Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What happens when everyone in your life has been lying to you? Do you really know who you are, or is who you think you are just a thread of lies? Would you really know to believe the truth?

       A human baby, a small and fragile creature. No worries, no idea of its fate, a pure human being. A brand new life force to be reckoned with, and a very needy one at that.

       A nurse handed his mother a beautiful baby boy swaddled in a green baby blanket. The son of Mary Parker, the son of him. Her dearest friend took the place of that man, promising to provide her Peter with a normal life. Mary was grateful for the support, but couldn’t help but feel bad. Richard really did love her, enough to claim Peter as his own and marry her to save her from the nightmare that was her parents. Richard drove her to the hospital, carried her into the hospital, signed the birth certificate, and held her baby boy. He didn’t have to do any of that and yet he did. In another universe, one where none of this ever happened, she could see herself with him.

      “Is it okay if I get your blankets from the car?” He asks.

       Mary’s eyes softened; “Of course, thank you, Richard.”

       Richard smiled before leaving the exhausted woman with the infant. Despite the pressing circumstances of the small infant, she couldn’t help but smile at his adorable little face. She’d never not love her baby boy even if he was his son. Peter wasn’t him, Peter was just a boy and Mary would make sure that he’d never know of or become like him. That man didn’t deserve to meet Peter after what he’d done.

       Just as she was settling into holding her sleeping infant, he entered the hospital room. The atmosphere in the hospital room shifted in an instant. This was the father of her child, and he was not a very “safe” man. Her nurse made an audible gasp as she saw him. This man was dangerous, mischievous, and cruel. His eyes held a genuine grief in them as he marched over to Mary. The woman simply responded by clutching her baby boy tighter to her chest.

      “You didn’t tell me that my son was born;” the man got even closer; “And they say I’m cruel!”

      “I wanted nothing more to do with you!” Mary snapped harshly.

      She held her baby closer to her chest, causing Peter to stir, which went unnoticed as he got closer. His presence overshadowed the joy of her Peter! She didn’t want him there; she never wanted him to see her precious baby boy.

     “You put Richard down as his father?”

      “I did.”

      “Of course you did; you act as if I have no interest in keeping the little spider.”

      Mary scoffed loudly as she looked down at the boy to find him staring right back at her. His wide blue eyes staring up at her before he blinked, and they softened into a warm brown. Mary frowned as she looked down at her baby. How exactly had he done that? That wasn’t normal baby behavior at all.

      “His name is Peter.”

       The mystery man, who won’t be named, laughed, but there was a slight endearment in his mocking.

      “Peter, I believe that is a perfect name.”

***

     Peter was the perfect baby boy, always helping and eager to learn about everything possible. He was the son of Richard and Mary Parker and their only child. Spoiled rotten by the couple with a new adventure every day. Peter was a sweet boy, but his life was full of nothing but tragedy.

     By age six, his aunt and uncle had adopted him after a tragic plane crash and killed both of his parents. Peter was the only survivor of that plane crash. He was found unconscious on a broken plane wing, but strangely enough, he was unharmed. Ever since the troubling incident, the young boy developed a strong fear of planes. The sight of one would cause him to sob uncontrollably, lash out and or hide from others. This began to worry his aunt and uncle, who placed him in therapy for a few years. By the time Peter began his schooling, he was academically gifted, but due to his reclusive nature, it made it nearly impossible for the young boy to connect with other kids his age. Instead, he developed a deep attachment to Star Wars and other fandom spaces, which eventually led to him meeting his best friend, Ned. The two boys became inseparable over their shared love for Star Wars and other Fandom shenanigans.

    For a while, everything was calm; it was just peaceful, but that didn’t last. Peter was bitten by a radioactive spider that gave him peculiar abilities. Peter, terrified of who’d he become, hid his newfound powers until his uncle catches on. Ben attempts to reassure Peter that everything would be alright, but Peter reacts by arguing with him and denying that anything was wrong. Eventually, this argument becomes heated and, in a fit of rage, Peter runs off, which inevitably leads to Ben’s death. While trying to find the young teen, Uncle Ben attempts to save a woman from being robbed; while he was successful, he received a horrible gunshot wound during the altercation. Peter witnesses his uncle’s death and is left with an overwhelming guilt that turns him into Spider-Man. A sympathetic attempt at saving others from his guilt and grief, but in doing so, he’s left in a position of constant stress.

   The day it happened was a special occasion; Peter was turning 14-years-old and as a gift he got to go on a school trip to Stark Industries. Something he’d dreamed of doing since he was small. Before what had happened…happened. An expensive field-trip that if it were just any other day, he wouldn’t have been able to go on, but today was his birthday. Peter was turning 14-years-old, and he was seeing one of the labs at Stark Industries.

   The day it happened was a special occasion; it was Peter’s birthday. Everyone and everything was just like normal, but there was an extra lingering feeling.The bus ride was uneventful; everyone was still a little tired. Peter was without Ned on this trip and therefore had no one he was really interested in talking to, so he ended up sticking towards the back of the crowd once they got there. He didn’t mind it; no one could bother him about his quiet nature if he was at the back of the crowd. Unnoticed and fairly close to any and all exits…just in case. Who knows what could happen in a place like this? Tech mishaps, terrorist attacks, kidnappings or all of the above all together at once! The day it happened was a special occasion.

   The tour was insightful and beyond enlightening! Did you know Tony Stark switched the whole “making weapons” direction that his company had been doing for decades? Talk about hopeful risk taking! Don’t even get him started on seeing a model of an Ironman suit! Highlight of his entire day right there. To know that there were multiple different models and not just one was actually pretty cool. Peter had been waiting to see this place since he was little and now he was seeing it for the first time. The day it happened was a special occasion.

   “As you can see, this is a decently preserved piece of alien tech recovered from the aftermath of the Battle of New York.” Mr. John explains.

    The tech in question is a technology that clearly combines earth tech with the alien tech, creating a super weapon. Just think about what you could do with a weapon like that! You could solve so many problems! The advancements on space tech could spawn a chain of new technology. A tiny part of Peter just wanted to tamper with the sparkling piece of tech just so he could see what it would do, yet he followed after his class. Peter was a smart boy; he’s not dumb enough to steal tech from a billionaire.

     Mr. John goes on to describe the events that transpired, but Peter already knew about that and so began to zone out. Unbeknownst to him, a small red and black spider was creeping up his shoulder. He didn’t notice it, not even as it crawled up his neck; he only noticed when it was too late. A sharp pain pierced his neck, causing the young boy to yelp in pain, but that was the very least of his worries. The pain began to spike and spread like a potent venom and Peter’s system was not responding well. His ears were filled with a high-pitched ringing, making it hard to focus. The room seemed to blur around him, disorienting him further. A pungent smell filled the air, making him cough uncontrollably. It felt like his throat was closing up, suffocating him. Peter, who was usually unaffected by allergies, found this reaction strange. As his concerned teacher approached, his senses were overwhelmed, and he struggled to grasp the situation. Something was happening to him and whatever it was, wasn’t good.

     “I’m tired.” He repeated over and over again.

     His DNA was rearranging itself like a faulty puzzle. Peter’s body was mutating at an accelerated rate that felt absolutely agonizing. The young boy collapsed into his teacher’s arms, attempting to escape the claws of indescribable pain. As his vision grew dark, he could hear the panicked voices of the surrounding adults. They rushed to get him help; some even tried to keep him awake. He couldn’t stay awake, though something was happening to him. Peter’s body felt strange, unfamiliar, and worst of all, something had changed. Something was wrong with him and he felt that.

     Peter changed that day; he knew he had. Something was wrong with him, something otherworldly. Not that it really changed much about Peter, right?

     Wrong; Peter was bedridden for a week straight. He did nothing but throw up, get excruciating headaches, and worst of all, he started losing his hair. Something was wrong. After they took him to the hospital, he did nothing but groan and whine about how much everything hurt. His aunt and uncle were deathly worried until, miraculously, he recovered. His hair grew back, his headaches stopped, and he stopped throwing up. It was like a miracle had happened. The only catch was that when he recovered, he was…different. He started breaking things more often, and he was quicker to anger.

     Broken dishes, shredded clothing, he once broke his door off its hinges while in an argument with his aunt and uncle. This wasn’t typical behavior; Peter was a sweet boy. As it seemed, the only person safe from the teenager’s wrath was Ned, who Peter would spend hours with. Day in and day out, he’d be around his best friend. That seemed to serve as the only thing to keep him from freaking out on people.

      Funnily enough, sometimes his uncle Ben would come to check on him and he would find him glaring at peppermints like they’d been out to get him. It was…concerning to say the least. He started seeing a therapist again, but even she was stumped as to what was wrong with him. Anyone with half a heart could see how jumpy he’d become after the bite, avoiding leaving his room for hours and even skipping school. Despite his explosive anger, you could tell that it stemmed from anxiety.

     Something was wrong with Peter Parker and Uncle Ben was going to find out or at least he tried. We all know how that ended. There was something wrong with Peter parker. Something that not even he could understand, but that won’t stop him from trying to use whatever it was to help people. He was Spider-Man, a friendly neighbor, a person of safety. Someone his parents could be proud of.

     Peter, who was academically gifted, excelled in school. Between his schooling and time as Spider-Man, the boundaries between his two worlds began to blur. Peter would do things that only Spider-Man could do and that wasn’t good. The stress was starting to get to him and that’s not even the highlight of his worries. Aunt May’s medical bills were becoming expensive. She was in and out of the hospital for a chronic illness that no one seems to understand. She needed her treatment and so she kept picking up more shifts at the hospital, a hospital that was sucking her dry. She would’ve retired the year uncle Ben died, but now because of his death she couldn’t. She said it was fine, but Peter knew that it wasn’t; she was getting worse. Finding bloody tissues in the trash, not seeing her for hours, and she tried to hide it from him, but Peter was a smart boy.

     Peter was lost in thought as he pulled out his house key to open the apartment. He was thinking so hard that he’d hardly noticed he’d got there. I wonder what’s for dinner tonight? Hopefully it’s pasta! As the young teen entered the apartment, his jaw dropped. Tony Stark was just sitting in his living room chatting up his aunt. Peter let out an audible gasp that alerted the two to his presence.

     “Hello Mr. Parker.”

      Peter gawked and stared for a couple of seconds before awkwardly waving at Mr. Stark. What exactly was going on here? Peter had no idea, and he did not like that. His aunt looked rather intrigued; it was like everyone else had a weird inside joke, but Peter was the only one who was unaware of it. The young teen fidgeted with his pants awkwardly as he tried to think of what to say.

       “…Hello, what are you here for?” Peter awkwardly mumbles.

       His Aunt gave him a “Are you kidding me Peter?” look as Tony started talking about apparent emails and an internship program. Peter was completely unaware of what this guy was talking about, but he smiled along and agreed. It’s what Peter did when he was nervous; don’t judge him! It’s the only way to get some people to leave him alone! He’s working on it!

       Aunt May playfully glared at Peter; “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m finding out just now.”

       That’s because I’m just finding out too!

       Peter smiled; “I just wanted to surprise you!”

       “Well, maybe stick to letting me do the surprises, Pete.” She chuckles.

      Peter nervously laughed, but then turned his attention back to Tony. “What exactly did I apply for?”

     “That’s what I’m here to hatch out.”

     “Oh.”

    Peter was highly nervous so far, and the experience was not improving in the slightest. He almost threw himself out of the apartment window when the billionaire asked to “borrow” Peter. What was this all about? What did he want from him? He doesn’t know about the bite, right? He can’t know; that’d be really awkward. That happened a couple of months ago, and Stark Industries already paid for his treatment! There was no need to talk, if that’s what this was about.

    Still, Peter led the man to his room, despite his clear nervousness. Once they entered the room, Peter shut his door, albeit reluctantly, before quickly turning to Tony.

    “I did not apply for any grant—.“ Peter began, but Tony cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

    “Nope, me first.”

    Peter raised an eyebrow, but nodded his head. “Okay..”

     “I just have a quick question for you, completely rhetorical.”

    Right as Tony said that, he lifted his phone to show Peter a video of Spider-Man saving a subway train from being hit by a speeding delivery truck.

    Tony looked up at him with his signature smile. “Is this you?”

   Oh shit, oh no, oh god. He could not let this guy know he was Spider-Man! No one could find out that he’s Spider-Man! Iron Man, one of his greatest inspirations, can't even know. That could endanger the people he cares about, especially after he fought that one weird guy last week. The young boy had to play it off; he cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders.

“You do know that’s on YouTube, right?” Peter mused, walking over to his desk. “That’s clearly edited footage—.“

Tony cut the boy off by using a broom to shift a ceiling tile, causing the suit to fall to the ground between the two. Peter gawked while Tony just picked up the suit; crap.

“You were saying, Parker?”

…This was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

        After the initial shock of his identity being discovered, Peter was quick to snatch the red and blue suit from the billionaire. Peter did not want to deal with this today like knock knock wrong Spider-Man, come back never! Unfortunately for the skittish teenager, he would have to sort this out today. 

“So you’re the Spiderling crawling around?”

       Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Peter checked his web shooters to be sure the web fluid hadn’t leaked from the fall. After finding nothing wrong with the suit, he shoved it deep into his closet and piled random objects on top. 

      “It’s Spider-Man,” Peter grumbles.

       “Not in that onesie.” Tony joked.

        Peter glanced back at Tony and replied, completely unamused. “It’s meant to look friendly, not like whatever you have going on.”

        That earned him a laugh from the older man. Peter smiled a little but turned back to hide his suit. See, even underneath the teenage angst, he could still feel joy! Anyway, after he was sure the suit was hidden enough that a random billionaire couldn’t just grab it, he took his science kit off one of the shelves. Yes, Peter R. Parker still owns a science kit. He never grew out of them++++++++ With the science kit in hand, Peter walked past Tony to his desk. Various pens, textbooks, and sticky notes were everywhere. His desk was a little crowded, but that was normal with Peter. He has a hard time staying organized when he’s working. After dumping the kit’s contents onto the messy desk, the young teen placed the tools needed to make more web fluid next to his sketchbook.

        “Why’d you come looking for me?” Peter asks. 

        “I want to know why you’re doing this,” Tony replied, following Peter to his desk.

        “What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter snarked.

       “Whatever you want it to mean, kid,” Tony responded bluntly.

       Peter spun around in his chair to face Tony. He met his eye for the first time since they’d entered his room. 

       “I want to help make the world a better place.” Peter continued, “Stop people from having to go through what I did.”

      Peter reached back, grabbing a chunky sketchbook and handing it to the older man. Tony raised an eyebrow as he took the book. He flipped through its pages to reveal that the whole book was packed full of Spider-Man suit designs, street maps, sketches of heroes, and a decent amount of notes next to the pictures. 

      “This is some pretty good art; who taught you to draw?” Tony asks, tossing him back the book.

     “My Mom, when there was downtime during her work,” Peter responds, catching the book and placing it in his lap. “I admire her work.”

     “You’ve got a talent, Parker.”

      For a second, he was less of a guarded kid and more friendly, but no more than a second. He still wanted his question answered. He wasn’t satisfied with the answer he’d received. He was quick to redirect the conversation back to his original question.

       “Now that I answered your question, I want you to answer mine.”

       “Well, that’s simple Parker, we need you and you need some serious guidance .”

       “You need me? ” Peter repeats mockingly, flipping through his sketches. “I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

        Tony scoffed. “Don’t sell yourself short, kid.”

        Peter rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny that accusation; he can’t. Sometimes, he did sell himself short, but this was different. He was not about to go play superheroes when he could be in Queens assisting the people that needed help there. Unfortunately for Peter, the universe doesn’t listen to him. 

       “Do you have a passport?” Tony asks.

        Peter shrugs his shoulders and starts drawing, not paying much attention. “I don’t think so. Aunt May and I don’t go anywhere; why?”

        “You ever been to Germany?”

         Turning back to the desk, the teen used the materials from the science kit to make web fluid while following the guild written in his sketchbook. Yeah, Peter’s mind was elsewhere now. He wasn’t the best at focusing on people talking.

         “Nope, can’t afford that,” Peter replied. 

         “Oh, you’ll love it,” Tony remarked.

         For a moment, the two sat in silence before it dawned on Peter what Tony was implying. He almost knocked over the blue dye he was using to color the new webs as he whipped around to face Tony. His eyes were as wide as a terrified cat's when he met the man’s gaze. 

        “...Mr. Stark, I cannot go to Germany, I have homework! —”

       Tony cut Peter off. “You just got the opportunity of a lifetime, and you’re worried about homework?”

      “Yes, it’s half my grade! I’m not failing a class because you want to go play superheroes !” Peter stuttered.

     Tony gave Peter an incredulous look. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

     Peter scoffed as he turned back to finish his web fluid, adding the fresh fluid to a newer web shooter. 

     “I’m sure you can find some other young, smart hero.” Peter mused dismissively.

     “Or I could tell your devilishly hot aunt that you’re turning down a massive opportunity,” Tony replies casually.

    Peter choked on nothing but pure shock. He spun around again, web shooter in hand, mouth agape. Did Tony Stark just threaten him? Was that… allowed? He sputtered about how that’s not something he could do but nevertheless gave in.

    “I’ll go to Germany.” The young teen grumbled, grabbing his satchel bag from under his desk. “But you’re telling me what this is actually about.”

     Peter shoves his sketchbook in the satchel, as well as some other items, including a few containers of blue webbing.

     “Sure thing, Parker. Now about that passport…”

***

    He told Aunt May he’d be fine. He told her he’d be fine getting on a plane and that it wouldn’t make him sick. Yet here he was, throwing up in trash cans before they could even board Tony’s jet. Aircraft of any kind always made him sick. They were a reminder of what had happened to him.  Each time they tried to board, he’d feel sick, start trembling, and Tony would force him to wait. Waiting made it worse, but he didn’t want to say that! He’d rather not explain his childhood traumas to Iron Man. 

    “I’m okay, I’m just an anxious flyer!”

     He’d insisted, but Tony didn’t believe him. The number of times his AI scanned for possible illness was insane. Fortunately, Tony was searching for physical illnesses and not mental ones. Nothing ever came up for anyone who ran tests for his physical health. His intense reactions were instead labeled as a reaction to an intense phobia. 

    That felt like an understatement during his “episodes”. He wasn’t really afraid during his episodes; he was more defensive than anything else.

Chapter Text

“Parker, I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”  

Peter sighed, “Well, you’re right, I won’t lie, but I’m not going to tell you what.”

The billionaire let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Alright, Parker.”

His hands clenched his satchel tightly as he boarded the private jet. It took everything in him not to break down crying right then and there. He hated this stupid jet. The second he found his seat, he was very quick to buckle himself in, but not by the window. He hated the window seat; he hated seeing the sky so closely. 

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, kid,” Tony promised.

Peter glanced at the older man and sank into his seat. He was trying not to panic, but it was nearly impossible not to. It’s why his aunt never took him on her trips; he’d sleep over at Ned’s house instead. It was like his flight response was broken. He’d start crying and hyperventilating, but not like normal. It was impossible to describe how exactly it felt. Due to him only gaining spider-like abilities recently, he had no idea how they’d affect an episode. That was bad.

When the jet took off, the world started spinning. His heart started racing, his throat tightened, and his eyes watered. On the surface, you couldn’t tell that Peter was having an “episode” until they happened, but Tony seemed to catch on quickly. The older man was saying something to him, something he couldn’t understand. His ears were ringing too loudly to even attempt to decipher what was being said.

Peter blinked, and he was no longer on the plane with Mr. Stark. He wasn’t on a jet but instead was trapped on that stupid plane. 

It’s strange how tense his Papa was; he was doing that frowning thing he does with his lips. He’s scrunching up his eyebrows and scowling kinda like angry people do in movies! Pete didn’t understand why his Papa was so upset. They were only supposed to be moving for a little! Mama said so, and mama never lies about anything, ever. 

Peter turned to his Papa with a smile on his face, but he didn’t smile back; he always smiled back. Mama wasn’t smiling either. She was holding the satchel closer to her chest. They were both looking at something he couldn’t see; he was too small to see. Papa pushed him towards Mama before he could open his mouth. 

“Be quiet, Pete.”

Papa stood, his movements slow and steady as he spoke to someone Peter couldn’t see. It happened in seconds, two loud bangs that made his ears hurt. Mama unbuckled his seatbelt and forced him into the seat by the emergency exit. She was precise, like this was something she was prepared for. Something she knew was unavailable. 

It hurt Peter’s tummy even more seeing how she acted. She’d never acted like this before, not even when he got lost that night in the park. She always stopped to calm him down, no matter what was happening. Right now, she wasn’t doing that; instead, she was more focused on something else.

“Peter, Mommy needs you to listen to her,” Mama whispers.

Peter’s eyes were wide, but he wasn’t crying. Not yet. He was just scared, really scared. 

“Listening.” Peter whimpered.

She smiled at him. “Mommy loves you a bunch.”

Peter smiled back at her, albeit somewhat weakly. 

“My tummy hurts. —” Peter whined, but he was cut off by an even louder bang.

He screamed in terror as his mama shoved the satchel in his arms. This bang was even worse than the last; it made everything start shaking and spinning. He hadn’t noticed that the oxygen mask had dropped until his mama forced him to put his mask on.

“Relax, everything’s going to be okay, Petey. —”

“Peter!” 

Peter turned to look at Tony but realized he wasn’t in his seat anymore. His eyes widened when he realized just how wrecked the Jet was. Several papers were scattered around, part of a seatbelt from another seat was ripped off entirely, and there was a dent in the roof where he was standing. 

Peter let himself drop from the ceiling to the ground in front of Tony. He pulled his turtleneck off to reveal his suit underneath to allow for more air. He glanced out of the Jet’s window; they’d landed.

“My bad…” Peter muttered awkwardly, brushing off a few stray webs from his suit.  

Tony looked shocked. “Kid, that is not a normal reaction to riding in a private jet.”

Peter shrugged, pulling the Spider-Man mask over his head and securing a few items into his pocket. This was Peter’s normal, and to him, it was better to avoid dwelling too much on his episodes.

“Are you going to be like that on the way back…?” 

Peter fidgeted with one of his web shooters. “Possibly.” 

For a second, Tony looked a little horrified but recovered as they both unboarded the Jet. Peter knew exactly where he was supposed to go and set off before Tony could say anything else to him. He had a mission, a morally questionable one, but still a mission. 

He crawled around the compound until he spotted Captain America and the Black Panther fighting. He paused to watch the fight, curious about the moves the captain was using. 

“Do what we discussed, kid, and make sure you keep your distance,” Tony ordered over the coms. 

The teen groaned but followed the order, scaling a building until he saw two people fleeing. Without a moment’s hesitation, he crashed through a window to attack some weirdo with a metal arm and the Falcon. Peter kicked the Falcon when he landed, which wasn’t his initial intention, but hey, he’s just a kid. Sometimes, he makes rookie mistakes! His buddy didn’t seem to care, or so Peter thought, because he swung at him with that metal arm.

Peter caught his arm, and for a moment, the guy looked concerned, but Peter was too busy analyzing the metal to care. He could use a metal like this instead of the plastic he uses to make the fangs for his suit. Just look at how durable it is; his fangs wouldn’t need to be replaced so much if he used this metal.

“Who made your arm? I could use—.” Peter began, but was cut off when the Falcon crashed into him. 

Peter was a little bewildered when he realized he was no longer touching the ground, but hey, sometimes things don’t go according to plan. The young teen headbutted the Falcon before shooting a web at the ceiling, and by using the Falcon for momentum, he swung away. He just needed to get them where Mr. Stark wanted them, and then he could get his homework done. Yes, he was still thinking about his homework. It's due tomorrow, and he hasn’t started!

Guiding them outside, he swung out of view and pulled a small notebook from his pocket. Pressing his com to confirm he’d completed the mission.

“I did what you told me; can I do my homework?” Peter asks.

He heard Tony audibly groan when he said that. He took that as a yes and sat on a crate out of view. An essay by Peter R. Parker was actually getting done for once. Well, until one of them accidentally nicked his notebook with an actual car. Peter had to duck to avoid getting hit, they were being highly inconsiderate. Giving in to the inconvenience that was this fight, Peter “rejoined”, and by “joining,” he meant just making it inconvenient for all parties involved. Would it be so wrong if he webbed all the Avengers together? A completely rhetorical question! Maybe. 

With a flick of a wrist, Peter swung around the field of battle but avoided getting in the crossfire. Until Captain America’s Shield cut his webbing, which forced the teen to land and fight .

Steve caught his shield and spoke. “You’re grappling with things you don’t understand, kid.” 

“Yeah, but Tony’s my flight home, and I have to turn in my homework tomorrow.” Peter snickered. 

The mischievous teen shot a few webs at the Captain’s legs and tripped him. He saluted the Captain. 

A smug smile spread across his face. “Thank you for your service;  I’d love to fight, but I have a mission to complete!”

Peter turned to zip away. — Look! Turn! Turn! Now! Peter turned his attention back towards Cap, who was now accompanied by the equivalent of a traumatized magical girl. MOVE. Peter looked up to see a massive crate flying at him. 

“Hey, that’s not fair; I don't have magic powers!” Peter pouted in fake hurt.

Neither of the two replied to his comment as he zipped through the falling crates when suddenly he got an idea. Using the crates as cover, he switched the webbing he was using. A simple change, but one he would not regret. Running away from the two, he launched himself on the top of a large truck.

After taking a second to calculate the amount of large objects he’d need, Peter webbed a few cars and a couple of large crates. He waited until they were all relatively close to each other before he zipped around, trapping the Avengers with webs and crates. Was this not his mission? It wasn’t, but if he just solved their problems, then he could go home early.

“ Underoos, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I get the impression that no matter what I respond with, you’re going to yell at me,” Peter mused.

That would’ve been a valid response, given that he webbed up both sides, and the only person who wasn’t webbed was Steve, Black Panther, and metal arm dude. Peter got comfy on one of the crates, waving at the trapped bunch. They’d have to Twilight Sparkle their way out if they wanted to leave. Giving a brief stretch, the young teen restarted his essay outline while listening to them argue. Finally, he was able to get some actual work done! Maybe Aunt May was right; he needed to get out more!

Peter didn’t look up from his essay outline until he heard a loud clanking sound, followed by a thunderous crash. They’d escaped his makeshift metaphorical get-along shirt! Captain America was helping Tony out of webbing, and that strange magic lady was using magic to move the crates. By the looks of things, they’d teamed up instead of fighting so they could make it out! To be fair, you’d have to team up to get out due to the formula used to make blue webbing. It’s thicker, dense like rope, and difficult to remove. Seems like they figured out how to escape together. See, the power of friendship is real . The only problem was that the metal arm dude and the Black Panther were still fighting. Not his problem; he did everything he could. He turned back to his essay, only for Tony to snatch his notebook from him before he could start. When had he gotten over here???

“Aw, I was almost finished.” Peter pouted.

Even in the Iron man suit, Peter could see Tony’s glare. It took everything in him not to laugh when he noticed the blue webbing stuck to the suit. He’s telling Ned about this when he gets home. 

“You’re welcome?” Peter said, stifling a laugh.

“‘You’re welcome’, that’s all you have to say for yourself?” 

"You got your team back.” Peter added, pointing to the others, “I helped.”

And true to his word, the Avengers, their allies, and opposing sides were helping each other. No arguments, no fighting, just the good ol power of friendship. Peter felt a deep sense of pride swelling in his chest; Tony stood staring at the two opposing sides regrouping. For a moment, the two stood in silence until Tony broke it. 

“And you said you were just a friendly neighborhood Spider-man?”

“Yup!”

Tony chuckled, “Don’t sell yourself short, kid.”

Chapter Text

So, all of this is one giant mess. Since Peter had participated in the fight, it indirectly resulted in the Avengers uniting again. I mean, you kinda have to unite when a radioactive spider teen is in the way of your fighting. One who doesn’t follow orders and would rather get a good laugh than help either side.

To Peter, this entire ordeal felt like a dysfunctional family, finally realizing that they’re dysfunctional and falling apart. Some cling to what was there, while others are ready to cut ties. The real solution is finding the source of the problem and trying to grow as individuals. Peter didn’t know too much about that, seeing as he had his Aunt.

The only thing Peter had been grateful for was finally being able to finish his essay. Not that it matters anymore because it’s going to be late, anyway. Why? Because he’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Captain America and Iron Man in a random aircraft!—Yes, he’s silently panicking. His palms were all sweaty, and it was way worse than normal because of the suit. The roaring tension that shimmered all around him like a green light. Why a green light and not any other color? Peter was unnerved by the color green, and that’s how he felt right now. That and he got the feeling that everyone was at least a little peeved at him because of the webbing that was everywhere. The webs stuck to the skin even worse than they stuck to metal, which was bad. In his defense, though, he didn’t think that this was going to happen! Usually, he couldn’t make anything adhesive enough to hold for long periods. There’s not much he can do about it now, he’d just have to remember to make a dissolver before using it next time.

As he rested his head on the table, the contagious aggravation seeped into his calm resolve. He knew that none of this was worth arguing about. If the nations truly cared about rights or saving people, they wouldn’t have created the accords in the first place, but on the other hand, this was more of a personal affair. Now, typically, Peter would’ve just leaned back and watched the chaos unfold, but this was an entirely different ballpark! How does a group that’s supposed to be a team have so many unresolved issues? And more importantly, why’d he have to get dragged into them?

“Have any of you considered that all of this is stupid? Or that maybe there’s a better way of going about this,” Peter muttered to himself.

hadn’t been mumbling quietly enough not to be heard because, in an instant, the heated discussion hit its brakes. All the attention in the room was now on him. Hawkeye, Eye Patch Guy (Nick Fury), Black Widow, Iron Man, and perhaps others had their full undivided attention on him. Now maybe he’d been a little too quiet before? After all, Spider-Man was spontaneous and cocky, not quiet. Not that it mattered now that they were all trying to smite him out of existence with looks alone.

“Then what’s your big idea, bug boy?” Fury countered.

“Well, um, I uh—.”

He should’ve just kept his mouth shut, but he also knows that’s not possible. Like he’d said before, Spider-Man was an unstoppable chatterbox, and so was Peter, arguably at least. He’d just have to come up with something concrete and convincing right on the spot! Fury cleared his throat, staring into the teenager's soul through the mask somehow. He was expecting him to make an argument! Peter lifted his notebook from his lap, the same notebook he’d done his homework in. Grabbed a pen from the meeting table and began writing. Scribbling words down quicker than some thought was possible. He didn’t want to be wrong, nor could he back down now that he’s started. To him, this was an agitating test of his abilities, one that he hated. Peter Parker didn’t back down, and neither did Spider-Man. The divided team sat in silence, watching him write.

“Negotiation is key,” Peter concluded, underlining the word negotiation before placing his pen down. “But the accords aren’t the real reason some of you are fighting.”

“Oh, then what do you think this is all about?” Natasha asked.

He pointed at the bulletproof glass window where Bucky, who was handcuffed on the other side, sat. “That cool guy with a metal arm that’s outside and everybody else’s unresolved issues.”

Captain America chuckled slightly upon hearing his comment about Bucky’s arm, but other than that? Silence, long, agonizing, uncomfortable silence! Well, this would make a marvelous headline: “Spider-Man, no, Peter Parker left the Avengers completely speechless!” Sadly, recording anything in here and posting it on Twitter would probably result in the apocalypse or something. Not to mention, he has very important images for news articles on his camera! He'd preferably like to keep all of those photos perfectly intact.

Giving a brief yawn, he slid his book over to Natasha because, as much as he wanted to stay awake to read the absolute masterpiece he’d written, he was exhausted. That and she’d seemed like the most reasonable individual in the room; less inclined to kill him (hopefully).

“My argument against the accords because if we’re being honest with ourselves, we know that they’re not a good idea.” Peter mused.

The other Avengers (including Tony, who kinda looked like he wanted to strangle Peter) waited for Natasha to read his argument. She glanced down at the notebook and, with a heavy sigh, read aloud his statement.

“The Accusations Against the Avengers and other associated entities that they are dangerous are undeniably discriminatory against enhanced individuals. In your attempt to control an entire group of people, you almost destroyed a team that saved the world. You divided them and forced them to turn on each other and fight. That is more dangerous than the horrors that you believe to be present. Regulations should exist, but the accords aren’t the way to go about creating regulations.

Furthermore, if enhanced individuals and their organizations are dangerous, it is because of the consistent threats to their security, freedoms, and rights as citizens in their respective communities. Their intervention without dictators saves lives far quicker than acting according to typical protocols. Alien invasions and other disturbances of a similar nature do not wait for armed forces to plan their attack. Rather than removing soldiers from the front lines, we should focus on ensuring effective training. Training that will limit tragedies. These regulations should be created by intellectuals who understand basic human decency and aren’t making fear-based decisions.”

“Seems like Spider boy could work as a lawyer,” Natasha remarked, shutting the notebook.

“If he’s up long enough to write another argument.” Clint quipped.

After Clint’s remark, the team returned their attention to the young hero to find him sound asleep; his mask lifted just enough to reveal his lips. The little plastic fangs of the suit pressed softly against his pale cheeks each time he inhaled. His scrawny form had shifted in a way that it almost looked like he was attempting to fight Captain America in his sleep. When had he fallen asleep? Moreover, how had he fallen asleep that quickly!?

“...Alright then, thanks to the Spider Boy, you all have a new prerogative,” Fury stated, crossing his arms.

Unfortunately, this was a prerogative that would result in a lot of debate and decision-making. Hours passed before they settled on their alternative strategy. The Avengers were…back together, albeit the tensions were still high, especially after Steve refused to let Bucky be imprisoned. That argument almost woke Peter with how heated it got, but eventually it, too, was settled. The Avengers would use Peter’s written statement as a defense against the accords. Bucky would stay with Cap at an undisclosed location until further notice, and the rest of the team would wait out the media frenzy until it was no longer an issue. Ultimately, they’d have to reconsider how to handle the conflict with Wakanda later. Right now, they needed to figure out what to do with this new “hero” that Tony had made everyone’s problem.

Said hero was completely slumped and entirely unaware of the conversations the adults were having. It was a marvel how he’d managed to stay asleep in the freezing meeting room. Not that it mattered. He never should’ve been a part of a situation like this in the first place, but now that he was.—

“Spider-Man isn’t someone we can let run around without a leash.” Fury began.

Tony clenched his jaw, his posture straightening as he prepared for another argument. “The kid is perfectly capable of making decisions on his own.”

“Be realistic about this, Tony, we don’t know his identity and he’s a teenager.” Fury countered.

“I know his identity, plus he’s clever enough not to rat out government secrets,” Tony replied confidently.

“Yet clever enough to disobey direct orders, web up the Avengers,” Fury sighed in annoyance. “—and somehow managed to be more worried about homework than the gravity of a situation.”

And just like that, they were arguing again. Their voices got louder and louder, which caused the sleeping teenager to stir. A quiet yet steady groan rumbled from Peter’s throat as he struggled with his body to stay asleep. Unfortunately, all attempts failed, and as his eyes fluttered open, he felt a little peeved. He lifted his head, his eyes on his suit, blinking as they tried to catch what horrible thing had woken him up.

“--he’s a genetically enhanced human spider that managed to successfully contain every last one of you!” Fury shouted, which caught Peter’s attention.

FIGHT! RUN? RUN. NO FIGHT!

Peter looked around in pure confusion as he felt his spider-sense tick like hell. Or was it his Spider-sense? It didn’t feel like it; it felt like something entirely different.

Choosing to ignore the odd feeling, Peter groggily responded, “How’s it my fault they’re all too slow not to get webbed up?”

Even when all the attention was on him, he couldn’t set his tired mind straight. That tickling feeling kept drumming in his head. Rubbing his face, he let out another exasperated groan. His head was aching worse than anything imaginable! The adults were very unamused by his comment.

Tony started to warn the teen, “The Adults are talking Underoos—.”

Fury cut Tony off, “That’s your only defense?”

“What, would you rather have an apology with a side of an identity reveal?” Peter sassed before curling his fingers under the mask. “By all means, I’ve got nothing to hide.”

And in an impulsive act of exhaustion, Peter ripped the mask from his face before Tony could even stop him. Did he just reveal his identity in a moment of extreme irritation? Yes, yes, he did. Did Peter care? No, no, he didn’t. These were grown-ass adults who had dragged him into their mess, and he was going to make it as difficult as possible for them.

Peter pointed to his face with a very unimpressed scowl. “There, Peter R. Parker! Right here for you to see.”

Everyone…sat dumbfounded for a few seconds, just staring at the agitated and grumpy teenager. Shocked by the audacity that he had. That only served to irritate Peter even more. By the way he looked, it looked like he would scorch, burn, and crush the entire team, but alas, he yawned. Yup, he yawned. Does this kid have no sense of awareness? And slumped down in his chair, placing his mask on the table.

“Now that we’ve been acquainted, you can all shut up so I can go to sleep—.” Peter rubbed his eyes with a soft sigh. “—Not to mention you could’ve taken the mask off? It’s not that difficult; I’m asleep!”

“You’re telling me you care more about sleeping than revealing your identity to a group of strangers?” Fury asked, seeking clarification.

Peter glowered at him, which was very clear now that he’d taken the mask off. It was a little admirable, the guts Peter had seen as he was talking to people who could squash him like a common pest. He hates, hates, hates being woken up. He smacks his lips and crosses his arms.

“Would you like the honest answer or a fictitious one!?” Peter exclaims sarcastically.

Fury’s glare hardened upon hearing his response. He’d made it abundantly clear that he couldn’t even be trusted to keep his identity secret, which sucked for him because now—.

“You, Mr. Parker, aren’t helping your case,” Fury states firmly.

Peter’s shoulders tensed, and that buzzing in the back of his head grew louder. Drumming, no, thundering in his head as he tries to calm his nerves. He was most certainly in for a wild ride.

Chapter Text

He was in for a wild ride, seeing as he didn't get home until 3:30 am. So, needless to say, his attitude hadn’t done him any favors. Admittedly, he wished he had reacted better to being woken up from his impromptu nap. In his defense, though, they did nothing but argue about things that could be resolved with a productive adult conversation. So if anything, he was doing the world a favor by reacting like he had. Maybe he’d humbled the group somewhat.

With a long sigh, he plopped his bag on the coffee table. His legs trembled with exhaustion as he slumped onto the soft couch. He breathed in the fresh floral scent of the cushions and buried his head deep into the fluffy decorative pillows like a little kid. His hands clutched onto the heart-shaped one May had made to “complete” the couch. His eyes began to droop, but he shook himself to stay awake. He wanted to wait for May, but his head was aching. It felt like someone hit him over the head with a metal bat. Which wasn’t abnormal, Peter had persistent headaches. Part of him considered the prospect of getting back up to take some ibuprofen, but his body was too comfortable to move, and even then, the medication wouldn’t have even worked, anyway.

Ever since he’d recovered from that stupid spider bite, his body treated medicine like candy. As in, Peter could swallow several bottles full of pills and have nothing happen. It’s not normal, but Aunt May doesn’t know what to do to help him. He’d once downed several bottles full of pills in hopes of quenching his migraines, but none of it worked. It should’ve worked. For a normal non-mutant human being, that would’ve resulted in a horrific overdose, or at least that’s what May said to him. Unfortunately, Peter’s metabolism works at an alarmingly accelerated rate. Meaning that he had to throw up all of those pills for no reason. Another horrible byproduct of that stupid Stark Industries spider.

Still, Aunt May’s horrified and angry expression will forever be engraved in his memory. So he’d just have to wait out the agony. He didn’t want her coming home to find him in the bathroom surrounded by the empty containers of pain medication again. Only to have to reexplain to Peter why he can’t do this while he’s screaming and crying about how much his head still hurts despite taking all the pills. Ever since that day, he felt a keen desire to apologize for what he’d done, but May hadn’t wanted to talk about it after it happened. So, he left the situation alone.

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter rolled over onto his back, fishing his phone from his pocket and tapping his screen to check his notifications. A blinding light bloomed from the phone, causing the young man’s eyes to shut momentarily before they fluttered back open. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he scrolled through the messages he’d received throughout the day. Replying to Ned about their next hangout before swiping through his notifications to see what May had sent. As he read the message from her, an exhausted whine escaped his throat. Aunt May’s going to be home late tonight. But Peter R. Parker knows better. An “I’m not going to be home till late” text from May meant that she wasn’t coming that night or even that morning. It made Peter wonder why she took on so many extra shifts. I mean, he knows why, obviously, but the question remains. Sometimes he needed her comfort or advice, and she’d just be gone. Another late shift at the hospital or a work emergency of some kind. Like now, he needs her now, like really, really bad, and she’s not here. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt angered by it. A strong burning bile burned his throat as his eyes began to water. Peter tried to stop his stomach from forming its typical angry, anxious knots by taking in a few shaky breaths. His shoulders were tensed so hard that they felt sore. His teeth dug into the flesh of his lips as his mind wandered. If he had just left during that stupid argument, then he could’ve made it home in time to at least say goodbye, but nope. Peter just had to run his big mouth and make unnecessary commentary.

Thanks to that commentary, Fury labeled him impulsive, sarcastic, and reckless. An apparent perfect fit for the Avengers' guidance. A decision that Peter wasn’t allowed to reject until he fixed his attitude or somehow proved that he wasn’t impulsive. Something that he wasn’t able to prove because of the overwhelming evidence proving the accusation.

With a heavy sigh, the young man ripped himself from the soft surface beneath him, his head throbbed at the action, and a wave of nausea soon accompanied the feeling. Which wasn’t doing him any favors, nor was the shaking that had hold of his body. It was like he’d just walked out of an ice bath or stayed outside in the cold for too long. This is probably bad. His stomach growled as he weakly made his way through the dreary apartment. Silently sulking as he made his way into the apartment’s small kitchen area. Sluggishly flipping through the cabinets in search of a glass to fill with water.

LOOK! F-R-I-E-N-D! NEW FRIEND!

Peter glanced over at the locked door expectantly. Waiting for the doorbell to ring, but it didn’t. Oh god, please don’t be an Avenger.

F-R-I-E-N-D!

With a heavy sigh, Peter shuffled towards the door. His trembling hands gripping the doorknob as he threw open the door to see…No one? Okay, maybe his Spidey-tingle was haywire today? Which wouldn’t be too abnormal because he was anxious, and still couldn’t tell the difference between anxiety and the Spidey-tingle yet. The only thing that disproved the anxiety theory was that the tingle wasn’t perceiving whatever it was as a threat, like it did when he was anxious. His Spidey-tingle was perceiving it as a friend. Which hadn’t ever happened before because if there’s no threat, then there’s no reason for the Spider sense to kick in at all. Still, Peter peeked his head outside. Glancing down the hall, but found nobody.

“Well, that was weird,” Peter muttered to himself before shutting the door back.

“Hello, Mr. Parker.” A woman’s voice greeted him from behind.

A terrified gasp escaped Peter’s lips, and he quickly spun around to meet the face of the intruder. An action that reacquainted him with his aching head. The throbbing intensity grew, and yet he was still determined to locate the intruder. That’s when his eyes landed on the spy in the middle of his living room. Is this going to become a running theme? Natasha stood in his living room with a bag of takeout in one hand and what looked like an EpiPen in the other. Peter glared at the spy with mild resentment as he took up a more defensive position. Can’t I just catch a break?

“What do you want?” Peter asked.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, “I would like to administer pain medication to a very grumpy, itsy bitsy spider.”

Peter scoffed at the “itsy bitsy spider” line, but his shoulders sagged in defeat. He knew that he couldn’t fight a trained spy right now. He had a damned headache. So, rather than furthering the ache, he simply locked the door back and dragged his feet back to the couch. Slumping back on it with typical teenage grumpiness. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest and scowled up at her.

“Itsy bitsy spider is extremely unoriginal, pick a new spider-themed nickname.” He spat, choosing to ignore her comment about giving him medicine.

Natasha chuckled at his snarky comment, something that Peter hadn’t expected. FRIEND! Alrighty, so she is what triggered the abnormality. The tingle never pointed out a “good” person before; it felt weird. Still, Peter’s scowl remained as clear as day. He needed Natasha to see that he was unhappy and not curious.

“Well, that’s too bad, Itsy,” Natasha replied, chucking a chicken sandwich from the bag at him.

Thanks to his heightened reflexes, Peter caught the sandwich before it could hit anything in its general radius. A small smile sneaking its way onto his lips at the retort to his quip and the food that’d been given to him. Sinking his teeth into the juicy sandwich he’d been tossed. Something that you should not try at home because taking food from strangers who break into your house isn’t smart. Peter’s just in a lot of pain and hungry! Not that it makes the situation any less complicated on paper from a legal standpoint. Honestly, Peter hadn’t cared now that he had a meal.

His mind wrapped around the taste of the sandwich. Which left him far more exposed than normal. A little more attention would’ve done him some serious good because before he could react, Natasha launched towards him. Grabbing hold of his wrist, causing the young man to drop the partially unwrapped sandwich. Peter tried in vain to get free of Natasha’s hold. Flailing against the spy’s grip, but she hadn’t even reacted. Maybe I should’ve fought the trained spy. He thought bitterly, as his body tensed when Natasha administered the injection. His panicked struggling did nothing to help him against the spy’s grip. She was determined to ensure that the medication was properly administered. It took a minute or two before Peter’s struggles grew strained and ragged. His eyes began to droop as the medication dragged him from consciousness. Panic spread through him as he attempted to stay conscious, but it was useless, and only then did Natasha let him go.

“Relax, Peter,” Natasha told Peter gently. “It’s only to help with the pain.”

That’s easy for you to say, you’re not losing consciousness on your living room couch.

Even as his vision faded to black, his stupid, tingly senses still perceived Natasha as a friend. What kind of friend stabs you in the neck with pain medicine? An Avenger, that’s what kind. If they keep this up, Peter won’t join them; instead, he’d call a local supervillain group and join them.

Chapter Text

May turned her key to enter her small apartment, exhausted in a way that only a mother could be. Placing her keys on the hook by the door before plopping the groceries she bought on the countertop. Exhaustedly sweeping her eyes over the ingredients she bought to make chicken salad, before glancing over into the living room. There lay Peter, curled up on the couch.

“Peter?” May called, walking out from the small kitchen.

Peter didn’t even stir, which was strange. He’d been an extremely light sleeper since he’d gotten out of the hospital. May felt a little worried as she slowly edged closer to the couch, peeking over to get a better look at the slumbering teen. A warm smile overwhelmed her tired features once she got a good look at the boy. Peter had tucked his arm loosely beneath his chin and his mouth slightly agape as he snored quietly. His knees were tucked neatly up against his chest, and May swore that her heart nearly melted. Peter hadn’t slept like this since he was a toddler. She was almost tempted not to bother him. Until she realized that it was a school day and Peter should’ve left over four hours ago. Reluctantly, May leaned over the couch and shook the teenager.

“Pete, come on, buddy, you should’ve left hours ago.” She said gently.

Her heart actually melted when Peter turned his head to blink up at her. He stretched his arms and legs out with a loud yawn. He curled his fingers into his palms after he brought his hands toward his chest. Those sweet blue and brown eyes were so wide that someone could’ve sworn that he’d seen a ghost. Only for them to relax once he recognized May.

“You’re back.” He mumbled sleepily, drooping his hand over his eyes.

A soft chuckle escaped May’s lips as she walked around the couch to sit next to Peter. Settling on the couch’s edge as the young teenager shifted his feet out of the way. However, it didn’t seem to bother May too much because she instead leaned closer to the teenager. Hooked her arms beneath his armpits and hoisted him up to lean against her shoulder. Peter gasped when he was practically lifted over to where his aunt was sitting. It was a bit mortifying to Peter that he was still scrawny enough for her to carry.

“Aunt May!” He squawks, his whole face turning cherry red.

She ignored his complaint and began gently combing through his messy curls. He swore all the embarrassment he felt drained away once her hands began to scratch his head. Peter tilted his head towards the touch as he breathed a soft sigh.

“How was your trip?” May asked.

“Good,” Peter replied, leaning further into the touch.

If by good Peter meant arguing with the Avengers and Nick Fury, then it had been a marvelous trip! Full of things that every typical teenager would love! A totally lighthearted fight followed by being yelled at by a room full of adults. Not that he could tell that joke to May, she’d freak out. Peter wouldn’t blame her, either. Mr. Stark took him out of the country to fight a bunch of highly enhanced individuals... After technically blackmailing him. There’s no way that’s legal and May would 101% kill Tony for it or die trying. A small fit of giggles escaped his throat as he imagined his Aunt trying to fight Iron Man. He could almost picture exactly how she’d decide to fight him.

“What’s so funny?” May asked, turning his head up to look at her.

Pete shook his head with a grin, “Nothing, Aunt May.”

“If you say so,” May mused, turning Peter’s head again, this time to see the clock on the wall. “Back to more important matters, if your trip was so perfect, then why’d you decide to skip school today?”

The clock read 2:35 pm, which meant that Peter did, in fact, miss a day of—wait a damn minute. Peter’s hand shot up to rub his neck, and the color drained from his face as his shoulders tensed. The soft and gentle look in his eyes faded into stark, contrasting anger.

“What do you want?” He’d remembered asking.

Natasha gave him a questioning brow, “I’d like to administer pain medication to a very grumpy, itsy bitsy spider.”

He’d scoffed at the phrase “itsy bitsy spider”, but instead of getting defensive, he sagged his shoulders. He knew that he couldn’t fight a fully trained assassin turned spy right then. His head has been hurting, and he’d be sluggish enough to take hits. So, rather than getting defensive like usual he locked the apartment door back and dragged his feet to the couch. Slumping back onto the soft surface and crossing his arms with typical teenage grumpiness.

“Itsy bitsy spider is extremely unoriginal, pick a new spider-themed nickname.” He spat, and for some odd reason chose not to inform her that pain medication wouldn’t help him.

Instead, he remembered focusing on his senses spiking through the roof with subconscious shouts of: FRIEND! Whenever Natasha had laughed at his snarky reply. She was what triggered the abnormality. From what Peter knew about the tingling feelings, it had never before pointed out a “safe” individual. He wanted to run tests and investigate exactly what made his body perceive Natasha as a safe person. Despite the obvious fact that he was mildly intrigued, Peter’s face was still twisted up into a frown.

“Well, that’s too bad, Itsy,” Natasha replied, throwing a chicken sandwich at him from the bag in her hands.

Thanks to his heightened reflexes, Peter caught it. Sinking his sharp fangs into the juicy sandwich he’d been so graciously given. Something that he understood to be a potentially bad idea. Yet, he still practically scarfed down that sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His mind was so wrapped around the delicious flavor that he hardly had the chance to react when Natasha lunged at him. She grabbed hold of his wrist and jerked him towards her. A small hiss escaped Peter’s throat as his sandwich fell from his hands. He had little time to mourn the loss before he had to struggle against Natasha. Flailing his arms and legs in an attempt to hinder her efforts but it was nearly impossible to shake her grip. With each attempt at losing the grip, the more bruising her grip became. He struggled until it was useless. Natasha secured Peter in a headlock, and all he could think of was that he should’ve attacked earlier. Natasha stabbed the injection into his neck as he tried in vain to fight back. His hands clawed her arm and he flailed his legs helplessly. However, she was determined to ensure that the medication was properly administered. It took only a minute or two for Peter’s struggles to grow strained and ragged. Less than that, his eyes began to droop, and the medication began to drag him from consciousness. Panic spread through him as he attempted to stay conscious, but it was useless. Only once his arms slumped to his sides did Natasha let him go.

“Relax, Peter,” She said gently. “It’s only to help with the pain.”

FRIEND! That was the only thing that stupid Spider-Sense would scream, even though Natasha was a threat. What kind of friend stabs you in the neck with pain medicine?

Peter shot up from the couch narrowly avoiding knocking May off balance. Not that she acknowledged it, she just chuckled.

“You can stay home today Pete, there’s no use in you going today.”

She’d instead assumed he still wanted to go to school. Which had been the furthest thing from the truth. He hadn’t wanted to because he needed to see what Natasha stole from him.

Still, he forced a smile, “Thanks, Aunt May, sorry I slept in!”

Her smile softened even more as she waved off his apology and sent him to his room. Peter kept the fake smile until he reached his room, his blood boiling horribly. He shut his door and secured his desk chair beneath the handle before storming over to his desk. Several containers of blue fluid were missing from their spot in his drawer, but that wasn’t the only thing missing. Stacks of his notes on crime rings and other documents of similar nature were gone. Including his plans for The Friendly Neighborhood Watch (TFNW for short). This meant that Natasha and whoever else she decides to tell now knows about his plan to put Ned on his team. His planned patrol schedules, routes, and potential hideout spots, everything.

“I’m fucked.” He whispered to himself.

This was bad, very bad! He wasn’t even sure about inviting Ned, or even starting the neighborhood watch in the first place. His friend could be a bit…oblivious, and he’d probably freak out if he found out what that spider actually did. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t have a choice anymore. It’s now or never, as it seems.

Chapter Text

It’s been a week since his trip to Germany. Peter turned in the essay he'd been writing and hung out with Ned. Average teenage stuff, well mostly. Peter had gone back to patrolling and setting up for his new team. He decided not to scrap his plans just because S.H.I.E.L.D. has them. That’d be a little stupid because they already knew everything they’d wanted to know about him. The only thing left to do now was to invite Ned…something that he still hadn’t figured out how to do. So he momentarily put the idea on hold. There were more pressing matters that needed to be addressed asap!

Now, Spider-Man was currently on top of a subway car with a few criminals. His thin body pressed flat against the moving train as he considered his next moves. This was extremely out of his territory, Spider-Man patrolled Queens! Yet here he was, riding on top of a train headed for Brooklyn. As they neared their destination Peter leapt onto the ceiling and crawled across the walls of the subway station. Waiting within the shadows for the hooded figures to exit the train and make their way out of the station. He stayed as far enough out of sight as not to be spotted but close enough to attack once the time was right. He’d been following them for over an hour now which usually meant that he hadn’t figured out how to strike yet.

You see, Spider-Man had a habit of stalking the criminals his senses alerted him to. Creeping up on them before striking or trapping them in intricately made webs. Sometimes he’d bite to paralyze if the individual he was fighting was becoming too aggressive. He tries not to bite though, he doesn’t know what’s really in his venom because he can’t get a sample. He can only use venom whenever his senses are spiking and there’s no way out. It’s a part of his spidery instincts he supposes.

HIDE! HIDE! NOT SAFE— Spider-Man sank further into the shadows right in time as one of the hooded men looked right at him. The man made complete eye contact with Peter but thankfully luck had been on his side for once. The man turned away after a few long seconds and began catching up with his buddies. Apparently, he could feel Peter watching him, typical. Some people are just more aware than others, but without any real proof, there’s no way in hell they could spot him, which is what allowed Spider-Man to follow so closely behind. They couldn’t do what he could see all that he saw, or hear what he heard.

The trio of men he’s been following is part of a larger group that profits from robberies in Queens. Spider-Man had done a decent job of keeping them out, but as of recently, they’ve upped their game. Now, no matter how many times Spider-Man had taken them down they kept on coming back. It was starting to piss him off! So he did what any reasonable person would do. He began stalking them like a predator would in the wild. I mean technically Peter was a predator, he was a human spider. If it wasn’t for his strong sense of justice he could imagine a universe where he ate other humans. A full-grown person would sustain him far better than a chicken salad. Luckily, even the action of sinking his fangs into flesh in self-defense felt extremely wrong and uncomfortable. He shuddered at the mere idea of using another person as a means of food.

Anyway, back to business. Spider-Man had been planning to intercept the group at the rundown sandwich joint they’d frequented in Queens but decided it’d be too much of a risk. He didn’t get to complete his investigation and part of him is worried that they would have alien technology. Every time he finds someone who has that stupid tech it never ends well for him. If Natasha hadn’t stolen his notes on the group, he probably would’ve already apprehended them by now. Unfortunately, she had, and because of that, he’d taken to avoiding his usual routes to prevent a potential encounter. He didn’t want to see another Avenger for as long as humanly possible. Spider-Man ran solo missions out on the field and the Avengers would only slow him down. Not to mention that Peter hadn’t known why she’d taken his notes in the first place. He could understand why she’d taken the webbing but his notes and plans? Now that hardly made sense to him.

Peter shook his racing thoughts away and instead focused on following his targets from rooftops now that they’d left the subway. He’d never really been one to frequent Brooklyn and yet here he was. Leaping across rooftops and stalking criminals like prey. ATTACK! ATTACK!— Spider-Man shot a web at a lamppost and swung down to land before his prey. He ignored their shocked expressions and listened to his senses. Launching himself at the tallest one while the others drew their weapons. Not that they had a chance to attack Peter. —MOVE! PAIN! MOVE! Spider-Man ducked out of the way of a swinging pipe and rolled off the man he’d webbed up. A low hiss escaped his throat as he snatched a crowbar from the smaller man’s grasp.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” He mused with a grin.

The man howled in pain as Spider-Man swung the crowbar at his knees. Peter had little time to celebrate his victory before he had to jump out of the way of a bullet. He turned towards the man who attempted to shoot him and began moving closer. His movements were slow and calculated as he waited for an opening.

“Get away you freak!” The last remaining man shouted, waving his gun at Peter.

Spider-Man let out a low laugh, “Come on buddy, you don’t want to try that again do you?”

He did decide to shoot at Peter again. —JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! Fortunately, Spider-Man leaped into the air. Flicking a web shooter-covered wrist at the man who’d attempted to knock him out with that crowbar, successfully rendering him useless.

Peter chuckled, “Remember, you asked for this!”

He spun through the air with such precision that someone would’ve thought he’d trained his whole life for the opportunity. Unfortunately for the man who shot at him, Peter wasn’t holding back. He didn’t even have a chance to shoot again before Peter’s feet landed on his chest. The heel dug deep as he used the man’s body to leap. Instantly knocking the wind out of the man, and sending him flying against the pavement. Spider-Man himself landed gracefully on the ground next to the man. BITE!— He pulled his mask up to his lips, crouched, leaned his head down, and sank his fangs into the man’s arm. Peter gagged and pulled away from the man, spitting the blood from his mouth. FRIEND! FRIEND! HI FRIEND!— Peter looked away from the poor (now paralyzed) criminal to see the silhouette of Natasha in the distance. Oh for fucks sake. Spider-Man pulled his mask back down and shot a web at a passing truck. Allowing the vehicle to pull him along as he created a distance between Natasha and him.

His eyes narrowed as he swore he saw Natasha step right over the criminals he’d just taken down and begin following him. She’s following my patrol…she’s following me! Peter hissed at the thought of someone daring to follow him and turned to swing toward a nearby building. His feet landed softly on a rooftop as he began making his way back to Queens.

Only once he was back on his familiar streets did he quit the low hissing sound he was making…maybe he was territorial.

HUNT! HUNT! HUNT!

Shaking away his agitated feelings Peter swung through Queens. He felt lighter being in his territory and took to doing what he usually did.

BITE! CHOMP! HUNT!

Things like helping people get home safe! There are plenty of folks who wait for Spider-Man to lead them to the bus stop.

HUNT! STRIKE! HUNT!

Like a friendly neighborhood— okay what the fuck.

BITE! BITE! CHOMP!

He would not be doing that! Fuck that, he already bit a guy tonight. Honestly with how his senses were acting that cannibalism theory did not seem so far-fetched.

FRIEND! LOOK! SPIDER!

“Itsy.”

The teenager hesitated in shooting a web toward another building and almost fell into oncoming traffic. Thankfully someone grabbed him and by grabbed he means that they’d scruffed him like a newborn kitten. Lifting his body back onto the building with scarily practiced ease. Only once he was a few feet away from the ledge was he lowered to the ground. FRIEND! He knows exactly who helped him.

“What the hell…?” Peter muttered, immediately stumbling to his feet once he’d realized he hadn’t fallen to his doom.

Then he looked up and saw her. Natasha was staring down at him with those calculating eyes. His shoulders tensed and his eyes averted away from the spy. She was reading him and it made his stomach churn with anxiety.

“Why are you following me?” Peter asked, crouching on all fours.

The spy only seemed to stare more, “I’m not following you.”

Peter frowned, “But you’ve been everywhere I’ve been, my senses keep alerting me to your presence.”

“Maybe your little senses are aware of what I’m looking for,” Natasha replied.

He rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Sure, I believe you.”

Natasha’s eyes bore into his for a little too long for comfort. So Peter wordlessly leaped from the building and followed his senses once again. The subconscious itch that he’d felt earlier grew louder as he spotted some strange-looking people.. He slunk into the shadows and scaled the walls of the alley they were in. Spider-Man shut his eyes and cleared his mind of all other sounds until he was able to pinpoint their exact conversation.

“We could make some serious money with this.” Said Nasty Guy one.

Nasty Guy two grumbles, “If that rich billionaire doesn’t take everything.”

Upon further examination of the items the men were holding, he recognized them to be alien tech. Oh shit, that’s bad. Every single time he fights somebody with alien tech he always comes home with more than just bruises and cuts. Pete needed to act fast if he wanted to get a fair fight. The teenager crept closer until his prey was close enough to bite— bite? Wait a damn minute. He’s not going to bite another person! Once a night only, he didn’t have time for a web article theorizing that he’s Dracula to start circulating.

Unfortunately, he has Peter Parker luck even as Spider-Man. His body moved without his conscious effort, and his hands forced his mask above his lips. A low hiss escaped from his throat as he sprang off the brick wall and knocked Nasty Guy one away from the piece of tech he’d been picking up. Spider-Man’s fangs sank into the back of his neck before the man even had the opportunity to fight back. MOVE! MOVE!— FRIEND? MOVE! Peter left the now paralyzed man to launch himself at the other only for that man to land a sound kick to his stomach. The sheer force caught him by surprise and he hardly had a chance to catch himself before his head smashed against the pavement.

A loud ringing reverberated through his ears as the man walked over to him. It was clear that he was attempting to finish the job. So Peter stumbled back to his feet. How hard had he hit his head? A sharp pain shot through his body that made him shiver.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Spider-Man quips.

Yet he frowned once he realized how slurred his speech sounded. That wasn’t normal, and he’d need to let somebody take a look at him. The only thing that was keeping him punching was his spider-sense because he couldn’t see anything anymore. It’s like someone fogged up his glasses or something. Still, he ignored the pain and head butted his attacker, digging his suit’s fangs into their eyes. Contrary to the public’s belief, those fangs were sharp. The man let out a strangled cry before stumbling back. Spider-Man grabbed onto the guy’s shoulders and webbed him to the wall despite his rising exhaustion. He then swerved around to the other guy and repeated the action.

“Oh fuck.” Peter mumbles.

Black dots began to cloud his vision as his legs crumpled beneath him. Quick panicked breaths escaped his throat while he lay mostly motionless on the ground. Now he was having a hard time staying conscious. Why wasn’t his healing kicking in yet? How hard had he hit his head? Did he have a concussion? You’re not supposed to fall asleep when you’ve got one of those— FRIEND! Spider-Man forced his eyes to open and god he could’ve cried when Natasha entered the alley. He didn’t complain nor did he hiss like he’d done before.

“…I think I hit my head too hard.” He slurs.

Pete could faintly hear Natasha sighing as she got close enough to get a good look at him. After a few agonizing seconds of checking she picked him up by the scruff of his suit before grabbing what she’d come for. SAFE! SAFE!— He couldn’t see exactly what she took but it was probably alien tech. His spidey senses probably led him to what the spy was looking for. Natasha was right or at least he thinks. Either way, he was kinda glad that she’d found him because he had a concussion…Peter Parker luck strikes again.

Chapter Text

Peter first clawed his way back to consciousness while Natasha was still carrying him. His head was killing him in ways that no words could ever describe. It was worse than all of his headaches combined, which was a very high level of achievement. He most certainly had a concussion to some degree. That’s why he wasn’t struggling in Natasha’s grip even when she decided to carry him like a firefighter would. His entire upper body was slumped over one of her shoulders, with one hand holding his wrist. It was mildly humiliating how easily she’d been able to get him into the position. He was as weightless to her as he was to his auntie, and that annoyed him. Fortunately for Natasha, he couldn’t complain about how annoyed he was because he was too out of it to form a coherent argument. The best he could do was lightly kick his legs in protest, an action that hadn’t done him any favors. So instead, he tried to figure out where exactly she was taking him. Peter didn’t exactly trust Natasha in any way, for obvious reasons. She broke into his apartment, coaxed him with food, drugged him, and then stole web fluid from him. His lack of trust was extremely warranted because who does that? Anyway, Peter refocuses his attention on the world around him.

After a few moments of nothing, he opened his mouth enough to taste the night air and caught a whiff of expensive cologne. Tony’s cologne was a rather distinct scent that was practically suffocating. Upon further consideration, he deduced that the scent was a faint one, but that gave him a hint of where they could be going. With a bit of effort, he snapped his eyes open. His vision was blurry and cloudy. It took a minute or two for it to clear up, but once it did, his stomach flipped. The Avengers Tower, he was at Avengers Tower, what the fuck, Natasha!?—LOOK! LEFT! LEFT! FORWARD! Peter weakly tilts his head up to get a good look at his surroundings. It hurts like hell to move his head. His heart races when he recognizes nurses, a whole bunch of them, surrounding Natasha. He wanted to struggle, he’d wanted to scream, but he had no fight left in his weakened state. He’d used the last of his strength to beat that guy with alien tech. Quick breaths followed that realization as he was turned over to literal strangers. It didn’t matter to Peter that they were only trying to help him; he was scared.

He did everything in his weakened power not to get placed on that stretcher, but it was useless. The medical staff (with the help of Natasha) restrained him even as he bared his fangs at them. He hated these people, he hated this dumb stretcher, and he hated— CALM! CALM! Calm? Since when was his Spidey-Sense customizable? Natasha looked calm, her posture was relaxed, and her breathing was slow. Seeing her so calm made him want to be calm too. Wait, no, he doesn’t want to relax! Yet, everything in his body was telling him to. To mirror exactly what she was doing, copy her posture and relaxed breathing, but Peter couldn’t. He can’t risk going to another hospital; it wasn’t safe for him. Avengers controlled assistance or not, he’d almost gotten taken away last time he’d been. They thought that he was a mutant, and that in itself was enough to put him on a lot of bad people’s radar. Peter can’t go to the hospital for injuries or illnesses because that’d risk his well-being more than the injury itself. His body was tingling from his head to his toes, and his throat started to tighten. The fear alone was enough of a reason to despise Natasha. He glared up at her with tear-filled eyes (not that she could see them because of his mask) while the head nurse barked orders at the others. It took a lot of effort, but the medical staff managed to get him strapped to the stretcher, and then he was rushed inside.

Peter slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to lessen the anxiety. Breathing in deeply before releasing long breaths. It forces him to relax enough for the nurses to care for him. He’d even allowed them to get a better look at his head. To run their tests, to flash lights in his eyes, and to tend to other wounds that hadn’t healed properly. Resisted the temptation to bite the doctor when he was asked to remove the mask. Which wasn’t happening, he’d rather not have his identity be revealed to a bunch of random people in a Stark Industries Clinic. Not to mention, they’d treated him before after he was bitten by that spider…Now that he thought about it, why hadn’t any of them made that connection? Maybe they aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed—

“Spider-Man, could you lift your arm for me?” A nurse asked.

Peter internally groaned the second he saw a needle. Yet, he lifted his arm to the nurse and allowed her to cut the piece of the suit that she’d needed to get him hooked to an IV. He swallowed hard when she swabbed his skin. Is now a bad time to mention that he hated needles? Oh, yeah, it is, and he was screwed. The second the needle neared the skin, he jolted backwards. Unfortunately, that only delayed the inevitable, and the nurse simply pulled him back without a word. The fear mixed exhaustion seemingly caught up with him because the moment that needle touched skin, he was out like a light.

Hours later, Peter woke with a jolt to find himself in a humiliating position. He was no longer being tortured by one singular needle but instead was wrapped up in a blanket burrito on the hospital bed. The brown haired teen struggled with the blankets, but it was useless somehow. Super strength vs. blanket burrito, and somehow the blanket burrito wins? He had a lot to say about his current predicament, which includes his lack of a mask.

“Seriously, I heal fast, you didn’t need to restrain me to a hospital bed!” He shouts to nobody in particular.

Peter wiggled even further as the door to his hospital room swung open. At this rate, he was trying to avoid the humiliation he’d get from being seen like this. Spider-Man and Peter R. Parker don't deserve this kind of treatment. The young teen shifted his head up to glare at the person who entered the room. It was Mr. Stark in all of his annoying billionaire glory.

“I hate you,” Peter grumbled.

“You’d think you would be a little more appreciative.” Tony said, pointing a finger at the grouchy spider, “Seeing as you were hours away from permanent brain damage.”

Peter scoffed, “How could I be appreciative while I’m a burrito?”

The young teenager wormed around on the bed, which earned him a small smile from Tony. It was useless, everyone knows that blanket beats teenage vigilante. Without the mask, Peter wasn’t swinging around in pajamas, and despite how he was acting, he wasn’t looking as creepy as his alter ego was described. Though it’s impossible not to notice the little difference from his typical self. Those deadly fangs that were peaking out from his lips.

“You wouldn’t be one if you hadn’t bitten a nurse,” Tony replied.

Peter scowled, “When did I do that?”

“After you passed out.”

A shiver ran down his spine at the mere idea of flesh beneath his fangs again. Peter gagged, and his entire body shuddered. The fangs retreated into his mouth once he did.

“Ew, yuck, I already bit somebody else tonight.” He exclaimed.

Tony blinked, “You bit somebody else?”

“…Yeah, uh, I just, um, the Spidey sense told me to.” Peter reluctantly answered.

Tony frowned and opened his mouth to comment on that, but he was interrupted by Peter. Who abruptly rolls himself off the bed in a way that reminds Tony of a spider trying to escape from being squished. His head tucked away into the blanket as he lands on the ground with a loud THUMP! The older man stands shocked until he isn’t and rushes over to the teenager. Who has completely unraveled himself from the blanket burrito by rolling?

“What the hell, kid!?” Tony shouts.

Peter shakes off the blanket with seemingly practiced ease right as the door opens yet again. Tony is too busy trying to comprehend what just happened to acknowledge the new person for a couple of seconds. To be entirely fair, it’s not like this is something you see every day. There’s a kid who accidentally got bitten by one of your radioactive spiders that’s supposed to be in a hospital bed with IVs attached, but instead is on your floor.
Bruce hesitantly asks, “…Tony, what’s going on?”

The billionaire takes a breath before turning to face Bruce.

“The spiderling apparently wants to give brain damage another try,” Tony replied sarcastically.

Peter rolled his eyes before yanking the broken needle from his arm. Peter watched the wound close itself and then dropped his arm to his side. Wiping the remaining blood on his pants, he looked back up at the two men. They wore mildly uncomfortable expressions that made him smile. Yet another point for Team Parker!

Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Peter, could you please get back in your bed?”

After a few seconds, Peter reluctantly climbed back into his hospital bed. Stretching his aching bones while the two heroes exchanged looks. Bruce clears his throat and approaches Peter, albeit a little cautiously.

“I can see that you’re doing better than before you got here.” Bruce starts.

Peter tilts his head with a blank expression, “I would’ve been fine either way, I heal fast.”

A bit of a lie, he’d never hit his head like that before. Had Natasha left him there, he’s not sure he would’ve been able to make the trip back to the apartment. He can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he’d hit his head that badly, Pre-Radioactive. If he needed medical attention to handle the damage Post-Radioactive spider, then that head injury was definitely deadly. He would’ve eaten that concrete and stayed there. Thankfully, he’d been bitten by your local, unfriendly, Stark Industries Spider.

Bruce chooses his next words carefully: “Do you have a history of injuries like this?”

Peter shrugged. “Head injuries, never—” He had to stifle a laugh. “—but if we’re talking about other things…Yes, I do have a bit of a history.”

Both Tony and Bruce gave Peter a look that honestly made him feel mildly guilty. It was right up there with May’s “I’m concerned now, you’re seeing your psychiatrist” look. The teen coughed nervously and changed the subject.

“Anyway, what time is it?” He paused, checking the clock on the wall, and realized the time. “I really need to get back to the apartment before Aunt May gets home.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter, “Bruce has tests to run.”

“Yeah, no, I already let your doctors do that, I’m good,” Peter replies firmly.

“Peter,” Tony says sharply.

The teenager shook his head and began to get up, but Tony blocked his path. He glares at Tony, and Tony glares right back.

“I’m fine, you’re just being pushy.” Peter protests, crossing his arms.

Tony scoffed, “Says the kid who was unconscious for three hours.”

Peter clenched his fists, but instead of arguing further, he flopped back onto the hospital bed. He didn’t know why he’d decided not to fight any further, but he did. Tony wasn’t phased by his glare and arguably gave him a look that was far worse than his own. So he gave in, or at least that’s what he was telling himself. It was easier to lie to himself than to uncover the truth. Bruce began asking him questions about his medical history and other undocumented injuries. Peter begrudgingly answered all of his questions until his last one. This one made him curious.

“Are you aware that your body is storing its own venom?” Bruce asked, jotting down Peter’s answers to other questions on a notepad he’d just noticed that man had.

He glided his tongue across the top two fangs with interest. Well, at least he knew he was right about his body storing the venom elsewhere. The real question was, where? He’s not an actual spider; he’s a human one. Human bodies don’t store venom, and while that spider definitely fucked him up, he doesn’t think it's possible that it rewired him enough to have venom glands. The mere idea sounds absurd, but so does a radioactive spider. What was Tony feeding that thing anyway? Peter was bed-bound for weeks, and the moment he wasn’t, he was crawling across walls. Genuinely, what was he feeding that thing?

“Peter?” Bruce asked, snapping the teenager back to reality.

Peter sputtered. “Sorry, yes, Mr. Banner, sir, I’m aware that I produce venom.”

Bruce continues, “Would you mind if I sampled some of your venom?”

He eyes the two men suspiciously at the proposition. Screwing his mouth shut and shaking his head slowly. There was no way in two hells that he’d allow them to do that. What if they used that as an excuse to run other tests? Yeah, no, Peter doesn’t like doctors. He knows that they’re all secretly vampires, except May; she’s the only exception.

“I would mind, I don’t like the idea of being analyzed.” He grumbled.

Tony opens his mouth to comment, but Bruce stops him and clears Peter to leave.

“Alright then, you’re good to go.”

Peter sighs in relief. “Good, I hate hospitals.”

“You’re not going anywhere yet, you need your suit,” Tony replied smugly.

The teenager cursed himself for not fighting harder to keep the stupid thing. Now he had to play nice with the same guy who blackmailed him into fighting the other Avenger. If they’d met under different circumstances or maybe if he’d been given another suit, he would’ve been chill. Yet here he was, dealing with Mr. Stark yet again. With a groan, he began to follow Tony out of his hospital room.

Chapter Text

Peter pulled his new mask over his face as he steadied his feet on the roof of the Avengers tower. He had around an hour to get back to the apartment in time for at least two hours of sleep. Which was kind of worth it because Tony had been generous enough to give his suit a few…upgrades. Upgrades and well-needed medical attention despite the whole biting thing. Part of him felt bad for whatever nurse was handling him beforehand because that had to have been a nasty bite. Tony’s generosity struck him, though, he’ll admit. No one outside of May and Ned had ever done something this nice to him. He’d have to dial back on the hostility the next time he sees him. Now that there was more foundation to their dynamic than blackmail.

Words couldn’t express just how happy Peter was seeing the suit, much less wearing it. The tight stitches that held the makeshift suit together were now replaced with firmer material. Spandex, in all of its comfortable yet flexible glory. The type of plastic he’d been using for the eyes had been replaced with one that didn’t smudge as easily. In fact, the eyes now had a rim of dark blue around their base. The fangs that were a staple of his old suit were repositioned to where dimples would be on a normal face. They themselves were sharper and firmer than before. There was deliberately stitched blue fabric in seemingly random places. Though upon closer inspection, you could tell that it was a brindle pattern. The same color as the stripes on his mask. Tony brought to life the original Spider-Man suit. Based on Lycosa spiders, because of the physical manifestation of his mutation. Contrary to the public’s belief, he doesn’t naturally produce his webs. It’s physically impossible for him to do so. Which is why, before he even decided to make his webs, he was first spotted using speed to combat criminals when he first started his crime-fighting. Speed and stealth became second nature to him after just two weeks of training. Which is why he learned to be so good at not being seen when he doesn’t want to be. A fact that the YouTube theorists still haven’t caught onto yet. You'd think they’d notice by now, but apparently not.

With a flick of a wrist, Peter was swinging his way back home. Sucking in a belly full of the cool, fresh air as he glided through it. The sounds of honking cars and quiet conversations acted as an ambiance as he grew closer to home. Eventually, his feet landed on the chilly windowsill of his aunt’s apartment. Which he immediately opened, quickly sliding it shut once he was inside. Whipping around like lightning to make sure his door wasn’t left ajar. It wasn’t, May wasn’t home yet, which meant that he could still get some rest. With a long sigh, Peter moves out of sight of the window. He quietly yet quickly changed out of his suit and hid it away. Throwing on his Avengers-themed pajamas with a kind of exhaustion you could only achieve by doing his kind of work. His body is as heavy as stones as he flops onto the well-made bed. Not bothering to get beneath the covers as his eyes drooped. Restful is what he needed, but seeing as he only has an hour to sleep, there’s not much to gain.

The following morning was rough; he woke up to his alarm blaring into his sensitive ears. A small groan escaped his throat as he turned the alarm off, rolling out of bed sluggishly. Getting himself ready for another bothersome day, Peter threw on a baggy shirt with some comfy pants. He fixed the pants around his waist with a belt that was hidden by his shirt. A small yawn escaped his throat as he slapped a brown watch onto his right wrist. It took a moment, but he dragged his feet to the closet and grabbed his shoes from their stand. Slipping into them and lacing them up before stepping out of his room.

“Aunt May?” Peter called.

He received no response for a few moments before a sleepy voice reached his ears.

“Yes, Petey?”

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he sauntered to the bathroom. He grabbed his toothbrush from its spot, sloppily putting toothpaste on it, and brushing his teeth. Afterwards, he found himself gazing into the mirror, seeing just how exhausted he looked. Thankfully, there were no signs that he’d hit his head at all, besides the hair being a little shorter in the spot where he’d hit it. With a little tender love and care, it’d be back to normal in no time. With a heavy sigh, he walks to the kitchen, only to find May sleepily reading the morning mail. Her hands clench a paper so tightly that it is slightly crumpled. Her eyebrows are narrowed into a dissatisfied frown. Yet, once she sees Peter, a relaxed smile stretches across her lips. There’s clear evidence of worry beneath the smile once she sees the exhaustion clear in his body language. She places the paper on the counter and pulls him closer, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Good morning, Petey.” She greeted, fixing his hair with her left hand.

He yawned, “Morning, May.”

“I thought I told you to stop staying up so late.” She said distastefully.

Peter laughed, “You, uh, know me, I couldn’t help myself!”

May gave him a stern look but let his comment slide. Instead, she let him go, returning her attention to the paper. Clenching it even tighter than before. Peter watched her for long enough to recognize that what she was reading was medical test results. Her name was printed delicately across the top of the document in big bold letters. Instead of prying for answers to questions he undoubtedly had, Peter walked over to the fridge. Opening it and grabbing a couple of apples from the door. Slicing them into tiny apple slices and scarfing all of them down in one bite. Now he could tackle the day without passing out from exhaustion. Peter grabbed his bag from its spot by the door and left with a quick goodbye to May.

He caught the subway to school rather than walking because he actually had money for a ticket. Thanks to that, he arrived right on time to meet Ned before the doors opened. Thankfully, Ned was waiting for Peter outside, a LEGO figurine in one hand and a half-eaten bagel in the other. Once Peter stepped into view of his friend, his smile widened. Ned waved him over, and Peter obeyed, weaving through the small cliques that came early every day. Before stopping right where Ned was; a small smile on his lips.

Ned holds the Lego figure up to him, “Join me, and together we’ll build my new Lego Death Star!”

“Good morning, Ned,” Peter replies.

Ned and Peter ramble on about Star Wars until the doors open. Though the author has never seen Star Wars a day in their life and thus cannot explain what they’re talking about without angering actual Star Wars fans. Still, both boys continue their conversation well into their first-period class. With Peter scribbling down math notes with practiced ease. Far into their second period, and a giant chunk of their lunch was spent talking about Star Wars. Despite his exhaustion, his day was going amazingly. As the school day grew close, Peter promised Ned to meet up with Ned later that night.

“Just knock on the door, May should let you in.” He promised.

Ned smiled, “Okay, see you later.”

The young teen took the subway back home to his apartment. Sticking to his usual routine, he greeted the dog walkers who were always out by this time. Visiting the Subway joint and paying for a sandwich that he’d undoubtedly finish by the time he gets home. Just normal Peter R. Parker stuff, relaxing, simple. All that was missing was his digital camera and pictures of himself as Spider-Man to post. After a long walk, he reached the apartment, turning his key in the lock and entering. He dropped his bag next to the door, kicked off his shoes, and walked to his room to suit up. A calm yet excited expression on his face as he pulled on the suit. As he pulled the mask over his face and crawled out of the window, an intense feeling of pride filled him. He shot a web at a nearby building, swinging through the air with precision. Using his senses to patrol the streets, which currently appeared to be crime-free. Good to see that he’s doing his job right. Well, mostly, while swinging by some older buildings, he spotted a man attempting to break into a car. He was just about to stop him, but a voice came through his suit.

“Hello, Peter.” A voice said to him.

A gasp escaped his throat as he caught himself. Flicking his wrist at another building before he could fall into the busy street below. The criminal he spotted fled without stealing anything upon seeing him. Still, his heart pounded as he tried to figure out where that voice had come from.

“Who’s that?” Peter sputtered.

The voice spoke again, “I am your suit’s AI system, created by Tony Stark.”

Peter paused in thought as he glided through the air, catching himself at the last moment before launching himself back into the air. The bustling of the city warmed his heart as he considered what had just been explained to him. Today was definitely going to be a day.

“Why did Mr. Stark add you to my suit?” He asked.

His eyes focused on a man trying to steal a woman’s purse. He swung over to the two and, in one swoop, webbed up the criminal. Spider-Man handed the woman back her purse. She thanked him, and he swung away.

“I am here to provide you with assistance.” The voice replied.

Peter laughed, “So, Mr. Stark’s keeping tabs on me?”

The voice didn’t reply to his comment and instead allowed him to continue his patrol. He appreciated the quiet, aside from his petty comments here and there. After a few hours of patrol, he settled down on a roof with a juicy burger. An old lady bought it for him earlier after he helped her cross the street. God, was it delicious.

“Incoming call…from Aunt May.”

Peter’s eyes widened in confusion as a screen appeared in the suit’s vision. A call screen with May’s face on it, without thinking, he answers. Dragging his finger across to accept the call.

“Um, yes, Aunt May?” He said.

“Hey Pete, I just wanted to let you know that I have an appointment today, so I’ll be home late,” May explained.

Peter sighed, “That’s fine, I was going to invite Ned over tonight anyway.”

“You’ll be alright then?” She asked.

“I’ll be okay,” Peter replied.

Then the call ended, Peter finished his sandwich, and headed back home. Swinging through the streets like he was weightless. Something’s off once he nears his apartment. His senses are screaming at him to search, and so he does. Searching for the apparent danger until he found it. The danger was irrelevant, small, and an easy target to beat. A trio of criminals huddled in an alleyway. Taking a breath, his instinct urged his body into hunting mode. His body remained glued low to the surface beneath him. He crawled closer and closer until he could see their faces. He remained out of sight as he focused on what they were saying.

“We could make some serious money with this.” Said Bad Guy One.

Bad guy two scoffs, “If that spider thing doesn’t find out.”

“Right, he already gave some of it to the Avengers.” Bad guy three grumbles.

He almost felt bad for them; he was watching them, and they had no clue. So he could hear their entire plan and conversation all at once. With a flick of a wrist, he webbed up the group, wasting no time in disarming them. They surprisingly hadn’t put up much of a fight, which worked out well for him. Peter landed in front of them in a handstand, grabbing one of the Bad guys’ phones. Dialing emergency services and waiting for the person on the other end to reply.

“It’s Spider-Man by the way, not Spider-Thing.” He quipped.

The men only swore at him in response, which only made him laugh. Then a voice came over the phone, and Peter replied to the questions. Telling the cops where they could find the guys before leaving the scene. Returning to the apartment at long last. His feet landed on the windowsill of his apartment. He immediately opens, quickly crawling in on the ceiling. Sliding the window shut with his foot once he was safely inside. Shooting a web at the door and pushing it shut with practiced ease. Dropping down from the roof after he was sure that his aunt wouldn’t see him. Sucking in a deep breath before turning around to see his friend. OH FUCK. Ned stood and dropped the Lego set he’d been working on. Peter winced. They were going to spend all night rebuilding that.

“What was that?” May called from another room.

“Uh, nothing? Nothing, it was nothing!” Peter sputtered.

“You're Spider-Man, from YouTube.” He whispered.

Peter pressed a button on his suit to take it off, “I’m not, I am definitely not!”

“You were on the ceiling,” Ned replied.

“No, I wasn’t. Why are you in my room?” Peter squeaked.

Ned looked bewildered, “May let me in, you said we were going to finish the Death Star!”

“You can’t just bust into my room—!” Peter began, but was cut off by May, busting into his room.

May chuckled, “That turkey meatloaf recipe went awful!”

Peter stood in shock next to Ned, who was way too happy for the current situation. May pulled the hair tie out of her hair with a smile.

“Do you want Pizza? I’ll leave you two dollars for Pizza.” She offered.

“Of course,” Peter replied nervously.

“And Pete, maybe put on some clothes?” She said before shutting the door back.

“She doesn’t know!?” Ned whispered.

Peter pulls on a sweater from its spot on his desk chair and shakes his head. Pulling the outfit over his head and on.

“Nobody knows, except for Mr. Stark and the other Avengers.” He admits.

Ned exclaimed, “The Avengers know!?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark upgraded my suit,” Peter replied.

“Tony Stark made you a suit!?” Ned continued.“Are you an Avenger?”

Peter grabbed the suit and tucked it back into its hiding spot. This was going to be a long night.

Peter sighed, “Basically, yeah?”

“This is so cool, I can’t wait to tell everyone my best friend is Spider-Man!” Ned replied.

“You can’t tell anyone about this; you have to keep it a secret.” Peter pleaded.

“Secret, why?” Ned asked.

Peter gave him a nervous answer, “Have you met May? If she finds out people are trying to kill me every night, she’ll freak out.”

“There’s no way I can keep this a secret, Peter!”

Peter gave Ned a look of desperation, “May’s already dealing with so much, she doesn’t need anything else on her plate.”

Ned paused, “Okay.”

Peter met his eye, “Swear to it.”

Ned nodded, “I swear.”

“Good, now let’s rebuild this Death Star.”