second favorite sweater, so you better not run away with it, got it?”

That seemed to calm down Tim because the guy nodded, closed his eyes, and Peter could hear his heart rate slow down almost instantly with how fast he fell asleep. It was rather impressive and quite worrying, but Peter couldn’t say he disapproved of it since his own sleeping schedule was a mess even before he came to Gotham.

Peter took a deep breath.

The fluorescent lights above his head buzzed lazily while he took a break from the day, quietly listening to Tim’s breathing. He missed everyone. It was strange how things changed over time. When he was small, the worst thing about being broke was the fear of seeing Aunt May cry due to the stress and cost of raising him; the worst thing now was the deep feeling of utter loneliness that somehow crushed him at all times.
He could handle being homeless and the constant hunger, he had confidence that he would have found a source of income on his own, and even if things didn't come to it, he had the skills to steal without being caught to give himself somewhere to start. Despite how desperate things seemed at the start, he had been confident enough to impose rules on himself of what he could take and what he couldn't. No, none of these would have been a problem.

Yet, he had never noticed how full of people his life was back home. He had never been truly alone even in those moments he felt forgotten by the world, when life stepped all over him and left him on the ground. Yes, he had to do things on his own more often than not, but after all the chaos settled and the day ended, he could go back home to Aunt May and start a video call with Ned and MJ.

Leaning against the door, he took another deep breath and gave himself time to just exist and blink the tears away. This wasn't the place.

It was odd to realize that he missed the dark of the storm drain network along with the stillness and the echoes of steps above him, joining together to create a new melody.

Maybe he could visit that place again.

“Ok, let’s go” He whispered to himself, carefully opening the door and stepping out.

The hall was almost empty, with only one table being used in the corner: a pair of men silently making notes on their laptops while sharing hushed comments. Doing his best to not disturb them, Peter walked to the entrance of the hall and to the elevators; he never asked where the printers were and it had been a while since he printed the image so there was no way that paper was still there, so his only plan was to walk back to the main desk and ask the librarian.

The woman, Babs, waved at him as soon as he was out of the hallway with bookcases, the polite edge of the expression already gone and replaced with something warm and sincere.

“I was about to go up and see if you were still alive” She joked with a playful tone. “I’m assuming that this is yours?”

“Tim is right, you do have a sixth sense” Peter reached out and took a piece of paper from her hand, choking down a chuckle when he saw topless Batman staring back at him.

“I would appreciate it if you didn't leave this kind of content at the printers, we do have kids coming here”

“Sorry, I lost track of time and forgot”

He folded the paper a few times and put it in his pockets which felt like bursting with the number of papers inside them.

“Did Tim convince you to print it?” Babs asked, one judgmental eyebrow raised while waiting for the answer.

“Credit where it’s due, please. It was my idea, I’m going to hunt Batman down and ask him for an autograph.”

Babs choked. “Oh my god”

“Should I get a different photo?” She choked again and this time laughed out loud for a moment before recovering her composure. It looked like she was making a great effort not to full-on cackle the same way Tim had done before.

“No, no, I think-” Her voice strained, and she tried to cover her laugh with some fake coughs. “I think he would be honored.”

“Yeah, I thought the same.”

“I can see why Tim hasn’t let you out of that room,” Babs took a few breaths, doing a better job this time of calming herself down. “Talking about him, where is he? The library is closing in thirty minutes.”

Oh? It was that late?

“He’s taking a nap. Do you want me to go wake him up?”

Babs raised an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed, and she opened her mouth as if to say something; however, she stopped herself and glanced at Peter like she just remembered who she was talking with.

“Wait, you are serious.” She stared at Peter with genuine disbelief, “How did you do that?”

“I promised I would be there when he wakes up.” He shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable under her expectant gaze. “We are going urban exploring once that happens.”

“Damn, you can stay as long as you want then. I think he has slept two hours in the last fifty-four.”

Peter grimaced. Surely she was joking.

“We could call him a taxi? We can just move the exploration for another day.”

“No, no, no, are you crazy? You wake him up, and it's game over, he'll refuse to go back to sleep. I mean it when I say that you can stay as long as you want, I have a few things to do I’ve been ignoring”

Babs leaned out of view for a brief moment and came back up with a stack of papers in her hands, as if to show Peter that she was telling the truth. When Peter didn’t seem convinced, she leaned down again and came back up with a second, thicker stack of papers.

Somehow, that didn't make Peter feel better about Babs staying longer at the library.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” She said while leaving the papers on the desk, looking around her place, and her eyes brightening when she found a binder. “Also, Tim asked me to check if we had any photos. I'm not sure if this works, but I did find this album.”

Peter took it from her hands and opened it to a random page, staring at the photos for a moment. Somehow, he expected professional photos, either focused on the artistic aspect of the act of taking a photo or professional photos taken for newspapers; yet, these photos couldn't be further from that.
They were amateur, photos depicting streets and buildings through the eyes of someone who saw them every day and still found them beautiful.

“I think it was donated by a woman after her husband passed away.” Peter passed the page and stared at the photo of a woman sitting on a park bench, smiling widely. “She wanted more people to see his photos.”

“I didn't know that's something you could do,” He answered absentmindedly, entranced by how ordinary every photo looked. They were beautiful.

“It counts for a few things. Do you have something you want to donate?”

He didn't have anything.

“I don't know, I'll think about it.” Peter closed the binder and looked up. “Can I stay here with you for a while? Tim has the key, and I don't want to wake him up.”

“Hm, I don't know. How good is your writing?”

“Legible”

“Good. Help me fill these forms, and you can stay.”

Babs showed him how to get inside the desk, ducking under a movable wall, and let him use a chair that a coworker had left earlier that day. Working with Babs was different, quieter than the stream of ideas from his brainstorm session with Tim; it was a welcome change, so Peter could turn off his brain and simply repeat the information from one place to the other.

After thirty minutes, Babs excused herself so she could make the last rounds to close the library. Peter offered to help her out since the library was quite big and it seemed she was the only one available at the moment, however, she insisted on doing it herself and to stay at the desk in case anyone tried to get inside, that way he could tell them the library was closed for the day.
Reluctantly agreeing, Peter stayed at the desk filling form after form, listening to the wheels of Babs’ wheelchair moving around the building in case she needed a hand. At some point she made a call and Peter decided he had been peeking for far too long so he focused back to the papers he had in front of him and to the third heartbeat at the library.

An hour later, Babs came back to the desk and offered Peter a cup of coffee as a thanks and to help him keep him awake.

“Thanks!” Peter almost snatched the cup from her hands and excitedly brought it closer to his lips. The warm, almost-too-hot, feeling of the coffee against the fabric of his mask woke him up instantly and he put the cup down before he could down the rest over himself and the paperwork he had been painstakingly filling up for the last hour.

Babs chuckled by his side and when he turned to her, she was trying to hide her smile with a hand. It was polite and nice, and it absolutely didn't match the intensity in those eyes, interest shining bright despite being abysmally better concealed under sensible glee.

In the end, she was Tim's friend.

“If you need a nap, don't be afraid to tell me” She teased him while going around the desk. Peter got up from his place and opened the fake wall to let her pass. “Thank you, but I'm serious. I'm already grateful that you managed to make Tim take a nap”

“Is alright, I'm used to working late. I just haven't done it in a while”

“Yeah? You had a job?”

“More like an internship, but not really?” Working alongside Tony on his latest obsession counted like an internship, no? He did learn a lot with him even if it didn't happen that often.

“That's impressive. What was it about?”

Peter considered the question for a moment. Robotics would be the most encompassing term to it, since they did focus on building over the already existing concept for Iron Man and Spider-man. Still, Peter was aware that it would be a disservice to consider it just robotics, since-

Wait...

Ah.

That was something he couldn't say!

“Oh, you know how internships are, they tell you you'll learn something but then they get you filling paperwork and making coffee,” He rushed to lie hoping that Babs wouldn't hear it in the tone of his voice.

Babs hummed by his side. “That's why you're so good at filling up forms?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm used to it” He insisted and please shut up, shut up. Just shut up.

The conversation died out after that, mostly because Babs started furiously typing on one of the computers. The report she was working on must have been important because she kept at it without breaks for a long while before groaning to herself and telling Peter that she would go for another cup of coffee. She offered to bring another for Peter to which he gratefully accepted.

It had been at least two hours by the time Peter heard the telltale sound of a door opening, followed by the echo of steps. He looked up, towards the second floor, despite knowing that he wouldn't be able to see Tim from the desk.

“What's the matter?” Babs asked beside him, probably noticing him staring at the ceiling.

“Tim woke up.”

And, as if to prove him right, the sound of the elevator moving filled the entire building, echoing against the walls of the empty halls. Five minutes later, Tim walked out from the hall with bookcases, hair messy and eyes slightly unfocused but aware enough to frown at Peter once he saw him behind the desk.

“When you told me to take a nap, I thought you meant twenty minutes, not three hours.”

“Hey! Glad you are awake!” Peter cheered from his place, waving at Tim to get closer. “Come give us a hand, we are drowning in paperwork.”

“Paper-? No! You told me we would go after my nap!”

“And we are going, but what is thirty minutes more if it is to help a friend?” Peter waved a half-filled form in the air, enjoying the confusion and displeasure oozing out from Tim.

“I'm liking this one,” Babs added after a small snicker, sounding smug while she returned to the computer, the clicks and clacks echoing throughout the room.

Tim’s frown deepened, however, he walked right up to the desk while letting out a groan. He jumped to sit at the top of the desk, taking a quick peek at the papers Peter was working on, and made a face, vexed at the prospect of working on paperwork in the middle of the night.

“Oh, before I forget. B called,” Babs talked while her fingers continued dancing over her keyboard. “He wanted to know where you were. I told him you were taking the night for yourself.”

“Not like he was going to leave me in peace if I didn’t go home for the night.” He lay down over the desk, looking quite dramatic while he complained. Despite how hard the wood must be, he seemed to get comfortable quite fast, staring at Peter work for a few minutes before letting out a long sigh.

Reaching down, he took a few papers from the pile Peter had.

“Only thirty minutes,” Tim threatened.

“I give you my word as a spider.”

Tim let out a loud and short laugh. “Fuck off and give me a pen.”

Notes:

Don't you hate it when you go to sleep, and when you wake up, your buddy is already busy with a side quest?

Edit.- Made a small change at the end, where Peter is talking with Babs and he magically could drink coffee with hus mask on. I have mended it. Doesn't really change anything from the main plot but it is done (13/Aug/2025)

Chapter 16

Peter shrank into his sweater, hugging himself and pulling the fabric a little higher to cover the back of his neck, mentally cursing the night breeze while he followed Tim to his car.

Babs had kicked them out shy of twenty minutes after Tim accepted to help. The teen had diligently worked in silence for the generous amount of two minutes only to start reciting by memory the script of a movie that Peter couldn’t recognize but still found amusing. Babs didn’t think the same. She demanded they leave after seven minutes, and the rest of those twenty minutes were spent between Tim stubbornly continuing with the script and Babs starting to recite her own thing.

Their fight ended abruptly when Tim seemed to process the contents of Babs's words, and, while it made no sense to Peter, watching the growing look of horror and disgust in the teen’s face was definitely fun. The teen hurried to get up from his place and practically ran out of the library after that.

The entire thing was baffling and stupid. Peter loved it to no end.

He waved her goodbye and then ran after Tim, following him out of the building and into the cold night. Trying to contain his shivers, Peter followed the teen to a shiny gray car that looked extremely expensive, just like the ones Tony liked to use when he was in business mode but still wanted everyone to know how wealthy he was – The ones reserved for when a meeting with the shareholders was bound to happen and Tony wanted to broadcast a statement.

Tim walked around it and went for the driver's door, all while searching the keys in his pockets and complaining that he couldn't find them.

The smooth curves of the metal carcass seemed somewhat familiar, the same way that most labs felt similar to Peter. It brought odd memories to the surface, inconsequential scenes that at the time he brushed aside as common and that now he wouldn't be able to live again. His hand moved on its own and gently slid over the metal, surprised that it wasn't cold despite the fresh air.

If he closed his eyes, he could simply pretend that he was back home.

He kept his eyes open, waiting for Tim to be done pretending the keys for his car weren't in the left pocket of his jacket, just where Peter saw him put them back at the library.

“A photo might last longer,” came the teasing from Tim, who stopped searching for the damn keys and stared at Peter with a smug smile.

Peter tilted his head. “I was thinking how I could gut this.” It would be interesting to see what he could do with the parts. Tony would have a heart attack if he ever saw him destroying a car like this. “Isn't it overkill to come to the library on one of these?

Tim raised an eyebrow, and suddenly the keys were in his hands. “Jealousy is a disease, Spider-man”

“I would love to do our back and forth, but I'm freezing my ass out here. Can you open the door?”

Tim blinked in surprise; however, he promptly unlocked the doors, allowing Peter to open the co-pilot door and get inside the car. He breathed in relief, pushing himself deeper into the seat and the oversized sweater he was wearing, feeling the bliss of no longer being standing in the middle of the street on a cold night.

The driver's door opened and closed beside him, and Tim took a moment to throw his jacket over the mess in the backseats to later turn to Peter. “Do you have a fever or something? You're shivering.”

“Nah, it's just a little cold outside. I didn't come dressed for the occasion.”

“It's almost 36 degrees outside.”

“I know! Is time to bring out the coat.”

The other remained in silence, squinting at Peter and trying to decide if Peter was trying to mess with him. Peter simply waited in pleased silence, knowing that the longer Tim thought about it, the longer Peter would spend inside the car and away from the cold.

In all seriousness, it was concerning that it was supposed to be annoyingly warm outside to be the middle of the night –Seriously? 36 degrees at 1 a.m.? Was it 1 a.m.? God, Peter just didn't know– but Peter just felt cold. He felt like walking in the middle of an autumn afternoon in only a t-shirt.

Was he going to die because of it? No, but he would rather not be outside right now.

Maybe he could talk with Doctor Thompkins and ask if his health plan included some general tests. Might as well use that healthcare before anyone snatches it away.

“Are you sure you're feeling ok? I could get you some medicine,” Tim still insisted.

Peter waved his concerns away. “The Doc said I'm alright. Where are we going first?”

“Don't think I won't turn this car around if I learn you are sick. I'm fucking immunocompromised and I'm not expending the rest of the month in bed because of you.” And yet, he still turned the car on and prepared to go.

“And you are still going urban exploring in the middle of the night?”

Tim gave him the biggest side-glance and smirked, “These are all conscious decisions.”

Peter snickered by his side, amused to have his own words thrown at him. “Don't be a hypocrite, got it. Where are we going then?”

“The park is closer and easier,” Tim pointed out while trying to undo the collar of his shirt. Ah, right, it was supposed to be 36 degrees outside.

“Let me just-” Peter reached for the controls and turned on the AC, instantly feeling the cold air coming out of the vents. Since it was coming out as a gentle breeze, he turned it up so it would come out blasting from the vents and refresh the car faster.

“I thought you were cold?”

“Yeah, but I would rather avoid the driver having a heatstroke.”

Tim scoffed. “I'm not an old man.”

Peter laughed at the comment; however, Tim's smile became sharp while the car accelerated. They reached the park in half of the twenty minutes it was supposed to take, and it came as a surprise that Tim was not the only one out driving like the devil was after them, because at least three cars tried to start a street race with them.

When Peter got down, he almost kneeled and kissed the floor in relief.

“Stop being dramatic, I'm an expert driver.” Peter didn’t have to see his face to know he had the biggest grin in place.

“The good thing is that you have confidence.”

Ignoring the comment, Tim reached down and pulled Peter up. “Come on, the fountain is this way.”

The park was bigger than what the map had led Peter to believe, but it was still quite modest with its small planters and a rather restricted area for a playground. It was a pretty place, clean and with vibrant greens even during the nighttime, which was all good and dandy, if it wasn't for the design of the benches.
Tim was saying something about how they could go around to solve what the rule for the park meant now that they were there, but Peter was in no rush, so he wordlessly walked to one of the benches.

“Spider-man?”

“Over here,” He said out loud, sure that it was unnecessary since there was hardly anyone at the park besides them.

And talking about unnecessary things, Peter leaned forward and grabbed one of the two rails right in the middle of the bench. The metal twisted and molded with ease under his hands as if it was cold clay, so Peter pushed it down until he was sure that the metal lay as flat as it could be against the seat, but it still looked like an ugly lump. More importantly, it looked quite uncomfortable, so he pulled and twisted the metal to have a good grasp on it.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked behind him, sounding quite neutral for someone watching a teenager disfigure metal like it was a rather stubborn pile of half-melted rubber.

“Making the world a better place,” And with that, Peter pulled from the metal and carefully ripped it from the rest of the bench. “One bench at a time.”

“Are you planning to do that for all of the benches?”

“Do you have something better to do?” Not really sure of what to do with the rest of the metal, Peter squeezed it as much as he could into a ball and put it below the bench.

“...I kind of want to say yes.”

As an answer, Peter ripped the other railing on the bench. “Good news! Now you can take another nap if you want.”

Tim groaned loudly. “As if, I'm getting my wallet stolen if I take a nap here.”

“Then you can follow me while I do this because I'm not stopping.”

“You're going to get in trouble if someone sees you,” Tim added while following Peter to the next bench, although, it didn't sound like he wanted Peter to stop and was more saying it in the vein of ‘don't get seen’.

That made him smile under the mask.

“Good thing that the only one around here is you.”

Peter turned to Tim, who seemed surprised for a moment and then offered a complicit smile.

Freeing the park from unnecessary additions took around ten minutes plus another seven because Tim pointed out that they couldn't leave the balls of metal just laying around or people would just use them to pelt each other in less than a day, so Peter offered to bring them home with him if Tim allowed him to store them in the back of his car until they finished for the night.

With his auto-assigned side quest done, they finally went for the fountain.

The fountain by itself was quite the looker, and it was easy to see why the city had decided to keep it. The stone was carved into leafy stems that bloomed into big petals, opening themself to let the next stem rise from the middle and into the next level. It was not only beautifully detailed, but it raised its tip proudly as tall as a one-floor house. It was simply massive.

‘Beyond the fountain, before the bricks’

Following the instructions was the easiest part of the night. Around the fountain were two thick rings, one made of light-grey concrete and a second one made of dark bricks. On the side was a small concrete hatch that had a thin layer of cement over it in an attempt to seal it, which seemed quite the lazy work. A few pulls from Peter, and it opened to reveal a metal ladder that descended into the darkness.

“That's quite the tight fit.” Tim made a face while kneeling to peek inside.

It really was.

The tunnel down was slightly narrower than Peter’s back, which meant it was going to be a pain to descend and see what was down there.

“...I don't think an adult was supposed to go down for this one.”

Tim hummed. “That would explain why they chose the park.”

“Do you think it was like that for the other places?” Tim turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, like, a park because you need a kid?”

“So you would need someone specific for the others?”

“I mean, there's no way to confirm it, but it looks better planned than I thought.”

“Sounds like a solid theory with what we know.” Tim stood up, eyes glued to the hole. “It's going to be a little difficult, but I'm sure I can do it.” And then his eyes moved to Peter. “You, on the other hand...”

“Just say that I'm fat, it would be less mean,” Peter stood up laughing. “For your information, I can totally fit, I just need to leave my hoodie in the car.”

The change was instantaneous. Tim straightened with a worried expression, far more concerned than Peter. “Aren’t you cold?”

“The cold isn't going to kill me,” Peter rolled his eyes while taking the sweater off, careful not to let his camera fall in the process. He immediately trembled when the air blew by and pointedly avoided looking at Tim. “Besides, I'm not letting you go down there alone.”

“Because both of us getting stuck down there is a great plan,” Tim started walking away toward his car, so Peter followed him.

“Beats getting stuck alone, don't you think?”

“I guess that's true. We can start eating each other if we get stuck,” Tim turned with a playful smile.

“You have my full consent to eat me when we inevitably get stuck.”

Tim waited for Peter so he could playfully punch him in the arm and then unlocked the car so Peter could leave the sweater inside. While Peter did that, the teen went to the back and opened the trunk, unceremoniously taking his shirt and pants off so he could change and wear a more casual outfit.

“Damn, are you seriously giving that show for free?” Peter teased, slightly curious about the bandages around the teen's torso, but way too flustered that Tim did that out of nowhere to ask.

Tim smirked and, with the most pedantic tone he could muster, answered, “This shit is designer.”

“Oh, I'm sorry Mister Rich Man. I should have known.”

“Yes, you should have,” and then he laughed while grimacing to himself. “God, do you imagine having to hear that shit all day?” Peter could. “Anyway, Alfred will kill me if I get this dirty again, so I'm hoping you don't feel too captivated by my improvised striptease.”

“Honestly, I think you can work a little more on it.”

“Shut up, I did just fine.”

“Of course, because you're the expert stripteaser”

“Indeed I am.”

Another fifteen minutes passed while they tried to one-up each other before one of them remembered that they were in a park, past midnight, trying to do something incredibly stupid, so they tried to get back on track and walked back to the fountain.

Tim was eager to go first, explaining that his phone had a flashlight and he could light things up for Peter on his way down. Unfortunately for the teen, Peter was there as Spider-man even if they had been fooling around most of the night, so he couldn't let him go first in good conscience; still, Peter was certain that Tim couldn't be reason with, even less when the man was already trying to go down the ladder without waiting for an answer.

So he took Tim by the shoulders and pulled him out, getting an undignified gasp out of Tim in the process.

“Sorry man, but let's leave the first crawl to the actual spider.”

Tim glared at him, although with his arms crossed and the small little pout on his face, he didn't look intimidating at all. “You're lucky I left my pepper spray in the car.”

“Which you can only have yourself to blame,” Peter put him down gently, his tone changing into a motherly one. “You should always keep your pepper spray on you.”

“Shut up.”

Chuckling to himself, Peter prepared to go down the ladder, fully expecting his body to offer some resistance due to being too big.

And then he realized he was going down easily.

Peter stopped on his tracks, feeling his back and his arms brushing against the concrete, but barely so, which made no sense in his head. He was slim and a little short compared to others, but he wasn’t small anymore, not ever since he got his powers, and after being Spider-man for a while, he bulked up. So why was he going down so easily?

“You ok, dude? Why did you stop?” Tim called out for him.

Peter nodded mechanically, not fully listening to the questions because, for the first time, he truly looked at his arms. He was slimmer than he remembered- His arms were still toned and he could see his muscles, but he... He had been skipping some meals here and there, for sure, and even those that he didn't skip weren't his usual caloric intake, which most of the time he compensated with energy bars or nuts back home. Still, it had been one week, surely he couldn't lose enough weight in a week to make this easy, right?

It was a little disconcerting, to say the least.

“Hey, sorry, but do you have an apple or something back in the car?” Peter turned to Tim, who was frowning down at him. “I just realized that I'm hungry.”

“Jesus Christ, don't scare me like that!” Tim groaned, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I'll get us some dinner after this if you want.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Yeah, pinky promise, now get going. I would like to return home before the sun comes up.”

“Roger that.”

Pushing any concern to the back of his mind, Peter went down into the darkness, having Tim's flashlight shining down on him as his only light. Still, it was hardly a challenge to get to the bottom of the ladder, so he looked around to try to find where he should go now and found a small tunnel to his side that was overtaken by pipelines, lowering the ceiling considerably.
With how tight the space was in there, Peter struggled to kneel on the floor and ended up in a rather uncomfortable pose that twisted his back in a way he knew he would be feeling once he was out of there.

The air mostly smelled like dust and water, although the water seemed to be fresh somehow. Cooper had a huge presence in the small space due to the pipes; however, there was something extra in there that Peter wasn't sure what it was.

“How is it down there?” Tim called from above.

“Wait, don't come down yet!” Peter palmed around the pipelines, finding a small gap close to the floor. This was the part that would be a challenge, but he should be able to go through if he didn't breathe for a second. “How good are you at contorting?”

“What? Why?”

“There’s a lot of plumbing in the way. There's a gap, but is an uncomfortable fit.”

“How small?”

“The gap?” Peter palmed the edges a little more, but it was hard to tell the measurements for sure with how little light there was. “I think you can go through, but you need to twist a lot.”

“Can you go through?”

“Yes, is just kind of hard.”

“Do you think I can go down while you are there?”

That was not even up for debate. “No, it's too tight in here. I can go through the gap and let you know if we can fit on the other side?”

Tim mumbled to himself about how this was a bad idea, but Peter was already working on contorting his way through the pipes, doing his best not to flinch and gasp whenever his skin touched the cold metal, which happened whenever he moved. He pushed his camera to the front and slowly crawled behind it, breathing as little as possible so his chest wouldn't get stuck halfway.

Peter hissed and rubbed the top of his head when he stood up on the other side and hit a pipe with full force, probably denting it. He looked around despite the place being pitch black, none of the light from the ladder coming from the gap, and, really, he hadn't expected otherwise. Still, he was rather puzzled by how silent the room was – This was the type of place insects would call their home and would run in panic whenever someone walked into their shrine, and yet, there was no such thing here, just the sound of water going through the pipelines and moving away through the walls. Whoever sealed this place did a better job than expected, which was starting to be a repeating pattern with this little adventure.

Taking a deep breath, he palmed around in the dark and, when he was sure that the place was big enough to house both of them with some space to spare, Peter kneeled on the floor and screamed through the gap.

“Come down! We can fit on the other side of the gap, just mind your head when you get up.”

Listening to Tim curse his way down and his way through the gap was rather entertaining, especially because, against all warnings, Tim did get stuck twice while going through the gap and fought against all of Peter's attempts to help him go through so Peter simply stood in the dark listening to Tim complain why anyone would hide something under a fountain. It was a valid question, but still quite funny coming from the ‘I'm the expert’ guy.

Peter did not laugh when Tim hit the same pipe with his head.

Tim did laugh when he turned on the flashlight on his phone and it accidentally shone in Peter's eyes.

Still, the good mood soured soon enough when Tim moved the light around, illuminating the wall of copper pipes and the skeleton encrusted in it. It looked down on them from the ceiling, jaw wide open on a perpetual scream from where several pipes came through and disappeared into the walls; pipes stabbed through the ribcage, the bones permanently deformed and fractured so the copper lines could go through and into the floor, to the sides, and the ceiling. The arms and legs were twisted around the tubes in ways impossible for the human body, getting lost in the ocean of orange copper and the light's reflection.

If you looked at the details, right under the bones, where the light could hardly reach, the orange was dimmed and tinted into a redder shade, which told a rather macabre story: The body had been incorporated into the plumbing while it was still somewhat fresh.

“There are signs of struggle,” Tim whispered by his side, and while Peter wasn't sure what Tim was seeing, the mere idea was gut-wrenching.

The silence hung heavy over them for a moment that felt infinite, and then Peter remembered how to breathe.

“We need to report it,” He spoke far calmer than what he was feeling. It was just his luck that he ended up walking again into a murder scene without intending to. This time was just worse because he somehow dragged a civilian with him.

Despite all common sense, Peter lifted his camera and took a photo.

“What are you doing?” Tim sounded perturbed, yet it sounded a little forced in Peter’s ears. If Tim was shaken by this, it wasn't as much as he'd like Peter to think.

“It's going to be hard to describe,” Peter explained, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to show this to anyone. The idea was a little too sickening for his liking. Yet, there was this small desire at the back of his mind that wanted to know how exactly this happened and how someone even managed it in the first place.

“The police will take your camera away as evidence if you show them that,” Tim pointed out, his eyes returning to the skeleton on top of them, likely asking himself similar questions.

Peter turned to Tim.

“We are staying for the police?”

Tim blinked.

“Didn't you say we need to report it?”

“I meant hunting down Batman and telling him? Maybe one of his partners?” Peter inclined his head, trying to remember the little information he had about the heroes. “Maybe not Robin, actually.”

“What makes you think that Robin hasn't seen worse things?”

“Good point, I still don't want to show this to a minor-” “Aren’t you a minor?” “Anyway, I don't think the police are going to do anything about this. Will they even try to come down here?”

Tim scrunched his nose, ready to argue for a second, and then gave up. “No, probably not.”

Tim turned to the skeleton with his phone and very obviously took a photo, all pretense of being disturbed by the scene forgotten in favor of getting a good angle of the skeleton.

“I thought you told me not to take photos?”

“No, I told you that if you showed it to the police, they'll take your camera.” Tim took another photo. “I never say anything about taking photos.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Come on, let's get out of here, and then we can decide what to do.”

At least Tim didn't try to fight him on this, nodding and closing the camera on his phone to later offer the phone to Peter. “Light the way?”

“Sure.”

Getting out of the small room was as difficult as getting in, more for Peter now that he had the phone in one hand and the camera in the other, so he couldn't get a good grip; so most of his way out was filled with him losing his footing and hitting the tubes with his face.
When Peter finished climbing the ladder, he didn't stay by the fountain and instead started walking back to the car, dead set on getting his sweater back since it was even colder now. Tim followed quietly and unlocked the car when Peter reached the copilot door.

“So,” Peter started while putting his hoodie back on. “What are we doing?”

Tim sure had been considering it because the answer came immediately. “We report it. I know someone in the police, I'm sure he will hear me if I call him.”

“Nepotism, gotta love it. Do we have to stay?”

“I know this man, he's a friend of the family-”

Peter cut Tim off there. “Not to be pedantic, but with the money you have, any policeman is your friend.”

“Yeah, but this one actually does his job. He's not going to just throw us in jail for being in the wrong place,” Tim insisted.

And that's where Peter couldn't agree. “You mean he won't throw you in jail, me on the other hand?”

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“...I'm getting the vague idea that you might not trust the police.”

“Show me anyone that trusts them in this city, and I'll stay quie,t” Peter shot back, slightly irritated by the teen. No matter how loaded he was, he had to know how untrustworthy the police were. Especially because he was loaded.

And by the devilish smile Tim gave him back, it was more than clear that he knew. “Oh no, don't misunderstand. You're absolutely right, I'm just curious how you learned that so fast.” Peter didn’t take the bait and remained silent, getting an entertained scoff out of Tim. “Let me call him, and then we bail. We still have dinner pending.”

By the time he finished talking, Tim already had his phone to his ear and started walking away. Peter could hear the beeping coming from the phone, and when he heard the telltale click of a call being answered, he filtered out the sound.

He remained by the copilot door of the car, looking up at the night sky, deep in thought. No stars, no moon. The usual.

There really was a body.

Somehow, he had expected it, and yet, so far, it had been an inside joke with himself. Never an actual possibility. It wasn’t just a murder either, this was staged, put together like a scene in a play so it could be found by a child...

What a depressing sky.

“Ok, let's go,” Tim called out, lazily sprinting to the driver's door. “We have, like, fifteen minutes before someone decides to show up. Plenty of time”

They got in the car, and the first thing Peter did after getting inside was turn on the AC for Tim.

There was a punchline waiting to be told here because dinner apparently meant a literal 24/7 dinner in the middle of a neighborhood Peter was surprised Tim even knew existed. Despite the bright colors on the walls and tables, the place had quite the sober atmosphere, which was fine by Peter – He wasn't exactly in the mood to go to the club just to order some chicken wings.

A woman came to their booth and wordlessly left a pair of menus, exhaustion clear on her face when she nodded at them and left.

Peter looked at the options for a brief moment and then decided he would order the cheapest hamburger and pray it also came with fries. Not long after, the same woman came back, this time with a notebook in hand and a pen.

“Two double cheeseburgers with extra fries for me and my friend, please,” Tim casually ordered, taking the menu from Peter's hands and giving it to the woman. “Also, a soda for me. What do you want to drink?”

“I-” Peter hesitated for a moment, blinking at Tim's blatant disregard. “I was going to order something else.”

“Come on, trust me! You're going to love it.”

Peter took a deep breath.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t make decisions for me, but I'll go for the double cheeseburger and an apple soda.”

The woman nodded and reached for the second menu, yet Tim put a hand over it. “Please leave it.” And then the woman left. Tim kept a polite smile on his face long enough for the woman to enter the kitchen and then grimaced. “I'm sorry, I should have told you, but this place has a minimum goal you need to reach, or they spit in your food. I wasn't sure if you were going to order something expensive enough.”

Peter stared at Tim, waiting for the punchline, but the teen kept staring at him with a serious expression.

“You realize that's crazy, right?” Incredibly unsanitary too. How is it that no one has closed them yet?

“This place belongs to a local gang, so they keep bribing inspectors so they can have their meeting place where they like it.” And that little bit of information was even crazier.

“...Why do I sense you didn't hear that in a podcast?”

Tim choked out a laugh. “Is a known secret, really.”

By the way his heart skipped a beat, no, it wasn't.

“That’s kind of a weird hobby if you ask me,” Peter teased, slightly puzzled by the current situation.

“Good thing we aren't asking the guy who thought following some random-ass addresses was a good idea,” Tim argued back. “Where did you even find them?”

“They were in an envelope glued to the bottom of a bookcase.”

Tim paused. “You’re kidding.” When Peter didn’t say anything, his expression twisted. “You're going to end up dead if you do shit like that! What were you thinking?”

“I was hoping it was nothing,” Peter confessed, trying to think of the best way to explain his line of thought. “But, so far Gotham doesn't seem to pull its punches, so I had the feeling it needed to be checked out.”

“Seriously? A feeling?” Tim shook his head exasperated. “Did it ever cross your mind that you could actually find something?”

“Yeah?” Peter answered back equally irritated, stunning Tim into silence. “I knew I was going to find either a body, some guns, or something else. That's exactly why I'm here; no one else was going to check it out.”

They remained in silence for a moment, Peter simply listening to the sound of the other clients eating and talking among themselves.

“You could have told Batman.”

Peter hummed, his mind not fully in the conversation anymore. “This happened forty years ago, or maybe longer than that. I wouldn't expect any of them to treat it as a priority, mostly because it's not. But if there was really someone in any of these places, then I wanted to find them.”

“Why?”

Because it was the right thing to do, would be Peter's first answer, and he thought it was a rather valid one. However, this somehow felt... personal, in a way that he wasn't sure how to put into words.

He shrugged. “If they are lost, wouldn't it be good to find them?”

Tim opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it when the woman came back with their meals. She quietly left the plates on the table along with their drinks and walked away, leaving them in silence.
Peter waited for the teen to continue the conversation; yet, now that they had been interrupted, Tim seemed to be deep in thought... Or maybe the sleepiness was hitting him again – They should probably head back after finishing here, it was late, and it would be bad if Tim fell asleep in front of the wheel.

“If you excuse me,” Peter took his plate and slipped under the table, making sure to end up facing the wall while he lifted his mask.

He started counting in his head, taking a bite of his hamburger and waiting for the usual question. He barely reached two when he heard Tim moving on his seat and trying his best to lean on his seat to try to see under the table.

“Spider-man? You good, man?”

“I'm shy about eating.” The lie came easily while taking another bite. “Give me fifteen and I'll come back up.”

“I take this is the usual for you?”

“When there's a table and a wall,” Peter took three fries and devoured them before talking. “You gotta be a little more creative when none of those are present.”

“Would you prefer we get things to go?”

Peter tilted his head.

He lowered his mask and turned, finding Tim comfortably lying down on the couch of the booth. There were a few fries in his hands.

“You know? Most people aren't so casual about the way I eat.”

Tim shrugged, eating another fry before answering. “Have you ever lived alone with another four teenagers with next to no adult supervision? This isn't even close to the weirdest thing I've done with my friends.”

Whatever Peter was expecting, it wasn't remotely close to that answer. He snorted.

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster. I'm guessing you weren't the one who knew how to use the washing machine.”

“Hey!” Came the way too fast complaint, and by the way Tim didn't follow with anything else, he knew it.

“Is ok man, I can teach you if you still don't know how”

“Shut up,” The teen scoffed with clear delight. Tim sat straight for a moment, the sound of fries crunching filling the air for a second, so Peter used that short break to take another bite of his hamburger and turned his head a little further to the side when he heard Tim lying back down on the sofa. “How do you think they did it?”

“The hamburger?”

“You know what I mean” Tim countered back, nonchalant as if they were discussing whether the hamburgers were good or not. Still, it was easy to guess what he meant.

Peter hummed. He actually had tried not to think too much about it, mostly because the idea of a kid finding that made his stomach flip, even more knowing that the body had been quite fresh when the scene was set up. And all those pipes...

“On-site, probably.”

“It was way too clean for that, don't you think?”

That was a good point. Peter chewed on a fry for a second to give himself time to think about it and, as cheesy as it sounded, “It was very, uh, theatrical, don't you think? Maybe blood was not part of the scene. There was some on the pipes-” “Was there?” “Yeah. At the edges, where it was probably hard to clean. There's probably more between the pipes, where they couldn't reach”

“So, on site?” Peter hummed in agreement, nodding along while he took another bite. “There were signs of a struggle... But how did they get them down there?”

“Maybe they took it apart before doing the deed?” Peter offered, and he wasn't exactly sure, but it sounded like either Tim was nodding along to a song or he was shaking his head.

“Too slow. It would have taken days to take down everything and rearrange it around the body” A fry crunched and Tim continued with his mouth half-full. “If they went all the way to hide clues, then they didn't want to risk someone noticing before it was ready.”

“Guess that's true, it would also be too difficult to go down for almost anyone.” Another bite of his hamburger. “Do you know if anyone has done repairs to the park? You could get away with breaking the floor and then closing it if you say that something broke.”

“That's one option,” Tim conceded before sitting and taking another bite of his food, and then coming back down. “Maybe during one of the renovations to the streets?”

Peter shook his head. “If we go by the maps, that park hasn't been touched by the renovations in the last forty years. Repairs directly to the fountain would make more sense”

“Yeah, but the maps could lie.”

“If you go on that tangent, you are never sleeping again,” Peter teased, already imagining Tim's manic stare on him. “Let's focus on what we know.”

Tim scoffed. “We know jack shit”

“We know a few things”

“Like?”

What was that thing that podcast MJ liked used to say? “If our budy is already all bones, then that gives a minimum of ten years since it happened”

“Five. Bodies left in the open get eaten in less than a decade.” It was quite unnerving how Tim recited the information like he was reading it from a gossip magazine.

“Lovely fun fact, but there were zero insects in that place”

“No,” Tim reached out and pushed him by the shoulder. “there's no way you know that”

“Oh, believe me, I was disappointed I couldn't get a snack” Peter smirked even when he knew that Tim couldn't see it. Still, he hoped the teen could hear it in his voice. “There was no sound when I managed to get inside. Whoever sealed the entrance did a perfect job with it.”

“And given how it looked, our lunatic had a penchant for drama. It was meant to be found.”

“And it was meant to be perfect. It was clean-” “Each piece deliberate. It had meaning to the person who did it. They took their time to do it-” “They also thought of a lot of the details like who could find it and where-” “Which would mean that they were either really discreet or had the means to silence everyone involved.” “How are we feeling about an accomplice?”

Tim paused, and even when Peter wasn't looking his way, the sound he made made it clear that he wasn't that convinced by the idea. “A body of someone of that height would be heavy and difficult to pose, but you could do it if you used tools.”

“Talking by experience?” Peter teased. He got a soft slap on the back of the head. “Careful, you're showing your killer instincts.”

“None of this is really telling us how they did it,” Tim complained.

Peter risked a quick glance at Tim, finding him completely lying down on the couch with his eyes closed- Ah, wait, that was quite dangerous. If Tim fell asleep here, there was no way Peter was making it back home before the sun was up... Although, if that happened, he could just take a nap on the other couch. It would easily beat sleeping on a roof.

“No,” he conceded while taking the last bite of his hamburger. It didn't taste that good when cold. “But it's telling me something.”

“Yeah? And what's that?”

“If they needed time to set up and not look suspicious, but they didn't do it when the streets were changed, and if there were no repairs done in all these years, when would be the best time to do it?”

Tim's eyes opened in a heartbeat.

“When they built it.”

Tim instantly sat down, the sound of his cellphone's keyboard desperately resounding at the top of the table. With the conversation done, Peter finally ventured to reach for his glass of soda and left it half empty in a second.
With his body quite numb because of the pose in which he had sat down, Peter did his best to slide back onto the couch without hitting the top of his head with the table. Just as he expected, Tim was looking at his phone and seemed to be reading.

It felt nice.

Sitting in a restaurant with his stomach full, warm, and feeling the exhaustion of the day slowly creeping in with its calm lullaby. The place was comfortable, with little to no people but the little there were had quiet conversations that merged well with the smell of omelets and bread.
The couch wasn't soft by any means, it felt like sitting on a piece of wood with some shiny cover, and yet, it was just right with the mood.

It made him want to stay, even if just a little longer.

That's how he knew they needed to go.

“Tim,” The teen looked up from his phone, his eyes half-lidded with sleep. “Not like I want to dine and dash, but we should go.”

“I-” Tim blinked a few times. The disoriented stare he gave Peter inspired no confidence, and Peter sincerely considered talking to the staff to see if they would let them sleep the rest of the night there. Might just skip that step and just tell the teen to lie back down.

“I know how to drive, you know?” Peter commented. “I can drive you home and just walk the rest of the way.”

Well, to say that he knew was a little generous. More than one person had tried teaching him how to do so behind his aunt’s back, but those lessons were far in between and never left the nearest mall parking lot. He gave Ned quite a scare the last time he offered his mom’s car.
Still, it was late already, there were bound to be fewer people on the streets, right? One mistake here and there wouldn't matter if there were no one he could hit.

Tim didn't see it like that.

“I'm not telling you where I live,” he said flatly, pocketing his phone. “Also, we made a deal. I take a nap, and we check things out.”

“And we did? We just came from the park, didn't we?” Peter defended, fully aware that he wasn't going to win this argument. He did give his word, but, in his defense, he had hopes that nothing out of the ordinary would happen.

“We still have one place to go,” Tim crossed his arms.

Peter let out a long sigh.

“Aren't you tired?”

“The night is just starting-” Tim said with a cocky grin on his face, however, it faded in a second. He blinked, and his eyes went wide in some sort of epiphany. “Are you tired?”

“I can keep going,” Peter assured him, and it wasn't a lie; he was just not answering the question directly. “I'm just starting to question why you don't want to go home.”

“You're such a killjoy,” The teen groaned, talking as if he had already explained this to Peter several times. Peter did not gasp offended. “The place has been under construction for years, probably no one even cares if we get inside, take a little peek, and then get out. It's going to be just like with the fountain.”

“I hope you realize that you're sounding like a man pitching the last heist to their team, fully knowing they're all getting screwed up.” Tim did gasp offended by the comment. “But ok, this wouldn’t be fun if I didn't play my part, so let's go do one last job”

Notes:

Sorry if you bet there was a dead person under the fountain and got it right, I'm predictable like that :)
I did NOT forget about updating the fic on Monday, I didn't have access to a computer for a bit and then got busy with work, but you can have it now. I sincerely hope you like it because it's midnight and I did my best doing the final edit.

Also, it is 36° Celsius for anyone in USA. I know you use Fahrenheit, but I do not respect your units.

Chapter 17

The mood changed for the better after the end of their conversation, so much so that Tim insisted on paying for dessert. A preemptive celebration of a heist well done, which Peter was sure was going to jinx the rest of the night, but he would absolutely allow Tim to buy his silence with cheesecake.

Going to the next spot took a little over twenty minutes without traffic, but Peter could see the skeleton of the building streets before they arrived. The structure seemed like quite the ambitious project, rising to the sky with four floors already with gray walls and a few others sketched out with metal beams; still, Tim had mentioned that no one had been working on it for quite a while, so those floors were probably never going to be finished.

There was a wall at the front of the construction, limiting access to any passerby, yet that wasn't a problem. The two security cameras on both corners of the wall were another matter.

“Shit,” Tim kept driving, passing by and turning to the left after passing two other streets. He parked under a tree and groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “Fuck”

So much for their perfect heist.

Seriously, the joke wrote itself, and Peter wasn’t sure if this was part of Parker’s luck or if this was god’s way to punish Tim’s hubris.

Still, he liked Tim enough to try not to make things harder. At least not right now.

Time for some brainstorming.

“How often do you think they replace those cameras?”

Tim kept rubbing at his eyes for a long while, but eventually, he turned to Peter with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“You can't tell me those aren't getting stolen every other day, they look too good for that.”

“I don't think stealing the cameras is the way to go here,” Tim lay his forehead on the steering wheel, deflating on his seat.

“Don’t tell me you are afraid of some cameras?” Peter teased him, and his grin grew when Tim glared at him. “What about our last job?”

“You're not the one who has to keep an office job.” How adorable, Tim was pouting.

“That didn’t stop you from going down at the fountain.”

“As far as I remember, there were no cameras at the fountain.”

The funny thing about watching Tim pout and whine in his seat is that he wasn’t fooling Peter, and Peter is not sure if the teen is even trying to do so. Even if it sounded like he was giving up on the idea of invading private property, it was obvious by the growing shine in his eyes and the solidifying determination in his body that he wasn’t done there. Tim wasn’t going anywhere, and if he left for any reason, he would most probably be back in a few hours with whatever he thought was enough to jump over the fence. Maybe get arrested in the process.

Tim had money; it probably wouldn’t stay like that for long, but the idea still brought a smile to Peter’s face. If Tim was anything like Tony when he was bored, then the police would let him go before he could even think of paying any fine.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

Tim peered at Peter from his place on the steering wheel. “No?”

“Perfect! Meet me outside whenever you're ready.”

To the teen’s confusion, Peter opened his door and got out without saying anything else. He shivered slightly with the cold breeze but still smiled when the car’s engine died down and the driver’s door opened.

“What are we doing?” Tim called out to him, going around the front of the car in record time.

“I’m going to finish this heist, and you are invited.”

Peter waved at Tim to get closer, and together they walked to the nearest wall, which seemed to belong to a small office building. Tim gasped by his side when Peter started climbing the wall with nothing but the tip of his fingers and the power of fucked-up science on his side.

“I thought you knew I could do this?” Peter let go with one hand so he could comfortably turn to Tim, who seemed stuck between being impressed or weirded out.

“Yeah, but it's different to see it- Forget that! You could get in trouble if someone spots us.”

“I’m risking more by staying here arguing with you.”

Tim didn’t move for his place, opening and closing his hands as if he was weighing his options – Was he actually scared of getting in trouble? That didn’t track with what Peter knew of the teen; however, he wasn’t going to force Tim to do something he didn’t want to do, even less when Peter was technically about to do something very much illegal. He was about to offer Tim to stay in the car, but-

“What if Batman sees you?”

Ah.

Ah?

“If Batman sees me?”

“He's going to be a pain in the ass.”

So there was something the teen was afraid of... Or well, more like inconvenienced by.

“What is he going to do? Arrest me? I don't exist in the system, so maybe you should stop talking with ghosts,” Peter offered him a hand. “You coming?”

Tim stared at his hand for a moment, hesitating for the first time all night, but the part of his mind that didn’t care must have won because soon enough the teen stared at Peter with a cocky grin and took his hand.
Peter pulled Tim from the floor, but the teen did the rest of the job, effortlessly climbing and clinging to Peter’s back as if they had been doing this for years. Guess this was something else he was used to already.

“Alright little monkey, we are going up!”

“God, don't call me that.”

“Don't climb me like a tree, and we'll see,” Peter teased him and started his way to the roof, stopping only for a moment after Tim kicked his side with enough force to make him huff. “Do that again and I'll leave you stranded on the highest roof I can find.”

“Do it.” Tim challenged him in a heartbeat. “I'll be down in less than an hour.”

“Ohhh, bold words from the office worker.”

“The office worker knows how to kill.” Damn, that was a lot of confidence behind those words.

“With a stapler, maybe,” Peter teased him anyway. “But we aren't in an office.”

Tim laughed at the provocation and Peter laughed in return. They continued the conversation while crossing the rooftops, Tim still clinging to Peter's back and Peter giving him enough support with his arms so the teen wouldn't fall whenever Peter jumped over the gaps that separated the buildings. Tim was either incredibly sleep deprived or he was just fearless because at no point did Peter hear his heart skip a beat or quicken; it actually made Peter a little jealous thinking of the first time he used his webs to move across the city.

That had been an eventful day.

They reached the right spot fast, and they took a moment to peek down, just long enough to be sure that no one was down there waiting for them. Peter carefully crawled down the side of the building with Tim still rambling about an Edgar from work who kept trying to steal his pens. Once on the floor, Tim shut up long enough to get down from Peter’s back and looked around.

“Looks a little emptier than I imagined.”

“You said the whole project has been on hiatus for a while, I don't think that's a surprise.”

Tim hummed in agreement and then pointed with his arm. “I'm guessing that's why.”

Peter followed Tim’s arm and blinked. To their left was a massive sinkhole that seemed to be doing its best to devour one of the foundations of the building, which would explain why the whole structure looked to be slightly tilted. How did Peter miss that when they were on the roof? He wasn't sure, but it sure as hell looked like a good reason to stop the construction.

Both walked closer and stared down into the black void that was the hole for half a minute before each of them took a photo.

“Descend and walk into the tunnel,” Tim recited and then turned to Peter. “Spiders first?”

“Yeah, once I’m down, you can jump and I’ll catch you.”

Tim squinted. “I’m not sure if you’re being serious or not.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” And without even gauging the distance, Peter jumped inside.

Somewhere in the middle of that fall, Peter processed what he had done, and the only thing stopping him from screaming in regret was the fact that the fall ended shortly after he became aware. In utter disbelief, he looked up and stared at Tim peeking through the hole, squinting from his place in hopes of seeing Peter in the darkness.

“Did you break your legs?” Tim screamed down.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” No need for the teen to know how scared Peter had been for a second. Tim still couldn't see him, but he seemed to relax when he heard Peter answer back. “Jump! I'll catch you!”

“I don't know, man. I don't think I trust you enough for that.”

“You trust me enough to jump with you in my back, but not to catch you?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Peter let out a laugh. Tim- Tim just had the weirdest priorities.

“Come on! Is not even that high!” He tried, but Tim simply hummed with indecision. As impressive as it was, it seemed like Peter had finally found Tim’s limit.

In all honesty, this was the best outcome if they took into account that, as a hero, Peter shouldn't be encouraging anyone to risk their life for a little bit of curiosity... It was still a little bit sad that he would end up exploring the rest alone.

“Alright then,” Peter looked around, but all he could see was the void, so he would have to make due with his senses. “Stay out of sight. I'll go get a look and come back in a bit.”

“Wait! I'm trying to remember if I have something I can use back at the car.”

Peter stuttered for a moment and asked, “What the hell are you going to have in your car?”

“I do rappel on Mondays!” Came the irritated comeback.

“Rappel-? Dude, just jump!”

“No!”

“The car is like three streets away, and there are cameras. Just jump!”

“No, I-!” Tim groaned, and from where Peter was standing, he looked a little desperate to come up with a good reason to say no. It took him half a second of grumbling to himself to confess. “I got stitches! I don’t want to break them, ok?”

“You got stitches, and you are running around with me? Weren't you immunocompromised?”

“Look who's talking. You told me you had stitches too!”

“I-!” And Peter stopped because, did he?

Thinking about it, yes, he did mention his stitches, but it had been a joke, and they weren't even that important since his injuries had healed enough to not need them anymore. As far as he was aware, they were bad bruises that would be gone with a good nap and good food. They would have probably been gone by now if it weren't for the fact that he broke them last night, but it had been for a good reason, so it didn't count in his book.

“I was joking with the stitches! Do you prefer to climb on my back? I can crawl down the same way I did with the building.”

“...Are you going to call me monkey again?”

Peter snorted.

“I wasn't going to, but I might now.”

The only warning Peter had was the sound of Tim's shoes scraping against the dirt and the sound of the air moving out of the way. The angle was a little askew, and Peter did have to take a big step to his left, but he was able to easily catch Tim on time, being as careful as he could with his torso.

“Glad to see you decided to join the fun.” Gently, he helped Tim stand up. “You’re the one with the light.”

“You almost make me feel special,” Tim rolled his eyes, but at least took out his phone and turned on the flashlight. “Let's go before someone sees us.”

Tim's phone was just barely able to break through the dark of the tunnel, which seemed to extend far beyond the confines of the area where the construction was. Despite the dirt stuck between the crevices and the lack of illumination, it was clear that a lot of care had gone into making the tunnel; there were white tiles on the floor, cracked by time and probably some fallen rocks, and the stone walls were smoothed out, leaving a few dents here and there.
It wasn't clear at first, but after walking for five minutes, the floor started descending and twisting into a spiral, bringing them deeper into the earth. At some point, Peter started wondering how this tunnel fit with the city's sewers and drainage system, being as long and wide as it was.

The tunnel ended abruptly, reaching a plain stone wall with nothing that could make it special except for the fact that, in front of it, was a metal ladder that disappeared into a hole on the floor.

With the poor lighting, it looked quite ominous.

Peter took a photo.

“How much paper do you even have left?” Tim leaned, staring at the camera while it softly buzzed on Peter's hands and slowly printed its best rendition of the ladder. It wasn't good.

“The secret is that I don't know,” Peter shrugged while staring at his new photo and thinking if he should ask Tim to angle the light a little to the left so he could take a second one. “I just take them and wait to see if they print.”

He turned to Tim to ask, but stayed quiet. Tim was making a face while staring at his camera again. “Seriously, I can get you something better.”

“I'm not having this conversation again.”

A scoff. “That's what you think.”

Peter rolled his eyes, far too excited for their little excursion to get irritated with the teen. “So! Ready to go down the creepy ladder?”

“Ready as I'll ever be.” Tim took a deep breath and brushed his hair with one hand, a little too tense for the easygoing vibe they had going. “What do you think is down there?”

The memory of the fountain resurfaced, still fresh in their minds.

“Hopefully, not another reason to call the police.”

Tim let out a dry chuckle and kept the light of his phone trained over the ladder. Right, spiders first.

Taking a deep breath, Peter walked to the ladder and stared down the hole. He wasn't expecting to truly see anything, but there was no harm in checking if his senses were able to pick anything up.

Peter took a pebble from the floor and pushed it down the hole, closing his eyes to focus on the sound. The pebble resonated quietly downstairs, the sound bouncing throughout a big space until the sound faded. Hollow. There was a huge cavity under their feet, maybe another room, but emptier than the one below the fountain.
Between the silence, Peter could pick up a gentle buzz. Electricity, somewhere below.  Still, it was difficult to tell if it was coming from the cavity below or if it was part of the city's electrical grid.

And that was all he could guess. Maybe if he remained there, he could get some more clues, but the important part was that it sounded like there wasn't any surprise waiting for them downstairs, so Peter took a deep breath and started descending the ladder.

Standing in the dark was somehow more unnerving this time around, and he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves until the room got illuminated by Tim, who was going down the ladder with his phone in his mouth.

“You know-”

“I don't want to hear it.” Tim stopped him once his feet touched the ground and was able to take the phone with his hands. He looked around, illuminating the place.

“Alright, alright, I'll keep the wisdom to myself.” Peter followed the light with his eyes, rapidly getting an idea of the shape of the room. “This place is huge.”

“It looks like a chapel.”

That... Was close to how Peter would describe the place. The tall walls curved at the top, merging into a carved ceiling, which, despite the dim light, showed figures of heaven and people looking down at them. Their eyes seemed disproportionately big due to the shadows.
On both sides of the room were three rows of stone benches, leaving the center free to walk. The white tiles were gone, replaced by jet black stones that shone in hues of purples and blues whenever Tim pointed the light at them.

Peter followed Tim through the room, examining the smooth walls with clefts that seemed designed to hold something inside them but were empty now. In Peter’s mind, they looked like the altars in a church, and, by the mechanical switches on the bottom of them, it looked like they were waiting to be filled up.
With way too much confidence, Tim softly passed a finger over the mechanism in one of the clefts, frowning perplexed as to what would go in there. If Peter had to guess, the answer would be in one or more of the clues they skipped to get there; they even had to skip finding the actual door to the tunnel in favor of jumping down a hole. There was a big chance that the entrance would have been a lot harder if they had followed the rules left behind by the person who set the stage for them.

The room was big, however, it didn't look like time had passed in here. There was dust, but nothing else, no dirt or rock out of place, no cracks on the ceiling or the walls, nor signs that anyone had been down there before them. That's why they stared with suspicion when they reached the back of the room and found a singular podium made out of black stone. One book on top of it.

Who was this room supposedly created for? The police?

All of this was incredibly intricate and way too complex to simply leave the only clue to find it glued to the bottom of a bookcase.

Breaking the silence, Peter took a photo.

“I can't tell if this place is supposed to be fancy or a mausoleum.” Peter stared at the three big windows behind the podium. With the pale light from Tim’s phone, the red-stained glass looked like a wall made up of meat.

“Don't touch anything,” Tim warned him. “Something isn't right in here.”

“We are in an underground chapel. I would say there's more than one thing wrong here.”

“No, something isn't adding up,” Tim insisted, going around the podium as if searching for something. “How did you describe the last place?”

“Theatrical?”

“That. Would you say the same of this one?”

“We are missing an overly decorated corpse,” Peter conceded, “but that was the second clue. Maybe they ran out of ideas halfway.”

“Or we aren't seeing what we are supposed to see.”

Both stared back at the book on the podium.

“That's a trap, if I ever saw one,” Peter pointed at it.

“I couldn't find any wires around or a button.”

Wires. Peter gasped and got closer, almost putting his ear against the book.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh, I'm trying to listen.”

The gentle buzz of electricity passing was still present in the room; however, standing beside the podium for a few seconds revealed that it wasn't coming from there but somewhere below. Peter turned around and kneeled on the floor, staring at the smooth black floor and, after a brief moment, pointed at the exact point from where the sound was coming.

“I can hear electricity passing through here.” His finger pointed at the route the sound was following, slowly raising his arms to the stained glass on the wall. “It continues behind those, but I’m not sure if it stops there.”

“I feel like I should be surprised that you can hear something like that,” Tim spoke by his side, but Peter wasn't fully listening.

He could hear something else too, but only on the window to the left. The most gentle breeze was blowing behind the glass, and if he forced his eyes, he could notice the faintest traces of a line. It kind of looked like a door.

“That one has an exist”

Tim blinked in surprise and immediately moved for the stained glass, softly probing with his fingers until he found the same lines Peter had seen. He pushed a little bit harder, yet the glass didn't budge.

“I don't think I can open it right now.” He took a few steps back, still staring at the glass like doing so would give him the answer. “I also don't want to force it in case it triggers something in here.”

That was a funny though, funny here meaning straight up terrifying.

“Maybe if you push it hard enough, the room will start filling with water.”

Tim turned around, a cocky smirk on his face. “You joke, but that might as well happen.”

“If it does, it would be a blessing. I'm pretty sure I need a bath.”

“You don’t smell that bad,” Saying it with that smirk. This guy was messing with him. “Anyway, what should we do with the book?”

“I don't know,” Peter got up from the floor and turned back to the podium. “Probably not touch it?”

Tim nodded in complete agreement. “It would be best to leave and come back with tools.”

“Or someone who knows what they are doing”, Peter pointed out, to Tim's dissatisfaction. As interesting as the whole room was, it was glaringly clear they were missing a good chunk of context here, so doing more than just sightseeing imposed a real danger.

“Then I guess that's it, then.” Tim let out a long yawn. “If we leave now, I might still get three hours of sleep before work.”

Peter stared at him in disbelief. “Are you really going to work today?”

The teen grimaced, but still gave a weak smile to Peter. “I wouldn't worry, I'll show some face and then say I got sick or something. We got nothing important going on anyway.”

“Sounds good. Let's head back,” Peter excitedly agreed. He waited for Tim to move, but the teen didn't, staring at Peter like he was waiting for him to walk away first, and so they stared at each other for a while until both of them looked down at the book and looked up at each other again with a silent confession happening in a second.

Peter let out a long sigh. “I'm so disappointed in us right now.”

Tim laughed wholeheartedly.

“It might be the madness finally setting in after a few days of not sleeping, but I kinda want to open it anyway.”

So disappointed.

“You said there wasn't a wire, right?” Abandoning his common sense, Peter walked around the podium just like Tim had done before, double-checking for any wires or buttons.

“Yes, but you don't need electricity to set off a trap.” Tim put a hand on his shoulder, stopping Peter from walking around the podium for a third time like a dog smelling for someone else's scent. “It could be mechanical.”

“I guess that's true, and it is a bad idea.”

“Yeah,” Tim conceded.

“Nice to know we are on the same page. Are you still going to do it?”

“Are you trying to stop me or are you encouraging me?” Tim chuckled delighted. “I'm getting mixed signals from you.”

Peter shrugged. “At this point, I'm not even sure myself. I'm kind of just expecting something to go wrong.”

And despite it all, he was still standing there, seriously contemplating whether they could afford to be stupid several feet underground. A book shouldn't be this alluring, but maybe Tim was right and the sleep deprivation was starting to settle in – At least for Tim. Peter needed at least another five minutes to think of a good excuse for himself.

“That's good,” Tim nodded. “It would be downright stupid if we touch it.”

“Absolutely,” Peter nodded back.

...

“Do you do it? Or do I do it?”

Peter raised his hand. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Losing the round felt like an omen, a warning from the world to let Peter know that he wouldn’t end unscathed, but he still allowed Tim to put his hand over the book, staring at it with a mix of dread, doubt, and excitement.

“How fast are you?” Tim asked breathlessly from the anticipation.

“I'm not sure about fast, but I have quick reflexes.”

Tim nodded. “Ok, you're strong. If something happens, do you think you can force that door open?”

Peter gave him a thumbs-up. “That's the plan, yes.”

“Ok then,” Tim nodded once more and changed his stance, ready to run if needed. “To the count of three. One. Two. Three!”

In the same breath, Tim pulled the cover of the book open, revealing that the book was hollow with one metal hook that became free the moment the cover finished opening, being pulled back into a hole inside the podium.
Peter heard a switch being activated somewhere, so he hurried to reach out for Tim. A second switch activated, and he was blinded by a light turning on behind them.

He blinked.

Ding!

And the world became bathed in red.

His mind went blank at the sight of long shadows running away to hide in fear from the light, rushing to get behind any and all possible things they could use as a shield so they wouldn't have to endure losing themselves in the new color.

Peter looked down at his hands, confused as to why his gloves were the wrong shade of red. Too vibrant. Too shiny.

And in the confusion, the ghost of a sound gasped beside his ear, breathing hitched and weak while it failed to speak. And then it spoke up.

That- that wasn't Tim.

He looked around, his mind racing and trying to explain why he could hear her breathing, her request for a moment to compose herself. She wasn't here, she couldn’t be. But he looked down at his hands, and they came back red.

This wasn't right. This wasn’t how it happened. There wasn't so much red before, she wasn't-

Peter gasped for air, feeling none of it coming into his lungs.

He desperately searched with his eyes, but he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do. It was important. It was important. What was it?

Searching for a break from the overload of stimuli, Peter turned around and found light shining through the stained glass, bathing him in their color and invading every crack of Peter's existence, shaking him to the core. At the center of it all, behind the middle window, stood the figure of someone long gone, their bones held in a taunting sight that mocked him with their downcast head.

Ding!

The ceiling above him trembled with such force that Peter could feel the reverberation echo throughout his bones, leaving him breathless while his mind was stuck in the red, red, red. RED. The figure staring down at him trembled, as if it couldn't stop laughing, but Peter couldn’t hear its voice.

Something clutched his arm, and Peter's head snapped in its direction.

Tim was screaming, his expression fierce as he tried to frantically shake him, but Peter couldn’t hear him above the sound of labored breathing.

He blinked.

No. That wasn’t breathing.

Peter gave a quick glance to the room and finally noticed the growing cracks on the ceiling and the falling debris around them. The ceiling was caving in with them inside.

Ah.

Tim was in his arms in a heartbeat, and Peter sprinted to the third window, crashing against it with full force. There was just no time to force it open anymore – He protected Tim with his body, taking all the impact and hoping that the teen had his eyes closed when they went through.
On the other side of the glass was an elongated tunnel that was too thin to have them running side by side, but that was alright, because Peter wasn’t planning on letting go of Tim.

He could hear it now, how the roof and the walls complained from the weight, creaking in a deafening cacophony that promised to bury them alive. He kept running into the void, evading the falling rocks as best as he could in the limited space, ignoring the pain of those that managed to land a hit on him.

And then the ceiling finished collapsing behind them, and the shockwave was aggressive enough to send debris flying in all directions, hitting Peter directly on the back of his head. The force of it sent him face first against the floor, rolling on the ground with Tim still in his arms; he wasn't going to let go but his elbow impacted against something solid, sending a sharp stab of pain up his arm – Peter might have screamed, he wasn’t entirely sure, however, he was devastatingly aware of his hold loosening and feeling the teen rolling out of his arms way too fast.

The creaking all around them continued for another second, pebbles hitting his side without mercy until all that remained moving were clouds of dust that clogged Peter's lungs and sent him on a quick coughing fit.

“Tim” He tried to call out, but sounded more like a weird groan in the middle of the coughing fit. “Tim”

It was hard to focus with the growing headache and his sore body complaining every time he moved, still, listening to Tim's heartbeat was barely keeping him from panicking. If he had been alone, he might have allowed himself to lose it for a moment, yet a civilian was probably hurt, and Spider-man needed to stop being a baby and move his ass so he could go check on Tim. So Peter bit his tongue and forced himself to get up.

Following the sound of the heartbeat, he slowly wobbled through the dark, a little dizzy from the sensation of the floor wobbling under his feet.

He kneeled and palmed around trying to find the teen on the floor. When he found him, he tried to shake him gently. “Tim? Are you alright? Does anything hurt?”

The heartbeat continued softly, but Tim didn't answer back.

Fuck.

No need to panic, Peter knew what to do in this case, Bruce had told him- Or maybe May told him- No, scratch that, he definitely heard it at school- If only he could remember what he was supposed to do but all that came back to him was how much his head was trying to kill him right at that moment.

Ok, so he was going blind in more than one aspect then. That was alright, he had done so before, and things ended more or less ok, he got this.

“It's alright. I know what to do.” He did not, but that's why Steve told him the golden rule. “When in doubt, hospital.”

There was probably more to that rule; it sounded strangely empty, like it wasn't the complete phrase, but it made enough sense in his head. He couldn't see, so the only thing he could do was to make sure someone checked Tim. Yeah, that made sense.

With as much gentleness as he could muster, he took the teen and put him on his back. Was this the best way to carry him? Peter had no idea, but onwards he went, walking into the dark in hopes of finding an exit.
He knew that he was no longer in the tunnel after a while of walking since he could hear the way the space around him opened. It didn't open a whole lot, but enough to know that this was probably not planned by the person who made the chapel.

Peter shivered.

He had forgotten about that room.

Tim was going to kill him once he woke up.

Peter promised to get them out of there in time if things went south, and what did he do? Freeze because- He wasn’t sure why, actually. The red- The light made him think of May, but that was ridiculous! It made no sense to him, and yet, the facts spoke for themselves.

He didn't want to think about it. It was kind of making his headache worse.

So what else could he do? Not thinking, but what else? He was rather tired, but that was probably because of how late it was. Maybe now he could go home- Ah. Tim was going to be angry with him; he was probably not driving him home now, so Peter would have to find a bench.

“That's going to suck,” he immediately groaned.

The sound of his voice stabbed at the side of his temple, so talking was also out of the list of things he could do at the moment.

Walking didn't feel too bad, so he mindlessly continued through the dark.

Time passed slowly in the dark, and Peter wasn't sure if it was because he was exhausted, but there was something extremely comforting about it, about the silence just as thick as the darkness, with the only sound coming from their breathing and the echoes of his steps.

That's why Peter was a little startled when Tim’s breathing changed.

He stopped on his tracks, giving Tim the opportunity to ask to be let down; however, the teen didn't speak, remaining very still. Peter waited a little longer for him, and when Tim remained silent, he let out a sigh and kept on walking.
So Tim was angry with him, which... Well, it made total sense. Peter had messed up when he was supposed to protect both of them; he just wished that the teen would say something, anything, instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

Peter continued walking for what felt like half an hour, the fog in his mind finally lifting enough to process that walking aimlessly through the dark was probably not the best idea, so he slowly started chasing the sound of the wind, no matter how weak it was.

“Where are we?”

“Oh,” Peter stopped himself. “I thought you weren't talking to me.”

“You knew I was awake.” It wasn't a question. It still sounded full of curiosity.

“Your breathing stopped being idle,” Peter pointed out, changing directions at the sound of a small breeze and started walking again.

“...Are you alright? You sound strange.”

Strange? In what sense? “Sorry I got distracted at the chapel.”

Tim struggled in his back and then let out an irritated groan. “Spider-man, put me down.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.”

Peter loosened his grip on Tim's legs, and the teen stumbled off his back. Light immediately shone, surprising Peter while Tim stepped into his field of view, phone in his hand... Peter had forgotten about the phone. He could have been using it to move around all this time, although it looked like the screen was cracked.

“It cracked,” Peter tried to reach for the phone, but Tim smacked his hand away.

“How are you feeling?” Tim stared at him with a grave expression on his face. “Does your head hurt?”

And then he tried to reach for Peter’s mask.

Peter chuckled at the irony of him smacking Tim’s hands away. “No touching.”

“Spider-man,” Tim scolded him, frown deepening a tiny bit, but at least he didn't reach out again. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Which was true. He could go for a nap right about now. “We can go home after this, right?”

Tim bit his lower lip. He didn't look as angry as Peter thought he would be, more pensive and frustrated than anything else. Maybe Tim would be open to driving him home once Peter got them out of there.

The teen walked around Peter again, and his breath hitched.

“That's a lot of blood.”

“Blood?” Peter tried to turn around, but Tim stopped him, gently pressing with his fingers the back of Peter’s head. Peter hissed at the stab of pain.

“I think you have a cut.”

Peter quickly stepped away from Tim when he felt the fabric of his mask being pulled up, his hands already raising to pull it back down.

“Don't do that,” He hissed.

“I need to check how bad it is,” Tim urged him, “I don't need to see your face, but that's a lot of blood.”

No, that- Peter couldn’t let him see. The specifics of why were a little vague for him right now, yet it was important that no one peeked under his mask, so he shook his head and immediately regretted it since it made his dizziness worse.

“I'll heal, I just need to sleep it off.”

“No, you can't sleep right now!” The scream pierced his head, and he raised a hand to ask Tim to stop. Luckily, the teen did so. “We need to get you out of here.”

That sounded reasonable. Peter needed to get Tim to a hospital so someone could check him, but now that he had stopped walking, he realized how exhausted he was. The itch below the skin behind his head hadn't stopped ever since he started walking around with Tim on his back, so his body was doing its best to heal itself. All it needed was time.

Tim wasn’t going to like this, but he slowly sat down on the floor. Now that he wasn't walking and didn't have Tim on his back, he could feel himself losing some of his balance.

“I'm- Not falling asleep. Just...” he took a deep breath, and yeah, he wasn’t feeling good. “Let me sit.”

“Spider-man, we need to keep moving. The bleeding-”

“Already stopped,” Peter cut him off. It was a guess, but bleeding never tended to prolong for long with him, even when the wounds weren't gone. Stitches would be ideal, but no one should peek under his mask. He wasn't sure how that was going to work. “Just give me time, so thinking doesn't hurt.”

Just as expected, Tim looked extremely dissatisfied with Peter, but let out a long sigh and sat down opposite from Peter, holding his side with a clear expression of pain while he did so. Shit. The Stitches.

Tim messed around with his phone for a few minutes and let out a groan each time he tried to make a call.

“You should turn it off,” Peter interrupted him. “Save the battery.”

“It's already low, anyway,” Tim complained. “It's going to run out sooner than later, and I'm not looking forward to being left in the dark.”

Peter nodded. “It's going to make it harder to get out.”

“Harder? Is going to make it impossible,” Tim let out almost hysterical, and Peter couldn't blame him. It was scary to be down there, especially if they didn't know for certain if there was an exit; still, it would tarnish his name as a hero if he let Tim panic.

“It's going to be alright,” He offered. They were always the worst words one could say, but thinking felt like trying to pull out his teeth, so he hoped that his confidence gave the teen some comfort. “Give me an hour to rest and I'll get us out.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep.”

Peter shook his head. “It's not a promise, is a fact.”

Tim scoffed and then turned off his phone.

The dark was gladly welcomed by Peter, realizing that the light had been bothering him all this time, although, with how sore he was after their little brush with death, it was hard to tell what didn't bother him.
Taking a deep breath, he enjoyed the relief of closing his eyes for a moment and relaxing his body, slowly hunching into a small ball on the floor so his sweater could cover him as much as possible and also double as a makeshift bedding. He told Tim he wasn’t going to fall asleep, but he might just go ahead and do it.

A pebble hit close to his head, alerting Peter.

“I can't see, but I can hear you falling asleep,” Tim talked through the darkness, all judgy and serious.

Peter glared in his direction. He glared, not pouted. He didn't pout.

“It's easy for you,” Peter complained. “You just slept for an hour.”

“I was unconscious, that's different.”

“Maybe I want to fall unconscious too.”

“...You don't sound scared.”

Tim sounded pensive, which stopped Peter in his tracks.

Was Tim not angry? He certainly acted like he was, throwing things at him and all, but there was something in there that Peter couldn’t put his finger on, something that Peter wasn't seeing.

“Why would I be? We have each other.”

“We are still stuck.”

“My offer to eat me is still standing,” he half-joked, half-reminded Tim. Would that be comforting? Probably not, but then again, Peter wasn't in a good position to worry about it. “Can we talk later? When thinking doesn't hurt?”

“If I stop talking, you're going to fall asleep.”

It sounded important. Tim said it like it was important, but the finer details as to why escaped Peter, so he took a guess and got up from his place, stumbled through the dark, and slumped down beside Tim, getting a small yelp from the other. He took the teen's hand and interlocked their hands together in what he considered a solid but not too tight hold.

“What are you-?” Tim asked, sounding quite flustered, but Peter cut him off.

“There, now you know I'm still here.”

“That's not-! I wasn't worried about that!”

“No? Then please let me sleep.”

“You have a concussion, you shouldn't be sleeping,” Tim repeated like Peter knew what that combination of words meant. All he knew was that Tim was irritated.

“That happened hours ago, man.”

“I'm going to bite your head off if you die on me in your sleep,” Tim threatened, but he sounded begrudgingly accepting of them taking a nap, so Peter slowly lay his head against the wall. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, my head and sleep, and all of that. Night night, Tim.”

And because he didn't want to be an asshole despite how much he wanted to just fall asleep right there and there, Peter took his hand, the one that was interlocked with Tim's, and awkwardly hugged it. If Tim needed him awake for any reason, all he would need to do was pull, and Peter would wake up in an instant.
Peter waited patiently with his eyes closed, listening to Tim's breathing until it finally slowed down with sleep, and then, just then, Peter allowed himself to drift away.

Notes:

Have you ever wondered what it would feel like if you walked way too early into a final stage in a survival horror game and you had none of the pieces and also none of the context of what you’re looking at? Well, I think it would be something like this.

I need you to know that this entire arc was an excuse for me to write the chapel. It exists because of the idea of the chapel. Everyone clap and cheer at the existence of the chapel.

Chapter 18

“Spider-man, get up.”

Gentle shaking woke him up from his slumber, and Peter begrudgingly stirred in his place, feeling cheated of his good night of sleep when his body immediately complained because of the pain.
Opening his eyes did nothing since the room stayed dark, and it took an embarrassingly long second for Peter to remember the where and the why.

Right.

The underground chapel.

The explosion.

His childish demand to take a nap.

Peter was never going to live this one down, that was for sure.

“Did a train hit me?” he complained while pushing himself off the floor. The pain, of course, didn't compare to the actual thing, but he had been enjoying a few days of not feeling like his whole existence hurt up to a metaphysical level, so he was resenting it quite harshly.

“So you didn't die in your sleep,” Tim playfully commented in the dark.

At least someone was in a better mood.

“I told you I wasn't gonna,” Peter rolled his eyes, and, even if he couldn't see in the dark, he looked down at his hand. Their hands were still interlocked. “Do you want this back? Or can I keep it?”

“What would you even do with an extra hand?”

“Add it to my collection.”

Tim snorted. “Of course. Why didn't I think of that?”

Peter clicked his tongue and shook his head, even if Tim couldn't see him. “These kids of today, they lack vision.”

Tim gave him an extremely well-aimed punch to the arm. “Shut up and get going. Yesterday you promised that you could get us out.”

“Aw, I thought you woke me up because you missed me,” Peter said with mock hurt, already trying to orient himself.

“Of course not, I haven't had my morning coffee. I'm going through withdrawal.”

“Alright, let's not keep you away from your morning cup for too long then.” Peter snickered and then did his best to shut up and just listen.

First, he focused on his immediate surroundings, cataloging the sound of their breathing and their heartbeats, the sound of insects scurrying away from them in search of their next meal. Then, he tried to shift his focus to those sounds inside and beyond the walls: the sound of the stone walls creaking with each subtle shift of the earth, the air moving through and creating soft and faint currents, the sound of water flowing through pipes, and electricity cracking through cables buried in the soil. And beyond that, high above, the echoes of the world finally alive after a long night, the subway, the cars, the people walking around – That last layer sounded incredibly far away, and Peter shouldn’t be able to make it out with how deep into the ground they were, yet, the world was there.

He regrounded himself in the room- No, into the cave they were standing in and focused his senses on the airflow, taking notice of the direction and if it sounded like it was going deeper or if it was climbing its way into the upper layers.
It was confusing. He had never truly used his senses in this way beyond that one time in the draining system, so the amount of stimulus he had to go through was quite the daunting task even if all he was doing was focusing on his hearing; still, after a long while and sorting out all the information, he reached for Tim's arm and gently pulled him in the direction he thought was the right one.

“You scared me, I thought you walked away-” Tim snarked, but Peter squeezed his arm lightly, effectively cutting him off.

“I've only done this once,” he explained absentmindedly, unaware that he was whispering. “I need silence.”

There was a quick dysregulation in Tim’s heartbeat at the revelation; however, Peter didn't have enough practice with what he was doing to have the mind to try to pacify Tim's worries and keep going at the same time, so he let that detail drown in the ocean of information he was currently filtering out.

Moving through the void was painstakingly slow, even when Peter had absolute certainty that he was walking in the right direction. It felt like trying to run underwater where it didn't matter how fast he tried to be, his body barely moved forward; if he didn't maintain full concentration on the faint sound of the air current he was following, he was sure that he would lose it and would need to reground himself once again and lose another fifteen minutes, but the mental load of doing so was so heavy that his legs were clumsy with every step.

His breathing became too loud, so he tried his best to keep it shallow, but he couldn't do anything about the sound of his blood rushing through him. It was dizzying and disorienting, becoming this aware of the sound coming from inside his body – Heartbeats. Breathing. Those he was used to hearing, even his own, but to be able to hear the way his muscles tensed around his bones, the way his blood went from point A to point B, his organs working and shifting inside of him. All of those were new to him.
From a scientific standpoint, it was fascinating listening to his body working, especially after comparing the sound with the second set of sounds following him and finding that there were some anomalies in his own set. That provided the base of some interesting theories that would be interesting to research, even if biology had never been his forte.

From a personal standpoint? It was perturbing and quite disgusting.

It wasn't even that this place was so silent that Peter was able to hear all of this; on the contrary, the place was full of sounds that he was deliberately filtering out. No, the right question was if he could always do it and he just never tried it, or if something had changed in him after he was sent to this dimension.

Somehow, he wasn’t comfortable with either of those options.

Still, he couldn’t do anything about it, so he stomped down all those conflicting emotions like the perfectly mature person he was, and continued forward.

His body started to cramp up with all the tension of keeping the focus, so he stopped walking for a second to take a breather. He relaxed his body, sighing in relief, and then kept going forward. Something pulled at his sweater, or more like it latched onto the fabric, but Peter did his best to ignore it so the trance he had so carefully crafted wouldn't break. Whatever it was, he could deal with it once he managed to find the exit.

He autonomously turned to the right along with the current he was following just to stop a few steps in. Water. He could hear water. Not far like he had heard at first, this was close, or at least closer than it was before.

Like a dog following a scent, Peter changed gears and searched for the water. The sound was louder than a faint breeze, so his mind didn't have to strain so much, and his body was able to quicken its pace, even if it was still technically walking. He turned into a tunnel and halfway stopped and walked back from where he had come from, quickly realizing that the sound was coming from higher.

It took a few failed attempts for him to finally walk into a wall and press his ear against the stone, despite that not affecting the clarity of the sound.

He sucked air in something so quiet that it wasn't even a gasp.

There was water at the other side of the wall, and above him, he could hear with painful clarity the city above him. The sound drilled against the side of his head, and, for a moment, it became overwhelming, but that was good; it was an overly familiar pain that had followed him ever since his powers found him.

This was his exit.

With full determination, Peter threw a punch and felt the stone crack under his hand, yet it didn’t immediately give in. A second and a third punch did the trick.

The pride of being close to freedom was overshadowed by the foul smell that hit him instantly. Peter had to take a few steps back while he covered his nose and lamented his luck.

A sewer.

Of course, it needed to be a sewer.

“Fuck, that reeks,” Tim said.

Peter‐ He would like to say that he didn't forget that Tim was also there, but if he did, then he would have no explanation for the scream he just let out.
He turned around and gently grabbed at Tim's arm, not completely sure of what to do with his rushing heart and the sudden spike in adrenaline. At some point, he had just forgotten that he was technically not doing this for himself.

“Are you ok?” Tim put a hand over his shoulder, sounding quite confused.

Peter nodded and then remembered that they couldn't see each other in the dark. “Yeah, yeah, I- I kind of forgot there was someone here,” He explained breathlessly.

Tim, the asshole, started cackling at the confession. “So when you let go of me-?”

“I have no recollection of ever doing so.” Somehow, that made Tim laugh even harder, clinging to Peter’s arms so he wouldn't fall on the debris on the floor or straight to the sewers. “Is not even that funny.”

“Is not,” Tim agreed, “but we have been walking in the dark for hours. I'm so relieved, you don't even know.”

Peter huffed lightly. “I would ask when I have ever failed you, but I would be walking into that one.”

“You would, yes.”

Peter waited patiently for Tim to calm down, amused by the sudden outburst. For someone who had been handling the situation extremely well, Tim was letting out a lot of tension with each laugh. It made him feel extremely guilty.

“Come on, let's find a manhole and get out of here.” Tim pulled him, taking a few steps before stopping. “Why don't you go first? I can't see shit.”

Peter snorted.

“Everyone grab tight onto the Spider First Express, we are leaving the station!” Without giving him the option, Peter grabbed Tim as if he were grabbing a puppy and raised him from the ground, carefully maneuvering his body through the hole in the wall and depositing him at the other side.

“You're so dumb,” Tim deadpanned, which was somehow funnier when it came like a disembodied voice in the middle of the dark.

“Me? You're the one following me.”

“I'm here to make sure you don't die,” The teen answered solemnly.

“You're here because you didn't want to go to work,” Peter shot back.

“That too.”

And they laughed.

It wasn’t even that funny, but Peter felt all the tension in his body melt away, and the laugh just kept overflowing out of him. There were a lot of things to worry about: when would be his next meal, what he would do if he lost the black buildings, and how things would pan out once he talked with the heroes. Yet, right about that moment, everything felt small and insignificant compared to surviving the night, so he leaned into that feeling.
He laughed when Tim tried to push him to the water and couldn't move him an inch, he laughed when he grabbed the teen and pretended to throw him into the water, and even if it hurt, he laughed when Tim kicked him in the face by accident while trying to free himself.

How sad that this was a one-time thing, but at least Peter enjoyed it while it lasted.

Finding a manhole was probably the easiest thing he had done since he woke up. Opening it with a push was the second easiest.

A woman yelped, jumping to the side when Peter got out of the hole first, and Peter might have apologized if it wasn't for the fact that the woman wacked him with her purse and immediately started running away. Peter couldn’t really fault her, so he let it go and offered a hand to Tim, who was finishing climbing out of the hole.

The teen squinted displeased, and covered his eyes for a moment to later start looking around, a frown still in place because of the sunlight.

“Man, we are far from where we started,” Tim noted, and in a swift motion, took out his phone and turned it on in front of Peter.

Peter stared at the device for a long moment. “You still had battery?”

“For one call if I'm lucky,” Tim answered absentmindedly, already dialing a call. The telltale click of a call being answered came almost instantly, giving Peter no time to filter out the voice on the other side.

“Where are you?” A stern voice asked as soon as the call started, and Tim frowned while he physically did all he could to not let out a long sigh.

“I don't have a lot of battery, B, but I'm fine. I-”

Peter turned around and took a few steps away, the universal sign that he was giving Tim space to make his call without eavesdropping. He felt like a creep already knowing who was at the other side and how they sounded, especially since he remembered the nickname the librarian had used.

So far, he was betting that it was Tim’s boss, but that was absolutely none of his business, so instead of playing second-rate detective with Tim’s life, Peter looked around in hopes of familiarizing himself with the street. He had no idea of where they were, still, everything looked way too nice to be close to his neighborhood, so they couldn't be that far from the construction site; it would take them an hour or an hour and a half to get back to the car, and that was the worst-case scenario... Unless they had somehow gone under one of the bridges. In that case, it might take them less if they just took a train... Well, if Tim took a train. Peter needed to save the money for other things, and walking wouldn’t be so bad.

The sound should have reached his ears first, however, before the noise of tires scratching against the asphalt and the familiar melody of police sirens, Peter felt his senses stir and twist at the back of his mind – Danger was coming, but this was not what his spider-sense wanted to tell him. It took a firm hold of his guts and, suddenly, Peter felt the hunger dwelling up in him.

A new prey was coming.

Peter shook his head, startled by the return of this bizarre side of his spider-sense. This wasn’t the place nor the time to have this outburst, even less to start salivating like a dog. He turned to Tim, wanting to let him know that something was happening, yet the teen was still on the phone, frowning at whatever his boss was telling him.
He didn’t want to interrupt him; whatever B was telling him sounded quite important, but the echoes of the police chase getting closer were starting to drown out everything else. No matter how he looked at it, those cars were coming their way.

“Tim,” he called out to the teen, taking a few steps to get his attention. “Maybe we should move-”

A car drifted into the end of the street they were standing on, bringing with it the sound of gunshots. The street filled with fearful screams and the sound of people trying to run away from the incoming danger; however, Peter knew they didn’t have enough time to properly hide, so he found himself already by Tim’s side and dragging him behind a car to protect him.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked, seemingly confused by what was happening, but Peter could see a sense of alertness in his eyes. Something cold and calculated that resulted familiar.

Still, he couldn’t stay there and try to make memory as to where he had seen that stare before. He had a car to catch.

“Stay here,” Peter breathed out the order without looking back at Tim, already jumping over the car they were using to hide and running towards the middle of the street.

A black armored van was speeding down the street, followed by half a dozen police cars hastily giving chase. The person in the copilot seat was almost seated on the frame of their window, carelessly shooting at the cars behind them.
Peter took in the scene in a second and knew what he was going to do, smiling to himself. It really felt like he was returning to his roots in this city, first by focusing on being the new friendly neighbor and now by stopping a car out of control... Well, it wasn’t a complete match, but it still felt quite nostalgic.

The van accelerated as if to tell him to get out of the way or get run over, but Peter didn’t move, lowering his body slightly and preparing for the imminent impact.

The front of the car punched out the air of his lungs once it actually hit him, yet that wasn’t enough to move Peter from his spot. He hugged the front of the car with a firm grip and lifted it from the ground, completely separating all four tires from the floor. It was certainly heavier than a normal van, and Peter had to take a deep breath to compensate for his miscalculation. Of course, he wasn’t done yet.

As gently as he could, he turned the van to its side and allowed it to fall to the asphalt, careful not to let it hit too hard so the people inside wouldn’t end up too hurt.

Once the weight was out of his arms, he took a few steps back to regain his balance and stared at his work. The policemen were already parking behind the van, getting out with their guns aimed at him and the black car, but at least they seemed to prioritize the van over him, so that was nice.

“Spider-man!”

Peter glanced to his right and watched a pissed off Tim trot towards him. However, everyone stopped in their tracks when a loud metallic thud filled the air, and the back doors of the van flew off their hinges, landing over a couple of the police cars and crushing them under their weight.

Several gasps filled the street when a large, tall man with a black mask over his head stepped out of the back of the van. The policemen stepped back, giving the man enough space to stand and look around – He was massive, both in height and muscles, and several thick tubes protruded from his hands and arms, climbing their way to the back of his head
The man paused when his eyes landed on Peter, his eyes narrowing in something that wasn't a full glare but quite close. At least he seemed more curious so far, walking in Peter’s direction instead of starting a full-on brawl the moment he laid eyes on him.

“What the fuck is Bane doing here?” Peter heard Tim whisper to himself, walking away from the two of them.

Bane.

Ah.

Peter recognized that name from his neighbors’ stories. He was one of the heavy hitters in Gotham and was normally only dealt with by Batman, according to Carlos. Peter could see why; the man looked like a living tank, and more than one person said that he could break people in half with his bare hands.

Time to put that to the test.

“Who are you supposed to be?” The man called out to him, curiosity just as clear as the threat in his voice. “I haven't seen you before.”

Peter stared at this gargantuan piece of a man and decided that yes, he could play his normal banter with him for a moment, at least until he got a feel of the situation.

“Sorry about that, I just moved in last week.” He slowly walked to the left, keeping his eyes on Bane and talking with more confidence than he actually felt. The man followed suit, slowly walking circles in the small space they created for themselves in the middle of the street.  “Haven't had time for introductions.”

“So that's why you’re stupid enough to get in my way,” the man pointed out darkly, but gave Peter a quick once-over. After a second, he let out a scoff.

Well, that was just rude.

“Oh no, I know who you are.” Peter taunted despite his best judgment. “I'm just not scared of you”

“Let's fix that then.”

Bane moved faster than Peter anticipated, getting into Peter's personal space in a blink; still, dodging his first attack was easy enough since it was nothing close to the speed he had used to move towards Peter.

The reason became clear when Peter ducked out of the way and, a second later, felt the air above his head split with enough force that it became clear someone normal would have lost his head if the hit had landed.
Peter looked up at the man looming over him. Bane smirked down at him, the cruel smile growing with the knowledge that Peter had gotten the message.

He was testing him. Trying to intimidate Peter into submission.

Given that Peter had seen worse, it didn’t work as planned.

“Wow! That’s an impressive right hook!” Bane's crooked smile faded with the praise. “My turn.”

Since he had left himself open, Peter didn’t hesitate to use this opportunity to strike Bane, getting a direct hit to his stomach with considerable force. Peter heard him lose the air in his lungs; however, he was surprised to find that his punch was met with a solid wall of meat; a punch like this would normally send anyone flying, yet Bane hadn’t even moved from his place.

“Oh. That’s not good.”

Before he could mend his mistake, Bane grabbed him by the back of his neck, keeping him there while he tried to knee him in the face. Peter managed to wriggle out of the hold before the hit would land, yet Bane managed to grab him by the ribbon of his camera.
Peter cursed at his luck. He didn’t even remember that he still had the thing around his neck and which cost him to be spun in the air until the ribbon gave out, and he landed with full force on the front windshield of a car.

Peter groaned, feeling his back crack while he tried to get himself up, yet the pain was reduced to second place when his spider-sense flared up and his neck snapped up, to the police car that was about to crush him.

He managed to roll out of the way in time, only to find Bane already waiting for him with a kick aimed at his head. Peter jumped back to dodge it, but Bane was already reaching down at him with a hand to try to crush him. In a rush, Peter raised a hand to stop the incoming blow.

The fight paused for a second when Bane’s hand came to an abrupt halt, effectively stopped by Peter’s hand.

They stared at their hands in silent astonishment for a long second. Bane looked down at Peter with a new gleam in his eyes, realization hitting them both at the same time; Peter wished he didn't have his mask on so he could give the man his biggest shit eating grin.

“Would you look at that?” Peter let out playfully before his brain could stop him. “I stopped it!”

Bane let out a loud growl and grabbed Peter by the torso, throwing him against a wall on the opposite side of the street.

The wall broke with the impact, leaving Peter to crash against the furniture inside the building. A woman screamed in fear, startled by the fact that Peter had ended up inside instead of keeping the fight on the street and away from all the remaining civilians in the area.

Peter groaned on the ground, the echoes of Bane’s steps filling his ears for a moment, each step marked by a heavy stomp.

The way Bane moved and attacked reminded him a little too much of Bucky in the sense that it was clearly coming from military training focused on breaking as many things as possible with each punch. Bucky never really fought against him like that, always defaulting to a weird mix of Steve’s moveset and street brawling, as to “not hurt the kid too much”.
He always hated that the man would do that, and yet, Peter barely ever managed to win a real spar against the man.

On top of it all, Peter still didn’t have his shooters because he had been procrastinating on them, and now he was suffering the consequences of his decisions.

He needed to change tactics. Bane was overwhelming him with his attacks to give him next to no room to answer back, and would probably double down now that he knew that Peter could stop his punches. What Peter needed was a definitive blow to overpower Bane, something that would end the fight in one move.

“Kid,” A man gently called out for him, breaking Peter’s line of thought. “Are you alright?”

Finally, looking around to where he had landed, Peter stared at the people awkwardly standing at the back of the room.

Peter got up from the floor in a hurry, staring at the five people in the room with him. They flinched back but didn’t move otherwise, simply staring at Peter with big eyes.

“Hi everyone! I'm going to have to ask you to get out of here as soon as you can. Try to find a backdoor or-” Peter didn’t manage to end the sentence, his spider-sense making him snap his attention to the hole in the wall just in time to catch a tire thrown in his direction.

He needed to lure Bane away from the civilians before anyone got hurt.

Without looking back, Peter jumped out of the building using the same hole he had come in and threw back the tire at Bane, already running at him the moment the object left his hand. He wasn’t sure what happened with the tire, but Bane was already prepared for him when Peter reached his side, both of his hands held together in a fist and coming down fast to squash Peter.
Peter deviated the punch, pushing it to the side and using the opportunity to grab Bane by the arm and threw him as hard as he could against the armored van.

The van got crushed under Bane’s weight, cracking with a deafening metallic sound that filled the street like thunder. Peter expected the man to stay down at least a moment, long enough to give him time to come up with a good enough combo that would let him win the fight; however, Bane got up almost immediately, glaring daggers at Peter.

Peter let out a short huff. “Man, you’re really giving me a good workout.”

Bane almost growled in response to the taunt, and that’s when he finally made a mistake.

He reached for his right hand while walking towards Peter, moving what looked to be a dial. The moment he did that, orange liquid started rushing out from the small metal circle in his hand, filling the tubes in his arms and back in an instant.
Bane’s body started to morph in response. The man was already taller than Peter by three heads, but now he had somehow gained another head on Peter. It should have been scary to see his opponent become even stronger in seconds, yet Peter couldn’t help but feel dumb.

Of course! Why didn’t he think of that sooner? He didn’t need to overpower Bane. If he had been paying attention from the start, he would have noticed what was going on. Of course, the tubes were important; of course, they contained some sort of chemical. Bane was a watered-down version of a super soldier and needed a constant supply of the serum to work.

All Peter needed to do was stop that supply.

“Alright, big guy!” He clapped a few times, hyping himself up. “I’m ready for round two whenever you are.”

Bane didn't appreciate the encouragement, immediately forgetting about walking and starting full-on sprinting towards Peter.

Knowing what was coming, Peter lowered his body and mentally prepared. He confronted Bane head-on, exchanging blows with the man despite knowing that Bane could wipe out the floor with him in a fair fight – But this was not a fair fight.

Peter dodged a blow by jumping over Bane’s head; however, instead of landing on the floor, he landed on Bane’s back and used his powers to stick to the man. Bane cursed loudly while twisting to try and grab him, but Peter kept crawling away from his hands, using the man’s gargantuan body as his own walking board. And when Peter saw an opening, he clung to Bane’s right arm and went straight for the dial in the back of his hand.

The small device crumbled under Peter’s fingers, but he wasn't sure if that would be enough to stop the internal mechanism, so, as a precaution, he also grabbed the thick tube coming out of it and pulled.
Orange liquid shot out of the broken device, and Peter had the mind to get out of the way before getting soaked with the mystery chemical. Bane's body started to shrink into more average proportions, so Peter finally let go and rolled on the floor, turning around in time to see the man falling to his knees.

Peter waited for him to get back up just as he had been doing up until this point, but Bane stayed down, his entire body trembling due to the strain of the fight. Or at least that's what Peter hoped. He wouldn't know what to do if the man ended up in that state because of cutting off the supply so suddenly – Would that have secondary effects? Was he supposed to not touch the tubes?

How did Batman normally do it?

Apparently, no one else cared about that, since the policemen at the scene hurried up to get out of their hiding place and ran to the man on the floor, carefully sidestepping around Peter so they could put handcuffs on Bane.

Peter found himself being deliberately ignored while the police dragged Bane away and worked on blocking off the street with yellow tape. Suddenly, there were police guiding people out of the area, and someone seemed to try to contact whoever was going to be in charge of cleaning the mess left behind by the fight.
A little bit confused, Peter tried to stop a woman to ask if they needed a hand, but she flinched away at the touch, nervously telling him that he had done enough and advised him to get out of there before the commissioner arrived at the scene.

He nodded, even more confused now, but did his best to get out of the way and focused his remaining energy on trying to find his camera.

When he finally found it, Peter couldn't help but let out a defeated huff. The lens and the screen were cracked, the door on the front was missing altogether, and, worst of all, a piece of metal had stabbed the side of the plastic case.

With a downcast expression, he pressed the ON button just to confirm what he suspected: The toy remained off.

Looking around, all the photos he had taken the previous day were scattered and tattered throughout the street, making it impossible to know what was depicted in the photos. It should've been a good thing; he knew that some of those were supposed to be a secret anyway, but seeing all his efforts destroyed made his body feel heavy.

He had been genuinely excited to use the camera.

“Are you alright?” Tim's question startled him out of his train of thought.

Peter turned around to find the teen standing behind him, expression gentle but unsure. He had a small frown on his face, twisted by sincere concern in his eyes; his eyes lowered and found the broken camera in Peter's hands, and something about the image made him pause.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Peter hurried to answer, clumsily tying the broken ends of the ribbon so he could hang the camera around his neck again. “Just a little bump out, but I'm sure I can fix it. Anyway, shouldn't you be behind the tape?”

Tim eyed him for a moment with a neutral expression, as if to decide if he wanted to press the matter or not, but after half a second, his expression softened once again and he shrugged.

“I sneaked in. But I wasn't asking because of that. I'm pretty sure we all heard when Bane broke your ribs.”

Oh. Did he break something? “I still can't feel it over the adrenaline, give me five minutes and I'll tell you.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at him. It looked like he was aiming for disapproval, yet, the edges of his mouth were curving into an amused smirk. “Someone is coming over to get me since my car is too far away. We can drive you to the hospital if you want.”

Peter immediately shook his head. He had already pushed his luck by getting in a car with Tim last night, getting into a car with even more people he didn't know was tempting destiny. Besides, he needed to start making good decisions to balance out the mess he had created, give himself some good karma points before fate decided to strike down again.

That reminds him. “Did you tell them that you also need to go to the hospital?”

“I- Why would I need that?” Tim frowned, confused.

“You had a concussion, remember?”

“You also had one, and now you have a few broken ribs.” Tim crossed his arms, a cocky grin challenging Peter to tell him otherwise. “I think you’re the one who needs it the most”.

“We both need a hospital, you know? After the night we had, I think we both deserved it.” It was amusing for Peter to see the quick grimace in Tim’s face, only to smooth out back into the wolfish smile of his.

“You're coming then.” It wasn't a question, and as much as Peter had enjoyed his quality time with Tim, he knew it was time to draw the line.

“I think I'll pass this time. I need to head back home before my boss starts a manhunt.”

Tim blinked twice. “You have a job?”

“Yeah?” Peter raised an eyebrow of his own. And then remembered that Tim couldn't see it under his mask. “How do you think I pay the bills?”

“I-” Tim stammered, but stopped himself. He seemed to have a moment of clarity in which he realized that whatever he was going to say wasn't a good idea, so he straightened and brushed his hair out of his face with a hand. “Sorry, I guess I wasn't expecting it since you never mentioned anything.”

“I mean, how else am I going to maintain my mysterious reputation?”

Tim nodded solemnly as if that made any sense and quietly chuckled to himself. “Ok, I’ll let you go if you promise to go to the hospital.”

That made Peter snort because, wasn't Tim being a hypocrite?

“Yeah? Will you go to the hospital?” He fired back, crossing his arms.

Tim didn't even try to deny it, shaking his head and grinning widely. “They are going to be searching for the idiot who demolished a building in the middle of the night. I'll get the family doctor to take a look.”

Peter paused, slowly processing those words. “Wait, hold on. Go back a few words. The idiot that did what?”

“Shh! Don't say it out loud,” Tim whispered-screamed it at him, taking a quick look around to be sure that no one was listening to their conversation, and leaned forward. “I got a call. They were worried because an old building went down last night.”

The implications were left unsaid, but it was easy to reach the conclusion: they were the idiots who demolished the building.

Peter grimaced at the thought. “Is everyone alright?”

“I would say they are. It’s not a residential area, and it happened in the middle of the night, so no one was around,” The teen explained casually, his eyes darting over the policemen for a second and then coming back to Peter. He glanced at him with sharp eyes.

“The invitation is still open, you know?” Tim's expression softened, close to a sincere smile while he tried to sound generous. “I can get my doctor to check you up. I won’t charge.”

Did he look that bad?

Ah damn! These were his good clothes!

Did they break during the fight? The blood stains would never get out. He would have to deal with them once he got home, for right now, he needed to leave.

“That sounds nice, but I'll pass,” Peter shook his head one last time. “Besides, I know you’re stalling. How long do I have before your driver gets here?”

Those words wiped out the smile off Tim’s face, stunning him into silence. The teen blinked at him with shock for such a short moment that Peter wasn't sure if he just imagined it. Still, even when his shock was gone, Tim stared at him, carefully examining him with a sharp gaze, his eyes shining with interest.

His devilish grin came back with full force. “I would say you have six minutes.”

Peter nodded. “Then I think this is my goodbye.” He offered a hand to Tim. “Hope you don't have to go to work today.”

Tim took his hand without doubt, making Peter jump startled when he felt something half crumpled in Tim’s hold. “And I hope you don't get in a fight and lose this one too.”

When Tim let go, Peter found a twenty-dollar bill in his hand. When did he even get it out? If he ever met Tim again, he was totally asking him to teach him that trick.

“Don't look at it like that, it won't bite you,” Tim taunted. “I promised I would drive you home, so at least let me pay for the taxi.”

“Maybe not a cab, but certainly for breakfast.” Any other day, Peter would just give the money back, but today? He could take a cheat day.

“Is already past noon, Spider,” Tim sang while pretending to look at his non-existent wrist watch. “You have four minutes left.”

Peter was gone in two.

Finding a metro station was easy enough, and the road back felt a little less exhausting after buying a snack to nibble on. It wouldn’t fill him, yet Peter didn't dare to buy anything bigger for fear of wasting the remaining money.
He still couldn't believe that he went outside of his neighborhood for less than twenty-four hours, and not only did he end up with twenty dollars, but also managed to bring down a building and mess up a street in the process.

Dave was going to be pissed with him.

Maybe this was why Red Hood wanted him out of his territory, maybe the man knew that Peter was an omen of bad luck...

Peter shook his head and rolled to his back, taking a big bite of his bread. There was no way Red Hood would know that, and the man had been vocal about his reasons, even if Peter thought that his age wasn't a valid argument. It had been good enough for Tony, even if all the Avengers reproached him about it later on.

He took another bite of his bread and stared at the sky, feeling the breeze blowing around him while the metro was still moving.

Maybe it would have been better to pay the fee; he was getting quite cold hanging out on the roof, and the ticket wouldn't have been that expensive. Besides, now that he thought about it, he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to get off at the right station without having the map readily available for him.

...

Ok, it couldn't be that difficult. He knew his station; he had been there twice, so he could probably eyeball it, right? It wasn't like he hadn't been paying attention when he went to the library, and the city wasn't that big to begin with. Peter even knew he needed to cross one of the bridges! Yeah, he could probably hop trains a few times and get home without problems... Or so he thought.
The bad thing about guiding himself, only knowing that he needed to cross a bridge, was that he mistakenly took the wrong line twice, sending him the opposite way of where he wanted to go. It didn't help either that he stubbornly insisted on staying on the ceiling of the train instead of throwing the towel and taking the train like everyone else.

On the bright side, at some point, Peter just gave up worrying about getting home and enjoyed the view.

It was hard to admit it, given the number of times people had tried to shoot him, but Gotham was remarkably beautiful for a place where the sun never came out and where the air constantly had a tinge of green or black, not to mention the lingering smell of chemicals and waste... But it was somehow charming, in a twisted way.

If he didn't go home, if breaking the spell didn't open a way back, would he stay here? Could he really make a home for himself?

So far, it was the only place he knew, and all the people he had met were from this city, but this was a new world, a new dimension; there wasn't any rule that forbade him from exploring it. More importantly, Peter wasn't sure if he was overstaying his welcome; any day, the heroes of this city could descend on him and tell him to get out and become someone else's problem. It would be sad if that ever happened, but he wouldn't have a reason to stay – He didn't have a home, and all his things fit in a bag. The spell made it dangerous to be around him, and even if that wasn't the case, who would be willing to deal with Parker’s luck?

Back home, none of that was an issue, but he had people he could trust and depend on, he had his friends and Aunt May. Had Tony and the Avengers. Had his confidence too.

Ever since he got there, he just wasn't sure of what to do with himself.

But at least he was sure of one thing: It was time to get some dinner.

Notes:

So, the version of Bane that I actually remember is the one from The Batman (2004), which does get crazy big when the venom gets in his system. I'm not sure if this is the usual or if it was exclusive to this version, but I decided to keep it because that's my favorite version of Batman.

There was a 3 month gap between the last chapter and this one and I hope it doesn't show. Shout out to EndlessBread for leaving a beautiful comment that actually gave me the strength to sit down and write this chapter!!!! Although, I had to re-read the entire arc so I could try to remember what type of personality I gave Tim; honest to god, I'm not even sure if I did a good job, but I hope he still comes across as a little weirdo.

Chapter 19

The sky was already a dark red when Peter managed to return to the neighborhood. Despite having a surprisingly good time jumping between trains, not getting any food in his system all day was already giving him a reality check. That piece of bread had done nothing but add fuel to the fire of his hunger, and Peter was really feeling it now.

“So much for not skipping meals,” he rubbed his stomach, feeling sluggish while he dragged his feet.

Not only was he famished, but his body was so sore from the fight, and probably from the cave-in from last night. As much as he didn’t like it, he was going to have to go to the hospital and get himself checked at some point even if his injuries weren’t that bad – The money wasn’t going to come out of his pockets anyway and he better take advantage of the ‘free’ healthcare before Boss decided he was too much of a headache to keep around.

Still. The hunger. He needed to get something in his stomach as soon as possible or he was going to go crazy.

His main problem was that he wasn't even sure what time it was, and he sure as hell didn't want to bother Dave before eight, not after his behavior of yesterday. They needed to talk at some point... But probably not today, it would be too soon, right? Or was this one of those situations in which giving too much space would give the wrong message?...

Peter let out a long sigh.

He moved to the soup kitchen instead of going directly to the Ming Express. Unfortunately for him, the camera had survived the astonishing amount of one day before getting gutted by life so he couldn't use it as a clock any more, which left him depending on the only other clock he knew of: the one at the soup kitchen.
Mentally creating his to-do list, Peter decided that he would go to the hospital if it was too early to go bother Dave. Dr. Thompkins would probably lecture him about being careful and look at him with disappointment which, with some luck, wouldn't take too long; from there he could go to the Ming Express to get dinner (and maybe actually pay for it for once), and then he would go back home to do a scrap hunt and start working on a prototype for his shooters.

Peter nodded to himself, satisfied with the idea of finally putting himself to work, except that when he finally had the soup kitchen on sight, the door was wide open.

The lights were off and, given the time, the kitchen should've been closed. Did the others forget to close the door? No, that couldn't be, Belinda would never allow it. Was someone stealing from them and forced the door open? If they did, Peter was going to be impressed. That door was hard to open, even with the key, and it didn't look like they had broken the windows to get inside.

Wary, he came to a halt and focused.

“I swear to god, I'm going to skin him alive when I see him.”

Peter blinked.

That was Lisa. What was she doing here?

A chuckle answered back, and Hector added, “Get in line, you're not the only one.”

And that left Peter speechless. What were they doing in the kitchen? Did they already know each other? A heavy weight dropped in Peter’s guts the moment that question crossed his mind because, from where would they know each other? Lisa lived far from the neighborhood, and she clearly started coming here because of Peter.

Did they know each other from somewhere else?

Did- Did they know each other because of Red Hood?

A thin layer of cold sweat started to accumulate on his forehead. Was Lisa also spying on him? Was she in the know all along?

Were they even friends?

Peter had to lean on a wall, his breathing going wild along with his mind. He needed to calm down or he was going to make himself pass out.

He was suddenly dizzy and far too aware of the way his hair was stuck against the nape of his neck with sweat. Breathing. He needed to start breathing.
Taking a long, shaky breath, Peter listened as the two inside the kitchen kept talking without fully processing their words.

What was going on here? Why was Lisa in the kitchen? Their next meeting wasn't due until next week, and even if that wasn't true, Lisa didn't know about the kitchen; they had always met at the Ming Express. Unless... Unless she had pretended to not know?

...But that didn't make any sense, did it?

That last question washed over him like a bucket of cold water. Right. Right! It didn't make sense! They met because she needed help finding Donny. That was real. The desperation had been real, he was sure of it. And if she personally knew Red Hood, then she would have gone to him directly, right? He was a known hero for the city; he would have helped. He wouldn’t have forced her to speak with Peter instead of helping... Right?

Tim told him about how people talked about him on social media. Lisa could have connected the dots and simply assumed that she could find him here and come visit him because... Because-? For some reason he still didn't know, but that didn't make it wrong.

He couldn't go around pointing fingers at others just because he could. He needed to think things through before causing himself heart attacks over nothing.

That's what this was: Nothing.

He knew nothing about why Lisa was here or why the kitchen was open. As far as he knew, it could have been a coincidence, and even if it was a little suspicious, he couldn't accuse anyone of anything before hearing them out. Yeah, that's what he needed to do – Ask and listen.

He took a moment to take a deep breath.

One. He has at least one person on his side. No secrets. No spying.

The amount of relief that thought brought him left him exhausted. Who would have thought that this matter was going to affect him this much? He felt almost childish with how giddy he was.

Taking one last breath, Peter steeled himself and walked to the open door to take a peek inside.

One of the tables had been dragged to the middle of the room, and a plastic bag was over it with what Peter assumed was a food container. Lisa and Hector were using two of the plastic chairs.
Even if she was relaxed, Lisa still had her characteristic frown, which relaxed him a little; it was a twisted logic, but if she seemed to be as angry as always, then that meant that everything should be alright on her end.

On the other side of the table, Hector had practically melted into his chair, his whole body relaxed while he nodded along to whatever Lisa was telling him. He smiled placidly even when the telltales of exhaustion exuded out of him – It must have been a busy day in the kitchen if he looked like that, but at least he didn't look like he had a problem. On the contrary, Hector barely seemed present, half asleep on the chair.

Nothing seemed to be wrong, both were just there... Talking. Why did they leave the lights off? Peter couldn't tell, but at least he knew how to break the ice.

He reached inside and turned the lights on.

“It's way more romantic if you light candles, you know?” He teased.

Both of them blinked several times at him, squinting their eyes in clear discomfort from the sudden change in lighting. Then recognition flashed on both of their faces.

“You. Moterfucking. Idiot.” Lisa was up in a blink. “What were you thinking?”

She walked to him, stomping into his personal space with a dangerous glare in her eyes. Peter took a few steps back while she kept advancing, aggressively poking at his chest with each word, hitting whatever was still broken inside of him every time she did.

“Um” Peter tried to think of what to say, something to defend himself because, at this point? She could be talking about a lot of things.

Lisa didn't give him the opportunity.

“Shut up! Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting here for you? No, you don't! Because you're a dumb idiot! God! And I thought today was going to be a good day! But you want to know what I saw in the news when I got back from class? You! Being a fucking jackass fighting against motherfucking Bane of all people! Do you have a death wish? Because if you do, I can totally help and save you the embarrassment of doing this in front. Of the whole. City!”

Peter glanced at Hector for help and then grimaced when he remembered that the man couldn't see him under the mask, so he started turning his head in his direction-

“Oh, don't.” She snarled at him, snapping his attention back to her. “Don't look at him, he's not going to help you. I'm the one talking to you- Do you even have anything to say?” Peter opened his mouth, not really sure of what he was going to say, but closed it when Lisa growled at him. “You don't, do you? Were you even thinking when you decided to throw yourself at that psychopath? Did it ever cross your mind that throwing yourself at a train would be easier? Huh? Aren’t you going to say something? Speak the fuck up! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Peter blinked dumbly at her, speechless. He... Wasn't exactly sure what to say to any of that, but it made him feel slightly flustered if not wrongfooted; it made him think of Tony and his outbursts of anger whenever Peter did something questionable.

It never occurred to him that anyone would be worried for him. Angry? Without a doubt, Dave was going to have his head once he got word of what happened. But concerned? The realization left a strange taste in his mouth.
And Lisa was still here, glaring at him, fully expecting an answer, and, oh boy, he didn't have anything prepared for this, but he should at least give it a try.

“Trains don't hit that hard,” he blurted out and instantly regretted it.

Hector choked on air and then started clacking, almost falling from the chair in the process. Lisa didn't think twice and punched him as hard as she could without doing any real damage. She still managed to hit one of those sore spots from the fight.

“Why. Are. You. So. Dumb?” She marked each word with a punch, clearly losing the rest of her patience. Fortunately, it also looked like she lost her bloodlust on the last word since it didn’t hurt as much as the others; she punched him a few more times and then lost all of her steam, simply frowning at him as if waiting for something, as if Peter had forgotten his lines in their play – Peter still didn’t know what to say or even what she wanted from him and Lisa should've realized it because she let out a huff and looked away.

“It's not fun when you don't fight back,” she muttered.

“I'm sorry?”

Her head snapped back at him, her glare still present, but she wasn't the one to speak this time.

“She's not the only one, you know?” Hector finally stopped laughing and was trying to get up from the floor. “You had us all worried. I was starting to think that I would need to break the news to Dave.”

Oh.

That was a mental image that he did not need.

“Don't take it personally, but why are you here?”

Hector lifted the plastic bag for a second and left it back on the table.

“The restaurant Dave works at is closed; they need to replace the windows or something. He wanted to be the one here to scream at you, but you're lucky he had something else to do.” He sat down again, slowly taking out the plastic container and opening it to reveal a ridiculously long sandwich and a small portion of spaghetti on the side. “Asked me to wait here for when you came back so you can eat something.”

Peter remained silent, trying to process what Hector had just told him.

Dave told him... to wait for him? Why? The cat was out of the bag. The truth was out and the others knew Peter knew about it. There was no need for them to pretend to be friendly with him.

“I thought-” He stopped himself, giving a quick glance at Lisa. She didn't know the rest of the staff worked for Red Hood, but he still wanted to ask. Why? Why wait for him? Dave had done the same the other day, but that was before Peter told them he knew.

Spider-man was an easy assignment for them, right? Keep an eye on him and report whatever he does to Red Hood, so why wait? Why act as if they were close?

It was confusing, and it kind of hurt.

Why do it if it wasn't real?

“Don't think too hard about it, kid.” Hector waved his hand dismissively, as if he knew exactly what Peter was thinking. “Don't tell Belinda, but do you want me to put the spaghetti on the stove for a bit? Cold doesn't taste that bad, but we have full access to the kitchen right now, so we might as well.”

Still a little dazed, he nodded. Hector nodded back and took the container with him back to the kitchen, leaving the sandwich on the table over a piece of parchment paper.

Peter lifted the upper bread and saw that it was a pepperoni sandwich with melted cheese and extra peppers. He knew exactly from where Hector had bought it – There was a small store four streets to the west, a family business that was too small to be able to be a restaurant, but it always smelled so good. He patrolled around the place often just to get a quick sniff of what they were cooking.

“Well?” Lisa startled him back to the present. “Don't you dare say you don't want it. We had to walk there to get the stupid sandwich.”

She was standing behind him with her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, while she stared at him expectantly.

“Wait, you went too?” It was hard to hide his surprise, and, honestly, he wasn't sure why he was trying to do so. This whole conversation had been one shock after another. “Why?”

Lisa huffed as if the answer was obvious. “I got here when your angry friend was still around. He was hysterical, but he still didn't want to leave in case you arrived, so he sent Hector and me to get something for you.” Her frown deepened, and she whispered sharply, “You're too old to get spoiled like this. I wouldn't get used to it either; people don't do things like this out of the goodness of their hearts. Not in Gotham”

When she was done talking, she gave a curt nod in the direction of Hector, and while her words came out rough, Peter knew to see it as the concerned warning it was. It made sense that she would ask him to be on the lookout, given her personal experiences with the adults in her life, and she wasn't exactly wrong, but Peter could only imagine what sort of scenarios she had in mind and the thought made him shiver.

Peter let out a sigh and nodded.

“I'll keep an eye open,” He assured her, “but things are not what you think.”

Lisa scoffed at the comment. “Yeah, of course.”

The conversation was cut short when Hector came back with a paper plate and a styrofoam cup.

“Where do you want this? We have the main table,” he pointed to the table Lisa and he had been using to wait, “behind the towers of chairs, or under the other tables. I can also offer the freezer, but if the door gets stuck, I'm not getting you out.”

“I think I'll take it under the other tables.” Peter gratefully took the plate and the cup from Hector and also added the sandwich to the plate. “I'll be right back.”

“Don't choke on it, kid, I have the rest of the night free.”

Peter walked away from them and crawled under the tables that were pushed against the wall. The spaghetti was gone in a heartbeat, but he took his time to savor the sandwich despite the hunger; he might have the money now, yet twenty bucks weren't going to last long, and Peter already had big plans for them, so this was going to be his only opportunity to get a taste for now.

He quietly listened while Lisa complained out loud about his recklessness and outright death wish to Hector, making pointed comments that were clearly directed at him, yet Peter decided not to take them personally.

In the end, Peter didn’t have a lot of time to participate in the conversation since Lisa announced she needed to go back home and finish her homework. It was rather late, so Peter offered to walk her to the station, but she immediately shot him down, giving him a once-over with such open disapproval that he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

“Did you already see yourself in the mirror?” She chided him. “I don’t need you, so get lost.”

Without another word, she turned around and started walking, leaving Peter speechless for the last time that day. Hector chuckled beside him once Lisa turned at the end of the street and gave him a couple of pats on the back. “She sounds like a good friend.”

“Yeah,” Peter scratched the back of his head, wondering if he should tail her just in case. “I just wish she wasn’t so mean.”

Hector let out a loud snort and walked back into the building. “Good luck with that, friendly never survives in Gotham. If you think about it, it's best this way.”

“Yeah? Why?” Peter followed him, giving a hand to move the table to the side with the others.

“Because you know she can fight,” Hector answered matter-of-factly. “This city isn’t going to eat her alive. ”

Peter nodded, but the wording left a bitter taste in his mouth. Something about it just sounded wrong.

“What? You don’t like that?” Hector mocked him, already walking to the front door. Keys in hand. “Not every girl is going to be a damsel in distress.”

“It’s not that,” Giving one last glance at the building, Peter went to check the dishes Hector had used for the spaghetti, but he found them already cleaned and left to dry. When he walked back to the main room, Hector was already waiting for him, so he could close. “I just can’t help but worry. Gotham is not exactly safe at any time of the day, but even less at night.”

Hector raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed by Peter’s words.

“All that babysitting others is going to rot your brain, kid.” Hector pulled him to the side and started the quick but complicated ritual of closing the front door. “Worry for yourself first, or you’re going to end up dead.”

Peter wanted to argue back, let Hector know that he could take care of himself, but years of experience whispered to him that it would be a bad idea – Peter would tell him, Hector would fire back, and they would end up stuck in an endless loop until one of them ended exasperated or walked away. Besides, he could tell that Hector had good intentions despite the whole spying ordeal.

What a wild thing to say.

Hiding his hands in the pockets of his sweater, he let out a short sigh. “I'm not small enough to get squashed, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Squashed?”

“Don't make me explain the joke, it's less funny that way.”

Hector scrunched his nose and turned away. “Whatever you say. Are you heading home?”

“Don't tell Dave, but I'm going to the hospital.” Hector’s head snapped back to him, and Peter rushed to end his sentence before the man could say anything. “It's nothing serious! I just want a general check-up. ”

Still, Hector was not having it. “Bullshit, kid. What did you break?”

“Nothing!” Peter insisted, but his voice came out one level higher, making it sound forced.

Hector rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking like the world was going extremely wrong. “You do realize I need to tell this to Red Hood.”

“Tell him whatever you want, but don't tell Dave.” Peter pleaded, already imagining how bad the disappointed glare was going to be after his fight with Bane. To add his injuries on top of that? Not only that, but he still wanted to have that conversation about his sudden change in the last couple of days...

His next conversation with Dave was going to be so uncomfortable.

“Dave's not the one you should be worried about,” Hector let out an amused snort.

“You say that, but Red Hood is not the one working in the kitchen.”

“I guess you're right,” Hector hummed. “I would offer you a ride, but I don't have a ride of my own.”

“It’s alright, it's not even that far.”

“I'll take your word, just don't tell the others.” The man smiled at him complicitly and waved him goodbye. Hector turned around and walked away, looking back just once before continuing his walk, leaving Peter alone.

Peter took a deep breath and, after three seconds, he let out all the air in his lungs.

That had gone quite well. He hadn't even noticed it, but he had been dreading coming back to the kitchen; in his mind, everyone was going to drop the act and start treating him like they didn't know him, yet Hector had acted like nothing had changed...

Maybe he had been exaggerating. Maybe their arrangement wasn't a big deal...

He shook his head and started walking.

Was he hearing himself? No matter how much he wanted to tell himself that it was alright, he wasn't stupid enough to believe it. He could enjoy the friendliness of the group, but it would be a mistake to believe it was more than that. And yet, it was... It was better than nothing, and Peter- He wanted it to be real.
He could work with this, even more now that he knew that they would continue treating him the same as before. Maybe it was a little extreme to exchange his privacy to have this twisted thing he so desperately wanted to call friendship, but it was a good enough arrangement...

Hector was right; he probably shouldn't think too hard about it.

Relationships were complicated and messy; he had seen it firsthand with the Avengers. They had never been the ideal in how well they got along with others, but they managed to make it work, the same way May always managed to make things work with others. As confusing as it was, Peter could make it work too.

Yeah, he could make it work.

It didn't need to be friendship; it just needed to be friendly.

Getting to the hospital took a little bit longer than necessary, mostly because he wasn't in the mood of running around. His healing was doing the heavy lifting, but even like that, he felt exhausted and sore to the core, something that was exacerbated by the long walk.

Walking to the front desk and asking for Doctor Thompkins was easy enough, and the nurse was really kind while informing him that the doctor wasn't around right now due to a house visit, but that he was free to wait for her. Not wanting to walk back out immediately after arriving, Peter nodded and took a seat in the waiting room.

As always, the hospital wasn’t quiet despite the waiting room being almost empty. The words and pleas of the patients on the upper floors reverberated through the halls, a constant reminder of the lives surrounding him. But at least he wasn't lonely.

Giving himself something to do, he started planning what he was going to do once he went back home. Doing a scavenger hunt for scraps he could use for his shooters was non-negotiable, yet there were other things he wanted to do – He still needed to move his things to the basement, along with a mattress. Actually, the cardboard boxes were stacking up already, so it would be a good idea to start trying to insulate the basement before moving anything. The street library was also on hold, although, now that he thinks about it... Maybe leaving it on hold for a little longer would be better.

None of the heartbeats that came to the building stayed around during the day, and he hadn't heard them at the kitchen. There were probably more places where they could get something to eat, but that small fact was bothering him.

Instead of the library, he could work on a small box of supplies: clean blankets so they wouldn't need to use the ones covered in soot, snacks and food that they could enjoy, water, or maybe juice. Socks were critical so they wouldn't be cold like him during the early morning.
Twenty dollars might be too little for all of that, but it would be a better start than a library that they might not be able to use because they don't know how to read.

The library could always come later, but food and water were a priority.

“Spider?”

Peter jolted in his seat, surprised to see Doctor Thompkins standing before him. She looked exhausted and a little disheveled, like she had been running.

He blinked and then processed that she was talking to him. “Ah, sorry, but it's Spider-man”

The doctor didn't seem to be expecting that answer because she paused, a puzzled stare that lasted for a second until she let it go. “Sorry, I was told that was your name.”

“Bet it was Boss who told you, he has a weird fixation with not knowing my name.” He smiled at her while getting up from the chair. “I already told him that is Spider-man, but he’s kind of stubborn.”

Doctor Thompkins nodded briefly, and she took a business-y look. “Are you here for a checkup?”

“Yeah, I-”

“Fought Bane this morning and might have broken something. I was expecting you a little bit earlier,” She ended for him. Her face wasn't exactly stern, but there was something hard in them that made Peter recoil in guilt.

“How does everyone know?”

Thompkins raised an eyebrow at him. “You appeared in the news. You haven't seen the videos?”

“Videos?” Peter parroted.

Peter balanced his weight from one leg to the other, awkwardly waiting for the doctor to say something. She frowned subtly but didn't say why. After a brief second, she waved at him to follow her and turned around.
Her heels clicked through the hallway until they reached the same room they had used last time. At her request, Peter walked inside and sat down in the first place he found, knowing that she would have him standing back up in no time.

“I want to do a general checkup, to see how you are holding after this morning,” She explained, her hands busy trying to find something inside the cabinets. “Please take off your sweater. I’ll examine you in a moment.”

Without a word, Peter took off his sweater and left it in his lap, briefly staring at the huge dark stain on the back of it. The vague memory of Tim mentioning blood came back, standing front and center in his mind. It honestly explained a few things and, hopefully, Doctor Thompkins wouldn't see it.

He quietly turned the sweater in his lap, so the stain would be out of sight.

“Are you ready?” She had a stethoscope in her hands. Peter hoped it wasn't too cold and nodded. “Good. Anything I need to know before I start?”

“Um,” Well, he wasn't expecting that question, but at least he knew what to say. “I may have some broken or bruised ribs? They've been bothering me since this morning, Ah! But it’s not that bad anymore! My healing has been consistently working in the background, so you might not find anything.”

The doctor stared at him, a blank expression on her face. “You have a healing factor?” Peter nodded.”In some cases, a healing factor comes with a faster metabolism. Does this apply to you?” Peter nodded again. The woman passed her weight from one leg to the other. “Does it affect the effectiveness of anesthetics?”

Was she going to give him painkillers? But he just told her that it wasn't that bad anymore... Although he wouldn't say no if she did. “Yes. I need higher doses, and it doesn't last as long.”

“So, last time you came-”

Last time?

The memory hit him like a brick. Last time he was here, sitting in the same place, when he still had the gunshot biting at his thigh like it wanted him dead. She had given him some medicine after cleaning and closing his wound, asking just the necessary questions because he had been too uncomfortable under her gaze.

At the time, he was so focused on other things that it never crossed his mind to mention it.

Peter shrank in his seat, feeling his cheeks warm.

“Anything else I need to know as your primary caregiver?” At least Doctor Thompkins seemed to understand that it wasn't done on purpose, keeping her professionalism intact.

Peter tried to do the same. “I actually wanted to talk with you about that. I might be wrong, but I think I might be burning calories faster than before.”

The doctor’s eyes shone with interest, and she gently put the stethoscope aside to give Peter all her attention. “How so?”

“So, ever since I got here, I’ve been having to skip meals, but not that many, just- The usual for someone like me, I guess.” He shrugged. That was a complete lie; he had been skipping more than a couple of meals, but he hoped that the doctor could put two and two together without starting a new argument about his living arrangements. “I lost some weight because of that, but yesterday I noticed that it was more? More than normal? I'm not so sure how to explain it, but I wanted to see if you could run some tests? See if everything is good?”

The woman remained quiet for a moment, letting out a contemplative hum while she weighed his words.

“We could run some tests to see your general state,” She explained slowly. “However, the hospital isn't used to treating metas, and without a previous profile, it's going to be hard to know the metrics that would be normal for you.”

“Oh. Oh! That's alright! I memorized that information since Bru- a friend told me it was important.”

“You know all your metrics?”

“The average, at least.” He added sheepishly. “But I need to see the list. I don't remember the names by heart, but I can jot them down if I see them.”

“That's impressive.” She smiled at him, and while it was warm, there was something small and far too gentle in it. “I can run the tests, still, I would like to share the results with a colleague of mine who has more experience with metas with faster metabolism. Their opinion would be valuable in case we find something amiss in your results.”

Peter bit his lower lip, considering the doctor's request. Would it be needed? He had never had an issue back home with normal checkups, and while he sometimes got specialized care from Tony, his own metrics weren't that different from a normal human. Not only that, it rubbed him the wrong way to share any information about himself; his stomach was already twisting from the anxiety it gave him to share the bare minimum with the doctor. The prospect of giving that and more to someone else made him dizzy with worry.

Still, it sounded too good not to consider it. “...Would that be covered by my job’s healthcare?”

For some reason, she didn't answer right away. The doctor paused, her eyes looking distant for a second before focusing back in the present, as if remembering something.

“Yes,” She nodded. “I'm sure it would be covered. If we do find something wrong, I can also make sure to transfer you to a hospital that can satisfy your needs, even if it’s out of Gotham.”

Hold on-

“Out of Gotham?”

“My colleague is based in Star City. While I don't think we can transfer you to her hospital, she has worked in Metropolis for special cases; we can arrange so that she can work your case from there.”

Leaving Gotham...

He could leave? Just like that?

“I-” Don't think I can leave, he wanted to say, but cut himself off before the words came out of his mouth.

Why not? He had been here for less than a month; this afternoon he had been thinking how easy it would be to leave if the heroes of the city asked him to go.
But that had been a made-up scenario in his head; this felt more solid and real, even if it wasn't happening. Yet, that was the issue, wasn't it? He knew something was wrong with him, something that wasn't quite right ever since he got to this dimension; it was subtle and most of the time he didn't even remember it, but the little details were starting to stack up, and while they didn't make an impressive pile of proof, the tower would fall sooner or later.

Something was going to appear in the results, and Peter was scared of it.

It was strange to realize that despite his short stay and the overwhelming reasons to be looking for a way out, he didn't want to go. It felt childish and selfish to not jump at the opportunity, and yet, having the option right in front of him made his heart flounder.
The anxiety of leaving the little he knew would tip over the brittle balance he managed to create for himself, and the realization had him hunching over with embarrassment – He was a hero. He was Spider-man. Why couldn't he do what was needed?

He tried to force himself to nod and simply accept the offer, yet his body refused to comply. The world started to run circles around him, and Peter finally noticed that he wasn't breathing. He closed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

As embarrassing as it was, he couldn't accept.

“No,” He tried to sound firm despite the weird and oppressive weight forming at the base of his gut. “I would prefer you didn't, and honestly, let's just forget the tests! You know how it is, new place, new worries. The stress of moving must be getting to me.” His voice wavered, and he immediately stood up from his place, ready to leave. “Actually, you know what? Let's shelve the checkup, I'm feeling ok! One power nap and I'll be fresh for the day.”

Peter started walking towards the door while feeling like an anxious mess, yet one hand on his shoulder and a light squeeze was enough to make him falter. His head snapped to her eyes, and the sight of sincere concern sobered him up in an instant.

Reluctantly, he returned to his seat.

“I won't do any tests if you don't want to,” she started, “but at least let me do the checkup. I know you’re feeling better, but it would be best to ensure that your bones are healing properly.”

Peter didn't answer, so sure that he would say all the wrong things if he did so, but cooperated with all the small requests the doctor made during the checkup. It was quick and efficient, slowing down only when Peter hesitated to follow instructions, yet Doctor Thompkins never showed any signs of her surely-thinning patience.
There was no need for any stitching, although she didn't like finding the dried blood on the back of his head. Since Peter wouldn't take his mask off, she pressed around the area with two fingers, frequently asking him if it hurt.

When she was done, she gave him some painkillers to help with the discomfort in his chest and advised him to rest at least until the next morning before doing any type of exercise.

“If the discomfort continues, come back and I'll check you again, understood?” A nod. “And I'm serious about taking the night. Even with accelerated healing, your body needs to rest, so no running on rooftops until tomorrow.” Another nod.

Whatever she gave him, hit almost instantly and without the pain in the way (which he wasn't even aware of until it was gone), the exhaustion of the day caught up to him. She let him go with a few more warnings, but the last smile she offered him seemed... sad, like she didn’t fully expect Peter to listen.

The sun was gone already when he got out of the hospital, and the dark void above him offered no comfort; it was just up there, mocking him for having to walk back with its lack of stars.

Once he got home, Peter knew that he wasn't going to do anything else that night. He was tired, medicated, and just didn't care enough to not go directly to bed and sleep through the night. Fuck it, he was also sleeping through the morning... No, wait, he couldn't do that. He needed to go to work.

What day is tomorrow? Was it truck day?

...He could discover it later. Right now, it was nap time.

 

 

 

 

 

Something was off.

Peter woke up with an immense sense of deja-vu and annoyance.

Slowly, he sat on the bed, his hands already searching for his mask and rolling it down his face so it would cover him.

He blinked a few times while the world around him came back into focus. The room was still shrouded in darkness, and the angle of the shadows hadn't shifted too much; his best bet was that he had slept between two or three hours, and he wasn't happy about it.

This was the second time that his spider-sense had woken him up at an ungodly hour of the night because someone was parading through his home, and he didn't appreciate it. Not only that, but this was the soft but constant warning that something was lurking in the shadows – In other words, he wasn't in any immediate danger, so he could simply ignore it and go back to sleep.

Letting out a groan, Peter got out of bed.

Taking his time to struggle with his shoelaces, he allowed his groggy mind to finish waking up. If this was just one of the kids, then he could simply give them a hand before going back to sleep, but given that his spider-sense was the one to wake him up, the chances of a fight in his near future were high, and he was going to need the alertness.

With his shoes tied up, Peter took a deep breath and finally concentrated on the constant background noise that his senses were feeding him.

There were seven small heartbeats spread between the five buildings, the same ones he had heard before falling asleep, but there was a solid and steady heartbeat coming from the building to his side, somewhere on the fourth floor.
The discovery finished waking him up because, by experience, that familiar heartbeat was Red Hood.

Peter could feel a thin layer of sweat beginning to cover his hands while he stood in the middle of his room.

Had he done something?

The question was absurd because, yes, he had done a few things that would have landed him in trouble with Tony back home. The real question was what of everything Peter had done made the man come to the building? Because there was no doubt in his mind that Red Hood was here for him.
No other incident had happened at the building in the last week, and context clues were so obvious that Peter was surprised it took this long for someone to piece them together.

Red Hood clearly didn't know his exact location; he would have come into his room demanding explanations if he did. Even if he knew Peter was somewhere in the building, Peter still had the element of surprise. The hunt- Wow, wow, wow. No. No, no, no. What? No! He was not doing that!

Peter did the mental equivalent of slapping the hand of that bratty side of his mind, oddly horrified that he didn't even feel it waking up alongside him. He did his best to silence it and focused on the good piece of information that mattered: Red Hood didn't know where he was.

While it wasn't a lot, given that the man knew enough to come to the buildings to try and find him, it still gave him some comfort.

So, what was he going to do now?

It wasn't ideal... But Peter was sure that he could use this to his advantage. If he had learned anything that morning was that he needed to start working towards his goals, and establishing communication with the local heroes was one of them. While his previous interactions with Red Hood were rocky at best, Peter had done his best to try to offer something back to let the man know he was willing to cooperate if needed.

Of course, that was probably not enough, and the accidental demolition of a building must have put Peter on a black list. But he could still save this, right? In the end, Red Hood hadn't come to the building, guns blasting while he screamed at Peter to get out of his city.

...

Maybe a quick reconnaissance mission before talking with the man would be a good idea. Just to soothe his nerves.

Letting out a sigh, Peter crawled out of the room from the nearest window and stealthily moved from one building to the next, slowly making his way to where he could hear the quiet steps.

He remained still and out of sight while he attentively listened to Red Hood passing inside. The man was anxiously muttering to himself; however, his whispers came out so low that they were barely the ghost of words in Peter's ears.
As weird as that was, Peter concentrated on the other details he could make out, like how his steps were slightly lighter than usual and how the prevailing rattling of metal was missing except for something small- It might be subtle, but there was something that moved ever so slightly inside his right boot.

All of that was good to know, even if he wouldn't get the complete picture until he actually laid eyes on the man, but what truly started making him nervous was the return of the cracking noise he had heard the first time Red Hood had been in the building.

Glad to know that the heroes of Gotham knew when to carry a taser, although that was a crazy high voltage if true, and would suck to get hit with that.

Knowing he wouldn't get more from hearing and not being dumb enough to crawl through the window and risk startling the man with the stupidly high-voltage taser, Peter descended to the third floor and climbed back inside the building.

He took a moment to steel himself, taking a few deep breaths.

This was it. They were going to have an actual formal conversation, and Peter was going to do his best to establish some sort of professional relationship so he could build up to actually asking for help. Easy peasy, right? He had done so before, although Tony had been the one to open the line first, and Peter had all the reasons to follow him back then- No, no, no, no. He could do it. Even if he wasn't the first one to reach out, Peter had been good enough to maintain that relationship. He wasn't fourteen anymore, and he has experience working with a team. This was going to be a breeze.

He said that, but the moment he looked up and found himself already standing in front of the door to the apartment where Red Hood was, he froze.

The mere idea of opening the door sent a wave of dizziness through his body, but he didn't back down. He was going to do this, and it was going to end well or so help him.

With determination, he opened the door to the apartment and said, “Scavenging this late? I know of a room that for sure has your shoe number.”

Red Hood stopped passing the moment he heard the door and turned to stare at Peter in a swift motion.

The man looked different without his jacket or the red vest, and while he was still sporting the heavily armored black top, he looked concerningly vulnerable without them. The holsters that were usually strapped to his tights were also missing, leaving his legs unusually bare.

Somehow, despite wearing an all black outfit with the vibrant red helmet as the only splash of color, Red Hood looked casual.

Peter wasn't sure what to think of it.

“Spider” Red Hood greeted him with a tone that meant all business.

Was he supposed to feel intimidated? Or was this Red Hood's way to let him know that he came in peace? Was he- Did he think so little of Peter that he sincerely thought he didn't need anything else to bring him down? I mean, that was probably the most logical outcome, but it still stabbed at his pride.

“Night, man,” Peter greeted him back cheerfully, “What brings you to my side of the pond?”

“We need to tal-” The man started, but paused when Peter raised a hand to indicate him to stop.

Three doors down the hallway, two of the heartbeats had woken up and became agitated the moment Red Hood spoke.

Peter felt guilty about it. He didn't consider the possibility of them waking up in the middle of their conversation. They were probably terrified of hearing a stranger so close to their door and were scrambling to find a way out of there. Peter couldn’t allow them to be scared here; it would defeat the purpose of them using the building as a pit stop.

“Sorry, but not here. You're scaring the kids,” He declared, leaving no space for negotiations. And as if they were waiting for his cue, the sound of a door being slammed at the end of the hallway resonated. The sound seemed to surprise Red Hood. “Follow me.”

He walked out of the apartment not knowing where else to move their conversation, and the closer they got to the staircase, the more aware he was of the man silently following him.
Every warning to never give an enemy his back was making him squirm on the inside, but he didn't want to raise tensions by doing anything that would remotely suggest Red Hood would attack him, so he was stuck feeling extremely uncomfortable while he tried to focus on where they were going.

Going to a different floor or apartment would probably end up the same, and Peter would be insane if he ever brought both of them down to the basement. Getting scolded by The Red Hood in the middle of the street summoned a ridiculous mental image that he would like to avoid, so that option was out of the question.

That left the rooftop.

They weren't even halfway through the first floor when Red Hood spoke.

“Cozy place you have in here. How did you end up with kids sleeping in this dead trap?” The tone was supposed to be casual... probably. Still, it dripped disapproval even with the voice modulator.

“Why? Interested in a spot?” Peter answered back playfully, not even bothering to turn around to stare at the man. “I can put on a good word for you to the landlord.”

“Spider”

Peter let out a sigh and paused, turning around to look at the man.

“Do you really want me to kick them out?” The question was sincere. Peter had heard things from his neighbors about how Red Hood had a weak spot for kids and women, about how he had deliberately set up shop in a place everyone called Crime Alley. He had deliberately made himself the guardian of the poorest side of Gotham, so clearly, he knew that people sometimes don't have better choices. “There's a reason they come here instead of a shelter.”

Was he irritated? Yes, but he kept his voice light despite it. There was a 50% chance that he was feeling especially frustrated because he was sleep-deprived and not because Red Hood might want to kick out all of Peter's guests. There was no way that's what the man was hinting at, but the lack of sleep and the weight of life were crushing his common sense, and he didn't feel above squaring up so people would stop questioning his living conditions, even if it was done indirectly.

“This place is even worse than my childhood home, and that's saying something.” Peter was this close to kicking him down the stairs, which probably showed on his body language, because Red Hood lazily raised his hands. “Just telling it as I see it, kid. As hard to believe as it sounds, I didn't come here to start a fight.”

“I know,” Peter lied. “You came almost unarmed, except for whatever is in your boot.”

“How did-?”

“Should I assume that you came with even more aces up your sleeves?” Peter pointedly stared at him, already knowing the answer. Red Hood stayed silent. “Oh, that doesn't sound good for me.” He turned around and continued climbing the stairs. “Not that I can judge you, the world really is that crazy. I would be surprised if you didn't come prepared to kick my ass as soon as I act remotely suspicious.”

“You sound far too calm for someone who thinks his ass is going to get kicked.”

“It's called accepting destiny,” Peter turned for a moment to glance at Red Hood, “And while I don't think I can win a one-on-one against you, I'm pretty sure I can make you regret it.”

“That’s a bold statement, kid. You sure you can back it up?” His tone might have been amused, but Peter grinned at the sight of the man tensing under his barely-disguised threat.

If Red Hood was open for some good old bantering without throwing a punch in the process, then he couldn't be that angry with him, right? Still, Peter should probably stop testing him.

Peter turned back and continued climbing the stairs.

“You came only to talk, right? So I don't need to”

The door to the rooftop was slightly rusted, but a small push from Peter was enough to open it. He made a mental note to get a proper lock so the kids wouldn't be able to come up here to play around. His eyes landed on the edge of the roof.

Thinking about it, that should be among his top three priorities for tomorrow.

A shiver went down his spine the moment he felt the fresh breeze, and he hugged himself in an attempt to maintain the little warmth he still had. If he had known that they were going to end on the rooftop, then he would have put on a second sweater.

"So,” He turned around once he reached the middle of the roof and tilted his head with curiosity, “to what do I owe this visit?"

Red Hood took the invitation and went straight to the point. "I told you to leave the big shots to me."

"You did," Peter conceded. "But you never gave me your number, and I don't have a cellphone, but you probably already knew that since all the people I talk to are on your paycheck."

Ok, yes, he was being difficult, exactly the opposite of what he told himself to stop doing, but he was in the mood of being petty, and, apparently, he still wasn't over that bit of information.

"They told you," it was probably meant to be a question, yet Red Hood said it as a cold and hard fact, so Peter nodded.

"I couldn't just stay with what you told me, so I asked- Well, I asked Dave and then, for some reason, everyone followed his lead. I'm still surprised they did that."

Saying it out loud felt like a fever dream. Boss was right, he should raise his standards because talking with the man who paid the people he thought were his friends to spy on him with the full intention to create some sort of professional relationship was bizarre, even for Peter. How did he end up like this?

Life was full of surprises.

He strolled across the roof while he talked until he reached the edge of the roof and decided to take a seat. This looked like it would either be a long talk or it would end with them punching each other lights out, so he might as well make himself comfortable.

Red Hood tracked his movements, slowly moving his head along with Peter, and when Peter took a seat at the edge, he... Flinched?

Huh?

"Kid, you need to-"

“Stop playing around and go home before I get myself killed. Stay close to the ground and build up my game, helping the little people.” Peter recited the words with ease, melancholy and mischief seeping into his voice. He wondered if Red Hood remembered his own words, although he might be confused by the second part if he did. “But I'm already here, I'm doing it, and I don't plan to stop. So what are we going to do?”

It was a gamble to be so direct about it, and surely he sounded like a cheeky brat, but if Peter had noticed anything, it was that Red Hood preferred to go to the point of things. Maybe Peter could get some points by trying to do the same.

“The hell do you mean by ‘what are we going to do’?” No cuss, no punch, just plain annoyance under each word. Peter could work with that.

“I’m not going to stop, but I can accept that you were here first. I'm sure we can come up with something so we both stay happy.”

Red Hood remained silent, and Peter could almost feel him narrowing his eyes at him.

“You want to make a deal?” The man scoffed with disbelief.

Peter grimaced, and since Red Hood couldn't see it, he shook his head. “No, not a deal. Not an understanding either, we don't know each other enough to come to an understanding. Let’s do the next best thing.”

“Which is?”

“A compromise,” He let out casually. “Name your conditions, I’ll name mine, and then we can find a middle ground.”

Red Hood crossed his arms. “What makes you think I'll accept?”

And that was the million-dollar question, right? What could Peter offer to make it worth it?

He had been repeating the question in his head since the conversation started, hoping that he could think of something worthwhile before reaching this point. And he did have things he could offer – His knowledge, especially of Tony’s technology, his enhanced strength, his labor, the promise of obedience and submission, and probably more that he wasn't considering.

But...

Was he really going to offer any of that? Would it be worth it? Would the heroes of this world be even interested in any of it?

If they did, would he go through with it?

He might have to, and it sucked. His position was shitty from any perspective, and it somehow felt like it was his fault, like he somehow managed to corner himself and now he needed to find a way out.

Agonizing over his next words, Peter squirmed in his place, lifting his legs and trying to end cross-legged so he would at least be physically comfortable. The movement made his body swing precariously over the edge for a brief moment, but he was able to catch himself before he could actually fall. It wasn't a concern for him at that moment; he had full confidence that nothing would happen to him, but Red Hood visibly lunged forward before reluctantly forcing himself to stay still.

“Kid, you need to-” He started talking, but cut himself off, ending up making a weird grunting sound that couldn't decide between being furious or exasperated. “Alright, ok. First condition. Get the fuck away from the ledge.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“You heard me, that’s my first condition.”

“T-That’s-” And then his mind caught up with the demand. “I’m not going to jump!”

“Get your ass over here or I'll do it myself.”

Peter grumbled but still stood up and walked back to the middle of the roof, leaving at least three arms of distance between him and Red Hood. “I can't believe you're still insisting on that.”

“I wouldn't if you didn't act like you ran from suicide watch.”

Peter crossed his arms, drummed his fingers three times, and then decided to let it go. It was a frustrating belief but considerably harmless, all things considered; if Red Hood insisted on thinking that way, then he could suit himself, Peter could bear it as long as it didn't stop him from being Spider-man.

“Alright, my first condition is that you can't ask me anything regarding my life. Not asking others to do it for you either.”

“Fine, but you’re on your own if they ask by themselves.” Red Hood agreed almost instantly, taking Peter by surprise. “Second condition is that you use this because I'm sick of playing hide and seek with you.”

The man threw something in his direction, and Peter grabbed it from the air. It was an earpiece that looked- Not exactly outdated, but certainly not like the ones from Stark Industries. It had a slim and elegant design, which led to its first red flag: if it was designed to be slim, why did it have a chunky piece at the end?

Peter poked at it and found that he couldn't separate it without proper tools or breaking it, so he threw it back to Red Hood.

“Why the tracking? If you wanna know where I buy dinner, all you need to do is ask.”

Red Hood caught the device and rolled it between his fingers for a moment, clearly considering something until he put it back into his pocket and threw something else.
When Peter caught it, he found that it was a different type of earpiece. This one did look a little outdated, but some scratches on the outer shell led him to believe that it had been modified at some point.

“That's the one I use with my men. The signal is encrypted, and I can set up a channel just for the two of us. Nothing fancy, but it has no tracking in it.”

That was... accommodating.

With no further complaints, Peter wordlessly slipped a hand under his mask and carefully put the device in his ear, taking a moment to properly push it in.

“It’s a little bit big,” he commented, “but it works for me. I’ll be civil and give you a heads up when I decide to gut it.”

“As long as I can still contact you, I don't care.”

Yeah, he could agree to that, so he nodded and then thought about a little bit more. “Just so we are clear, that's my second condition. No tracking. I'm not a fan of the gift you left in my clothes last time.”

“I got it, kid. What else?”

“Next time, don’t go inside. Call me so I can meet you on the rooftop.” Peter didn't hesitate with this one. “I don't want you scaring the kids; they deserve a good night of sleep.”

The man nodded instantly, as if he too had been thinking of that. “Yeah, you got it. What else?”

And that's when Peter reached a wall because, what else? What else? Weren’t those three conditions already too much? Peter tried to come up with a new condition, and while he could think of one or two, they felt unnecessary for now.

“That's- Yeah, that's it. That's everything.”

The man didn't seem to like that because he clicked his tongue loudly, making the sound coming from his helmet frizzle up, gritting at Peter’s ears. “Kid, those are the most barebones conditions you could’ve picked, and one of them is not even for you.”

“Isn’t that better for you?” The frustrated grunt Red Hood let out puzzled him even more. “Look, I just want my privacy-”

“No shit, Sherlock. I could assume that from the mask you never take off. You sure those are all your conditions?”

“For now, yeah.”

Red Hood parroted ‘For now’ as a low grunt that left clear his exasperation which, in all honesty, was starting to sound like Peter was missing some context because he couldn't understand why the man was so irked by it- Or well, he had expected for Red Hood to not like the idea from the start, but because Peter was pretty much telling him what to do, not because Peter wasn’t asking enough.

Was that weird? It totally was, right?

“You did a poor job of capturing Bane.”

Peter paused, getting whiplash from the sudden change in topic.

“Sorry?”

“You heard me, kid. Robin could have done the same without getting his ass kicked. How many bones did you break?"

Robin? The youngest of the group? Was Batman not the only one who could go against Bane?

Peter blinked.

That put the whole group under a new light, a terrifying new light. If even the youngest could take down someone like Bane, then Peter was way underprepared to offer anything to the group. Even worse, he was going to totally eat dirt whenever he decked it out with Red Hood, because at this point it wasn't a matter of ‘If’, but a solid ‘When’.

Still, he had his pride to defend. "I got him, no? Shouldn’t I get brownie points from that?"

Red Hood, of course, didn’t think the same. "You had the upper hand in strength. Why didn't you knock him out?"

"I did try! He kept getting back up! And injecting yourself with steroids is not going to make you invincible. There's a limit to how hard I can punch someone before I break something important." Peter hated how much it sounded like a little kid trying to defend himself, but the change in topic had come so out of left field. “He was a crazy good fighter, too. I bet he could’ve given Steve a run for his money on a bad day.” “Who-?” “Anyways! I got him, even without my webs, so I think I did good enough.”

Red Hood stayed silent for a moment, staring at Peter as if weighing his words.

"Your training is piss poor," Hood insulted him; however, he raised a hand to cut off Peter before he could complain. "You have a solid base, kid, but that’s not enough.”

Oh. That sounded like they were actually going somewhere. “So what are we going to do?”

The answer came as a punch that Peter almost didn’t see coming, but his senses were fast enough to duck out of the way. Red Hood made it as if he was going to throw another punch, yet he went for a kick in the head when Peter moved out of the way of the first attack. The kick landed right in the middle of his face and threw Peter out of balance.

He heard Red Hood huff, half in disapproval and half in amusement, when he saw Peter roll on the floor and stay on all fours, prepared to fight back.

“This is what we’re going to do,” The man declared, also preparing for the fight. “If you can’t learn not to stick your nose where no one is calling you, then I’m going to teach you how to properly kick some ass.”

“Please, like I don’t know how to do that.” There was certainly more bravado than confidence behind those words, but Peter would be lying if he said the idea of having a match with Red Hood didn’t excite him as much as it also scared him.

“Then prove it, squirt.”

Their first match ended just as fast as Peter expected, with him propped on the floor with his ass in the air while Red Hood made fun of him, but he couldn’t help but smile under his mask.

He lost count of how many times he got up, just to end up back on the cold floor of the roof, staring at the dark sky while he gathered himself and got up again. Red Hood didn’t pull his punches as much as Steve did, and he was absolutely meaner than Bucky with his observations each time he got Peter on the floor, but he was just as delighted as them whenever Peter managed to land a hit and get him on his knees – It never lasted long, just enough for a quick quip and then he was again rolling on the dirt, but it thrilled Peter to no end.
His racing heart and wild breathing, the sensation of the gravel under his skin. Each punch and kick that managed to land sent electric waves through his body, which was exhilarating without the dread of a serious fight. His heart knew all of these sensations, and it almost made him cry on the spot.

It was nostalgic.

Training with someone beside him shouldn’t be this emotional, it didn’t happen that often back home and, when it did, it was a short thing that hardly lasted an hour; yet, he truly had enjoyed it when Rodhey or Sam offered to burn some steam and give him pointers, or when Clint reached out to teach him how to better his aim. Tony wasn’t the best in hand-to-hand combat, but even he tried to teach him something when he realized that everyone else was stealing Peter twice a month to practice with them.

Peter had missed this. And of course it wasn’t the same, Red Hood’s style was too different from everyone else’s, and whenever he thought he could just pretend to be back home, the man would ground him back in reality by pointing out a mistake Peter made or mocking him for going down too fast. The familiar sensations grabbed his heart and firmly squeezed it regardless.

With shaky legs, he got back up again and glanced at the man on the other side of the roof. Red Hood had stopped immediately preparing for their matches some time ago, using each time he threw Peter away to rest, even if just for a second.

“I gotta give it to you, kid.” His voice sounded breathless even with the helmet on, and Peter took pride in how heavy his chest moved with each breath. “You really don’t know when to stay down.”

Peter let out a short and breathless laugh, all the more pleased for the compliment. “Don’t tell me- Don’t tell me you’re already tired”

“Fuck you,” Red Hood flicked him off and sat on the ground. “You were supposed to give up three hours ago.”

“Yeah? I thought you were teaching me how to kick your ass.”

The man flicked him off once more and lay down on the floor, his chest going up and down laboriously from the effort. Peter wasn’t far behind, allowing his legs to give up under him and collapse on the floor of the roof.

His body was sore again, and it crossed his mind that he wouldn’t be able to get up tomorrow – Actually, maybe he shouldn’t have done this after what Doctor Thompkins had told him.

Maybe they had overdone it a little bit.

The rumble of his stomach broke the silence between them, and Peter let out a groan at the unlucky timing. What time was it? If it were closer to six, he could just get up and walk to the kitchen, be on time for once in his life, and just wait until someone came and opened the place.

Red Hood let out a groan of his own while he pushed himself off the floor, clearly sore from their training session. He moved his head in circles, making his neck crack and letting out a sigh of relief with the motion; it seemed that their little bonding time had come to an end. Still, the man didn’t leave right away.

“I’ll take the stairs just this time,” Peter nodded, absolutely understanding and allowing this one exception. “Don’t go to work, kid. You’re banned until you actually get some sleep.”

“A little hypocritical coming from the one that woke me up in the middle of the night, don’t you think?”

“Whatever,” The man huffed and started walking to the stairs. “I’ll tell someone to bring you breakfast or something,” Peter thought that was it, but then the man paused at the front of the stairs and turned to Peter one last time. “Do you like hot dogs?”

“Hot dogs for breakfast?” Peter teased.

“Forget I asked.”

And Red Hood was gone.

Peter stayed on the floor of the roof for a while, taking deep breaths while he stared at the void above. He should get up and go back to his room- No, he should go check on the kids that got scared when they heard Red Hood, although, would they be scared of him? If they were still there, would they leave if he tried to speak with them?

He closed his eyes and listened to the world. The seven heartbeats were still there; two of them had moved to a completely different floor but remained inside. Good, that was good.

Another deep breath. He tried to open his eyes and push himself to stand up, yet his whole body felt as if he had been glued to the floor. Maybe he should have tried again, but he suddenly felt too exhausted, and, being realistic, there was no way he was going to go down the stairs with how weak he felt.

It was ok to just take a nap, right? Wait until he feels better, and then go down? Surely it was alright, and if not, well, there was no one there to tell him otherwise.

His mind wandered, latching onto the sound of several deep breaths under him. Light. Relaxed. Small. One of them moved in their sleep, momentarily making the ground gently crack, and then it stopped. Someone’s breathing hitched for a moment and then released it in soft snoring.

In the morning, they would be gone, but for now, Peter drifted to sleep, lulled by their sound.

Or so he thought.

A scream jolted him awake, and before he processed it, he was already rushing down the stairs to the second floor.
His legs brought him to the sound, and without thinking, he reached for the doorknob and- A quiet sob came from the inside, and Peter immediately went still.

On the other side of the door, somewhere in the back of the room, a kid was crying. They made choked sounds, like they were drowning in their tears, but they let out muffled whimpers with each sound, doing their best to try to be as silent as possible.

Peter pressed his forehead against the charred wood.

His heart wanted him to go inside and offer some words of comfort, or at least knock and see what he could do to help, but that wouldn't work, would it? The kids were here and not in a shelter for a reason; he couldn't risk scaring them away.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't do anything.

Taking a deep breath, Peter let go of the doorknob and walked away. Going back up to the apartment he had found Red Hood in was a nightmare, but he somehow managed to drag himself through the stairs and into the room, his eyes scanning the place until he found what he was looking for.
Over the blackened sofa was an equally stained plush. At this point, it was difficult to discern what it was supposed to be, but taking his gloves off revealed that the fluffiness of the toy remained intact. The plastic eyes had melted in the fire; thankfully, that didn't make the toy look any less than the soft plush it was.

He eagerly shook the thing until ash stopped shedding off the plush, and then he shook it some more.

When he was ready, he left the apartment as quietly as possible, but he was surprised to see two pairs of eyes peeking at him from the end of the hallway. They gasped when Peter glanced at them, but they didn't hide back into the room; instead, they frowned at him and at the thing Peter had in his hands.

Not knowing exactly what to do, Peter waved at them briefly and awkwardly turned around, walking to the stairs.

On the second floor, he gently left the toy at the front of the door and knocked.

He didn't wait to check if the kid even opened the door to peek outside and see the toy, but he wished that the loud cracking he heard was the kid discovering the offer.

Despite the exhaustion, Peter didn't go to sleep after that. The scream had rattled something inside him that left him restless, and it made it difficult to close his eyes without feeling like he was being followed.
A few times, he became convinced that someone was there with him, but no matter how fast he spun around, all he could find were the empty hallways. From what he could hear, the kids never left their rooms, finally finding solace in the silence of the night, and yet, the sensation of eyes burning the back of his head never abated.

Doing nothing would drive him crazy, so he decided to simply start his day early.

Peter roamed around the buildings gathering materials and things he thought could come in handy. He managed to find two tool kits that, while they were certainly missing some essential pieces, gave Peter something to work with. However, his efforts were focused on getting the ball rolling for the projects that were specifically for the buildings.
The first thing he did was to find a decent enough lock to close the access to the roof – While it was annoying how much Red Hood insisted on the matter, Peter was perceptive enough to take the man's fears as a warning of how often he found himself persuading people to come back from the edge. So! Lock it was, and he even went ahead to check all the other buildings to be sure the kids couldn't easily open the doors.

With that done, he focused on the idea of snacks.

There were an abundance of half-melted coolers here and there, but he managed to find two that weren't too broken and could still be closed and opened without too much effort. He brought them to one of the rooms and cleaned them profusely under the shower, making sure that none of the soot would remain inside; he would need to find a way to patch the small holes, but maybe if he got some clay... Anyway, that would need to wait until the boxes were dry and the stores were open.

Leaving the boxes behind to dry, he went down to the first floor and started cleaning the floor. The kids seemed to understand that they needed to avoid the building with the hole to the basement, and while they never stayed on one building, the one Peter used as his home was also the one that saw more foot traffic for some reason, so it was only logic that he would put the first boxes here and work his way to the other buildings.

And for that, it needed to be somewhat clean and safe.

To avoid sweeping the floor and filling the air with soot, Peter threw water around with whatever he could find and then swept the floor with something that was probably a broom. Maybe. Probably. At some point, at least... He had to add a piece of clothing that he was certain wouldn't fit him or any of the kids, so maybe it was just a weird stick.

By the time he was done with the first two floors, including the rooms, the sky already had gentle tones of baby blue and a thin line of bright golden at the bottom.

He went back for the coolers and brought them to the entrance. They certainly looked better now without all the soot, but they still looked somewhat depressing with the holes burned into the outer shell; luckily for everyone, Peter had found some acrylic paint in his room while he was trying to stash away the tool kits. There was no paintbrush, but Peter had never shied away from finger painting.

There were three colors: yellow, red, and blue. And he knew exactly what he was going to paint.

In big red letters, he spelled out ‘Snacks’ and tried his best to draw cookies and a water bottle in blue. To go along with the drawings, he made his own stylised version of chubby spiders with a red spiral for a body, six small, blue legs, and two blue lines at the top that were supposed to be the mouth, but the longer he looked at them, the more they looked like horns.
He tried to make the whole thing a little more colorful with yellow, making squiggly lines and dots around so they could complement the look. The end result looked like a birthday party card for a five-year-old which was immensely better than its previous look.

Happy with the first cooler, Peter pushed it to the side and started to work on the second one when he heard someone climbing up the steps of the building's entrance.

“Kid, what the fuck”

“Do you like it?” Peter pointed at the finished box without taking his eyes off the new spider he was painting.

“I was under the impression you were going to be asleep. Why are you doing arts n’ crafts?” Boss asked, mildly irritated. He did the smart thing and stayed outside of the building, probably glancing around and thinking how run-down the place looked. “I was supposed to just drop this off, not actually engage in conversation.”

The comment finally broke Peter’s concentration, and he basically jumped with joy when he saw the plastic bag in Boss's hand. Boss handed it to him without further comment, and Peter had to let out a hearty laugh when he looked inside and guessed what it was.

“What’s so funny?” Boss asked him, but his mouth was already curved into half a smile.

“Nothing, nothing,” Peter left the three hot dogs covered in copious amounts of aluminum to the side. “You didn't tell me if you liked it.”

Boss raised an eyebrow and took a quick glance at the box again. “Looks cute. You didn't answer my question either.”

“Red Hood came by in the middle of the night. I couldn't fall asleep after that.”

“Why? Did he tell you something?” Boss frowned lightly, looking confused at the prospect that anything bad had happened.

“Nah, he just wanted an excuse to kick my ass,” Peter shrugged. “We made some kind of rules? Yeah, let's call them that. We made some rules so we don't step on each other's toes.”

Boss narrowed his eyes at him, giving an assessing stare to Peter. Something that Peter said had upset him, but since it was too early and Peter was too exhausted to care, he just waited for the man to say something.

In the end, Boss let out a dissatisfied sigh. “You didn't just agree out of pressure, did you?”

Peter blinked. “No? I was the one with the idea. I'm just saying that he probably agreed so he could beat me in the process.”

“Kid, you keep talking like that's ok, but that just sounds concerning.” Boss rubbed his face with one hand. “Did you or did you not like the rules you came up with?”

“Don't worry, they're ok.” And as an afterthought, he added, “I know what I'm doing.”

“No one who knows what they are doing says that, so I know you’re full of it.”

“Of course I am, have you ever talked with me?” Creaking in the upper floors grabbed his attention. The kids must be waking up, and that meant one thing. He quickly grabbed the plastic bag and walked outside the building, playfully pushing Boss away from the entrance with him. “Not to be a party pooper, but we need to move this conversation somewhere else.”

“What? Why?”

As confused as he was, Boss graciously allowed Peter to push him around, carefully going down the same steps he had just climbed moments ago.

“The kids are waking up,” Peter explained casually, and then remembered that no one besides Red Hood knew about the kids. “My guests are shy; they don't like it when people perceive them.”

“So, like you?” Boss at least sounded entertained by the idea, but stopped Peter on his tracks. “Aren't you going to hide that thing? They are going to get sad if they find it empty.”

Ah! The coolers! Peter ran back and threw the paintings inside one of the coolers. Boss was right, it would be depressing to find an empty box with ‘Snacks’ written in bold letters, so he decided to hide them in the basement for the time being until he could come back and finish them; there was no one else at the buildings during the afternoon so it was alright if he took a small break to eat his breakfast.

Going back outside, he found Boss waiting for him, both of his hands in his pockets and surveying each building with his eyes.

“How did you even end up with a building full of kids?” He finally asked when Peter came to his side.

“I'm not telling you that.”

“Oh? So you don't know,” Boss taunted. “I would suggest leaving the magical world of single parenting to people who can drown their sorrows in alcohol.”

“Bold of you to assume I can't.”

Boss snorted loudly. “You're not fooling anyone. I bet you still have baby fat under that mask.”

“What’s that? That I should ditch you and go eat my breakfast in peace? Oh, that's so considerate of you, Boss.”

“Like you're going to do that,” Boss grabbed the hood of Peter's sweater and pulled it over Peter's face, distracting Peter enough to yank the plastic bag from his hands. “Come on, I know a spot. After that, we can go get some snacks for your box.”

“First, I want my hot dogs back,” Peter huffed once Boss finally let go of his hood and pulled it back, eyeing the man with exasperation. “Second, I'm still saving for the food.”

“What a shame that you don't know someone with connections to a charity so they can give you a hand,” Boss let out easy, a smug smirk on his face while they walked.

“Aren’t you already sponsoring the kitchen?”

“Kid, your plastic box isn't going to bring me to the point of bankruptcy.” Boss looked down at him, and he should have noticed Peter’s doubt, because he added, “If you want, we can sit down and make it formal. I can redact the documents in my sleep at this point, but you're crazy if you think I won't do something to help those kids.”

Boss finally offered the plastic bag back, like an olive branch.

Peter stared at it dumbly.

And then turned to look at Boss. “Just like that?”

That was probably not what Boss expected because his smile faltered for a moment, uncertainty showing through the cracks. Still, he doubled down. “Yep, just like that.” Peter still didn’t reach for the bag. “Come on, kid, my arm is starting to cramp a little. At least tell me no so I can put it down.”

“No, I do want it but- Isn’t that too easy?”

“Ah,” Boss nodded, some kind of understanding finally reaching his eyes. “I guess Gotham is finally drilling some common sense into you, but you see, kid, part of my job is trying to make things easier for others. I love to bust some heads here and there, you know my other job, but a good friend of mine used to live around here. He made a difference until these streets killed him.”

Boss finally lowered his arm, doing small circles with his shoulder to relax the muscles after keeping the bag in the air for so long. “I don't believe in the good in people's hearts, that's just bullshit we tell ourselves to feel better, but I like to back up those that are dumb enough to try.”

“That's-” A lot. And most importantly, it was true. Every single word.

Peter fidgeted with the end of his sleeves, suddenly feeling out of place. He wasn't sure what to say to any of what Boss said. ‘Yes’ might be what Boss was expecting, but Peter wasn’t so sure yet.

“What about Dave?”

At that, the man let out a low chuckle. “You should have seen him, that old man was vicious. I won't tell you the story, but it took me almost a year to convince him. He only accepted when Belinda tracked him down and kicked down the door of his house, fully unprompted, I might add.”

Peter huffed. That sounded exactly like Belinda.

He hesitated but finally nodded. “I think I'll agree, but I want to speak with Dave first.”

He expected for Boss to be annoyed by the request, but the man simply nodded and offered Peter the plastic bag again. “Sounds good, just know that I'm still buying some snacks today. Take it like a test run, because I'm not leaving that box empty.”

Peter finally took the bag. “No strings attached?”

“Do I seriously look that much of a monster to you?” Boss immediately backtracked, a frown growing on his face. ”Don’t answer that, I know it's those assholes' fault. Now move your ass, we have a few streets to cover.”

Boss patted his shoulder and then started walking down the street. It was so easy to just nod and follow along, his shoulders feeling lighter with each step. His progress might be slow, but he was finally moving forward.

Notes:

Trivia time!

1) I know it can be repetitive, but I really wanted for Peter to confront how fucked up his relationship with the kitchen gang is and how it might affect the way he thinks before we can move on and accept that most relationships are a mess (especially in comics)

2) At first, Tony was going to be the one who told Peter about learning that kind of stuff. But in a moment of clarity (3am), it became obvious to me that Bruce would be the one to tell Peter. Who else but the one who had to be aware of his own condition for so years? Dunno if it actually makes sense, tho. (Tony also needs to keep an eye on his health, I know, but I'm not sure he would be involved enough to advise Peter)

3) For anyone interested, Jason is talking about Max Dawkins! I'm not sure if the reason I gave him is enough to make any of his characterization believable, but I hope it at least makes sense.
Also, I know Jason is really against the idea of young heroes, so it was kinda difficult to make it make sense that he starts training Peter. I hope I have built up enough the why he thinks it would be worse to leave Peter to his own devices

----

Sorry that not a lot happens in this chapter. I just wanted to get all of these conversations out of the way because I'm putting this story on hiatus. I created this tumblr for myself, but I have a small ramble as to why and the when this is coming back: Here, take it

Hope you liked the long chapter!!

Notes:

I'm having so much fun throwing Peter directly into a situation <3

Just a quick heads-up. The only comic I have ever read was a static shock one, and it has been a while since I watched any movie (either a Spider-man one or a Batman one), so characterization won't be that good - I'm working on actually watching some series/movies to get an idea but is not a promise.

Second thing. I have always been a reader, so I can't promise a masterpiece. Still, I know how to put one word after the other so I've decided to make this anyone else's problem and not mine. Bone Apple Theeth <3

Third thing. I mostly consume horror/thriller media and, even when I have tried to keep things as Adventure as I could, I already have up until chapter 15 written down and Horror has bled into the story here and there. I'm keeping it as tame as possible but I'm also seriously thinking of just turning it up to honor the canon-present body horror from the animated movies (at least the ones I remember). Dunno.

I'll try to post bi-monthly to not use all my backlog in one go. Except for this first arc, I'll post the second chapter at some point this week.

 

This is for me btw.-
This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!